Paladins 02 - Clash of Faiths
Page 21
“They’ll mean nothing, and you know it. All their lives are a pile of shit in the eyes of anyone outside the North.”
Robert crossed his arms and forced himself to bite his tongue. He knew there were good people in the capital, but Daniel was right. Given the current balance of power, they would be making enemies of those who controlled the mind and heart of the king.
“What is it you think I should do?” he asked.
“Bring him in for questioning,” Daniel said, turning to him. “Play it safe. Either that, or give him over to the Stronghold and let them handle the matter.”
Robert scratched at his chin, then shook his head.
“No. I’m tired of these games, Daniel. The whole North is in chaos because of those two Hemman brothers, and the king already loathes my name. He’ll leave me to settle this on my own, and settle it I will. I want proclamations given to every single village along the Gihon, and for them to send riders west until they reach the sea announcing the same. The dark paladin known as Darius shall be executed on sight, without trial or capture. Offer the largest reward we can afford. A hundred people watched him burn their village to the ground, a village I helped save! If he’ll destroy what all our good men died for, then we’ll destroy him, and to the Abyss with what the Stronghold might think.”
“Are those your orders?” Daniel asked.
“They are,” said Robert. “And I expect them carried out.”
Daniel saluted.
“You’re thrusting fire at a hornet’s nest,” he said. “But I’ll trust you.”
He left the room, and once alone, Robert swore up a storm.
“Damn you, Darius,” he said, slamming a fist against the top of his desk. “How could you do such a thing? How?”
He would receive no answers, for he wanted none. The entire North would descend upon him, and if the world were just, Darius would receive the punishment he deserved. And if Karak had a problem with that ...
“I’m afraid of no gods,” Robert said. “Not Ashhur. Not Karak. None of you.”
He thought of the corpses strewn across Durham’s streets, of what the Stronghold’s reaction might be, and then poured himself a drink to help make some truth of that statement.
*
Valessa thought she went to her god, to join her deity in the Abyss, but something was wrong. The image of Darius refused to fade. Fire burned across her flesh, but she saw no darkness, just the face of a man who had turned against everything she stood for. Her body felt strange, full of pain but without any definitive source. At last Darius’s face broke like shards of glass, and she saw darkness. Within that darkness, a lion roared.
Not yet, she heard a voice say, the words flooding her existence with cold terror.
And then she was plummeting downward, feeling wind blasting against her hard enough to steal away her breath ... if she was still breathing. When she hit, she screamed, and all at once her senses returned to her. The world was dark, and high above glittered a field of stars. She felt no sensations of heat, or cold. All she felt was pain, a constant ache from every part of her pale, naked body. Looking about, she realized she was beyond the Gulch, instead at the distant shrine where she had met Karak’s prophet.
When she took a step, she fell. Forcing herself back to her feet, she took another, this time watching her naked body to see what betrayed her.
When she moved, her body lost all color, texture, and became a swirl of shadow.
You have your most heartfelt desire, that cold voice spoke once more. Find him. Kill him. I will not wait for my prophet’s return to bring punishment to my most unfaithful servant.
“As you wish,” Valessa whispered to the stars. Near where she awoke, she saw her daggers lying there, as if calling out to her. When she brought them into her hands, they swirled with darkness and power.
“Thank you,” she prayed, and she would have cried if her body remained capable of tears. “Thank you so much.”
Her heart’s greatest desire.
At her hands, Darius would die.