Darius heard the words, and with strength born of desperation he clung to them in his mind. All the while, he pushed away the images, the blood. As his heart burned, he thought of Jerico, and how the simple act of saving him had thrust him onto this path.
Damn you, Jerico, he thought as Velixar set fire to the cabin with a wave of his hand. Damn you to the Abyss.
“Are you hungry?” Velixar asked.
Darius thought it impossible, but his stomach groaned, and he weakly nodded.
“Very well. Pick up your sword, and we will find you a meal.”
Darius grabbed the hilt of his greatsword. Deep inside, in a part of him that felt very small, he hoped it would lack the fire of faith, that it would remain plain steel and nothing more. When he lifted it into the air, it burned strong as ever, and that small piece of him burned along with it, just a dead branch meeting its proper fate.
* * * * *
Jerico spent the morning teaching the men how to hold a sword. It seemed like it should have been the most basic of things, but instead he learned how militaristic his childhood had been, where weaponry and training had been daily rituals.
“Higher, Jorel,” he said, readjusting the man’s grip. Beside him, Adam clutched the hilt with both hands, his meaty fists dwarfing the metal.
“Just one,” Jerico said, “we’ll look into getting you a bastard sword, perhaps, but for now, just use one.”
“Feels better using two,” Adam said.
“It’s too heavy using just one,” another man, Pat, agreed.
“They’re balanced for one,” Jerico said, trying very hard not to roll his eyes. “If it feels heavy, it means you need to strengthen your arm, and that won’t happen if you keep using two … Trent, what did I say about your feet?”
Thinking back, Jerico decided he had never given his instructors even a pittance of the respect they deserved. He’d hoped to have the men spar, but getting them to grip the weapon tight, but not too tight, with just one hand, and at the right angle from their bodies, felt like trying to teach a pack of dogs how to dance on two legs. Sure, they could do it, but it wasn’t coming natural.
“Seriously, Pat,” Jerico said, turning back. “Stop crossing your legs!”
“I got to piss,” Pat said, looking ashamed.
Jerico opened his mouth, then closed it, realizing he had no clue how to react. He wanted to ask why he hadn’t said so, why he’d waited, why he hadn’t just wandered off, taken care of business, and come back. Instead he gave him a dumb stare, then waved a hand.
“Hurry up,” he said, praying for the hundredth time for patience.
“When we get to spar?” Griff asked.
Jerico caught him giving Adam an evil look, and he knew then and there that when the twins sparred, both would end up needing stitches for days.
“You get to spar when I know neither of you will kill the other,” Jerico said, harsher than he meant.
“Hey Jer, like this?” another man asked, and Jerico rushed down the line to double-check. Everyone was shifting about, trying to make things perfect. The paladin kept seeing a hundred things wrong, and it felt like the past half hour had been nothing but fixing error after error after error …
“Goddamn piece of shit!” Pat screamed from further into the forest. Jerico spun, grabbing his mace. From the corner of his eye, he saw the men turning with him, several nearly cutting their neighbors or dropping their blade from the sudden, surprised reaction. He nearly felt like crying. Not much more than farmers, Kaide had told him before they started. No kidding.
Pat came rushing back to them, but instead of being under attack, he was running as fast as he could while trying to remove his shirt and pants.
“What’s going on?” Jerico asked, baffled.
Then the smell hit.
“Skunk!” Adam and Griff swore in unison.
“Damn, Pat, you go and piss on one?” asked Jorel.
Jerico pressed his nose shut with his fingers, his eyes watering at the smell. As Pat neared, the rest gave way, not wanting to get too close.
“What is going on out here?” Kaide asked, stepping out from his cabin. He frowned, sniffed, and then pulled his shirt up to his nose. “Damn it, Pat, a stream’s southwest of here. Get in it, and don’t come out until you see the moon.”
“Sorry,” Pat said, his eyes running, his face red. The rest of the men were laughing at him, and Jerico couldn’t help but chuckle, no matter how bad he felt for Pat.
“Can’t you do something about that?” Kaide asked, joining Jerico’s side.
“I can heal broken bones and torn flesh,” Jerico said, rubbing his nose. “But that evil is beyond me.”
They both laughed, and were still laughing when they heard the sound of hooves thundering across the ground. When they saw the pale look on the rider’s face, their laughter died.
“Him!” the man screamed, pointing at Jerico. “He did this!”
Jerico looked to Kaide, and he shrugged, not understanding.
“Calm down, Ned,” Kaide said, offering his hand to help the man dismount. Ned did so, still glaring at Jerico. When the paladin neared to listen, Kaide shot him a look, so he stepped back until he was out of earshot.
“Enough practice,” Jerico said, realizing the rest of the men were still lingering about. “Take a break, and put your weapons away. Carefully!”
As they scattered, muttering amongst themselves, Jerico watched Kaide’s face. Outwardly he showed little sign, but his eyes hardened, and his whole body turned rigid. At last he hugged the rider, then approached Jerico, who didn’t fail to notice the man’s hands balled into fists.
“What’s going—”
Kaide struck him in the mouth, then kicked the back of his sore knee. Jerico went down, screaming in pain. The bandit leader landed on top of him, an elbow crushing his throat.
“You bastard,” Kaide said, his voice quiet, cold. “You just couldn’t leave things be, could you? Always have to interfere.”
“I don’t understand,” Jerico said, his words cracking.
“You will. You’re coming with me to Stonahm. I’ll let you see what a fucking mess you’ve made.”
Word spread to the rest of the camp, but given how limited they were on horses, only one other could go with Kaide and Jerico, the short man, Barry.
“Is my family all right?” he asked Ned as they saddled up. “Tell me, is she all right?”
The rider refused to say, even when Barry grabbed him by the shoulders and screamed in his face.
“Look me in the eye!” he cried, shaking him. “Why won’t you look me in the damn eye?”
It’d taken two men to pull him off. Now he rode behind Jerico and Kaide, head down and refusing to say a word. The hours crawled, and when they stopped to let their horses rest, not a shred of conversation was spoken between the three. As they neared Stonahm, there was no denying the cloud of smoke in the sky, nor where it was rising from.
“She’s all right,” Ned said upon seeing the smoke. “I know it. She’s all right, and my boys, too.”
Kaide’s glare was cold enough to freeze the skin on Jerico’s neck.
Jerico felt some relief as they finally rode into the village. The smoke was only from a few homes, not all of them as he’d initially feared. People milled about, looking as if they’d just survived a battle. Seeing Kaide’s approach, they began to gather.
“Jess!” Barry screamed. “Where’s Jess!”
Two boys pushed through the crowd, and they leapt into Barry’s arms as he dismounted. Jerico remained on his horse, feeling lost. People were shouting and crying all at once, a mixture of anger and heartbreak. Kaide tried to soothe them, but soon gave up.
“Where’s Beth?” he asked repeatedly. “I said where’s Beth?”
“With the others,” said a farmer. “Kalgan’s looking over them.”
“Come on,” Kaide said. Jerico dismounted and followed, leading his horse behind him.
The wounded had been
too many to fit into a single hut, so they lay spread out on blankets in the open air. Jerico feared to count how many. Kalgan walked among them, his clothes and hands coated with blood. When he saw their approach, he looked at them with dull, expressionless eyes. In the corner, Barry wept over the still body of his wife while his two boys clutched him tightly.
“Kaide,” Kalgan said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
He pointed to where Beth sat on the blankets, staring into nowhere. Kaide called her name, and when she saw him, she burst into tears. Jerico stood, feeling the intruder, as the father ran to his daughter.
“Do you remember what I said?” Kalgan asked, trying futilely to wipe his hands on his robe. “Do you remember?”
“I do,” Jerico said, feeling a knot swell in his throat.
“Good. I hope you remember until the day you die.”
Kalgan went on his way. Jerico looked about. He saw at least seven dead, and thrice that wounded. On every street at least one building had been burned, and in the distance, he saw the torched remains of an entire field of crops. The lump in his throat swelled, and he had to struggle to keep his hands from shaking. After a horrific wait, Kaide finally kissed his daughter’s head and returned.
“You attacked one of Sebastian’s knights,” Kaide said, his glare full of fire. “You struck him, beat him down, and then sent him on his way. You damn fool, this is what you’ve done.”
“He was going to rape-”
“I don’t care!” Kaide shouted. “One woman? One rape? Do you know what they did here? A hundred knights came with swords and armor, burned their food, took every woman they pleased, and killed whoever resisted. One woman, you fucking paladin, all that to stop the rape of one woman? A hundred women can now blame you. A hundred women…”
He choked up, and Jerico looked to Beth with newborn dread.
“Even her?” he asked.
There were tears in Kaide’s eyes when he looked back.
“Even her.”
CHAPTER TEN
They stayed in the homes of people that would take them. For Jerico, that meant he had none, so he slept in the hut that had been his during his injury. He lay inside, feeling drained beyond belief. He’d knelt and prayed with any who would accept it, but even those with severe injuries seemed hesitant. Normally he would have felt anger, but instead he felt only sadness. Shouting to them how he’d been in the right felt hollow, and selfish. No matter his healing touch, he could not bring back the dead, nor remove the painful memories they’d endured.
“I wasn’t wrong,” Jerico murmured, trying to sleep. Night had finally come, and no one had been happier to see the rise of the moon than him. Free of his armor, he tried to relax, and force his mind from the hundred horror stories he’d had confessed to him. He tried to forget Barry’s wail, forget that single look of betrayal Beth had given him when she’d turned his way. Unable to help it, Jerico felt tears slide down his face.
The door to his hut opened. For some reason, Jerico knew who would be there.
“Close the door,” he said. “I would hate for anyone to see you like this.”
Barry stood at the entrance. In one hand he held a bottle, in the other, a knife.
“I ain’t afraid of what they’ll say,” the man said, his speech slurred from the alcohol. “You think I care?”
He stepped further in, and the door shut behind him. Jerico sat up, glancing toward his mace and shield. If he acted quick, he could still retrieve them. But he didn’t.
“What are you here for, Barry?” he asked.
“You,” he said. He sniffed, and his red eyes were heavy with tears. “My Jess … they say she ran. The others, the ones that didn’t fight it … but no, Jess ran. Stupid woman, she ran, and now who’ll raise my boys? Me?”
He laughed, the bottle swinging loosely in his hand.
“I’m no good. Never been. Was lucky enough to get Jess. Why’d you do it, Jerico? Don’t you ever think? Every damn peasant boy knows you leave a lord’s knights well enough alone. Boys! But you … you…”
He waved the knife, and he took an uncertain step toward him. Jerico remained still, refusing to look away from that pained gaze.
“Are you here to kill me, Barry?”
Barry laughed.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Don’t think even the gods know what I’m gonna do, but I know what I want to do. I want to jam this knife so far down your throat you choke on my elbow. You were supposed to help us, Jerico. You were supposed to help us…”
Jerico stood slowly to make sure Barry knew he posed no threat. From the corner of his eye he watched the unsteady knife. So far it wasn’t poised to stab. Not yet, but close.
“Tell me what you want,” he said. “Tell me, so I may grant it.”
Barry pointed the knife at him.
“I want you to know you was wrong. I want to hear it from you. I want a goddamn apology. Don’t you get it? This is all your fault, and I won’t let you say otherwise. I won’t let you!”
Jerico took a deep breath. He would not lie, not now, not ever. He doubted anything he could say would comfort him, so he spoke the truth and prayed it would be enough.
“I’m not sorry,” he said. “Not for saving that woman. Not for doing what we both know was right. The only thing I’m sorry for is that I wasn’t here to protect everyone. That I couldn’t have died with my shield on my arm and my mace in my hand, standing against those knights, be they a hundred or a hundred thousand. I’m just one man, Barry. One man, foolish, weak, exhausted, and alone. Take my life if you want it. I won’t stop you.”
Barry flung his bottle to the ground, where it shattered.
“You think you can talk yourself outta this? You think I won’t do it? I will. I fucking will!”
“You won’t.”
Kaide stepped inside, his dirk drawn. He glanced at the broken bottle, then at Jerico.
“Go back to your boys, Barry,” Kaide said. “I’d hate for you to do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”
Barry wavered, and he looked like a mouse caught between two cats. The knife shook in his unsteady hand.
“He ain’t worth it,” he said, putting away the knife. His shoulder bumped into Kaide’s as he walked out of the hut. “I thought he was, but he ain’t.”
Kaide watched him go, then shut the door behind him.
“Thank you,” Jerico said.
“Forget it. He’s right, you know? You don’t tease a boar, then turn your back to it. You let this entire village suffer, and for what? So you could play the hero? Feel better about yourself? What you stopped happens every day in every single village across Dezrel. It’s shit, it’s wrong, but so’s a hundred other things. We close our eyes, clench our teeth, and endure until we have the strength to fight back.”
“You ask the impossible, Kaide. If I see an innocent suffering harm, I’ll stop it. I won’t keep my hands still because I fear the reactions of an evil world.”
Kaide rolled his eyes.
“Such prepared, proud words that don’t mean shit. We’re not you. What do you think would have happened if this village had fought back?”
“I have no delusions,” said Jerico. “I’ll die one day, probably soon, and it’ll be defending someone without the strength to defend themselves. Just because I die doesn’t mean it was wrong to do so. If your private war against Sebastian never succeeds, does that mean you were wrong to fight him? We must fight, and fight, so that this dark world knows hope. One day, maybe it will even know victory. I pray to Ashhur it does.”
Kaide crossed his arms and looked away. His voice softened.
“This is as much my fault as yours either way. If not for my rebellion, Sebastian might have ignored this, or only sent a few to find out who had struck at the knight.”
Jerico put a hand on Kaide’s shoulder.
“Blame the evil on those who committed it,” he said. “Not yourself. Not others. Sebastian sent the knights, and the knights
themselves burned, looted, and raped. If you must feel wrath, then direct it at them.”
Kaide looked at him with an expression akin to wonder.
“Do you really feel no regret? No remorse? Are you not even human?”
Jerico chuckled, even though he felt ready to collapse from his exhaustion.
“I do. More keenly than you could know. I could have protected her, Kaide. Beth wanted to come with me, but I refused. I told her to remain here. When the knights came, when they … she could have been safe. I was angry. Bitter. I should have said yes. I should have … the way she looked at me, she knows it, too. I’m sorry, Kaide. I should have stayed. I could have given myself up, and spared the rest of the village.”
“And not fought?”
“I’ll die to protect others. If that is what it would have taken, then yes.”
The bandit leader walked to the door, and he rested his weight against it as he thought.
“You confuse me, paladin. But at least I know I can trust you. This is the last straw. Sebastian’s gone too far. Stories of this will spread throughout the North, and we must fan the flames of rebellion while we still can. Tomorrow morning, we ride. I have one ally, and he must be spurred into action. The time for secrecy and stealth is over.”
“And who is this ally?” Jerico asked.
Kaide glanced at him, a tired grin on his face.
“Arthur Hemman, Sebastian’s disgraced brother.”
* * * * *
Barry remained behind to oversee the rebuilding efforts, as well as bring in more men from the forest hideout. Food would be scarce, but Kaide had kept a small amount of gold from being distributed, and he told Barry to use all of it to prevent them from starving.
“No loved one of mine goes hungry,” he had said before they rode northwest. “Not now. Not ever again.”
They packed light, Kaide insisting they could fill their packs on the trip there.
“I’ve given nearly every village at least one satchel of gold,” he said as they rode. “If there’s a man more beloved in the North than I, I’d like to meet him.”
“Nothing says loyalty like stolen coin,” Jerico said. Kaide glared but let the matter drop. He was right about the supplies, Jerico soon found out. They stopped at three different villages, and the men and women warmed immediately to their presence when they heard Kaide’s name. After the third, they avoided the towns, for their packs overflowed with waterskins and salted meats, and Kaide wanted no more risk of Sebastian hearing of his ride.
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