Life.
Jerico ran.
He didn’t get far before he saw someone waiting for him, wearing deep black robes, their color darker than the night. He reached for his shield, determined to die fighting than return as a prisoner.
“You have no need to worry,” said the stranger, his voice a hiss. “I have one question, that is all.”
Qurrah lowered his hood, his eyes bloodshot, his tears running down both scars on his face. Jerico slowed to a walk, still holding his shield.
“Ask your question,” Jerico said. “I will answer honestly.”
“Did you sleep with her?” Qurrah asked as Jerico passed by.
“Yes,” Jerico said when they were shoulder to shoulder. He felt his shame grow anew. “But only once.”
Qurrah looked as if he’d been struck ill.
“Be gone from here,” he said. “Should I see you again, I will kill you.”
Jerico ran.
Q urrah returned as the sun was rising. Approaching from the other side of their camp were Krieger and his men, armor polished and swords drawn. Only Tessanna waited for them, standing before a dead fire.
“Qurrah!” she said, rushing to him when she saw him. He took her in his arms, shocked by how desperately she clung to him.
“You sent him away,” he said.
“I love you,” she said. “Not enough to kill him, but enough to send him away. Does that please you, Qurrah? Please, tell me it does.”
He held her tight and kissed her forehead.
“Of course,” he said, but his words were hollow.
Krieger’s dark paladins surrounded the camp. They looked but saw no sign of Jerico. Krieger stepped forward, pointing one of his swords at Qurrah.
“You promised me the paladin come the rise of the sun,” he said. “Well, the sun has come. Where is Jerico?”
“Gone,” Tessanna said. “Escaped into the night.”
Krieger slammed his swords together, letting their clang ring loud in the morning air.
“Don’t lie to me, woman,” he shouted. “You let him go! You fucked him, didn’t you? You had your fun and then let him go, all while the blood of my men stains his hands!”
The commotion stirred through the camp. Preston soon arrived, a dozen of his priests with him. Qurrah glared at their intrusion.
“To release a paladin of Ashhur so he may escape execution is a very serious crime,” Preston said. “Punishable by death.”
“We don’t live under your laws,” Qurrah said, slipping a hand into his pouch of bones at his hip.
“That’s the truth,” Krieger muttered.
“You march among us but do not count yourself subject to the laws we obey,” Preston shouted, more to the gathering crowd than to Qurrah and Tessanna. “You act as if your power gives you importance, and that power puts you above all others, above even the very word of Karak himself!”
“ I am the word of Karak!” Velixar roared. Priests scattered to give him passage as he approached. “Yet you question me with every breath you take!”
“You are the word no longer,” Preston challenged. “You have turned your back to Karak. You have insulted his laws, his priests, and his very principles. He is order, pure order, and you are nothing but an agent of chaos.”
Velixar curled his hands, and bolts of shadow flew from them, straight for Preston. He slammed an open palm to the ground. The shadows scattered as a shockwave of air and sound rolled in all directions. Qurrah lashed out with his whip, but several priests protected their appointed Melorak, using their meager magic to summon black shields.
“They are traitors to Karak,” Preston shouted. “Strike them down! Show your faith!”
Krieger’s men remained where they were, waiting for word from their leader. The dark paladin shook his head.
“Jerico should have died the very moment we laid eyes upon him,” he said.
“Show some wisdom,” Velixar said. “You know who I am, what I can do.”
“I know who you were,” Krieger said. “Kill them.”
Before they could follow the order, a giant spear landed among them, burying into the dirt. Over a hundred war demons landed, their weapons at ready. Ulamn landed beside Qurrah, and he pointed his gigantic sword at the dark paladins that surrounded them.
“I have no time for such squabbles,” he said, his voice booming. “Nor your laws and punishments. I will not be stranded here on this young, tiny world. As long as Qurrah and Velixar hold open the portal, they are under my protection. If any question this, speak now! I would hear your challenge.”
None dared speak. Ulamn turned to Velixar.
“You and your apprentice stay among my soldiers from now on. No arguments.”
Ulamn signaled, and his soldiers surrounded the three, flanking them in a protection of wing, muscle, and armor. Velixar offered one last threat before he left with the demons.
“Karak will suffer your blasphemy for only a little longer,” he said. “And I pray that your death will be by my hand.”
Ulamn led them away. Preston hurried to Krieger’s side.
“We must move fast,” he said. “The paladin cannot be far. Send out your men!”
“Get away from me,” Krieger said, brushing the high priest aside. “I know how to do Karak’s will.”
Within five minutes teams of riders rode west into the hillside.
All the while, Jerico ran.
9
T he last survivors of Neldar were a week from Mordeina when the first messenger arrived.
“Queen Annabelle Baedan, ruler of all of Mordan, extends greetings from her throne,” the man said as he saluted from atop his horse. “She has heard of your plight and extends her hand in friendship. Come to the capital. Mordeina will greet you with open arms.”
“It is a kind offer,” King Antonil said, seated around a campfire with his soldiers. “I thank you. Return to your queen, and tell her we accept her generosity.”
Antonil turned to the Eschaton, who had gathered around him when the messenger arrived. “It appears Queen Annabelle is more welcoming than Neyvar Sinistel,” he said.
“Guess so,” Harruq said. “But queen? Thought Mordan had a king.”
Antonil chuckled. “So did I. But is it surprising things change while you march for months across the wild?”
“Course not,” said Tarlak. He removed his hat and scratched the top of his head. His bald spot had filled over the past months, but the habit remained. “I’ll spread word to the people. They’re already excited as is about nearing civilization, but to be greeted so warmly!”
The Eschaton bowed, and Antonil gave them leave. Ever since they had returned from their excursions with Dieredon, the king had treated them like brethren. He consulted them for advice, shared his worries, and relied on them heavily. Tarlak, having needed coin to endure his cold relationship with former King Vaelor, found all this a fantastic improvement, even with the drastically reduced amount of gold.
“So who’s this Queen Annabelle?” Harruq asked as they weaved through the refugees.
“King Baedan’s wife,” Aurelia said. “I think I remember her. She was just a girl when we fled here, twelve or thirteen perhaps.”
“Maybe she’ll be more forgiving than her husband,” Harruq offered.
“Maybe,” Aurelia said.
They stopped at their tent, which was just as meager as the others around them. They had declined special treatment, suffering in the cold like everyone else. The blankets and food the elves had given them were exquisite, and had saved many a life as the winter tore on. Harruq himself had grown rather attached to his bedroll, which had a slit so he could slide inside like a caterpillar in a cocoon.
“I’m worried about Tar,” the half-orc said as he knelt down and started rolling up his belongings.
“Why’s that?” Aurelia asked, busying herself with breaking down their tent. The day was young, and all around others were preparing for hours of marching.
“Be
cause of Delysia,” he said. “He’s not grieved, not since we left Veldaren. Been damn near cheery, even. Now Haern, I know he’s just as hurt as Tar, can tell just by how he looks at me, but the wizard…”
He shook his head. Aurelia stood, kissed his cheek, and returned to her work.
“I’ll talk to him,” she said. “I have an idea why he’s been like he has.”
“What’s that?” he asked, but was only given a shake of her head.
“Just keep packing,” she said. “If I’m right, I’ll tell you later.”
She found him half a mile ahead of the throng of people, trotting along with staff in hand. Tarlak heard her approach and turned, a smile on his face.
“Weather’s finally warming up,” he said. “Course, it waits until we’re already across all the nations, but hey, who am I to complain?”
“You’re the perfect one to complain,” Aurelia said, smiling as well. “You’re so good at it.”
“Bah, just an innate gift. It’s something all us wizards have.”
Aurelia walked beside him, her arms crossed over her chest. Her smile faded a little as she tried to find a gentle way to ease into her desired topic.
“Tar,” she finally said, “we’ve been a little worried about you.”
“Worried?” he asked, his smile weakening. “Why’s that?”
“Your sister,” she said. “She was dear to us, but you most of all. We each grieve in our own way, but…”
“But what” Tarlak asked. “I haven’t wept enough? Bawled and hated the world like a moping half-orc I know?”
Aurelia halted. “That is uncalled for.”
Tarlak sighed and stared at the ground, his forehead resting against the top of his staff.
“I’m sorry, Aurry,” he said. “But look behind us. You see that huge throng? All of them have lost someone, some their entire families. Parents without children, husbands without wives. I lost my sister, and unlike all of them, I was given time to bury her.”
He pulled his head from his staff and chuckled.
“Too many rely on me to lead. Even a new king seeks my judgment. I’ve not the time, nor the luxury to grieve. Ashhur was kind to give me the moments I had, with friends and family, to say goodbye. I cannot ask for more.”
Aurelia put her arms around him, and he accepted her hug.
“You’re sweet,” he told her. “But if anyone needs watched over, it’s Haern.”
“He loved her, didn’t he?” Aurelia asked as she pulled back and smoothed her hair.
“Like a sister,” Tarlak said. “But more. They might have married one day, had he ever found the guts to ask me for permission.” The mage looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.
“I know,” Aurelia said. “He blames Harruq. I was hoping his anger had faded.”
Tarlak pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Like I said, I’m not the one you need to worry about.”
T hey camped less than a day from Mordeina, and the mood was beyond festive. Tarlak used up the last of the topaz the elves had given him to create a great feast. Bread rolls and biscuits glazed with honey, slabs of ham, and cobs of corn lined an entire table he had somehow pulled out of his hat. A snap of his fingers, and the remaining water turned to wine.
“You’re a miracle worker,” Harruq said, winking at him.
“I try,” Tarlak said, stuffing a roll into his mouth. All around people sang and danced. More than a cup or two was raised high to toast the health of King Antonil. The Eschaton gathered around the king and his favored generals, who in turn toasted the health of the mercenaries.
“You just keep pretending we’re doing this for free,” Tarlak said as he accepted the toast. “You’ve got one monster of a debt.”
“And we’ll pay it tenfold,” Antonil said. “And I’ll relocate your silly tower to the city, so I don’t have to run so far in the cold and rain every time I need you.”
Harruq took a swig of wine and glanced north, where in the distance he could make out faint lights from the city of Mordeina.
“What’s it like?” he asked.
“Been there only once,” Tarlak said. “Beautiful place, and far better fortified than Veldaren. No offense, Antonil.”
“Better be careful how you talk around a king,” Haern said, smirking at the wizard.
“I’ll throw him in the stocks later,” Antonil said. “But continue, for I have never seen the city, either.”
“Well, when Ashhur built the city, he surrounded it with a gigantic wall of white stone, five men wide. But evidently that wasn’t enough for our beloved deity, so he built a second wall around the first.”
Tarlak drew a few lines in the dirt to illustrate his point.
“Try to climb over the first wall, maybe even blow a hole in it, and you’ve still got a full second wall to get past,” he said. “And even worse, the gates to the city are cattycornered. Break down one and you’ve got to turn and march a good hundred feet to the second, and of course, the gap between the walls is so thin no battering ram is going to fit.”
“Sounds impressive,” Antonil said. “We will be in need of such defenses.”
“Winged attackers ruin a lot of the fun,” Tarlak said. “But any troops on the ground are doomed. Archers line that inner wall, and they’ve got retractable ladders from one wall to the other in case they need to retreat. Needless to say, no one’s ever successfully laid siege to Mordeina, not even Karak.”
“No matter how big their storehouses,” Aurelia said, “if they try to starve us out it would not take very long, not with thousands of people pouring into the city.”
“Let’s hope they’re too overconfident for that,” Antonil said. “For all our sakes.”
“Enough of this,” Tarlak said. “We worry about dying tomorrow, but tonight! Tonight is for fun!”
He downed the rest of his wine and bowed to the rest.
“I hear music in the distance,” he said. “And there’s bound to be a pretty lass dancing to it.”
“I better go with,” Haern said as he stood. “I’d hate for him to act too big a fool.”
“But that’s what I’m good at,” they heard Tarlak argue as the two vanished into a sea of torches and revelry.
“I best see to my men as well,” Sergan said, hefting his ax onto his shoulder. “And crack some heads that get a bit too much drink in them, if you know what I mean.”
“Go easy on them,” Antonil said, grinning. “I want my soldiers to make a good impression when they enter the city, and I doubt they’ll look too impressive covered with black eyes and broken noses.”
“As you wish,” Sergan said with a bow.
That left just Harruq and Aurelia with the king, who leaned back and chewed on his lip.
“Where’s the paladin?” he asked.
“Lathaar’s out somewhere with Mira,” Harruq said, grabbing a slab of meat from a plate between them. “He’s not much for the whole drinking and celebrating thing, I gather.”
“I see. And the Ash Guild?”
Harruq shrugged and looked to Aurelia.
“I don’t know,” she said. “My guess is they’ve snuck into Mordeina. Wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already setting up shop. I pity the thieves they set their sights on.”
Antonil nodded, chewing his lip harder.
“I’ve received notice from the queen,” he said. “She somehow discovered an elf travels with us. She wants to meet you, Aurelia. I don’t know why, but she requested your immediate presence when we enter the city.”
“I will not go alone,” she said, taking Harruq’s hand.
“You won’t,” Antonil assured her. “I will be there, as will Tarlak and your husband. I don’t know if she shares her husband’s hatred of your kind, but if she does, I won’t stand for it. If I must, I will take my people and leave.”
Aurelia glanced about the camp, hearing the songs and seeing the cheer.
“There will not be many that go with you,” she said.
; “Even if I go alone, I will still go.” He stood and bowed to her. “My thanks to you both. You’ve saved many lives, and given all of us hope against the chasing darkness. Ashhur watch over you.”
He retired to his tent. Aurelia looped her arms around Harruq and leaned close.
“I’m worried,” she said. “They’ve all had hard months of travel. I don’t want them to suffer more just because of me.”
The half-orc kissed her cheek. “Nonsense,” he said. “It’d be because of someone else’s ignorance, not you. And you better believe I’m not staying there without you. Well, not unless the food is really good and they have those places with all the girls where you can…”
She elbowed him, and as he grunted she pushed him to the ground and laughed.
“You’d miss me in a heartbeat and you know it, no matter how good the food or pretty and easy the girls.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harruq said, grabbing her arm and pulling her atop him. “See what you’ve done to me? Big tough orc, and I can’t stand being away from you for a moment.”
She kissed him, then winked. “You love it.”
Harruq sighed. “I know.”
Aurelia snapped her fingers, and a small fire burst to life on the grass beside them. The two cuddled beside it, each anxious about coming day.
M ost were packing before the sun had risen, in spite of their hangovers. Mordeina awaited them, filled with food, comfort, companionship and warmth. After months of hardship, it seemed paradise was but a few miles away. When the sun finally rose, they began. Antonil led the way, his crown shining and his armor freshly polished.
An hour later the city came into view. First they saw the walls, gigantic and towering. They could make out soldiers walking across the tops between enormous banners showing a sword breaking against a shield, the symbol of the Baedan family line. Two doors made of wood and iron flung open as they approached. They heard trumpets sound, and it renewed their excitement. The only structure taller than the walls was the castle, it too made of the same white stone. Six towers were evenly spaced within the walls, all waving different flags, and it was their spires they saw as they approached. Each had the symbol and color of previous kings and queens.
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