Adam closed the distance, but Darius caught him with a knee to the groin, and as he bent over, Darius uppercut him in the throat. Adam’s mouth opened and closed, trying for air, but he remained eerily silent. The rest backed away, and Darius felt his rage overwhelming him. Don’t kill, Jerico had said. Protect the innocent. But what of these bandits, these pathetic cowards who would steal him away in the night? Did they deserve his protection?
When he saw that none were moving against him, he reached up and yanked the rope from his head, then spat out his gag.
“Is this the best you can do?” he asked, gasping in air. The pain in his left arm was growing, and he felt his fingers shaking. “No wonder Sebastian doesn’t give two shits about your army.”
“It ain’t that,” said Griff, returning with a horse he led by a rope. In his other hand he held a long blade, and he pointed it at Darius. “We wanted to do this with you alive, outta respect for Jerico. But looks like you ain’t giving us much choice.”
“Seems so.”
Griff suddenly crumpled to his knees as the sound of metal rang out through the forest. Behind him stood Jerico, his shield in hand. He looked about as mad as Darius felt. He lacked any armor, but his mace was clipped to his belt. So far he hadn’t drawn it. So far.
“All of you should be ashamed,” Jerico said, the light of his shield washing over them. He joined Darius’s side, and he winced at the sight of all the blood. “How could you turn on one of your own?”
“He ain’t one of us,” said Adam, sounding funny with the missing teeth and his swelling lips.
“We’re just following orders,” said another.
“Orders?” Jerico looked about, and somehow, his anger grew. “Whose orders?”
“Mine,” Kaide said, stepping through the ring of men. His hand was on the hilt of his dirk.
“I’m not going in as your little prize,” Darius told him, grinning despite the pain. “I hope that won’t be a problem.”
“I don’t understand,” Jerico said, approaching Kaide. The rest of the men tensed. “How could you do this?”
“How could I not?” said Kaide, drawing his dirk and pointing it toward Darius. “Do you know what he is? He’s months of food. He’s an arsenal of weapons. He’s a mercenary band that could break the siege at the Castle of Caves. Everything I need, right here, just by slitting his throat.”
“Do it, and I’ll kill you,” Jerico said. He looked about the gathered group, and Darius found himself stunned by the sheer fury in his eyes. It felt as if the air about them thickened, and no fool, Darius moved to his bedroll and lifted his greatsword into one hand. He might have trouble swinging it, but it’d be better than fighting unarmed. Jerico freed his mace.
“Don’t make this worse, Jerico.” Kaide took a step back, among his men. “I tried to take him alive, for your sake. We still need you, but we owe this stranger nothing. He helped burn Durham to the ground, and if he is innocent, then let him plead his case to Robert, not me. I’ll take the gold. It doesn’t mean a damn thing to me if I have to buy my revenge with blood money.”
“Move aside, Jerico,” said Adam.
“Yeah, get on out,” added Griff.
The two paladins shifted so they stood back to back. Jerico tilted his head, and spoke to Darius.
“I’m sorry. I thought them my friends.”
“So am I allowed to kill them?”
Jerico shook his head.
“I’d still prefer not.”
“I think it’s up to them.”
Darius pointed his greatsword at Kaide.
“Move aside,” he said. “I’m leaving, tonight, and you will not stop me.”
“Kaide,” Jerico said, and he met the brigand leader’s gaze. “Don’t do this. Don’t make me do this, not after all we’ve suffered through. You’re better than this. You know I will defend him. I don’t need my armor to bring you all down, not when I have my shield.”
Kaide jammed his dirk back into its sheath and shook his head.
“I told you, Jerico,” he said. “There’s no honor in our war, only justice. But for your sake...so be it.” He turned to Darius. “Leave here, tonight, as you said. I will send no man after you, so long as Jerico stays with me.”
“You’re too kind,” Darius said.
Kaide left, and at his absence, the rest of the men dispersed, leaving the two paladins alone at the dark edge of the camp. Darius kicked, scattering his armor, then collapsed to his knees. Jerico knelt beside him, setting aside his shield to examine Darius’s many wounds.
“Some friends,” he said as Jerico’s hands began to glow with blue-white light.
“Quiet.”
Darius relaxed as the healing light shone across his arms, then plunged into his muscle. He felt a sharp snap of pain in his bones, and then it faded. He stretched the arm, the limb tight and sore, but otherwise healthy. He wished the same could be done for his mood.
“We can’t go on like this,” Darius said.
“Of course. We’ll both go, and find...”
“No.” Darius shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. This bounty is absurd. No matter where we go, I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
“We can repaint your armor, maybe stash it on a horse or donkey.”
“And accomplish what? What can we do when I must hide, and fear the very mention of my name? No, I’ll fix this, one way or another.”
“How?”
Darius leaned his sword against a tree, then began gathering his things.
“I’m going to the Blood Tower,” he said.
“What?”
“I’ll speak to Sir Robert face to face. Whatever crime he believes I’ve committed, I’ll hear it with my own ears. I’ll tell him of the horrors done by Karak’s prophet in return. Either he rescinds the bounty, or I’ll...”
“Or you’ll what?” asked Jerico.
Darius struck the tree with his fist. The bark tore into his hand, and he clenched his teeth against the pain.
“I don’t know how you do this,” he said, his voice lowering. “How do you expect me to leave them alone, to forgive these unjust accusers, thieves and murderers?”
“What did you once tell me?” Jerico asked, taking Darius’s sword and offering him the hilt. “Our path is a hard one. Nothing’s changed, not with that. Mercy over vengeance. Grace over condemnation.”
Darius drew his sword and held it before his eyes.
“A light in the darkness,” he whispered, seeing its glow.
He sheathed it once more, then held the rest of his things.
“Farewell, Jerico,” he said.
“What? I’m coming with you.”
“I won’t argue this. Sebastian is dangerous to the North, and his allegiance to Karak is only the beginning. You must stop him any way you can.”
“Even if it means helping the men who just tried to kill you?”
Darius chuckled, and he clapped Jerico across the shoulder.
“Never said it’d be easy.”
He turned to leave.
“How will we find each other again?” Jerico asked as Darius ducked his head and marched into the forest.
“I’ll listen for the stories,” Darius called back.
5
Hunger had grown a constant to her, a sensation now as meaningless as the feel of wind across her skin, or the pain that flared from every inch of her body. Valessa used it to propel her onward. She longed for the comfort of sleep, for a respite from the pain and guilt. But it would not come, so onward she followed the red star. It led her through plains, farmlands, and at last to a forest whose name she did not know. The sun and moon rose and fell, their light and darkness just as meaningless to her as bread or water.
The thick branches and leaves proved problematic at first, for they blocked the light of the star. But she found that when she stopped to focus, to demand its crimson light, it could pierce even the forest canopy.
“Praise be, Karak,” she whispered. “
Praise be.”
She ran, at first weaving through the trees on nothing more than instinct. When she realized how pointless that was, she might have laughed, but even laughter caught in her throat. Her body was meant for slaughter and pain, not humor. Not pleasure. Penance.
Her path lost its weave, and she plunged through the trees, feeling the trunks and low branches pass through her. She was smoke, shadow, an incorporeal being. Her speed increased, distant wolves howled, and the red star shone on. Its light was so bright, she knew Darius had to be close. His presence burned in her mind like a beacon. Her hands clutched her daggers, and with near ecstasy, she imagined plunging them into his throat. The sensation of pleasure overwhelmed her. She hadn’t realized something like that had been left to her, but it seemed she was wrong. She could still feel joy. She could still know Karak’s love. All by repenting for her error. All by slaughtering Darius the traitor.
In the distance, she saw a camp, and she slowed her run. It had to be Kaide’s, she realized. Who else would have a miniature village lost in the woods? It certainly explained Sebastian’s difficulty in finding him. Had Darius taken shelter with them?
Up ahead, she saw two figures, a man and a woman. Valessa slowed even more, and she let her presence fade away. Gone were her clothes, her pale flesh, replaced only with darkness. Unseen, she crept up on the couple. The way the red star flared, she’d hoped it was Darius, but it was not. Her disappointment did not last long. She recognized that red hair, that enormous shield strapped to the man’s back.
“Jerico,” she whispered, the word curling off her tongue like a purr. The paladin of Ashhur was equally as responsible for her failure as Darius, all because of his meddling, and that damn shield of his. He spoke with a silver-haired woman, who looked upset but was hiding it well. Valessa glanced to the sky, saw that the red star beckoned further, but she could not deny herself such an opportunity. How might Karak bless her for defeating such a terrible foe? How much joy would soar through her shadowy soul when her daggers tore the life from his veins?
She looked to the nearby camp, then smiled, a plan already forming...
Jerico watched until Darius was gone, and then shook his head. Darius was right; Sebastian was trouble. But Darius was young in faith, and it’d been mere weeks since he’d been in the prophet’s thrall. To separate now felt risky, but in the end, he had to hold faith in Ashhur. It was the right thing to do, letting him go. So was this.
He gathered his things, pulled his shield across his back, and waved goodbye to the camp.
Kaide had threatened to send men after Darius if Jerico did not stay. Good luck, he thought. Any fool that went after Darius now deserved the beating they received. But he could not stay. They’d betrayed his trust, and no matter how important Kaide claimed he was, that importance was not enough for them to take Darius under their protection.
Barely beyond the light of the camp’s torches, Jerico heard Sandra call his name. He turned, steeling himself against any guilt.
“Jerico, wait,” she said, hurrying after.
“What is it?” he asked. “Are you here to apologize for your brother again?”
Sandra shook her head, and he realized she carried a small bundle against her stomach.
“You didn’t know, did you?” he asked.
“I’d have stopped him if I did,” she said. She looked back to the camp, and he could see the sadness in her eyes, and the way her lips quivered. “I’ve been at his side for years now. Always the older brother, the one who would save our family. But I don’t know who that man is, not anymore. I once told you I thought he knew nothing but revenge. Tonight proved that.”
Jerico stopped, and he put his hands on her shoulders.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “He’s your family, and they’re your friends. I understand their desperation, as much as I might loathe their actions. Don’t risk whatever happiness you know just for my sake.”
She shook her head.
“Our town is gone. My parents are dead. Whatever happiness I knew, it died that winter. Kaide’s just kept that pain fresh. We gave him his battle, and I saw the dead and the dying. It did nothing, only fed the beast that’s taken over my brother.”
She brushed her hair away from her face and behind her left ear.
“Let me come with you,” she said. “I don’t care where. Just let me follow you until I can find a new home, free of all these memories.”
She stepped closer, and Jerico felt his throat tighten.
“Shouldn’t you say goodbye?” he asked her.
“He’d never take it well.”
Jerico sighed. He knew his path was dangerous, and he had no intention of giving up the fight against Lord Sebastian.
“All right,” he said. “But we need to hurry, and put as much ground between us and here by morning. Because you’re right...there’s not a chance Kaide understands.”
She smiled, and he accepted her embrace. As his arms wrapped about her, he saw a figure walking toward them from the camp. He tensed. Sandra sensed it and turned. The figure grew closer.
“Shit,” said Sandra. “It’s my brother.”
“So much for a romantic flight through the dark forest.”
She punched his chestplate, then pulled free of his arms.
“Let me talk to him,” she said, approaching Kaide. The moonlight fell across his features, and seeing them, he clearly did not look happy.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Don’t be upset,” Sandra said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m allowed to make my own choices. You’re not our father.”
He never slowed. Never stopped. His hand dipped to his belt, then thrust. Jerico felt his heart shatter. Sandra gasped as the dagger pierced her belly. Jerico was too shocked to scream. Time crawled still, and she fell to the ground, blood pouring. Kaide looked at him, and he smiled, but suddenly he was no longer Kaide. He was a creature of shadow, his clothes melding and changing into the face of a woman he thought had long since departed for the Abyss.
“Valessa,” he said. The woman Darius had killed. The word stuck in his throat. His arms felt like they were made of stone. Valessa’s now feminine body shimmered, and fading in and out of dark smoke he saw her gray clothes and leather armor. Her daggers shimmered with crimson power in her hands.
“You killed Claire,” she said, yet it was still Kaide’s voice that spoke. “You killed me. I’ve come to return the favor.”
“What are you?” he asked. It was the only thought that he could manage. Behind her, Sandra wept in pain, her life bleeding out her stomach. Still alive, thought Jerico. Praise Ashhur, she was still alive. His hand shifted for the complicated straps of his shield.
“I’m Karak’s judgment,” she said, now in her own voice. The daggers twirled in fingers that lost all color and texture. “His executioner. His beloved.”
She lunged, and he yanked free his shield. The light flared amid the darkness, and Valessa let out a shriek. Her dagger struck the center and slid to the side. Jerico grabbed his mace and swung twice. The first missed, Valessa ducking beneath with a bend of her back that looked beyond humanly possible, but the return swing clipped the side of her face. Instead of shattering her jawbone, it passed right on through. Her face reformed, and it grinned at him despite the obvious pain the light of his shield caused her.
“Not good,” Jerico muttered, flinging himself backward. His shield blocked the next flurry of blows, but one twisted about, and Jerico had no choice but to try a parry with his mace. It connected with the dagger and batted it aside. His relief was palpable. Her flesh might defy reason, but at least her weapons still made sense. Confidence growing, he took the offensive. He swung his mace in arcs, using it not as a threat but a means to keep her daggers engaged, for as he anticipated, she fought with the finely honed instincts she’d had when still alive. Still human. He couldn’t tell what she was now, other than that her whole being was composed of Karak’s raw power and fury. The light
of his shield, that was his weapon, and he wielded it accordingly. Anytime she pressed close, he saw the pain on her face, saw the way she twisted and turned to add distance and keep herself from staring into its center.
“You’ll die,” she cried as her daggers struck his shield amid a shower of sparks. “You, your whore, the bastard Darius...all of you will die, sacrificed in Karak’s name!”
Her movements grew faster, a twirling monster of smoke. But time was running out, and Jerico no longer had the patience.
“No,” he said, lifting his shield high, then slamming it to the ground. “We won’t.”
He cried out the name of his god. The light on his shield flared, brighter and brighter, until the clearing shone as if a blue sun had risen in the sky. Valessa let out a cry akin to a cat in pain. Her flesh peeled, and her daggers lost their glow. Jerico swung, his mace passing through her chest. Valessa stumbled, and it seemed to take longer for her shadowy body to put itself back together. Her legs wobbled, and Jerico flung his shield toward her as the light dimmed. She shrieked again, then was gone.
Jerico gasped in air, his shoulders heaving, as he looked about the clearing. In his mind, he felt no danger, heard no warning from Ashhur. He forgot all about the gray sister, for he heard Sandra weeping. He clipped his mace to his belt, flung his shield onto his back, and then rushed to her side. A lump in his throat, he knelt and took her hands in his. They were soaked with blood.
“Don’t,” she said.
“I must.”
He pulled her hands apart to look. The stab wound was wide, circular. Valessa had twisted the blade on the way out, he realized. He clutched Sandra’s hands tighter, and did his best to keep down his hatred. No matter what, it wasn’t right.
Paladins: Book 03 - The Old Ways Page 5
