Pallor of Life

The metallic song of axe and sword haunted the valley; its cadence was fast and the two fighters danced into a frenzy of thrusts, slashes and swipes.  Axe blazing through the air, a paladin dominated the shadows that had begun to stretch across the valley while the undead warrior struggled to fight back.  He brought the axe over his head and pulled it hard down onto the head of the undead warrior.  The warrior countered, bringing up his sword to block the attack and the paladin pinned his sword against his shoulder.  The undead warrior stared into the paladin’s cold blue eyes through empty sockets and knew that his life, as it was, would come to an end shortly.

The paladin kicked the undead, sending him sprawling backwards and he lost his grip on his sword.  The skeletal frame pushed back, dragging himself through the grime and mud on his back.  His empty sockets stared at the paladin, an unholy smile upon his skull.  “This will never end.  We are strong and there is always someone willing to bring us back to fulfill the bloodlust we died serving.  The taste will always draw us back and you will never win out.”

The bright axe fell swiftly, severing the head from the body.  A black mist rose from the skeletal body and swirled through the air.  As the paladin watched the departing spirit, he put his axe away and sighed deeply.  Turning slowly, he made his way towards the road that brought him to the valley in the first place, chasing the undead warrior. 

Back on the road, again.  This never ending rabbit trail is tiresome.  How many more days, how many more weeks shall this life be thus and not mine.  Undead warriors, undead paladins, defectors of my own order.  Greed…lust of power.  It is a bane.  A bane to everything.

He continued to walk on, passing by swaths of wildflowers and blooming trees.  Singing birds flew through the air, cheerfully displaying their colors to attract the females waiting in the trees.  All this, wonder and beauty was lost on the wandering man.  As he passed by people, he noticed them not, as his mind was already set on the time at hand.  He trudged on, not responding to the waves and smiles of children, merely following the sense that would take him to the next infestation.

Why must we continue on our road, calling upon the things that which we do not fully understand, only to use it against one another.  Death…darkness…pain…pathetic existences them all.  Grasping for power that should never have been brought to light.  Hahaha, bringing darkness to light.  How appropriate.  How appropriate, indeed.

The setting sun glared over the horizon, causing him to shade his eyes as he marched onward.  All he could see was his feet, not that he cared.  They were merely taking him onward towards the goal at hand.  The back of his neck itched, meaning he was getting close.  Peering up and squinting against the glare of the setting sun, the paladin saw his destination.

Of course.  Just the place I want to be.  The domed roof, the telltale signs of icons.  Let’s see, this one has blue and gold stained windows with a picture of a dove.  Must be the shrine to Anurali, goddess of chance and luck.  Why don’t people see that no matter of shrine or altar will fix this place.  If we can’t be enough to save ourselves then why would anyone else care enough to help?  No, this is all there is to life and it sucks.  Immensely. 

A roar snapped him out of his reverie and he looked up in time to see two undead soldiers attacking him.  The paladin dove out of the way, rolling a few feet before returning to his feet and pulling his axe from his back.  One swing from his axe stopped both weapons wielded by the undead in midair.  He locked both of them under the curvature of the blades and spun the axe handle in his hands, unarming the undead quickly.  The swords flew through the air landing several feet from the reach of the two rotting undead.

They screamed in anger and lunged at the paladin standing before them.  Turning his axe over in his hands, he spun it rapidly and deflected their feeble blows, dismantling the skeletal frames as they attacked.  Once the undead were taken care of and the mist rose and swirled towards the clouds, the paladin marched on up the path to the remainder of the fight.  He could here the calls of the undead to each other as well as very feminine voice.

He stopped in his tracks.  A woman?  What would a woman be doing here in this place?  Why would she have herself surrounded by such creatures as these?  Has the world gone mad?

Just you, lord of light.

But impossible things are afoot.  Undead around a shrine.  A woman’s voice, unadulterated among the cries of an undead army.  That is madness.

No, the madness is all yours.  You hate this life yet you pursue it.  You waste away under the chaffing weight of hopelessness, yet you fight for what?  Glory, honor, fame?

I fight because I must.

You fight because you do not have anything else worth doing in your life.  I should know, I am you.  I am the you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You cannot be me.  You can’t.  I must fight.  Someone must fight.

Fight What!  Mankind’s inability to know his limitations?  Fight Mankind’s unending thirst and lust for power?  You know that nothing will change them.  Not you, not me, not anyone else in the world.  No one will want to change.

You lie!  If you were me, you would not think thusly.

I AM YOU!  I am more you than you want to acknowledge.  You are useless.  You rekill and rekill the undead, but it doesn’t stop.  You slay conjurers of darkness and death, but there is always someone to take their place.  You will not win.  EVER.

“I will WIN!” the Paladin screamed into the night air.  Silence followed his statement and his entire body felt the pulse of darkness around him.  They came at every angle; from the side, dead ahead, from the back and from above.  Rusted and aged swords, daggers and even a few axes swung at every inch of his body.  A skeletal pair of rogues sulked around a corner while an axe warrior came at him in full force, axe above his head. 

The paladin inhaled deeply and met the axe warrior headlong, a resounding clang echoed over the hills of the shrine’s lands.  The undead warrior pulled back and swung his axe down up on the paladin, intent on cleaving his skull in twain.  The paladin answered with his own sidelong swipe and the handle splintered sending the blade into a trio of swordsmen.  Axe connected to spine and the undead axe warrior lay broken at the paladin’s feet.  The rogues leapt from the trees, smashing bony elbows into the paladin’s neck causing him to fall to his knees and sent his axe skittering through the dead leaves.  One rogue slashed the paladin’s side where the faded armor was jointed with a jagged, worn dagger and he cried out in pain.  He felt the blood flow, staining the hand-sewn shirt beneath. 

As the second rogue kicked at his face, the paladin fell face first to the ground avoiding the white, dirty foot.  He reached out for his axe, fingers straining to reach it.  An undead warrior smashed a foot down on his outstretched arm and the pain reverberated through his body.  Ignoring the pain, the paladin pulled his arm out from under the warrior and sent the undead sprawling.  He ran for his axe and retreated into the shrine to regroup.

Useless maneuver, lord of light.  They can still get in here.  Just give up.  You already have in your heart, just succumb to your mind and be done with it.

No, I cannot.  There is still so much to do, to fight, to beat.

You are the only one fighting.  You are defeated and it is a defeat at your own hands.

NO! 

Listen to yourself, useless warrior of good.  You are but one man in a world where no one cares anymore.  It is futile, man, futile.  Your madness does nothing but prolong the inevitable.

No.

Your madness is proof.  You were saying on your way here that you are tire;  that the world does not care anymore.  You were ready to throw down your axe before arriving here.  Why haven’t you?  You know that you are worthless to this world.  It...isn’t...worth…it…anymore…

no

Goodness has left the world, man.  It is long gone and given way to corruption, hate, greed and death.  Let the dead live with the dead and let go.

…

The undead poured into the shrine and the paladin looked up into the visage of Anurali.  She looked down at him in sadness and he swore he saw tears in her eyes.  The undead swarmed over him, beating him with their clubs, ripping into him with their weapons.  And he laid there, wondering where the good had gone.

The woman’s voice could be heard over the din of the commotion.  The undead parted and she walked up to the paladin, broken and laying on the altar of Anurali.  She smiled and looked him over.  The paladin looked into her eyes and the last part of him, his heart, broke under the weight of the stare.

“Laurent, my love, what a shame.”

Darkness swirled and he breathed one last time as she touched his skin.