by Pirateaba
His voice—Erin felt a cold chill run down her back, but she refused to move back. She looked at Pawn. He stared back.
“whAt ArE wE?”
A faint sound made Erin look away from Pawn. Olesm, Ceria, and Zevara hadn’t noticed his behavior, but Halrac had. He was holding something in his left hand. A dagger.
Erin looked at him and shook her head slightly. He stared at Pawn, his face grim, and his eyes flicked to her. She stared into his eyes. Just stared.
Slowly, Halrac sheathed his blade. Erin turned back to Pawn. He was still shaking. She put a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey. Hey, listen to me. You’re not alone. There are others like you.”
“nONe aRe LIke Me.”
It was true. But not true. Something stirred in Erin’s memory. She looked at Pawn. The first of his kind, the leader of a people who no one trusted, who were unimportant. Who didn’t know…
Memory flickered in Erin’s mind. Not recent memory, but stories. Fragments of something she’d heard long ago, in a quiet place as a child.
Perhaps it was the last name Pawn had spoken. Emmanuel. But Erin remembered, and so she pushed aside the chess board and edged her chair closer next to Pawn. She put one hand on his cool chitin.
“You know, there was once a guy like you. He wanted to save his people, too.”
“ReaLLy?”
His voice was calming down. Erin smiled at Pawn, and sensed Halrac’s eyes on her back.
“Yeah. In fact, I know a story about this guy. He was famous, you know. His names Moses, and a lot of Human kids know about him.”
“What did…what did he do? Who was he?”
“He was…a normal person. Well, not normal. But he didn’t think he’d do anything special, until the day he realized he was different than the people around him. And then he realized he had a people who were being mistreated, who were in need. And he led them.”
That was sort of true. Sort of. Depending on which story you listened to. Which movie you watched. Erin had never watched The Ten Commandments, but she had seen The Prince of Egypt more than once.
“His people were slaves. They were ruled by a harsh king – a Pharaoh. But Moses was called, and so he led his people to freedom.”
Pawn cocked his head at her. His voice returned to its normal pitch.
“Is this an instructional story or a historical narrative?”
Erin paused. She scratched her head and smiled.
“I dunno. It’s just a story. Would you like to hear it?”
He hesitated, and then nodded. So Erin told him a story from childhood.
“Once upon a time, in a place named Egypt, there were two peoples. Both were Humans, but they were…different. One people were called Egyptians, and they had slaves. And the slaves were called Hebrews. And the king of the Egyptians was called the Pharaoh. But he was afraid that the Hebrews would rise up one day, so he ordered every baby boy to be killed. And Moses’ mother didn’t want that to happen. So she found a river – the River Nile – and put Moses in a basket. Then waited until someone found Moses. It was the Pharaoh’s daughter, and she took him into the Pharaoh’s house so Moses grew up as an Egyptian prince when he was really a Hebrew. But one day he discovered who he truly was. It was when he found a burning bush… ”
—-
Erin told the story of Moses, abridged and slightly inaccurately, but from start to finish. Pawn listened quietly until she was done, but when he finished he just shook his head at her.
“It is a good story, but I fear it is not as easy for us. The Antinium are not slaves to our Queen—she is part of the Hive, as are we all. It is just that there is no place for us now, and our purpose…”
He broke off, shaking his head harder.
“Rebellion would only lead to death. Senseless death.”
Erin waved her hands hurriedly and nearly knocked over her chess board.
“Oh, no, no—I didn’t mean the Queen was like the Pharaoh. It’s just a story. A parable. I was just saying that Moses was like a leader, and you’re like a leader.”
He paused.
“It is a good story, but I am no chosen one. Moreover, you say this Moses was chosen by a god. You speak of gods, but I am told the gods are dead.”
Erin hesitated.
“Maybe. I mean, here it seems like that’s true. But I always grew up knowing there was a god. Then later I…well, where I’m from people believe there are gods. People believe they came to earth, like Jesus Christ.”
“Jesus? Is that another Human who led his people?”
It sounded odd to hear an Antinium speak of Jesus. Erin had to smile.
“Yeah, you could say that. He was someone who saved his people. Actually, he saved the Hebrew just like Moses, just after a long time had passed. And he was the son of God! well, depending on who you ask.”
Pawn stared at Erin. Across the room Halrac’s head slowly lifted and he looked over at Erin. He raised his voice and both Antinium and innkeeper looked over.
“The gods are dead. Everyone knows that. But I’ve never heard of a descendant of gods.”
“I uh, well, everyone says it where I come from.”
Erin realized she was on the edge of what Ryoka had warned her about. But it was too late to go back.
“We have gods. Or one god. There are more, but the one I was told about when I was young—I mean, people just call him…God. Or it God. Her God. It’s hard to explain.”
Halrac eyed Erin dubiously, but he actually moved his chair closer.
“Explain that. I’ve always known the gods are dead. Always. And I’ve never heard of one just called…God.”
Explain Christianity? Erin wasn’t sure. But now Pawn was looking at her too, and he’d stopped shaking. So she took a breath and tried.
“Well, they say he—I mean, God—created the earth and everything in it in seven days and did all this stuff. You know, god stuff. He cast out Humans from paradise because we were sinful, and pretty much uh, let the world work for a long time. But his people, his chosen people I mean, he always watched over. That story of Moses—that was one example of how God chose his prophets and messengers to help save them.”
“After they became slaves.”
Halrac snorted decisively.
“Some God.”
Erin had nothing to say to that. But she felt like she owed the religion a tiny bit of defense.
“Well, he did save them eventually. I think it was sort of like a punishment for something. Maybe. Anyways, later he sent his only son to die for our sakes.”
“Our sakes? His son? I do not understand.”
Pawn looked at Erin while Halrac grunted again. And Erin—
Hesitated.
The story of Jesus was on her lips. It wasn’t what Pawn wanted – it wasn’t the story that could help him figure out who the Antinium were. But it was a good story.
Perhaps it was only a story. Maybe it wasn’t. Erin didn’t know.
She didn’t believe. Not anymore. But she’d heard the same stories over and over, and she could repeat them to her listeners.
“Just listen, okay? It gets complicated, but I guess one day, long after Moses had saved the Hebrews, they were suffering in another land. This time under the Romans. And God knew they were in trouble, but he was sort of looking at the entire world, you know? And everywhere he looked he saw sin. So he decided to do something about it. So he looked for good people—Mary of Nazareth and her husband, Joseph of Nazareth, and chose them to raise his son who he would send down from heaven…”
“Heaven?”
Pawn interrupted Erin. He looked at her intently.
“What is ‘heaven’? I know of hell, but I have never heard of heaven.”
Erin wavered.
“Wait a second. How can you know of hell and not heaven? What’s hell over here?”
Halrac was the one to answer. He fiddled with his mug.
“Hell is where the Demons come from. In Rhir—there is a place where
no army has returned. That is what people call hell. Is that what you mean?”
Erin frowned.
“No…hell is more like—well, it’s a place you go when you die, not a location.”
Pawn and Halrac both looked at each other, and then away. Halrac scowled. Erin shook her head.
“Hell isn’t a place. I mean, not a place on earth. Not in this world. It’s the afterlife. The place where bad people go when they die. We go to hell because we sin. We suffer in life because we sin—that’s what the Bible says, anyways.”
“Bible?”
“The…history of all this, I guess. I mean, the history of the Hebrews and their God.”
“Ah. And heaven?”
How could you describe heaven to someone? Erin closed her eyes. She looked at the ceiling, and did her best.
“Heaven is a place where good people go. It’s a place where there’s no pain, no suffering…everyone’s there. You can see your family, your friends, and everything is happy. Forever. That’s what heaven is, I think.”
When she looked back down, Halrac and Pawn were staring at her.
“What? Don’t you believe in life after death?”
Halrac shook his head slowly.
“When I was a lad, I was taught that we’d come back to life after we died. It depended on our class and our level—the higher level we were, the better life we’d have. If we didn’t do much and died with low-level, we’d come back as animals, or worse, monsters. But that’s all.”
“And you, Pawn?”
He was silent for a few minutes.
“The Antinium know of nothing after death. But we do know of death. When an Antinium dies, their memory remains in the Hive. But of the Antinium themselves…nothing. Only a few are kept to return to the Hive in times of need. Klbkch is one such. But even they fade. And in time, all Antinium will die. And after that…”
He looked at Erin.
“They cease to be. That is what happens after the Antinium die.”
She stared at him.
“That’s…not what some Humans believe. They think everyone can go to heaven, if they believe.”
“Everyone? Even an Antinium?”
“I guess so. But let me finish my story. You see, God was sad because we were all sinning—doing bad things. So he sent his son to die for our sakes. Because if he did, all our sins would be forgiven.”
Halrac eyed Erin.
“Like some kind of blood ritual? Magic?”
“No. Redemption. No magic, no ritual. Just forgiveness. It would be a second chance for all of us.”
“A second chance. To do what?”
Erin paused.
“Anything.”
And Pawn looked at her, silently, with the same grave emotionless expression that all the Antinium shared. But there was a spark in his dark eyes, a glimmer of something.
Hope.
So Erin took a deep breath, and reached back. She reached back to childhood, to youth, to innocence and faith. And she told them stories. She told them of a son who died upon a cross to save the world, of a God who created everything and gave law to the lawless. She told the listening adventurer and Antinium parables, stories, and tales of miracles and deliverance.
At some point Olesm knocked his chair over across the room and ran out the door with Ceria and Zevara in hot pursuit. But no one paid any attention. Erin told stories to the listening man, full of skepticism and bitterness, and to the Antinium, lost, afraid, and alone.
And they listened. It was not an [Immortal Moment]. There was nothing immortal in the way Erin would backtrack, or make mistakes or get up and serve another round of drinks. Perhaps because she did not believe.
But there was something there. Something which captured the heart and made Pawn listen, and Halrac stay. And it continued into the night, whispering to the three.
Stories.
Faith.
Religion.
—-
The inn was quiet when Erin finally locked her door and her last guest vanished into the snowy night. Olesm had fled long ago and not come back, and neither had Ceria or Zevara. But Halrac and Pawn had stayed until past midnight, listening to Erin.
The adventurer had gone first, with generous tips for Erin multiplied several times over the normal rate. He’d ignored all her protests, and insisted on it.
Halrac had left after filling his water flask to the brim with Erin’s faerie-flower drink, but he’d walked back towards Liscor without touching it. Instead, he’d stared up at the sky as the Gold-adventurer slowly walked back through the snow.
Pawn looked up too as he made his way back towards the city. He saw only stars and the twin moons overhead. Nothing he hadn’t seen a hundred times before.
But…how many times had Pawn actually looked up at the sky? When he thought about it, it was more than likely he’d looked up less than a hundred times. And he had never paid attention to the shining stars. They had simply been objects, irrelevant parts of his world.
But now Pawn looked up and wondered what lay beyond the stars in the sky. He looked up and wondered if out there, somewhere, there was a place where he could go. A place for the lost like him. A place to be saved.
As he looked up, Pawn felt something in his chest. It was desire, a yearning that came so strongly that the Antinium shuddered. He had never felt such a want in his life, but how it came over him, a fierce desire for something he didn’t have.
Sin. Hell. Slavery. Betrayal.
Erin’s stories stuck in the Antinium’s mind, whispering to him, speaking into his heart.
Redemption, salvation, rebirth. Resurrection. The forgiveness of sins.
His only son.
And—
“Heaven.”
It was just for a second. It was only a hope, the small desire of one who had never known he wanted it. But for one moment, Pawn wished it were all true. And in that moment, he believed.
And as he looked up, the Antinium heard the whisper. It came out of his heart, and then Pawn heard the voice in his mind.
[Acolyte Class Obtained!]
[Acolyte Level 1!]
[Skill – Prayer Obtained!]
It struck the Antinium from above, and he fell to his knees, in the snow and the night. He stared up, and knew.
The night sky hung overhead, silent, distant, but no longer simply the sky. Now there was something behind it. Something made of dreams and hope and belief, but something nevertheless. Pawn believed, and he hoped, and that was enough. It was enough to dream of salvation.
And then there were Gods. Or at least, one.
2.00 H
Ceria woke up in her own bed. She also woke up alone, which was vaguely disappointing.
But not really. She still had mixed feelings about Olesm, and last night had been—
Disappointing. Mostly for herself.
“Am I still a pointy-eared kid fighting over a boy?”
Ceria conjured a bit of snow and then melted it in a bowl. She splashed some of the water on her face and sighed.
“Zevara.”
Ceria was over sixty years old. Not young for a half-Elf and certainly not old for an Elf as far as she knew; she was barely older than a teenager by her people’s standards, and she’d heard that Elves could live for over thousands of years which made her…what? A tadpole?
She’d be lucky if she ever lived past three hundred. Half-Elves grew about one year to every three a Human did. They also died from stupid things just like Humans, so the average half-Elf died before they hit a hundred years. And yes, that meant she was barely twenty by Human standards, but that was also a stupid comparison.
Ceria was over sixty. Some days she felt like the older females, Human, Drake and Gnoll who shook their heads at the youngsters running about. She’d lived and loved and seen countless things over the years, far more than anyone else she knew.
She was old. And not old. Other days Ceria still felt like marching for eight hours, camping in the cold and wet, and then get
ting up to duel a Mothbear in the morning. It was an odd feeling, being caught between both states.
But that was being a half-Elf for you. It had the advantages of both races, but the flaws as well. And that meant Ceria often had Human jealousy and Elven detachment.
She assumed it was her immortal (or close to immortal) heritage that made her eventually push away anyone she liked, but it was a consequence of aging. People, normal people, had no idea of how hard it was.
Some children grew up in days, like Goblins or children forced to fight or provide for themselves or their families. Half-Elves grew up quick too; despite their long lifespan, they didn’t stay as squalling infants any longer than Humans, and they grew to a proper size pretty quick too.
But with that said, some things were different. Ceria had matured to her adult body when she was in her twenties, but puberty had still hit her hard. She’d spent ten years dealing with the worst of hormonal imbalances, uncontrolled magical outbursts and the like.
It was her Human side. Elves didn’t go through puberty, but Humans did, and it messed up her biology. As a consequence, Ceria had quite a lot of experience with failed relationships. She just didn’t want Olesm to be one.
But maybe he should be. Ceria sighed as she combed at her hair with her fingers. She didn’t have money for a comb and she’d lost hers in the crypts.
“Captain of the Watch or Silver-rank adventurer, hm?”
To his credit, Olesm hadn’t seemed particularly interested in both last night. He’d tried to excuse himself while Ceria and Zevara had traded barbs, and then eventually, run for it. He’d locked himself in his house which meant there hadn’t been a happy ending for anyone but him.
Another sigh. Ceria stared at her face in the water’s reflection and felt her stomach rumble. She looked out the window, but it was still dark outside. The sun would crest the mountains soon.
He’d saved her life. And he was nice and considerate and not Human, all of which were important considerations. But he also liked Erin, he had at least one persistent stalker, and he would die long before she did. Assuming Ceria didn’t die at the hands of a monster.
She liked him. But…
