David Dalglish - The Death of Promises

“As you wish, lover,” he heard her say. She turned toward him. In the starlight he could see very little of her, but then brilliant yellow light arced between her hands. He saw her eyes. He saw her hair. Keziel’s words rang loud in his mind.

…pure black eyes and long hair that is dark as the night.

“Not right,” he said before diving into one of the side rooms. A bolt of lightning shot down the hallway, accompanied by a deafening thunderclap. The paladin scrambled to his feet, doing his best to ignore the sight of a dead priest torn in two. Lathaar’s daughter of balance, the one he had seen in Neldar, had come to the Sanctuary.

“Don’t want to play?” he heard the girl ask down the hallway. “But what if I want to play with you?”

From nowhere she appeared before him, giggling like a little girl. Jerico shouted in surprise. Bonebreaker swung out of instinct. The image broke when the weapon touched it, fluttering away in a thousand butterflies made of shadow. Jerico’s mind raced, trying to think of an advantage he could gain. Against spellcasters, distance was his enemy. In the narrow corridor he could not dodge, only brace for impact and trust his shield. He knew that his greatest chance of victory involved close quarters combat, but the idea horrified him. Another bolt of lightning tore through the hallway, gigantic in size. His fear of her only grew.

“Get it together,” he told himself. “Help me, Ashhur, I’m not sure how to get out of this one.”

He took his shield, positioned it facing the door, and then leapt into the hallway.

Tessanna was waiting for him, still standing beside Qurrah. Black tendrils shot from her fingers, electricity swirling around them. Two wrapped around his ankles. Two more found his waist, and then rest tried to wrap about his shield. The holy light burned them away, but the ones around his body remained. The paladin screamed as dark energy poured into him. His heart pounded faster and faster, so much that he feared it would explode.

The momentum from his leap slammed him against the wall on the other side of the hallway. With all his energy, Jerico lurched forward. Unbalanced, he fell to the floor, his shield leading. The gleaming surface struck the other tendrils that stretched out from Tessanna’s fingers, severing them. The paladin gasped for air as the pain slowly faded. If she was upset by this turn of events, the girl did not show it.

“Come dance with me, Jerico,” she said. “Come play.”

She entered the hallway.

He put one leg underneath him and pushed. He stood, tottering precariously. His arms shot out, pushing against the walls for balance. Labored breaths poured in and out of his mouth as he stared at the girl with blackest eyes.

“You want to dance,” he said, “Then come inside and dance.”

He turned and ran further into the Sanctuary.

“Coward,” Qurrah murmured, taking out his whip.

“No,” Tessanna said. “Only a fool would stand there and let me strike at him.” She waved her hand, and at once the rest of the undead began entering the Sanctuary. “That should keep him defensive. Do you know where the spellbook is? I’d prefer not to have to kill everyone inside.”

Qurrah closed his eyes and let his mind grow attuned to the darker world. He could feel the spellbook nearby, pulsing with a black energy. As to where exactly, he did not know.

“I need to be closer,” he said. “Follow me.”

“I’m leading this dance,” Tessanna said, twirling in front of him. “So you follow me.”

Again he felt his ego bruise, but the girl just laughed at him, laughing as she danced amid the broken bones and dead bodies that littered the hallway.

W hen Jerico neared the fireplace, he remembered Keziel’s request.

“Book, huh?” he said, glancing about the room. He saw nothing, so he assumed it hidden. What the book could be, he didn’t know. Given the power of the two intruders, it most likely was not some mundane object.

The clacking sounds of approaching undead jarred him from his thoughts. The sharp turn into the room was his best strategic point so he sprinted for it, his shield leading. He didn’t even slow when the first undead turned the corner. His shield flared as he crushed three skeletons against the wall, their bones almost melting to its touch. Jerico spun, swinging Bonebreaker in a wide arc. It shattered the spine of the closest undead, then hooked upward to knock off the head of a second.

A swift kick and he was off the wall and back into the room with the fireplace. More undead came, but he smashed them one after another. They wielded no weapons or armor, and against the magic of his mace they could not withstand him. Bodies began to pile at his feet, and he used this to his advantage. He took a step back, and when an undead stumbled over the pile, he lunged forward and smashed it with his shield. The pile grew larger.

“Sing, song, sing a song if you have a song to sing,” he heard Tessanna call as she approached. The paladin shook his head, trying to shake the fear of her from his mind. He had fought casters before, powerful ones even. She was no different.

“But when you sing a song until its done, the song sings no more.”

Tessanna turned the corner.

Bonebreaker smashed the side of her face. Her skull cracked against the wall. The girl slumped against it, blood pouring from her nose and mouth. Her cheek was cut and mangled. Her black eyes stared at him, frozen in surprise, as a trail of blood painted the wall.

“Tessanna!” Qurrah shouted.

A whip snaked around the corner, wrapping around his wrist before bursting into flame. The metal of his gauntlets glowed red, and Jerico screamed as the fire burned his flesh. He twisted his wrist, dropped Bonebreaker, and then madly flailed at the buckles. Just as a strong tug came from the whip he flicked it free. The gauntlet flew around the corner, taken by the whip. Jerico reached for his weapon with his bare hand, but changed his mind when the whip lashed the ground beside it. Unsure, the paladin took a few steps back, his mind racing.

He looked at the girl still slumped against the wall before his pile of undead. He thought she breathed, but the wound on her head was horrendous. Her left eye was covered with blood, even the iris filled with burst veins. He could see her teeth through the tear in her flesh. Her cheekbones were a shattered mess.

“Celestia’s going to be mad at me,” he said before breaking into nervous laughter. The whole while he backed away from her body. He had his shield, and in many ways he could still use it as a weapon, but would it be enough? When Qurrah walked around the corner, and he saw the rage in the half-orc’s eyes, he knew it wouldn’t. Not even close.

“You,” Qurrah said, his entire body quivering with anger. “You dared scar her face.” He lashed his whip against Jerico’s shield. “You’re a greater fool than I imagined.”

“Never claimed to be the smart one,” the paladin said, taking another step back. There was just enough room to get some momentum before reaching the necromancer. Perhaps if he charged…

Qurrah gave him no time. A bolt of pure shadow flew from his hands, crackling with energy. Jerico braced his legs and let his shield take the blow. The power of it jarred his shoulder, and his elbow screamed in pain. Another bolt hit, then another. He had taken so many spells with his shield, and while the holy enchanted metal bore no mark, his own flesh was another matter. His entire left side turned numb as the shadow power slammed against him. He staggered back, collapsing against the wall. Behind him, the heat of a fire warmed his legs, alerting him to its presence.

“You are weak flesh and bone,” Qurrah said, lashing out with his whip. “Do you know why you still stand? Let me show you.”