Chapter 3 Part 23

Avery stood in the middle of the road. Where he was or how he had gotten there was the first question in his mind. Looking around, he saw that he was on a road near the edge of a forest. Far in the distance, he could make out what appeared to be the walls and towers of a large city. Not quite so far, there was an old woman and a small child sitting by the road.

Avery tried to push his curiosity and irritation at being zapped to yet another place in the back of his mind. As long as he was there, he might as well try to make the best of it.

He probably should go to the city and find some answers to a few questions he had about where he was exactly. However, blindly rushing into cities without knowing something of the culture was foolish. So, Avery decided to speak to the odd pair sitting by the roadside and discover what information he could from them.

As he approached, the old woman took note of him and watched him cautiously. The child was weeping and the woman was trying to calm her. Even as Avery approached, he could not discern the child's gender, but the clothing and long hair seemed to suggest a small girl of about five years old.

"Good day," he said as he approached in a non-threatening manner.

The elderly lady nodded and hugged the child closely.

"I was on my way to the city," he said gesturing down the road. "Then I heard the young one's sorrow. Is there any way I can help?"

The woman shook her head in a negative manner, but the child turned to stare at the halfelf with eyes that had shed a river of tears. "Are you an elf?" she asked between sobs.

Avery knelt down. The child was a pitiful sight of a girl, but her tearful eyes bore a hole into his very being, and he felt an urge to comfort her. "My father was an elf," he said. "My mother was a dryad." He sat on the ground next to the couple.

"Would you be my new daddy?"

Avery was taken aback. Her what? He looked at the old woman. "Are you the mother?"

The old woman smiled. "Son, you don't have to pretend. I know I am old. I could never have given birth to this blessing at my age."

Avery's heart went out to the child. Apparently she was an orphan. That was something he could sympathize with. He tried to comfort her. "Do you know what a dryad is?"

The girl told him that she did.

"Then you know that when a dryad's tree dies, so does the dryad." Again the girl showed that she understood. "Well," he continued, "one day when I was very young, a band of goblins set fire to the forest in which my parents lived. Since my father was a druid, he tried to stop the blaze, but the goblins killed him, and when the fire destroyed my mother's tree, she died also."

"My mother ran away from me," the girl said with a detached ease that gave Avery the indication that it had happened long ago.

"I am sorry to hear that," he said. "What of your father?"

"Her father was my daughter's husband," the old woman said. "And soon he will leave this innocent child, too."

"Why?"

"Through no fault of his own, I assure you," she said. "He is a decent man." She sighed. "But very stubborn."

"He was brave," the child insisted.

"Aye, that too my jewel."

"What happened to him?" Avery asked.

"I am afraid he is a victim of greed and twisted laws." She hugged her grandchild close. "Her parents were farmers," she explained. "They held their own until that irresponsible daughter of mine ran off with a stranger and left her husband to care for an infant and a farm alone." The old woman spat in the dust as she spoke of her own child.

"When my son-in-law fell behind on his bills and taxes, the state took his lands."

"Life is rarely fair," Avery said showing sympathy. "Was there no one who would help him?"

"There may have been, but he was too proud to ask."

Avery shook his head slowly. "The wise man knows when he needs help and there is no shame in the asking."

"As I said, 'he is a stubborn man'." The old woman absently stroked the child's tangled hair. "It wasn't until this precious girl was suffering from malnutrition and was half-starved to death that his spirit broke."

"What did he do?"

"He stole a loaf of bread."

"Was he caught?"

The woman bowed her head. "He was caught, tried and branded to five years of bonded servitude for his crimes."

"I am sorry for you," Avery said firmly, "but the law is the law. A thief must pay for his crimes."

"Of that I agree," she said. "My complaint is for the welfare of the child."

"She has you."

"Not for long." She sighed, "my days are numbered, and my back can no longer toil to earn bread."

Avery checked his money pouch. There was very little in it. Most of their money was held by Ultrecht and Armegon.

Seeing his actions, the woman said, "You are kind, sir, but charity is not what we need."

"Then there is little else I can do," Avery said. "I suggest you take what money I can produce and contract a nice family for her."

Before the old woman could speak, a noise from the city caused them all to turn and look. Trudging up the hill was a ragged man pulling a cart loaded with compost. He was flanked by two men on horses. The man who rode on the left was in fine clothes, branding him a merchant of great success. The other was obviously an officer of the city's guard.

Before anyone could act, the child had jumped out of the woman's arms and was running towards the approaching party.

"Daddy," she cried as she flung her arms around the leg of the slave pulling the cart.

The merchant kicked at the child with his foot. "Get away, brat," he said. "This is my slave, and he has no children."

Avery clenched his teeth. No method of justice should alienate a father from his daughter.

The soldier leaned down, scooping the girl in one hand and depositing her roughly on the ground next to where Avery stood. "Well, old woman," the guardsman said as he pulled his mount up to where the old woman sat. "Still begging for money?"

"She has asked for no funds," Avery informed him. "In fact, she refused what I did offer her."

"Shut up, half-breed!" The merchant snapped as he pulled up along side of the guardsman. "You will speak only when spoken to."

Not wanting to cause a disturbance with the local populace, Avery swallowed his pride and refrained from responding. Instead, he inspected the girl's father as he approached. His eyes were vacant and his skin hung loosely on his bones. He was obviously being starved.

"I am surprised to see you still alive, old woman," the soldier laughed. "I bet master Brigon here that you would be dead within the week." He winked mockingly at her. "Do be a dear and croak within the next two days."

The old woman spat, and Avery agreed that the jest was in poor taste.

"Don't you think I know what will happen to this child when I die?" She turned to look at Avery. "They want me to die," she explained, "because I am the last free relative the poor child has. When I am gone, Brigon will work her father to death and claim her to finish her father's sentence. Probably in a house of pleasure." She spat again. "That is why I sit here every day. There exists an old law which allows the girl's father to go free if someone is willing to serve his sentence for him. It is the child's only hope."

"Oh, yes, half-breed," the merchant said greedily while eyeing the child. "If she grows up to look anything like her mother, she will sell quite well." He drooled then winked at Avery. "Got any taste for young flesh?"

Avery felt his blood boiling and clenched his fists. This was horrible. The child was not guilty. But he had no right to interfere with the city's established laws.

Seeing that the halfelf was getting flushed with anger, the merchant decided to goad him into a fight. Halfelves live for hundreds of years and were quite good at performing manual labor. If he could get him to attack, his companion would easily subdue the attacker and the law would sentence the halfelf to slavery.

"Oh yes," he said looking hurt. "The child's father still has several years left on his sentence." He laughed. "Of course, he had no choice but to steal. I kept raising the price on his mortgage and charged him double for his food."

That was enough. The law was meant to serve the public, not to be used by one man to destroy another in the name of greed. Legal or not, what was happening there was wrong.

"I will take the man's place," Avery announced to his own astonishment.

The merchant and soldier looked at each other. "I don't think you understand," the soldier said. "That slave has a seven year sentence to carry out."

"Let him go," Avery said. "I will serve his sentence and the child will have a better life."

Brigon rubbed his chin. The halfelf would make an excellent slave. His value was good and it would be no problem to frame him with some crime that would force him into permanent slavery.

But then there was the girl. He hadn't expected the girl's father to live through the first year. That was why he had swindled and cheated the man into stealing. He wanted to sell the girl. A young virgin would make him enough money to retire in style. Who cared what happened to her later.

"No," he said firmly.

"You can not deny him," the woman shouted as she climbed to her feet. She turned to Avery as if pleading his case. "By law, he can only deny you if you are worth less than the present slave."

"I have my reasons," he replied, "and they are not for you to judge."

"If you can not give such a reason," Avery said as he drew himself up to his full height and faced the horseman, "then obey the law. I am willing to serve for this man."

The guard glanced at the merchant who glared at Avery. Avery showed no sign of anxiety in the least. He had given his word. If the merchant accepted, he would keep the bargain in good faith. But Avery was almost certain that his offer would be refused.

"And just what are you going to do if I refuse?" Brigon said with a smile.

"Then it is up to me to enforce that law," the soldier cut in. "And I see no violation."

"Then perhaps you should be educated in the matters of law."

Brigon held up a gold coin. "This," he said sarcastically, "is the law."

"To offer a bribe is as much a crime as to accept one," Avery pointed out. "And both are far more serious than the theft of a simple loaf of bread."

"Are you planning to report us?" the soldier laughed.

Avery did not respond.

"Hey Farkin," Brigon said with mocking fear. "Is he threatening us?"

"Why, I do believe so!"

"He did not!" the woman spoke out trying to defuse the situation. She knew what these villains were planning.

"What did you see happen, Farkin?" Brigon asked.

"You were attacked by a halfelf who slew your slave and an old woman relative of his." With this the soldier dismounted and pulled a broadsword from its sheath by the saddle.

"That left me with the slave's orphaned child to care for," Brigon agreed.

Farkin walked around the cart towards Avery, who retreated a few steps. Suddenly, the tall man whirled and plunged the sword into the slave's side, felling him with a single thrust.

The girl screamed with a scream that seemed to echo off a thousand walls penetrating into the very hearts of those around.

Farkin turned towards the old woman.

"Help us, please," the girl begged as she ran towards her last living relative. The old woman stood defiantly.

Avery could no longer stand motionless. Although he carried no weapon other than a hunting knife, he sprang towards the swordsman.

Seeing this action, Farkin spun and expertly sliced open the halfelf's arm. Then with a flick of his wrist, he brought the flat of the blade down to the base of Avery's skull.

Stunned and bleeding profusely from his left arm, Avery fell to the ground. With his senses reeling, he could do no more than watch as the old woman also fell under the swordsman's skill. Slowly his eyes moved to the ground in search of a weapon--a stone, limb, anything that would inflict injury.

Miraculously, his gaze fell on the lower half of an old rusted sword hilt. Its blade was broken less than a foot from the handguard. He slowly reached for the shoddy weapon. The sounds of resistance came from behind as the little girl struggled to escape her new masters.

Avery stretched his reach as far as he could until his fingers just touched the metal. There was a tingle in his hand and a buzzing in his head that slowly coalesced into speech. Time seemed to stand still as the voice became clearer and louder.

Behold mortal, for I am thy doom, it said. For over a thousand years I have awaited a hand.

Who are you? Avery thought back.

I am victory and defeat--a never-ending quest, power and helplessness.

I must fight, Avery explained.

My service has a price, the voice countered. Your freedom will be forfeit if you do.

My soul will be forfeit if I don't, Avery cried adamant.

The choice is yours.

Suddenly, Avery was on his feet. Before him, he held a longsword with razor-sharp edges. He watched with fascination as his partially amputated left arm healed in a flash of light. He felt the power running down his arms into his body and his mind exploded at the force of the magic that had yanked him from the ground like a toy.

The sword twisted in his hand, and Avery watched as if in a dream as Farkin's head rolled to a stop at his feet. Avery's hand moved independently of his will. Brigon was lifted out of his saddle on the tip of the sword and slid down toward the hilt with a sickening sound. Avery felt no weight. It was as if he were merely holding an empty hand out.

We must cleanse the city, the voice said.

"What?" Avery asked aloud.

The city is full of injustice; we must pass judgment on them as well.

The sword tugged towards the city and Avery took a few involuntary steps before he fought himself to a halt. With a supreme effort, he forced his fingers open and let the blade fall to the ground.

"No," he said. "I will not kill without reason, and only then if I have exhausted all other methods at my disposal."

They are vermin, the voice said.

"Not all of them are evil."

There is only one among the entire four hundred that is not involved in slavery or corruption. It is for the greater good that we destroy the city.

"Not all of them are evil," Avery shot back. "I will see ten guilty men go free before I will condemn one innocent life."

There was no reply except that the compulsion to go towards the city faded.

Avery knelt to check on the fallen bodies. Only the old woman remained alive, but that would soon change if he did not act immediately. Quickly, Avery bound her wounds and stopped the bleeding.

The girl was sitting on the grass. She was obviously in deep shock. Avery knew that she needed looking after as well. In moments, he had stabilized the woman and was seeing to the girl.

Suddenly, the woman was on her feet and standing beside him. The strange sword she held reverently in her hands. "For thousands of years travelers have been tested to visit the oracle," she said. And as she spoke, she seemed to grow younger and smaller, until she, too, looked like a small girl. "Most fail. Some pass. But very few do both."

Avery wanted to speak but found his tongue would not move.

"Those who made no attempt to help the girl found themselves receiving no help from the oracle. Those who at least offered to trade their freedom found themselves free to leave. Those who successfully defended the girl and old woman and freed the father found their way to visit the oracle. Only a few were willing to risk their sanity and life to defend an ideal. And until you came, none of them had the strength of heart to decline great power for the sake of a single innocent life." She reversed the weapon and offered it to him hilt first. "I am the Maiden of the Morning. I and my sister, the Maiden of the Evening, serve the Dragon. He has seen your arrival long before you were born in your own world. You have been chosen by your actions to take up this weapon called the "Dawn of Law" by the gods, "Godslayer" by the devils, and "Liberator" by the mortal races. You will wield it wisely by the wisdom of your own heart. This weapon, made during the Creation, is The Sword of Justice."

Avery automatically reached out and took the handle. There was no rush this time, but a slight tingle, hinting of unimaginable power. "I am a healer first, not a warrior," he protested.

"That is why you were chosen," she replied. "A judge must also be merciful and compassionate."

"Will we ever make it back home," he asked remembering Scarlet's parting words.

"It is necessary that you will not," she replied. "Fate and events that have put the sword in your hand gave you the choice. Did it not warn you that your freedom would be lost?"

Avery conceded. "And my friends?"

"I could tell you, but you would not remember."

Avery looked at the weapon. The hilt was wound with braided leather with a small silver ball at the end. The handguard was a rather plain gray, with two spikes acting as a shear guard rising at a forty five degree angle from the base of the blade. The blade itself was made of a deep blue translucent substance that spread about three fingers wide at the base and narrowed to a point about a meter long, making the whole thing one long skinny triangle. It was impossibly thin and rigid. When viewed from the edge, the blade almost disappeared. Avery found himself comparing it to looking at a thread in a spider web. Yet, in spite of this, it would not bend. The only other odd feature was the red edges. Where the blade had been edged, the substance was red. It was not paint nor blood.

"But...." Avery was about to speak when his vision blurred and he found himself standing by the door of the entrance to the Oracle's lair.

The halfelf made a quick survey of his new environment. There was evidence of a fair number of people having moved through the area recently. "I wonder where everyone is?" he asked himself.

They will come, the sword answered.