“So be it,” he said. “If this is my burden, then I will bear it, but I will bear it silently.”
He walked over to the ropes and stooped down. Tessanna frowned.
“Take off your armor,” she said. “And your shirt.”
Jerico shrugged. Without a word he cast aside the rest of his armor, followed by the undershirt. He shivered in the cold. At the sight of his muscled chest, Tessanna shivered as well. The paladin grabbed the ropes, wrapped them around his arms, and then waited. Tessanna stepped inside the carriage, giggling at the thought of herself as some royal princess. She was dressed as one, and she bedded a warlord. Perhaps it wasn’t that much of a stretch.
A few blankets rested upon the bench in the carriage, which Tessanna wrapped around herself. “Take us outside the city,” she said. “I wish to see my lover.”
Jerico acknowledged her by tensing his muscles and stepping forward. The carriage creaked a bit, but as he took another step, the wheels ceased their grinding. He took another, his task growing easier as the carriage gained momentum. They rolled down the street, straight for the southern exit. They passed by demon soldiers and the tested, and he felt shame claw at his gut as they stared. He fought it down. He would not feel shame, he told himself. Not from the looks given by fanatics and war demons.
“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Tessanna asked him. He said nothing. She crinkled her nose as she realized what he was doing.
“Stop being such a child,” she said. “Your tantrum will accomplish nothing.” Still, he remained quiet. The girl with blackest eyes glanced about, and she saw the whispering among the Karak faithful. They knew what Jerico was, she realized. They stared at him with mindless anger. Tessanna bit her lip, suddenly uncomfortable. She was better than them, she told herself. They hated Jerico because they were told to. She hated him for the hypocrisy he represented, for the hurt his kind had done to her. Hers was not mindless. She looked at the rippling muscles of his back as he pulled her and wondered. What might be if, just perhaps, her hatred really was mindless, and therefore could be cast aside…?
“What nonsense is this?” a raspy voice asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Oh, Qurrah,” she said, smiling down at her lover. Jerico had stopped just beyond the southern gate, where Qurrah stood with arms crossed, a frown on his face.
The half-orc gestured to the carriage. “A unique mode of travel,” he said.
“I am a pregnant woman,” Tessanna said, pulling her blankets tighter around her. “Did you think I would walk, or risk the bucking of a horse?”
“I suppose,” Qurrah said, eyeing the paladin with disdain. “But what of this horse? What happens if he bucks the reins?”
“Then I buck him back,” she said, giggling. Qurrah was not amused.
“He is dangerous,” he said. Jerico smirked at this.
“We will be fine,” Tessanna insisted.
“Many want him dead, Tess,” Qurrah said. “Be careful.”
“When am I not?” she asked. She clicked her tongue, and onward Jerico pulled them.
Hours later, he collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. His whole body shivered. His exposed skin was a bright, angry red. Above him the stars shone bright, a meager comfort. Pulling Tessanna through the city had been one thing, but across the hard earth and dying grass was another matter. His arms felt ready to fall off, and the center of his back screamed in agony. Most of his face and extremities were numb. He’d give anything for a fire to curl before, but he doubted he’d get one. Tessanna was punishing him.
“Come now,” she said, climbing out of her carriage. “You think you can hurt me with silence? Disturb me somehow?”
Velixar’s army stretched for half a mile all around them. Almost a thousand undead marched under his command, forming two columns on either side. The tested marched between, singing worship to Karak. Within them marched the war demons, preferring the ground over the biting air. They were in no hurry. The world was already theirs. They just needed to claim it.
One by one, tents popped up about the camp and fires roared to life. Jerico stared at a fire in the distance, wondering if he could throw himself in before Tessanna stopped him.
“I wonder,” Tessanna said as she drew out a knife, “just how sensitive your skin is right now. It looks numb, but maybe…”
She ran the tip across his shoulder to the back of his neck. He tensed, waiting for the stab, but none came.
“Tessanna,” he heard Qurrah say. The dagger left his neck.
“Yes, lover?” she asked.
He glanced around to see Qurrah shivering in his robes.
“Come,” the half-orc said. “I need your warmth by the fire.”
“Ruin all my fun,” she said, but she was smiling. She tucked the knife into her sash and knelt beside the paladin. “Some other night,” she whispered before kissing his scarred cheek. He jolted at her touch. Qurrah darkened visibly, but kept his rage in check. He took his lover in his arms and guided them back to his fire.
Still naked from the waist up, Jerico closed his eyes and did his best to pray as the temperature slowly fell. If he was lucky, he thought, the cold would take him in the night, without pain or torture. As Qurrah and Tessanna made love by the fire, Jerico heard the soft, quiet voice of Ashhur. It offered no warning, no promises, nothing intelligible. But it was there, and that comfort was enough.
A sharp pain to his gut woke him halfway through the night. Through blurry vision he saw several people standing around him, wearing faded robes of brown and gray. The stars glittered high in the sky.
“Get up,” one said. “Get up and defend yourself.”
Another sharp pain pierced his gut. Two more spiked his back. They were kicking him, his groggy mind realized. Why were they kicking him? A heel crushed his ear, waking the nerves within. He grunted in pain, then pushed away the foot. He sat up, brushing away his long red hair and glared at his harassers.
“Karak has given us gifts,” one of them said, holding up his new hands. “And we plan to show our gratitude.”
Jerico’s stomach heaved at the sight. All around him were the tested, and new hands had grown to replace their old, lost pairs. Bones protruded out the stubs of flesh that had been their wrists, locking together into fleshless, nerveless fingers. Soft whiffs of smoke rose from the bones, so that when they swung their hands they left faint trails that slowly dissipated.
“Defend yourself, paladin,” one of the tested said. “State your faith so we may kill you with dignity.”
Jerico stood, his head sagging and his arms limp. He smirked at the fanatical men and women around him.
“Will you not say anything?” another asked. “Or have you lost your faith?”
Jerico tilted his head to one side, grunting as his neck popped. Then he lashed out, grabbing his first accuser’s head with both hands. Before the others could react, he smashed his knee into the man’s face, shattering his nose and splattering them both with blood. He used the body as a barrier, shoving him aside as he lunged for the nearby carriage. He had a hunch about Tessanna, and seeing his shield on the carriage floor confirmed it. He hooked his arm through the tethers and spun about.
The tested screamed as their bone hands smacked against his shield, and screamed even louder as brilliant white light erupted from the metal, blinding their eyes. Those that touched the shield watched in horror as their hands exploded like chalk. The throng of tested shouted in a chorus of anger and vengeance.
Jerico laughed at them, then tossed his shield to the dirt. He had given them his answer. He still had his faith, and he was not afraid.
“Kill him!” shouted the tested whose nose Jerico had broken. They swarmed him, lashing out with their hands. He felt the bones smack against his exposed skin and held in vomit at their touch. He had a sudden idea that now he knew what Karak’s minions felt when they touched his shield, and he laughed. His laughter infuriated the tested all the more. Jerico collapsed to his side as they kicked and be
at him. Both his eyes were already swelling, and his cracked lips spat blood.
“What are you doing?” Tessanna shouted, her voice carrying the power of thunder. A bolt of red lightning tore through the tested, scattering them. Tessanna followed, glaring with her deep black eyes. Magic danced about her fingers, daring any of them to say a word. The tested swore at her and the paladin, but none moved.
“Traitor!” one woman shouted. Tessanna struck her dead with an arrow of acid that dissolved her face into goo. The rest held their tongues. Tessanna knelt next to Jerico, who was busy coughing and retching.
“They hurt you,” she said, stroking his face. “They can’t do that. Only I can hurt you.”
She turned and stood, scanning the crowd for the one she knew was among them.
“Who can speak for your idiocy?” she asked. “Which among you can justify your stupidity?”
“Idiocy? Stupidity?” Preston said, wringing his hands as he emerged from among the throng. “The death of a paladin of Ashhur is never such. It is just. It is wise. It is needed.”
Tessanna shook her head. If Velixar was right, Karak was letting Preston roam free to test his priests’ faith. Tessanna, however, could not care less. She hurled a bolt of lightning at him. Preston crossed his arms and braced his legs. Thunder sounded in the valley. The lightning parted, its strength gone. The high priest shook his head.
“You will suffer for such audacity,” he said.
“She will not,” Velixar said, pushing his way through the tested, Qurrah following after. “And you are a fool if you think you have the ability to harm a single hair on her head.”
“You protect her?” Preston asked, incredulous. “After what she has done?”
Velixar frowned. He could see more priests filtering their way through the crowd. For once he was being tested, and not the other way around. Karak’s prophet was far from happy. If he protected Tessanna, even after she murdered several of the tested, Preston would have ample fuel for his rants against him. So be it, he thought. The girl was far more important.
“Jerico is hers to torture,” he said. “He is hers to kill. You had no right to send the tested after him.”
“They did only what they felt was needed,” Preston said. “And to have a paladin survive while surrounded by so many of us faithful is a blasphemy!”
“Blasphemy?” Velixar roared. “You challenge the voice of Karak, then speak of blasphemy? We march to victory, to our god’s very freedom, and you think Karak finds such horrible insult in a broken man shivering in the cold as he pulls a cart like a beaten donkey?”
Qurrah felt his whip writhing around his arm. It wanted blood, and it seemed to share his disgust with Preston. If it ever came to that, the half-orc decided, he would make sure the whip got the killing blow.
“You play dangerous games,” Preston said. He glanced about, making sure enough of his priests were nearby. “And you suffer our enemies to live. You appoint yourself leader without peer, without proof. Perhaps Karak’s voice is not so loud in your ear as it once was.”
“You damn yourself with such words,” Velixar said, his deep voice rumbling with anger. “But how many will damn themselves with you?”
Preston did not answer. He left, calling for his priests to follow. The tested went with him, resuming their songs. Their wild voices chilled even Velixar, for the worship was not to Karak like it should have been. They sang in near insanity, enjoying the power and certainty of their fanaticism. It pained him greatly to think that Karak was not with them.
“He needs to be dealt with soon,” Qurrah said when they were gone.
“You’re right,” Velixar said, pointedly glaring at Jerico. “He does.”
Jerico slowly curled onto his side, ignoring the flares of pain in his shoulders. He lay on dying grass, without a blanket for warmth. They were a week out from Veldaren, and after the fourth day, when it became clear he did not have the strength to pull her carriage, she gave him his shirt and granted him permission to sleep beside their fire. His back had been to them, but he was curious about the sounds he heard. Rolling about, he peered through the flames. Tessanna knelt, one hand shakily supporting her body, the other holding back her hair.
“Breathe,” Qurrah told her, who knelt beside her with a hand on her shoulder. “Deep breaths. The nausea will pass.”
Tessanna heaved, but only tiny bits of spittle and acid came out. Jerico frowned, remembering a comment she’d made to Qurrah as they left Veldaren. She was a pregnant woman. He had been so focused on the carriage and remaining silent, he’d let the comment pass right over him, but now he truly pondered its greater meaning. The girl with blackest eyes was with child, most likely the half-orc’s.
How dangerous a spawn, he wondered. But Keziel said daughters of balance never bore children…
He focused, for they were talking again.
“I don’t think it wise to keep him much longer,” Qurrah said when her heaves were gone. Tessanna stared at the earth, her lips quivering and her breathing raspy and uneven.
“What other mode of transport do you suggest?” she asked.
“You have your horse.”
“Too jarring. You know that.”
Qurrah stood, pulling her to her feet with him. “Then have a tested pull your carriage, I don’t care.”
“I don’t like them,” she said. “They’re like dogs with rabies. They’ll bite us soon.”
The half-orc fell silent. So far neither knew Jerico watched, and for that he was glad. Surely one of them would gouge his eyes out if they realized.
“Forgive me, Tess, but you two worry me,” Qurrah said at last. He seemed almost ashamed to admit it. To this the girl crossed her arms and suddenly turned shy and quiet. Jerico had to strain to hear her words over the crackling of the fire.
“He confuses me,” she said. “And he excites me. But he also makes me angry, very angry, Qurrah. I want him to fuck me, and then I want to kill him. He is something that this world no longer needs, and I want to prove it.”
The half-orc swore and looked away. Jerico swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry. He knew his life hung by a thread, but never realized how fragile that thread was.
“You’re mine, and mine alone,” Qurrah said. “Torture him however you wish, but do not let him take you. Promise me that.”
“I will be the one doing the taking,” Tessanna said, the shyness all but gone.
“Promise me.”
He turned back to her. She met his gaze, unafraid, unwavering.
“I will do as I desire,” she said. “That is all I know how to be.”
Qurrah shook his head and muttered something Jerico could not hear. Still muttering, he left their camp. Tessanna followed, drawing her knife and calling her lover’s name. She was furious, that was obvious. Hidden well, however, was her fear, but Jerico saw a tiny spark of panic when Qurrah had left.
As he was pondering ways to use the situation to his advantage, he heard footsteps behind him.
“Do you now understand?” Velixar said as he sat beside the fire. “You are nothing that you wish to be.”
The paladin remained silent, still holding onto his original plan. Velixar shrugged, not bothered in the slightest.
“You wish to be a light in the darkness,” the prophet said. “But to Tessanna you are a temptation. To Qurrah you are a threat. To the rest in this camp, a nuisance. To no one are you a beacon. To no one are you an example. This is what our world shall be. What role do you have within it?”
Velixar crossed his arms and leaned forward, knowing he would receive no answer.
“I do not share the blind hatred of my brethren, Jerico. You are not an animal needing exterminated. You are strong, intelligent, and carry enormous faith. But you are wrong. When you boil it all down, you are wrong. About this world. About mankind. About your faith. It is not too late to rectify that error.”
Jerico sat up and shifted so that he and Velixar faced each other on opposite sides of the fi
re. He watched the features slowly change on Velixar’s face, the shifting barely perceptible.
“Your face,” Jerico said. “Is it true, or is it a lie?”
Velixar tilted his head to one side, caught off-guard by the question.
“It is as true as anything in this world,” he said at last.
“Then my faith is no error,” Jerico said, a great weight leaving his chest. “Not if that is your truth. A shifting, liquid truth is something I want no part of. You call me obsolete. You say the world has moved on. So be it, for that means Ashhur has never moved. We moved from him.”
Velixar shook his head, saddened.
“Such faith and wisdom,” he said as he stood. “Wasted.”
He waved his hand and whispered a spell. Velixar’s frown was the last thing Jerico saw before his eyes closed and a deep sleep took him.
Jerico endured the following weeks in silence. In spite of the pain in his legs, the ache in his arms, and the hunger in his belly, he no longer felt abandoned by Ashhur. It wouldn’t be long, he thought, before he went home. A few more days of pain were nothing compared to an eternity of glory. The war demons looked upon him with disgust, the priests and the tested with rage, but he endured.
Whenever he pulled the carriage, Qurrah was nowhere to be found, and whenever they stopped, he would always be there. It was a strange game they were playing, Jerico figured, and he didn’t know the rules, just the pieces. Tessanna spoke little to him, and he never responded in kind. It seemed much of her fun with him was gone, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. One night, however, he received a very clear answer.
He lay beside the fire, struggling to sleep. He had begun worrying that one of the tested would try to strangle him while he slept, and it made resting rather difficult. He had no problem with dying, but he didn’t like the idea of those skeletal hands touching his skin. When a finger touched him he startled, for he had heard no steps, no approach.
“Jerico,” Tessanna said. He opened an eye and looked at her.
“Hrm?” he grunted.
“Qurrah’s gone,” she said. Her bottom lip quivered. “His sleep is deep. I need comfort.”
The Half-Orcs: Books 1-5 Page 100
