David Dalglish - The Shadows of Grace

“Defend yourself, paladin,” one of the tested said. “State your faith so we may kill you with dignity.”

Jerico stood, his head sagging and his arms limp. He smirked at the fanatical men and women around him.

“Will you not say anything?” another asked. “Or have you lost your faith?”

Jerico tilted his head to one side, grunting as his neck popped. Then he lashed out, grabbing his first accuser’s head with both hands. Before the others could react, he smashed his knee into the man’s face, shattering his nose and splattering them both with blood. He used the body as a barrier, shoving him aside as he lunged for the nearby carriage. He had a hunch about Tessanna, and seeing his shield on the carriage floor confirmed it. He hooked his arm through the tethers and spun about.

The tested screamed as their bone hands smacked against his shield, and screamed even louder as brilliant white light erupted from the metal, blinding their eyes. Those that touched the shield watched in horror as their hands exploded like chalk. The throng of tested shouted in a chorus of anger and vengeance.

Jerico laughed at them, then tossed his shield to the dirt. He had given them his answer. He still had his faith, and he was not afraid.

“Kill him!” shouted the tested whose nose Jerico had broken. They swarmed him, lashing out with their hands. He felt the bones smack against his exposed skin and held in vomit at their touch. He had a sudden idea that now he knew what Karak’s minions felt when they touched his shield, and he laughed. His laughter infuriated the tested all the more. Jerico collapsed to his side as they kicked and beat him. Both his eyes were already swelling, and his cracked lips spat blood.

“What are you doing?” Tessanna shouted, her voice carrying the power of thunder. A bolt of red lightning tore through the tested, scattering them. Tessanna followed, glaring with her deep black eyes. Magic danced about her fingers, daring any of them to say a word. The tested swore at her and the paladin, but none moved.

“Traitor!” one woman shouted. Tessanna struck her dead with an arrow of acid that dissolved her face into goo. The rest held their tongues. Tessanna knelt next to Jerico, who was busy coughing and retching.

“They hurt you,” she said, stroking his face. “They can’t do that. Only I can hurt you.”

She turned and stood, scanning the crowd for the one she knew was among them.

“Who can speak for your idiocy?” she asked. “Which among you can justify your stupidity?”

“Idiocy? Stupidity?” Preston said, wringing his hands as he emerged from among the throng. “The death of a paladin of Ashhur is never such. It is just. It is wise. It is needed.”

Tessanna shook her head. If Velixar was right, Karak was letting Preston roam free to test his priests’ faith. Tessanna, however, could not care less. She hurled a bolt of lightning at him. Preston crossed his arms and braced his legs. Thunder sounded in the valley. The lightning parted, its strength gone. The high priest shook his head.

“You will suffer for such audacity,” he said.

“She will not,” Velixar said, pushing his way through the tested, Qurrah following after. “And you are a fool if you think you have the ability to harm a single hair on her head.”

“You protect her?” Preston asked, incredulous. “After what she has done?”

Velixar frowned. He could see more priests filtering their way through the crowd. For once he was being tested, and not the other way around. Karak’s prophet was far from happy. If he protected Tessanna, even after she murdered several of the tested, Preston would have ample fuel for his rants against him. So be it, he thought. The girl was far more important.

“Jerico is hers to torture,” he said. “He is hers to kill. You had no right to send the tested after him.”

“They did only what they felt was needed,” Preston said. “And to have a paladin survive while surrounded by so many of us faithful is a blasphemy!”

“Blasphemy?” Velixar roared. “You challenge the voice of Karak, then speak of blasphemy? We march to victory, to our god’s very freedom, and you think Karak finds such horrible insult in a broken man shivering in the cold as he pulls a cart like a beaten donkey?”

Qurrah felt his whip writhing around his arm. It wanted blood, and it seemed to share his disgust with Preston. If it ever came to that, the half-orc decided, he would make sure the whip got the killing blow.

“You play dangerous games,” Preston said. He glanced about, making sure enough of his priests were nearby. “And you suffer our enemies to live. You appoint yourself leader without peer, without proof. Perhaps Karak’s voice is not so loud in your ear as it once was.”

“You damn yourself with such words,” Velixar said, his deep voice rumbling with anger. “But how many will damn themselves with you?”

Preston did not answer. He left, calling for his priests to follow. The tested went with him, resuming their songs. Their wild voices chilled even Velixar, for the worship was not to Karak like it should have been. They sang in near insanity, enjoying the power and certainty of their fanaticism. It pained him greatly to think that Karak was not with them.

“He needs to be dealt with soon,” Qurrah said when they were gone.

“You’re right,” Velixar said, pointedly glaring at Jerico. “He does.”

J erico slowly curled onto his side, ignoring the flares of pain in his shoulders. He lay on dying grass, without a blanket for warmth. They were a week out from Veldaren, and after the fourth day, when it became clear he did not have the strength to pull her carriage, she gave him his shirt and granted him permission to sleep beside their fire. His back had been to them, but he was curious about the sounds he heard. Rolling about, he peered through the flames. Tessanna knelt, one hand shakily supporting her body, the other holding back her hair.

“Breathe,” Qurrah told her, who knelt beside her with a hand on her shoulder. “Deep breaths. The nausea will pass.”

Tessanna heaved, but only tiny bits of spittle and acid came out. Jerico frowned, remembering a comment she’d made to Qurrah as they left Veldaren. She was a pregnant woman. He had been so focused on the carriage and remaining silent, he’d let the comment pass right over him, but now he truly pondered its greater meaning. The girl with blackest eyes was with child, most likely the half-orc’s.

How dangerous a spawn, he wondered. But Keziel said daughters of balance never bore children…

He focused, for they were talking again.

“I don’t think it wise to keep him much longer,” Qurrah said when her heaves were gone. Tessanna stared at the earth, her lips quivering and her breathing raspy and uneven.

“What other mode of transport do you suggest?” she asked.

“You have your horse.”

“Too jarring. You know that.”

Qurrah stood, pulling her to her feet with him. “Then have a tested pull your carriage, I don’t care.”

“I don’t like them,” she said. “They’re like dogs with rabies. They’ll bite us soon.”

The half-orc fell silent. So far neither knew Jerico watched, and for that he was glad. Surely one of them would gouge his eyes out if they realized.

“Forgive me, Tess, but you two worry me,” Qurrah said at last. He seemed almost ashamed to admit it. To this the girl crossed her arms and suddenly turned shy and quiet. Jerico had to strain to hear her words over the crackling of the fire.

“He confuses me,” she said. “And he excites me. But he also makes me angry, very angry, Qurrah. I want him to fuck me, and then I want to kill him. He is something that this world no longer needs, and I want to prove it.”