The Paladins

by David Dalglish

  “By Karak’s bearded ghost?”

  He went from standing on grass to air, and he dropped with a surprised yelp. Dirt passed over his eyes, and then he was in pure darkness. His feet hit ground, and the landing jarred his knees. He started to fall, then his body halted as it struck stone. A thousand curses ran through his mind, and he wanted to yell all of them.

  “What was that?” he asked instead.

  “Arthur had all our tunnels dug and worked by us,” Jerek said, his voice a few feet ahead of him. “All but this one.”

  Jerico pulled his shield off his back. At his touch it lit up, revealing his surroundings. He and Jerek were in a cramped space cut out of dirt and stone. Before them was a small tunnel, so long that his light could not reach its end. A foot above his head were planks of wood, and he pressed against them with his hand, still surprised by their solidity.

  “Magic?” he asked.

  “Believe so. This was back when he and his brother first had their fallout. Brought a wizard all the way over from Veldaren, if you’d believe it, some queer looking man in yellow. Arthur wanted someone not associated with the council.”

  “The activation phrase?”

  Jerek shrugged.

  “Wizard’s idea. Most of the other tunnels have been found, but not this one.” He frowned. “Going to be a tight fit with all that armor.”

  “I’m not taking it off.”

  “You might get stuck.”

  Jerico looked at the cramped tunnel ahead. While he could currently stand, going on ahead would involve crawling on his hands and knees. He thought about what it might be like to be stuck in such a claustrophobic space.

  “I’ll manage,” he said, trying not to sound worried. He was the hero of the Gulch, after all. Hate to disappoint the hunter.

  Jerek shrugged, then fell to his hands and knees and began crawling. Jerico swallowed, took a deep breath, then wondered where the air was coming from. Reminding himself others had used the tunnel plenty of times before, he slung his shield onto his back, returning them to darkness. Using his hands to feel ahead, he crawled into the tunnel after Jerek.

  His armor scratched and creaked, and he didn’t want to imagine the damage he was doing to it. Probably take all day to bang out and polish the dents. In the tight space, the noise was tremendous.

  “Hey, Jerek?”

  “Yeah?”

  He stopped a moment to catch his breath.

  “Can anyone hear us above ground?”

  “Normally I’d say no, but damn you’re making a ruckus.”

  Jerico laughed.

  “Let’s hope they have no shovels, then.”

  Progress was slow, one hand after the other. So far there seemed to be no turns, but he feared banging his head against one when they reached it. The tunnel had a very steady slope downward, which helped a little. Often he had to shift his weight one way or the other as a piece of his armor or an edge of his shield caught a rock. The ground itself was wet and cold, which explained Jerek’s appearance when they had first met. As the minutes wore on, Jerico felt the weight of the earth above him growing more present in his mind, and it seemed he could not catch his breath.

  “One of these days,” he muttered. “One of these days, I’m going to enter your lord’s castle through the front door, just to say I did.”

  “What’s that?” Jerek called out. His voice was disturbingly far away, and Jerico pushed himself along faster.

  “I asked how long does it normally take to get to the castle?”

  “An hour, but at your rate, I’m thinking three.”

  Jerico pressed his forehead against the back of his hands as he took another deep breath.

  “It would’ve been easier to fight my way through Sebastian’s army. More exciting, too.”

  Jerek’s laughter echoed from up ahead, urging Jerico on. After what felt like an eternity, his fingers brushed against the first turn. Following it, his stomach lurched as the path downward steepened tremendously.

  “If you’re covered with enough mud, you can just push yourself down and slide,” Jerek told him, having waited there for his arrival. Jerico jumped at the sound of his voice so close, and was glad the darkness hid the descent.

  “I don’t think I’ll be doing much sliding,” he said.

  “I think you’ll be surprised.”

  He heard the sound of skittering rocks, and then silence. Jerico followed, crawling along. His blood rushed to his head, but movement was certainly easier. He pulled himself along for ten more feet or so, then found himself at an even steeper decline. Deciding to give it a shot, he dug his fingers into the dirt and flung himself forward. The following sensation of speeding down a drop in pitch black was something he never, ever wanted to endure again.

  At the bottom he heard steps, and then an arm grabbed his. To his surprise, he was able to stand, and removing his shield, he lit the space up with its light.

  “Welcome to the deepest cave,” Jerek said, gesturing. It was about thrice their height, though the stalactites were long enough that Jerico could reach up and brush them with his fingers. The walls, floors, and ceiling were wet, and water dripped constantly from above.

  “I thought it’d take an hour,” Jerico said as he glanced behind him, seeing that they’d emerged from a manmade tunnel into the natural cave.

  “It will. Never said we’d be crawling the whole way, though.”

  Jerico clenched his teeth together.

  “There’s many, many things I want to call you right now,” he told his guide, who only laughed.

  “Come on,” he said. “And step lightly. The ground is slick, and with all that weight, you might take a nasty tumble.”

  Slick floor or not, Jerico was just glad to stand, and have the light of his shield once more. Jerek led the way, and he followed, once more admiring the beauty of the cave. He had no idea whether or not it connected to the others that he and Kaide had used, but it wouldn’t have surprised him. The minutes passed as they made their way carefully through the cave. Many times they encountered sections where the floor had been carved into steps, or passageways had been widened. The ugly marks of pickaxes and hammers ruined the beauty, but at the same time, after his weary crawl, Jerico felt glad to not have to do it again.

  At last they reached the end. Above them was a tall ladder, at least twenty feet high, and above that, a trapdoor.

  “Guests first,” Jerek said, gesturing.

  Jerico put his shield on his back, returning them to darkness. Grabbing the rungs of the ladder, he tested their strength and found them thankfully strong, without an ounce of give. Climbing until his head bumped against the top, he felt against it with a free hand.

  “There a latch?” he asked.

  “The side closest to you. You’ll find it. Push up.”

  Jerico finally did, and when cool, fresh air blew against his face, he felt happy enough to cry. Crawling out, he found himself in the center of Arthur’s courtyard, emerging from a hole. Rubbing his eyes, he looked to his left and saw a bench and realized he and Arthur had sat and talked mere feet from the tunnel exit.

  “If a siege ever went sour, this is where Arthur would flee, isn’t it?” he asked as he helped Jerek up.

  “That’s the idea,” Jerek said, closing the trapdoor behind him. The top was covered with sod and grass, and Jerek did his best to smooth it out. The two looked at one another, both covered with mud. Jerek gave him a grin.

  “I think you look fit to meet a lord, don’t you?”

  Jerico pointed at him, his finger an inch from his nose.

  “One day,” he said. “Just...one day.”

  Jerek smirked, then led him into the castle. He didn’t make it far. Men in armor Jerico had never met before waited in the next room, and they slapped his back and congratulated him. Jerico couldn’t tell if it was for surviving the Green Gulch, or just the travel through the damn tunnel. All of them looked tired, their strength sapped by the controlled rations and constant stres
s. His presence buoyed them, and Jerico did his best to smile and accept their greeting graciously.

  At the door to Arthur’s room, Jerek knocked several times, then stepped aside. As it opened, Jerico knelt in respect and dipped his head. His knee smeared mud across the floor, and a chunk of dirt fell from his red hair and onto the carpet.

  “Milord,” Jerico said, grinning up at Arthur’s stunned expression. “I heard you could use an extra shield on your walls, and I’ve come to offer mine.”

  Arthur embraced him, either not noticing or not caring that he dirtied his expensive bedrobes and left his hands wet with mud.

  “That I could, paladin,” Arthur said. “That I could.”

  19

  Valessa walked through the walls surrounding the Blood Tower to the empty land beyond. The silence was blessed to her. With a sigh, she let her armor and cloak vanish, adopting the image of how she had always been, plain clothes and all. With Cyric remaining in Willshire, along with half his men, she’d assumed his mantle of leadership. Not that the lions didn’t have their say. Kayne and Lilah were always about, patrolling, watching. They spoke little, but when they did, they were obeyed without question.

  Night had fallen, and while most guards slept, Valessa would not. She looked to the clear sky and tried to ignore the burning red star shining in the distance, mocking her, always reminding her of her failure, her unfinished mission.

  Soft footsteps padded behind her. She looked back, saw one of the lions there. She held back her grimace. Over time she should have grown more comfortable in their presence, but so far she had not. Her nocturnal visitor was Kayne, the male, slightly larger and with a fiery mane about his neck.

  “You are troubled,” Kayne said, resting on his haunches beside her.

  “I am tired. I was trained for stealth and assassination, not preparing defenses and managing supplies.”

  Kayne breathed out heavily through his nose.

  “You know that is not what I speak of. I am of a world you do not know, and my eyes glimpse what mortal eyes cannot. I see the uncertainty of your faith. I smell your doubt. The rest sleep, and we have solitude here. Tell me your fear.”

  Valessa looked to the distance, imagining the people of Willshire watching Cyric’s preparations. What would they think? What would they believe?

  “He says he is Karak,” she said to the lion. “Not that he works his will, or hears his voice, but that he is Karak, returned in mortal flesh. In my training to be a gray sister, we heard of Karak’s return, of his freedom from the elven whore’s prison...but it was always a day of glory, an ultimate defeat of chaos and false gods. The world was to shake, and a million voices cry out in triumph.”

  “You doubt him?” Kayne asked, his voice even deeper than Lilah’s. Heat wafted over her from his mouth. It felt like an inferno rumbled in the lion’s belly.

  “Of course I doubt him. How is what he says not blasphemy? Shouldn’t Karak strike him down for such claims?”

  Kayne shook his head, an odd motion to see from a creature so large and magnificent.

  “In many ways, Cyric is Karak made flesh. His power embodies him, his presence fills him, and he does speak our god’s words in all matters of faith.”

  Valessa frowned. That wasn’t good enough. Kayne was avoiding the question, giving her excuses and explanations instead of real answers.

  “Then he’s wrong,” she said. “He isn’t Karak, not in the way our prophets have foretold.”

  Kayne looked at her, and the intelligence in his eyes frightened her in a way no mortal weapon ever could.

  “No,” the lion said at last. “He is not.”

  “Then it is blasphemy.”

  “It is a mere reflection of the truth.”

  “There is only one truth! Karak cannot let this go on!”

  Kayne leapt toward her. His eyes met hers, his teeth were bared and stopped just inches from her breasts.

  “Would you tell a god what he can and cannot do?” asked the lion. “Cyric will accomplish what none have done in ages. He will bring back the old and true ways to the North, and beyond. The faithful will grow numerous, honed with fire and blade. So long as the priest serves, and furthers the cause of our god, then I am to protect him. As should you.”

  She refused to back down, to let the creature see her fear.

  “I will listen,” she told Kayne. “And I will obey, but I will not call him god, nor call him Karak.”

  “Tread carefully,” Kayne said, snarling. “My teeth can consume more than flesh. You are not safe, not from me. Do not think yourself forgiven for your failure.”

  “I would never,” she said. It took all her strength to walk past his bared teeth. She had thought herself unable to feel worldly sensations, but the creature was not of their world. The heat of his body radiated across her, made her feel alive for the first time since Darius killed her. But that only heightened the awareness of her pain, made her realize how much had been taken from her.

  At the entrance to the Blood Tower, she stopped and looked up at the high window, which was lit with a candle.

  “Your home is overrun by a madman,” she whispered, thinking of Robert locked inside, helpless as Cyric as filled the heads of his men with promises of eternity. When Cyric spread his influence south, when he conquered the priesthood in Mordeina and began to travel east, might she one day feel the same?

  Icy fear stung her non-beating heart. Dangerous thoughts, she realized, far more dangerous than she’d believed herself capable of. Cyric did Karak’s will. She had to trust that. She had to believe.

  Because the alternative was so much worse.

  In the first village Sandra had come to, walking on bleeding feet and with an empty stomach, they’d fed her, repaired her clothes, and sent her on her way. They’d known her, supported her brother, but did not know where he’d been. Tombrook, they told her. Go to Tombrook, and someone there would know. And so she did, carrying her dagger in one hand and a satchel of dried food in the other.

  At Tombrook, when she mentioned Kaide’s name, they hushed her and took her to their village elder, who summoned one of his grandsons.

  “He’s a fast lad, and knows many paths,” the old man said, his eyes milky white and his teeth black. “I trust he might take you somewhere you want to go.”

  The grandson was a boy of fourteen, and he carried a large sack of loaves over his shoulder.

  “Will we need that much food?” she asked him.

  “Food ain’t for you,” had been his reply.

  And so she followed him out to the hills. Arthur’s castle was close, she knew, and for much of the time they walked along the only road toward it. After a time, the boy veered off, into a heavy patch of brush and thorns that seemed to stretch for miles. Briars pulled at her clothes, and her skin bled from many cuts, but the boy endured without complaint, and so would she. Then they reached the camp, a large clearing painstakingly cut into the brush. They hadn’t built any fires that might reveal their presence as they sat hidden, yet so close to the road.

  “You’re a godsend,” the first guard said to the boy, grabbing the sack. His eyes had swept over her without seeing her, and she smiled at him with her arms crossed.

  “Hello, Adam,” she said.

  He froze as if hit by lightning. The big man’s grin grew, and then he wrapped her in a bear hug.

  “Sandra!” he cried, and with that, many hurried her way. She greeted the men as best she could, then pushed them away.

  “I must see my brother,” she said.

  “And I seek my sister,” Kaide said, pushing Adam aside. A smile was on his face, and Sandra immediately felt relief at seeing it. He bore her no ill will, no anger, only an embrace she gladly returned.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?” she asked as the men returned to their posts. Kaide gestured to the sprawling camp.

  “No walls, no tents, no homes,” he said. “Though there’s a stream a bit farther in. We can walk there, and talk along the
way.”

  The brush had been carefully cleared, creating a pathway that weaved and curled so as to be unnoticeable from afar. Kaide led the way, and Sandra followed a step behind him.

  “So what has my little sister been up to?” he asked her. She could tell he was dying to know, but kept his tone gentle, uninterested.

  “Not near as much as you,” she said. “How goes the siege?”

  “We’ve not been here long, but we’ve assaulted nearly every supply wagon that’s tried to slip past. Twice now we’ve even sneaked into Greg’s camp and stolen food.”

  “Greg?”

  “Sir Gregane,” Kaide said, glancing back at her. “He’s in charge of the troops. You think Sebastian would be brave enough to leave his castle?” Her brother laughed. “Not likely. He won’t venture out until both mine and Arthur’s heads are on stakes. But it won’t happen. We’ll only get bolder. A hungry army poses little threat, and if we’re lucky, I can assault...”

  “Kaide,” Sandra said, grabbing his arm and stopping him. “I...Jerico and I were captured by a man named Luther. He leads an army to aid in the siege.”

  Kaide’s jaw clenched tight, and she could see the anger her words brought. Not at her, but at the thought of all his plans crumbling in an instant.

  “How many?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But at least four hundred, maybe five. He has paladins with him, too. Whatever chance we had, it’s gone now. We must withdraw.”

  Kaide nodded, but she knew he was only thinking, not necessarily agreeing with her. Her brother’s hands clenched into fists, then loosened.

  “You said you were captured. How did you escape?”

  “They let me go,” she said. “I was to bring you a message. Luther said for you to not interfere, and if you left now, we’d be rewarded.”

  “Rewarded?” Kaide snapped. “Rewarded? How? Will he give me Sebastian’s head? Will he give us vengeance for Ashvale? Of course not. They’ll keep their puppet lord alive, and when Arthur’s hanging in a gibbet, they’ll come for me. For us.” Kaide shook his head. “If he wants me gone, that means his victory is not so certain as you might think. I will not run now, not when Gregane’s army is so close to breaking. If Arthur would just ride out...”