[ IP ] The Black Blade .

`` There were three of them, father. Sisters, clothed in green leaves with hair as golden as the sun and a crown like antlers upon their queen's head.'' 
 
 The priest nodded along silently, his eyes on the barred window of the cell. 
 
 `` It was strange how lightly they dressed, but it seemed they bathed in summer even as the forest around them was covered in snow. A waterfall flowed freely from their rock, surrounded by such coloured lights.'' 
 
 `` They were beautiful, then, as the best lies often are.'' 
 
 Sigmund looked at the priest strangely, his eyes a shock of white. With a glance at the crucifix on the wall behind him, he regained some composure. 
 
 `` They sang to me, such a beautiful song, though I did not know the tongue.'' Sigmund's voice was harsh and he swallowed drily. `` Then they offered me the blade. Told me I had a great destiny.'' 
 
 `` The... golden blade?'' asked the priest, passing Sigmund a skin of fresh spring water from a fold in his robe. The prisoner drank greedily. 
 
 `` Yes,'' he replied with a deep exhale. `` The golden blade, carved with such beautiful designs and a hilt as white as snow.'' Sigmund's eyes fell to the floor. `` They say it looks different now.'' 
 
 `` I'm told it always did. Black the blade and black the deed, so the song goes.'' The priest reached out to touch Sigmund's arm. `` Why did you do it?'' 
 
 Sigmund stared at the hand touching him, but did not move away. After a long silence, he spoke. 
 
 `` The sisters gave me a golden blade and promised me a great destiny on the eve of battle. My heart swelled and I knew. I must stay near to the young king, to... protect him and protect the realm.'' 
 
 He made faltering eye contact with the priest before dropping his gaze to the ground. 
 
 `` I saw a demon. In the midst of battle. All flames and bones and stinking of filth. I swear to you, the ground darkened and fouled wherever it stood.'' 
 
 The priest nodded kindly. `` Yet no other man saw such.'' 
 
 `` No.'' Sigmund was hoarse. `` Only me.'' 
 
 `` As no other man saw the golden blade, or the... these sisters.'' 
 
 `` I was bewitched.'' Sigmund's voice had become flat now, and his eyes hollow. `` I was bewitched and killed the king, the boy king. I... murdered him.'' 
 
 The priest was silent for a moment. 
 
 `` You saw things few men ever do, Sigmund. That few even have the eyes to see. There were... forces at work beyond your control. You are no more to blame for the boy's death than the blade in your hand.'' 
 
 The priest pulled something out from another hiding place in his robe. 
 
 `` You were an instrument in a larger game, no more of a murderer than this knife.'' 
 
 The blade in the priest's hand was crude, a simple jagged hunk of obsidian, but Sigmund's eyes lit up with wonder at the sight. The priest laid it down on the small table between them. 
 
 `` I want you to think on that, Sigmund. You can not blame the tool for its task. In the wrong hands, a simple blade can do terrible things.'' The priest put one hand on Sigmund's shoulder and opened the palm of his other. `` In the right hands, it can shape history.'' 
 
 The priest smiled at Sigmund and rose without another word. He knocked the door three times and was permitted exit by the guard, a dopey young man who asked few questions. 
 
 As he made his way through the dungeon corridor, the priest passed a portly older man in fine robes of scarlet and gold, bedecked in all the finery the archbishop's office demands. The better to press home the power and authority of the church when interrogating this killer of the king, demoniac as he was said to be. He took no notice of the lowly, ragged priest as he passed. 
 
 The priest, with eyes to see, could see the flames licking up his silken skirts and smell the filth on him. Under his robe, the priest's hand went first to the simple wooden cross that hung around his neck, and then to another, older pendant; the triskelion given to him by his mother. 
 
 To think, a black blade in the right hands could do such wonderful things.
