And there and then, Erik Dornay, staring in mute horror, nearly dropped his sword and fled, for the ghost, without knowing it, had done just that.
"A knight!.. You are a knight…" Dornay stared at the ghost's ruined face — the pale, drawn skin, the boils, and the scarlet patches.
"Plague!" Erik's sword arm extended as straight as possible. "Keep back!"
Rennard moved closer.
"Where is your brotherly concern?" he mocked. "I am in need. The plague still thrives within me, gnaws at me even after death. Surely, it is for you to aid a comrade!" He opened his arms, as if to embrace Dornay.
"May the gods forgive me!" Erik leapt forward and thrust his sword between Rennard's helm and breastplate.
The young knight's aim was true, so much so that the ghost expected to feel the death blow. Then, to Rennard's bitter amusement and Erik's disbelief, the blade passed through without obstruction.
The young Solamnian dropped his sword and stared at his hand, as if IT were somehow to blame for the impossible sight he had just witnessed.
"Had it been my choice," Rennard said, "the blade would have sheared my head from my body, once and for all ending this accursed existence!"
"Paladine save me!" Erik cried.
"Paladine cannot save you. He did not save ME," the ghost knight hissed. "That was for another, darker lord to do. Morgion it was, who finally heard my plea, but he demanded a heavy price."
"Who — " The young knight pulled himself together. "Who are you, wraith? Why does your tragic existence haunt me now, in my grief?"
"You should know. It was YOU who called me. You — with your song."
"The… song?" Erik eyed the phantom, more perplexed than he was anxious. He frowned. "I am no foul necromancer, like the followers of Chemosh!"
"Nonetheless, it was your song." Rennard circled Dornay, his eyes never leaving the mortal. "The one you sang about… Huma."
"Huma? Huma of the Lance?"
"Just Huma to me, a knight who believed and, because he believed, fought as few others could. I knew him well, you see, even aided in his training. That was before…"
Erik's eyes were wary and thoughtful. One did not rise to the Order of the Rose without being able to adapt to the unknown, even if that included the undead.
Rennard guessed what he was thinking. "If you have a way, Mortal, to rid yourself of me, by all means try. I would welcome rest after so long. I am tired of running, of fighting in futility." Here, at last, Rennard could not hide his own despair. "Tired of the pain."
"Your name, Ethereal One. You still have not said."
The flickering flames of the tiny campfire caught the ghost's attention. He reached down and passed his hand through the fire. "You see? Nothing, not even now." He straightened. "My name? You probably would not know it. I daresay that it was stricken from the rolls when the truth of my betrayal was known. I had, after all, murdered one grand master and attempted to kill his successor. Although many servants of the Dark Queen fell by my sword, I betrayed the plans of the knighthood whenever possible and caused the deaths of many men by my actions, all in the name of Morgion, dread Lord of Disease and Decay."
Dornay gasped. "I know you! I know the tales that they whisper, even now!" His handsome face twisted. "Rennard the Oathbreaker!"
Bowing, mocking, the ghost replied, "I thought myself forgotten. Yes, I have the dishonor of being him."
Erik snatched his sword from the ground, held it before him. His eyes were narrow slits, his breathing rapid. He began muttering under his breath.
Rennard recognized the litany and was amused. "Exorcising demons? You are not so well-versed for one of your rank. I doubt I will be so easily dismissed, even if you should happen upon the proper chant."
"Why does the ghost of a traitor and murderer visit me? Do the gods think you will stop me in my chosen course? Lucien's death demands justice! He was murdered needlessly, and I will see that his killers pay! Now begone!"
Rennard turned his horrific face toward the mortal. "I would very much like to be gone, Erik Dornay, but not to where I have been since my death. Peace is what I ask… peace and a sip of water." He stared into the flame, recalling the past. "I want nothing to do with you, but something has drawn me here. This is not the first time I have heard the song you sang tonight, a song about him. Huma never would have believed it. He would have shaken his head — "
"Do not speak his name!" Erik pointed the useless sword at the ghost as if he still intended somehow to run Rennard through. "He was everything that you were not, traitor! He was everything that I wanted to be!"
Wanted to be? thought the ghost. "And so you no longer desire to be like him?"
The young knight stiffened, then lowered his sword. "I cannot, not now, not after I kill them." His gaze strayed to the woods beyond. "So much has changed since the Cataclysm. At first they begged for our help. Then, with a swiftness unmatched even by the wind, the rumors began! Some of the rumors were not without foundation, but to blame the knighthood as a whole is unthinkable! If we were spared the brunt of the disaster, surely it meant that we were Paladine's chosen! We should have been their guides on the path of recovery. Instead, the scum we tried to protect turned on us. 'Look!' they cried. 'Ansalon shakes and quivers, people die, and the knights are untouched!' "
The young Solamnian laughed harshly. "Some even claimed we had conspired with the gods, for it was Ergoth, our ancient tyrant, and Istar, our magnificent rival, who suffered most. Lucien tried to reason with them — the ignorant offal. And they dragged him down from his horse and murdered him!"
None of this made much sense to Rennard. "And was the knighthood responsible for this… this Cataclysm?"
Erik glowered. "How can you ask that? You were a knight!"
"Yes," said Rennard dryly, "I was a knight."
"I swear that we were not!" Dornay's voice shook. "It could never be!"
"I see"
After a pause, Erik asked, "Did you really know him?"
"Very well." Rennard stood silently, his mind a whirlpool of memories. He stared at the mortal before him and saw Huma. The similarities were more than skin deep.
Am I supposed to turn him along the proper path? Rennard asked whoever had sent him. I was a puppet in life. Am I to be one in death? Better he make his own destiny, whatever the consequences! At least the choice will be his!
Rennard saw, to his surprise, that the young Knight of the Rose was staring at him, not in fear and loathing, but in desperate need. "Huma… What would he have done? Would he have understood? Lucien was my friend, more than friend… he was dearer than any brother. Please, specter, tell me, what would Huma — ?"
"Huma would have done what Huma would have done," Rennard interjected quickly. Thinking of Huma stirred memories and emotions that the ghost refused to acknowledge. "Just as you will do what you will do."
"That is no answer!" Dornay said angrily. "Would he have understood my need for vengeance? Tell me!"
I will not do this! Rennard told those who'd sent him. Dornay's path must be his own! What course his life takes will be his choice, not that of some interfering deity!
The ghost thought he heard whispers then, but perhaps they were only his own thoughts, speaking back to him:
Would you condemn anyone, even your worst enemy, to a fate such as yours?
A fate such as mine? Erik's thirst for vengeance could hardly be as great a crime as those I committed. But, Rennard could not help wondering, once he's done murder, he might sink lower still. One day, he might find himself trapped in a futile flight from those he killed and who, because of him, would never be able to rest either.
The "Song of Huma" ran through his mind.
"Huma," Rennard whispered. The man who was now legend never abandoned me, he even looked up to me. Huma — the man, not the legend — had been there in the end, trying to save me from myself. Rather than face him, I took the coward's way out. I slit my own throat.