The Demon's Blade

by Steven Drake

  “I don’t know. I think some part of her already has,” Jerris said confidently. “I suppose it will take time, but at least she’s not trying to kill you anymore.”

  “Yes, at least there’s that,” Darien said, and both shared a laugh for a few moments. Then they simply sat quietly for a while, munching on the bread and drinking the cool water.

  “Why don’t you like the faeries?” Jerris unexpectedly asked a while later. “I really thought you were going to use the Demon Sword when she looked at you. She was using a spell, like you used the shadow sight on me, wasn’t she?”

  “She was. I wouldn’t have really used the sword. It was a bluff, I wanted to see how she would react. If she had continued even under the threat of the sword, I would not have listened to anything else she said. She probably knew that. We were both testing each other’s resolve and limits. She’s incredibly powerful Jerris. When you learn more magic, you’ll understand. I don’t trust anyone with that much power. In truth, I don’t really trust anyone at all, not completely.”

  “Do you trust me?” Jerris asked pointedly.

  “Actually, yes, I believe I do,” Darien answered, surprising even himself. “You have intelligence, courage, and the will to use them. All you lack is experience. You will be a fine King, or whatever else it is you mean to be. You’re the only person I’ve actually trusted in a very long time, and I thank you for all you’ve done to earn that trust.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I trust your judgment more than my own, and whether you choose to follow the prophecy or not, I will honor your choice, and I will do whatever I can to help.”

  “Thank you, Jerris. You are a better friend than I deserve to have.”

  “You’re welcome,” Jerris smiled jovially and took another bite of the bread. A few more minutes passed before he spoke again. “Well, I’m going to go back to my room. I’m going to get some sleep. Good night.”

  “Good night,” Darien said. Jerris then walked out the door, and left Darien alone with his thoughts again. The exhausted shade took the glass light from its stand and laid down to sleep, but the bed was far too soft, and he could not still his thoughts. An hour passed, then two, and finally he gave up. He walked out into the hall. The lights of the hall glowed much more dimly now. A single guard, a young-looking, fair-haired elf, stood by the door at the end of the stairwell where Darien had entered. He headed toward the door where the guard greeted him.

  “Um… Is there anything you require… sir?” the guard asked with a tremulous voice.

  “I require some fresh air. I mean to take a walk.”

  The guard squirmed nervously, struggling to come up with some reply, but Darien interrupted him. “I don’t know what your orders are, but if they really meant to keep me in that room, they would have stationed more than one guard at the end of this hallway. If there is someone to whom you are reporting, you may inform them that I enjoy the darkness and the night and I am taking a walk, and that I will return when I decide to return. You may also inform them that it would be very unwise to send anyone after me.” The Executioner then flashed the guard a cold, devious smile, and the trembling guard immediately stepped aside.

  Soon the shade had found his way outside again, and was walking in the cool night air. The giant trees rose up like the legs of giants whose heads were lost somewhere in the clouds. Scant moonlight filtered down in tattered threads from the thick canopy, though the light was more than enough for the eyes of a shade. He walked rather aimlessly around the valley, through groves of fruit trees, and alongside the stream that fed the lake. After about an hour, he was greeted by a familiar voice.

  “A strange place, isn’t it?”

  Darien recognized the voice of Ezra immediately, and turned casually to see him standing just a few feet to his right. This time, however, Ezra’s appearance came as no surprise.

  “So, there you are. I thought I might find you out here.”

  “Did you now? I thought my appearance here might come as a great surprise.”

  “Not this time, old man,” the shade said. “Though we’ve now spoken on four occasions, we’ve actually met only once. I found it interesting that you would suddenly appear five years after that first encounter, but I accepted that you might have found me in Kantu. After all, others had also found me.” He raised an eyebrow to Ezra and smiled knowingly. “But, when you appeared in the Craglands, without a horse, in the middle of nowhere, speaking as if you’d witnessed everything I had done since then, I knew you had to be observing me through some magic. I knew you hadn’t given me anything magical, as I would have sensed that. I was at a loss until I fought Avirosa, and I remembered how he controls the beasts he uses as his eyes and ears. I also remembered how you placed your hand on my head that first time we met.”

  “I did what was necessary. That is all.” Ezra spoke grimly, placing both his skeletal hands upon his staff and raising himself up as tall as his bent frame would allow. “I recall a frightened young man begging for death, something I could not give. Under the circumstances, I did the only thing I could.”

  Darien shook his head. “No, I understand why you did what you did, and I remain in your debt, but you might have told me. It would have explained a great many things that have troubled me these last five years. You didn’t just cast a spell on me, you wove an enchantment, directly into my own mind, just as Avirosa does to control his beasts, just as the Master does when he creates his monstrous chimeras. Those enchantments are complicated, and very risky, especially upon intelligent creatures. That explains the gaps in my memory, the feeling of disconnection with my former life. They’re all normal side effects of a mind enchantment. You’re not even really here, in Kadanar. You couldn’t be, not without the faeries and the lorekeeper at least knowing. I felt her power, and there’s simply no way she would miss anyone skilled enough to cast mind enchantments. What I’m seeing is only a vision of you, a magical apparition that you’re projecting from wherever it is you actually are.”

  “You are perhaps too clever for your own good. You waste time seeking to understand all that is hidden from you, whether it is important or not. Some things should be taken on faith, accepted and left alone, but of course I realized you would come to that conclusion eventually.”

  “Why not tell me? Did you not trust me, or did you fear retaliation?”

  “Perhaps both; I did not know you as I do now,” Ezra grimly replied. “You can hardly begrudge me some mistrust, given your history.”

  “True enough, I suppose. Well, what’s done is done, and there’s no point in arguing about it with a ghost.”

  “The question is, just as it always has been, what will you do now?”

  “There are many things I want to learn here, and I intend to practice my magic again. I was too unprepared for Avirosa, I was lucky. I have to be ready for the next time.”

  “So, then you will stay here?”

  “For a time, yes, but sooner or later, I will have to leave. The Master will continue to hunt me until he finds me even here. I place Jerris, Rana, and everyone else here in danger as long as I remain.”

  “What of the prophecy, then?”

  “What of it? It’s a prophecy, it could mean anything, or nothing. Why should I trouble myself about it? Whatever they think I’m supposed to be, I’m not who they need. I can’t use the sword. You told me so. It has to be someone else. Maybe I’ll find that person out there somewhere.”

  “Hmm, yes, the prophecy does seem to assume that you can use the sword.” Ezra reached up and twirled his messy hair in his long finger. “Perhaps I was wrong about him, after all,” the old man whispered to himself, too quiet for the other to hear.

  “What are you whispering about?” Darien protested. “It’s bad enough to be talking to a specter, must you also whisper to yourself about me?”

  The old man ignored him entirely, looking up and furrowing his brow. “Let me ask you a question, Executioner. Who is best suited to resist evil? Is it someo
ne young, pure hearted, raised in love and joy and hope, given all the lessons needed to be wise, compassionate, merciful, and good, taught from birth to fight against evil, and kept away from every possible evil and temptation, or, on the other hand, is it someone who knows evil, who has walked the path of evil, who understands the evil that he faces, who fears it because he knows it only too well, who doubts his own worth and his own goodness?”

  The shade quietly thought for only a moment before responding. “I suppose, if it were my choice, I would choose the first one, someone like Jerris, though perhaps he has known hardship, he is intelligent, strong willed, compassionate, courageous, and his heart knows no evil.”

  “You think so do you? Would you give him the Demon Sword then?”

  “Of course not. I would never lay such a curse upon him.”

  “No, you wouldn’t, because you know what it is. You understand its power, and you fear it. Do you think he would be able to resist its power? If he had Duke Parham at his mercy as you had Avirosa, would he be able to resist having the power both to save your life, and inflict incredible pain upon his most hated enemy? Could he make the choice you made?”

  “I…I don’t know. How can I answer that question? What game are you playing at, old man?”

  “Oh, it is no game. It is a matter of the gravest seriousness.” Ezra leaned forward, upon his gnarled staff. “Galen told you the story of the Demon Sword, he told you the elven champion chosen to wield the blade failed, did he not?” Darien nodded. “Well, the elves believed as you did, that a pure hearted boy would be best able to resist the evil of the blade. They raised him specifically for that purpose. Born to righteous parents, raised in love and joy, taught to revere life, and hate those who take life. They failed, and so colossal was their failure that most of the last elven army died by his hand. The young human who took up the sword had no loyalty to either army. He was little more than a bystander, a young man whose village and family were caught in the fighting. He hated both the demons and the elves who fought them. He was filled with anger and rage, driven by a single purpose, and that purpose overwhelmed everything else, allowing him to become master of the blade long enough to destroy the demons.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I am a guardian of that blade. I suppose the guardian, now,” the old man said wistfully.

  The half-elf rubbed his temples in frustration, and answered, “Fine, even if I just accept that, what does it mean?”

  “When I first met you on the island in the fog, I believed that the sword would destroy you. Now, I am not so certain. It may be that destiny has chosen you for something greater than I realized. Even so, I would still use it only in the direst need. If the risk is truly worth it, then you may succeed.”

  So, I finally understand what he did to me, and he still manages to leave me with another riddle, Darien thought. I don’t suppose it matters. I always knew that if the need were great enough, I would use the sword. The choice was always mine anyway. “Well, old man is that all you have to say?” There was no reply. He looked up to see that Ezra was gone, once again vanished into nothing, an insubstantial apparition that only he could see.

  “Who are you talking to?” a woman’s voice came from behind him. He recognized the voice of the golden-haired southerner immediately.

  “Rana? No one. I’m only thinking out loud.”

  “That isn’t what it sounded like. Are you all right? What are you doing out here?”

  “I might ask you the same question.” Darien turned and looked suspiciously at her, wondering whether she was attempting to spy on him.

  “Well, um…,” the woman shifted her weight and looked away under the Executioner’s uncomfortable stare. “I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk. The guard said you already went out, and then made me promise to tell you that he didn’t send me after you. What did you say to him anyway? He was white as a sheet.”

  “I wanted to enjoy an evening walk, and he seemed to be under the impression that I wasn’t supposed to leave,” Darien smiled dryly. “I just explained that he was mistaken in that belief. I suppose he took it the wrong way.”

  “You didn’t have to scare him half to death, you know.” Rana said. “Do you really need everyone you meet to be terrified of you?”

  “Fear can be a useful tool. Intimidation can be used to avoid an unnecessary fight, or gather information without calling a great deal of attention to oneself,” the Executioner argued calmly. “Contrary to what you may think of me, I usually prefer to avoid conflict if I can. If people fear me, then they won’t challenge me; they leave me alone. I can get what I need, be it information or cooperation, without having to waste any effort arguing the point, or drawing attention to myself with needless physical confrontations.”

  “Is that it, then? It’s just a tool to get what you want?” Rana asked. “You never enjoyed hurting anyone, did you?”

  “Enjoyed, no. I was taught never to act out of fear, or anger, or any other emotion. I carried out my orders without any feeling whatsoever. Only one time did I ever kill by choice, for personal motives. Even then, it gave me no satisfaction. I was simply punishing the guilty, correcting an old injustice. Simply killing people on a whim would have made me the same as those I hated, men who act out of fear and prejudice. I would never allow myself to become like them,” Darien answered. “Part of the reason I took the title of Executioner, was because that was who I wanted to be. The Executioner kills silently, without judgment, without prejudice, without hate, without compassion, without fear. Completely empty of all feeling, a perfectly precise instrument of death. That is what I wanted to become, and it is what I now am.”

  “But now that you don’t have anyone to order you to kill people, you just don’t.”

  “I suppose that’s true. But what’s your point?”

  “I don’t know, it’s just that, well, you’re not at all what I expected,” Rana said with a strange look of confusion, wonder and something unidentifiable on her face.

  “And what did you expect? You saw me for just a single terrible moment of your childhood. You saw an Executioner carrying out a sentence decided by someone else for reasons he didn’t even know,” Darien scoffed at the woman as they walked in the darkness beneath the trees. “Had some other shade been given command of that mission to destroy your kingdom, you would have someone else to imagine as the monster of your nightmares.”

  “I… I know…,” Rana almost whispered, as she shuddered noticeably, and shut her eyes, pausing to gather herself before speaking again. “What did she show you? The faerie queen I mean? I thought for a moment you were really going to use the sword against her. I hope you were bluffing.”

  “I was, and she didn’t show me anything. I knew immediately she was trying to use some kind of magic on me, so I resisted,” Darien explained. “She was too strong for me, so I threatened to use the sword to see if she would risk pursuing the spell under that threat. I was assessing her, seeing how she would react, seeing what sort of enemy she might be, if she were an enemy. Had she reacted differently, I would have been far less inclined to listen to anything she said. She may well have realized that.”

  “So…you didn’t see anything in her eyes, any pictures?” Rana stammered out nervously.

  “No, did you? Is that why you’re asking?”

  “Yes, when she looked in my eyes, I couldn’t look away. I was terrified, then she showed me something… awful. It was me, but it wasn’t me.” The golden haired woman shuddered from head to toe. “It was like a dream that I couldn’t escape, she showed me doing… terrible things. I went so far in my quest for vengeance. I became something hideous… terrifying, and I understood what it was. It was her vision, what would have happened if I hadn’t seen you kill my family. Without someone specific to focus on, I would have just… blamed everyone, and become something horrible.” Rana looked down at her feet as they continued along, and sighed deeply. “I thought that image of my family’s death, of my brot
her dying for me. I thought that was what drove my vengeance, but it wasn’t. It was something else, something I didn’t even know was there. I felt it inside me, and I can still feel it.”

  “Guilt.” The word suddenly appeared in Darien’s mind unbidden, so quickly and powerfully that he could not stop himself from saying it. He spoke not for Rana, but for himself, and realized he should not have. The shade fell silent, not knowing what else to do but pretend he had not spoken.

  “Yes, how did you know…?”

  “I have known many like you.” The quick minded shade quickly regained his composure, and put forth a decently innocent explanation. “You should have died with them, but you didn’t, and you hate yourself for it. You hate your own weakness, because you weren’t strong enough to stop what was happening. You’ll do anything not to feel that again.”

  “I… yes, that’s it exactly…” She stopped in mid stride, and Darien turned to see her eyes widen with shock. She then looked for the first time directly into the half-elf’s eyes with something other than hatred, and he felt a strange discomfort, an anxiety without any cause that he could understand. “It was so awful, seeing that inside myself for the first time, and there was more. Gods, she was going to show me something worse, but then she stopped for some reason, and looked over at you again.” Darien turned away and stared off into the distance, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She paused, then her mouth dropped open. “Did you… Was it something you did? Did you see what she was doing and stop her, like you stopped her from doing it to you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Darien protested bitterly. The woman had figured out exactly what happened, yet in that moment, he desperately wished she hadn’t. His anxiety was now nearly a panic, and he still could not understand why. “I had no idea she was showing you anything. How would I have known to stop her?” A very believable denial, and not entirely untrue.