The Paladins

by David Dalglish

  The ground shook, a lion let loose a great roar, and then the Citadel fell.

  It crumbled into pieces, its lower foundations breaking at the sides. As it fell, the top half tilted to the right, the heavy dark stone slamming into the ground and tearing free huge chunks of earth. The sound was deafening. Even in his dream he felt his ears ache, and the shockwave of its fall thudded into his chest. The army of paladins below felt it all the more keenly. The light of their weapons, once bright and unshakeable, dwindled. The undead let out a cry, and they charged anew. This time they did not fall so quickly. This time, the paladins did not sing out songs to their god. One by one they fell, until the undead crushed them beneath their feet. Jerico cried out in despair, but he could do nothing, only watch.

  He felt an emotion wash over him, and it was not his own. It was a terrible ache, so deep, so overwhelming, that it took him a moment to realize he felt Ashhur’s sorrow.

  And then he awoke. He lay in his simple bed in his guest room. Sweat covered him. He felt tears in his eyes.

  Do not fear the road you must travel, a voice whispered to him. Only know that you do not travel it alone.

  Alone. The word hit him like a sledge. The vast bulk of his order had died. How many might remain? He thought of the dead he’d seen, and he wondered who commanded them. What nightmare was this? The Citadel, fallen? It’d been prophesied to never fall, for if it did, so would end the order of paladins. And it couldn’t end, it couldn’t, couldn’t…

  He felt Ashhur’s presence with him, and indeed, believed it was his voice that whispered softly. Deep in his heart, he knew he should feel at peace with such a presence, but he felt only fear and sorrow. His friends. His brothers. His teachers. Dead. So many dead.

  Despite all this, he felt a keen sense of exhaustion. He fell back atop his bed, and by the time his head hit the pillow, he was already asleep.

  *

  When Jerico awoke, he remembered the dream, and the passage of time did little to help. As the morning light bathed him, he wished for the images to leave his mind. He’d hoped it would reveal itself a dream, or a possible future to avoid. But all he remembered was a sense of immediacy that denied that hope. He’d felt Ashhur’s sorrow. His home was destroyed. The Citadel had fallen.

  He heard a knock at the door, then Jessie call out to him.

  “Breakfast, if you’re ready, sir,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he said, still feeling lost in a dream. He had to get back. He had to see the wreckage for himself, or he might never believe. Besides, who else might be in danger? What of the younger students, had they died in its collapse? And who had led this army? So much he didn’t know, didn’t understand.

  He dressed in his platemail, and he packed his things. Preaching in the village could wait. There were more important things to do.

  “Are you leaving us?” Jeremy Hangfield asked as he sat with him at their table.

  “I’m afraid I must,” he said. Jeremy stared him over, and he felt uncomfortable as he ate.

  “You look ill. Is something the matter? A flu, perhaps?”

  “Ill,” Jerico said, and he shook his head as if his mind couldn’t fathom basic conversation. “Ill news from home, perhaps. Thank you, Jeremy. You have been a good host.”

  “A shame,” said Jeremy. “Before you go, Darius wished to speak with you. He said it was urgent, but wouldn’t tell me what about.”

  A strange guilty feeling came over him. Had Darius received a similar dream? How much exaltation would have been in his? Could any paladin of Karak weep for their fall?

  “Perhaps I will see him before I go,” he said, with no intention of looking.

  After excusing himself, he gathered up the rest of his things and hoisted his pack onto his back, over his shield. Jessie was waiting for him at the door.

  “Will the Citadel send someone to replace you?” she asked. The question stabbed straight to his heart.

  “I fear not,” he said.

  “I’ll miss you. Are you sure you must go? How else will I talk to Ashhur?”

  Jerico sighed. She was staring at him from the corner of her eye, as if afraid to meet his gaze. With how haggard and drained he felt, he couldn’t blame her. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

  “Even if I go, Ashhur will always remain. Take care, Jessie.”

  He left their home and trudged south. He’d need supplies later, but he had enough to live on for now. The Citadel had given him plenty of coin, and he’d spent little of it. There would be many villages along the river, and he’d buy what he needed from them. He didn’t want to remain in Durham anymore. He felt guilty for abandoning his post, but how could he ignore such a portent sent in his dreams?

  Darius spotted him passing through the town square, and inwardly he cursed himself for not going around.

  “Jerico!” he said, hurrying over. He wore his armor, and it shone in the light.

  “I’m leaving,” Jerico said, trying to keep the conversation quick and simple.

  Darius looked as if he’d been slapped.

  “Leaving?”

  Jerico nodded and continued walking. Darius recovered, and he jogged to his side.

  “You can’t leave,” he said. “How could you? The people here need you.”

  “The wolf-men are dead, and I’ve done what I can to spread Ashhur’s word. Besides, what could you care about that?”

  Darius pushed himself into Jerico’s way, forcing him to stop.

  “Soldiers from Blood Tower arrived several hours before dawn,” he said. “They’ve taken up lodging in several houses, and I’ve told them not to say anything about what happened.”

  “What happened? Start making sense, Darius.”

  “Wolf-men assaulted them upon the river. They lost nine men and had to beach a couple miles outside the village. Right now they’re pretending it didn’t happen, and they are the full contingent Sir Godley originally sent.”

  Jerico started to think over the matter, then shook his head and pressed on, his shoulder bumping into Darius’s.

  “The village is safe enough,” he said. “You’re here, as are the soldiers now.”

  “What?” Darius grabbed his arm and pulled him back, forcing him to face him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you need to snap out of it. At least twenty wolf-men attacked their boat. They’re watching the river, preventing reinforcements. That’s not normal, Jerico, and you know it. They’re planning an assault. Every single person here is at risk, and I expect a paladin of Ashhur to be brave enough to stand and fight them.”

  Jerico yanked his arm free and glared.

  “You would call me a coward?” he asked.

  “I call you nothing. I just wonder what it is that could make you abandon the people who need you most. You said I was wrong to avoid Bobby’s funeral, and you were right. Yet now there will be a hundred funerals, assuming any live to bury their dead. Would you be absent from them all? And for what? Tell me what is so damn important!”

  Jerico thought of the Citadel’s fall, thought of the undead swarming over his brethren. And then he thought of Jessie, sad little Jessie, being shredded by a pack of wolf-men. His clenched fists shook, and he tried to know what was right. In the end, he closed his eyes and asked Ashhur. He received no answer, but in the momentary calm, he felt his guilt overcome him. These people needed him. If Darius was right, and so many were massing along the river…

  “I’ll stay until the village is safe,” he said.

  “Good,” Darius said, smiling. “Now care to tell me what’s the matter?”

  Jerico didn’t want to imagine the dark paladin’s reaction, whether it would be sadness, rejoicing, or indifference.

  “Some other time,” he said as together they walked back to Durham.

  6

  Daniel ate his breakfast in silence, speaking only to compliment the young woman who had prepared the meal. Amusingly enough, her husband beamed with pride at every wor
d he spoke.

  “She’s a real cook, ain’t she?” said Henry, the husband. His wife, a portly lady with auburn hair, flushed and turned away.

  Daniel shifted in his seat. Beside him sat two more of his men, all three having slept on the floor of the farmer’s home. Compared to either the boat or the wild, it felt like the softest of beds.

  “Never knew oatmeal could taste so fine,” said Gregory.

  “We may have to stay longer,” Jon agreed.

  Pushing aside his half-full bowl, Daniel stood. The others fell silent.

  “Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the couple. “I have business to discuss, so please, take no offense at my light appetite. The meal was fine, and it is a shame my stomach’s not set to enjoy it.”

  “Want us to come with?” Gregory asked.

  “Stay. Rest. I’ll talk with the paladins.”

  The two soldiers shrugged and continued eating.

  Daniel shivered as he stepped outside. Pulling his cloak tighter about him, he trudged toward Hangfield’s home. Daniel had never met the man, but his name had been on the formal request for aid. That, and when he’d spoken with the paladin Darius upon their arrival, he’d been told to meet them there come the morning.

  “You get some rest before we discuss this further,” the blue-eyed paladin had told him. Daniel tried to oblige, but his dreams had been full of yellow eyes, and he’d woken multiple times covered with sweat. For all the battles he’d seen, it’d been years since he’d bloodied his blade, and even longer since he’d expected to lose. The feeling was far from welcome.

  Damn old age, he thought. What he’d give to have his youthful feeling of invincibility back, if only for a little while.

  A pretty lass waited by the door, and she curtseyed to him as he approached.

  “Welcome,” she said, and he could tell she was trying her best to hide her nervousness.

  “Tell me you weren’t waiting out here in the chill just for me,” he said.

  Her gaze fluttered to the ground.

  “I was,” she said. “Father wishes his guests to feel welcome.”

  Daniel drew his sword, and her eyes widened. Flipping it about, he stabbed it into the dirt and kneeled before her.

  “It is I who should bow to a beauty like you,” he said, smiling. “And I who should be waiting in the cold for a greeting. Please gift me with your name.”

  It warmed his heart to see her giddy and breathless. She was on the cusp of womanhood, and maybe, just maybe, she would remember the honor shown to her and expect similar from the simple men of the village. She reminded him of his own daughter, who he’d lost to the bloody cough so many years before. The girl had the same green eyes. His heart panged at the remembrance.

  “Jessie,” she said.

  “Please, Jessie, escort an old man inside.”

  She took his offered hand.

  “You’re hardly old,” she insisted. “The hair on your head is not all gray.”

  “But there is gray in it,” Daniel said, opening the door. “And all it takes is a single faded hair to make a man realize how far his youth has fled.”

  Jessie didn’t know what to say, so she quietly led him to the dining room, where both paladins sat, a heavyset man with them.

  “Jeremy Hangfield?” he asked as Jessie released his arm.

  “I am,” said Jeremy. “I trust my daughter was polite in greeting you?”

  “Polite as she might be standing motionless in the autumn air.” He gestured to a chair. “May I sit?”

  Jeremy nodded, ignoring the rebuff. Daniel pulled the chair closer and made a show of sitting down. All the while, he scanned the three men, exaggerating his movements and grunts to buy time. Jeremy had noble blood in him, that was obvious, but he’d been tempered by the farmland and distance from the capital. Having his daughter wait in greeting was just a foolish attempt at replicating distant customs, at pretending to a wealth he didn’t really have. He may be the wealthiest man in the village, but compared to the true lords of Mordan, he was insignificant. His house was huge, though, he’d give him that.

  The two paladins intrigued him. The one for Ashhur sat to his left, his red hair carefully cut, his beard trimmed. He wore no armor, but he kept his weapon at his side, and a pendant of the golden mountain hung from his neck. The man looked worn, about as bad as Daniel felt. On the right was Karak’s paladin, a handsome man whom he’d met the night before. His blue eyes seemed subdued in the daylight. When they’d first met in starlight, Darius’s gaze had sparkled as if infused with sapphires. He also lacked armor, but his greatsword leaned against his chair, his right hand gripping the handle. Compared to the other paladin, he looked a picture of health.

  “I suppose introductions are in order,” said Daniel.

  “I believe you’ve already met Darius,” Jeremy said after dismissing his daughter. He gestured to the other paladin. “And this is Jerico, our guest from the Citadel. Both have done well in protecting our village, but given the threat looming before us, we felt it best to contact you.”

  “Well, I’m Daniel Coldmine,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair. “I must admit, I first thought your letter a hoax. Wolf-men gathering near the Wedge’s border, and even worse, brave enough to cross the river? Preposterous. And to have paladins of both gods unable to stop them, and even more shocking, working together to do so? Now I’ve heard some tales in my days, gentlemen, but that one nearly got your letter burned.”

  “We live in strange times,” Darius said, chuckling. Jerico remained quiet, and he looked as if his mind were far away.

  “Even so, Sir Godley and I decided if it were true, things had to be bad indeed. Well, they are, and far beyond it. The wolf-men are scouting the river. They were waiting for us. Waiting! That takes a patience and cunning they normally lack. Whoever leads them is not to be dismissed lightly. They assaulted our boats from the water, killed half my men before we could reach safety. The question we all need to answer is, what does it all mean?”

  “Wolf-men have always been territorial,” Jeremy said. He drank from his glass, then realized his manners. “A drink, my friend?”

  “Strongest you have, Jeremy. I had a long night.”

  The room fell quiet while Jeremy retrieved him a mug. Daniel scratched at his chin and watched the paladins. Jerico never once met his gaze. Darius seemed bothered by this, and Daniel caught several worried glances directed Jerico’s way. So bizarre. The dark paladin was actually upset. Them working together wasn’t some diplomatic necessity. They appeared to be friends.

  “Strongest ale in the cellar,” Jeremy said, sitting back down. Daniel accepted the wooden mug and took a heavy swig. It burned going down, and he loved it. For the first time all morning, he felt himself coming around.

  “Thank Ashhur for that. Karak too,” he said, winking.

  Neither paladin rose to the bait. Damn, they were calm ones, weren’t they?

  “This isn’t territorial,” Jerico said suddenly. He looked around, and he had the air of one pulling out of a dream. “They were scouting us with those first attacks. When we crossed the Gihon, they baited us, then attacked from both sides. And now they watch the river, doing all they can to prevent reinforcements. Jeremy, when is the next shipment coming from Bluewater?”

  “Their boat should arrive early tomorrow, if not tonight,” said Jeremy. “Why?”

  “It won’t arrive,” Darius said, realizing what Jerico was thinking. “The wolf-men will assault it like they did the troops from Blood Tower. They’re treating us like an animal separated from its herd.”

  Daniel frowned. It felt like a bit of a leap, but still…

  “Not entirely sure I buy this,” he said.

  “They’ve found us weak,” Darius said, shaking his head. “And now they’ll do whatever they can to starve us, deny us safety in numbers. When will the pack descend upon Durham? And in how great a number?”

  “Lot of assumptions here,” Jeremy insisted. “We’ve kil
led plenty of them. That alone should prove we are no easy prey.”

  Daniel thought of the viciousness the wolf-men had displayed in attacking their boat. They hadn’t cared about their losses or the disadvantages they faced because of the water. No, they’d fought and died to ensure they didn’t reach the village. Still, they’d failed, which meant they weren’t invincible. Daniel felt pride swell in his chest knowing they’d given as good as they’d gotten, if not better, and that was without armor or solid footing.

  “Not easy,” Daniel said. He glanced at the three. “But I don’t think they expect it to be easy. If they attack here, it will be soon. The longer they wait, the greater the chance Sir Godley realizes the danger and sends more reinforcements from the other towers.”

  “What is it you suggest?” Jeremy asked.

  The paladins shared a look, then deferred to Daniel.

  “We either prepare a defense, or flee until we return with greater numbers.”

  “Fight or flight,” said Darius. “It always seems to come down to those two, doesn’t it?”

  “We cannot leave our homes!” insisted Jeremy. “For nearly everyone here, this is all we have. Our few wagons will not carry a tenth of our possessions. Our livestock will lack for food wherever we go, for how will we bring our grain and hay? Autumn will soon end; there is nothing for us to forage.”

  “It is better to live with less than die with more,” Jerico said.

  “Such a fine platitude,” Darius said. “But there’s a problem. We cannot outrun the wolf-men, not loaded and bearing women and children. Even if we left several days before them, they would descend upon us before we ever reached safety.”