I was only a boy when I first saw him.

Our small village was under attack, the barbarians had come for their tribute. They gathered livestock, money and steel for their own survival, leaving us with nothing but shovels and dirt for the winter. I had watched one beat my father into submission, driving his face firm against the stone chimney of our home. His jaw was a mess of bone and blood and he collapsed before me with my mother pleading for them to spare us. The barbarian turned and grinned, his teeth brown with rot. I felt my body seize.

Run, I thought, Run!

But as he neared a man clad in tattered grey robes appeared seemingly from nowhere, and pushed his sword hilt firmly into the barbarian’s abdomen. As the attacker reeled in pain, my saviour raised a hand and pointed at the barbarian.

“You are not welcome here, leave, and never return.” His deep voice was soothing to me, yet demanding.

“You think i’m leaving? Ha! I’m going to kill you, and then all of them!” He drew two handheld axes from his back and lunged toward the man with an incredible agility for a large man. Only the smaller man was faster, and quite skilled, deftly knocking both blades away with one swing.

“Don’t make me do this.” The man in the tattered robes asked. “Please.”

“It’s me, or you!” The barbarian lunged again, and the man knocked the axe from his left hand while dodging through to the right.

The axe landed with a thud and the man stood firm between the barbarian and his weapon. “I will not kill you.” He said calmly, as he dropped his sword to the ground. “I’m here to help these people and help you.”

“I don’t need help!” The barbarian roared and brought his one final axe down toward the man’s head. With astonishing speed, the man caught the blade firm between his hands and shook his head.

“You had a choice.” The man said. “And you failed.” His right hand punched hard into the barbarian’s heart. Watching a man crumple like that barbarian, it was unnatural and frightening.

The man turned to my family, my mother who was cradling my unconscious father and then to me. “Who are you?” I asked.

“I am… a wanderer.” He said slowly. With that he stepped over the dead barbarian at his feet and disappeared into the night through the bushes. Since then, my family had been left alone on their farmstead.

Times change, people change and situations come up. I was no longer that little boy and now I was among the men of the Inquisition. The woman’s hands clawed at my gauntlet as I dragged her toward the guillotine. Leaping was a crime, a sin in the eyes of the Gods as it was deeply rooted in the power of demons. It was then I saw him.

Through the crowd, a lone man in tattered grey robes stood still as a statue, his jet black hair gently dancing on the breeze. I felt as though our eyes met, despite the hair that blocked his, and I felt his icy stare down to my core. My grip on the woman’s hair loosened and she made to flee before two others of the inquisition grabbed her. I could tell they were yelling something in my direction, but my eyes were locked on the Wanderer.

As the inquisitors placed the young woman on the chopping block, I could hear the sudden release of the blade. In the blink of an eye, the Wanderer stopped the blade from advancing and stood between the woman’s executioners. “It is not her time.” He said over the silence of the crowd. “But it is yours.” This time wasn’t as violent as the last, but with a simple touch, both men collapsed to the ground. The crowd scattered in every which way and I stood still as a post. I could feel that stare, even when he wasn’t looking at me. He freed the girl and she disappeared into the demon realm through the flames as I watched.

In a few steps he was before me, his pale skin almost translucent up close. “You had a choice.” He said, his voice just as deep as the first time I heard it.

“We all do.” I stated. “And what is one man’s heaven is another man’s hell. How can I live in paradise when someone else’s paradise might not be near the same thing?”

“Paradise is for all.”The Wander said.

“So you’ll be there?” I asked.

The Wanderer shook his head. “Never.”

“Why not? I thought you were from there?” I felt his hand upon my breastplate as it turned cold..

“Because.” The Wanderer smiled. “Death’s job is never done.”