PALE RIDER

Torin was riding home from the war, carrying with him his papers of discharge and some silver. It was winter then, and Torin kept himself well wrapped in a cloak that blocked the biting wind. His horse had nothing, and the beast suffered by day and at night fires had to be cold and small. The country was dangerous: bandits had spawned like mosquitoes during the fighting, their numbers swelled by deserters from both camps. Torin's uniform, fighting posture and weaponry made him too risky a target (and soldiers were poor) but at night such things were hard to notice. 

The afternoon before Torin reached his village was bright but marked by a particular chill that silenced birdsong. Torin rode through this cold world where the sun shone, and he'd never seen the woods and fields near his home look prettier. Yet all around it was curiously empty. Not a soul in sight. Just a man, his horse, and the wind in a world of mute beauty. Torin's spirit shivered, and that's when he heard the clip-clop of hooves behind him.

The rider was pale and dressed exquisitely but forgettably in velvet riding browns, his mare a milky white; he wore a pointed beard below a red mouth and moustache. His hat was broad and feathered. His eyes glimmered with charm, and he wore a noose about his neck. 

He quickly cantered up to Torin, smiled wide and extended a calloused, ringed hand in fellowship. Hesitantly, Torin shook it. The Smiling Man spoke, holding on to his hand, "I'd been looking for you, young Torin. You've been gone a long time."
"I was at the front. How do you know me, sir?"
"I know everyone, Torin. As everyone knows me." A mischievous laugh from the rider. "Do you understand?"
Torin's heart sank, and the sweat was on his brow as he nodded. "You're the devil, sir."
A flamboyant bow with his hat swept off and restored in one fluid motion; the Pale Rider put his arm on Torin's shoulder and said, "My boy. Indeed you've been at the front! I was there with you every step of the way. What sights you've seen! And the things you've done, such terrible things."
"I was a soldier, sir," Torin retorted. "I followed my orders."
"What matter's that? Your will is your own, my boy. The sin you've sinned is yours to bear." 
"But I was in the army!" Torin's voice cracked, panic gushing out between the words. His horse caught the mood and whinnied in distress. "I had to do what they told me!"
A conspiratorial wink. "There is a secret, Torin. I will share it with you. You don't have to do anything. My house is full of guests such as yourself who never understood this."
"Your house? Is that where I am to go?"
"Eventually. Your passport has been stamped."
"Just for doing what I was told to do? Where is the justice in that?"
"Justice? Torin, you volunteered for the war. You chose to follow your officers' orders. Every last man, woman and child who died by your hand, you chose to kill them. You did it all. And for what?"
"Well, I did it for my country."
The Smiling Man's grin turned incredulous. "For your country? What do you know about your country? What is your country? Lines on a map. Bits of land, and you've never seen most of them. You can't have killed for that. And do not tell me you killed them for a flag, have some decency!"
"No, no, of course not! You know it wasn't like that. They were invading us! I fought for our freedom."
"Strange, isn't it, how you willingly joined a group of men who forced you to kill so that you could be free from the hands of murderers?"

"Foul devil!" Torin's face was white with rage. And fear. "Leave me be! I fought my war, I fought for my home, I fought so that my family can be safe! I did terrible things, but I did them for the right reasons. I have no regrets, do you understand? Leave me be!"
The Devil reared his horse to a halt. He stopped smiling, and muttered, "As it pleases you, ungrateful boy. I had wished to take you away with me before you found out just how far you'd damned yourself." He began to trot away, back up the road.
Torin called out to the retreating figure, as the sunlight began to dim and the faint chirping of birds began to be heard. "Wait! What do you mean by that? What have I done?"

The Pale Rider turned to look at him. His expression softened. "Torin. When did you last hear from home?"
"What? Oh... two months ago. Why?"
The Devil reapproached him, muting and brightening the world as he did so. "Your father was not as strong as he used to be, and your little brother only fourteen. And you never even taught him to shoot." He reached for and squeezed Torin's shoulder. "Many soldiers ran away from the battlefield. They were not good men."
"No," Torin whispered.
"Your father's farm is too far from the village. Two deserters went there at night. They were looking for some food, and some money. They found both. They also found your sister."
"No."
"Your father and brother tried to protect her, of course, but without you–" 
Torin howled, "LIAR!" Weeping, he drew his sword and cut at the Pale Rider. The blade passed through the body as through smoke.
Unflinching, the Devil continued. "You were at the front, Torin. You know soldiers. You know I don't need to lie. You know what happened next."

Torin's sword dropped from his hand. He reached for the Devil, who held him close as he cried into his shoulder. Still the Devil did not relent: "You chose to kill people for your country and for your family, Torin. You chose to kill for their freedom. Do you imagine the war would have been lost without you? That you made a difference? They never needed you there. But your family needed you. You were a fool. You listened to the songs of soldiers and listened to the speeches of old fools and thought war was good. It is not. How can you trade in death and imagine it would not touch you? Look at me, Torin." He grabbed the soldier's skull and forced him to look into his eyes. There was no longer humour in them, only the knowledge of all the pain we have brought to the world.

"You have damned yourself. You blame your commanders, and you blame the enemy. You even now blame the deserters who killed your family. I see it in your eyes. Everything that has happened was by your own free will. Your kind created me, master of sin, to blame for all the things you refuse to take responsibility for. A liar, am I? May be! But I have never lied to myself!"
The Devil left Torin weeping that day, free to live with the truth of everything he had done.