David Dalglish - The Shadows of Grace

“Ashhur loves you,” she said to him.

Velixar killed her as well, this time not with a blade but a spell. She collapsed, her heart bursting. The dark paladins could not carry her away fast enough. A boy with red hair and a shadow of whiskers on his upper lip approached. He’d seen Velixar’s rage, had seen his disapproval. He looked to the paladin and said the only words he could say, the only blow he could strike against his conquerors.

“Ashhur loves you,” he said just before he died.

As did the fourth. And the fifth. The line had seen his torture. They had heard his words. Suddenly it was they offering themselves to him, speaking the words he’d been forced to say, removing the condemnation he’d been forced to give.

After the seventh, Velixar snarled. He’d had enough. Far in the back, several had taken up worship songs of Ashhur, singing them loud with tears running down their faces.

“Kill them all,” he said to his minions.

The undead tore them to pieces. Jerico sobbed amid their shrieks.

“Do you yet understand?” Velixar asked.

“Even in darkness,” the paladin whispered amid his cries. “Even in darkness…”

Velixar didn’t understand, but he knew he’d brought Jerico to the very edge, then somehow lost him.

“Burn the rest of the city,” he said, turning away from the carnage. “All but the bodies. Bring them to me. I have need of them.”

“Ignore that order,” Ulamn said as he landed with a heavy gust of wind. “We will need the supplies within, as well as maps. Besides, my men would appreciate a roof over our heads while we ponder our next move.”

Velixar waited a moment, the silence thickening as he stared at the powerful war demon.

“So be it,” Velixar said. “Leave them where they lie. I will summon the dead myself. Stay the fires.”

Jerico sat up as several more demons landed, their weapons dripping blood. Tessanna put her hand on his and glared at the rest, as if reminding them that the paladin was hers and hers alone.

“Your orc approaches,” one of the demons said, his deep voice full of contempt.

“Then leave me alone to greet him,” she replied. Ever since Velixar’s display, she had grown somber and quiet, and when she spoke her voice quivered. “You have your orders. Go pillage and rape and do whatever it is you do.”

Velixar was long gone by then, walking toward the conquered city with a trail of undead behind him. They were alone, the demons and Tessanna. The thickness of the air refused to thin. Jerico squeezed Tessanna’s hand and then stood. The demons bristled, and one laughed.

“Does the paladin seek death?” the war demon asked.

Tessanna’s eyes flared wide, but Jerico shot her a look. Her face darkened, and she lowered her face so her long black hair fell across her eyes. Her tongue stayed still.

“You seem so eager to kill me,” Jerico said. “So much for war. You’re cowards, vultures. Where is my armor? Where is my mace? Would you butcher a child and then shout your victory to your kin?”

The demon pointed his bloody sword toward him, the tip hovering an inch before his neck.

“A paladin of the coward god is always a treasured kill,” the demon said. “You seem to have lost your allure as a pet. The girl no longer cuts you at night. Or does she do other things? Has she found better way for you to entertain her?”

Jerico let a smirk curl his lips.

“A treasured kill,” he said, ignoring the latter comments. “So apt to describe yourself as well.”

He stood to his full height. He stretched out his arms. Even though the sword tip hovered before him, he showed no fear in his bloodshot eyes. His face was wet with tears, yet still Jerico smiled.

“Strike at me, you’ll die,” he said. “You have your orders. Be gone from us.”

The demon looked from Jerico to Tessanna, and he saw the swirling frost that surrounded her fingertips.

“The girl has stripped you of your pride,” the demon said. “You are just a dog. One of these days, it will be the master that kicks you dead, not us.”

They took flight toward the ruins of Kinamn. Jerico let his arms fall, and he closed his eyes to hide his weakness. He had almost hoped for death. After that day, he felt ready for it. Footsteps approached, he heard them clearly, and it took little guess to whom they belonged.

“What nonsense was that?” he heard Qurrah ask.

Jerico felt the leathery whip lash out and wrap around his neck. So far the fire remained dormant, and he kept his eyes closed and his body still.

“The demons grow bolder,” Tessanna said.

“Come,” Qurrah said. “We must set up camp within the castle. I will not be left out of their plans. They will not diminish my role so easily.”

“You’re just a damn doorway to them,” Tessanna said. “They’ll ride you like a horse until your legs break and your sides burst. They’ll expect me to dance on your corpse, but they’re fools, all of them. Fools.”

The bitterness in Tessanna’s voice startled Jerico’s eyes open. The whip slid free from around his neck, for Qurrah was just as surprised and confused.

“We must go,” Qurrah said, clearly unhappy Jerico was there to witness their conversation.

“No,” Tessanna said. “I will camp here. Jerico too. Stay here with me or go to the castle. Where is it you belong, my lover?”

Qurrah’s lip curled into a sneer.

“Sleep well on the grass,” he said. Furious, he started to say more, then stopped and stormed back toward the city. Jerico watched him go, a numbness coming over him. He sat on his knees and wiped the tears from his face. He looked to the great pile of carcasses left Velixar, their bodies so mangled and torn they were useless as undead. He felt oddly detached now, as if the trauma had shaken something loose in his head. One day it would hit, overwhelm him, but for now he felt so terribly numb.

Tessanna sat next to him and took his hand again. His wariness returned, for he knew what she wanted of him, but for the moment she only held him tight. If she were drowning and he were offering her safety she might not have gripped any harder.

“I don’t hate you anymore,” she said. “Do you care?”

He said nothing, so she continued.

“I tried so hard. I still want to hate you. I thought nobody could be so perfect. You held on against my touch, my pain, my knife. It seemed nothing could break you, but something finally has. Do you know what broke you, Jerico?”

“What?” he asked, his throat dry and his skin cold.

“Your love broke you,” she said. “For the ones that died before you. People you didn’t know. People you couldn’t help. People doomed to die. You loved them anyway. I don’t know about Ashhur, I don’t know if he loved them before Velixar’s sword fell, but I know you did. You loved, and loved, until it was ready to break you, until you were on your knees sobbing, your mind a shell drained dry. I know that feeling, gods I know, I know it… I know it…”

She leaned closer to him, her forehead resting against his neck. The first of many sobs broke loose from her lips. For a long while she cried, her tears wetting his neck. She never tried to speak. Gently he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close. At last her tears slowed, and she sucked in weak gasps of air.

“I’m so tired,” she cried. “It hurts so bad, but I try to keep together, to be whole for him. I must be strong. I can never be weak, not with him. He’ll break without me. But you’ve never cared. You broke loving them, and then were made whole when they loved you in return. I’ll never be made whole. I’ll never be good enough. Mother will crush me, the gods will forsake me, and Qurrah will forever blame me.”