David Dalglish: The Old Ways

“A fine welcome for one who fought and bled for you,” Darius said as he brushed past the old man.

“There have been enough of both in this village,” Kalgan said, unimpressed. “Forgive me for hoping we might have peace for a change.”

As they headed for Stonahm’s limits, someone cried out Jerico’s name. He turned, then smiled, as Beth came running up to him. Without slowing, she hugged both her intact arm and her stump about him. That she was not self-conscious about the injury brightened his mood considerably.

“You’re back,” she said, all smiles.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“Beth, don’t you have work to do?” Kalgan said. Beth took a step back and nodded curtly to him.

“I do, but Katie said she saw Jerico, and I wanted…”

“Enough. Go on.”

She nodded again, then turned back to Jerico.

“My father will be so happy you returned,” she said. “Tell him I miss him.”

“I will.”

He kissed her forehead, then continued on toward the forest.

“A fan?” Darius asked, eliciting a chuckle from Jerico.

“A spider bite nearly killed her. I saved her life, but still had to take her arm. She’s Kaide’s daughter.”

“That makes a bit more sense. I’d be interested to meet this Kaide. How does he compare to his rumors?”

“He doesn’t care for honor, has no qualms about killing, and is driven by revenge. But he’s not a cannibal, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Darius smirked.

“Well…I guess there’s that. How far a walk is it?”

“Better part of a day.”

The other paladin sighed.

“We should have asked for food before we left.”

Despite Kalgan’s obvious impatience, Jerico rubbed his eyes and sighed as well.

“Yeah…”

T hey slept at the forest’s edge, eating a few berries they found as well as some roots that Darius was certain were the most bitter thing he’d ever tasted. They built a large fire, Jerico hoping the smoke might alert one of Kaide’s gang of their approach, but come morning, there was no one. Jerico tried assuring Darius it would be no problem, and with their things packed, they trudged into the forest. There appeared to be no path, though a couple of strangely cut branches might have been a marking.

“You do know where you’re going, right?” he asked Jerico.

“More or less.”

Hardly the confidence Darius was hoping for.

“’More or less’?” he asked as they pressed through the rough thicket. “Jerico, what does ‘more or less’ mean?”

“I’ve been this way a couple of times. I’m fairly certain I can find it.”

Darius winced.

“And if you can’t?”

“Kaide’s men will find us,” Jerico said, grinning at him.

“Find our starved corpses, you mean,” Darius muttered.

They walked for an hour, at a fairly slow pace, as Jerico kept checking the surroundings. What his friend was looking for, he didn’t have a clue. At last they stumbled upon a stream, which Jerico insisted was a great sign. They stopped to rest. Darius yanked off his armor and dipped his head into the wonderfully cold water.

“What I’d give for a mule or something to carry my armor instead,” he said.

“Not much of a luxury either of us can afford. I’d sleep in it if it were at all comfortable.”

Darius grinned at him as water dripped down his face and hair.

“That worried about daggers in the night? If you’re asleep, wearing armor matters little when the assassin stabs you through the eye.”

Jerico chuckled, then turned his attention to Darius’s armor. He nodded toward the chestplate.

“You should do something about that,” he said.

Darius followed his gaze and saw the lion painted across the chest.

“Would you have me paint a golden mountain there instead?” he asked.

“Honestly? Yes.”

Darius shifted uncomfortably, and he ducked his head back into the river to stall. As the cold seeped into his pores, he tried to think. In Jerico, he’d seen something he knew he wanted, a hope for a dark world far more sacred and meaningful than the fire and order Karak promised. But he still felt uncomfortable calling himself a servant of Ashhur. Ever since his childhood he’d been a warrior for Karak. It was hard not to consider himself a traitor, no matter how terrible some of Karak’s servants had been, or what Karak had shown in blessing him for the killing of innocents because they worshipped Ashhur, the enemy. And now he was sworn to that enemy. According to his teachings in the Stronghold, he was doomed to an eternity of torment. Was that still true? Or would he escape to the Golden Eternity?

Pulling his head free from the cold water, he gasped in air. While wiping at his eyes, he inspecting his armor. Jerico had a point. He looked so much darker, so much more dangerous than Jerico when they stood side by side. There was little he could do about the color, which was stained into the armor during its crafting. The symbol of the lion, though, he could remove with enough diligence and the scraping of a knife. No matter how hesitant he might be to publicly announce his worship of Ashhur, he was certain he wanted to claim no allegiance to Karak.

“Give me time, and I’ll get it off,” he told Jerico. “Might make it a bit easier to go unnoticed without it, too. Robert’s looking for Darius of the Stronghold, not the Citadel.”

At the mention of the Citadel, Jerico’s mood darkened.

“Forgive me,” Darius said. “I’m sure such a loss will take a long time to heal.”

Jerico nodded, then reached for his shield, flinging it across his back.

“I must go back there sometime,” he said. “I must see for myself its ruin. But Arthur needs my help more urgently than I need some shallow confirmation. Are you ready to go? If we follow the stream, I believe I can find their camp.”

“Just let me get dressed. Daggers in the night and all.”

Darius put back on his armor, and for the first time felt uncomfortable with the lion on his chest. To be sure, he touched his greatsword, and saw the faintest of blue light shimmer across its edges. He still believed, at least some small part of him did. He held on to that, and followed Jerico.

Another hour later, Darius felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. Long used to trusting his combat instincts, he looked about, then spotted a man in a distant tree. In his hands the man held a bow, the arrow already nocked and ready to fly.

“Jerico,” he started to say.

“I see him,” Jerico said. “Let’s pray he’s a friend. Hail!”

He waved, while subtly letting his shield shift to his other arm, in case he needed its protection. The man tensed for a moment, then relaxed as he caught sight of the blue glow.

“Jerico!” cried the distant man, shimmying down the tree. He was a far bigger man than Darius expected, and his was face covered with scars.

“How have the past few weeks treated you, Adam?” Jerico asked, clasping the man’s wrist and pumping it up and down.

“Like shit,” Adam said. “Was hoping to be stomping Sebastian’s ass all the way from here to Mordeina. Instead we’re stuck waiting.”

Jerico nodded to the weapon slung across his shoulder.

“I didn’t know you could use a bow.”

“Gotta hunt to eat, don’t you?”

Darius thought of their meager meals the past few days.

“Not necessarily,” he said. This brought the big man’s attention over to him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

“Darius,” he said, offering a mock bow. “Consider me flattered to finally meet one of Kaide’s most infamous knights.”

Adam paused a moment, as if still thinking over the words, then his face spread into a giant grin.