David Dalglish - The Death of Promises

The wave of undead slammed into him, rushing forward with mindless energy. The paladin gasped as his braced legs slid along the smooth stone. Gritting his teeth, he pushed with all his strength while crying out the name of his god. The light on his shield flared, and the flesh of the rotting skeletons sizzled and burned. Bones broke, flesh peeled, and the unholy creations shattered one after another as they crashed against his shield.

“Awake, brethren,” Jerico shouted as he took a step forward, pressing against the throng. “Karak has come to call!”

His shield flared with light again, knocking the undead back several feet. In the brief respite, the paladin pulled back his shield and charged, Bonebreaker already swinging. The first to feel its touch exploded, every bone in its body now chalky white powder. He hacked a second and a third, grim satisfaction on his face from each kill. He was halfway to the door, and the flood entering had completely halted. His shield smashed the closest skeleton once, twice, bashing it back so that it collapsed atop the undead behind it. Jerico put his foot on its chest while he kept his shield braced high before him.

“Be gone from here,” he said, holy power in his words. The boot sank inward as the undead shrieked, the dark magic animating it unable to withstand his command. Jerico removed the boot, took a step back, and then peered over his shield at the door. Bonebreaker was ready for another swing, but the wave had retreated, the undead shambling out into the night. Voices called out from behind him. The clerics had woken and come.

“Jerico!” he heard Keziel shout. The paladin glanced back, seeing the old man in nothing but a long white bedrobe. “What is going on?”

Jerico turned to the door and held up his hand to silence them. A man appeared before the entrance, shrouded in dark robes. Deep red eyes flared from within the cowl of his cloak.

“This is most amusing,” the figure said. His voice was a frail hiss that echoed off the walls with unnatural strength. “But I did not come here to play. Give me the book, or more will have to die.”

Jerico heard soft crying behind him as the clerics entered the bedchambers that the undead had broken into. Keziel placed a hand on the paladin’s shoulder.

“You have our blessing,” the priest said. With those very words, Jerico felt every hint of exhaustion flee his body. His shield and mace weighed nothing. He looked at the strange figure at the door and laughed.

“How many undead do you have, necromancer? I think more litter our floor than fill your army.”

“As I said,” the figure hissed, “I am not amused.”

A ball of flame formed around his hands. Jerico pulled Keziel behind as he lifted his shield. The ball flew down the hallway and struck his shield with such force that he was lifted from his feet. His bulk knocked the cleric against the wall, and together they fell dazed to the floor.

“Look out!” Jerico shouted as he struggled to his knees. A second ball of flame roared down the hallway, and this time nothing stood between it and the clerics. Desperate, Jerico freed his shield from underneath his body and then flailed Bonebreaker upward. The very tip of the mace touched the ball of flame, and that was enough. He rolled against Keziel and covered both of them with his shield as the fire ignited. When the bright light vanished, it left behind a great amount of smoke but no dead.

“Is that the best you can do?” Jerico asked as he pushed against the wall to stand. He glanced back at the priests. “Get as deep as you can into the Sanctuary. No arguments.”

“Not the best,” the figure at the door said. “Just a warmup, if you will forgive the pun.”

“Not forgiven,” Jerico shouted.

“In the very back there is a room carved into the stone of the mountain,” Keziel said, latching onto Jerico’s arm and using it to pull himself up. “We can hide within.”

“Go,” he told them. “All of you. Now!”

The paladin faced his attacker. Fire swirled around both his hands, and in the demonic glow his face was visible, a tired gray visage with horrific eyes.

“He doesn’t want us,” Keziel said as the rest of the clerics hurried down the hall. “What he wants is hidden within the fireplace. Do not let him get it.”

“Ashhur be with you,” Jerico said. “Now get your ass out of here.”

Keziel smiled, but it was sad and tired. He turned and ran.

“So honorable,” the stranger said. “If you surrender, I will spare all their lives. Even yours. I just want what I have come to claim.”

“Sorry to tell you this, but I don’t surrender,” Jerico said, readying his shield. “Never have, never will, especially to someone whose name I don’t even know.”

“Qurrah Tun,” the stranger said, fire still surrounding his hands.

“Jerico of the Citadel.”

“A pleasure.”

Two more balls of fire flew down the hallway, roaring with power. When the first hit his shield, he grit his teeth and bore the pain. When the second hit, he gasped for air and felt his entire body slide back a foot. The heat was incredible, and he had to keep his head ducked behind the shield to keep it from being burned.

“If you burn off my hair not even Ashhur will keep me from you,” he muttered. He peered over his shield as he took a step to the door. His foot stepped on a long leg bone, and for an agonizingly long moment Jerico thought he would to lose his balance and fall to his rear. Then the bone caught and halted. Qurrah saw this and laughed.

“You say you’ve defeated half my army,” he said. “Let me show you how shallow your victory was.”

Words of magic echoed down the hallway. The bones of the undead, the ones not made dust by Bonebreaker, snapped erect. They swirled around Jerico in an elongated sphere. The paladin kept turning, kept positioning his shield, but he knew there was little he could do.

“Die well,” Qurrah said.

The bones shot as his body from every direction. Jerico closed his eyes and dropped to his side, his shield hiding his face and neck. The bones smashed against his legs but were unable to penetrate his armor. The first barrage over, Jerico tucked his knees to his chest and shifted his weight. He kept his face down and hidden. A small finger bone slipped past his defenses and struck his cheek. Blood ran down his face. He used the pain to focus. He could banish undead back to their plane with his sheer will. Could he do the same with their bones?

“In the name of Ashhur and through his power, I command you to be gone from my presence,” he shouted, his will unshakable. All around him, the animated bones halted their movements. Qurrah snarled, trying to grasp them with his mind, but it was as if they had grown slippery to his touch. Again Jerico shouted out his command. This time the bones flew away as if a great wind poured out of him. The bones clacked against the wall and ceiling, all power gone from them. The paladin stood, his shield readied before him.

“No dying yet,” he said. He wiped blood from the wound on his face and gestured to it with his mace. “And what was that about shallow?”

“Such a terrible pun,” Qurrah said.

“Just learning from you.”

“Hemorrhage!”

The light on Jerico’s shield flickered for a moment before resuming its steady glow.

“Did you really think your spells could make it past my shield?” the paladin asked. He laughed when Qurrah did not respond. “You haven’t fought many like me, have you? You’re forgiven. It’s what I do after all, forgive people. Beacon of light and all.”

The red eyes narrowed.

“Tessanna,” Qurrah said. “Remove this insect.”

A young woman appeared in front of the door, her shadowy silhouette curling about Qurrah’s body.