David Dalglish: The Old Ways

The shirt fell through her to the floor, her body a whirling creature of shadow and smoke.

“Why?” she shrieked. Her fists pounded against the floor until her hands began to pass through, striking nothing. It made no sense! How could she perform her god’s will when saddled with such difficulty? How could he expect her to stroll naked through open streets in a hunt for his fallen paladin?

“Please,” she prayed. Her body might not create tears, but she was sobbing anyway, her grief overwhelming her. “Please, help me, Karak. Show me the way.”

She heard no answer, which perhaps she deserved. Trying to overcome her grief, she looked at her naked body and began to think. Her body was not real, only an illusion. She could make parts of it solid, particularly through concentration. Was her skin not also an illusion? As she stared at herself, she tried to see what she truly was, not what she remembered. Before her eyes, she became darkness. The sight terrified her, but in it, she found hope. Perhaps there was more to it than that. Closing her eyes again, she imagined her old leather armor, covered with dull plain clothes, and a long gray cloak wrapped about her shoulders. She’d worn such an outfit so often it was natural to her. She could still imagine the way it felt, and how her cloak would billow in the wind.

When she opened her eyes, she was no longer naked.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She moved her arms, watched the sleeves fade along with her skin. Her body was just an illusion, a projection of how she imagined herself. Which meant…

She closed her eyes again. Thinking of her former partner, Claire, she tried to imagine Claire’s blonde hair falling down to her shoulders over her more slender form. And then she opened her eyes, saw the hair, saw the subtle shift of her hands. The true power of Karak’s gift came to her then, and she might have wept for joy. Yes, she would have to endure pain, but all gifts came with a price. She could be anyone, limited only by her imagination.

Valessa retrieved her daggers. Only they would remain in her grasp when she moved at full speed, somehow blessed by Karak during the process of her…revival. One last thought came to her, one she had to finally test. Turning to a wall, and without any time to think, and therefore frighten herself off her course of action, she ran straight at it. No slowing. At the last moment, she closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was outside, daggers still in hand.

She laughed.

“Where is he?” she asked, looking to the stars. “Where is the traitor?”

When she lay down to sleep, she relived her moment of death, thrusting her neck upon his blade. But when she focused on his name, his face, she could always look to the sky, day or night, and see a red star burning, showing her the way. Sure enough, she saw it, and forgetting her hunger, her pain, her sorrow, she left the corpses inside the farmhouse and headed southwest.

Toward Darius.

As the two paladins walked into Stonahm, Jerico did not wonder about linking back up with Kaide, or worry that the villagers might hand Darius over for coin. All he cared about was finally getting himself a decent meal.

“You sure they won’t try for the bounty?” Darius asked as they passed the nearby homes. “I’m not too eager to repeat what happened at Wilhelm.”

“Neither am I,” said Jerico as he glanced about. “But this is Kaide’s home, his family.” The last time Jerico had been in Stonahm was not long after Sebastian’s army had come and pillaged it. Much of the damage had been repaired over the past two weeks, and as faces peered at them from windows and doorways, he saw no anger, only fear. “I’ve helped them, fought for them. To go against me, and turn over an enemy of Sebastian, wouldn’t even cross their minds.”

He stopped in the center of the village, with not so much as a word spoken to them in greeting. Everyone seemed eager to either avoid them or pretend they were not there.

“I think,” Jerico muttered as a group of men came around a corner and approached. He recognized their leader, the elderly Kalgan, the closest person the village had to a healer.

“I see you survived,” Kalgan said, hardly sounding pleased by that fact. Jerico tried not to feel angry with him. Jerico’s protection of a woman from one of Sebastian’s knights had caused the lord to send his army down to punish them in the first place. As much as he tried to convince himself he was in the right, it did little to sway his guilt, and he well understood Kalgan’s ire.

“We’ve come for shelter,” Jerico said. “We’ve traveled far, and are hungry.”

Kalgan eyed him and Darius, and the other men with him shuffled nervously.

“Follow me,” he said. “We need to get you out of sight.”

Jerico glanced at Darius, who only shrugged. They followed the elderly man back to his empty hut. Opening the door, he gestured for them to enter. Once inside, Kalgan waved away the others, then joined them, shutting the door after them.

“You have a lot of nerve to return here,” Kalgan said, his voice more tired than angry.

Jerico sat on the bed, glad to be off his feet, while Darius remained standing in the corner, clearly on edge.

“I never fled the battle, if that is what you’re thinking,” Jerico said. “I was there to the end, but Sebastian had too many. It was Kaide who called for the retreat, not me.”

“It’s not that. I’ve heard what you did. You are a two-faced blessing, Jerico, sometimes bringing joy, sometimes sorrow. Sebastian has sent knights to all corners of the North looking for, as they put it, ‘the man with the god shield’. His reward is substantial, though I wouldn’t worry about any of the villagers here turning you over. Should you travel beyond Kaide’s influence, however…”

The old man looked to Darius, and his frown deepened.

“And you. You look like the man Sir Robert is searching for, the one who supposedly burned Durham to the ground. Are you Darius of the Stronghold?”

When Darius nodded, Kalgan rubbed his eyes and swore.

“Two wanted men appearing in our town. Ashhur help us. Sebastian already fears us rebelling. To have both of you out in the open…damn it, do neither of you have any sense?”

“I thought you said no one here would turn us in,” Darius said.

“I meant Jerico, not you,” Kalgan said. “And it doesn’t matter. One errant word, one man with more greed than sense, and Sebastian’s knights will ride in again, and this time they may not stop at just rape and fire. You two must leave now, before you cause any more trouble.”

Jerico leaned against the wall and sighed. So much for a night of relaxing and enjoying a bit of corn meal, warm soup, and maybe a roll of bread…

“Where is Kaide?” he asked. “That is why we’re here. We separated after the battle, with Sebastian’s army between us.”

“He’s back in the forest,” Kalgan said. “Not sure how long he’ll be there. He’s trying to recruit more men. The gods help him, he thinks he can break Sebastian’s siege of Arthur’s castle.”

Jerico frowned, though he wasn’t surprised by the news. With Arthur’s defeat, he’d have little choice but to flee. A lengthy siege would be expensive and draining for Sebastian’s men, but he had the patience and manpower to do it. Victory would only be a matter of time.

“We’ll leave for his camp, then,” Jerico said, slowly rising to a standing position. It felt like every muscle in his body ached from the constant walking, and his stomach growled, as if realizing its good meal had been delayed. Kalgan opened the door, glanced about to make sure no one waited for them, and then gestured for them to leave.