Divine Judgment

Ether burned at Arawn's fingertips. He could feel its anger and affront for being used to slaughter innocents. The people in the village hadn't had a chance to fight back. They wore the clothes of travelers and simple villagers, and their empty stares were now etched forever in Arawn's mind.

He had never seen a slaughter of such scale. No, it wasn't that. When he went crazy himself, death came like a hungry animal, taking everyone in turn.

But he regretted what he had done. He paid the price in agony and pain, and he would have found a way to die a long time ago if it wasn't impossible for him.

Yet the soldiers reveled in their killing. Over the crackle of flames, Arawn could pick up their excited shouts and jeers at the fallen. Some men were laughing as they saw a corpse catch fire. In their eyes, it was a glorious thing to rain death upon those that had angered them.

"Arawn! Don't do anything rash!" Sylvester shouted out as he hobbled down the hill.

It was quite brave of him to enter the storm of raging ether around Arawn, but it wasn't enough. Not even close.

Arawn turned around and focused on the targets of his ire. Anyone who killed without asking a question did not deserve to live. It was a simple tenant, but it was all that mattered. The world would be better off without monsters around.

The ether in Arawn's hands was given purpose, and it flew at the village like divine judgment. The soldiers, however, hadn't been looking upwards, nor sideways for that matter. Blinded by the flames around them and their self-righteous anger, they only saw the ground in search of more victims.

That became their downfall. They did not see the ether come from afar, and when it was close, it cleaved through their petty defenses, striking them down where they stood.

Every slash forward of Arawn's arm released five or more ether blades. He hadn't known he could do that before, but he didn't care about it. His mind was only on the monsters in front of him.

Some people hid in houses, so Arawn sent the buildings tumbling over their heads. Others raised their elements to defend, but they were useless. A mere scattering of ether was not going to stop a blade of flashing white.

A few brave ones decided to rush him once they realized what was happening. They burst out of the flames like vengeful ghosts ready to slaughter him, but Arawn only sneered at them. Did they really think he would be so easy to deal with? They would have been better off running away.

Pearly-white ether coalesced in his hands, and he sent a dozen blades at the incoming riders. The mad fury in their eyes instantly changed into horror and disbelief, and they dropped to the ground like stones.

Their animals, however, could not follow suit. The four horses were sliced apart and fell to the ground screaming. Their voices were ear-splitting.

Arawn winced at the sound. He could not listen to it and ended the animals' misery.

The riders had thought to use his momentary distraction to escape in different directions, but Arawn hadn't forgotten about them. On foot, they had nothing on ether's speed. A few ether blades were enough to make sure they never saw the light of dawn again.

Something moved behind him, and Arawn whirled with ether in his hands, but it was only Mutallu. The young assassin gave the dead soldiers a quick look, then returned his gaze to Arawn.

"That's enough. Stop it."

Words of fury were at the tip of Arawn's tongue, but he could sense that there was no more life left in the village. It had only been a small group of runaway soldiers who had wanted to exact revenge on people that had pushed away their countrymen out of their homes.

With reluctance, Arawn let go of the ether. It circled around him for a while more, begging him to call it back again, but when he didn't, it slowly scattered.

Once the blinding light was gone, night reclaimed its land. Darkness settled on the hill and around it, with only a few remnants of fires burning in the village. They looked unwelcoming in the chill of the night, like traps waiting for an unwary traveler.

"What have you done," Sylvester whispered, finally reaching the bottom of the hill as well. His breathing was labored and he looked barely able to stand on his feet, for which Arawn felt a little guilty. The doctor shouldn't have come down the hill in his condition.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Sylvester repeated, his voice no more than a whisper.

"They killed those villagers. They—" Arawn began to explain himself, but a sneer from the doctor shut him up.

Sylvester glanced at the ruins of the village, then back up the hill. The old lord stood at the forefront, watching the last of the flames burning below.

The people around him, his guards and soldiers, looked stricken. Some of them had taken a few steps back, away from the distant figure that had sent death upon their once comrades. At that moment, it was unlikely that any one of them would admit to being close to that group of unruly men.

And yet anger burned in their eyes. Even from the distance, Arawn could see it in their postures and the way they held tight their sword hilts. If he was closer to them, there was no telling if no one would attack him.

"It's one thing to know you're housing someone with great power, and another to know they're not afraid to use it. You just created a name for yourself, and it's not one you're gonna like," Sylvester said with a loud exhale.

He grabbed Arawn's shoulder in a show of reprimand, but in reality, he needed to hold onto something to not fall over. Sweat poured down his face, and his eyes blinked excessively, as if warding away exhaustion.

"Couldn't you have found a better day to show off your skills? How am I going to explain your apparent madness if I'm about to keel over." With another long exhale, he motioned for Mutallu to come closer. "You, help me get back up that cursed hill. And you,"—he turned to Arawn—"walk behind me and look admonished."

"Why?" Arawn asked with a look upwards. There wasn't anyone there he wanted to put up an act for.

"Because if you don't, I'm gonna stab you with a sleeping drug, and we'll see how you'll like that." Anger showed up on Sylvester's face, and Arawn realized that tired, he was even more short-tempered than normally.

As he thought that, the doctor's eyes narrowed on him. "I've been willing to play along with your stupidity this far, but don't push me. I'm not Corwal who'll eat all your shit up and smile. Do as I say or we're through."

When faced with such an ultimatum, Arawn decided to be the one to take a step back this time. He had pushed Sylvester the day before, and he hadn't liked how that felt. Not that he was sure it would work again.

The Sylvester before him now looked livid. If his advice was thrown aside once more, it wasn't a far stretch to consider that a poisoned needle might appear between his fingertips.

It was better to be as far away as possible from such dangers, so Arawn fell back a couple steps and looked at the ground like he was being chagrined. At least Sylvester didn't seem to really be planning to give him an earful for his actions.

Maybe he understood that it wouldn't change anything. Whatever complicated social or law-based rules would be thrown at him, Arawn would not care for them. Maybe he was simple because he didn't want to get lost in his own belief system, or maybe it was the monster in him speaking, but only death could repay death. Anyone who raised a hand against their fellow human deserved to be have a hand raised against them.

The climb up the hill was a slow and arduous one. By the time they returned to the top, most of the fires in the village had gone out. The soldiers around the lord had bustled a bit, asking to come down or to attack Arawn, but the grey-haired old man told them to return to their positions and wait.

Once they finally made it to the top, Sylvester could not even pretend to be okay. He was shivering all over, and his breaths came in short gasps. His movements were mechanical, automated rather than conscious.

At such a state, it was impossible for him to craft any elegant thoughts. The lord noticed that, and his gaze softened a little, filling with worry, but his men were around him. He clenched his hand in a fist and ordered in a loud voice, "Lock them up in the carriage! Horus and Steph, you're staying as guards. Everyone else, come with me. We're riding down."

One of the guards ordered to stay bristled at the command. "But lord! What if they kill us and try to leave? You saw how he—"

"Shut up, Steph," the other guard hissed and covered his mouth. Smiling sheepishly, he turned to the lord. "Sir, we will do as told."

The old man nodded and got himself onto a horse brought just for him. Despite having come in a carriage, he easily got into a saddle and rode off, which begged the question why he hadn't done it in the first place.

While Arawn wondered about that, the soldiers rode off after their lord, leaving only two behind. Steph pushed away his companion's hand and glared at him. "What's wrong with you? Wasn't I telling the truth? What if they—"

"And that's why you're a moron," the other soldier, Horus, said. His eyes flitted to Arawn, and while he looked apprehensive, there was no overpowering dread in him. "Did you SEE what he did down there? If he wanted to kill us all, what would it matter if there's two of us or twenty? I'm not sure he'd even notice the difference."

"I'd have more targets," Arawn said before he could think better of it.

This time, even Mutallu couldn't resist rolling his eyes at him. "You deserve everything that comes your way," he said in a deadpan voice and marched off with Sylvester on his shoulder toward the carriage.

Feeling more than just a little awkward, Arawn hurried after him. He could see the stunned gazes of the two soldiers, and he didn't feel like waiting until they fully grasped what he had just said.