David Dalglish - The Shadows of Grace

“You protect our child’s life then,” he said. “Leave me to die if you must.”

“So romantic,” she said. “Lead on, lover.”

They hurried past the undead, further and further south, to where the rest of the army camped. From behind the rotting body of a gigantic Veldaren soldier, they peered out at the first wave of guards. The tested patrolled the entire camp, holding torches in their bone hands. Their tents were placed in an outer ring, protecting the inner camps. Krieger’s paladins slept further inside, and at the very heart of it all were the priests. Qurrah scratched his chin, pondering the best method to enter.

“This won’t be easy,” he said. “Kill as few as possible. We don’t need the survivors rallying behind another in a desperate bid for vengeance against us and Velixar.”

“No fun,” Tessanna muttered, turning back to the few wandering tested. A wave of her hand and they slumped to the ground, fast asleep. “No challenge either,” she added.

“They’re just fodder,” Qurrah said, grabbing her hand. “What did you expect?”

They slipped through the outer ring of the camp, silent as a shadow. Tessanna had to cast her sleep spell only twice, both on tested that neared them during their slow patrol. Together they slipped inside a tent where three more slept. A wave of Qurrah’s hand and shadows crawled over their lips. Another spell and gray mist rose up from the dirt, latching around the three like a spider’s web. This startled them awake, but they could not move and could not make a sound. From inside the tent the two peered out, watching a lone dark paladin walk by.

“You know, Krieger’s always hated us,” Tessanna said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Qurrah said. “No killing them.”

“Fine.”

She yanked a chunk of dirt from the ground, blew across it, and then winked at Qurrah. The dirt shimmered red, and then it flew, propelled by some unseen force. It smacked the dark paladin square in the mouth, hard enough to snap his head back. Tessanna rushed out of the tent, her knife drawn. She jammed it into the neck of the paladin, who was busy struggling to pull the dirt out of his mouth. His body slackened immediately. She licked the blade, her eyes flaring wild at the taste of blood.

Qurrah glared but did not reprimand her. They hurried, knowing it would not be long before someone noticed the dead guard. That hurrying cost them, however, for Qurrah tripped, stumbling and rolling beside the priests’ tents. He froze, waiting for someone to awake, and that was when he realized just how quiet the camp was. No snoring. No stirring in the night. He got to his knees and yanked open the flap of the nearby tent. Empty.

“What’s going on?” Tessanna asked. She crossed her arms and looked about, suddenly shy and nervous. “Where are they, Qurrah?”

The half-orc closed the flap and stood. “I don’t know,” he said. “But something’s not right. We need to find out what, and fast.”

He took her hand, and together the two ran toward the center of the camp. As they approached, they saw rows of torches, the light growing incredibly bright. Priests and dark paladins held them, forming a giant arc encircling a clearing. In spite of all their numbers, they were remarkably silent. Qurrah could hear Preston talking to them, his voice rising and falling in inflection and urgency. He couldn’t make out his words, not yet, but in his gut he knew what was going on. There was only one possibility.

“They’ve captured Velixar,” Qurrah said. “Or plan on doing so soon. We need to get closer.”

“Hold my hands,” Tessanna said. “I’ll get us there, like a good girl. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He took her hands and nodded. Tessanna closed her eyes and whispered the words of magic to her spell. The shadows cast by the torchlight suddenly shrank in on themselves, crawling around their legs and waist as if they were alive. Qurrah felt his skin tingling. He clutched Tessanna’s hands as his entire vision went dark.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Trust me,” Tessanna said. “And shush, or you’ll let the bad men know we’re here.”

He waited, completely in the dark. Tessanna resumed her magical incantations. The darkness in front of his eyes faded to gray, then white, and then finally a reddish gold. Her words ended, and then he felt his stomach lurch as his entire world shifted at an angle. He saw Preston, and heard his words as if he were a foot away. It looked as if he were staring up from the dirt, and as Preston moved he fought away a wave of nausea, for his entire perspective shifted and reformed with each step the priest took. At last Qurrah figured out where he was watching from. He was inside Preston’s shadow.

Qurrah strained, and he felt his perspective shift. All around were paladins and priests of Karak. Their faces were somber, their eyes dark and tired. Tied to a stake before them was Velixar. His arms were behind his back, his hands wrapped with two different ropes. His feet were bound. He wasn’t gagged, but still he remained silent. Only his eyes moved, watching Preston pace.

“Karak has always warned about pride,” Preston said. “He has always warned that no matter who we are, how great we think we might be, we can always fall. We can always succumb to lies, to fear, and to chaos. That is what has happened, my brothers! That truth you now look upon.”

Velixar opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Preston ignored him.

“Since the dawn of our time Velixar has done Karak’s will,” the priest said. “He was given tremendous power, and a life that will be akin to ours when we die. But judge a tree by its fruit, says our lord! What has Velixar done? What has this supposed hand of Karak ever done?”

“Chaos!” shouted one of the priests.

“That’s right!” Preston said, pointing at the priest. “He has sown war at every turn. He has stirred up the creatures of the wedge and let them murder and ravage. And now, when victory was within our grasp, he harbored a paladin of the enemy, and still gives free reign to a daughter of the whore.”

“Blasphemy!” cried the crowd.

Qurrah looked about, searching for Krieger. He found him standing with several other paladins, all of them with their arms crossed and their weapons at their sides. They watched intently, and while they didn’t appear too thrilled with the events transpiring, they were clearly doing nothing to stop them.

“Velixar has become nothing but an agent of chaos,” Preston continued. “He serves only himself, for in his pride he believes that he decides Karak’s will, instead of listening for it, praying for it, and revealing such wisdom to others. I ask you now, do you want to see his face? The true face of this fallen prophet?”

The crowd fell silent. Qurrah felt he should intervene, but was not sure how. There were so many. Unable to act, he watched Velixar’s trial.

Preston pulled out his pendant and held it before Velixar’s face. It shimmered red. Velixar winced. The movement of his features halted. His skin peeled away, vanishing like mist. Illusion after illusion stripped bare and banished. Only bone remained. A skull with eyes. Velixar again tried to speak, but no sound came forth.

“How do they hold him prisoner?” Qurrah asked. He didn’t see Tessanna nearby, and did not know if she could hear him.

“Quiet,” was all Tessanna said. Their words came out of Preston’s shadow, but they were lost in the sudden din as the servants of Karak looked upon a living skeleton burning with power and anger.

“Is this who we should follow?” Preston asked. “This… this corpse?”

Several shouted no.

“Is this who we should sacrifice our faith, our laws, and our rule to follow?” he asked.