Chapter 19: An "E-vil... Man"

Ragnar looked around the densely packed forest. There wasn't much room around him and the tiny clearing where the well was. Healie timidly poked its head out of the well, taking a brief look around as well.

"Who said that?" Ragnar asked Healie, still searching the forest.

"E-vil... e-vil... e-vil..." Healie repeatedly stuttered, visibly shaking in fright.

"Evil?" the emotionless voice said. It seemed to be coming from all around the forest. "Hardly at all. We are liberators in this unjust world."

"Where are you?" Ragnar shouted into the forest, still trying to search the dense foliage. "Show yourself if you aren't a coward!"

"No need to be rude," the voice said. It was now coming from directly in front of Ragnar. Out stepped a short man in a long, gray robe, clutching a wooden staff. He was wearing a strange, flattop hat with dark hair flowing out from it, covering his ears. His face was long and he had dark, almond shaped eyes. "I'm right here," the man said, smiling.

Ragnar unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the strange man. "Are you the cause of these healers on these pikes?" he asked. He turned to Healie, who was cowering in the well. The healer was positively terrified of the man just a few feet in front of Ragnar.

"Why should you care?" the strange man said, still smiling. "Aren't they just 'monsters', as you humans put it?"

'You humans'? What did the strange man mean by that? Wasn't he human as well? "Not all monsters are alike, I've learned," Ragnar said, keeping his sword between the strange man and him. "These healers saved me down in the caves when-"

"Yes, I know all that," the strange man interrupted. He looked at the soldier, studying Ragnar's expressions. Smiling broadly, he said, "You don't even know what I am, do you."

"Should I?"

The strange man began to gingerly finger his staff. He continued to study Ragnar's face, and then muttered, "No, I guess you wouldn't. Since you're going to die, I might as well let you know."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself," Ragnar snarled, hardly moving his mouth. What was it about this strange man that made him feel so odd? The eyes and face were strange, that much was a certainty, but there was something else, a placid, serene look on the man's otherwise cocky facial expressions that seemed un-human.

"I am," the strange man said, still gingerly fingering his staff. Slowly, he moved his other hand to the flat top hat and grabbed the rim. "Here's a hint," he said, removing it. The hair that had been covering most of his head fell limp without the support of the hat to hold most of it up. It fell down on his shoulders, slightly curling back up at the ends.

However, it was not the hair's hidden length that had left Ragnar shocked. It was the ears, most of which had been covered by the hair and hat.

They were pointed at the ends!

"You're a... you're... a...!" Ragnar stuttered, not believing what he was seeing. His sword began to waver in his hand.

"An elf?" the strange man suggested, tilting his head so Ragnar could get a better look at the ears. "Yes, I suppose that I am."

The elf suddenly stopped fingering his staff and formed a fist. "And you..." he said, "are dead!"

The elf's fist folded open, and a tiny, white aura had formed in his palm. "Infernos!" he suddenly cried out and threw the white aura at Ragnar. The soldier, despite being shocked by the fact an elf stood before him, managed to get his blade up in time to block the white aura. However, it just passed through the blade, and then split into six individual blades of air. The tiny blades whipped across Ragnar's body, flaying the flesh from his skin.

Ragnar instinctively clutched at a wound that had cut into his left wrist, dropping his sword. Blood leaked out of an artery rapidly and Ragnar tried to apply to pressure to the lesion to stop the bleeding. Too late had he realized that he had let his guard down when he heard the elf again chant, "Infernos!"

Several more blades of air cut through Ragnar's skin. The pain was sharp but not intense, so Ragnar couldn't even scream out in agony. He had to kill the elf before he bled to death!

Slowly, Ragnar reached out for his sword but before he could grab it, the elf chanted the spell again. The soldier's skin ruptured, allowing more blood to flow freely outside its vessels.

Ragnar was beginning to get dizzy again from the loss of blood and collapsed beside the well. He heard the elf laugh, heard him say that he was going to cast the spell until his skin was gone, then until his meat was gone, then until his intestines and entrails were gone, until even the bones were gone. It didn't matter to Ragnar. It all seemed a long ways away and the pain becoming duller and duller.

His thoughts began to drift, about all of his other near death experiences. The fire when he was a child, on the trip back to Burland Castle, then down in the cave only to be saved by the healers, and now-

Ragnar suddenly remembered how he survived the cave. The healers had healed his wounds and there was a healer just a foot away, cowering inside the well.

"Healie," Ragnar weakly mumbled. "Can... you... hear me?"

A timid, "Yes," came from the well.

"I... need your... help," Ragnar mumbled. A sharp pain erupted on his right arm and the soldier clutched it, a futile gesture with the already numerous wounds. He removed his hand and saw he had been clutching muscle tissue! He grimaced at the sight but quickly put the pain aside.

"Healie..." Ragnar mumbled. "Heal...me..."

"I... I... I... e-vil... man... e-vil... man... kill... we..." Healie stuttered, absolutely terrified of the elf.

"I... know..." Ragnar managed to say. His lungs were burning with every word now, "but I can... kill... him if you... heal me." He instinctively grabbed his other arm in pain, wincing as it seemed to shoot fires through his skin as he touched it. He managed to turn to the well and mutter, "Revenge..." before he slipped into a dream-like state.

The pain, the well, the elf, even the forest around him, all seemed to be a world away. He was floating just a few feet from Burland Castle. He did not know why he was here or how he arrived. All he knew was that he was here.

He floated towards a window just on the outskirts of the town surrounding the castle walls. He couldn't see the house the window belonged to. It just seemed to be attached to a wooden wall in the middle of nowhere. There was someone in the window. He floated down for a closer look. It looked like a woman, a woman with long, auburn hair. Mary? No, it was someone else, but who? Who else did he know that had auburn hair like Mary's? His mother? No, she was dead! The woman looked up through the window and seemed to notice him. She smiled. A gentle peace filled his being when he looked upon her smile.

He longed to be with this woman, to be in the company with the peaceful smile, to escape all of the pain of the world, all of the chaos that seemed to encroach his simple life. He started to float towards her and her arms opened wide to receive his embrace.

She vanished.

A searing pain shot through Ragnar's body as he regained consciousness. The first thing he saw was his arm. He expected it to be soaked in blood, his muscle tissue pulsing in the air. He saw new skin being formed, covering the open wounds.

Without even thinking, he muttered, "Healie?" The soldier looked at the healer. Its tentacles were waving a rhythmic fashion, and then pointing them at Ragnar. His wounds were closing almost as fast as they were being formed. He then remembered the elf.

Ragnar turned to face the elf. The elf seemed to have a surprised look on his face. Ragnar realized why. The elf hadn't expected Healie to heal Ragnar so quickly, if at all.

"This isn't possible!" the elf exclaimed, his mouth open in shock. "A healer can't cast magic like that!"

Ragnar slowly stood up. The wounds were closing fast but he was still a bit dizzy from the loss of blood. He grabbed his sword and it felt heavy in his hands now. The soldier took a step forward but his head began to swim, his world swaying back and forth. Easy, he thought, slowly moving. Don't move too quickly. Let Healie cure me at his own pace.

The elf began to back up, realizing the danger he was in if Ragnar was back to full strength. "Infernos!" he chanted again and threw the white aura of magical energy at the advancing soldier. Tiny blades of air cut through Ragnar's skin but Healie's magic cured the wounds as soon as they formed.

The last spell the elf had cast had caused Ragnar to wince in pain and his dizziness overtook him, stumbling a few steps. But when Healie cured the new wounds, the spell refreshed his stamina and the dizziness passed. He could now see clearly and the elf was terrified.

Healie cast the spell again and Ragnar's strength and anger surged. He wanted to stick his sword deep in the elf's bowels and twist the sword in elongated circles. He wanted to slowly saw his blade through the elf's neck. For all of the pain the elf had caused on him, the soldier wanted to make the elf hurt even more.

Ragnar took two large steps, covering more ground then any man of his size. He was upon the elf in less than five seconds, bringing his sword to his enemy's chest. All he had to do was plunge his sword through and it would all be over.

He hesitated.

The elf's face was of pure terror, cold sweat running down his face and dripping onto Ragnar's hands. This isn't right, Ragnar thought. This isn't me. He started to relax his grip on the elf.

"Kill... e-vil... man!" Ragnar heard a bubbly voice from behind.

He then remembered the healers on the pikes, the healers that had saved him, the healers that had pleaded to him to save them from this elf in his grasp. He remembered the amount of pain he received by this elf and the amount that the elf enjoyed giving it. He remembered his promise to Healie to avenge its comrades, impaled upon the pikes just a few feet away.

Ragnar plunged the blade through the elf's chest, straight to the hilt. The elf screamed in pain, blood welling up his throat. Ragnar twisted his blade a bit, adding extra pain to the elf. The screams of agony were like music to the soldier. His eyes were narrow, filled with hatred.

Then, suddenly, Ragnar's eyes mellowed and his mouth fell slack. He realized what he was doing. He was killing in cold blood, and enjoying it!

He quickly pulled his sword out. The elf screamed as he did so.

Ragnar let go of the elf and took a few staggered steps back. The elf's blood covered his sword, oozing down the hilt and onto his hand. Ragnar quickly tossed the sword to the ground and looked at his hands, the elf's blood slowly making tiny streaks down his freshly healed skin.

He looked up and saw the elf collapse to the muddy ground. "Oh, god!" Ragnar breathed as he watched the dying elf fall. The soldier rushed over and tried to hold him up.

What had he done? He had expected to maybe wound the elf to get by, maybe even knock him unconscious, but not to kill him like this. Ragnar tried to tell himself that he had no choice, that the elf would have killed him if he hadn't done this. But seeing the elf convulsing as the last of his life escaped like the blood gushing out of the chest wound, Ragnar couldn't help but feel guilty, full of pity, full of sorrow.

"I'm... sorry," he murmured into the elf's ear, unsure whether he heard him or not. He felt tears welling into his eyes.

The elf turned his eyes to Ragnar for a moment and the soldier had a brief flash of hope that he would survive.

"May... Esturk... eat... your soul," the elf muttered with blood-soaked words. He then spat a mouthful of blood at Ragnar. The soldier jumped back, shocked by the elf's actions. The elf gave a bloody smile to Ragnar, and then the body went limp, moving no more.