Day 292 – (A Paladin is Unconquered)

Day 292 – (A Paladin is Unconquered)

I'm going to die.

I've known that for a while, now.  Rather, I'd expected it.  Maybe I've hoped for it.

There wasn't ever anything else to hope for.  Not really.  To have gotten married would be to expose my wife to the taint of demonic energy inside of me.  To have married a monster would have been to succumb to the taint that caused my mother and father to abandon me.  To have done anything but defy it to the last moment would have been to condone its existence.

Death alone could give some semblance of purity to this benighted existence.

So why does my heart beat so quickly now, watching the figure advance on me?

It is because I've known some small happiness in this city, I think.  I've known peace walking my route.  I've known comfort in my apartment, resting and reviewing my forms.  I've known satisfaction in furthering my word training and protecting the people here.

And I've known friendship.  I've known it the whole of the time I've spent with the people here.  Thomas, Erlinson, and the others.  Lilianwe and her little diner.  The police mare and her infinite frustration with everything I do.

Cathyn.

In turns, nothing has been more frustrating, amusing, or even pleasant than the time I've spent talking with that succubus.

I won't get to talk to her again.  Not her, or anyone else.

My arm reaches for my sword, but I can't find it.  I couldn't even say when or where I'd lost it.

Her.  I'm thinking of it as a “her,” now.

Oh well, that's fine.  She'll be safer without anyone hunting down monsters to find and stop this baphomet.

As I watch the half-crescent blade lift into the air, the madness of the thought is all that I can focus on.  Am I happy that my death will make a succubus safer?

Hells.  I am.

And I'm going to die smiling.  I would never have guessed.

I close my eyes as the blade descends.

I open them as I hear metal strike metal.  The baphomet and I both stare as its blade tremulously holds, unable to progress beyond the pitted, iron blade hanging in the air between us.
“Your work is not finished, scion,” a voice rings out.  “Rise and take me if you wish to live!”
I don't need more encouragement.  I grab the handle as I push myself from the toppled piles of books I'd landed on, and it pulls me back onto my feet.

“What is that,” my opponent asks, her eyes glued to it.
“A paladin's blade.”
It hefts its weapon with both hands, and calls out “No matter!”

Perhaps it's the ease with which the last of the Words I spoke left my lips, or the intensity in my opponent's gaze, but my lips part before I can think to move them.

---

"Four are the shields that guard against darkness, and five are the blades that we bring to bear."

“The weakness that confounds our efforts on and off the battlefield is two-fold in nature.  The first is the weakness of flesh; we are easily injured in comparison to monsters - able to be taken from combat by the pain of our wounds.  The second is the weakness of spirit; we are cowed by their raw strength and magical power, and are made to know fear by their cruelty.  By this Litany, we overcome both, and thus break their hold over our flaws.”

---

The sword moves as though it predicts where my hand will take it, and wishes to get there first.  My arm moves as though the concept of fatigue was alien to it.  My mind takes both facts in with a speed that I didn't think I was capable of.

Yet still, as I parry the scythe I'm awed by the power behind it.  The full depth and breadth of my strength, even multiplied, is barely sufficient to divert its course.  The edge of it whistles through the air an inch from my face and I am powerless to move it further.  My legs take me around the room almost without any attention on my part, guided purely by my unthinking memory of its layout.

In this moment, I am as skilled a swordsman as I had ever imagined I could be, but the strength in front of me is still far beyond me.  What few counterattacks I can afford to attempt are parried so easily that it feels like little more than an insult to have even tried.

And then, with a single step, the battle is decided.
An open book slides out from beneath a cloven hoof, and it lets out a sudden “hwa” as it falls.
And my blade is at its neck before it reaches the ground.

I stand there for a moment, breathing lightly as I cease the Litany.
It stares back at me.
Confused and frustrated, I half-ask “you were holding back on me.”  Its expression shifts.  It seems as frustrated as I am.  Even so, it doesn't answer.  “Why?”
“I didn't want to kill you,” it finally admits.

“To want someone dead, but lack the conviction to kill.”  I breathe out sharply, as though I'd expected myself to laugh.  “Your animosity index wasn't high enough.  Sixty to seventy percent, most likely.”

“Well, go on,” it says.
“No.”
It stares up at me, even more confused than before.  “Why?”
“Because I'm issuing your arrest, miss, for the attempted murder of a paladin.  You are to be tried in accordance with Megalan law.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.  Yes, I do.”
“Excellent.  The nice people outside will handle the rest, I think.”

“The wh-” it begins to ask as the door cracks open and a half-dozen paladins rush inside.

---

“Sabbath is active again, and it's in the business of murder.”

“Autocrat.”  I turn afterward to gaze at the man as he approaches.  He's beaming with a wide, confident smile.
“And you, Victor, are still alive.”
“So I am.”
He claps his hand on my shoulder.  “Come now, Victor, where's that smile?  We just got a piece of news that I'd been waiting for since I was your age.  Actual intent to kill from one of these things – we might be able to repeal some laws with this.  After that, even the war isn't a certainty anymore.  You're going to be a household name in the whole country.”

“So I am.”

His brow furrows slightly.  “First time really facing life or death, eh, Victor?  Well, best thing for it is some drink and some rest.  I'd suggest you get both, tonight, in whichever order you feel comfortable with.  Want a guard escort?”
“No sir.  I'm fine, really.”
“I've seen this before, Victor.  Ain't feeling much of anything right now, are you?  Get a drink in you and then go to bed, them's orders.”
“Sir.”

I salute, I turn, and I walk.  Old, familiar buildings pass me by.  One of the routes I've taken a hundred times by now.

I know this place.  I know these people.  I don't know what's going to happen to them.  I barely know who I am.

I stop, drawing my blade.  “You saved me.”
“So I did,” it answers.  She?  It has a feminine voice, for whatever that means.
“Why?”
“When first you laid your hand upon me, I saw goodness within you.  The test is not yet complete.  You have been given one year and one day.”

I look away, at my surroundings.  I don't know when I'd decided I would be going to the Broken Tail.
I don't know when I'd arrived at that alleyway.
I look at it, as though I'd expected to see the body, still.  Each time.  Every time.

“I've killed innocents.  What goodness could you have seen?”
“You haven't, noble scion.”  I look back toward it.  “I would not have permitted you to kill an innocent with me.  She meant you harm.”

“Ah,” is all the answer I have.

I stare silently at the distorted image of the alley as the tears fall from my eyes.