Death's Paladin

by Christopher Donahue

  Kestran dropped her pistol and took a wide stance with an iron headed mace held with one hand at the base and the other below the head.

  “Kestran, get away from her!” Karro shouted. If Kestran heard, she gave no indication. She rocked on the balls of her feet before rushing at the queen.

  Long shadows ran from Voskov to the diminishing ground between the queen and Kestran. The sorcerer looked from Karro to Kestran and grinned before speaking to the beast woman. He sat in the saddle with a new saber in his hand, not moving while the queen danced Kestran’s way.

  On the causeway, the Tuskaran survivors and Temple troops had gained the upper hand against the crumbling Hykori guardsmen. The last necromancer on the causeway must have been killed; no undead remained there. The sharp banging sounds of arquebuses rang from the square behind him as the Macmar hunted down any Hykori in Market Square.

  I’m sorry, Kestran.

  Groaning, Karro urged Vision into a trot around a pile of bodies and toward Voskov. The grin fell from the sorcerer’s face. He tossed his saber aside and drew a familiar, leather-bound book from his saddlebag. Unopened, he raised it over his head and tossed it toward Karro. The Knight reined up his shaking mount as the necromantic book bounced once in the dust.

  To his left, the Hykori queen broke from her gliding approach and swept her fan in a strike at Kestran. Kestran blocked the attack and hopped back a step, nearly losing her balance.

  The beast woman handed Voskov his saber. With a look of reluctance, she trotted to the sorcerer’s left and beyond a clump of Tuskarans and Hykori locked in combat. Voskov gave Karro an equal’s salute and paced his dragon to follow the beast woman.

  Kestran cried out and swung her mace with both hands at the queen. The Hykori’s fragile-seeming golden fan deflected the blow and her counterstroke ran through the mail on Kestran’s arm as if the armor was knitted wool.

  Voskov no longer has the Book.

  Mission warred with love and cursed Voskov gave Karro the opening to save Kestran.

  “Face me, you foul creature,” Karro called to the queen. Vision lurched across the causeway toward the Hykori queen. Karro had to suppress the training of his youth. This unarmored woman was more dangerous than any other being in the city. He concentrated his will on this attack as if he faced a line of heavy lancers.

  The queen danced back from Kestran. Two more tears rent Kestran’s mail, blood flowing freely. Kestran pressed forward as the queen dropped back.

  Mallaloriva eyed the advancing Tuskarans wildly. She called in vain for her guards, her consort. She called on her dark gods.

  Burned snake bodies littering the causeway wrapped themselves around Vision’s legs, pitching Vision and Karro to the ground. Vision screamed as his leg bones snapped. Karro landed heavily, rolled and staggered to his feet, then continued his advance.

  An exhausted young Hykori in Riverine armor stumbled toward Karro from the side. The Knight stunned the boy with a blow to the helmet and left him lay.

  During the distraction, Mallaloriva rushed Kestran. She trapped the shaft of Kestran’s mace in the frame of her fan and threw both weapons aside.

  Kestran’s attempt at keeping her mace in hand allowed the queen to close in and grapple her. With a backhand blow, the souldrinker stripped Kestran’s helmet away. She looked into Kestran’s face as a young man would look at his lover. The queen began to draw Kestran’s pure soul from her body.

  The presence of Auros brushed by Karro. It was Auros, but not the dour force of duty he had always associated with the Greater Servant. As the Hykori queen, fed oblivious to all else, Auros faded into Kestran.

  Karro stumbled forward to rescue Kestran, but Mallaloriva’s screaming stopped him in his tracks. Kestran stood her ground and the souldrinker staggered back, the faint mist between the queen’s hand and Kestran’s chest connecting the two. Sparks danced inside the mist.

  In the growing darkness, the queen glowed. What started as a radiance surrounding her and coming from Kestran became an illumination from inside the souldrinker’s body. Her incandescent bones lit the muscle and flesh around them.

  Mallaloriva’s tortured cries continued as Karro came to her side. He took a wide stance and brought his sword across in a two-handed blow aimed at her slender neck. The Hykori’s screams cut off with his strike and her body’s glow faded into darkness.

  The surviving Hykori dropped their weapons in surrender. Even the blood-mad Macmar warriors were sated and herded the Hykori toward the square.

  Few figures, Hykori or faithful, remained on their feet. The last rays of the setting sun shone red on helmets and spear tips. The survivors leaned on whatever came to hand, with little distinction between the victors and the vanquished.

  Karro took Kestran in his arms. He couldn’t understand the words she whispered into his chest, but they didn’t matter. She was alive. For the first time in decades, Karro was glad he had survived too. Kestran matched his hug, sobs shaking her.

  After a moment, Kestran pulled back. “We may have years together, my love. Auros has promised it. The injured need our help now.”

  Kestran wrapped a rag around a broken spear shaft. She wound her pistol and used its sparks to light the torch. Flickering light played across her face, blending grime and bruises together.

  “This comes first.” Karro took Kestran’s hand and led her to where Voskov had thrown his cursed Book. Bors lay across the Book, his claws tearing and pointed teeth biting at the face tooled into its leather cover.

  “What do we do with this Book? Can it even be destroyed?” Kestran’s questions followed Karro’s own thoughts.

  The familiar sound of Auros’s voice interrupted his train of thought. He glanced up, knowing Auros would not be in front of him. Kestran’s wide-eyed expression told him Auros was not speaking to him alone. “Yes, it can be destroyed. I will help you if you wish it.”

  Aloud, Karro said, “How could I not want that?”

  “That Book and the new one”―Karro’s glance was drawn to the crumpled silver tome smashed by Aruna’s avenging entruma―“are the physical link to the place where both demons and the Greater Servants dwell. Destroy the link and demons will be unable to enter the world directly or lend power to those who seek them. But the same will be true for the Greater Servants of the True God.”

  Karro felt as though the ground no longer supported his feet. No Greater Servants?

  “We would no longer speak to you or lend you our essences. The True God and the Darkness will remain. We Servants and the demons will continue as we have in our own places here, but we will remain on the outside from the living unless another link is forged. Any such link will be accessible to both. It is the way of things.”

  I would live out my life as a mortal man and rest when that time is done.

  Torchlight flickered in Kestran’s eyes. “Would the world be a better place that way?”

  Karro had no answer. He asked Auros, “What is the will of the True God?”

  Auros chuckled. “You go to the hardest part of serving the True God. It must be your choice and you must live with it. The True God wants you to make these choices for yourself. The Darkness entices and manipulates for its own purposes.”

  Kestran tilted her head slightly forward. She looks for my lead and I have no idea.

  When Auros lived and aided the Tuskarans in revolt against the Masters, he had a certain tone in his voice when painful decisions were needed. Karro and the others who would pay the price for freedom learned to brace themselves when they heard that tone. It resonated in Karro’s heart as Auros said, “I honestly do not know whether the world would be better with us or without us. The demons lead weak men to cause suffering while we Servants do what we can to aid, heal and teach.”

  Karro wanted to lay down the burdens of the Oath of Devotion. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Kestran in a quiet Hold. What was best for his people and served the True God usually came at the cost of what Karro wanted most.
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br />   But he had accepted that duty when he took the Oath. Nothing had changed to release him.

  He picked up the Book, keeping it level so Bors would not fall. “Kestran, gather the other Book. We’ll take them to the Silver Temple for safekeeping.”

  The golden light of Auros settled over Karro again. He saw the red glow of injuries and the fading colors as warriors died in the deepening twilight. Auros would take the Kulkas, Macmar and Temple fallen to the True God that night.

  Karro turned to Kestran. “I feared you dead or worse. When word reached us the ward fell, it was as if I had died instead of you.”

  Her hand dropped to the sheathed honor dagger still at her waist. A silent shudder shook her.

  She retrieved the crushed, silver-bound Book dropped by the weird-eyed sorcerer.

  I’ve chosen duty over love. When your years have passed, I will miss you as much as I miss Ystret. He felt hollow inside, but had no real regrets over his choice. Kestran stepped into his open arms.

  “Oh, Karro, I missed you so much. When the flame serpent broke into the ward, I thought it was the end.” She leaned back to look at him. “Some of us hid in the sewers. I knew you would come. The rest believed because I held to your promise.” Kestran dropped the crushed Book and pulled herself into his arms again. They held each other until the groans of injured men forced their way into Karro’s consciousness.

  He released Kestran. “We have work to do, and years to tell these tales.”

  Vision lay in a tangle of charred snake bodies. The warhorse’s breathing became less ragged as they approached. Karro knelt by Vision’s head, stroking the animal’s jaw. Vision’s injuries remained unhealed by Auros. “The battle is done, old friend.”

  The horse’s breathing smoothed to a relaxed level. As Vision’s eyes glazed and his breathing stopped, sadness gripped Karro’s heart. He envied Vision for completing his journey. Karro patted Vision’s cooling neck.

  He walked to the nearest injured warrior, Kestran at his side. She squeezed his hand and stepped to a faintly glowing body. “We have many years.”

  The words were a knife thrust into his heart.

  A few years, followed by bleak centuries.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kestran woke to Karro’s chest moving under her cheek. Light sheets and the breeze of dawn left them with only a slight slick of sweat. The flicker of the dying candles played across the scars on Karro’s chest. Long scars from swords or flying splinters crossed each other or led to round marks left by arrows or bullets.

  She leaned up on an elbow. Her own skin bore rapidly healing wounds. The history spelled out on Karro’s flesh brought tears to her eyes. Auros had demanded so much from him.

  The part of Auros that had touched her would allow her to share Karro’s burdens and ease his pain. Her lonely life as a widow only lasted three years; his had gone on for centuries. She ached for what that must have cost him.

  The breeze rippled the bright curtains of their tower room. Like the relative handful of other survivors, they had their pick of lodging in the shell of Blue Harbor. Rooms high enough to catch any cool air were the preferred choice.

  One corner held saddlebags full of gold and gems Kestran chose from the treasure in the Hykori “palace.” Doing the work of Auros would be easier when they could pay their own way instead of drawing on Karro’s family or Chuvrek’s goodwill. Lokhaz would give too much and Chuvrek would give too little.

  Propped by the treasure, stood a supple Riverine sword Karro had found for her. It was light and strong. She looked forward to his instructions in its use.

  Near her sword, Voskov’s Book of Hykori sorcery lay with the hideous face on its cover pressed to the floor. On top of it was the silver bound book Karro said another sorcerer used. An entruma had crushed and perforated the silver book, but over the past two days, it had flattened out, the holes seeming to heal. Both tomes would go to the Silver Temple for study or destruction by the Scholars of Carranos.

  Perched on the window sill, Karro’s strange pet twitched under the grip of some nightmare. The wood and linen splints on its wings contrasted with its white fur. The creature said that as long as it lived, Voskov must also be alive.

  Karro stirred on their moss-stuffed mattress. The fragrant filling gave off a spicy scent. Kestran brought this particular mattress into their room for a reason. These expensive Riverine mattresses were imported from their homeland and always in demand. The aroma woke Karro from his light doze. He had a leer on his face.

  Like all dutiful Tuskaran wives, Kestran had ended her first year of marriage with a visit to a local courtesan for “a special talk.” Karro didn’t know it, but Kestran had some skills to teach him in exchange for the sword drill.

  Sun rays lit the interior wall of the chamber. Soon enough, the smell of the city would rise up to the window. The stench of death should drive the last inhabitants out by the week’s end. Those who chose to remain would face plague.

  The remnants of Karro’s army would leave today. Surviving highland Hykori left two days earlier, swearing to forsake their old gods. Kestran believed their sincerity.

  Karro stroked her cheek. He had patience like her first husband never learned. Knights of Auros weren’t required to be celibate like the Scholars; perhaps Karro had some things to teach her too. This first morning as husband and wife promised to be as busy as the previous night had been.

  Of one thing, Kestran was certain; she would accept any burden Auros had placed on her. She would be with Karro for the rest of their lives. Auros promised her that she and Karro would die together. The pain and efforts demanded of them in the meantime were a small price to pay.

  The End

  About the Author

  Christopher Donahue is an electrical engineer, history buff and likes to try his hand at brewing, meat smoking and low-tech skills when not at work. He lives in Garland Texas with his wife and fellow-author, Linda, as well as a varying number of critters.

  Also Available from The Fantasy Writers Asylum

  Blood Songs, by Julia S. Mandala

  Tale of the Black Heart, by Linda L. Donahue

  The Corimar Series, by Julia S. Mandala and Linda L. Donahue:

  Gateway to Corimar

  Spirit Poles

  Traitor’s Game