Paladins 02 - Clash of Faiths

by David Dalglish

  “Here,” he said, pointing to a place labeled Deer Valley, several miles east of the Green Gulch.

  “A valley?” Velixar asked.

  “We will leave them nowhere to run, and our horsemen will run rampant through their lines.”

  The prophet nodded in approval.

  “My faithful and I will await you there, my good knight. Your cooperation will never be forgotten, I promise.”

  The promise felt just as much threat, but Gregane kept his face composed, the rigid gaze of a commander. Velixar stepped out from the tent. Once he was gone, Gregane collapsed to his knees, tore off his armor, and called out for one of his servants to bring him a very, very full pitcher of wine.

  14

  Jerico rode into Lord Arthur’s camp with his head held high, as beside him Kaide busily counted and made estimations. Finding the army had taken little questioning, considering every farmer and trader seemed to know of its location. As they neared, they’d encountered villages Arthur’s men had passed through, accepting gifts of food and supplies. From there, they’d found the army with ease. Kaide’s group had been stopped at the outer edges of the camp, but the guards were aware of their coming, and let them pass.

  “I hate the way they look at us,” Bellok said, guiding his horse between Jerico and Kaide. “Like filthy rabble.”

  “Are you saying we’re not?” Kaide said, but he didn’t smile at his own joke, instead too busy glancing about at the tents.

  “Nervous to meet Arthur again?” Bellok asked.

  “Or have your men embarrass you?” Jerico added, glancing back to the farmers, thieves, and bandits that formed their diminutive group. Most seemed intimidated by the armored soldiers that watched them trot toward the center of the camp, marked by Arthur’s enormous tent atop a cluster of hills.

  “No,” Kaide said, frowning. “I count only a thousand, maybe fifteen-hundred. I hoped for more.”

  “More might come,” Bellok said, but he sounded like he doubted it.

  At the commander’s tent, they halted and dismounted. A soldier guarding the entrance motioned to a field in the far distance.

  “We’ve prepared a place for your ... group,” said the man.

  “That’s a damn long walk,” Kaide said.

  “We have some food to spare, and the land is flat. Do you have a problem?”

  Jerico and Kaide exchanged looks.

  “So be it,” Kaide said. “Bellok, spread the order, then join us inside.”

  As they went to enter, the guard refused to move. Instead he pointed to the mace, shield, and dirks the two wore.

  “Your weapons,” he said.

  Another look between them.

  “No,” they said in unison.

  The guard didn’t seem flustered in the slightest.

  “Surrender, or no audience.”

  The tent flap opened, and Lord Arthur stepped out long enough to gesture them inside, as well as whisper a word to the guard. The guard shot them an annoyed glare, but held his tongue. A fire built in the center of the tent made the interior feel warm and welcoming, the smoke escaping through a hole in the very top where the poles came together. A table was on one side, adorned with maps and sheets of parchment detailing numbers and supplies. On the other side was Arthur’s bed. The lord walked over to the table and sat in the only chair.

  “I must thank you,” Arthur said, leaning back. “Given how quickly I prepared my forces, I feared I would have no choice but to take from the villagers we passed to keep my men fed. Instead, I find myself given more than my fattest soldier can eat. Never did I think the hearts of the people had abandoned my brother so.”

  “The hearts of most can be bought with coin,” Kaide said. “And I’ve spent every day since Ashvale buying hearts using Sebastian’s own gold.”

  Arthur let out a bitter chuckle.

  “I see. I pray you never turn on me, Kaide. It could be disastrous for us both.”

  “When will your entire force be assembled?” Jerico asked, trying to bring the conversation to the tasks at hand.

  “When? It already is, paladin. Are you disappointed?”

  Jerico was unsure of what to say, so Kaide said it for him.

  “Yes. We are. What challenge will we be to Sebastian’s men with only, what, a thousand?”

  “Fourteen hundred, not counting retainers, squires, and the women lurking about waiting for night to fall. I summoned those loyal to me to fight, and now you act disappointed? I’d hoped the legendary bandit would make up for that. How many men did you bring me?”

  Kaide’s face remained passive as stone.

  “Three hundred.”

  “Three hundred?” The lord laughed. “Surely the might of the people rises up against my brother. Three hundred, armed with what? Pitchforks? Knives?”

  “Enough,” Jerico said. “What is it you plan to do, Arthur?”

  The lord gestured to the map, and the two looked over it. Its location marked with an embedded dagger, they saw his proposed site for a battle.

  “Green Gulch?” Kaide asked.

  “Sir Gregane has already sent a rider agreeing to the place. We’ll meet at midday, and fight each other on an honest field of battle.”

  Kaide looked ready to fall over.

  “Honest field of battle? We’re going to be outnumbered, and you want to march south into a scattered forest full of level ground and fight an honest battle? Would you throw this war away so easily?”

  “Men fight wars, Kaide. A skilled, proud man fighting a worthy cause can defeat ten sworn to something they do not believe. How many men have you killed with just your few?”

  “With surprise. With stealth. Abandon the designated spot, and march with all haste toward the cities. Take Murkland. Take Valewood. With them in your control, Sebastian will have to come running, and by then, we might already have a second army headed for his castle!”

  Arthur waved him off.

  “You appealed to my honor to start this war, now ask me to cast it off when you find it inconvenient? A victory here means the end of our conflict, with no villages burned, no lives lost other than fighting men sworn to such a fate. Now enough of this. You have your three hundred. What is it you would like to do with them? I can find a place among my ranks, not the front lines, of course ...”

  They heard commotion from outside, and then Bellok entered, adjusting his robes.

  “It’ll do,” he said to Kaide, referring to the encampment. He turned to Lord Arthur. “Oh, and the Irons twins might have knocked one of your soldiers unconscious. Well, several of your soldiers. No one died, I promise.”

  Arthur’s eyes widened.

  “May I ask the reason?”

  Bellok bit his lip and glanced at Kaide.

  “I’d suggest not. Suffice to say, your men will not speak ill of those two again, nor their mothers, nor the animals they ride on.”

  Arthur rubbed his eyes and looked ready to dismiss them all.

  “My men,” Kaide said, bringing his attention back to the map. “I have a plan for them, though it might insult your honorable tendencies. Where will you set up your lines?”

  Arthur gestured to a small white space.

  “There runs a gap of nearly half a mile between the trees. My men will be stationed along the tree line. That should keep Sebastian’s mounted knights from running us over.”

  Kaide looked at it, and gestured for Bellok to do the same. The wizard ran a hand through his white hair, and then nodded in approval.

  “It’ll work,” he said.

  “What will?” asked Arthur.

  “I think it best you not know,” Kaide said. “I have my tricks, just as you have your noble honor. Until we reach the Gulch, we’ll march with you, but continue on when you begin setting up lines.”

  Arthur looked none too pleased with this, but he did not argue.

  “Sir Gregane is leading Sebastian’s forces,” he said. “He’s a good man, and knows how to fight. Whatever you do, prepare for
it to not work as you expect. Other than that, from where we believe them camped, we’ll have about a half-day’s preparation before he arrives. Can you do what you hope to do in such short time?”

  “I could do it in less,” Bellok said, shooting the lord a grin.

  “Just who are you, again?” Arthur asked.

  “The card I have hidden up my sleeve,” Kaide said, bowing low. “Now by your leave, I’d like to return to my men.”

  “Go.” He waved them on, but when he saw Jerico about to leave, he stopped him.

  “Yes, milord?” Jerico asked.

  “I heard plenty of opinions, but none from you. What say you to all this?”

  “I don’t know Kaide’s plan. He’s hidden it from even me. As to where you battle, the advantages are as you say, and will be better if you can dig even a single trench beforehand. How many men do you expect to fight?”

  “Four to five thousand.”

  The two stood there a moment in the quiet, and then Arthur began to chuckle.

  “I march men to their deaths, all for a cause I cannot win. That’s the truth of this, isn’t it?”

  Jerico shrugged.

  “If that is so, then why do you continue?”

  Arthur sat in his chair and leaned back, eyeing the paladin.

  “I looked into you, Jerico, to see what I could find. The Citadel ... there’s a story spreading, though how it fell no one seems to agree. Your paladin friends are vanishing, and some whispers even say they are gone completely. Yet here you are, still fighting. Why is that?”

  Jerico shrugged.

  “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Aye,” Arthur said, and for once he smiled. “It is. After hiding in caves for years, it feels good to stand tall and do just that. I dare say, it is about damn time. Will you fight at my side, or will you join Kaide’s dogs lurking at the edges?”

  “I don’t even know what Kaide is doing. Until I do, I must stay with him. I think he’ll need my help more than you will. In fact, I’m certain of it. I did help train his men, after all.”

  Arthur laughed.

  “You did? How did that go?”

  “I lasted a day before I wanted to break my vows to Ashhur involving decency and murder.”

  Arthur stood, and he clasped Jerico’s hand and shook it.

  “Stand tall, and fight bravely,” he said. “Consider me honored to have known you, and have you fight against my brother, wherever you may be.”

  Jerico smiled, and he did his best to push away all thoughts of the coming battle.

  “Ashhur be with you,” he said, leaving the tent to speak with Kaide and find out just what chaos he had in mind.

  *

  Darius and Velixar camped alone several miles from Deer Valley. Velixar never slept, but he often vanished for long periods of prayer. It was then Darius would sleep. Rarely did he feel rested come morning. Nightmares haunted him, always of the Abyss. He felt its heat beneath his skin. In the darkness, he saw what would be his fate, his torture and release upon accepting his rightful place in the eyes of his god. With fire and flame he would cleanse the sin from the wretched.

  But in his dreams he suffered with the sufferers, despite everything Velixar insisted.

  Yet those dreams were still better than having Velixar’s burning eyes upon him, or to hear his cold words whispering promises and assurances. He wanted rest, needed it badly, but this time, as the stars rose, the prophet did not leave for prayer.

  “Will you need a fire?” he asked as the two sat in the center of their modest camp. Darius nodded. Winter was fast approaching, the last remnants of autumn’s warmth in retreat. A fire sprang forth between them with a wave of Velixar’s hand, and Darius leaned closer to it, his arms hunched and his head low.

  “You know what must be done,” Velixar said, watching him from beneath his hood. “Come tomorrow, it will all end. The last consequence of your failure will be faced. Amid Arthur’s army lurks the paladin. I am sure of it. No mere soldier will bring him down. That honor must be yours. What will you do when you meet him in battle?”

  Darius thought of the man he’d always considered his friend, however strained their friendship had been because of their opposed deities. What would he do?

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, refusing to look Velixar in the eye. “I will do what Karak asks of me.”

  “Karak’s will has often proved elusive to you. I would have an answer, paladin.”

  Darius looked up, and he felt a weight upon his heart as he spoke.

  “I will kill him. I will cut his head from his shoulders, and hold it high for all Dezrel to see. My faith is to Karak, my god, above all others. Let him go to Ashhur, or Karak, or wherever his soul shall spend eternity.”

  A smile spread across Velixar’s ever-changing face.

  “You have learned much, Darius, enough that I would consider you both pupil and friend. I know your heart is still troubled. Do not think me blind to your struggles. But freedom comes soon. Bear no guilt for what must be done. Think not of him as your friend, nor as an enemy. He is an obstacle in your path, blocking the narrow road. In this, you must know what Karak has called for. You cannot doubt my words. Since your childhood, Karak has demanded this of you, that you let nothing stand in the way of your faith. Not death, not life, not love, not weakness, and not pride. Faith, Darius. You have it, stronger than most alive, and that is why I offer you a gift, if you would accept it.”

  Darius felt a shiver travel up his spine, and he tried to blame it on the weather.

  “What is your gift?” he asked.

  “Let me see the mark on your hand.”

  Darius pulled back his sleeve and held out his sword hand. The skin remained black as charcoal, and looked as if it had been recently charred. It caused him no pain, other than a constant remembrance of his doubt and weakness back in Durham. Velixar put his own hands atop it, his touch like ice.

  “Karak marked you, for you went to him seeking your fate if you spared Jerico’s life,” Velixar said. “Now you have seen it, and lived it, all the while bearing Karak’s shame. You doubted his will. You tried to bring mercy to an enemy that deserves only annihilation. Tell me once more the fate you saw.”

  “I would fall at his feet,” Darius said, and he felt tears building in his eyes. “I’d be beaten, bloodied, and like a dog I would beg for death.”

  “I free you from that fate,” Velixar said. “I free you from Karak’s mark. Your faith has returned, and it will grow stronger than ever. Know Karak’s love has come into you. Know his presence, in his greatest way.”

  Velixar’s hands shimmered violently.

  Everywhere the mark touched flared with pain, as if Darius had plunged his hand into fire. His arm shook. His stomach twisted, but he had not eaten in a day, and he had nothing to expel. A vision came over him, shocking with its strength and power. He saw himself, and at first he thought it taking place in the Abyss given the fire surrounding them, but then he saw grass and trees. Bodies lay about, cut down by blades

  On his knees, his mace lost, his shield broken, knelt Jerico.

  One last chance, he heard himself say. Yield to Karak, or face his judgment.

  Jerico stared at him, his face full of anguish and sorrow. He said nothing, only shook his head. Darius felt himself dip into the body of the vision, becoming one with it. Sensations nearly overwhelmed him; the heat of the fire, the ache of his muscles from the fight, and the taste of blood on his tongue. Most of all, though, he felt pure, total exhilaration.

  He lifted his sword, wreathed with black flame so thick it hid the blade completely. It felt light as air in his hands. His mark, which had marred his skin, was gone. Jerico looked to the blade, then closed his eyes.

  Karak’s judgment, Darius heard, though he knew not who said it. It comes for all.

  He swung the sword. As it connected with Jerico’s neck, the vision shattered, and he felt himself returning to his true body. He lay on his back in the grass, shiv
ering from the cold. To his left, the fire had dwindled down to nothing. Velixar stood over the ashes, and even he looked shaken.

  “Such glory,” he said, his voice soft. “Such honor. Your mark is gone, Darius, and your fate now your own. Show faith to Karak, and you will achieve all you have seen. Fail, doubt, and you will break before Jerico. Two destinies, both yours to decide. Either Jerico falls, or you fall before him. I have faith in you to make the right choice, to wield the power meant to be yours. Karak’s strength embodies you. Stand, Darius. Lift your blade.”

  Darius did, and though he felt unsteady on his feet, he could not deny how much lighter his armor felt. When he lifted his sword, it was with a single hand instead of two. At his touch, fire consumed it, dark and deep. The metal of the blade was visible, but only just.

  “My choice,” Darius said.

  “It always has been.”

  Darius looked to Velixar.

  “Then I will live, and bring Order to a world that sorely needs it.”

  Velixar’s smile was ear to ear.

  “As it should be,” he said. “Karak be praised. You have truly returned to the fold.”

  Darius sheathed his sword, closed his eyes, and gave his first ever prayer to Ashhur. He asked him to keep his champion from partaking in the battle. Otherwise, his mind was decided. His fate was chosen.

  Should they meet, Jerico would die.

  15

  “You’re grumpier than normal,” Jerico said as Bellok shouted orders at every nearby person, whether they deserved it or not.

  “The whole damn night,” the wizard said, rubbing his eyes. “Ever tried swinging your mace for eight hours straight? I did that with my head. Grumpy doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. The next person who yells next to my ear gets turned into a jumping toad.”

  They walked amid the bustle of the camp, preparing to move out. Arthur had sent them a rider, alerting them to Gregane’s location. Come the late afternoon, the battle would begin.

  “Are we ready?” Jerico asked, tightening his armor. “I still don’t know our plan.”

  “Better you don’t. It’s not going to work.”