emptiness (narrative) When he looked down at the semi-conscious Barada, his eyes narrowed. Out of all the men, only one survived, and it was the king's man. That seemed fitting in a way. It also seemed suspicious. Had he begged for his life and received mercy. Or was it something else? Time would answer the question. Time, and Barada. There were things that the odd little man could do which astounded him. And now that he had a chance to see those tricks in action, the Grey Rider was interested to see how well they actually worked. Gray Rider. It had been his suggestion, of course, the very concept of Grey Riders. Grey to balance the White. Not black. Black was a color of darkness, an extreme in the same way that the White Riders were extremists. It took a balanced view of the world to set things right. A balanced view, compassion and ruthlessness in equal measure. Now that he had those things the Grey Rider knew this was a time for viciousness.
"We were... overwhelmed..."
"There was only one," the Grey Rider laughed contemptuously.
"Two. One of the mercenaries she hired was a mage."
That merited a moment's consideration. If she had hired a mage, perhaps to cover her tracks, then they could be anywhere. From what Barada said, however, it sounded as though the mage was a warrior and not one of those temple dogs. So, two against how many? Fifteen at least. The Grey Rider's smile turned foul. Tricksome little creature was at his side, suddenly, and Barada knew terror when he saw it in the flesh. His eyes widened magnificently. There were never enough moments in life to stare at the complete fear of a failed underling and revel in it. Sooner or later Barada was going to meet his end. They all did. His usefulness had not yet come to a close. So when the tricksome fellow knelt beside Barada the Grey Rider told him what was to come.
"There are things that can be done to a man," the Grey Rider told him absently. "Things that you wouldn't believe. Monstrous things. Worse than death, worse than life, worse than all the awful things in creation combined together."
"Just kill me and spare me the speech," Barada groaned painfully.
"I'm not going to kill you. What's the most monstrous thing you can do to a man? Take away his purpose. Take away his reason for living. If you don't have a quest, if you don't have a goal, then you're as empty as the space between stars."
Thick fingers, too thick for a man so short, pressed against Barada's scalp. To his credit the man didn't scream. In the past they had, right before they'd died. Or was this a different trick? It was by turns infuriating and revolting, knowing that he worked magics the likes of which the Grey Rider had never heard of or seen. This was something knew. Barada's lips grew thin. In the quiet of the winter snow the Grey Rider could hear his teeth grinding together.
"They took away your purpose, Barada. Money. But it wasn't enough to help you accomplish your mission, anyway, so it hardly matters. I'm simply giving you a new purpose."
What would her face look like, when the Grey Rider finally brought her low? He'd been promised her body as a gift. It wasn't her, particularly, that he coveted. Not as much as the idea of her. The idea that a White Rider could be violated by a Grey Rider, proof that an extreme could never dominate the subjective. When everything in life had only the value that you assigned to it, men found it difficult to become passionate about anything. But the thought of forcing himself on her, killing her while he shamed her, was enough to make his eyes gleam. Barada had long since closed his own eyes. He wasn't ready for a world in which desire could be given or taken on a whim. He wasn't ready to acknowledge the rarity of a thing you couldn't truly control. And he most assuredly was not ready to acknowledge that he'd been controlled, for his whole life. What sort of thoughts went through the head of a man like that?
It made him smile more widely.
"What's the mage's name, Barada?"
"Eragos. Eragos... Feareborne."
"Then this is what you're going to do. Kill Feareborne. Kill the king and that spoiled little brat of his. Then bring me the Rider."
"I won't. I have my money, and I intend to..."
"If you don't have a purpose, if you don't have a goal, you're as empty as the space between stars. And if you're nothing but emptiness clothed in flesh, why should I hesitate to eliminate the flesh?"
"We had a deal."
"You died in that battle, Barada. What you are now, whatever you are, is something entirely new. Something that doesn't care about money."
When his eyes began to shed tears of blood Barada finally screamed. The Grey Rider watched with morbid curiosity. The tricksome little man was showing every tooth, but if it was a grin, the Grey Rider had never seen its equal. They all had a purpose, didn't they? And all of them had to achieve it so they could die.