David Dalglish - The Old Ways

“I don’t know how you do this,” he said, his voice lowering. “How do you expect me to leave them alone, to forgive these unjust accusers, thieves and murderers?”

“What did you once tell me?” Jerico asked, taking Darius’s sword and offering him the hilt. “Our path is a hard one. Nothing’s changed, not with that. Mercy over vengeance. Grace over condemnation.”

Darius drew his sword and held it before his eyes.

“A light in the darkness,” he whispered, seeing its glow.

He sheathed it once more, then held the rest of his things.

“Farewell, Jerico,” he said.

“What? I’m coming with you.”

“I won’t argue this. Sebastian is dangerous to the North, and his allegiance to Karak is only the beginning. You must stop him any way you can.”

“Even if it means helping the men who just tried to kill you?”

Darius chuckled, and he clapped Jerico across the shoulder.

“Never said it’d be easy.”

He turned to leave.

“How will we find each other again?” Jerico asked as Darius ducked his head and marched into the forest.

“I’ll listen for the stories,” Darius called back.

Hunger had grown a constant to her, a sensation now as meaningless as the feel of wind across her skin, or the pain that flared from every inch of her body. Valessa used it to propel her onward. She longed for the comfort of sleep, for a respite from the pain and guilt. But it would not come, so onward she followed the red star. It led her through plains, farmlands, and at last to a forest whose name she did not know. The sun and moon rose and fell, their light and darkness just as meaningless to her as bread or water.

The thick branches and leaves proved problematic at first, for they blocked the light of the star. But she found that when she stopped to focus, to demand its crimson light, it could pierce even the forest canopy.

“Praise be, Karak,” she whispered. “Praise be.”

She ran, at first weaving through the trees on nothing more than instinct. When she realized how pointless that was, she might have laughed, but even laughter caught in her throat. Her body was meant for slaughter and pain, not humor. Not pleasure. Penance.

Her path lost its weave, and she plunged through the trees, feeling the trunks and low branches pass through her. She was smoke, shadow, an incorporeal being. Her speed increased, distant wolves howled, and the red star shone on. Its light was so bright, she knew Darius had to be close. His presence burned in her mind like a beacon. Her hands clutched her daggers, and with near ecstasy, she imagined plunging them into his throat. The sensation of pleasure overwhelmed her. She hadn’t realized something like that had been left to her, but it seemed she was wrong. She could still feel joy. She could still know Karak’s love. All by repenting for her error. All by slaughtering Darius the traitor.

In the distance, she saw a camp, and she slowed her run. It had to be Kaide’s, she realized. Who else would have a miniature village lost in the woods? It certainly explained Sebastian’s difficulty in finding him. Had Darius taken shelter with them?

Up ahead, she saw two figures, a man and a woman. Valessa slowed even more, and she let her presence fade away. Gone were her clothes, her pale flesh, replaced only with darkness. Unseen, she crept up on the couple. The way the red star flared, she’d hoped it was Darius, but it was not. Her disappointment did not last long. She recognized that red hair, that enormous shield strapped to the man’s back.

“Jerico,” she whispered, the word curling off her tongue like a purr. The paladin of Ashhur was equally as responsible for her failure as Darius, all because of his meddling, and that damn shield of his. He spoke with a silver-haired woman, who looked upset but was hiding it well. Valessa glanced to the sky, saw that the red star beckoned further, but she could not deny herself such an opportunity. How might Karak bless her for defeating such a terrible foe? How much joy would soar through her shadowy soul when her daggers tore the life from his veins?

She looked to the nearby camp, then smiled, a plan already forming…

J erico watched until Darius was gone, and then shook his head. Darius was right; Sebastian was trouble. But Darius was young in faith, and it’d been mere weeks since he’d been in the prophet’s thrall. To separate now felt risky, but in the end, he had to hold faith in Ashhur. It was the right thing to do, letting him go. So was this.

He gathered his things, pulled his shield across his back, and waved goodbye to the camp.

Kaide had threatened to send men after Darius if Jerico did not stay. Good luck, he thought. Any fool that went after Darius now deserved the beating they received. But he could not stay. They’d betrayed his trust, and no matter how important Kaide claimed he was, that importance was not enough for them to take Darius under their protection.

Barely beyond the light of the camp’s torches, Jerico heard Sandra call his name. He turned, steeling himself against any guilt.

“Jerico, wait,” she said, hurrying after.

“What is it?” he asked. “Are you here to apologize for your brother again?”

Sandra shook her head, and he realized she carried a small bundle against her stomach.

“You didn’t know, did you?” he asked.

“I’d have stopped him if I did,” she said. She looked back to the camp, and he could see the sadness in her eyes, and the way her lips quivered. “I’ve been at his side for years now. Always the older brother, the one who would save our family. But I don’t know who that man is, not anymore. I once told you I thought he knew nothing but revenge. Tonight proved that.”

Jerico stopped, and he put his hands on her shoulders.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “He’s your family, and they’re your friends. I understand their desperation, as much as I might loathe their actions. Don’t risk whatever happiness you know just for my sake.”

She shook her head.

“Our town is gone. My parents are dead. Whatever happiness I knew, it died that winter. Kaide’s just kept that pain fresh. We gave him his battle, and I saw the dead and the dying. It did nothing, only fed the beast that’s taken over my brother.”

She brushed her hair away from her face and behind her left ear.

“Let me come with you,” she said. “I don’t care where. Just let me follow you until I can find a new home, free of all these memories.”

She stepped closer, and Jerico felt his throat tighten.

“Shouldn’t you say goodbye?” he asked her.

“He’d never take it well.”

Jerico sighed. He knew his path was dangerous, and he had no intention of giving up the fight against Lord Sebastian.

“All right,” he said. “But we need to hurry, and put as much ground between us and here by morning. Because you’re right…there’s not a chance Kaide understands.”

She smiled, and he accepted her embrace. As his arms wrapped about her, he saw a figure walking toward them from the camp. He tensed. Sandra sensed it and turned. The figure grew closer.

“Shit,” said Sandra. “It’s my brother.”

“So much for a romantic flight through the dark forest.”

She punched his chestplate, then pulled free of his arms.

“Let me talk to him,” she said, approaching Kaide. The moonlight fell across his features, and seeing them, he clearly did not look happy.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Don’t be upset,” Sandra said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m allowed to make my own choices. You’re not our father.”

He never slowed. Never stopped. His hand dipped to his belt, then thrust. Jerico felt his heart shatter. Sandra gasped as the dagger pierced her belly. Jerico was too shocked to scream. Time crawled still, and she fell to the ground, blood pouring. Kaide looked at him, and he smiled, but suddenly he was no longer Kaide. He was a creature of shadow, his clothes melding and changing into the face of a woman he thought had long since departed for the Abyss.