God Slayer

“Rain,” he thought to himself, “I used to like the rain.”

He urged his horse forward through the mud, envisioning bright sunny skies with a misty rain falling on green fields the stretched to the horizon. Picturing the rich wetlands of the Grey Marshes, where he’d spent his early life. but, he knew that the Grey Marshes he’d known had long since become a wasteland and only remained beautiful in his mind. He lifted his cloaked head and smirked bitterly at the dark expanse before him. He saw smoke rising above the trees and the sloppy path became a clay hardened road. The road, he knew would lead to a town called Canasus.

He sighed, because even though it was nearing midnight and the weather was cold and wet,

Canasus was a village that never slept. A small stopover between Vermorin and the grand capital of the East… Essensia. Canasus was the last place for supplies, a warm bed and most of all, the many whorehouses that gave Canasus it’s rather despicable reputation. He pushed on, despite his desire for privacy and aversion to most people, as emptiness of both purse and wine skin made stopping that night a necessary evil.

He smirked again with the dark humor that never left him. He thought to himself, “I used to like people once, too.” This thought made him realize how much of his happiness lay in a far distant past. A past that he longed to forget, ironically, as his former life was the cause of his current angst. An angst which had followed him for more than seven hundred years. His horse moved slowly through the softening clay, splashing mud on the numerous urchins who littered the streets. They looked up at the large, dark hooded man entering their town and as expected a quiet panic began permeating the atmosphere at his arrival. He felt a slight satisfaction at this, regarding these creatures as beneath him and unworthy mortals, who were best served by staying away from him.

“They should fear me”, he thought to himself. “they’re right to be afraid.”

He saw them turn away, running to warn their friends and family. By the time he rode up to the Ramshackle Inn, the streets had emptied and the name “Thog” floated upon the misty air like an approaching plague. He stepped down, tying his horse at the post. He hesitated long enough to take a breath before stepping through the door.

Inside, the Ramshackle Inn was brightly lit by oil burning lamps, which destroyed the last remnants of Lord Thog’s anonymity. His heavy leather boots thudded against the wooden planks of the floor. His long, black leather cloak dripped moisture onto the rotting floorboards as he removed his hood and revealed his face… Hardened by time and the elements, he was still handsome, with a strong jaw and long curls, wet from the rain, flowing past his shoulders. His eyes remained a mystery, always hidden by the darkened spectacles he’d specially commissioned ages ago. No one saw the eyes of Lord Thog, for legend told that they would pierce the viewers soul and give him the purest visions of Hell itself.

He found a table toward the back, away from annoying company, he sat, quickly removing his riding gloves and scanning the room with suspicion. He knew how everyone regarded him, as he allowed his long, matted curls to cover his face. He could feel their fear of him, like the sun on a hot day against his face. He knew their uneasiness very well and he lamented another kinder version of himself that no longer existed.

He remembered being a carefree child back in the Grey Marshes where he was born. He remembered frolicking through the wet swampy earth. He remembered a girl. He could never forget her.

The Innkeeper frowned at the sight of his newest patron. He slowly shook his head as he washed out a tankard, before summoning Sienna from the kitchen. Sienna had been working at the Ramshackle since before her parents were killed years before. After their deaths, the Innkeeper, a man called Karl took her in, mostly to recover the large debt owed him by her father. She lived in a small space below the Inn and had little contact with the world outside Canasus. Because of this, Karl hoped that she wouldn’t recognize Lord Thog or that she hadn’t heard the legend of the undying one. Either way, he made it immediately clear to her that he wouldn’t be serving this customer himself.

“Take that man’s order, dear. He looks hungry.” Of course, she knew this meant that he looked rich, but she didn’t care. Her life was one of drudgery and serving another rude soldier was nothing to her. She nodded, taking a tray before she was stopped by the sight of Lord Thog, brooding at his table. Karl knew that he hadn’t fooled Sienna at all.

“Have you ever heard of Lord Thog of the Grey Marshes?” Karl asked.

“Is… Is that?” She stammered and stepped back behind the large Innkeeper.

“So, what of it? He is a customer! No different than any other. If you like your current accommodations, you’ll hurry along.” Karl turned and walked into the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation. Taking a deep breath, Sienna walked to the dark man brooding in the corner. Before she can say a word, Lord Thog slides a small bag of silver toward her on his table.

“Bring wine until that’s gone.” Thog said, knowing that he was spending his last money.

Feeling relieved at this simple transaction, Sienna turned to bring the wine. She didn’t need any “legends” complicating her life any further, she thought. Yet, as the night went by, Sienna began to quietly muse at the “legend” who was now opening his fourth bottle. Despite his reluctance for words, she couldn’t stop looking at him. Wondering if all the stories about him were true. “Was he really an immortal? Had he really killed all those men? Won all the legendary battles and most importantly… Why is he here?” Sienna whispered, not intending to be heard, but Karl stood near her with similar thoughts running through his own mind.

“Who knows? Perhaps the Empress is looking for Generals for some campaign or other? I hear that’s his lot in life now… soldier for hire.”

She glanced at Karl, before returning her gaze to the enigmatic Lord Thog. “Soldier for hire? With all his power? Isn’t he… immortal?”

“So, they say.”

“I hear that he’s ten thousand years old and that he killed all of the old gods who…”

“Yes, I’ve heard much the same. I have also heard that he has hair of fire and spouts lightning from his fingers and the mighty wind from his nostrils.”

Together, they turn to regard him yet again…

“He seems rather tame, all things considered.” Sienna rubbed her chin, as was her habit.

As they remained focused on Lord Thog, a group of four men entered the inn. They had obviously just seen combat from their garb and the various cuts and blood splattered on their faces and armor. They stood in contrast from the quiet customer in the corner… Loud, raucous and demanding immediate attention, like hungry babies crying for the tit.

“You’d best get their order, lass.” Karl pointed at the group standing in the doorway. She frowned, recognizing them from many past encounters at the Ramshackle. They were the worst sort of customer, rude, cheap and filthy. Still, she dutifully crossed the floor to them.

“It’s about time, wench!” Shouted the largest amongst them. From his decoration, he appeared to be the leader. “Your best table and your best wine!!” Sienna nodded and as she turned, felt a swat to her backside, which was unwelcome, but accepted as she led them to the opposite side of the inn from where Lord Thog sat. Sienna, always a creature to follow her instinct, sensed a wisdom is keeping this lot separate from him. Wordlessly, she scurried away to fulfill their order, which Karl already had waiting.

“Best be quick now, Sienna. You know how Kain can be.” Karl handed her a tray with wine and mead. She frowned again, recalling not only Kain’s name, but her last interaction with him. He was a crude and indecent man. However, if he was in a merry mood, he could be quite generous, and he did seem to be celebrating a victory. She moved quickly, keeping her head down, ignoring their comments and lewd gazes. As she poured the final flagon, she breathed a slight sigh of relief and turned to leave.

“Hold fast, wench!” Kain took Sienna by her arm, spinning her around to face him. “We’re not finished yet, woman! We’ve a thirst for more than just wine!” She knew better than to struggle, but as Kain grasped her breasts and attempted repeatedly to force his lips onto hers, an old instinct seemed to take over and almost against her will, Sienna struck the mountainous savage on the bridge of his nose, drawing blood! It seemed just then, as though time stopped momentarily. Sienna drew back her hand and stepped back as Kain touched his nose, more from surprise than pain. He saw his own blood there on his filthy hand.

“Stupid wench!!” Karl shouted, running toward them from behind the bar, hoping to calm the situation before damage was done to his bar!

“Please, my lord Kain you must forgive this unworthy girl! She knows nothing of…” Karl found himself cut short by the tip of a sword touching his nose. One of Kain’s men had moved quickly and with

Karl frozen by fear, Sienna knew what would happen next. She felt the impact of the back of Kain’s hand, followed by the salty taste of blood filling her mouth. She knew enough from past experiences to fall instantly to her knees. Sometimes, she’d found, this would elicit some form of mercy from such men, but Kain was not a man of mercy. He reached down to where Sienna cowered and lifted her by her long black hair until she looked him directly in the eye.

“Do you know what happened to the last man to strike me, poppet?” His men laughed at the defiance on her face. She had known abuse her entire life and she would not give this brute any more satisfaction by being afraid anymore. She spoke no words, but her eyes blazed with hatred and disdain. Kain saw this and became even angrier, striking her again until she fell against the bar where glasses and bottles splashed her with their various nectar. Kain and his allies moved closer.

“Stop!”

Lord Thog slowly rose from his table. He made no aggressive move, not even removing his riding cloak. But, he stood there, a great dark void in the room and it seemed as though he absorbed all sound and air from the tavern. A disapproving force of nature standing in judgement of Kain and his men. The stories of Lord Thog and the terrible things that he’d done were commonplace and even though Kain and his men were savvy war veterans, they paused briefly in fear, before bravado and foolishness forced their hands down to their scabbards. The first two attacked in tandem, one coming in high and from the left while the other slashed at Lord Thog’s leg. Without even drawing his weapon, he avoided both attacks, countered with a palm strike under the chin, turning from the slash at his leg and taking that man by his neck and instantly breaking it.

Now, he turned his attention to Kain.

“You… you stay back!! Do you hear!?” Kain had never seen anyone move so fast, with such devastation! He held his sword defensively, shaking in his grasp as Lord Thog moved in closer. He grasped Kain by his collar and removed his blackened spectacles for a moment. He looked deep into his eyes and Kain found himself unable to look away. Thog continued just staring into his eyes and slowly, Kain’s face changed from fear to outright terror, to sadness to sorrow to despair. By the time Lord Thog released him and replaced his dark glasses, Kain was no longer who he had been when he walked into the Ramshackle Inn that night. He collapsed onto the floor, weeping like a small child as everyone else looked on in disbelief. He had seen, within Thog’s eyes more terror than a human mind should ever see in a hundred lifetimes and was now quite insane. For his part, Lord Thog quietly returned to his table and to drinking enormous quantities of wine.

For the rest of the night, Sienna studied this enigma who seemed to be trying to drink every drop of wine in the establishment. For all her attention, she learned precious little. He said nothing and almost never raised his head to regard anyone. Finally, she drew the courage to approach him in gratitude… “Excuse me, milord…”

“Do you have rooms?” He replied.

“Why yes… I’m certain that Karl would be happy to…”

“I’ll be staying the night. Have someone tend to my horse outside.”

At some point, as Lord Thog lay in a bed of feathers, with nice clean linen, the town of Canasus quieted. What business was still being conducted was of the most discreet nature. The sounds of hoofbeats tramping through the moist clay came less often and should have been a great atmosphere for sleep. Yet, Lord Thog lay there on his bed, drinking yet another bottle of wine. His only hope of sleep anymore, was to become so intoxicated that he could pass out. He sighed between drinks, knowing that alcohol had precious little effect on him anymore. Still, he closed his eyes in a nightly exercise of futility.

He thought about the events from earlier and the brave waitress who he’d saved from ruffians. Her face remained ingrained in his mind, even though they’d never met before. She was young, a mere wisp of a girl with features that were not familiar, yet she clung to his thoughts as though she were a long-lost friend. He hated puzzles and hated even more a puzzle he couldn’t solve. He frowned as he lay back on the bed, allowing the emptied bottle to fall onto the floor. When he became irritated like this, sleep never came. Now, he knew that he’d spend the night in the company of memories. Memories of another pretty girl from a childhood long lost to eternity.

He remembered watching her picking wildflowers beside the lake not far from their village. They’d grown up together, but it wasn’t until now that he appreciated how beautiful she was that day, as they neared the age of adulthood. He sat there in the brush, content to watch her and the graceful movements of her lithe hands. She seemed so delicate to him, as though made of the finest lace fabric. Still too young for any true sexual notions, he was fixated on her with an innocence that he no longer understood, but longed desperately to know again. He did everything to remain quiet, afraid that he might disturb her in some way, for as the sun gleamed through her long, honey brown hair and the water shimmering behind her… surely, no artist had ever captured anything so sublime on any canvass. He silently wished that his moment would never end.

Young Alphonse Thog had already heard the tramping footsteps approaching, but he hoped that would soon turn another direction. He thought that, if he wished hard enough hard enough the angry man approaching would turn away. Better yet, that he too might become transfixed by this portrait of tranquility and know a similar feeling of peace.

No.

All at once, the delicate scene was shattered! Wildflowers flew from her simple basket, as he little face exploded into a bloody mask at the end of a backhanded strike!

“Myrian!” He shouted at her as she sprawled half in and half out of the water! Thog quickly covered his own mouth, as Myrian fell to the soft dirt! Her father, Georges, was red faced with rage which seemed to keep him from hearing Thog or his terrified cry! To his eternal shame, Lord Thog, remained there in the bushes, hiding while Georges man-handled and assaulted his own daughter. He said nothing, and he watched, with tears running down his cheeks, as Myrian’s father took her by the ankle and dragged her, upside down back to their home in the distance.

Thog sighed deeply, before sitting back up on the edge of his bed at the Ramshackle. He angrily knocked a pitcher of water onto the floor, before reaching into his pack for a wine skin. He drank deeply, while sitting on the edge of the bed. He stared blankly into the darkness, sneering at the nearby oil lamp, for it’s useless promise of illumination. Holding the skin between his feet, he looked through the candlelight into a past which never left him. His eyes blinked against the promise of tears which never fell anymore. He flinched both left and right as thoughts assailed him like a physical foe. The thoughts attacked more and more… visions of death and fears of things he could not control. They came at him, like flakes of snow through a driving blizzard, each snowflake was like an arrow, leaving thousands of wounds in his mind and soul! He became angrier by the moment, fighting with denials and explanations whirling through his mind like a hurricane of never ending thoughts and images and each one assaulted his sanity more and more until finally…

“STOP IT!!! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!!!” He grabbed his wine skin, ripping it open with his teeth, before hurtling it against the wall with a resounding thud! He inched back upon the bed as though in retreat and he sat there in the dark, gasping for air, covered in perspiration! He hoped that nobody had overheard him… as he had on that day with Myrian with her father. He was a coward that day and it shamed him even now, more than seven hundred years later.

After a few moments, he calmed down. He heard noises coming from outside his door. A commotion in the hallway which he welcomed with an almost savage grin. This was a battle he could wrap his mind around. Something physical that he could unleash fury upon! Quickly, taking his sword in his right hand, he crossed the floor and kicked open his door! Outside, he saw Sienna, standing in front of two Imperial guards, who seemed to be attempting to force their way into his room. He made a mental note of her courage, before gently pushing her aside to confront them!

“What is this disturbance!?” He demanded.

His voice commanded immediate calm. The guards backed themselves to the stairs, as Sienna turned to Thog to explain. “They say that they have come to meet with you, milord. I told them you were not to be disturbed.”

Thog regarded her with as much kindness as he could summon, for such emotions were never useful to him and as such, he disdained their use. Such emotions only removed his mental armor and left him vulnerable to the insidious enemies within his own mind. He regarded the men, carefully placing his dark glasses over his eyes before speaking. “They’re late.”

At this, the most decorated of the three, a burly man with fire red hair and beard, stepped forward with explanation. “We were attacked along the way here, my lord. We lost three wagons and twelve of my men and…”

Lord Thog held his hand up to stop him. “We’ve lost the day. We will leave in the morning. Have your people ready just after dawn.” Lord Thog turned to go back to his room.

“My lord!” The burly man protested. “We cannot wait! Our enemy is mounting against us! We have to get the Princess back to Essensia as soon as possible!” Even as he spoke, the officer knew he’d made a mistake. Lord Thog turned to regard him, sneering at him for his carelessness. He had now revealed what their precious cargo was and where they were taking it. If, as he suspected, there were enemies near, they knew everything, and his job had just become much more difficult. He looked back in his mind, to another time. A time when he’d have killed everyone in ear shod and burned down the Ramshackle as a distraction for their escape. He was not careless in those days and cared very little for mortals, who were a constant puzzle to him.

His eyes were brought back to Sienna, who had the temerity to defend him, a total stranger, against Imperial guards. He wondered at her, that one act of kindness directed at her, had engendered such loyalty. He wanted to smile at her, to congratulate her, somehow for her strength of character. This, however, was not his way and instead, he turned without speaking and walked back toward his room.

Two of the guards started to laugh, at seeing their commander dismissed in such a way, before catching themselves. The burly leader spoke then. “My lord, you do not know Her Glory… she will never find such accommodations to be adequate. She is a most difficult woman and she’s anxious to leave immediately.”

Lord Thog smiled cruelly. “Then, let her go. I will ride for Essensia in the morning. If she still desires my protection, then she will just have to make an adjustment.” Lord Thog was amused to rebuff the man, who represented much of what Thog came to hate about the military and their blind obedience to men who they couldn’t even vouch for, if asked.

Inside, he returned to the comfort of warm wine and listened to the shouts outside his door. It amused him to aggravate royalty, who he considered, in many ways, the worst of the mortals. Pretending to wield mythic powers, all because they plopped from the right private part. One of the very few things Thog appreciated about his singular station in life, which made him free from such rulers. He served no one and that suited him, as he’d become a solitary creature over his long life. He had accepted this contract, agreed to meet in Canasus and he agreed to take the Princess safely home to Essensia, but his loyalty was to his contract, not to some spoiled Princess. After so many years of blood, death, and war he had a great distaste for the soldier’s lifestyle. Still, he knew that there was no retirement, no rest from the life he was forced to lead. Wherever he went, whatever he did, he would always be the God Slayer, the Un-Killable Lord Thog of the Grey Marshes and there would always be someone to test his vaunted immortality. He’d accepted his lot in life long ago, so he gave this as little thought as possible.

As he laid back down on his bed, he wondered why he insisted upon leaving in the morning, rather than now. After all, he wasn’t going to rest, but something inside him… some quiet voice in his mind told him that the delay was for the best. He’d learned long ago to trust his instincts, and besides he enjoyed defying royalty. So, he drank and remembered happier times.

He walked barefoot through rocky earth. The sun was setting and young Alphonse Thog stopped for a moment in admiration of the brilliant colors in the sky before him. He lamented the loss of an innocence which had once allowed him to become involved in such simple joys as the feeling of the world against his feet. He wished that he could still see beauty as easily as he once did. Now, it was such a rare occurrence. An almost forgotten memory of a man who no longer truly existed.

Perhaps, this was why he helped the maiden earlier? She was not the usual definition of female beauty, although she was a handsome woman. There was something about her, however, that made him feel… almost decent. His mind went back to the sunset and the young boy that he’d once been. He just watched until a sweet soft voice spoke his name. “Alphonse. Where have you been, child?”

A part of him panicked, knowing who it was that stood behind him. He wanted so much to see her, but he knew this wasn’t really her, just a memory. A memory he knew that he would indulge for fear of losing it forever, no matter how it hurt. He turned slowly, an impish smile on his face. “Just playing.”

He tried to see the face of his mother, standing behind him. He could see her dress, white with red apples sewn into the fabric. She wore an apron, which always had a bit of flour on it, from baking bread that she sold at the market. As his gaze went up, however, things became less and less clear. He could see the element of her face, but not her entire face. He saw her mouth and small nose, her brown hair with flecks of grey and most of all, he saw her eyes. Eyes, that she insisted were “nothing special”. Just “plain brown eyes” … Yet, to a young Alphonse her eyes were the portrait of kindness and love. His mother’s eyes were a safe-haven against all the things that scared him at night. They were wise and open and able to see things in her son that he could never see himself. So, Lord Thog chose to focus on her eyes as he remembered his mother.

“Well, it’s getting late. Time to come in now.” She extended her hand, which he was happy to take and together they walked toward their simple home, deep within the Grey Marshes.

“Mom… what happened to my father?” He knew this question bothered her. She never truly answered him, always giving a half-truth before distracting him with cookies or some other treat.

“He went off to war. You know that.” She hoped this answer would be enough.

“Yes but… when will he be coming back?”

She frowned a bit. “I suppose that he will be back once the fighting is over.”

“Myrian’s father went to war too, didn’t he?”

She considered her answer before replying. She knew Myrian’s father and she didn’t like him. In truth, she blamed the wars and fighting. Thog’s mother hated violence, and felt that soldiers were brainwashed into being violent and then, couldn’t stop once the war ended. She didn’t want her son having a low opinion of his father… or, even the illusion of a father that she’d built for him over the years. “That was a different war… a different place, punkin.”

Thog saw his home just up ahead. He hurried the next question, as though knowing his time here with her was ending. “Will my father come back… will he come back mean? Will he be mean like Myrian’s father?”

She stopped and knelt in front of Alphonse. She looked into his little eyes, as was her habit, when speaking seriously. “Your father is not Myrian’s father, Alphonse. They are two different types of men, do you understand? He is nothing like Myrian’s father.”

A loud pounding upon his door in the Ramshackle woke Lord Thog just before dawn. He sat on the edge of the bed and was angry. He had found sleep that night, only to be rudely awakened by whoever was on the other side.

“If only they knew how hard it was for me to sleep,” he thought. He rose quickly, storming across the room!! He opened the door, angry and self-righteous in his outrage… until he saw that it was Sienna at the door.

“Milord… the Princess and her men are very angry! They have been waiting for you more than an hour! They insisted on waking you, so I…” Quickly, Thog covered his eyes with his dark glasses and looked out through the window. The rains had stopped falling and the sun was closer to noon than dawn. He regarded Sienna with what kindness he could muster, considering his true mood.

“I’ll be down momentarily.” He reached into his purse for money, which was quickly refused.

“I’m no longer employed at the Ramshackle, milord.” She smiled. “I have been taken on as a lady in waiting by her grace, the princess.” She was obviously very proud, even if this employment was totally by chance. While Thog understood her happiness at this change in her life, he was not glad about her coming along. After all, the journey was going to be a dangerous one and he didn’t want to see any harm befall her. He wondered to himself why that was so, after all, he’d just met her, and Sienna wasn’t any different from a hundred young serving wenches that he’d encountered.

Then, he shrugged and recalled the dangers she already dealt with at the Ramshackle and withheld any protest. He supposed that the journey wasn’t any worse than dealing with oafs like Kain and his men the night before. He learned long ago that it was better not to involve himself too directly in the lives of mortal men. Mortals were complicated with their vague desires and skewed viewpoint. They lived every day in fear of the inevitable and a lust for the immediate. Thog felt it best to remain aloof and disinterested in their affairs, for their lives were like the blink of an eye to one who can’t die. There were precious few things that Thog couldn’t simply wait through and it gave him a totally different perspective from mortals.

Instead, he dressed and packed and found himself standing outside the Ramshackle before a grand carriage. The carriage white with ivory accents, drawn by two jet black steeds, which gave the appearance of extravagance. The carriage was flanked by only four men at arms. Each was on horseback and at least one of them seemed badly wounded. The carriage itself had also been damaged in the attack briefly described to him last night. There were arrow marks and even a couple punctures, through the window slats. The Princess, he assumed remained inside as Sienna saw to her belongings and sat beside the driver.

The carriage door swung open violently then, and in the doorway stood a woman of truly spectacular beauty. She was tall with a perfect figure that was accentuated by a tight fitting white gown, that was totally out of place, considering the poverty all around her. She was jeweled from head to foot with pearls and diamonds and her hair had been intricately braided atop her head, surrounding a delicate silver crown atop her head. She stepped down, not minding the mud that infected the white perfection of her gown, and she approached Lord Thog was anger etched in her deep blue eyes. She marched directly to him, oblivious to his fearsome reputation and she pointed her finger into his breast plate.

“How dare you place me in the precarious position of having to sleep inside my carriage!?”

Thog tried to speak, but was cut off by the Princess.

“I am the Princess Ementra of Essensia, you fool! I am more important than your drunken slumber! I demand that you…” She trailed off as Lord Thog turned away from her without a word. He walked to his horse and climbed into the saddle. “What do you think you’re doing!? How dare you?”

“Your grace, I am too old to deal with a spoiled princess. I have a job to do.”

“Get down off that horse! How dare you!? Do you know who I am?” She shouted and was red faced with hysteria.

Thog smirked and looked down at the princess with her fists knotted at her sides. “Yes, your grace, I know exactly who you are. Now, so does everyone else within earshot.”

She looked about nervously and then quickly retreated into her carriage and Thog laughed to himself.

“My Lord Thog, are you ready to make way?” Asked a burly fellow with a great red beard. His face was worn by sun and storm and his expression was not pleasant. He was annoyed by Thog’s rather lax timetable and he was not afraid to show it. Lord Thog grinned at this and nodded, recognizing the difference between a soldier’s need to keep a quick pace to follow orders and a spoiled girl, who felt insulted not to be in charge.

Lord Thog rode ahead and stayed to himself, as the four men at arms stayed around the carriage and the petulant Princess remained hidden within along with the barmaid she’d acquired from Canasus. Thog mused on her good fortune, being swept from a seedy place like the Ramshackle to serving the princess. Such things were only dreamt of by the poor, never something that actually took place. He felt glad for her, as he admired her in some way that he couldn’t quite place.

As night approached, the burly officer with the red beard rode next to Lord Thog. “Shall we make camp soon, my lord?”

Lord Thog sighed and shook his head. He found conversation tedious, at best and saw no reason to explain himself. The officer said nothing and for long moments, this answer seemed to suffice, which gave Thog great satisfaction. After all, how could any of these mortals understand someone like him? How could any of them even begin to comprehend his experience and his life? He had fought in the fabled War between Gods… something that these men speak of only in whispers. At length however, he sighed seeing the man was not going away. He dutifully remained quiet, but just he presence showed that he was not happy with the order.

“Up ahead, there are some caves.” He spoke as though the soldier was a child. “These caves are known to me and they’re safe. We’ll stop once we get there.” The burly man nodded and seemed unbothered by Lord Thog’s condescending attitude toward him.

“My name is D’Jonn… Captain D’Jonn, my lord. I have served King Laopold of Essensia since I was just a spry little cuss.”

Lord Thog gave no indication of interest in this, which annoyed D’jonn. He was embarrassed to admit to himself that he wanted to impress this fabled warrior with his position and rank. He told himself that this would have been true of any new commander, but deep down, he knew that he’d been seduced by the legend of this man. He cleared his throat, determined to make a better impression. “Last night, we were ambushed. We couldn’t see who it was. They came at us from the trees.”

“You couldn’t identify them by the bodies?”

“There were no bodies, my lord.” Lord Thog stopped his horse abruptly. He stared at D’Jonn through his spectacles. He was wondering whether he was simply incompetent, or was in collusion with those who’d ambushed them.

“You lost half your men and barely escaped with the life of your Princess, and you didn’t kill any of them?”

“With all due respect, my lord… These attackers were unlike anything I have ever seen before! They were quick and silent… like animals! They moved like one! They didn’t speak or make sounds beyond grunts and guttural sounds. Before I had even turned my horse, seven of my best men were dead in the muck! Many of them were torn limb from limb! It took all my training and experience just to get out of there with the Princess! She was, after all, my priority.”

Lord Thog merely nodded. More an indication of him not really caring, than any sort of belief or sympathy for D’Jonn’s story. He spurred his horse ahead and soon, he came upon the cave he was looking for. He dismounted and entered the cave without waiting for the rest to catch him. If there was an animal, or someone else using this cave for camp, Thog wanted to deal with the situation first.

Thog had used this spot before and once inside, there was evidence of his last camp. Skins were piled in one corner, and a supply of firewood had already been cut. There was only one entrance and it narrowed so that, if attacked, they could pigeon hole them into a single file, making this a very defensible position. The carriage pulled up to the mouth of the cave, after which, D’Jonn and his men wasted no time in getting a fire lit and making camp.

As they went about making camp and seeing to the many needs of the Princess that Thog didn’t care to even look upon, he stood silent watch at the cave mouth. He wondered at these mortals and the urgency with which they attacked life. He had grown an entirely different perspective on such things and in truth, he’d learned that there was very little worth such anxiety… at least not in the present tense. Life was difficult enough, without being so entranced with the immediate, that it made their lives move far too quickly. He watched them, moving like ants to service their princess, and this is how he had generally come to think of mortals, as insects scurrying about and wreaking havoc on their lives in order to satiate the immediate and never thinking past tomorrow.

He smiled bitterly to himself as thoughts assailed him. Memories of a time when he was one of these ants, running about to and for with no notion where he was going. A time when he first joined the militia in the Grey Marshes… A day where the sun made him red faced as he practiced using a sword. He remembered how clumsy he was back then, hacking away at a long dead tree until an angry voice shouted his name.

“Alphonse Thog!! What are you doing?” Myrian stood there, hands on her hips, which always indicated that she was angry. She marched up to him, as he stood there in armor which was far too big for him, trying desperately to sheath his sword without looking too awkward in front of her.

“I’m practicing.” He replied defensively and even though he was slightly older, he was clearly chastened by her almost motherly approach.

She poked his chest. “Trees have declared war with the Grey Marshes, eh? What are they going to do? Hurl acorns at us?”

Her combination of anger and sarcasm was lost on him then. He looked at the tree and back at Myrian in confusion. “What?”

“Thog, you oaf! This tree is special!” She walked around to the other side of the great elm, where a swing hung from a long branch. She took a seat there and Thog smiled. He moved in behind her and gently pushed her. They said nothing for quite a while, she swung happily, and the setting sun bathed them in a warm purple until finally Myrian felt compelled to ask, “why join the militia?”

Thog was taken aback by this. To him, joining the military was logical, expected even. It was what he knew he’d become one day. He’d long dreamed of being a part of some heroic campaign, where he helped his people triumph over whatever evil threatened them. He saw himself as heroic and yet, Myrian questioned this.

“The militia offers honor. The chance to become something.” Thog stammered.

Myrian said nothing, thinking about what Thog had said, and finally she replied, “become what?”

Now, it was Thog’s turn to become silent. He hadn’t ever asked himself this question. The answer seemed evident a moment ago. Yet, as he stopped the swing and looked into her eyes, he was dumbfounded for an answer. Her eyes were so deep, as though they had absolutely no ending to them, he though. He dared to caress her cheek and while Myrian demurred slightly, it was clear that he’d committed no offense in her mind. She moved a long strand of hair from his eyes, so that she could truly see him. Thog didn’t know what she saw when she looked at his face, but she was happy in his company. In that simple moment, they knew a complete feeling and as their lips touched, Thog knew what he wanted to become.

He wanted to be hers.

“I could be someone who protects those I love.” He said softly.

She smiled and nodded. “Like your mother?” She regretted saying this even before the words came from her mouth, but Thog didn’t get angry at her. He could never be angry with Myrian.

“Like you. I love you, Myrian. I always will. One day, I’m going to marry you and you will be my queen.”

“Milord?” Thog heard the voice which penetrated his memory, but he hated having to reply to it. He saw Sienna, standing there, looking at him quizzically. He saw her and became a bit disoriented for a moment, unable to differentiate between memory and fact. Her eyes were as Myrian’s had been that day. The look within them and the emotion of her concern for him.

He quickly hardened, determined to kill such useless remnants from the past. “What is it?”

If she noticed the sudden change in demeanor, Sienna didn’t show it. “The Princess would like to see you, milord.”

Of course, this drew his eyes toward the gilded carriage, which stood silent just outside the cave, with the door yawning an invitation to him. Lord Thog had seen many things in his long life, including royalty, but the tales of this Princess and her incredible beauty had sparked curiosity even in him. He followed Sienna into the carriage, where the Princess awaited him.

Princess Ementra Diacledes Vontaria of the House Vontaria sat amid treasures, furs, and baubles that were enough to buy an army, if there was one available to her just then. Her gown alone was enough to have invited the attack mentioned by D’Jonn earlier. Red with satin and sequined in precious jewels with a matching the tiara on her head. He entered her presence and took in her beauty. Her cheekbones were a family marker and her blue eyes made her a famed beauty, but there was something off putting to him. As though she knew her beautiful she was and enjoyed using it as a weapon against everyone that she considered beneath her. Thog said nothing as he entered and stood before her as she sat in a white chair with white satin upholstery.

“You do not bow, my lord?” Her expression was more surprise than insulted. “I had expected better manners from a man of your reputation, my lord.”

“Would bowing help my mission, Your grace? If so, I should bend the knee willingly.” He replied simply. “My loyalty is shown by my actions in your defense, Madame.”

She was young, not quite twenty, but she had the grace to know when to argue a point and when not to, or she didn’t care enough about Lord Thog to get angry again. She indicated for him to sit in a chair identical to hers, just across from her. “You are the legendary Lord Thog of the Grey Marshes, eh?”

He nodded and sat down without speaking.

She seemed unbothered. “I am told that you are thousands of years old and that you have defeated entire armies all by yourself, my lord.”

He sighed. “Exaggeration is a common practice in Essensia, Your grace. I assure you that there are more tales of my brave deeds, then there are actual brave deeds.

“My lord, considering your price, I am hoping that the deeds outweigh the stories.”

He smirked, quickly growing tired of this verbal chess match. She was less than a child to him and only her crown and riches spared her Thog’s wrath. He didn’t care to have his intellect tested by someone whose entire life was filled with nothing but frivolities. “If I fail to return you safely to Essensia,

I will happily refund the gold, Your grace.”

She frowned at this, not appreciating the fact that Lord Thog had so little respect for her. She felt as though he regarded her as simply cargo, when in fact, she was heir to the throne of the Ivory City. “My father has paid for my safe return home. He has paid you to succeed where others would surely fail, my lord. My father has paid for the legend, Lord Thog… the man who killed a God and nothing less.” Of all his many titles and nicknames of all the things he was called over the decades, God slayer was the one which followed him the closest. The name that haunted and at length, defined him. His mood darkened even further, but he maintained a respectful quiet.

“Tell me, my lord, of the battle against a Lord Armius and how you ultimately destroyed him. What was it like to destroy a god? To have his immortality flow into you?” Her eyes became excited, as though looking at a delicious dessert. Thog’s reaction was quite different, of course. Visions assailed him, like insects swarming at his eyes. He mentally winced and dodged these thoughts that were constantly on the edge of his consciousness. He glared at her through his dark spectacles and a small snarl appeared on his upper lip.

“Am I a protector… or a bard, Your grace? I am not here to regale you with tales of daring, just to save you from boredom! I will get you home safely, your grace and that will be the end of our contract.”

She could see that she’d offended him, which was her original intention, she knew. Yet, she was afraid now that he was obviously angry. In spite of her station, she knew that he life depended on the generosity of Lord Thog, because whoever or whatever had attacked her convoy was obviously something her men couldn’t deal with alone. “My lord, forgive me. I simply…”

“Is it my sword or my song that you seek? Because, the only songs I know are about death and blood! The tales I tell are of rage and woe! Shall I recount for you, tales with such ugliness? A creature of such outward beauty as yourself should not be tainted by rubbing too closely with the likes of me, Your grace.” His hand reached toward his dark glasses.

Sienna quickly stepped forward, taking her lady by the hand. Sienna had not known Lord Thog long, but she knew that the Princess needed her, and she did not fail her lady. Sienna stood between them, facing Princess Ementra and she spoke very softly. “Milady should get her rest, I think. There is a long journey ahead.”

The Princess was still flustered, having never been addressed as Thog had. She nodded, before dramatically feigning illness and waving her hand for Lord Thog to be dismissed. Lord Thog regarded Sienna with a certain appreciation for her quick thinking and the way she gently calmed a tense situation.

During the next two days of their trip, the Princess remained, for the most part, in her carriage hidden away from the mysterious Lord Thog, who had offended her. She knew that she needed him and, so she removed him for her sight. This made Sienna indispensable to her, as the princess relied on her to relay messages, bring her food and water, etc. Lord Thog noticed Sienna, busily running errands without complaint.

Every evening, as they made camp, Sienna studied Lord Thog from an ever-shortening distance. She was fascinated by him, even though he was so cold and even a little frightening to her. She watched him as he’d often stare into nothingness and she’d wonder what he thought of when he became so distant. His expressions would occasionally change from emotionless to rage and then… a deep sadness would become etched on his face. The sadness is what drew her to him as she seemed to be able to feel his angst. He seemed so filled with a pain that his long life had never taught him to deal with. She had always imagined that living forever would be wonderful, but she was starting to reconsider that thinking, because this Lord Thog seemed perpetually miserable. She watched him standing by the fire one night. He stared into the flames and his expression was almost child-like, she thought. He seemed like a lost little boy, who’d been left somewhere… alone and afraid. She watched him flinch and turn his head occasionally, as though dodging memories as he’d dodge strikes from a sword. She was so tempted to go to him… to offer comfort through this pain, but before she could take a step, it was over, and he’d become Lord Thog again. The cold, emotionless warrior who sought solitude and was ill at ease with the company of a girl foolish enough to look for anything else from him. She didn’t understand why… but, she wept gently and retired for the night.

It began to snow that morning and by late afternoon the ground was covered in a blanket of white. They trudged through the snow and the mud all day, moving slowly, as the carriage had been built for looks rather than functionality. Thog knew there was no place to make a safe camp in this weather as the storm made them an easy target for ambush. By evening, the snow had become a deadly blizzard and visibility was only a few feet. Lord Thog rode ahead, scouting for some shelter, eventually finding a small farm. He knew this was where they would have to rest and wait out the storm.

Thog checked around for people… pounding on every door without an answer. He saw the men, now under his command, freezing and impatient and he knew there was no longer time to be polite. Lord Thog kicked in the front door of the farm house as winds whistled through their ears and a bitter cold bit at their faces.

“We’ll wait out the storm here!” Thog said to D’Jonn who readily agreed. He and his men were efficient with unpacking and soon everyone was inside and looking for candles. As the men looked for people and started lighting the house, Sienna took the Princess, wrapped in pelts, into the bedroom and closed the door. Lord Thog stood near the door, peering through a crack as though he’d seen something. Eventually, D’Jonn noticed, but said nothing at first, busying himself with getting fires lit and securing windows that hadn’t been bolted against this weather. He found this very strange as the pantry was well stocked with food and the house was very clean. When he was finished, he approached Lord Thog who remained peeking through a crack in the doorway. “The house is secured, my lord.”

Thog nodded and kept looking.

“Do you see the people who live here? Are they…”

Thog interrupted with a whisper, “someone is in the barn.” Thog moved slightly, allowing D’Jonn to see. He saw through the blizzard through a window or opening near the back of the barn. Clearly, there was movement, but it was impossible to see what it was.

“Perhaps it’s an animal? A cow or horse?”

Lord Thog frowned, but said nothing while taking yet another look. He doubted that it wasn’t an animal, because he could see that it walked on two legs. He knew that he would have to go out into the blizzard and deal with it, but kept hoping to see some evidence that might relieve him of this obligation.

After a few more moments of looking he knew there was no choice, not when his cargo was as sought after as the princess was.

He sighed. “Stay here. Don’t follow after me.”

D’Jonn bristled. “My lord, it’s my duty to keep the Princess safe! I shall come with you and…”

Lord Thog turned and gave as much of a smile as he was able, respecting D’Jonn’s dutiful nature. “Do as I say. If I don’t return in twenty minutes, secure al the doors and windows with as much heavy furniture as you can find and leave the moment the storm breaks. Do you understand?”

“My lord, this is…”

“D’Jonn, if I can’t deal with whatever is in that barn, I need you here. Do you understand, soldier?” D’Jonn sighed angrily but nodded his consent. Lord Thog wrapped himself tightly in his leather riding cloak and covered his head with his hood, keeping one hand upon his sword. Then, he bolted out into the elements.

He moved slowly against the driving wind and snow. His vision was obstructed by heavy flakes, but soon enough, he found the barn door, lying straight ahead of him and blowing in the wind. The door opened and slammed shut over and over in the angry winds. He stopped for a moment at this… there was something about that door moving at the whim of the storm… His life was so long, that his memories were sometimes difficult to sift through and he found this maddening. Still, something caused him to indulge this thought… of a barn door in another time and another climate.

The sun was just setting after a hot and humid day in the Grey Marshes. Thog was hurrying home from a day of fishing and a day he had been supposed to go to school. He remembered being so panicked that his mother would be angry at him, but he felt that school was a cruel punishment, when the sun was bright, and the fish were biting. He was so relieved when he entered his home and saw that she wasn’t there. He grinned, supposing that she’d taken an extra-long at the market.

He sat and ate some fruit and noticed that the hour was getting very late and then, he noticed the sound outside. The sound of the barn door slamming in the breeze outside. Almost against his will, as though he were a puppet of some kind, he rose and walked out into the warm evening air. He saw the barn door slamming again and again in front of him and he felt a horror creeping up from within him. A terror he hadn’t quite felt again… until it flooded back into his mind now.

His hand was shaking as he reached for the door and he mentally scolded himself for showing such weakness. He was the son of a great warrior and he would soon join him upon joining the militia, it was disgraceful to be afraid, he thought. He gnashed his teeth and unsheathed his short sword, which was, in truth, more of a long dagger, and it filled him with a new strength that steadied his hand and calmed his fear.

The child of memory banished, the man of legend stepped through deepening snow and pulled the door open, only to be greeted by the smell of death. Something he had become all too familiar with over his long life. He could guess, even in total darkness that the smell was a mixture of different animal flesh which had been festering for days, but there was also the stench of flesh that was far more recently killed.

He moved as silently as possible, while mentally cursing the farmer who left dry hay everywhere, hat crackled and crunched with every step. Eventually, he stumbled across several large dead animals, three sheep two cows and a horse… all lined up with most of their meat eaten right off of the bone. It looked similar to the victims of the wild wolves in the Mountains of Ilmoira, he thought. Those wolves were taken as puppies and trained to love flesh, but these were killed by something much larger, with teeth that Thog scarcely even imagine. Thog kept pressing forward through the entrails and hay and then, he saw what he was looking for and it stunned him to the core of his being.

The shock sent his mind reeling back to that day as he entered his mother’s barn.

He stood there, looking down at what had been unthinkable to him at that tender age. He saw his mother lying amongst the pigs. She had been killed, stabbed and slashed by longswords… he clothes had been ripped away from her body and she lay there, dead and defiled. The pigs found her sometime after death and began feeding on her wounds most of the day by the look.

Thog was furious and he attacked the sows, trying to beat them off his mother! He screamed and shouted terrible threats at them! He kicked and hit and did everything he could until he remembered that in his house, above the mantle, hung his father’s sword! He ran as fast as he could, retrieving the blade, which seemed to fit his hand perfectly now. He ran back to the barn and clumsily slaughtered all pigs surrounding his mother. He ripped and slashed at everything still living inside, until there was nothing left but him and his pain.

He was not a teenaged boy any longer. This time, he didn’t panic, and he was not overcome by anger or fear. Now, he didn’t fall into a clumsy, blind rage. Now, Lord Thog was a killer, trained by war itself for a dozen lifetimes. He was calm and quiet as he approached the oddly shaped creature. He saw it huddled over what must have once been a man, perhaps the farmer himself. Its flesh was bloated and yellowing, covered in cysts and scars with tiny hairs appearing in thin patches appearing randomly.

Thog struck quickly and viciously, driving his sword deep into the creatures back! A greenish, viscous liquid shot from the wound and up Thog’s arm! The creature flailed angrily and knocked Thog clear back near the doorway, where he collided with the wall, shaking the entire structure!

“What manner of being is this?” Thog thought to himself as the creature faced him, sword still embedded in its back! Its face was horrid, yellow with reddish warts on the large nose. Its mouth was a gaping maw, filled with row upon row of sharp, pointed teeth! Worst of all, it’s eyes were red and piercing, with and insane hatred reflected and etched in each pupil! It roared, sounding like a wounded walrus crying out in agony as it rushed toward Thog, who lay stunned near the door! Desperately, Thog rolled aside, just before the monster crashed into the wall, breaking through and falling out into the snow! The sword had become dislodged in the impact and Thog picked it up quickly as he watched the creature run and disappear out into the winter night.