David Dalglish - The Death of Promises

“Harruq, Aurelia, you search the southern quarter,” Tarlak ordered. “Del and I will scan the west. Haern gets the east. So far no one’s been taken from the north, so we’ll leave it be until they do.”

“You going to be alright without me?” Delysia asked Harruq.

“Sure thing,” the half-orc said with a wink. “Aurry will keep me safe.”

“If you find any priests of Karak, use your best judgment,” Tarlak said. “If they are too many, seek us out. Even if it is just one, treat him like a wild dragon.”

“Yes, daddy,” Aurelia said before taking Harruq’s hand and pulling him away. Haern bowed, tied his hair behind his head, and then leapt to the rooftops.

“Come on,” Tarlak said, casting invisibility spells over he and his sister. “Let’s see if we can finally catch these murdering crows.”

D espite the danger, the priests wore their black robes openly in the dark streets. Their success had emboldened them. No man or woman who noticed them would dare point an accusatory finger come the dawn. Leading the group of five was Pelarak, the revered priest of Karak.

“Tonight will be special,” Pelarak said, fingering the pendant shaped like a lion skull that hung from his neck. His voice was deep and firm, a powerful presence in the streets of Veldaren. “The fear we have caused is a pittance compared to our task tonight. Before the rise of the sun, the armies of Karak will conquer all.”

“What about the Eschaton?” the priest on his left asked.

“They have a part to play in this,” Pelarak answered. From his belt he drew a dagger. “Come. Our time is short.”

They followed him north, heading straight for the fountain at the center of Veldaren.

O ne good sleep,” Harruq mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his giant fists. “That’s all I want. Why is it when bad things start happening, we always have to scour the city at night?”

“Such a baby,” Aurelia said, jabbing him in the ribs with an elbow. “You’re a step away from dead every time you plop down in our bed. What happened to this fabled orcish stamina we elves always heard about?”

“Bunch of lies,” the half-orc muttered. “We like sleep, we like food, and we don’t like staying up all night staring at empty streets.”

The two were perched atop a building. Aurelia had used a levitation spell to bring them up. Other than a few drunks and stray animals, they hadn’t seen a sign of life.

“People are becoming afraid,” Aurelia said, frowning. “Staying home and avoiding the streets at night. But there is something else going on. Something… Harruq, look up.”

He sighed and glanced to the cloud-covered sky.

“Yup, might rain. Perfect.”

“No, look closer.”

He did, and was stunned he had not seen it before.

“Oh gods,” he said, his jaw dropping. “What does it mean?”

“We need to find Tarlak, now.” Aurelia grabbed his hand and leapt them off the roof, using another levitation spell to slow their fall. Hand in hand they ran as far above them the red skull of a lion blanketed the entire western sky, a ghostly image shimmering across the clouds.

A s Haern leaned over the edge of a building, nothing more than a pair of eyes shining in the night, he heard a strange cry. He could not place it, but it sounded bestial and deep. The stranger part was that he heard it from the sky. He looked up, and there it was, a giant skull with its mouth opened in roar. It was blood red and hovered above the city like an angry god.

“Not good,” he said before breaking into a sprint. Another roar thundered through the city, louder, angrier. Even without his exceptionally trained hearing, Haern could tell where it came from. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, straight for the heart of the city.

W hen they heard the deep roar, they knew something was horribly amiss. Harruq drew his swords, and Aurelia summoned her staff and prepared her spells. They expected to see guards rushing toward the center, but so far the streets remained barren.

“Where are the guards?” Harruq asked as they ran.

“Afraid,” she answered. “We underestimated what is going on. I’m scared, Harruq.”

“We’ve faced worse,” he said.

“No,” she said. “Stop.” She pulled on his arm, and reluctantly he slowed. He could feel his own horror growing at a rapid pace, a strange cancer that he was unaccustomed too. All he could think of was fleeing to the Eschaton tower and cowering away from the lion in the sky.

“It’s magic,” Aurelia said, brushing her hand across his face as she stared into his eyes. “Look at me. Look, and repeat after me. The fear is weak when the threat is false. Say it.”

“The fear is weak when the threat is false.”

Soft light flickered on her fingertips. “Again.”

“The fear is weak when the threat is false.”

Light flashed between them, but it did not hurt his eyes nor make him blink. The cancer in his stomach vanished.

“That should do for now,” she said, kissing his lips. “Delysia can better ward us against fear should we find her. Come on.”

She grabbed his wrist and pulled. The lion roared as if mocking them.

“Sooner we get rid of that thing the better,” Harruq said, glaring at the lion as it glared back down at him. They ran until they could see the large fountain in the center of the city. They stopped again, but not out of fear.

“What the abyss is that?” Harruq asked. The lion in the sky roared, triumphant. The half-orc felt his swords shake in his hands. Aurelia wrapped her free hand around his wrist, needing its touch.

Five priests of Karak surrounded the fountain, whose waters ran red with blood. Pelarak stood at the north side, his hands raised and his eyes to the sky. The other four were on the opposite end, kneeling in prayer or chanting. Three bodies lay like the corners of a large triangle surrounding them. Their chests were wrenched open, their ribcages broken and twisted wide as if something had burst from within. Standing above the bodies were the lions.

They were larger than horses. Their black flesh rippled with muscle. They had no fur, instead covered with a smoldering coat of embers. In unison the three arched their backs and roared, and from their bellies streams of fire soared into the air. The lion in the sky roared back, pleased.

“What are they,” Harruq asked, his eyes wide with terror.

“Lions,” Aurelia said, gripping his hand tighter. “Servants of Karak. He’s twisted them, made them…we need the guards, we need Tarlak. Where is everyone?”

The panic in her voice only worsened Harruq’s fear. He could imagine one bearing down upon him, its claws made of molten rock, its fur burning his very flesh as its obsidian teeth closed around his neck…

“Faithless children!” Pelarak screamed, drawing his attention outward, away from his nightmarish vision. All throughout the city, his voice could be heard. “Behold the Lion that comes in the night seeking to reclaim his Kingdom. You have turned from Karak, willingly forgetting all that once made this city proud. Now you cower, fearing his judgment. Will you surrender? Will you accept the truth you have blinded yourselves to? Or will you give in to death, and in its embrace hide from your ignorance?”

The priest lowered his gaze and stared straight at the couple.

“Your brother was always the wisest, Harruq Tun,” he said. “He approaches with an army at his side. Your master marches with him. Will you join them? Will you repent, and turn to the life you once lived? Or will you doom yourself and your loved ones by fighting against him?”

Harruq looked to his wife, and in her eyes he saw the floating corpse of his daughter. The half-orc met the priest’s gaze, and he felt his fear shatter underneath his anger.