Refiner's Fire

Aedric decides to act on his hatred for Duke Dullerm

17.

Refiner’s Fire

 

“You are all warriors; seeking the honorable title of knight.” The monk spoke to the men as he paced slowly back and forth, “This is a noble calling and a serious commitment.   It is not much different from any clerical order.”

“Yes, there are some who are knights who do not receive from Yesh the blessing of a Paladin.   But those who truly seek to serve our Lord will hunger for this blessing.   So this evening, I ask of you, young men, do you hunger for this level of commitment and holiness with your God?”

 

He paused and glanced around the room at the young men.   Though his eyes only passed over him for an instant, Aedric felt as if the young monk had struck him in the face.  

 

“Most of you are right with your Lord and will indeed receive the blessings of a Paladin.   Yet not all of you.  For God has shown me that there are among you those who are not right with Yesh.   Indeed, there are those who make lip service to Him, but who do not know of the mercy of Yesh and lack his shielding salvation.”

He paused, staring again all around him.   At his table, all of the knights of Westmark and Dullerm looked somewhat grim and concerned, wondering if they were one of those Keaven mentioned.  

 

But for Aedric, it was worse.   He did not serve Yesh, for his father had scorned Yesh as a human god.  Instead, he had worshiped the Great Tree and all of nature as the creative power of all things.   It had been typical of the Faesidhe and they had kept those who sought to evangelize the Elves from ever entering the forest.

 

Of course his foster parents had introduced him to the religion, and he had told them that he understood and believed, yet his heart had remained cold and loyal to the beliefs of his father.   Never had it been as awkward as it was now.  

 

For somehow the young monk of Yesh had a power about him.   It was as if all of Aedric’s confusion and frustration somehow was tied in with his lack of understanding.   At least this was the conclusion his emotion rattled brain told him as he sat there trying to hide from the eagle-eyed gaze of the holy man.

“I know who you are.” Keaven said flatly and the words made a chill go up Aedric’s back.

 

“I sense the rage and fear within you.” The monk continued, and though he looked over Aedric’s head, the young Elf knew he was speaking directly to him.

 

“You hide behind your armor, thinking it will protect you.   You depend upon your sword, thinking it will defend you.   But you are an alien in this world, and Yesh will not accept you.   Yesh the Merciful said, ‘Bitterness poisons the mind, rage consumes the soul like fire.   Expel the poison and be clear of mind, douse the fire and save your soul from the fires of Hell.’”

 

Aedric’s head was nearly in his plate of food.   He still felt the prideful anger and hatred of the Drow, but the words of the monk were piercing him like arrows.  

 

“Young men, do not let your past destroy your future.   Do not let your status or station give you arrogance.   For all of you will stand naked before God to give account of yourself, with no armor or sword to protect or defend you.”  

 

“Later tonight you will take the vow of a knight; I would implore you to examine yourself hotly between now and then.   For what poisons you can be drawn out.   What corrupts your purity can be refined as metal is refined by fire.   The dross always comes to the surface sooner or later, better for it to be removed before the metal is cast.   For what is pure is stronger.   May Yesh the Merciful guide you tonight and purify your heart.” 

 

Brother Keaven bowed slightly to them and then turned and walked around the table, to a seat left for him between Duke Dullerm and the Queen.

 

The banquet hall stayed deathly quiet for a long moment as the knights-in-training, and even the nobles, reflected on the young monk’s words.   Finally Eioldth gestured to the royal musicians and they played a merry tune, which caused the mood to slowly return to its earlier state.

“Wow, what a speaker.”  Aaron commented to him.  Aedric just distantly nodded.   He couldn’t hear anything else his foster brother said after that, for the young Elf was struggling to make a decision.

He obviously didn’t belong here.   He didn’t follow Yesh and just as the holy man had said, he was tainted and poisoned by his desire for revenge.  

Yet he was unsure on how to act on that revenge, or if it was even warranted.  Aedric wasn’t sure he would ever clearly know what the truth was, but he did know that he wouldn’t be able to sort it all out by the time of the knighting ceremony.

 

“Are you alright?”  Gamel asked him, sensing his turmoil.

“Shut up.” He said flatly as he stood up.  He didn’t hear Aaron or the others questions to him as he walked around the table, his eyes locked on Duke Dullerm.   

He walked purposely toward him, his hand pulling his sword out of his scabbard as he walked.

In the revelry of the room, few saw him as he quickly walked up to the platform.   The half-Drow saw him at the last moment as he approached, raising his sword.  

The Duke’s eyes widened in alarm.

 

For a split second, he debated striking at the man who had killed his father.   He had the best chance of killing him that he would probably ever have at that moment.   He could kill the man who had decapitated his father.   For a frozen second of time, he considered this option, but the words of Brother Keaven echoed in his ears.

 

Aedric looked down at his sword and took it by the blade, handing it pommel first to the startled Duke.

“Duke Dullerm, I hate you.  I have hated you since I saw you kill my brothers and cut the head off my father.   I wish earnestly that you had killed me on that same day with your dagger.”  

 

“I have schemed and dreamt of killing you, your son, and now your albino daughter, who led to the destruction of my people.  I do not believe in Yesh and I am poisoned by my hatred and rage.   Take my sword; I can no longer pretend to be what I am not.”

 

He laid the sword down on the table as all those who had heard his words sat stunned.   The rest of the hall was far too noisy to notice the event.

 

Aedric walked toward the double doors of the hall, wondering if the guards would grab him and put him in irons now, or if the surprise of his actions would give him a little time before he was taken prisoner.

He really didn’t care, for he was sick of the turmoil.   He didn’t turn as he walked past the Monk and then Snoe, but he felt both pairs of eyes on him.  

 

To his amazement, no one tried to stop him and the guards even opened the doors for him.   He walked through them, and numbly kept walking until he found himself standing before the bank of the large artificial royal lake.  

 

The sun was just setting, filling the sky with orange resembling molten metal.   The young Elf just sat on one of the empty benches that surrounded the lake and wept.