David Dalglish - Clash of Faiths

“We’ll need to move out soon,” Kaide said after kissing the top of her head. “There’s several places the two lords might choose to meet, and I want us there before either side can discuss matters with the other.”

“You really think they’d make a truce?” Bellok asked.

“No,” Kaide said, his grin ear to ear. “But I want to be there just in case Sebastian sends an envoy. I’ll enjoy sending him back in pieces.”

“Father!” Beth said, and he kissed her forehead once more.

“Pay no attention to what I say,” he whispered. “Now go on to your room and leave us be. You entered this dark world of adults sooner than you ever should have.”

She blushed but did as she was told. Jerico watched her exit, wishing for even the tiniest of smiles to soothe his lingering guilt. He received none.

“Jerico,” Kaide said, pulling his attention away. “You know more of this than I. We need to march, and prepare supplies. Come give us a list, will you?”

Jerico helped much as he could, detailing necessary provisions to bring with them, from the obvious to the obscure. Kaide frowned as he listened, and rebuked several things they could not get in time.

“We’ll make do without,” he said. “How many we have with us ready to go?”

“They been comin’ in from all over,” Adam said. “Burly men, thugs, farmers, rapers. The whole lot’s ready to beat some heads.”

“Wonderful,” Kaide said, his expression anything but. “How many?”

“Three hundred,” Bellok said. “And Adam’s right… they’re the sort even we might normally turn away.”

“Not today. Give them a stick if we have to. We’ll club Sebastian down from his castle walls.”

Jerico excused himself, feeling no longer needed as they continued. He stepped out into the town, where many still lingered about the home, hoping for any word. Their expressions did not match their earlier joy upon seeing Kaide, though. He felt the outsider, a necessary tool, and that was all. He thought of the flock he had taught in Durham, and longed for such a connection. Would any care to hear the word of Ashhur from him, or was the word of Kaide, a word of war, the only thing they desired?

“Will Ashhur be with Arthur’s war?” a farmer called out as he walked for the village outskirts.

“I pray he is,” Jerico said, committing to nothing further than that.

He walked until he reached the pond, and he found the log he’d sat upon when training his leg. It wasn’t so long ago, but it felt like a separate age. Sitting down, he grabbed a few nearby rocks and began skipping them across. Finally alone for the first time in weeks, he closed his eyes and listened for the words of his god. All he heard were the soft sounds of the night birds rustling, the blow of the wind through the grass, and the trickle of the small stream feeding into the pond.

“Jerico?”

The paladin looked back to see Beth standing behind him, holding her stump. She looked ashamed, but she met his eye despite the effort it clearly took.

“Yes, Beth?” he asked.

“Can we talk?”

He shifted, and gestured for her to sit beside him on the log. She did so.

“I…”

She stopped, and Jerico let her take her time. The sun had begun to set, and he watched the colors.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I shouldn’t be mad. I am, but… it was so awful, Jerico. They…”

She’d begun to cry, and he shushed her.

“You have no reason to apologize,” he said. “Not to me.”

“But you just wanted to help,” she said, shaking her head. With her lone hand she wiped at her tears. “I shouldn’t be mad, not when you wanted to help. Her name was Sally, the lady you protected. I thought you should know.”

“What happened to her?” he asked. “When the knights returned, what did she do?”

Beth looked away, and she shivered as if she were cold.

“She ran. ‘Never again,’ she kept screaming. Screamed even before they reached the village. They chased her, and she… she never came back.”

Jerico felt the words knife through his heart. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, feeling a headache building in his forehead.

“All my fault,” he whispered. “Damn it, it’s all my fault.”

“No, you can’t think…”

“Not her, Beth. You. I could have said yes. I could have spared you all of this. I’ll never forgive myself. And I can see it in your eyes, that you know it, too.”

She fell silent, and already Jerico felt his frustration grow. Beth was only on the cusp of womanhood, barely able to handle her own problems, let alone his. He should have kept his mouth shut, and carried such a burden on his own. That was his purpose in the world, after all. She had enough to worry about besides his guilt.

“I don’t mean to be,” she said at last. Her arm wrapped around his waist, and she leaned against his chest. Her tears wet his shirt. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so angry. The whole time it happened, I kept hoping you’d save me like you saved Sally. It’s not fair, blaming you. Please don’t hate me for it, Jerico, please.”

“I could never hate you,” Jerico said. He watched the sun set as he waited for Beth to cry it all out. Every tear hardened his heart against the men who had done such a thing to her. It wasn’t right, but he didn’t care. Hopefully Ashhur would forgive him, because for once, grace and forgiveness were the furthest things from his mind. But most of all, he felt his guilt and sorrow fading away. If she could forgive him for such a mistake, then that would be enough for him to forgive himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything I’ve failed at, for letting you, letting everyone, suffer. I handled it horribly, and could have done something to keep that knight from leaving shamed and furious. I’ll do better. I’ll find a way. Don’t give up on me yet.”

“I won’t,” she said as she pulled back, sniffing and turning away as if embarrassed. “Will you help my dad fight?”

“I will, for as long as I believe it right to do so.”

“I was there that winter,” she said. “What we had to do, it was

… will my father go to the Abyss for it? For… you know… what he ate?”

He could see the question in her eyes, the true words she meant to say.

What we ate.

“Ashhur turns no soul away,” he said. “No matter the past. It’s forgotten. Murderer or priest, pious or thief, all are children in his eyes. I don’t think your father will be condemned forever, not for that. And neither will you.”

Her relief spread across her face, and she hugged him, this time unworried about her stump of an arm.

“Promise you’ll come back to visit?” she asked.

“I promise. And thank you, Beth.”

“Cheer up next time I do see you,” she said, forcing a smile. “You’re much more fun to be around when you’re in a good mood.”

Jerico laughed.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Go on to bed. I need some time alone to pray.”

She left, and once more, he felt the sounds of the night envelop him.

“Heed the voices of children,” Jerico said as the evening star pierced the hazy purple sky. He focused on it, as if it were Ashhur and could hear every word. “I hope this is what you want. No more doubt. No more worries. I go to war, and I ask your blessing upon it.”

He stood and grabbed his shield and mace, which he had put at his feet. The shield shone brilliant in the night, and he smacked the front of it once for reassurance before returning to Stonahm to sleep.

Come morning, he and three hundred others rode west, to where they believed Arthur would be.

*

S ir Gregane stared at the map of the North and frowned.