H aern slipped into the main cathedral, the only sound he made coming from the drops of blood falling from his sabers onto the stone floor. The rows of pews were empty. Four priests knelt before a statue of Karak, pleading for forgiveness. Haern ran down the aisle, his blood thirst far from sated. Guards were nothing. Even the priests were nothing. There was one he wanted, one in particular.
In a single motion he stabbed each saber through the prostrate back of a priest, yanked them free, and curled them around the throats of the remaining two. Another yank and all four fell, bleeding out like sacrifices upon the altar. Haern grabbed the statue’s arm and hoisted himself up so he could wipe blood onto the edifice’s face.
“Their blood is on you,” the assassin whispered. “As it damn well should be.”
A door to the far side cracked open, and a man holding a book in one hand and a small leather whip in the other stepped into the cathedral.
“Have you finished your absolutions?” the man asked as he looked up from his book. The first thing he saw was Haern’s boot just before it crushed his nose. He spun to the ground, crying out as he felt his arm twist and tighten behind his back. A brutal jerk, and he heard the bones of his shoulder crack. He cried out from the unbearable pain.
“Tell me,” Haern whispered into the man’s ear. “Where is Hayden?”
“F or the crime of murder, and attempted murder, Bernard Ulath, you have been sentenced to hang.”
The lone soldier atop the stone with Bernard pulled the cloth from the priest’s face so all witnessing could verify it was he who was to be hanged. This done, he replaced the cloth. On the ground, twelve soldiers grabbed the rope attached to the wood floor. Once ordered, they would pull as one, dropping Bernard between the stones.
As the noose slid around his neck, Bernard put his hand on the soldier’s arm. The soldier recoiled as if burned. The mask moved, and they could tell he was speaking. Clearly unnerved, the soldier stepped away and nodded to the twelve below.
“This is it,” Tarlak said. “At least we don’t have to deal with a cheering crowd.”
The soldiers tensed and prepared to pull. The priests of Ashhur halted their singing, and the sudden silence was heavy. Harruq clutched Aurelia’s hand tight.
“Wrong,” he whispered. “This is wrong.”
In a shout that was like thunder, the commanding soldier ordered the rope to be pulled.
H aern kicked open the door, no longer caring for stealth and subtlety. The room was small and well-furnished. Sitting in a chair before a gigantic tome, a smile on his face and a laugh in his throat, was Hayden.
“I hoped you would arrive,” he said as he stood.
“Foolish of you,” Haern said, clanging his sabers together. “You won’t die quick like the others.”
Hayden laughed. “I won’t die at all.”
Red light exploded all around him. The assassin swore, trying to activate the magic of his ring to teleport away. Instead the ring shattered, its pieces splintering into his flesh. He collapsed, and with blurred vision saw glowing runes carved into the floor. He felt every bit of his strength leaving his body, and in the back of his head he heard a soft buzzing.
“We have much to discuss, you and I,” Hayden said as he turned his chair to face Haern and sat down. “You’ve been killing my priests, haven’t you?”
“Not the only one,” Haern said, his heart leaping as he realized what the buzzing was. Deep in the runes on the floor was a spell forcing him to answer, and to answer truthfully.
“The work you’ve done to my priests has been exquisite,” Hayden said. A sick grin spread across his face. “Far better than I could have done.”
The high priest picked up a dagger that rested in the center of the tome.
“I knew you would not let Bernard die,” he continued. “At least, not die alone. You’ve been elusive, but now you’re mine. Tell me your name, heathen.”
“Haern, Watcher of Neldar, member of the Eschaton.”
“The Eschaton,” Hayden said, his eyes lighting up. “Karak has given me such a perfect gift.”
He placed the dagger on Haern’s throat, a look of pure contempt on his face.
A s the wood plank shot out from underneath Bernard, two daggers flew through the air, exploding into flame as they touched the rope. The priest fell straight down, collapsing limp as he hit the ground.
“What in the Abyss is going on here?” Tarlak asked as several more daggers came whirling in, striking soldiers in their chests and hands.
“There!” Harruq shouted, pointing along the top of the wall. Mier and Nien waved at the Eschaton, then threw a few more daggers before leaping off and out of the city.
“We have company,” Lathaar said, bringing everyone’s attention behind them, where Deathmask and Veliana pushed their way through the stunned gathering of priests. The remaining soldiers drew their weapons, but many lay on the ground, made helpless by the magical daggers that paralyzed their arms and legs.
“People of Mordeina!” Deathmask shouted, his face completely covered by a massive cloud of magically suspended ash. Only his eyes twinkled through the cloth across his face. Veliana wore a similar mask, with a single hole for her good eye. “Karak’s justice no longer rules this city. The reign of his priests is done. Now is the time for ash and char, greed and gluttony, pleasure without pain.”
A wave of his hand and a wall of fire separated him from the guards that approached. Together the two turned and slipped through the group of priests.
“Enjoy your gift,” Deathmask said to them. “And stay out of my way.”
Lathaar ran to where Bernard lay on the ground and yanked off his black hood.
“He lives,” the paladin shouted to the others.
Harruq grabbed Tarlak by the arm and spun him around.
“Haern,” the half-orc said. “We blamed Haern!”
Tarlak winced as he realized the connection Harruq had made.
“We need to find him, now,” he said.
Aurelia closed her eyes, grabbing each of their wrists as she projected her sight a mile away. “No time,” she said, suddenly snapping open her eyes. “We go now.”
A blue portal ripped open before them, and before either could react, she pulled them through, deep into the heart of Karak’s temple.
“W hy do you hate us so?” Hayden asked as he let the dagger draw a small drop of blood. “Why this intense desire for vengeance?”
“Priests of Karak murdered someone I loved,” Haern said, the buzzing in his head growing stronger. “You’re no different from them.”
“Am I?” Hayden asked. “You know nothing of me, of what I have done. I know of Veldaren, a city of thieves, whores, and drunkards. This city is clean. This city is peaceful. I have made a land of order here. What have you done but kill and maim since you arrived?”
Louder and louder, like a legion of bees inside his skull. His hand slipped inside his cloak.
“I have mourned for Delysia,” Haern said. “That is all I have done. I fear that is all I will ever do.”
Hayden knelt down and shifted the dagger lower, resting on an artery.
“Then let me help you with your fear,” he said.
Haern shifted his hands, all his weight upon them. He smiled, even as he felt the dagger slowly cutting into his skin.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he said. The buzzing in his head vanished. “And you’re a bigger fool than I hoped.”
Hayden stopped his cutting long enough to glance down and see one of the runes he’d carved with blood scratched away by a small knife Haern held. His look of contempt turned to horror. His strength returned, Haern batted away the dagger and stabbed with his own. Hayden let the dagger fly limp from his hand and instead clapped. The sound was a shockwave in the small room. Haern flew back, unable to withstand the spell.
He expected to slam into the opposite wall, but instead strong hands grabbed him and held him steady.
“Need some help here?” Ha
rruq asked as Tarlak and Aurelia stepped in front of them, fire and ice glistening on their fingertips. Hayden hooked his hands together in prayer and bowed his head. The entire room darkened, and when their spells of fire and lances of ice tried to pierce the black, they dissipated into smoke. Hayden looked up, and it seemed the entire temple shook with his anger.
“Be gone from my house,” he said. The shadows stretched and grew all around the four Eschaton. The floor wobbled unsteadily, and the ceiling turned to darkened sky. As a sound of thunder rolled over them, they realized they were no longer within the temple, but outside.
“What the…” Harruq said before falling to his knees and vomiting.
“Impressive spell,” Tarlak said as he tried to catch his breath. “I need to remember that one.”
“We’re outside the city,” Aurelia said, the only one to have kept her stomach in check. “I think we’ll have to think twice before ever entering there again.”
The three fell silent as Haern stood, clutching his bleeding finger.
“I left my sabers inside,” he said.
“You left your brain in there as well,” Tarlak said. “What were you thinking?”
“I was doing what you should have,” Haern said. “Making Hayden pay.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know vengeance was part of Delysia’s teachings.”
“Enough!” Aurelia shouted, stepping between the two. “Just stop it.”
“We know it wasn’t you,” Harruq added. “Deathmask and his pets stopped Bernard’s execution. They were the ones killing the priests.”
Haern adjusted his cloaks, but his face, normally calm and controlled, cracked. His blue eyes sagged and drifted to the ground, while his mouth tightened.
“No,” he said. “I killed them. Deathmask only wanted to hurt them, make them fear his arrival. I ended their lives.”
Tarlak put a hand on Haern’s shoulder, but the assassin pulled away.
“I understand,” the wizard said. “Really, I do.”
“Do you?” Haern asked. “Then why is it you do nothing? Why is it we tolerate those who speak blasphemy and death? Why do we let them live when they deserving nothing, absolutely nothing?”
“Because we don’t either,” Tarlak said. “No one does. You of all people should understand that.”
Haern’s entire body rocked in denial. The blood running down his finger flicked across the grass as he let his arms sag and his dead stare shift to the wall looming behind them. When Aurelia went to put a hand on his shoulder, Tarlak stopped her. Instead Harruq hooked his arm around her waist and led her to the entrance, letting the original two Eschaton have their peace.
“This isn’t the same,” Haern said once they were gone.
“A wretched thief and murderer,” Tarlak said. “That’s what I remember.”
“It isn’t the same!” His belief was wild in his eyes, and it was not borne out of truth but desperation.
“Do you remember why Delysia first met you?” he asked. Haern’s hands curled into fists and shook at his sides.
“Yes,” he said. He fixed his stare at Tarlak’s feet, unwilling to meet his eyes. His heart, already overcome with pain, could not bear an additional strain of guilt.
“Are you sure?” Tarlak asked, his arms crossed and a side of his mouth tilted downward in a frown. “I’m not convinced.”
Haern saw flashes in his mind, of a father bleeding from a deep wound, and a child watching, just watching. Yes, he remembered.
“You’ve always been quick to condemn,” Tarlak said. “But Delysia had every reason to think you a monster. You helped kill her father and nearly killed her as well. But instead she loved you. She talked with you, reasoned and argued, and spent night after night at your side. I was mad as the Abyss at her for doing so. I was wrong then, and you’re wrong now. We carry out Ashhur’s will in all we do, and his call is to redeem, not execute!”
Haern gestured with his bleeding hand to the city behind them, smirking at its supposed greatness.
“So we let Karak have it then?” he asked. “Without a fight? Surrender control to his priests while we lick our wounds in the shadows and await our doom?”
“Don’t be dense,” Tarlak said. “You say you do this out of pain and love for Delysia. Stop doing everything she would hate. Return to camp and hide there. We need to figure out what nonsense is happening because of Bernard’s failed hanging.”
“As you wish,” Haern said. He meant it to sound more sarcastic but his heart was too weak. “Do I go an Eschaton, or as a prisoner?”
“As a friend,” the mage said. “Always as a friend.”
T arlak joined up with Harruq and Aurelia on the way to the hanging ground. He looked haggard, and his step lacked its normal spring.
“Will they try to hang Bernard again?” Harruq asked once the wizard caught up.
“I’m not sure,” Tarlak said. “But I have an idea. Just go with me, and remember, just tell the truth if anyone asks you anything.”
“Um, all right,” the half-orc said. He shrugged his shoulders as he gave Aurelia a look.
When they arrived, soldiers surrounded the area, weapons drawn. Their movements were jittery, and their eyes nervous. Several carried torches, while others glanced at the last bit of light as if it were a bad omen. When the soldiers saw their approach they ordered them to halt, a couple even raising their weapons as if expecting an attack.
“We are friends of King Antonil,” Tarlak shouted, hoping the king would hear. “And we come to offer counsel.”
One in the front recognized them from earlier and cleared the way. Inside the ring of soldiers they saw Antonil and Lathaar standing before the two giant stones. In between them sat Bernard, waiting for a decision on his fate. Mira sat above them, her feet dangling off the stone as she watched the soldiers.
“Hail and well met,” Tarlak said, grinning at the king. “So what’s transpired after we made our sudden exit?”
Antonil waited until the three were close enough to whisper before answering.
“They’ve sent for the queen,” he said. “Their law isn’t clear about what to do after a failed hanging. Besides that, I’ve cast doubt about his guilt. Deathmask made it pretty clear he was the one behind the attacks.”
“Never said he did them, though,” Tarlak said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Antonil argued. “I can use it. Let me talk to Queen Annabelle.”
Aurelia slipped between them and sat next to Bernard, who had his knees to his chest and his head leaning against the stone, his closed eyes turned to the emerging stars.
“I figure it best if I’m a small part of this,” she said to the others.
“I do not care about politics,” Bernard said to her, opening an eye to look at her and then smiling. “But whatever happens, I am still committed to helping you. Even if I have to jump headfirst off one of these stones.”
“You’re a sweetie,” Aurelia said as he closed his eye. “But let’s try to keep the dying to a minimum, shall we?”
“She’s here,” Antonil said, straightening up. The others stood and tried to look proper, except for Mira, who just crossed her legs and peered curiously at the queen’s arrival. She was flanked by twelve guards, each wielding a shield and spear. The four at the corners carried torches, and it was by their light they saw her highness. She looked tired, and her face appeared to have aged years in just hours. Harruq wondered just old she was. He had originally thought the woman in her fifties, but at the lines that creased her face and the way her hair was pulled back, thin and fading, he wondered just how off he was. She stopped and talked to a guard who had been waiting for her, listening as he explained what had happened during the execution.
“Very well,” the queen said when he had finished. “King Copernus, please, come forward so I may speak with you.”
“I am here,” Antonil said, bowing low. “What do you require of me?”
“Did you have any part in the serious transgression that t
ranspired here?” she asked.
“Your majesty, I was merely an observer. Those that saved Bernard are members of a fallen guild of Veldaren and hold no loyalties to me.”
The queen nodded. They could see her mind racing behind her eyes.
“My guards also tell me,” she said, “that these newcomers claimed the burnings and murders as their own deeds. Do any here dispute this?”
“It certainly casts doubt on Bernard having a hand in any of it,” Tarlak dared say. The queen frowned at him but held her tongue.
“Your majesty!” a voice shouted from behind them. The guards stepped apart as Hayden came hurrying through, clutching his holy symbol that dangled round his neck. He stopped at the queen’s side and bowed. When finished he pointed straight at Tarlak and smiled.
“It is him,” Hayden said. “He harbors the murderer, a member of his Eschaton mercenaries. They came into my beloved home, killed more than twenty of my priests, and escaped with the aid of him and the elf.”
The queen’s face darkened, and it seemed she aged yet another ten years.
“Is this true?” she asked Tarlak. “Is a member of your mercenaries murdering in my city?”
The wizard chuckled a bit, just quiet enough for Harruq to hear.
“No, your majesty,” he said. “No member of my Eschaton has done what you accuse.”
“He lies!” Hayden cried.
“Enough!” the queen shouted. “I want all involved in halting Bernard’s execution arrested. I will speak with them myself. As for you,” she said, bidding Bernard to rise. The priest did as he was told, offering a slight bow with his head.
“Yes, your majesty?” he asked.
“If you are guilty of these crimes, I pardon you of them. If you are innocent of them, then I ask for your understanding and forgiveness. Your priests have little to do with the chaos flooding my city, and I will not shed your blood in a pointless display.”
“I am humbled by your grace,” Bernard said, bowing again, this time much lower. Meanwhile Hayden seemed ready to explode in anger and frustration. He moved to speak but a single glare silenced him. The queen appeared to be in no mood. Without a word, he stormed off. The queen whispered an order to her guard, and as one they returned to the castle. Most of the lingering soldiers joined them, while a few others left for their homes and families. When they were alone, Harruq smacked Tarlak in the shoulder.
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