Paladins 02 - Clash of Faiths

by David Dalglish

  Her gaze held him. There was a charm in her words, and power in her eyes. The others watched as she slipped beside him, ran a finger along his neck, and then brushed his ear with her lips. She took in a soft breath, and then unleashed the fury of Karak. It was not her voice that screamed, but that of the Lion. The others clenched their hands against their heads, but the guard stood still, his mouth open. Blood dripped down his neck, spilling from his ears. When the roar ended, he collapsed.

  “He’ll live,” Valessa said as the others lifted their swords. “Though he’ll never hear from that ear again. Would anyone else like proof?”

  They let the gray sisters through, along with an escort of six nervous soldiers. Inside the castle, they waited several minutes, until at last a knight came forward and gestured for them to follow. They came before Lord Sebastian Hemman sitting on his throne, soldiers at either side of him. Valessa snickered at the protection. So cute.

  “Greetings, ladies of Karak,” Sebastian said, rising. “Consider me honored to have such revered guests come to my home. I hope the guards at the gate did not trouble you.”

  “No trouble,” Valessa said, and Claire turned her head to hide her smile.

  “I must confess, I’m not familiar with your Order. Are you paladins, or perhaps priestesses?”

  “We are what we are, and that is none of your concern,” Claire said, her humor vanishing. “Know only that we speak for the Stronghold, and for Karak. Word has come to us of a prisoner, and we believe him one we have hunted for the past weeks.”

  “Leave me,” Sebastian said to his soldiers, holding up a hand for the two women to pause. The soldiers began filing out, and none looked too happy with leaving their lord alone.

  “No, Gregane,” he said, stopping one of the knights. “You stay.”

  The burly knight stepped back, staying at the right hand of his lord.

  “The man you seek,” Sebastian said when the rest were gone. “Would you care to tell me his name?”

  The gray sisters exchanged a look, and Claire shrugged.

  “Darius,” Valessa said. “His name is Darius, and he once hailed from the Stronghold.”

  Sebastian stroked the hairs of his chin as he leaned back in his seat.

  “Have you come to find him,” he asked, “or kill him?”

  “Does it matter?” Claire asked.

  “It does, for you see, I had a very strange visitor last night. His words of caution are ... difficult to shake.”

  Valessa felt her stomach tighten, and she did not miss Claire’s eyes narrowing in anger.

  “This visitor,” Valessa asked, “was he a man with many faces, and eyes that burned like fire?”

  Sebastian looked surprised, but he hid it well.

  “He was. And he told me that while orders were initially given to execute Darius, circumstances have changed. He said I’d soon receive new orders from the Stronghold, signed by the hand of the High Enforcer.”

  “Let me guess,” Claire interrupted. “Those new orders would hand Darius over to him, the prophet?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “Something to that effect.”

  Valessa bit down a curse. She turned to Claire and lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “The commoners must never know of conflict between servants of Karak,” she whispered. “Do we dare challenge Velixar’s authority?”

  “Sebastian is no commoner. Surely a lord understands that even servants must sometimes quarrel.”

  “My ladies, if I may interrupt.” Sebastian smiled at them, and something opportunistic glinted in his eyes that made Valessa wary.

  “What is it?” Claire asked, no pretense of politeness in her words.

  “Now, for all I know, last night was just a strange dream, and gods are known to work in mysterious ways. Ashhur may have come in the guise of his enemy to save the life of a traitor, for example. To be prudent, I will wait some time for new orders, but until then, I know of another who is an enemy of Karak, whose death I think would benefit us all.”

  Valessa felt her anger grow, at both the lord and the prophet.

  “We are not assassins to be directed as you wish,” Claire seethed.

  “I understand. I am simply suggesting a wise use of your time while I wait for new orders. Now, should you perform this duty, and return without me having heard word from the Stronghold ...”

  He let his voice trail off as he took a drink of wine. The sisters exchanged another glance. Valessa could tell Claire wasn’t happy about this, but short of executing Sebastian, there weren’t too many options currently available to them.

  “I knew we should have come unnoticed,” Claire whispered.

  “Who is your target, the one that is such an affront to Karak?” Valessa asked.

  Sebastian downed the rest of the glass, licked his lips, and set it aside.

  “My older brother, Arthur. He lives in his castle, quite the recluse. But those of his retinue spread word of how the worship of Karak in our lands is unlawful, our enforcements unfair, and the tithes the people pay unjust. His castle is small, but well-guarded, and could withstand a siege for at least a year. The Castle of Caves, they call it. But you two ladies ...”

  “I know where the castle is,” Claire said. “Now give us your word that when we return, Darius will be ours to deal with as we desire.”

  “If no orders have been delivered to me stating otherwise.”

  Claire’s smile was rigid as stone.

  “Of course.”

  “Wait,” Valessa said before they could be excused. “I wish to see Darius first, with my own eyes.”

  Sebastian frowned. “Lady, I can assure you that he is in our custody, and properly taken care of.”

  She shook her head.

  “My own eyes, Sebastian. That is my demand, and I will not relent.”

  The lord glanced at Gregane, who nodded.

  “Very well,” Sebastian said, standing. “Follow me, but you must come alone. Gregane will have his eye on you at all times. No tricks. Any attempt made on Darius’s life will be treated as an attempt on my own.”

  Both of which you could never stop, Valessa thought, but instead she smiled and followed him past his throne and into the dungeon below. It was dark, damp, and smelled of blood and piss. She caught the jailor hiding in the corner, as if frightened to be seen in the presence of his lord. Valessa gave him little thought, for her attention was reserved for the man chained to the wall.

  “Darius?” she asked, approaching the bars.

  “Careful,” Gregane said, his sword drawn. “He is a dangerous man, after all.”

  Valessa knew that wasn’t why he kept his blade at ready, but pretended otherwise. She tilted her head, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The bound man didn’t seem like a paladin of Karak. He looked pale, tired, with his eyes sunken into his face. He was half-naked, wearing only torn underclothes. In the light of day he might have been handsome, but down there, he looked deserving of only pity.

  But she had no pity for a betrayer.

  “My, my,” Darius said, laughing. “They sent a gray sister after me? Am I that great a threat to Karak, that I must die in secret?”

  “You revealed your lack of faith before a crowd of thousands,” Valessa said. “While in full armor no less, still bearing the crest of the Lion. For that alone you should die.”

  “Perhaps. I thought killing Nevek and Lars was the greater crime, but what do I know?”

  “There, you have seen him,” Sebastian said, clearly impatient. “May we return to more pleasing environs?”

  “Are you not here to kill me?” Darius asked. He laughed again. “Such a shame. What happened, sister? Have you lost your courage?”

  Her hand reached for the dagger at her side, but Gregane was there, holding her wrist.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” he said.

  Valessa glared, debating. She was in the dungeon of a castle, with a hundred soldiers waiting on call. Was it really worth dying over a pathet
ic, failed paladin?

  “Forgive me,” she said, pulling her arm free of his grasp. “I have little patience when in the presence of heretics.”

  “Heretic?” For the first time, Darius spoke in anger. “Heretic? What heresy have I committed? What blasphemy have I spoken against Karak? I worship him still, with all my heart. Consider me lost, gray sister, and consider me a failure, but do not dare presume to understand the nature of my faith.”

  Valessa didn’t know what to say, so she stated the most obvious argument against him.

  “Then why does Karak not bless you? Why does he deny fire to your blade?”

  She stepped closer, and Gregane followed. The light of his torch bathed over Darius, and for the first time she saw his blackened hand and gasped.

  “You bear the mark,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

  “I know.”

  “The black hand ... that is not given lightly. Save your lies. Nothing you say can disprove the truth of Karak burned into your flesh.”

  Darius fell silent, and she waited for an answer. He offered none. Turning, she glared at Sebastian.

  “You play dangerous games,” she said, “daring to interfere with the will of Karak. I’ll do as you ask, this one time, only because even in Mordeina we hear of your reputation as a faithful servant. But do not test me, and do not dare betray me.”

  “Is that a threat?” Gregane asked, but Sebastian only smiled.

  “Of course, milady,” he said. “Now let us return to the light.”

  When they reentered the throne room, a knight stood beside Claire, looking angry and impatient.

  “Lord Hemman, if I could have a word,” he said, but Sebastian cut him off.

  “Show respect, Sir Mark. I have guests not yet dismissed. Speak out of turn again, and I will have your tongue.”

  The knight looked flustered but obeyed.

  “Would you like to stay here for the night?” Sebastian asked as Valessa joined Claire’s side.

  “We should begin our ride,” Claire said. “The Castle of Caves will take us time to reach, even on horseback. Until we meet again.”

  Neither bowed as they left.

  “Is Darius there and alive?” Claire asked as they exited the outer gate.

  “He is.”

  “Did you speak with him?”

  “I did. He bears the mark of the abandoned, Claire. It covers his entire hand. Never have I seen one so hated by Karak.”

  Claire nodded.

  “Then it will be good to get this business done, and execute such a faithless traitor.”

  Valessa frowned at the word faithless. So strange. She heard the desperate faith in Darius’s voice. No one was as skilled a liar as that, to put on such a performance. She didn’t want to imagine the turmoil that must be within his soul.

  “The sooner, the better,” Valessa agreed, wishing to think no more on the matter.

  *

  “The women are dangerous,” Gregane said when the gray sisters were gone. “Perhaps it would have been better to hand over the paladin now.”

  “Even the faithful are willing to make deals to reach their ends,” Sebastian said, waving dismissively. “I captured Darius, not them, and I will consider this my reward. Arthur’s been a thorn in my side long enough.”

  He glanced over to where Sir Mark waited, hands behind his back and his head bowed.

  “What is it?” he asked, annoyed.

  “The people of Stonahm,” the knight began. “They’ve rebelled against your rule.”

  Sebastian poured himself a cup of wine and sipped it. He felt his veins turn to ice as the words sank in.

  “How so?” he asked at last.

  “I’d come for tithes, but instead of handing them over, one of their men assaulted me when my back was turned. I was beaten, and sent away with orders never to return.”

  “You were there for tithes, and just tithes, I assume?”

  “Of course, milord.”

  Sebastian hurled the glass, which shattered against the knight’s breastplate. The wine splashed across the armor, staining it purple.

  “Do not treat me like an idiot, Mark. You mistook tits for tithes again, didn’t you? Get out of my sight.”

  Sir Mark flushed and, still dripping, turned and exited the room. Sebastian sat back in his chair and snapped his fingers. A servant lurking behind a curtain heard, and he quickly came with another glass.

  “What must be done?” Gregane asked.

  “I have Arthur harassing me from his castle, Kaide from the forest. One I can’t get to, and the other I can’t find. This will not go on. If the peasants think, for even a moment, they can get away with challenging my authority, a full-blown revolt will not be far behind.”

  “Give me a hundred men,” Gregane said. “I will teach them a lesson the whole North will talk about.”

  Sebastian accepted the cup from the servant, and filled it with more wine.

  “To Stonahm,” he said before downing it. “Go put fear into the heart of the North.”

  8

  Jerico had wondered how he’d find his way back to Kaide’s hideout, but his worries were unfounded. Reaching the forest was easy enough, the path simple and often traveled. At the edge of the trees, he set up camp and slept, making sure his fire burned long and with plenty of smoke. When he awoke the next morning, his horse was gone.

  “Huh?” he grunted, realizing the absence. He hadn’t been alerted by Ashhur to any danger, so he assumed it was members of Kaide’s band. His supplies lay beside him, and he prepared his morning meal while the few remaining birds sang in the bare treetops. After awhile, he sensed eyes watching him, and he grinned.

  “You’ve taken my horse,” he called out. “The least you could have done was take me with him.”

  A pause, and then the bandit stepped out from hiding. He was hardly the thief he expected.

  “Ricky?” Jerico asked.

  The boy nodded. He stood erect, as if willing himself to appear taller, more mature.

  “I had to make sure you was you,” he said.

  “Well, I am I,” Jerico said. “Care to lead me back to camp?”

  Ricky gestured, and Jerico slung his pack across a shoulder and followed.

  “No one thought you was coming back,” Ricky said. “But they left me here just in case you did. They’re all killing soldiers, so no one could stay and watch.”

  “Killing soldiers?” Jerico asked, ducking underneath a low branch. They followed no path, just pushed through the brush and leaves deeper and deeper into the woods.

  “Don’t think you can get me to talk,” he said. “I’m smarter than that.”

  “Of course, I certainly don’t mean to offend.” Jerico gave him a moment to cool off, then continued. “Beth’s fine, by the way. I don’t know if anyone told you.”

  “Kaide told me.”

  Ricky shot a glance behind him, and for a moment he looked like the young, indecisive kid he was.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Did it for her, not you, but you’re welcome anyway.”

  The camp was silent as they entered, empty as Ricky had said.

  “Where are they?” Jerico asked. “If they’re fighting, perhaps I can help.”

  Ricky grew flustered.

  “Too far to walk, and you couldn’t even if you wanted to.”

  The door to one of the cabins opened, and it turned out the camp wasn’t completely empty.

  “Our hero returns,” Sandra said, and she laughed at Jerico’s over-exaggerated bow.

  “I could never stay away from you for long,” he said, shooting her a wink. Ricky rolled his eyes, then yawned long and loud. Jerico remembered the boy had stolen his horse during the night, as well as how far the walk had been from there to the forest’s edge.

  “Have you been up all night?” he asked.

  “Kaide says sometimes men have to go days without sleep.”

  “And sometimes men go days without food or water, b
ut it doesn’t help them none. Go to sleep, Ricky. I didn’t come all this way just to run off again. Besides, Sandra’s here. She’ll stab me if I try anything.”

  Ricky relented, casting one last watchful eye on the two of them before vanishing into his cabin.

  “I’m not sure I feel safe around you alone,” Sandra said.

  Jerico opened the door to his own little hut and tossed his supplies inside.

  “Don’t worry too much. With this limp, I doubt I could catch a crone.”

  “Catch me? I wouldn’t run, paladin. I’d knock you flat and crush your testicles for the attempt. And you don’t want to imagine what Kaide would do afterward.”

  “Would he make me tonight’s supper?”

  Sandra laughed, but the laugh died when he limped toward the stable.

  “Your leg,” she said. “Does it hurt much?”

  Jerico shrugged.

  “It’s bearable,” he said. “I’ll pray over it soon, like I should have this morning. Much of the pain is just weakened muscle, and lingering effects of a curse.”

  At the stables, he found his horse tied and fed, and the saddle properly removed. Patting the horse’s side, he took a breath and steadied himself. His knee throbbed, the rough travel through the forest feeling like it’d removed every bit of progress he’d made the past few days. He put on a tough show, though, and tried to minimize the limp as he walked back to the center of the hideout. He made it halfway there before he leaned against a home and groaned, tilting his head back with his eyes closed.

  “Let me see the leg,” Sandra said, her playful tone gone. Sighing, Jerico rolled up his pant leg, and even he winced at the sight. A purple bruise covered the entire knee. The bones were healed, though the surface of his kneecap was oddly shaped, as if it hadn’t smoothed out upon rejoining. The surrounding skin was swollen red, and when she pressed her fingers against it, he let out a gasp.

  “Damn fool,” Sandra said. “You walked all the way through the forest on that?”

  “It felt better at the time.”

  “Get to your bed, or beside the fire if you’d like. I need to start it soon, anyway. When Kaide and his men return, they’ll be eager for a feast to celebrate their victory.”