David Dalglish - A Sliver of Redemption

“Then who’s this White guy?” asked Harruq. “Where’d all these troops come from?”

“That,” said Tarlak, “is something I’m assuming we’ll find out very soon.”

Aurelia slipped her hand into Harruq’s.

“I guess this is one of those times where you’ll tell me to behave?” the half-orc asked.

Aurelia kissed his cheek.

“You’re learning.”

They passed through the gates to fanfare and cheers. Many troops lined the walls, but despite their numbers, there was no hiding the city’s decimated state. No merchants filled the rows of broken stalls. No men wandered the streets to their smithies and bakeries. The walls guarded a ghost town, and that silence seemed to fight against the cheers of the defending soldiers.

An honor guard approached from the castle, banners held high, all of them of the axe with a bloody handle. Only one rode on horseback; the others were on foot with their shields polished and their hands on their swords. Antonil stepped forward, and at their approach he bowed low, then waited for their host to speak first.

“Welcome,” said the mounted man. He wore armor but no helmet. His face was long, his eyes green and his hair brown. A long but well-trimmed beard grew to the bottom of his neck. “My name is Theo White, and I am king of Omn.”

“Greetings,” Antonil said. “I am King Antonil, lord of Mordan and Neldar.”

“Then like me, you are king of nothing,” Theo said, a bitter smirk crossing his face. “Come, let us return to the castle. Our provisions are few but should fill your bellies. But first, I must be introduced to your rather odd companions.”

At first Harruq thought he meant him until Ahaesarus stepped forward. He chuckled, relieved to realize there were far stranger looking people than him now travelling with them.

“My name is Ahaesarus,” the angel said as he bowed. “I offer you the blessings of Ashhur, and thank you for your hospitality.”

“Keep your blessings,” Theo said. “But I’ll take your swords and spears. Come, to my castle. You have questions, I’m sure, and I’ll do my best to answer.”

He tugged on the reins. The honor guard pivoted, and back to the castle they travelled.

“Delightful fellow, isn’t he?” Harruq muttered.

For once, Aurelia didn’t jab him in the side.

Q urrah watched the procession enter the city, and with every cheer they made, his spirits sank further.

“Damn fools,” he said to himself, for he was alone atop a small hill that looked down upon the fortifications. He sat huddled with his arms crossed over his chest, his chin resting on his forearms. He’d told no one he would stay behind, and no one had even noticed his departure, not even Harruq. Was he still so invisible to them?

“It’s hard returning here, isn’t it?” asked a voice behind him. Qurrah startled, then felt his cheeks flush.

“What would you know about that?” he asked.

Jerico sat beside him, his armor clinking. He put his mace on the ground to his right, away from Qurrah. In silence the two looked upon the town, each lost in their memories.

“They won’t recognize you,” Jerico said.

“That’s because I killed them all,” Qurrah said. He shook his head. “I once entered through those walls a conqueror. I won’t do so now as if I am their savior.”

“You were just one of many,” Jerico said. His red hair blew in the soft wind. “You only opened the gates.”

Qurrah laughed, the sound mirthless and tired.

“That is all I’ve done,” he said. “I brought Tessanna into our lives. I cursed Aullienna. I retrieved the tome to open the portal for the demons. In everything I do, I open the door for death and torment. At least I killed Delysia myself. At least I can feel that guilt warm on my hands, just like her blood…”

He fell silent.

“Guilt is heavy,” Jerico said. “You can pretend it’s not there, but once you feel its weight, there’s no easy escape.”

“Why are you here?” Qurrah asked him.

The left side of Jerico’s face curled into a smile, bitter and sad.

“This hill,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “This is where Velixar nearly broke my faith. This is where I watched hundreds of innocents die. And this is where I slept with Tessanna.”

“I promised to kill you for that,” Qurrah said, feeling his whip tighten around his arm.

“You did,” Jerico said, chuckling.

They both watched the city, watched the banners of the White family flutter in the breeze.

“Why?” Qurrah asked.

“Because I’m human. Because she…”

“No,” the half-orc interrupted. “Not you. Her.”

Jerico scratched at his chin, obviously uncomfortable.

“She felt you judged her,” he said. “She felt with you she had to be strong. You were always taking from her, relying on her. If she broke, if she fell to sadness or despair…would you have been there for her?”

“Of course I would,” Qurrah said, his voice a whisper.

“But did she know that?”

Qurrah had no answer.

“She wanted to break me,” Jerico said when it was obvious the silence would stretch indefinitely. “She wanted to prove I couldn’t be as forgiving as I claimed. She was right.”

“Do you hate me?” Qurrah asked after shaking his head.

Jerico glanced over.

“Yes. At times.”

“You watched me aid in the deaths of hundreds.”

Jerico nodded. “I did.”

“Yet I’m still alive.”

Now the paladin had no answer.

“No one is as good as they claim,” Qurrah said, standing. “But you’ve never claimed to be perfect, Jerico, only that you desire to be. Your failure does not deny that perfection. The fact that you haven’t killed me is proof enough. But I think I know what it is Tessanna desired from you. What she’d never have gotten from me, for I’d never felt it myself.”

“And what is that?” Jerico asked.

“Forgiveness. For Aullienna. It haunts her. Now Velixar’s got her, he’s twisting her, trying to break her like he tried to break you. Should I ever see her again, what will be left of her? A shattered thing? Will I even know her?”

Jerico clapped Qurrah on the shoulder.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m hungry, and this hill makes for poor sleeping. Our friends await.”

“I have no friends,” Qurrah said.

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Your family, then.”

He offered his hand, and Qurrah took it.

“All right, but if anyone tries to kill me, you better protect me.”

Jerico winked.

“We’ll see.”

They returned to the city.

T he feast was meager, but Harruq was still thankful. It seemed like it’d been ages since he’d eaten in a chair at a table. They gathered in the great hall of the castle, with six long tables, three of them empty. Antonil and Theo sat opposite each other, with a few knights and angels between them and the Eschaton. Harruq absently chewed on some bread far too stale for his liking and watched the two kings talk.

“What are we missing out on?” he asked.

“Since when did politics interest you?” Tarlak countered.

“It might affect his food,” Aurelia said. “That keeps him interested.”

“I’m serious,” Harruq said, clearly insulted. “We’ve marched in here expecting to fight, and instead find troops of some king that I sure don’t know.”

“You’ve barely been outside of Veldaren,” Aurelia said. “Of course you don’t know anyone.”

“I recognize the name,” Tarlak said. “That Pensely guy said that a baron named Gregor White was expected to become king, but then he died with no clear heir between his two sons.”

“Sounds like Theo was the stronger of the sons,” Aurelia said. She pushed away her plate, having no appetite for the light meal. “I wonder where the other son is. Dead, perhaps? Hanging from a branch by a rope? Maybe just jailed in a tower somewhere.”