David Dalglish - A Sliver of Redemption

“So be it,” he said at last. “Train them well. Our nation of Omn may soon depend on the skill of those blades.”

He joined his guard. As they rode out the gate. Harruq watched them go, thinking of what Ahaesarus had said about the king’s fatalistic views. Theo didn’t just expect to die; he wanted to. But not any death. A hero’s death. A noble death. One worthy of legends.

“What do you plan, you crazy noble you?” the half-orc asked the courtyard. Wind blew through the air, but it carried no answers with it, only a chill that sent him back inside to warm himself before a fire until the sun rose and the training began.

W hen he returned, the peaceful calm had been replaced by a gathering of soldiers. At first he thought they were sparring in practice, but then he saw the stranger surrounded at the gate. Harruq muscled his way closer, curious to hear what was going on.

“I must speak with your lord,” the newcomer was saying. “I bring a message from King Henley of Ker!”

“Ker’s sided with Karak,” shouted one chubby soldier Harruq recognized from their training. The guy couldn’t block to save his life.

“What you hoping for, surrender?” asked another. That guy blocked well, but his attacks were painfully obvious.

“My name is Sir Ian Millar, and I bring a message of hope!” the knight shouted, repeating this again and again while Harruq watched. “I must speak with your lord!”

“He’s out hunting,” the half-orc shouted, tiring of the annoying spectacle. “I’m not of Ker, but I can assure you the hospitality has so far been much better than what these asses have shown.”

Several turned on him, furious, but others quieted or even backed away in embarrassment. Harruq put his hands on the hilts of his swords, his glare daring anyone to challenge him.

“He’s your problem then,” said one of the soldiers. “Keep an eye on him, and keep him here in the open until our king returns.”

“I’m already training your troops,” Harruq said. “Might as well carry even more of your weight, eh?”

He grinned, but his hands closed tight on his hilts, ready to draw. The man backed down, though, and the others disbanded into pairs to spar. Only the knight remained, Ian was his name if Harruq remembered correctly, and each gave the other a funny look.

“You look strange for a knight,” Ian said.

“I’ve got orc-blood, not noble-blood. You pick a strange time to arrive in a nation at war.”

“I’ve nearly ridden my horse into its grave to arrive here, and I carry what is surely the first ray of hope to this war-torn country in months, yet my welcome is a band of thugs accusing me of being a spy, or worse.”

The knight huffed and crossed his arms. Harruq chuckled.

“Not much for politics, are you?” he asked.

“Loathe them.”

“Good. We might just get along.”

Harruq caught the knight staring at something over his shoulder, so he turned around to see what. The two paladins were strapping on their armor and stretching. They’d taken to helping Harruq in training the men, Lathaar focusing on offensive drills and Jerico on increasing endurance, the both of them preaching or discussing theology with the men while they sweated and fought. The half-orc chuckled.

“You look like you haven’t seen a paladin before,” he said.

“We were told all paladins of Ashhur had been killed,” Ian explained.

“You were told wrong, but only barely. Those two are the last.”

“And you let them wander freely through your castle?”

This time it was Harruq’s turn to look surprised. “Uh, what?”

Ian paused a moment, then coughed and looked away.

“Forgive me, I just…there are no priests or paladins to Karak here, are there? I am so used to Ker. Their kind is viewed as an unlawful presence.”

Several men from the castle gates raised a call, and others took it up.

“The king approaches! All hail the king!”

“Come on,” Harruq said. “Let’s deliver your message, and then I can introduce you to the paladins. I assure you, they’re a lovely couple, but I can’t wait to hear them browbeat you about your country’s wonderful laws. Oh, and if you think they’re bad, just wait until you meet the angels.”

Ian glanced skyward.

“Angels?” he asked.

Harruq only laughed.

H arruq had expected Theo to dismiss him once they reached his throne, but instead he ordered him to stay, sending away all others. Feeling oddly out of place, the half-orc listened as Sir Ian detailed his master’s plan.

“We seek freedom from Mordeina’s tyranny,” Ian explained. “Their priests will soon rule if we do not stop them. Even now, my king gathers soldiers to fight, but this Melorak possesses a grand army, and is rumored to wield unmatched magical power. Soon he will march against us, but we will make our stand.”

Theo’s eyes seemed to sparkle at that.

“A valiant effort,” he said, leaning forward in his throne. “But why come to me?”

“We will pledge our banner behind King Antonil, rightful ruler of Mordan. In return for helping him retake his throne, he promises our nation complete sovereignty. We will bow to no god, neither Karak nor Ashhur.”

“A fair request, and one I am sure he will accept,” Theo said.

Harruq wondered why Theo didn’t bring Antonil in to listen. Surely this was something he should be present for?

“But not my only request,” said Ian. “We ask for an alliance, good king. We hear rumors of a second army from the east. We cannot fight a war on two sides. If we are to succeed, then Ker must not fall. My king will defend the Bloodbrick Crossing. You must hold them at the Gods’ Bridges.”

Theo stood, and despite his best attempts, he could not hide his enthusiasm.

“Give me a day to prepare,” he said. “I must discuss this with my advisors, and Antonil as well. I have servants waiting on the other side of the door. Go to them, tell them to give you my finest room.”

“You are too kind,” Ian said, and he allowed himself to smile. “If our nations may ally, then perhaps good will emerge from this darkness.”

“But only if we are strong enough to fight for it,” Theo said, dismissing the knight.

Harruq tried to decide whether to follow or not, but the king had not dismissed him, just Ian. Shrugging his shoulders, he waited and wondered.

“What more could we ask for?” Theo asked once they were alone. The king paced, too excited to remain seated. “An army coming from the east, to the only bridge into our lands. We have the place, and now the honor. If we win, or even delay, then Bram can destroy the usurper and retake Mordeina. We defend not just our homeland but the homelands of thousands of others!”

“It does sound like a good plan,” Harruq said, doing his best to be tactful but feeling woefully inadequate. “But maybe you should discuss this with Antonil first? Or the angels?”

“I don’t need to,” Theo said, turning to him. “For I have you.”

“Me?” Harruq’s jaw dropped a little. “What do I have to do with anything?”

“Everything! If you stay, then your elf wife will as well. Then that yellow-robed wizard follows, friends staying with friends, and suddenly I have the heroes my men whisper of around their campfires. Even the paladins will join me. Among the company of heroes, my men will make their stand. Antonil would not dare interfere, nor is he stupid enough to turn down such unexpected aid in reclaiming his throne.”

“Antonil might not be,” Harruq said. “But what if I am?”

Theo paused. His eyes narrowed.

“Surely I did not hear you correctly,” he said.

Harruq grinned. “Afraid so.”

“But why? You have fought far more hopeless battles before. What is this but another part of your growing legend? You defended the people of Neldar, then Mordan, and now Omn calls for your aid. Yet you dare turn me down?”