009

9. Sin

After loading up a light pack with some traveling supplies, Cliff and Eden tunneled to Despair. On the other side, they found themselves inside a rusted, makeshift chamber with nothing but a small blinking beacon in the corner.

Cliff opened the door to the small room and inhaled the arid desert air. In front of him was a dirt road leading over to a large water refinery built around a small settlement. The road was empty, and no one came out to greet them. Pipes stretched out from the ground and weaved through the dunes like long spider legs, beaten and worn down by the blistering sun.

"No one’s here," Cliff observed. "Which means no vehicle for us to borrow. We’re gonna have to walk over to Land’s End."

"Are you gonna be okay?" Eden asked, watching as dust slipped through the cracks of her sandals. "You still seem really hurt..."

"I’m in pain," Cliff said. "But I can walk. Anyway, there’s something I need to tell you. I was born here, but as of now...I’m not exactly welcome."

"Why not?" Eden asked. "What happened to you here, Cliff?"

"You don’t want to know," Cliff answered in a tired voice. "Trust me."

Eden reached out and placed a soft hand on Cliff’s arm. "Yes I do."

Cliff looked down at his companion, staring into her shining emerald eyes. He couldn’t say no. "Fine. I guess I do owe you the truth."

The wind picked up as the two started their trek across the wasteland, and Cliff began his tale.

Her name was Elendria McNeil. She was a beautiful woman with flowing blond hair, daughter to a poor miner named Jerome and his wife Christine, the town's dressmaker. As a child, she and I didn't socialize much. I played cowboys and savages with the boys, and she stayed inside, knitting with the other women. It wasn't until we were both teenagers that we became inseparable. I first spoke to her at the Land's End annual social. I’d never seen her outside of her normal clothes before. The gown she wore made her look just like an angel that had fallen straight from heaven. I was stunned, and from that night on I was determined to become her man.

After a few weeks of talking and smiling, I felt ready to ask for permission to court her. Elendria's father was hardly home, so it was her mother who first authorized our relationship. I was just a farmhand, and she was one of the most popular girls in town, so you can imagine how nervous I was. We had some great months together...Elendria truly was the woman of my dreams. After about half a year, we both knew we wanted to marry each other. Her mother never brought it up with me, but I know she approved of me...which meant that all I had left to do was ask her father.

The few times I met him, I felt like he could see right through me. He seemed to know exactly what a screw-up I was, how nervous I was about the future...like he could peer into my soul and see exactly what was to come.

I’m not sure he ever really liked me – but at the very least, I got him to tolerate me. Later, Elendria and I were married while we were still teenagers. It was the happiest I’d ever been.

It seemed like our happiness would continue forever, too. We loved living together, waking up next to each other every morning, sharing our daily joys. But I soon came to realize I wasn’t the only insecure one in the relationship. Elendria had her own worries, and she was deeply afraid of being alone. I never found out why – it was hard to ask, because it always made her cry to talk about deep stuff like that.

When I went to go help out at the mine or tend to the farm, she always wanted to come with me. On my days off, even when I just wanted to go on a short walk to get some exercise, she always expected me to ask her. If I ever declined, it hurt her feelings.

She told me she was afraid of being alone at home at night, so I bought her a gun. That wasn’t what she wanted. I told her to go spend time with her friends, go visit her parents, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay home and be with me.

Never had I imagined so much love could hurt so badly. The more this went on, the guiltier I started to feel about leaving her alone – but this stress only made me long for more freedom. For the first time in my life, I found myself missing my old life as a lonely farmhand who had no place to call home, because at least then I didn’t feel like I was disappointing someone every single day of my life.

One night, Elendria and I had a fight. I can’t even remember what it was about. I just remember feeling, angry, hurt, and like I needed to be somewhere else. So I left her there, in our small farmhouse on the outskirts of Land’s End, and went into town to get a drink.

A traveling band was visiting the saloon I frequented, so I stopped in to listen. I soothed myself with some whiskey and listened to them finish up their set. One of their back-up singers came up next to me and ordered a drink from the bar. She had curly brown hair, a beautiful face, and a confident smile.

"Why the long face, handsome?" she asked, throwing a wink my way, and that was all it took.

Mandy was a poet. She was educated, smart, sexy, and for some reason, I was enthralled by everything she said. We ordered some more whiskey, and we started to talk.

Mistakes are strange. Obviously, no one would make them if they saw the result beforehand. And we humans even have the ability of foresight to help us avoid the more obvious ones, like trying to fight a lion with your bare hands. So what is it that allows us to deceive ourselves so well when it comes to the less obvious mistakes? Stupidity? Pride? Or some other common human trait?

After talking for Mandy for far too long, the pressure of getting back to Elendria finally crept back up on me, and I left the bar. It was pretty late when I got home. The first thing I noticed when I walked up to our house was that the front windows had all been smashed in. I rushed inside. Elendria was lying dead on the floor. Someone had their way with her, then shot her right in the head. After all my attempts to convince her that she’d be okay, her nightmare had come true after all.

The first thing I felt was rage. I went out back and scanned the ground for tracks. I never found any. Then, the crippling guilt slowly set in.

I took Elendria’s body to the sheriff so that she could be given a proper burial. Elendria’s parents were called in. Mrs. McNeil wailed, and Mr. McNeil began to beat me. I didn’t try to defend myself or offer any explanation. I simply curled up on the ground and let him take out his anger on me.

Luckily, Sheriff Cole was a kind-hearted woman. She asked Jerome to stop after a few hits, so he spat on me and left.

From that day forward, countless insults and accusations were flung unto me, some from people I didn’t even know. But it didn’t matter either way. Even without all that, I knew I was a failure. It was all my fault. I put Elendria in that situation, and somehow, I continued to live while she lay dead in a grave.

The McNeils left town a few days later, cursing me all the way. I never saw them again. The one thing I still can’t believe is how sympathetic Sheriff Cole was to me, and I'll always owe her for that. She knew the facts – she knew what a piece of shit I was, yet she still gave me compassion for some reason.

Aside from her, the town hated me. Everyone I had once called a friend turned their back on me, and I no longer had any place to go. My landlord even kicked me off the farm.

For the first few nights after the incident, I began searching for the person who killed Elendria, but I never found any leads. At night, I slept in the back alley behind the town jail. I still felt fortunate – at least no one could ask for me to be hanged, as far as the law went.

"If I’m going to go on living," I said to Sheriff Cole, "I want to at least try and make up for what I’ve done."

"You can’t make up for it, Cliff, how many damn times do I have to tell you?" she retorted. "The one who killed her might be lying dead in a ditch now for all you know. And if he ain’t, he sure as hell will be at some point. What’s done is done. You have to move on."

"Well then I want to protect someone else," I said stubbornly. "I want to do something right for once. Please, Sheriff...I feel like this is the only way I can keep myself going."

Later, she got in touch with the Guild. I assume she told them all about what happened, but the Seneschal never mentioned it to me when we first met. He offered me a place to stay, employment, food...basically, the chance to start all over again. I felt like I didn’t deserve it, but at the same time, I yearned for it. I knew of the Dimensional Knights: they were protectors. One week after we first fell in love with each other, I’d told Elendria that I’d protect her forever.

I knew I was beyond salvation, but no matter how low I got, that was the one dream I could never manage to give up. I wanted to protect someone, whether or not I had any chance of retribution.

And so I left my home with nothing but the clothes on my back and the shotgun I’d once presented to Elendria...a reminder of my sin.

"Cliff..." Tears rolled down Eden’s cheeks. "I..."

"Stop." He turned from her and rubbed his own eyes. "I didn't tell you that story to have a pity party or anything. I just felt like you should know."

"You protected me, Cliff," she said softly. "And I’ll always be thankful to you for that."

"I’m just thankful you’re here," Cliff said, averting his eyes. "Come on, the town’s just up ahead."

After several minutes of awkward silence, Cliff and Eden reached the entrance to Land’s End. Past its large wooden gate stretched the town’s main strip, a line of dusty old stores encircled by zig-zagged houses. Outside the modest town center, the number of homes dwindled, dotting the land out to the barren hills.

Cliff guided Eden to the center of the strip, where the sheriff’s office sat – a small wooden hut connected to an old stony dugout shelter. Its rickety wooden door opened to the main lobby, a black-walled room with stuffed animal heads mounted on the walls.  Cliff looked around for any signs of life, but no one stood behind the main desk. The two moved into the back hallway, where they spotted three people gathered around the door to the small infirmary.

"Cliff!!" A smiling middle-aged woman with curly blond hair noticed Cliff immediately and walked forward. "‘Bout time, stranger!"

Cliff nodded meekly. "Nice to see you again, Sheriff."

"Aw, cut the bashful crap, you scoundrel," Robin said, then moved in and gave Cliff a bear hug. "I know you missed me. Didn't know you were into younger women, though," she chuckled. "What is she? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Seventeen," Eden whispered softly.

"Seventeen? Coulda fooled me, hun. Then again, what would I know about seventeen? I was pregnant and stuck at home while Billy was out tryin’ to find new ways to break his legs." The older woman outstretched a hand. "I’m the sheriff of this shithole, Robin Cole. Nice to meetcha, princess."

"I’m Eden...nice to meet you too," she replied meekly.

Robin had a powerful grip, which left Eden rubbing her hand after the handshake concluded.

"We're here on business from the Guild," Cliff said, "so I’ll cut right to the chase. Do you know where the Knights from the 4^th division are right now?"

"Maybe if ya shuddap for a minute, we could ‘splain it to ya," grumbled one of the other people in the hall – a short old man, standing next to a tall woman with a brown rat-tail.

"Yeah," muttered the woman, not bothering to look in Cliff’s direction. "Give pa a chance to speak, why doncha?"

"Y’all are mighty keen to forget it, but that there mine’s my private property." The old man's tongue wagged like a dog's as he began. "I’m only lendin’ it out to y’all, as a kindness. That’s the one thing we gotta get straight ‘fore anything else, ya hear me?"

"Yes," Cliff replied politely. "Of course."

The old man gave Cliff no recognition. "Anyway, yesterday my boy Kurt come up to me and he says 'hey, pa' – that's what evry'one calls me, y’know, they call me pa. He says, 'hey pa, them Guild boys, goddammit, they actually found something. Some peculiar little object there, buried deep in th' stratum, like.' So I says, ‘well then, ya better tell ‘em to haul it up so we can bring it back to town.’ So he did, and they dug it up. ‘cept they wouldn’t bring it back to town. Sayin’ it’s too dangerous without a proper vehicle. Hah! Damn fools don’t know how to ride a goddamn horse, that’s their problem! So this morning, I ask Sheriff Cole here to lend Kurt the buggy. Knowin’ them city folk, they’re liable to trust a machine more than a horse, nine times outta ten. But what do ya know...lunchtime comes around, and the son of a whore still ain't back yet! So this afternoon, Ashton and me, we go out searchin' for Kurt, and instead, we find this here child lyin' face-down in the dirt, bloody as a baby pig. So, I think, 'well, maybe this here boy knows where my Kurt is,' and we brang him on back here. An' that's all I know."

Cliff looked exasperated. "So no one’s been to the mine. You just left the Knights out there?"

"This kid was on his deathbed, so we chose to prioritize him first." Robin nodded to the door. "He’s lucky we found him at all. Hasn’t said a word yet, either. I looked him over, and he's been cut somethin' nasty around his wrists. And judgin’ from the way the wounds were made, it doesn't look like he got 'em from hopping over barb wire in a twister...if you catch my drift."

"Hell no!" the old man shouted. "If there was a twister, we'd a’ heard about it days before it hit town!"

Robin rolled her eyes and moved to the door. "Anyway, he ain’t dead. He lost a lot of blood, but we managed to get him all fixed up. Personally, I’m curious to see what he has to say."

With that, she opened the door, revealing a small cot clad in white sheets. Propped up on some pillows was the body of Vance Darcouver.

"Whatever happened to him sure took a lot out of him," Robin went on. "Then again, it don't seem like he had much to begin with. Look how scrawny he is – no muscle at all! Skin's pale too, so maybe he’s one o' them cliff-dwellers."

Eden gazed over to a dilapidated wooden table in the corner. Bloodstained, ragged jeans and a black coat had been piled on top of it.

"Hey, Cliff," she asked, nudging him. "Do they sell clothes like that in your world?"

Without waiting for a response, she moved over to the jacket and picked it up, looking for the tag. In that moment, Vance stirred, opening his uncanny eyes. He scrunched up his brow in confusion, then parted his lips.

"Who the hell are you?"

Next: The Vainglorious