David Dalglish - The Shadows of Grace

Ahead of him, approaching with frightening speed, were lines of soldiers, both dead and alive. The first sliver of light darted above the horizon, and within it he saw the multitude of undead, and flying above them, the armored demons. They were distant dots, but soon, too soon, they would arrive.

The half-orc stopped. He had gone far enough. He spun his swords and buried them in the ground before him. His chest quivering, his hands tingling and his head light, he knelt down on one knee and bowed his head.

“I’ve never prayed to you before,” Harruq said as he closed his eyes. “And I sure this isn’t the last time, either. Here I am. Take me.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he knew what happened wasn’t it. Nothing happened. He felt no sweeping change. He saw no sudden burst of light, or heard the sound of singing. Instead, he felt like a fool. What would the guards upon the walls think of him, kneeling in seeming reverence toward the approaching army?

He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Since when did he care what others thought, anyway?

“This is right,” he prayed, and he knew it, even if he didn’t know how. “Please, Ashhur, he is my brother. Help me do what’s right.”

He kept his head bowed and his eyes closed. Until his death, or his prayer’s answer, that was how he would remain.

A urelia awoke to a sudden jab in her side. She snapped open her eyes and lifted one hand, ice sparkling on her fingertips.

“Where is your husband?” Haern asked, standing over her with his arms crossed.

“He should be…” She stopped and looked around. “I don’t know. Where is he?”

“If I knew, would I ask you?” Haern said.

Aurelia closed her eyes and tried to focus on her husband. She could only catch glimpses of him, for something blurred her sight. Amid white and gold flares she saw him kneeling. All around the land was smooth grass. She opened her eyes and shook her head.

“Get us atop the walls,” she told the assassin.

Haern took her hand, and together they ran. When they neared a set of stairs leading up the wall they slowed. Lathaar and Jerico were already there, talking in hushed tones.

“Have you seen Harruq?” Aurelia asked the paladins.

Lathaar glanced at Jerico, who shrugged.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t,” he told her. “Why?”

Before she could answer, trumpets sounded from along the wall, a jarring interruption of the quiet morning. In a growing rumble the city awoke. Soldiers prepared their shields, and all around them the gap between the walls turned chaotic.

“The army’s near,” Jerico shouted. “We need your husband to help protect the outer gate. Where is he?”

Haern did not answer them, instead bolting up the stone steps, weaving around the scrambling soldiers. When he reached the top he scanned the distance, then turned and waved.

“He’s here!” Haern shouted, pointing east.

“What is he thinking?” Aurelia asked as she hurried up the stairs after Haern. The paladins followed. The top of the wall was crowded with soldiers, all holding bows and crossbows. Stacks and stacks of arrows and bolts lay behind them. Several higher ranking soldiers patrolled about, shouting orders and encouragement. In the distance, the lines of red and black grew closer. They could see a vague, squirming mass at the front, and in the air, a sea of armor and wings. The sun continued to rise, and in its light they saw a lone shape in between the city and its would-be conquerors.

“He’ll be killed,” Lathaar said. “What could he possibly be out there for?”

“I don’t know,” Aurelia said as she summoned her magic. “But I plan to find out.”

She leaped off the wall. Jerico cried out and reached for her out of instinct, but was too late. The elf spun her fingers and whispered words of magic. Her fall slowed to a drift. Her feet never touched the ground. Instead she hovered a foot above the grass, and then she cast a second spell, summoning a windstorm behind her to push her along. Her arms back and her auburn hair flailing, she sped for Harruq.

“Hang it all,” Haern said. “I won’t leave him to die, either.”

He leaped off the wall, his cloaks trailing. He landed on both hands and knees, seeming completely unharmed by the lengthy fall. Sabers drawn, he chased after Aurelia.

Lathaar and Jerico glanced at one another, both debating the same thing.

“He’s praying,” Jerico said.

“I saw that,” Lathaar said.

The two rushed down the stairs and then toward the outer gate. Tarlak was there, along with Antonil and Mira. He was debating something with the mounted king, but shut his mouth when he saw the urgency on the paladins’ faces.

“What’s going on?” he asked as they came running.

“Harruq’s out there,” Lathaar said as they ran on by.

“He’s what? ” Tarlak shouted.

“Open the gate!” Jerico yelled to the guards. “Let us pass!”

Antonil leaped off his horse and handed the reins to Lathaar.

“I will find another,” Antonil said. “Get him back in here before he gets himself killed!”

Lathaar mounted the horse with ease, grabbing the reigns and riding up to Jerico, who strapped his shield tight to his back and then hopped on.

“Wait!” he shouted as the gates of the city cracked open. “A weapon, someone give me a weapon!”

A nearby guard offered his mace.

“Many thanks,” Jerico said as he clutched it with both hands.

The gigantic gate crept open further, enough for them to ride through. It shut behind them with a loud clang of wood and metal.

“We need to get up top,” Tarlak said. “I want to know what the bloody Abyss is going on.”

“My mirror’s out there,” Mira said, clutching her elbows and shuddering. “I don’t want to fight her. Will we have to fight her?”

“Perhaps,” Tarlak said. “But I’ll be here to help you. Handsome guy like me, I’m bound to be useful, don’t you think?”

Mira smiled at him.

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps? Bah! The correct response is ‘of course’!”

They ascended the stairs as Antonil rallied the few soldiers he had, all of them mounted and eager for a chance at payback for the fall of their beloved city.

T he queen sat isolated on her throne by her own orders. She had banished her soldiers and advisors, ordering them to either go to the walls or be with their families. The days had flown past since the Neldaren people had arrived, yet still she felt the weight of every single hour. She was too old for this, she thought to herself. Far too old.

One of the side doors creaked, and out of instinct she straightened up and banished the worry from her face. She couldn’t stop the shaking of her hands, so she clasped them tight and buried them in the folds of her dress.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Hayden said as he approached, bowing low. “Not during such troubled times.”

“It was by my order,” Queen Annabelle said.

“And I hope you pardon me for ignoring it,” Hayden said. He smiled at her, but she refused to smile back.

“I know it looks hopeless,” he continued, not at all bothered. “But our walls are strong, and we have withstood wars before. But this war, well, this could be the one to end all wars.”

“We will win,” the queen said. “Our city has never fallen, and will not fall now.”

“You should worry about the survival of your people,” Hayden said, his voice losing a bit of its kind tone. “Not a stack of stone and mortar.”

“What are you saying?” Annabelle asked, her hands ceasing their trembling.

“Have you seen the army that approaches?” Hayden asked. “They are not soldiers, they are servants of a god!”

He slipped closer, and his words grew quieter, eager, and certain.