David Dalglish - The Shadows of Grace

“You have plagued me ever since the Sanctuary,” Qurrah said. Jerico shrugged his shoulders.

“Just doing my job,” he said. “Ashhur would be disappointed if I left vermin like you alone.”

Qurrah laughed. “Hollow, defensive words. You are scared, paladin.”

“By our law he must be executed with the others,” Ulamn said. Again that dark sneer crossed his face. “But how shall he be executed? For that, I offer him to you. You may choose his death, and carry it out as you desire.”

Velixar crossed his arms, his ever-changing face quickening its subtle morphing. How long had it been since he had questioned a paladin of Ashhur? How long since he had been given a chance to twist and corrupt the ideals of a false god into something true and powerful? All around, demons readied their weapons. Desperate, Velixar searched for a way to keep the paladin in his care. Every plan invited rebellion by the demons. The beginnings of a spell burned on his fingertips.

“Wait,” Tessanna said, approaching Jerico with a strange look in her eye. “I know this man, and he is not yours to take prisoner.”

“What nonsense do you speak, girl?” Ulamn asked.

Tessanna knelt down and tilted Jerico’s face so all could see the long scar that ran from his head, past his ear, and down to his chin.

“I have marked him,” she said. “He was mine to kill, many days before you and your kind stepped foot upon Dezrel.”

“A simple scar, yet you claim ownership?” Ulamn asked. In answer, Tessanna pulled back her hair and revealed a similar scar, although much more faint.

“Payment for payment,” she said. “He is mine. I will kill him as I see fit, when I see fit. Isn’t that right, Jerico?”

She leaned in close, as if they were about share a kiss.

“What game are you playing?” he whispered to her.

“You aren’t saved,” she whispered back before kissing his lips. “You’ll still die, but you’ll die for me, just me…”

She stood, feeling hot jealousy rolling off Qurrah.

Good, she thought.

“Will you honor her claim?” Velixar asked.

“So be it,” Ulamn said. He drew his sword, turned, and beheaded the nearest prisoner. The other eight died just as swiftly. Blood spilled across the ground, pooling together. Ulamn hurled Jerico into it, glaring as it splashed across the paladin’s face, hair, and armor.

“Be covered in the blood of your better,” he said. “May you reek of it forever.”

The demons headed to their camps, leaving the three alone with Jerico.

“Come,” Tessanna said, waving a finger. Jerico’s bound body hovered above the ground and followed the girl into the castle. Qurrah stayed behind with Velixar.

“You scowl with jealousy,” Velixar said.

“He should be killed, not coddled,” Qurrah said, crossing his arms and looking away. “Every breath he draws is one too many.”

Velixar shook his head. “She carries your child, Qurrah. She has given you so much, and now you seethe and glare. You have no trust, no love. She is a seed, and you are the soil, and before my eyes you turn dry and hard. Do not be a fool.”

He turned and walked inside, leaving Qurrah alone beneath the stars.

O f all his armor, of all his maneuvers, the best defense Jerico knew was prayer, and so pray he did as Tessanna eyed him, her dagger drawn.

“Guide me, Lord,” he prayed. “May I trust the dawn to come, no matter how dark the night.”

“Trust all you want,” Tessanna said. They occupied what had once been the king’s bedchambers, secluded and alone. “The dawn will not come. Not for you.”

“What do you hope for?” he asked. “What can you possibly obtain? Torture me, beat me, break my bones. Ashhur will take me home, no matter how bruised or bloodied I arrive.”

“Oh, he will take you,” Tessanna said. “But will you wish to go to him?”

She clenched the dagger between her teeth and circled him. With surprising deftness she unbuckled the straps to his armor. The heavy pieces of plate mail thudded to the carpet. She shoved his head, and the sudden movement forward made him scream. The demons had removed the spear piercing his side, but they had offered no healing, not even a bandage. The bonds around his arms and hands did well to hold him still, but the open wound bled freely.

“I smell the blood on you,” she whispered into his ear. Her fingers slipped underneath his arm, pressing against the wound. Jerico held in another scream. He felt her breath on his neck as she whispered words of magic. Light sparked from her fingertips, and to his amazement, the wound closed. He thought to thank her, but that thought died as she leaned closer, her cheek brushing against his.

“When were you last with a woman?” she asked, brushing her dagger across his throat. She giggled when he refused to answer. “What, no response? No clever comment?”

She stood and waved her hand. Magical forces shoved his back against the wall. She straddled him, her hands clawing the stone. Again she brushed her face against his, scar to scar.

“A strong man,” she breathed into his ear. “So strong. It’s been a w hile for you, hasn’t it? Would you take me, if you could? What would your god say about that?”

“You’re vile,” Jerico said. “May Ashhur one day forgive you.”

“You won’t counter me with love,” she said. “It’s love I want from you.”

“What you want is far from love,” Jerico said. He tried to match her gaze, but to his shame could not. Her eyes were so lustful, so yearning. He had prepared himself for pain and torture, but this…

Jerico shook his head. No, she only offered a different type of torture, one of temptation and mockery.

“I am not some pet of yours,” Jerico said. “Now bury that dagger in my throat or leave me be.”

Tessanna laughed. Her hands trickled down his chest, tickling the sides of his abdomen before sliding into his pants.

“Stop it,” Jerico said, his jaw trembling.

“You say Ashhur will take you,” she said, her lustful gaze turning dark and hateful. “Will he always forgive you? Even if you betray, even if you soil his name and dirty your spirit?”

“Ashhur is my light, I will not fear what I cannot see,” Jerico said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He felt his gut churning, hating the way his body responded to her touch. Her hands shifted lower.

“Ashhur is my light,” he prayed. “Ashhur is my light, I will not fear.”

“Light,” Tessanna said, her other hand tracing tip of her dagger along his neck. “Light fails, paladin. It leaves you cold and alone, telling you to be happy even though you feel nothing but hate and sadness and despair. That light? You pray to that light?”

She grabbed his scrotum and pulled, snarling as her lips curled. Jerico screamed at the tremendous pain. Her hand twisted, and he screamed more. His breaths came in shallow gasps. Her touch was ice, her grip like stone. Her face scarred with torment and pain, she jerked again, her other hand clutching his face and forcing him to look her in the eye.

“You should have been there,” she said. “Been there when he raped me, all the while with a prayer to Ashhur on his lips. I’ve seen the falseness of your kind. I’ve seen your light. It fucked me, Jerico, and whatever it takes I’ll fuck you too.”

The door opened. Tessanna let him go and stood as Qurrah entered. Shyness stole away her hatred and anger. She put her back to Jerico, her hands clasped behind her as if she were caught by a parent doing something bad.

“Hello, lover,” she said. “Come to help me play with my pet?”

“Perhaps some other time,” Qurrah said, his eyes glancing about. He saw Jerico’s pain, but the paladin doubted he could guess the reason.