Talarius had killed the other fiend in the same manner. The only really effective manner, stake through the heart, cut off the head, a day of sunlit exposure. Failing the sun, as had been the case here in this grey and dingy land, a dousing with Holy Waters and then a burning would suffice. The ashes had to be scattered to the four quarters, of course. Not trivial. Not pleasant. But far better than this. Burning ghouls, former people, at the stake.
The other villagers, the survivors, hadn’t been too receptive to the idea. Eventually he’d managed to convince them that there was no other choice. No cure. No release but death in flame. It had taken all of his most persuasive talents; he hated using them in this manner, but there was no other choice. Tiernon knew if there were, Talarius would have found it. Found it twelve years ago. Perhaps the worst were the mothers, knowing their sons or daughters were damned, both on Astlan and in the hereafter, and the only possible hope of avoiding the second was to burn horribly at the stake.
They were survivors though. They’d lived through one of the worst nightmares a village could go through. They’d survived. In the end, Talarius was sure that that experience, more than any charisma on his part, had persuaded them as to the necessity. They were a brave folk, even though none had come to join him on this vigil. He didn’t blame them. He didn’t want to be here, watching. Someone had to though. If not only to bid farewell to these poor souls, then to also assure none escaped.
The fires continued to burn, but Talarius could hear no more sounds from the stakes. He could see no more contorting bodies. It was nearing the end. All that was left was to watch these remaining fires burn out. Watch, as he had the day before when he’d burnt the bodies of sixteen of his men. Twelve had been dead. Killed outright. The other four had been in the same Tiernon-forsaken state as these sad creatures. He felt the loss of each of those men as if they were a part of himself.
He couldn’t let that loss stop him, however. He had a job to do. People to save, a mission. He would meet the challenges set forth before him. He would meet and conquer them, as he had in the past, as he would in the future. While he would grieve in his own way, if he faltered or halted in his mission, Tiernon alone knew how many would pay the price of his hesitation. How many had already paid in the past. Melissance... Trian... Kiernon... Baxtion. Talarius shook his head. He would lead men wherever the right took them. He would never let his own inactions allow another innocent to come to harm again, not if he had any say in it.
The last of the fires had burned out. Twilight was beginning to set in. It was hard to tell in this dark land where the sun never seemed to shine, however the general light level seemed to be decreasing. Talarius trudged back towards the village. He would get the villagers to bury the remains of the ashes, or whatever they cared to do with their loved ones. The ashes were not his concern. He’d inspected every smoldering burned out heap of ashes. Inspected them to insure that nothing evil had escaped. Clean. Clean and pure at last.
The mud and wattle huts of the village seemed to almost blend into the brown and grey landscape and sky. He wondered how the villagers could go on here, day after day. They did though. Perhaps that was what he most admired in the human spirit. The ability to carry on, no matter what. To fight against the odds, to grit one’s teeth and hang on against all that the gods threw at one.
As he entered the village, the mayor, or what passed for a mayor, came out to tug pitifully at his cloak. “Sir, Lord Talarius? Is it over?” Talarius looked sadly down into the man’s frightened eyes. The weight of pain and fear seemed to bow the man over, as if he bore a great burden. Given all the troubles the village had undergone, he probably did.
“Not Lord, Gasmon. I told you that before. I am simply Talarius. No more, no less. If you wish, you may call me Sir Talarius, but that is the highest honor I aspire to. I am but a man, like yourself. And yes. It is over. Finally over.”
Talarius looked back over his shoulder to the charred remains of this man’s friends. The man’s wife even. “It is over. They have all gone to what awaits them in the afterlife. I pray that many of them have been forgiven and will find the rewards they so otherwise deserved.” He rested his hand gently on the man’s shoulder. He smiled gently, but sadly, down at the mayor as he said. “You may go and do as you see fit with the remains of your people. No more harm will come from them or to you.” The mayor nodded his thanks and quickly scurried off to gather his fellow villagers.
