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Blighted Paladin

 

This short story was created by Flora.

 

 

    Twice did the bell sound in the quaint town square as the wails of those wrought with Skeiji’s curse had been bound to the very walls they built, forever intertwining with stone. Not until war traverses the land, laying the wall to oblivion by the gods themselves, will the souls be brought to justice. 

 

    The king! The king of old has returned to us once again, my lad!” a gangly man with matted grey speckled hair hollered breathily, holding what looked to be a torn newspaper in his frostbite-ridden hand. “He’s real, my boy! Real I tell you!” I nod solemnly at his remarks, keeping my eyes perched on the ajar door behind him. His steps faltered, and his eyes narrowed at me in discontent. “Have you no soul, lad? The king of Crestuliga has come to lead us into battle once again!” He said, his eyes glazing over with admiration. “Oh, how I’ve been waiting upon this day. Come, lad, we must be off to the gallows!” His icy fingers grasped mine, pulling me away from the warm solace of the mansion. I hadn’t thought to pull back, to take matters into my own hands, and I regret that to this very day. 

 

    Where are the gallows, sir?” I asked, hesitant, expecting a reply. Not a breath came from the man dragging me from my comfort. I cleared my throat and tried again. Nothing. Finally, as if waking for the first time, he shivered, rasping in an incoherent tongue. 

 

    “Sllas de junas pueffka wataraint.”  

 

    “Come again?” I say, not sure I heard him correctly. His steps quickened, and his grip on my wrist grew stronger still. Peculiar for a man of his age, but I said nothing. I told myself that my lack of communication was due to owing this man my life, however I see now that I had been, plainly, scared. We waded through the marsh filled streets of Diad, not once slowing our pace to the gallows; not a soul was out and about at this hour of the day. Who goes out in the middle of the day anymore? It hadn’t been right since the Crestuligian forces had told us to do otherwise. Only the bustling cities had no true changes in population during the day; hardly any other place in the world –besides the wicked Logiscs—had opposing day and night cycles.  

 

    I stumbled in the terribly slippery marsh, luckily finding my grounding before the tug of the old man could topple me from my lean form. I considered calling out to him for a rest, but his trance hadn’t yet been realized, and I couldn’t break the spell of his newfound passion; the man hadn’t been able to feel or reconnect with humanity after what had happened, and his joy influenced me more than what I thought possible at the time. I ceded, allowing him his surge of animation. It wouldn’t do me any good, anyhow; the man was much too strong, silently hauling me into the deep, murky waters. 

 

  

 

  “Samuel K. Kruci. What an honor for you, of all people, to join us on this fateful day.” A voice boomed from atop the guillotine’s wooden platform. A shriek clawed from behind the figure, and a woman had been kneeled to the guillotine’s base, an inch away from death. Her light auburn hair swayed, glimmering in the light as she struggled to break free from her imminent public execution. The crowd parted, and I realized with a chill that the figure had called out to the man dragging me here; I hadn’t known his name when he took me in.  

 

    “I thought you told me you didn’t remember your name!” I whispered urgently as he trudged ahead, his hand still clamped to mine. He grunted a response I couldn’t understand, rasping at me with what seemed to be either exasperation or lunacy.  

 

    “It’s useless,” an airy voice said from behind me, tugging my sleeve. I swiveled my head to the remark. A pale woman in a flower crown tilted her head with a frown. “I was brought here by my grandmother.” The woman said, wrapping a silver-ringed finger around a part of her striking seafoam-colored hair, smiling at me. “Nothing will change,” she then whispered as I was swept away by Mr. Kruci, her green hair disappearing into the crowd.