PRYDE'S CHOICE
by
Kevis Hendrickson
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or any third-party publishers.
Pryde's Choice
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2011 Kevis Hendrickson
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Pryde’s Choice
I can remember the look in her eyes the day I killed her. There was nobility I had not witnessed in the gaze of the mightiest of kings or virtuous of knights, eyes that were bright enough to have been formed from the very flames of the sun. Otherworldly was her gaze, too—and sad. She had entranced me with her eyes that were so remarkable to behold that it seemed forbidden for me to take even a glimpse at them. And my own vision was burned for it. How those eyes haunted me now—those all-seeing eyes with the golden sheen that singed my soul like switch-eating flame.
But my fate was decided the day I saw those eyes, a pitiful fate for a man who had shown his victim no pity. It did not matter to me that my victim was unarmed or growing with child. For I yearned for her death with such desire that the thought of it made my blood race. To kill this beautiful creature was all that mattered to me. So little did I think of the consequences of my actions when I slew her; with the bright edge of my sword I slaughtered her like the ones who had slaughtered my family. It was with vengeance in my heart that I struck her. I had imbued all my hatred of her kind in the single merciless blow that sent her to her death. When I slew her, the memory of my dead wife's face came back to me with frightening clarity. Then I cried out in horror. For I would never again look into my wife's gaze or feel her warm caress. Nor would I ever again hear the sound of her voice or my children's laughter. It was because of the cruel lords of the woods that I would never see them again. For they—the Gaiad—had killed them.
Or so I thought.
I was so blinded by my rage that it never occurred to me I could be wrong. But how could I know the Gaiad were not responsible for the death of my family? How could I know they were innocent of the crimes against me? I had always loathed them, as I did all immortal beings: the lords of the woods, the Gaiad, and their brethren-race, the Elves. For they walked the earth as though they were Gods and Men were beneath their notice. ''Make way for the Elf-lords!'' they cried. ''Behold the Gaiad!'' Long have Men held them in fear and reverence. But I hated them, as did my father and his father before him, and so on. It was always this way. I had inherited the hate of many generations and passed it on to my children in turn. It was for this reason that I was doomed.
It all began when I had returned from a lengthy sojourn in another country to find that my home had been razed to the ground and that my wife and children were brutally slain. I was thereafter possessed by a madness that did not leave me until many days afterwards on the ill-fated evening when I chanced upon an unwary Gaiad-maiden as she traveled alone through the woods with only a young mare. I commanded her to reveal to me the whereabouts of her kingdom so that I could exact my revenge upon her folk for their crimes against me. But the maiden would not speak. So I fell upon her with my sword out of hate of the Gaiad whom I had blamed for the slaying of my family. Such was the strife between our two races that many skirmishes had been occurring as of late and I could not fathom then that anyone but the Gaiad would be at fault. Nigh a week had passed since I went in search of the Gaiad whom I thought committed this grievance against me. But it was my own ruin I had wrought when I slew the maiden. Alas, a man's hate can make him do fell things and thus his reward is often bitter.
A day passed before I was fell upon by the Gaiad as they had espied the murder of their maiden with their Long-Sight. They would have slain me for killing her, but I had used all my craftiness to elude them. I was yet in service of my lord King Harr's army and was versed in the art of warfare. So I set many traps for the Gaiad during their pursuit of me. And I knew the woods well. Thus was began their long hunt of me. I flew like the wind upon my trusty mount, Arthos. But the Gaiad-lords gave me bitter chase. Many days in the wilderness I spent in flight. Ever was I cold, tired, and hungry. Many times I escaped the ones who hunted me, flying ever south or west, and survived one danger after another, when somehow they would always discover my trail. Such were the powers bestowed the Gaiad that they could scry my whereabouts even from afar. Thus, it seemed to me that I would never elude them in spite of my cunning.
As fate would have it—I wouldn't.
After many weeks in which winter was at its bitterest, my luck ran out. For my pursuers came upon me at unawares one night as I slept beneath the gnarled branches of an aged rowan tree. First, the Gaiad-lords stripped me of my sword. Then, they made a bond for my hands and blindfolded me. Thereafter, they took me to their kingdom somewhere in the midland realm. I was brought before their chieftain who declared that I was to stand trial for the murder of the Gaiad-maiden. Such spite had I for the Gaiad that I did not submit to them even when I knew my life would be forfeit because of my defiance. A day and a night passed before I was found guilty and sentenced to death by their chieftain.
For many days I sat in darkness wondering when the Gaiad would have me executed. But one night, as I wept alone in my cold cell, a maiden came to me. Though grim of heart, I could not help but become transfixed by her for her beauty was as none that any daughter of Men possessed. Yea, she was fairer than even the brightest gem I would dare say. Her tresses were of the hue of the evergreen and her flesh like that of polished ivory shining with the brilliance of the sun. Her mystical radiance illuminated my dark cell. And her eyes burned in the darkness about me like a pair of bright green flames. She had come to visit me, yearning to hear why I had slew a maiden of her folk. These were the first words she spoke to me in a voice that sung like the Lark:
''Why dost thou weep? For thy tears are a bitter-most sight unto me.''
But I accosted her with a crude reply. Such was my anger then.
''Why should you care for the tears of a man who has slain your kind, maiden of the cruel folk?''
''Art thou not named folk-slayer? Spawn of a baseborn race? Why should I not come to thee? A creature most reviled by mine own people. Yet, as I look upon thee, I sense thou art not so black of heart as thou appearest.''
''Is it not enough that your lords have made of me a spectacle among your people? I am a trophy of which they take delight in abusing. A man whom they deem less fit of life than a wild dog, even. Or is that not what they say?''
''They say a great many things. But I am come hither only to hearken to thy speech, be it foul or fair. The doomed should require no less than to own a willing ear.''
''Yet, here you are, like the gluttonous crow eager to pick the flesh from carrion. But that I will suffer less than your folk's pitiless speech! For by their cruelty am I now made widower and childless. Even my freedom is lost to me. Yet, am I to suffer y
our interrogation as well? To that I say, nay also! You shall not uncover my innermost thoughts were you to prick my nails with hot iron or flay the flesh from my bones. The cruel folk of the woods shall not win this victory, trifle though it may be. For not in vain is the cruelty of your folk made famous in all the lands of the North.''
The maiden assumed her silence then, gazing at me with her piercing green eyes from the other side of the rusty bars that held me shut in my cell. Then as she turned away, I began to weep again. I could see the grief in her eyes. Was it possible that this beautiful creature grieved for me?
''See. It is thy tears now that are not in vain. I know not what thou callest thyself, but I name thee Pryde. For thou art like many other of thy race, of haste to speak and less slow to thought, or thou wouldst know that I am thy friend. Anon wilt thou die for thy slaying of my kin. But to that I say, keep thee well until then. Thy life might be forfeit, but thy will is thine own to master. Wouldst thou reveal the matter that made thee slay mine own sister? I think not. So I will trouble thee no further.''
''She was your sister?''
''Dearest to me was my sister, Kirðral, Chieftain's daughter, whom thou didst slew. Yet, she did