The Sword Of Bayne Omnibus

by Ty Johnston

  They turned. They stared.

  The light was as bright as the sun, and lingered upon the horizon as if it were the sun. But if it were that lone star, it was dying, and it's death was a devastating one. Light exploded from a central source, blazing forth in a straight yellow beam that catapulted to the heavens as far as a man could see. The pillar of light reached up and up and up before disappearing into the blackness of the night and whatever space lay beyond.

  Then the light was gone. In a blink, it vanished, leaving behind images dancing in the eyesight of the warrior and the priest.

  "What ... what has happened?" Bayne asked.

  "A vanquishment," Pedrague said.

  "Whose?"

  "Let us see."

  Once more, the two walked.

  The dark ground stretched beneath their traveling feet as the aftermath to apocalypse, and as a forerunner to further desolation. With each step a growing sensation of dread built itself within Bayne's chest as if he were learning true fear.

  "I have another question for you," the warrior said as they crossed the dead earth.

  "Yes?"

  "Since my confrontation with the latest Tallerus bore, my emotions have been in turmoil," Bayne said. "This is not like me. I am steadfast. I am not the ..."

  His words trailed away.

  "What?" Pedrague asked. "Confused? Unsure?"

  "I am not emotional," Bayne answered.

  "All men are emotional," the priest said, "though they may often limit themselves to which emotions."

  The god glanced to his companion. "Possibly true, but I do not feel it describes myself in these circumstances. It seems something else is at work here. Have I been magicked? And was it by you?"

  "If you have been placed under a spell," Pedrague said, "it was not a spell cast by myself. It would not surprise me if Ashal were involved, but he has been silent to me for a long time now. Have you noticed any other ... changes?"

  Bayne thought on the matter. He came to the conclusion there had indeed been one other change of note.

  "I believe I have the ability to affect the very elements," the warrior said.

  "In what way?"

  Bayne tried to explain. "On several occasions I have found myself ... begrimed. Each time a rain came upon me, a light one but with enough strength to cleanse myself without any effort upon my part."

  "Did you consciously ask for the rain?"

  "No."

  Pedrague had no immediate answer. They walked in silence for some while, the light of the distant fires on the horizon growing larger in their sight.

  Eventually, "Perhaps you have this ability, but are not aware of it," the priest said.

  "That has occurred to me," Bayne said. "But I only noticed this rain after my return from the world of Marnok."

  "Strong emotion can sometimes give us strengths once unknown," Pedrague said. "Maybe what happened to you there has opened a door within your mind."

  "But Marnok mentioned no such powers to me," Bayne pointed out.

  "Perhaps he did not know of them," the priest said with a shrug. "Just because he was one of your creators does not mean he fully comprehended what he had created."

  Bayne pondered those words for some time, the two once more traveling in quiet. Then, "Fair enough."

  Then, as if it had neared without notice, the two were standing before the wall of flame, a wall that reached above their heads and flickered in silence.

  They stared.

  "What now?" Bayne asked.

  "We go through."

  There was not a hesitation. Bayne stepped into the fire. He had done so before without terror and without harm. He did so again.

  And came out on the other side, his comrade at his side.

  The moon and the glow of the eerily hushed blaze revealed a gray land stretching forward, low hills lay on the far horizon. Less than a hundred yards away were huddled several cloaked figures.

  "Who are they?" Bayne asked, pointing ahead.

  "Those who will confront you one day," Pedrague replied. “Would you like to see them?”

  “I think that would be against your dictum of providing too much knowledge.”

  Pedrague stared out across the expanse to the gathering of individuals. “I don't believe a mere visual sighting would be crossing the line.”

  They moved forward gradually, each step slow as if almost pained.

  Nearing the cluster of figures, Bayne found their features beginning to take shape, though there seemed to be a thin, gray veil across his vision, as if he were seeing these people through a dirty pane of glass. Thus his image of them was not perfect, but shaded.

  A man lay on the ground, a large man with long blonde hair. Lerebus. Though from what Bayne could make out, the northerner was older and wore a thin beard and mustache so pale as to be almost white. Lerebus did not move, and his eyes were closed as if he were in death.

  Of the two figures kneeling above Lerebus, one was a priestly figure much like Pedrague. His hair was cut short and he was garbed in robes of white that were splashed with dust and dirt. This fellow's face appeared somewhat familiar to Bayne, but he could not remember from where he recognized those features. There was also a slight glow about the man in white, almost angelic.

  Then Bayne's gaze shifted to the third figure.

  And he stopped walking forward.

  Pedrague halted at his side. “Is there something wrong?”

  The third man was the opposite of the one in white. Everything about him was black. His cloak, his hair, his garb. Even the sword hanging from one of his hands was black from the pommel to the end of the blade. Darkest of all were the fellow's eyes. He looked up at Bayne, and Bayne felt himself swirling in a pool of madness and anger and hate. Those eyes were as hard as Bayne's own, and filled with more animosity.

  For the first time in his known existence, Bayne flinched from site of another man.

  “Take me from this place, Pedrague,” he said. “I have seen all I want to see.”

  “As you wish,” the priest said.

  Bayne's head swam and dozens of twinkling lights buzzed within his vision. He closed his eyes and shook his head to push the images away. For a moment it felt as if he were standing aboard a rocking ship, his feet swaying beneath him, but then slowly, gradually, he felt himself upright. He dared to open his eyes.

  They were standing in the cave once more, though now the candles had died and the fire behind Pedrague had burnt itself down to a natural size little bigger than a campfire.

  “Why did you show me that vision?” the warrior asked the priest.

  Pedrague started, then broke off. It was as if he meant to say one thing, then caught himself. Finally, “Some of it was my own curiosity. I wished to see a particular ... day to come.”

  “And the rest?” Bayne asked.

  “I wanted you to have a glimpse of your future.”

  “It looked much like my past.”

  “Yes, it did,” Pedrague said. “But there is more. I had expressed to you there was another option besides us two entering combat or your going into exile. Before presenting that other option, I wanted you to know some of what was in store for you.”

  “You mean to send me to the future?” Bayne asked.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Pedrague said.

  “To what end?”

  The priest sighed as if resigned to a fate he wished were otherwise. “For your own redemption, Bayne.”

  The warrior did not know what to say. He could merely stare back, his dark eyes probing for answers from the center of scarred flesh.

  “As Ashal said, you are not a force for evil,” Pedrague said. “It might seem such, but that is not the case. Verkanus, now that was a man of true evil. You, Bayne, have been tempted, forced into temptation by the likes of Verkanus and this Marnok. You could have accepted Marnok's offer of kingship and godhood, or upon your return you could have sought out the immortal Verkanus and joined with him. Another option would have bee
n for you to pronounce your godhood here in this world, then bring suffering to those who would not bow to you. Instead, ultimately, you came to me. Why you did so, I believe is beyond your own reasoning.”

  Bayne jumped in. “I wished to let you know I was still living, and to settle anything that was between us.”

  “In other words, a sign of friendship,” Pedrague said, nodding. “In your search for me, as bloody as it was, your ultimate goal was still to find the final link you had to another being. You wished to continue our relationship.”

  “I wished to conclude our relationship.”

  “Perhaps that is what you believed,” Pedrague said, “and perhaps a part of you still believes it. But if that were the case, you could have left here at any time. For that matter, you must have known my reception would not have been welcoming of your most recent undertakings. Combat you likely expected. But it is not what you found.”

  “No, it is not,” Bayne said, “and I have to admit some confusion. I do not understand much, especially what you have planned for me. I am tired of not understanding. It seems my life is always controlled by others.”

  “And you wish to change that?”

  “I do.”

  “Then, as I said, there is another option.”

  “Which is?”

  Pedrague paused, as if uncertain of going forward with the conversation. Then, “Bayne, for nearly forty years, since the death of Ashal's worldly form, I have been working on a major project, a collection of writings based upon Ashal's life and his teachings. I am near to the end of my work. All that remains is one final chapter.”

  “Do I play a role in these writings?”

  “A minor one thus far,” Pedrague said. “After all, you were present the last time I had actual contact with Ashal.”

  “You hint there is more to come for me in this work of yours.”

  “There can be,” the priest said. “It will depend upon whether or not you are willing to accept the destiny I offer you here today.”

  Bayne exploded. “Blast it, man! Tell me! You have hinted enough. What is it you would have of me?”

  “Sleep,” Pedrague said. “A long sleep.”

  “Sleep?”

  “For centuries.”

  The swordsman growled. “Again, I do not understand.”

  “Today was not the first time I have looked ahead to days to come,” Pedrague explained. “I have looked many, many times, in hopes of giving credence to this final, revelatory chapter I must write.”

  “And what have you seen?”

  Pedrague stared at the ground for a moment as if deciding whether or not to speak, then, “There is a king, far in the future, who will rise up and challenge all nations. He will be seemingly all powerful, invulnerable. He will draw worshipers to him as if he were a god. And he will rain down terror and blood across all lands, slaying and crushing all who oppose him.”

  “What has this king to do with me?”

  “I believe you are the king.”

  Bayne's face went blank. He stood dumbstruck.

  “Or you can become this king,” Pedrague went on. “Looking into the future is a tricky thing. People can change, and this can change events. I am not totally certain of what will come, but I have seen images of the direction the world will take. The king I mentioned, I call him the Dark King of the North in my writings, I believe his role is for you to fill, Bayne. I am more positive of it than ever after our brief travel today. That one fellow, he looked at you with no lack of hate.”

  “The man in black.”

  “Yes, he.”

  “He seemed to know me,” Bayne said, “and as you pointed out, there was no love in his eyes.”

  “True enough. Which is another reason I believe you will be this Dark King of the North.”

  “Am I to understand, then,” Bayne said, “that you are offering to put me under a magical sleep, one in which I will not wake for a lengthy period of time? Then when I wake, I will take the mantle of this Dark King?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  Bayne stood, considering. He had sought solitude, but part of him reveled in combat. Pedrague was offering him combat galore, it seemed. Why would a man of peace make such an offering?

  “Before I could agree to such, I have questions needing answered,” the warrior said.

  “If I can answer them, I will do so.”

  Bayne plowed ahead. “First. I saw Lerebus at the feet of those men from the future. Why was he there?”

  “That you would have to ask of him,” Pedrague said with a flat, ungiving face.

  Bayne nodded. “Very well. Perhaps I will.”

  “Your next question?”

  “The man in white. He felt familiar to me. Who is he?”

  “A powerful mage,” Pedrague answered. “That is all you need know.”

  Bayne's eyes narrowed. “So far your answers are not very forthcoming.”

  “I am answering what I can as best I can without lying to you,” the priest said.

  Bayne shrugged. Why not? It was not as if anyone else had ever provided him with straightforward answers. Still, Bayne felt he was being manipulated. But he would play this through as far as he could. Perhaps Pedrague would eventually provide an answer that was not so fraught with excuses. “Very well.”

  “Further questions?”

  “You have told me repeatedly I am not a force for evil,” Bayne said, “but it seems to me this Dark King figure is a force for evil. Explain.”

  Pedrague's eyes brightened. “Ah. The truth is, to those who live in those future times, the Dark King will seem to be a force for evil. In fact, however, he is not. He is merely a force of reckoning. Without him, the likes of Verkanus would reside upon the world forever, and that would be a far darker and evil fate. The Dark King will bring death and pain for a time, but afterward there will be a world much changed and much improved.”

  “Improved how?”

  “In many ways. Morally, for one thing.”

  “Are you suggesting men will be more upright with one another?”

  “Yes. And there will be other, better embellishments upon the world.”

  “So this Dark King character is an end-times figure?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Pedrague said, “though I don't expect the world itself to actually come to an end, nor for those times to finish off the human race. A time of heavy suffering must come, and only then will humanity learn the lessons it needs to grow beyond its current state of pettiness.”

  “And foolishness.”

  The priest grinned. “Exactly.”

  Bayne nodded. “That last part sounds to my liking. Doing away with the fools is a good thing.”

  Pedrague only smiled in return.

  “But this leaves me one last question,” Bayne said.

  “Which is?”

  “Why are you doing all this?” Bayne asked. “Why are you giving me this option?”

  Now the priest sighed. “There are many reasons, Bayne. For one, I don't want us to become enemies, yet I cannot have you running loose in the world today. In the future you would have a role to fulfill, a place in the world more attuned to what you seek. I fear it might not bring the peace for which you long, but you would have a better chance of finding it in those times than you would the here and now.”

  Bayne pondered. Then, “What you offer is little different than what Verkanus and Marnok gave me. I lost years of my life, of my memories, because of Marnok's exile of me from his world. Then Verkanus played me for a fool, and your own god has used me to his ends. This I see. This I cannot deny. I lost another twenty years traveling back and forth from this world to that other. Thus I see little reason to comply with your suggested exile.”

  Pedrague sighed. “There is a difference, Bayne, a large difference. I offer this to you. Verkanus, Marnok, they gave you no opportunity to decide for yourself. I do.”

  “How do I know it is not your god speaking through you?” Bayne asked. “How do
I know he is not meddling with me yet again?”

  “You do not,” Pedrague said. “I can offer no evidence against such an idea. But I will say this, of all those who have used you, have you ever truly felt Ashal was one of them?”

  “It has occurred to me, yes.”

  “You know for a fact Verkanus used you,” Pedrague said, “and it is obvious Marnok did much the same. But do you have any evidence Ashal wielded you as a tool, as a pawn? I was there on the mountain with you, and I remember him informing you that you were a natural force, a balancing force, for this world. But I do not remember him implying you had no choice in the matter.”

  The priest was right, Bayne had to admit. It seemed evident much of what he had experienced on his first climb of the mountain had been illusion or some other form of trickery. He had thought at the time that Ashal or Verkanus had been responsible for those illusions, but neither had confirmed the matter. Ashal had suggested the events that had taken place had been a teaching tool, a way of preparing Bayne for the future, but the god had never admitted to having created the illusions.

  In fact, now that Bayne's memory was traveling back, Ashal himself had warned Bayne against being used by others.

  “Your god might be guiltless in the matter,” the warrior finally said.

  Pedrague nodded. “So I believe.”

  Bayne went on. “I remember your god saying this was a time for men to find their own way, to choose their own destiny, that it was not a time for gods to interfere.”

  “Yes, I believe he did say as such,” Pedrague said.

  “Then, if I am a god of sorts, it would seem this is not my time,” Bayne said, looking into his friend's eyes. “Perhaps I should take your offer and sleep until it is my time.”

  There now were tears in the priest's eyes. “Yes, I think it so.”

  Bayne was confused, and his features told so. “Why do you cry?”

  “Because I am loosing you all over again,” Pedrague said. “I waited in this cave for years for your return. Now here you are and it appears you will be leaving again.”

  Bayne snickered. “You show a tenderness for one who does not deserve it.”

  Pedrague used the sleeve of his robes to wipe away his tears. “You might be right.”