This is the final part of a three-part short story. Be sure to read Part One and Part Two first!
Beneath the shelter offered by the large boulder, Ainé slept in Calder's arms, her head rested on his shoulder, his arm holding her tight. The storm overhead had begun to recede and the clouds broke to reveal twinkling stars. In the distance, the first amber hues of dawn filtered through the sky.
They had survived the treachery of the night and remained free from the clutches of Ainé's father. When she had slept enough, they would set out to find the road and finally be off to start their life anew. The thought of the future they would spend together comforted Calder and with the gentle pitter-patter of the rain upon the leaves and rocks, he too found himself lulled into dream.
'Thievery is evil.'
Calder was shook awake by the voice. It was gruff and accusatory and seemed a distant thing. Had he imagined it? He looked around and saw no sign of who it came from. The sun was still rising lethargic upon the horizon so he figured he hadn't been asleep for long. Was it one of the Baron's men, come to take Ainé home, to kill Calder in the process?
'Thieves should be punished.' Closer now, more vehement.
'Show yourself!' he yelled. 'Are you one of DeLane's men? You won't take her! I won't let you!' He looked about once more, still no one.
Ainé woke abruptly at the shout and looked to Calder with fear in her eyes.
'What's going on?' she asked. 'Who is it?'
'I don't know. They're hiding.' he said, 'Get up. We should go. Now.'
Calder made to stand but as he did the large outline of a man appeared from beneath the shadows cast by the the trees. He held his arm out protectively in front of Ainé. If he was to die here, he would at least give the one thing that mattered to him the time to flee.
'The first step in repentance is to feel guilt.' said the mysterious man. His long shaggy hair hid half his face. His tatterdemalion attire ancient in appearance. The man walked forward in slow, plodding steps dragging a pegged leg behind him through the soft earth.
'You're not one of the Baron's men! Who are you?'
The man continued as if Calder had never spoken. 'The next step is to confess.'
'We have nothing for you, stranger! Leave us be!'
Calder could feel Ainé's white-knuckled grip on his arm shivering with fear, found he too was unsteady on his feet. The large man lumbered on, dragging his pegged leg behind him through the brush and rubble. It made a painful screeching sound that grated Calder's ears and he fought his instinct to cover his ears and faced the man with as much will as he could muster.
'Then, one must beg forgiveness, for the wrongs they have done and the evil of their ways.' The man began to smile gleefully and bared sickly yellowed teeth sharpened to points.
What could Calder do against this mad man? Fool that he was, he had never equipped himself with anything more than a knife better suited to peeling apples than fighting off foes. Hell, now that he thought of it, he had no idea if he still had it, what with the chaos of their escape. He slowly pushed Ainé away, loosened her grip upon his arm, and felt around his waist for the blade. The cold metal of the knife granted him brief comfort, but it was quickly lost as he looked back into the eyes of the stranger walking towards him.
The man seemed to be growing larger, his one visible eye darting about wildly. Calder could swear it was even changing colour, slowly turning orange in reflection of the amber-lit sky of dawn. Then he was sure of it as the pupil became oblong and the eyes became undoubtedly animalistic; wolf-like in appearance. The man's muscled popped and bulged. His shoulders, arms and legs expressing a deeper strength than they had before. Fur sprouted from his body in thick tufts and his face elongated to form a grotesque snout. The pegged leg became a sinuous limb ending in a cloven hoof, the other a monstrously muscled leg ending in a paw. A spectral wind swept back his hair and wrapped about his amplified form as he bent over, his back crooked in a painful arc, and a long, muscular, and reptilian tail surged from his lower back.
The thing howled to the brightening sky and Calder could see that the eye previously hidden behind unkempt strands of hair was missing, no hole visible to ever mark its presence. If he had felt fear before, it was a paltry thing and now felt true terror, magnified to new heights. Ainé shrieked behind him and it came distant against the deafening bass of his thumping heart. His death was nigh. He knew it. He could fight against the inevitability all he liked but he knew he would die here.
The monster straightened and in his hands there formed a long-handled wood axe, its head huge and fearsome. 'Restitution must be made!'
The beast resumed his advance and picked up pace, charging Calder with a snarl. Drool flew from his gaping maw like a rabid dog. Calder struggled against his belt rings to free his knife but the beast was too fast, Calder's fingers too clumsy with fear.
The monstrosity raised his axe high above his head as he closed on the young man. He drove it down with overwhelming force towards Calder's head. Calder dived, rolled haphazardly across the uneven ground. He regained his feet as quickly as he could manage and saw blood streaming down his tattered sleeves. The sharp rubble of the earth had scored his arms raw and only as he looked at the damage it had done, did the pain of it sink in. He screamed like a child, stricken by fear and pain and woe and emotions so mixed together that he could neither tell or conceive from whence they came.
Another scream from Ainé brought him back to the world and he became horridly aware of her proximity to the monster. She was backed against the boulder, making every effort to melt into it, to use it as a shield to protect herself. Yet whatever dark magic brought this beast to plague them had no mercy for a frightened and senseless girl.
Strangely, the monster seemed transfixed only upon Calder, as though Ainé did not exist. Calder struggled again against his belt and finally won the knife free, a faint glimmer of hope sparking in his chest. Then he looked to it and dismay washed over him anew. He would be lucky to trim a nail with the thing, let alone kill a beast such as this.
'Quick!' barked the monster. 'Not smart. That thing won't save you. Try this! Try me, boy! Justify your crimes! Your right to forgiveness.'
A heavily ornamented sword appeared at Calder's feet, formed in wisps of red smoke drifting slowly away. Calder threw the knife down and grasped the foul gift. It was lighter than he had imagined and seemed oddly suited to his height and build. Of course, he was no more than a tailor's son. His only experience with playing the warrior came from childhood games with sticks and stones. Still, he had to try, had to hang onto some hope of getting out of this alive; getting Ainé out of this alive.
He had only just steeled himself against the crippling fear when the beast charged once more in his direction.
'Calder!' screamed Ainé, but it was too late. The beast already had the jump on him.
'Repent!' he growled.
Calder just barely had time to raise the sword up to block the powerful blow the beast launched on him. Sparks flew as the steel blade ground against the head of the axe. The blade flew from the axe and and sent it thudding to the ground. Calder felt the harsh vibrations of the clash rush up his arms and threaten to steal the blade from his hands. His grip tightened and he tried in futile mockery to mimic the stance of a swordsman, as he had seen from the tournaments held at the Baron's enclave. He felt fool enough holding the sword and more fool now that he pretended talent. Yet this was his only chance, as bare as it was. He leapt forward, slashed and thrust with crazed, ungraceful motions at the monster. The thing dodged his pitiful attacks effortlessly then lunged at Calder with a foray of his own. Calder narrowly avoided the deathly blows with impotent efficacy and meekly checked a handful of slices, each one sapping ever more strength from his tired and injured arms.
The beast bound backwards and stood tall. He let out a roaring laugh that echoed through the clearing. 'You seek to outmatch me, boy? Very well, be your head upon it!'
He came on again, faster this time, strafing swiftly from side to side. Calder had no time to react before the monster was looming over him, its breath driving him to dizziness with its cadaverous stench. The beast pushed into him with the handle of his axe, its inhuman strength driving Calder back at breakneck speed until his retreat was arrested as he slammed against the rough bole of a tree. The blunt end of the axe head pressed up against his neck and into his throat, cutting off his supply of air. He coughed and spluttered, tried with all the might he could muster to remove the beast from him. It was all in vain.
Calder's vision blurred and darkened. He was on the verge of passing out. He had been right. He would die here today and Ainé along with him. At least, they would meet the gods together. At least, they would be hand in hand as they reached the shores of Tír nÓige. His arms slackened and the grip on the sword loosened. The weapon dropped softly from his hands as he drifted off into amaranthine slumber. It was over. He had made a mistake taking Ainé from her father. He was ready to repent.
The pressure upon his throat softened then disappeared. The pulsating pain left behind telling him he was still alive, could still fight to remain that way. His eyes remained closed as the blood rushed painfully through his head. A monstrous roar broke through the fog of his mind and he opened his eyes. The beast had the axe raised high. He chopped it down with another thunderous roar and dark currents of wind swept up about it as it flew down towards Calder's head, who winced and close tight his eyes once more.
Then a shriek burst through his ears and he opened his eyes to see Ainé before him. Time slowed to a crawl. His lover's dead eyes locked on his before turning back into their sockets. The tip of the axe jutted from her temple, the skull split dreadfully wide. Her severed brain fell into view. Blood streamed down in a tumultuous flood over paling features. Her mouth lay agape in terror.
She dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.
'The price is paid.' said the monster as it pulled free the demonic weapon. A faint tinge of sadness, or calm, seemed to colour the statement. 'Your sins are forgiven.'
Calder stood motionless for a long time, nauseated by the visage of Ainé's limp and lifeless body. Appalled that he could not save her. Disgusted that it had been she who had the bravery to give up her life for his. Horrified that he had made it all happen. He looked to the beast, his face still paralyzed in shocked disbelief by the horror he had witnessed.
'Be glad she is gone, boy.' said the beast, his arms upon crossed legs as he sat on the ground. The bloody axe lay at his feet, slowly disintegrating and burning all life from the grass about it. The monster seemed almost human again. Some animalistic qualities remained but a sort of gentleness seemed to wash over and stain the thing.
'She will not see what is to come.' he continued. 'Won't see the justice my kind must take. The terror we must inflict. The lies your gods will spread. They have become weak and indolent. You humans; too arrogant and bold. It is time for Balor to return.'
Calder sought his voice against the pain and terror that assailed him but could only croak: 'Why?'
'Because one must die. And one must live. The tale needs telling. The horror needs spreading.'
'But why us?'
'Convenience, boy. Nothing but banal convenience' Then the monster vanished in thick black smoke. All that remained was a reddening patch of grass, a bloody trail, and the inanimate form of Ainé at Calder's feet.
There was a rustling in the brush and the bark of a dog. Calder leapt to his senses and turned to face the disturbance. A man, armoured and panting, broke through the trees, a snarling hound pulling at the reigns held tight in his hand. One of the Baron's men. One of...her father...but she...He could not even speak her name now, all thoughts of her choked him.
'Ey!' shouted the guard back into the trees. 'I've found the lad! In the clearing, not twenty paces from me.'
He turned back to face Calder. 'Don't move, lad. I don't wanna have to hurt ya. Where's the—' The guard's eyes now dropped to Calder's feet then back up to his face as he drew free his sword.
'What have you done, lad?' he said confused. Anger began to boil to the surface. 'You'll face more than the rope for this!'
The guard ran towards Calder, his grip on the reigns forgotten and the dog following with bloodthirsty conviction. Calder just dropped to his knees, took Ainé in his arms, and closed his eyes.
