muhahaha! old story!
Reading through old stories to find Suibhne's Fae's name, I came across this one and because it makes me want to write again after KG, I'm posting it to remind myself! Really one of my favorites!
hmm, can I remember how to cut?
Holy Warrior
This is actually a rewrite of Holy warrior with a totally different ending. THis ending came to me and I'm really not going anywhere with the other story so I figured, why not? The answer to that is actually - because you have many many other stories you should actually putting some work into you silly git. Quit writing random bits for 6 billion things. Oh, that's why not! Too bad - I was awake when I should have been asleep, so it's like time that doesn't count.
A bit shifty on the writing, but I like it.
Walking towards the warlord was the hardest thing she had ever done. The pain was nearly unbearable, pain of exhaustion, pain of hundreds of tiny sword cuts, pain of the blisters on her feet inside her impossibly heavy boots. Her hands hurt the most. The blisters on her palm had long since opened and become wounds, and it felt like most of the tiny slices were on her fingers. All of this was nothing to the pain of walking through the remainder of her people that silently watched her approach the warlord. So few left, and most of them wounded.
They had come to this fight because there was no other way. The warlord would destroy this country and enslave them, enslave their children. How could they do anything but fight? And so many had come; so many who had never fought before. Had they thought they could win? It hadn’t mattered. The warlord left them no way out, no surrender would grant them mercy, no treaty would make a difference.
And these were her people watching her. When she had bound herself to the service of the Sword and to God, it was these people she had sworn to protect. Their lives, their freedom, their happiness. The prayer that was tattooed on her neck held the spirit of that oath, that path. So many times she had felt it’s warmth as another line of the prayer was revealed to her. The meaning of the prayer was long since lost to mortal minds, but at times when things seemed without hope, the tattoo would give up another of it’s secrets; aiding her where no one else could. Now would be a perfect time for such guidance, but there was no warmth to be had.
As she finally reached the place where the warlord waited for her, she was annoyed and disturbed at how … human he looked. He looked striking - his hair a strange silver grey with his face still that of a young man. But his eyes destroyed the illusion. Black as a hole in a man’s heart, they had no whites showing, and no mercy. She still had her sword and it burned her not to even try to swing it at him. Nothing had ever been more tempting, to try to kill him, to wound him some small amount. And then to die without having to face this defeat, the loss of her people. It was a strangely peaceful thought, but unworthy of the vows she had sworn.
He stared at her and she wondered if she should speak first. He had called the parley and his was the army that would obviously win. He could not be waiting for her to beg - though she would if it would do her people any small amount of good.
But he did speak, and his voice carried farther than any mortal’s voice should. “You are the servant of your God. You are the Sword of your people. You are, in fact, their only hope.” He paused and she wondered if she should nod at that. The exhaustion was weighing so heavily on her, she could barely stand - much less think clearly. “I am the GodBlade, yes.”
“And you have had no life save being the Sword of your God, nothing other than that training and those oaths have ruled your life. No family, no other duties, nothing but that?”
“Yes.” Though her voice came out hoarse and tired, she could sense that all could hear her.
“I am here to offer you what has never been offered by any of my kind. Mercy.” He looked at her intently, judging what, she did not know. She was so tired, but still she sensed a trap.
“What are your terms?” What could they be? They could not defeat him - what could he possibly gain from them that he could not just take?
“In return for these people’s lives and souls, I would have the Sword of God Kneel to me and swear to serve me absolutely.”
“Hah!” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“ It is a prize no other of my kind has claimed, and perhaps you will refuse. But understand me, this battle that you have come to, was not of your devising. These plans to attack me here, on this field, were no mystery to me. Rituals were laid before ever you arrived here with this ‘army’. Even those that have already fallen in this battle are not safe - their souls lie within the boundaries of my ritual. If you refuse me, I will take them all.”
It actually took a few moments for her exhausted mind to understand his words. When she did, it hit her like a physical blow and she had to plant her poor abused sword into the mud to keep from falling to her knees. “I cannot,” the words were just a whisper of tortured sound from her lips, but he heard them anyway.
“Kneel before me for their lives, their souls - or walk away and leave them to me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She could not even look at her people for fear of what she would find there. The pleading for her to save them - or the pleading for her to leave them. Either would break the will she needed to think - to just stand. Closing her eyes she prayed as intensely as she had ever prayed before, ‘How can I do this thing? How can I not? These are your people I am charged to defend - please…please tell me what to do.’ There was no answer - which was of course a form of answer. This was her decision to make.
Drawing the last of her strength to stand straight and proud one last time, she thrust her sword - The sword - deep into the mud. With her throat nearly closed with the pain of unshed tears, she lowered herself slowly and painfully until she knelt on the ground. She knew what had to be done, for her there was truly no choice, but still she paused. She opened her mouth to speak the damning words and closed it again.
For the Sword of God to serve beside him would be an amazing victory for him and a harsh blow for her people, but more than that, he would use her to do this very thing to other towns, other villages. And her people would survive; she was sure of it. He would not break his end of the deal if it would keep her from breaking hers. But how many more souls would fall with her to aid him?
She turned her head back to her people and saw the trust in their eyes. Behind the defeat, behind the sorrow at losing so many, still she could see the trust. She was the Sword of God and they would do as she said. Some might even realize that the Voice of God did not speak to her to tell her what should be done.
Her voice when it came out was still hoarse and tired, but it carried to all of her people.
“We will die this day, my friends. Our souls will be bound to one that is not our God, will never to be free to walk the Summer Lands. Fighting will gain us no honor, no glory, no freedom, and with our souls taken, it will gain us no favor from our God.
But we shall never have to help him do this to another people. We shall not make it easier for him to destroy and enslave. We shall not give him the Sword of God to use as he wishes.”
Her voice began to grow louder and take on it’s former strength as she continued. “Fight with me my friends, just one last time. He may take our souls, but we will not give them to him.”
With that she called on strength she no longer had, to stand and rip her sword from the mud. The look in his eyes this whole time had been bemused, but disappointed. He had been so sure this plan would work. Of course, he would win either way. He would kill the GodBlade and her soul would still be his. When she found the strength to stand, he was surprised, but not worried. This GodBlade simply did not have the power to defeat him.
Seeing the look in his eyes, she recognized his thoughts and acknowledged their truth, but could not bring herself to care. If all she had left was one fight for her God, for her people, then she would fight it with a full heart. Smiling, she thrust her sword into the air yelling for her people to join her and was answered by their echoing yell.
Swinging her sword, she forgot all of her doubts, let go of all the belief that she would lose. There was only the joy of battle, pride for her people and love for her God.
Seeing all of this, the warlord was impressed and once again terribly disappointed. She would have been a splendid creature to have fighting for him. With a flick of fingers, he called up his power to block her sword blow, but something unexpected happened. Upon hitting his power, the sword shattered.
Watching her, he was thrilled to see her throw back her head and give what could only be a scream of pain. His joy was checked when he realized that the prayer on her neck was glowing fiercely. When she quit screaming and looked at him, her eyes glowed blindingly and the light seemed to spread across the field. Most amazingly, and painfully, it reflected off of the shattered pieces of her sword, the pieces that had embedded themselves in his flesh.
If the warlord would have screamed, none would ever know, for he did not have time to scream. The fragments of sword burned like fire in his skin and amazingly quickly, he was enveloped in light. When the light faded, there was only a pile of ash left in its place.
Watching out of glowing eyes, the GodBlade was the only one that was not too blinded to see the warlord’s destruction. And through those eyes, she saw the black lines of the warlords spell upon the field unravel as the light touched it. Once again she knelt, but this time no despair touched her. While her people finished off those of the warlord’s army that had stayed to fight, she knelt and prayed in the light of her God.
“Thank you for saving us, O God. There are no other words that I can give you than that. Thank you.”
Again she felt a line of warmth on her neck, the prayer revealing itself to her again and she heard a voice deep in her heart.
“I did not save you. I cannot save you. I can love you. I can welcome you home. But I cannot save you. Only you can do that.
Your faith saved you.”
hmm, can I remember how to cut?
Holy Warrior
This is actually a rewrite of Holy warrior with a totally different ending. THis ending came to me and I'm really not going anywhere with the other story so I figured, why not? The answer to that is actually - because you have many many other stories you should actually putting some work into you silly git. Quit writing random bits for 6 billion things. Oh, that's why not! Too bad - I was awake when I should have been asleep, so it's like time that doesn't count.
A bit shifty on the writing, but I like it.
Walking towards the warlord was the hardest thing she had ever done. The pain was nearly unbearable, pain of exhaustion, pain of hundreds of tiny sword cuts, pain of the blisters on her feet inside her impossibly heavy boots. Her hands hurt the most. The blisters on her palm had long since opened and become wounds, and it felt like most of the tiny slices were on her fingers. All of this was nothing to the pain of walking through the remainder of her people that silently watched her approach the warlord. So few left, and most of them wounded.
They had come to this fight because there was no other way. The warlord would destroy this country and enslave them, enslave their children. How could they do anything but fight? And so many had come; so many who had never fought before. Had they thought they could win? It hadn’t mattered. The warlord left them no way out, no surrender would grant them mercy, no treaty would make a difference.
And these were her people watching her. When she had bound herself to the service of the Sword and to God, it was these people she had sworn to protect. Their lives, their freedom, their happiness. The prayer that was tattooed on her neck held the spirit of that oath, that path. So many times she had felt it’s warmth as another line of the prayer was revealed to her. The meaning of the prayer was long since lost to mortal minds, but at times when things seemed without hope, the tattoo would give up another of it’s secrets; aiding her where no one else could. Now would be a perfect time for such guidance, but there was no warmth to be had.
As she finally reached the place where the warlord waited for her, she was annoyed and disturbed at how … human he looked. He looked striking - his hair a strange silver grey with his face still that of a young man. But his eyes destroyed the illusion. Black as a hole in a man’s heart, they had no whites showing, and no mercy. She still had her sword and it burned her not to even try to swing it at him. Nothing had ever been more tempting, to try to kill him, to wound him some small amount. And then to die without having to face this defeat, the loss of her people. It was a strangely peaceful thought, but unworthy of the vows she had sworn.
He stared at her and she wondered if she should speak first. He had called the parley and his was the army that would obviously win. He could not be waiting for her to beg - though she would if it would do her people any small amount of good.
But he did speak, and his voice carried farther than any mortal’s voice should. “You are the servant of your God. You are the Sword of your people. You are, in fact, their only hope.” He paused and she wondered if she should nod at that. The exhaustion was weighing so heavily on her, she could barely stand - much less think clearly. “I am the GodBlade, yes.”
“And you have had no life save being the Sword of your God, nothing other than that training and those oaths have ruled your life. No family, no other duties, nothing but that?”
“Yes.” Though her voice came out hoarse and tired, she could sense that all could hear her.
“I am here to offer you what has never been offered by any of my kind. Mercy.” He looked at her intently, judging what, she did not know. She was so tired, but still she sensed a trap.
“What are your terms?” What could they be? They could not defeat him - what could he possibly gain from them that he could not just take?
“In return for these people’s lives and souls, I would have the Sword of God Kneel to me and swear to serve me absolutely.”
“Hah!” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“ It is a prize no other of my kind has claimed, and perhaps you will refuse. But understand me, this battle that you have come to, was not of your devising. These plans to attack me here, on this field, were no mystery to me. Rituals were laid before ever you arrived here with this ‘army’. Even those that have already fallen in this battle are not safe - their souls lie within the boundaries of my ritual. If you refuse me, I will take them all.”
It actually took a few moments for her exhausted mind to understand his words. When she did, it hit her like a physical blow and she had to plant her poor abused sword into the mud to keep from falling to her knees. “I cannot,” the words were just a whisper of tortured sound from her lips, but he heard them anyway.
“Kneel before me for their lives, their souls - or walk away and leave them to me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She could not even look at her people for fear of what she would find there. The pleading for her to save them - or the pleading for her to leave them. Either would break the will she needed to think - to just stand. Closing her eyes she prayed as intensely as she had ever prayed before, ‘How can I do this thing? How can I not? These are your people I am charged to defend - please…please tell me what to do.’ There was no answer - which was of course a form of answer. This was her decision to make.
Drawing the last of her strength to stand straight and proud one last time, she thrust her sword - The sword - deep into the mud. With her throat nearly closed with the pain of unshed tears, she lowered herself slowly and painfully until she knelt on the ground. She knew what had to be done, for her there was truly no choice, but still she paused. She opened her mouth to speak the damning words and closed it again.
For the Sword of God to serve beside him would be an amazing victory for him and a harsh blow for her people, but more than that, he would use her to do this very thing to other towns, other villages. And her people would survive; she was sure of it. He would not break his end of the deal if it would keep her from breaking hers. But how many more souls would fall with her to aid him?
She turned her head back to her people and saw the trust in their eyes. Behind the defeat, behind the sorrow at losing so many, still she could see the trust. She was the Sword of God and they would do as she said. Some might even realize that the Voice of God did not speak to her to tell her what should be done.
Her voice when it came out was still hoarse and tired, but it carried to all of her people.
“We will die this day, my friends. Our souls will be bound to one that is not our God, will never to be free to walk the Summer Lands. Fighting will gain us no honor, no glory, no freedom, and with our souls taken, it will gain us no favor from our God.
But we shall never have to help him do this to another people. We shall not make it easier for him to destroy and enslave. We shall not give him the Sword of God to use as he wishes.”
Her voice began to grow louder and take on it’s former strength as she continued. “Fight with me my friends, just one last time. He may take our souls, but we will not give them to him.”
With that she called on strength she no longer had, to stand and rip her sword from the mud. The look in his eyes this whole time had been bemused, but disappointed. He had been so sure this plan would work. Of course, he would win either way. He would kill the GodBlade and her soul would still be his. When she found the strength to stand, he was surprised, but not worried. This GodBlade simply did not have the power to defeat him.
Seeing the look in his eyes, she recognized his thoughts and acknowledged their truth, but could not bring herself to care. If all she had left was one fight for her God, for her people, then she would fight it with a full heart. Smiling, she thrust her sword into the air yelling for her people to join her and was answered by their echoing yell.
Swinging her sword, she forgot all of her doubts, let go of all the belief that she would lose. There was only the joy of battle, pride for her people and love for her God.
Seeing all of this, the warlord was impressed and once again terribly disappointed. She would have been a splendid creature to have fighting for him. With a flick of fingers, he called up his power to block her sword blow, but something unexpected happened. Upon hitting his power, the sword shattered.
Watching her, he was thrilled to see her throw back her head and give what could only be a scream of pain. His joy was checked when he realized that the prayer on her neck was glowing fiercely. When she quit screaming and looked at him, her eyes glowed blindingly and the light seemed to spread across the field. Most amazingly, and painfully, it reflected off of the shattered pieces of her sword, the pieces that had embedded themselves in his flesh.
If the warlord would have screamed, none would ever know, for he did not have time to scream. The fragments of sword burned like fire in his skin and amazingly quickly, he was enveloped in light. When the light faded, there was only a pile of ash left in its place.
Watching out of glowing eyes, the GodBlade was the only one that was not too blinded to see the warlord’s destruction. And through those eyes, she saw the black lines of the warlords spell upon the field unravel as the light touched it. Once again she knelt, but this time no despair touched her. While her people finished off those of the warlord’s army that had stayed to fight, she knelt and prayed in the light of her God.
“Thank you for saving us, O God. There are no other words that I can give you than that. Thank you.”
Again she felt a line of warmth on her neck, the prayer revealing itself to her again and she heard a voice deep in her heart.
“I did not save you. I cannot save you. I can love you. I can welcome you home. But I cannot save you. Only you can do that.
Your faith saved you.”