Part IV: Karel, who seeks blood

Renault dreamt of a darkened room. He dreamt of a man in unobtrusive dark clothing rummaging through drawers looking for something, looking for valuables in hidden places. He dreamt of an angry, angry man with a heart overfilling with darkness, who had on the ends of his arms hands that felt greedy and power-hungry whenever they moved. In one was clutched a small dagger, in the other a thin piece of metal for prying open locked things. He dreamt of a man who appeared in a doorway in his sleeping-clothes and ran to bar his path, sword in hand, yelling you will never take my son you thief or some such futile thing. Then the man raised the knife to the other man's throat, slicing across then burying it in the man's chest. The sound of evil laughter, and then blackness.

"Don't move. Don't move a muscle."

Renault opened his eyes and looked around. He sat back against the wall of the wagon, his sight flickering into focus, groggy. His face was soaked with cold sweat. He saw the phantom image of a knife and a face filled with fear fade away from his mind.

What—what happened? This—

"Do you want to die? Do you need to feel the taste of blood?"

Who is that?

Renault felt steel against his neck. It was cold. Standing before him was a man in a long blue robe and a long, curved blade that looked to be from the East. Renault slowly inched his head up to see a face leering hatefully down at him, a terrible plateau curtained by straight strands of black hair. The blade was steady against the bishop's neck.

"Who—who are you?" Renault said, swallowing. The man sneered indifferently.

"Don't say a word You are...strong. I can tell. Whoever you are. Maybe your blood can sate my blade. I challenge you, warrior. A fight to the death." The man holding the blade smiled. His body trembled as though someone had grabbed him by the arms and shook him. His eyes were glassy and distant-and red, blood-red upon bone-white. Renault's heart sank. For one fleeting moment he thought he saw a devil living in the man's face, beckoning him, ready to take him away from Elimine's Paradise and drag him, kicking and screaming if it must, into hell itself. Renault kept silent and recited a prayer in his head.

The caravan did not seem to be moving. The elder bishop found it hard to swallow. His eyes slowly looked around, trying to learn what he could. The wagon was near light-less, so it was probably still night. There were neither sounds of complaining nor snores from the adjacent wagon, so Merlinus was likely absent. The man who threatened him was tall, with a loose, wiry frame, and a deathly pale face, sustained only by the pale fire burning in his eyes. In fragments of seconds, Renault sized him up. He would be fast but with his frame and his unstable mindset, easily knocked off balance. He wore a light robe but no armor and his stance was that of a Sacaen swordmaster. Likely he would try to end the fight in a single stroke, and if not, a steady offense could disrupt his footwork. He was young, so he could surely outlast Renault should neither end it quickly.

An isolated part of Renault's mind told him it would be easy, it would be simple enough to flay the intruder with one fluid horizontal stroke. He felt ready. Ready to fight, ready to kill, and a chill coursed through his body at how quickly the feeling had struck.

"I've heard you were quite a master swordsman, long ago," the man holding the blade said, his voice frighteningly calm and void of affect. He grinned to belie his placid tone, still quivering in anticipation. "A legendary mercenary, seeker of power,."

"That…that was long ago," Renault said. "Why—why do you say this? What is it that you want?"

"I want a good fight. I think…" The man looked down. Renault could not tell but it seemed to him as though the man's arms were trembling. "I think that I would like to spill your blood, man. No, less than a man, just a doll, a lump of flesh and bone and sinew. I'll make an end to it. It dies today and I will revel over your defeat."

"I am no warrior!" Renault said, nearly yelling. He turned his head to the side and stared off at the blank wall of the caravan. He wanted the distantly familiar feeling of electricity barreling through his veins to disappear. "I am a humble servant of Elimine, and nothing more."

"Why do you lie? Are you ashamed of your strength, or afraid?"

"W-what are you talking about?"

"Take the sword." The man took from underneath his robes a small silver sword and threw it on the ground at the bishop's feet. He then slowly withdrew the curved blade from the holy man's neck, stepped back, and readied his blade at his waist with both hands, crouched low, eyes gleaning.

"W-What in the good name of the Saint is this?"

"I am giving you your chance to fight me. My name is Karel, demon the sword." Karel licked his lips, his night-black hair disheveled and unruly. "Banish me to hell, Reverend, or I'll deliver you to heaven!"

Karel charged forward. Renault almost reached for the silver sword, stopped, closed his eyes, and then opened them. The tip of Karel's blade was lodged in the wooden wall behind him, a hair's length to the side of Renault's robed arm.

"Are you that ready to lay down and die? Killing means nothing if you don't fight. I came here looking for a good fight, not to slaughter you like a bloody, wailing lamb." Karel pulled his sword from the wall, stepped back. "I will gut you. Do you understand? I will cut every piece of meat from your flesh and snap your bones. Do you understand?"

What is this? Renault thought. Without even understanding, he leaped to his feet, snatched the silvered sword in his hand, and readied it, arms and legs remembering their proper positions after years of neglect, as if he had never laid down his sword to begin with. Am I still dreaming? I cannot be! But this is a nightmare—like a nightmare— a nightmare incarnate!

"Good! Now," Karel said, and he walked forward, his blade held loosely to the side. "You can see what true bloodlust is. You know it too, don't you? Just look into your eyes, can't you see it?" Karel's face lit and he smiled wildly, cackling as he rushed forward, his body low against the ground, so quickly it was like the wind itself and he swept in with his blade, curving in an upward arc towards Renault, and time began to slow, as though this were seen through the monocle of Saint Elimine herself.

Who is this man?! Renault thought as the marauder moved his blade towards him, and Renault moved his blade to match without even thinking. This can't be a random assassin. God save me! My lord!

A timely block deflected the first stroke. Karel switched the blade's position to the other side of his body, leaned low again and slashed again, again deflected by the larger edge of the bishop's silver sword. He attacked again and retreated, attacked again and retreated, until the slashes were coming from all angles, every horizontal thrust nearly grazing the walls of the wagon, every upward strike cutting the ceiling, every movement of the bishop's sword coming only as a reflex, only as a defensive maneuver to shield his body from the unrelenting strikes. One stroke of the demon's blade rose upward, and Renault leaned forward and thrust the weight of his body behind his blade. Karel stepped back, pulling his blade away, almost dancing backwards with his feet rump-rumping against the floor of the wagon. His sword whirled around him like a whorl of wind. Renault took the precious moment to breathe in.

Karel laughed, holding his blade downward to his right side, moving his feet left and right as if caging his prey. Slowly, his monotone had turned to a manic wail. "For a bishop, you're no pacifist! You're a demon! A demon like me! Just as thirsty with fever as I am! Blood! It calls to me, screams at me, squirms in me! Just die!"

The demon charged forward again and Renault clenched his teeth. For one fraction of a second as Karel charged forth he had felt extremely angry, and at last succumbed to the feeling of power that had washed over him. Renault gripped his sword so hard his palms began to burn and charged forward to meet the devil.

I can't back down, won't back down. This is for my life!

The blades clanged together and Renault charged forward shoulder-first with the full force of his weight, causing Karel to fall and slam against the rear wall of the wagon. The bishop thrust his sword into the air with his right hand and yelled, a terrible bellow enough to cause the sides of the wagon to tremble and titter. It was a yell he had not heard in years. For a moment, the fire in Karel's eyes flickered. Hate alit on Renault's face, the hilt of the sword digging against his palms, the belly of the blade ready to sunder the bloody fool in two. He felt powerful. It was a feeling he had not felt in years, and he didn't think again. He moved, and brought his sword crashing down.

- O -

Everything was a fog. Renault woke from his dream to find himself in a wagon, the phantom images of a knife in his hand and a sword against his neck disappearing with this mist. The wagon was pitch-black and was as silent as death. Renault struggled to stand, and when he did he fell to his knees again. He put his hand against his chest to find his palm soaked with blood, the entire front of his robes stained a dark crimson. His body shook. He felt nauseous. Renault removed his bloodied robe, removed his undershirt, took his staff from his belt, laid its tip against his forehead, and without needing to think, began to pray.

O God…o savior Elimine, my saint, my guiding light, please save me in my time of need. Give me the strength to go on, the strength you've given us all. Save me in my time of need, O Elimine.

The bishop fell back against the wall and after a few seconds began to feel less light-headed. He slowly rose. There was large slash wound across his chest, which still bled slowly but stung less. The floor of the wagon was drenched in blood. At one end of the cabin there was a slumped figure in a blue Easterner's robe, a deep thrusting wound near his ribs, and a large gash across his chin. Renault slowly walked over to him and knelt.

"You. Child. Child, are you well? Did I—did you?"

Gracious Saint, why can I not remember? Those nights so long ago, when I woke in a pool of my own blood, surrounded by corpses...am I to never escape that madness?

The slumped figure on the ground groaned, opened its eyes, and weakly looked up at Renault. "You," he said, cringing, sneering sourly, twitching like an injured creature in the forest. "You. You were stronger. Stronger than I was."

"Karel, was it? Why? What did you mean to accomplish by doing what you did? Who are you?" The bishop looked on sternly, his mending staff still crossed in his arms. The injured man paused a while before he answered, and when he finally opened his eyes and his mouth to speak again, the bishop was surprised to see the hate and malice dwelling quietly in his features.

"I am one of you," Karel said.

"What? One of…us?"

"Your ally. I came with this group to this Isle for one reason," Karel said, with some difficulty. "To bathe…in blood. To perfect the godly art of the sword. To feast on the greatest displays of swordsmanship. I am of a dying breed. The fever...burns within me. I thought you would understand, but you never could."

"Is that your reason?" said Renault. "For honor? Or challenge? Why? Why did you try to kill me? What does killing me accomplish?" And why did I—?

"Uuu-uughhh…" Karel clutched his head with his left hand, and Renault saw it was covered in his blood. His right hand was beginning to loosen its grip on the hilt of his blade. His body rose and shook with every deep, labored breath he took. The demon continued to moan, holding his eyes shut. "Wanted…I wanted to know. Wanted to know—who was greater. That is my purpose."

"Why? What is great about bleeding and dying, truly? What is great about taking a man's life? Is that creation's only easy answer?"

Karel continued to groan, taking large, labored breaths with his mouth, clenching his teeth. He started to roll onto his right side, then screamed in pain and rolled over onto his left, gnashing his teeth, sucking in sharp breaths with every opportunity, digging his fingers into his skull. His teeth chattered, first subtly, then so hard that Renault could almost hear cracking.

"It hurts. It burns!" Karel moaned. "Cursed...in pain...forever."

Renault looked at Karel, squinting his eyes through the darkness, and saw a wound on the right side of his body, near his ribs, a great sanguine patch on his ocean-blue robes. Renault laid his staff against the wound and prayed.

"Blessed Elimine, save this man in his time of need. By your will, by the light, by the grace of all that is holy, MEND THIS MAN'S FLESH!"

And as his spirit worked to transfer the energies to the tip of the rod and then to the fallen man's wounds, Renault thought, And why am I begging Elimine to save this man? Why would I not leave him for dead, as he has tried to take my life? Is this the action that came to me without thinking? Is this my redemption? Is it too late? God, let this all be a dream. Dreams are so much easier to make sense of.

Minutes passed, then Renault slowly removed his staff from the wound. Karel leaned his head up, opened his eyes slowly, and looked at the elderly bishop.

"You—"

"Don't say anything. Your wounds are grave, but you should be all right as long as you don't move and re-open them." Renault slowly rose to his feet. "Rest, child. Sleep now."

"Sleep…I have not been able to for years."

Renault stopped and knelt again, staring into the man's eyes. "For years, say you?"

"Every night, the hunger to kill keeps my eyes open until I can sate it. Cannot lie still. The fever burns within me. Like something alive...cursing me, coursing through me."

"To kill…"

"No," Karel said, looking down at his bloodied hands. "The need to make the living realize. I am no one's pawn. And the dogs...they all come after me, hunting for a kill, attracted by the scent of blood...and I...I must kill them. They cannot...cannot stand...gahhhhnnnggg..." Karel winced and his hand moved to his side; Renault caught his arm by the wrist as it moved, and looked sternly into the demon's face. The demon gazed back.

"Don't touch it. You'll only make it worse. It's best if you do not move." Renault handed Karel an elixir and he quickly finished it.

"Why are you helping me, old man?" Karel said. "Kill me. I've no worth left. I've been beaten by one whose skills surpass mine. Kill me."

Renault looked down, and the two men stared at each other, silent. It was still the dark of night, the cicadas quietly chirping in the background.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no." Renault crossed his staff in his arms. "I am a servant of Elimine. It is my duty to help the wounded and sick. That is my purpose. I would do it even if you tried to stop me. But you will hurt no one else."

Karel gritted his teeth. "You. Senseless, ignorant f—"

"Silence!" Renault barked, and the demon seemed surprised. His eyes, bloodshot and almost feral, sized up the bishop. "I, too, was without a purpose once. But if this is where Elimine's will has guided me, then it is here I will stay until my time on this world is over. I've learned to live for more than just killing. It took years to retrain myself, not to let my anger, my need for vengeance control me. Have you already given up on living life as it should be?"

"I'm so tired…I would welcome sleeping forever," Karel's head lolled to one side. "I'm tired of the thirst. As tired as you are, elder."

"I am tired indeed. I haven't slept, truly slept, for centuries."

One of Karel's eyes rose. "Centuries? Is that long enough…to atone?"

"To atone?"

"I slaughtered my family," Karel said, with the air of one admitting to stealing a piece of meat. "I left my home on the earth under the sky for one somewhere on the edge of hell. I'm beyond redemption. I am a murderer, and murder is against the teachings of your god, is it not? This is my end. My life is forfeit. Kill me."

"No."

"Kill me."

"I will not."

"Are you afraid to finish your deed, or does being a saint restrain your fury? Kill me!"

"I will not!"

I will not! Renault thought. Why this man, in this place, at this time? Why have…why have I appeared before myself? I know there is redemption for this man…I know there is redemption for him! There is no man who is beyond redemption. I cannot...not after so many gave up on me...I cannot let this man waste away.

Karel scoffed. "Gah. Very well. I know what it means to kill legends. I am the rightful God of the Blade. Yet killing me would gain you nothing, is that right? Are those the teachings of your cult? I am the one they call the Sword Demon. The scourge of the earth, the dread murderer. And yet you do not believe in blood for blood? Who am I, if not your enemy? I've killed the greatest warriors on this earth and still I fade away. If you won't kill me, then leave me to disappear."

"If it is your wish to disappear, then maybe you will," Renault said. The night was cold, and he could not simply dress himself in his bloodied clothing again. He wrapped his burly, scarred arms around his shoulders. "If that is what you wish for yourself…to disappear without a trace, without ever asking yourself who you really were…then maybe you will disappear, and it will be as though you never existed. And when your end comes and you are judged by the deeds of your life, could you say what you are? Do you really wish to be judged by your deeds? Is this all you have aspired for?"

"Why do you live, bishop?" Karel said, sitting up with his shoulders against the wagon's rear wall. "For what do you live? You might have a purpose, but a defeated warrior is nothing. Nothing. The lust for blood passes, and nothing remains but the red ribbons of flesh. It is like the hunger for food, and one's purpose is only to eat for all eternity. How do you call that living? I have no reason to live. In any other place, I would be dead. If not for your misplaced mercy, I would be dead."

Renault sat against one of the wagon's walls and pulled a blanket over his shoulders. Through the darkness, he saw Karel fingering the hilt of his sword with his right hand. He did not know where his silver sword had fallen, but he had no intention of picking it up again, even if the demon raised its blade again. "You are," Renault said at last, "a strange person. Though I suppose if I saw my younger self I would say the same of him. Have you always lived this way, surrounded by death and decay?"

"...I suppose you have the right to know. The sword. I was born seeing the sword. I was always the greatest one. I am a man. I must hold the sword. That is my burden."

"How did this begin?"

"I didn't have a choice." Karel brushed a strand of black hair from his face and coughed. "I had to kill. From a young age, I learned. Father Sky and Mother Earth…they won't protect us sorry bastards of the plains. I spent most my days with bloody hands."

"So you…you lived on the plains of Sacae?" Renault leaned forward.

"I was not part of their culture," Karel said. "We were on the edge of it all. We were the lost clan, the ones who never were. We had no one chief, no tribal name, no respect among the other Sacaens. The Law of Sacae did not apply to us. We were invisible to them and they to us. We were less than animals. We were dirt. I wanted it to end and start over. That wasn't my place. I wanted to burn it down and begin again. To build a place for me and my sister to belong. But she turned her back on me, unwilling to spill the blood of all those responsible for our suffering."

"Is that what you wanted?"

Karel closed his eyes. "Is that your skill, to ask difficult questions? Hrm." There was a long pause, and then Karel licked his lips. "Dry…" he said, and then, "I do not know what I ever wanted. But I was taught by my 'gods' that what I wanted didn't matter. As long as I am proud, I serve my purpose. My duty is to succeed the sword...and that's it. It is all I know. It is all I have ever wanted to know."

Renault was silent. He is not like the Fang. He may be disillusioned, but his heart is whole. He doesn't understand what it means to be human yet. He's...like me. He is the same man I was, murdering all those people to attain what can never be attained. Chasing some unreasonable ideal.

"I have done nothing," Karel continued. "I am a disgrace. I have no pride left."

"Is that what you believe?" Renault said, looking into Karel's eyes. They were weak, battered down. "Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that is what you believe?"

"I told you."

"Do you honestly believe your 'pride' is everything? What does pride mean to you, child? Why is it important to be so proud of your every action? Who was it that taught you those lessons?"

"I don't know," Karel said at last. He tried to stand, but fell down, head hitting against the back wall, arms falling limp. "Damn."

"I was a proud fool like you once," Renault said. Karel was too weak to respond; instead he closed his eyes and seemed to listen. The bishop, meanwhile, wrapped the blanket around his shoulders as a cold dark wind whipped through the wagon. "I was lost, angry, without a purpose. I killed simply to hear the screams of my fellow man. I lived only so that I might see others die. The money, the women, and notoriety I earned…they were all consequences of killing so many to sate my desire to be powerful! I thought I could bring back the dead and when I could not, I resorted to the only life I knew how: the life of killing. I was never truly happy. The man I once was is dead, killed by his own foolish pride."

Karel said nothing.

"I truly believed myself to be the greatest mercenary who ever lived. I fancied myself mightier than Hartmut, more valorous than Roland. I believed myself to be a god among mortals. Everyone else was a dog, a worthless cur not fit to even stand in my shadow. And that was because without that, I knew I would have been weak, insignificant, without reason to exist. And without that…" Renault turned away to look at the wall. The expression on his face, hidden away, was one of pain. He felt his soul echo in his chest. "Without that, I would have been dead long, long ago."

Karel said nothing.

"And I knew that there must be a reason that I lived. I gave my trust to a man who I believed would make me immortal. I thought that my pride had earned me the respect of every man and woman on Elibe! Now I know that there must be a reason I yet live. I believe that there is a reason for everything that happens in this world. You may not believe that, and I would respect that choice. You must find your own path, son. But when I see you, and I see the mistakes you have made, the mistakes you regret, the regret that you hide behind your hatred...I will not let you fall victim to the scourges that claimed me. It was not until I lose someone dear to me that I realized how ephemeral all the things in life are. We are all meant to die one day, and God willing we will find ourselves rewarded for our good deeds. Do not let something you hold dear be lost before you realize the error of your ways. I refuse to believe I am beyond redemption. Nor do I believe that of you. If anything," Renault stood up, and nearly yelled, "I will die to prove your life! If you believe nothing else, believe this! Kill me now, if you wish, but I will never be the one to strike you down."

Karel said nothing. Then, "Do you honestly feel that way, bishop?"

"You are a good man," Renault said, looking down upon Karel. "A fundamentally good man who has been led astray. I know. The Saint can affirm, I know, all too well. If you wish it, I will die here, die as I should have done a long time ago. If you yet live, then one day you will understand. If a wretch like me can be saved, then so can you."

Karel's head sank down into his shoulders. He looked away, and eventually his eyes returned to the bishop. "I am so tired, bishop," he said. "Tired listening to the distant words of fools and madmen. So, so tired."

Renault knelt at the man's side and looked into his eyes.

"Then sleep. Elimine has said that all Her children are Saints in their sleep. You will be redeemed in the morning. We may all be redeemed in the morning. All we must do is believe. I do not have much left to me. All I have is my mind and my faith. All I can do now is believe."

Karel closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep. Renault sat against the wall and breathed.

"Believe."