Stehlen would be waiting. An unpleasant thought. Now he knew how Bedeckt felt after he killed her back in—
The roof fell in as something huge and screaming crashed through it. For an instant, Wichtig thought it was the damned dragon finally come for him. Whatever it was hit the ground and came apart, showering him in yet more gore and blood.
“What the hells was that?” said Wichtig, staring up through the hole in the roof
“Arsehole,” said Bedeckt.
Wichtig glanced at the old man on the floor. Was he talking to me or still raving?
“That was my horse’s name,” said Bedeckt, meeting his eyes.
So, something of the old goat remains. “Good name,” said Wichtig.
Bedeckt laughed and whispered something to the pretty girl. She looked at him like he lost his mind which was funny as Bedeckt was the sanest man Wichtig ever met. Maybe the only sane man.
Why am I alive?
Nothing made sense. How could Stehlen be dead? If she and Lebendig remained lovers, even in life, why did Stehlen chose him over Lebendig?
Wichtig felt the sword, an anchor of bad choices, hanging in his hand. The Greatest Swordsman in the World. It wasn’t just a title, not just a goal. It’s who I am. It was everything. Without it he was nothing. Nothing.
The sword dipped, the bloody tip touching ground. He wanted to drop it, to never hold another sword again.
I killed her. Stehlen was his friend and he killed her.
He saw Opferlamm. She was dead and still, eyes wide and seeing nothing. Gods she was so young. Was she even out of her teens? I was going to— She died following him. She died believing in him. I took her on as an apprentice because I was scared of being alone.
He killed Lebendig.
He killed Stehlen, his friend.
His selfishness killed Opferlamm.
The sword fell from numb fingers.
He hid behind his hands, anguish tearing sobs from him.
No one was walking away from this. Outside a Therianthrope dragon flew around dropping horses on people and some Geborene Geisteskranken pillaged reality with their delusions. A sword was useless here and he had nothing but his petty Gefahrgeist power to face them with.
Beyond these thin walls, an army of corpses fought hordes of demons made of smoke and Wichtig didn’t have a clue as to what the hells all that was about. Pure madness. It looked like the end of the world.
Inside what remained of the farmhouse, Bedeckt’s ravings grew in volume. Wichtig stood motionless, watching Bedeckt through the gap left by missing fingers. His old friend looked so lost, so alone. Even that monstrous axe was nowhere to be seen.
Bedeckt stared past Wichtig and said, “This isn’t real.”
But it was.
It was insane, and it was real.
Wichtig wanted to go to his friend, to stand with him. He wanted to put a comforting hand on that scarred old shoulder, tell him he wasn’t alone. He stood motionless.
Bedeckt was alone.
We’re all alone. It had always been the truth. Even together, even in those rare moment’s of camaraderie, they were each alone. Too afraid to trust. How many times had the three of them charged into dangerous situations? How often had they faced impossible odds and battled their way free? And yet we’re cowards.
Bedeckt, still glaring hatred past Wichtig, roared incomprehensible babble and pushed to his feet, knees wobbling like he’d collapse back to the floor at any moment.
Lowering his hands from his face, Wichtig glanced over his shoulder and saw the Geborene priest.
“Oh.” The Wahnist came for them.
Wichtig felt naked. Where’s my sword?
He’d dropped it. Idiot, he heard Stehlen say.
The beautiful girl with the green eyes spasmed in sudden agony and writhed on the floor, screaming. It looked like something was trying to claw its way free of her chest. Another younger girl he had somehow not noticed before, crouched nearby, eyes locked on Bedeckt.
Claw its way free.
Wichtig remembered his conversation with Nacht. Morgen’s Reflection told Wichtig the Geborene godling sent a Wahnist—he couldn’t remember the man’s name—to ensure they all died. The Holy Exorcist, that’s what Nacht called the man. He said the man drove people’s inner demons from them, that they clawed their way free. And judging from what looked to be fighting its way out of the green-eyed girl, she had a big one.
Bedeckt stumbled toward the priest, moving to stand between the Exorcist and the woman. He screamed, fists clenched and shaking, face purple with rage.
“This is wrong,” yelled Bedeckt. “This is all wrong.” He lifted his fists to the sky. “I AM SANE!”
The world stopped, a held breath.
As one, the dead toppled boneless to the mud.
The demons, smoky wraiths of nightmare, came apart like ash in a wind storm.