David Dalglish - The Shadows of Grace

The snow fell, and other than a soft gust of wind, the night remained silent.

“You have heard me,” Velixar said, turning toward the paladin, who had fallen to his knees, clutching his arms to his chest and rubbing them for warmth. “What is your answer?”

“I have none,” Jerico said. “For my heart wishes for lightning and fire from the heavens. I would give anything to see you burn.”

“You don’t know,” Velixar said, shaking his head. “You have no answer for me, yet you still cling to him in faith. Why? I don’t understand.”

“Because your words are empty,” Jerico said. He closed his eyes, summoning the memories of a hundred people in prayer he had knelt beside. “No matter the death you spread, I have seen souls give of themselves for an eternity of joy. I have seen grace strike down the evilest of men and turn them into something pure. Burn this world to ash. We’re here for only a little while. This is not our home.”

Velixar laughed.

“You say that?” he asked, grabbing Jerico by the neck and lifting him so they could stare eye to eye. “Such confidence. Such lying. You think what I do will have no effect on your faith, my actions no bearing on your meager justifications of your religion? You are in for a fall, paladin. Your faith is glass, and I am the hammer. When you break, I will be there. When you finally surrender, when you are ready to accept a faith that has meaning in this wretched world, I will be waiting.”

“I hope you’re prepared for a very long wait,” said Jerico.

Velixar’s grip tightened around his neck. Spots swirled before his eyes as his heart pounded in his chest.

“I have lived for centuries,” Velixar said. “To see a paladin such as you broken would be one of my greatest triumphs. I will wait as long as it takes.”

Tighter and tighter. Jerico felt his legs go limp. His body hung lifeless from that single strong hand. Darkness overtook him. Just before it did, just as his vision was a swirling chaos of red and yellow, he heard Velixar’s mocking laughter. It continued on and on into the foggy state his mind succumbed to, laughing. Laughing and condemning.

When he awoke, he was beside a healthy fire. Tessanna sat nearby, her legs crossed and her dagger slowly tracing runes into her skin. He grunted as pain sprang to life in a hundred places throughout his body. Every breath seemed to cause him terrible pain.

“You’re awake,” Tessanna said, her voice quiet but happy. No doubt the carving of runes was a large reason for that.

“Seems like it,” Jerico said, putting a hand over his eyes and praying to Ashhur for strength. The words felt hollow, but he forced through them anyway. At last he pulled his hand away to see Tessanna standing over him, a curious look on her face.

“What did he speak to you of?” she asked.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Jerico sighed.

“The usual. I’m dirt. He’s a god. Karak’s the only truth. I’ve heard it all before.” He chuckled. “Must admit, he’s found damn good ways to retell it.”

Tessanna handed him a small piece of the demons’ meat rations. He accepted it, thanked her, and then took a bite. The girl watched him eat, her arm out and dripping blood onto the fire.

“He wants you brought to him when we start the siege,” she said. “I don’t know why. I think he’s to make you watch. Many will die today.”

“Innocent life,” Jerico said as he winced through a swallow of the dry, salty meat. “You know that as well as I.”

“Does it matter?” Tessanna asked. “Beauty is fading from this world. I want away, to escape from all this. Let them die and go to Ashhur, if his eternity is so bright and pure.”

“You don’t believe that,” Jerico insisted.

Tessanna smiled sadly.

“What I believe doesn’t matter. Qurrah is all that matters. And my child. My daughter. I’ve decided a name for her, Teralyn. A pretty name, don’t you think?”

“It is beautiful,” Jerico said. “Though I weep for the world you will birth her into.”

Tessanna’s shy happiness faded at that. With cold eyes, she yanked him to his feet and shoved him westward.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Velixar is waiting.”

She led the way, glancing back occasionally to make sure he followed. The camp was surprisingly vacant. Jerico rubbed his arms and wished for something warmer for his feet than his broken boots. The army’s tents remained pitched, little banners at their tip waving gently in the soft breeze. The great city was much easier to see with the snowfall ended. War demons flew about, forming their own cloud above the city. The undead had already marched as well, forming a dead black line beyond the walls. Scattered among them were the tested, shouting songs to Karak in their fervent joy.

Standing alone, watching the coming battle from atop a hill overlooking the city, was Velixar.

“Where is Qurrah?” asked Tessanna as they approached.

“He has joined the priests in sundering the walls below,” Velixar said, his gaze lingering on the city. He glanced over at the paladin. “He carries my most important orders. Jerico has proven stubborn, but today, I believe he will finally see reason.”

“Good luck with that,” Jerico said, hopping up and down to increase his circulation. He thought of asking for a fire, but given who stood with him, he decided the risk too great they would set him afire instead of a nearby pile of wood. Tessanna stood beside Velixar and pointed to where the priests gathered.

“Is that where Qurrah is?” she asked. Velixar nodded.

“They will frighten the city, then break its walls so my undead may enter.” He pointed to a distant hill, long and sloped and covered with snow, “There is where Krieger hides with his paladin brethren. When the undead have softened the defenses, they will storm through.”

“What of the demons?”

“Ulamn wants to keep his casualties light. They’ll harass the archers and assault the castle directly while the bulk of the forces are at the walls.”

“Destroying this city only makes you that greater a murderer,” Jerico said, kicking aside snow to form a bare spot of earth to sit upon. When finished, he plopped down and curled tight to save his warmth.

“It furthers our conquest,” Karak’s prophet said. “And do not presume to know my games. You are an ignorant pawn, nothing more.”

“I thought I was to be your prized conquest,” Jerico said.

Velixar paused a moment, then grinned. Jerico thought he saw maggots crawling between his teeth, but just as quickly they were gone.

“Should that happen, you will be revered among the dark paladins, perhaps even lead them after Krieger. Until then, you are a worm.”

Jerico clenched his teeth to stop their chattering.

“I think I’ll die a worm,” he said, his voice hissing through his clenched teeth.

Tessanna sat next to him, not bothering to clear away the snow. It seemed her pale skin was impervious to the cold. She brushed his exposed skin with her fingertips. Her touch was ice.

“Let’s watch the show together,” she said, smiling. She tilted her head forward, letting her hair cascade down across her face. “If you want me, that is.”

Her touch turned to fire, seeping into his skin and chasing away the cold. His shivering stopped. His teeth stilled.

“Stay,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Pleased, Tessanna curled her knees to her chin and rested her head. The three watched as the distant people, like ants, swarmed about the streets. Even at their distance they could hear the soft ringing of alarms.

“Summon the lion,” Velixar rumbled.

The priests raised their arms to the sky. The clouds swelled with thunder and a red shape burst through them, that of a feline skull with teeth dripping blood. The drops fell from the sky and onto the city, dissipating like smoke as they struck the rooftops. Its mouth opened, and when it roared, the very walls of the city shook. Amid the noise, Velixar laughed.