David Dalglish: Clash of Faiths

“No one is here,” Velixar said the moment they were within earshot.

“As it seems,” said Mallak. “But this is where the armies were to meet, didn’t Sir Gregane say?”

Valessa watched Velixar’s ever-changing face harden into a visage of smoldering anger.

“He plays a dangerous game if he thinks to interfere with Karak’s doings.”

“Might they be delayed somehow?” Valessa asked. Already she knew the answer, but it amused her to see the prophet flustered so. In the daylight, he was far from the intimidating specter he was at night. His skin seemed paler, his bones visible through his stretched skin. Even the fire in his eyes was but a dull red glow.

“Be silent,” he said, closing his eyes and lifting his hands. “I will find them.”

They waited as the prophet cast his spell. Valessa used the time to steal a glance at Darius. She noticed the mark on his hand was gone and felt her stomach tighten at that. Such a sure sign of Karak’s forgiveness was hard to dispute, crushing her hopes for a chance to take his life. It was because of him Claire had died, a direct result of his lapse in faith. Karak might welcome the return of the faithful, but Valessa was not her deity. She wanted blood. Darius himself looked tired, still drained and lifeless as he had been when she first saw him at Velixar’s side.

Champion of Karak, she thought. Such a joke.

“The fool,” Velixar said, suddenly opening his eyes. “They are in the Gulch, many miles away.”

“We’ll not make it in time,” Valessa said. “We’ll have to trust Sebastian’s men to achieve victory.”

Velixar looked at her as if she were a child.

“The shadows are my doorways,” he said. “We will arrive, though not as fast as if at night. Come with me, all of you.”

Velixar hurried them toward the closest copse of trees near the edge of the valley. On their way, they saw smoke rise to the west, first thin, then shockingly heavy.

“Have they set the entire gulch aflame?” Valessa wondered, but none had an answer for her.

At the trees, Velixar circled about, stepping into their shade.

“Weak,” he said. “But enough.”

Casting a spell, he tore a swirling portal into existence, then beckoned for them to enter. Darius went first, followed by Mallak. Valessa smiled at Velixar, then blew him a kiss before stepping through. Her stomach immediately twisted, and she nearly vomited upon stepping out. She felt herself having crossed a great distance, but it was something she could not fully understand, and her whole body revolted against the sensation. They were amid a heavy cluster of trees packed so dense they provided shade from the sun despite their lack of leaves.

“How many times?” Valessa asked, all her mocking humor gone because of the unsettling method of travel.

“Many,” Velixar said, his voice cold. “The sun will make this travel difficult, but I will do what I can. Arthur must lose, and Jerico must be slain by Darius. If I am denied this…”

He closed his eyes and began casting again. Taking in a breath, Valessa noticed how focused the prophet seemed, how weak he appeared in the daylight. She felt her dagger in her hand, and looked to Darius, whose lifeless eyes stared into a world far from their own.

“Lead on,” she said, smiling at the two of them as another portal tore into existence.

*

J erico marched beside Kaide and Bellok as they kept ahead of the wildfire. Behind them burned the bodies of both friend and foe, for they could not spare the energy to carry them, nor the time to bury them, so in fire they went to their gods.

“They come without horses,” Jerico said, nodding toward the approach of Sir Gregane’s vanguard.

“Then I am of no more use,” Bellok said.

“You have proven yourself to have a thousand uses,” Kaide said, smacking his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t discount yourself yet.”

“Startling horses is a simple cantrip, Kaide. We have no more firestones, and I have gone too long without rest. I doubt I could slay a rabbit if it sat still long enough for me to cast.”

All around them marched the rest of the bandits, few of whom Jerico knew. They’d lost a third when the horses came crashing in, and would have lost far more if it hadn’t been for Bellok letting out whistle after strange whistle, confusing the mounts and sending them crashing into each other. Jerico’s mace was caked with blood, and he knew the killing was far from over.

“What do we do?” he asked Kaide as they marched. “We cannot hold lines against them. The two of us may kill twenty, thirty before going down, but the rest?”

“I know,” Kaide said, keeping his voice low. “I’d hoped the fire would spread much faster, but it seems the very weather turns against us. But what choice do we have?”

Jerico eyed the forest, knowing potential safety hid within.

“We run,” he said. “Your men lack armor, and our chasers are burdened. If we reach Arthur’s men, we stand a chance.”

“Sounds like the pally wants to be a coward,” said Adam, who had lurked behind them without saying anything to alert them to his presence.

“Who says we should be running?” asked Griff beside him. He grinned despite the wicked cut across his face, which had slashed off a portion of his nose.

“We run to a better location,” Jerico said. Though his whole body ached, he smiled. “And then we fight.”

“There,” Kaide said, pointing to a far portion of the forest. “We’ll make it, so long as Gregane doesn’t throw any soldiers our way to cut us off.”

“He does, we’ll crash right on through,” Jerico said. “And with my shield leading the way. Give the order, Kaide.”

The bandit leader looked to his men, and he mustered one last bit of energy and bravado.

“We run!” he shouted. “Ignore those bastards, and leave their clanking asses in our dust! We go to meet with Arthur. With us at his side, we can hold off soldiers from dawn to dusk, and spill their blood a thousand times more than our own!”

They cheered. Jerico led the way, conditioned to run in his armor for long periods of time. At first the vanguard tensed, thinking them charging, but then they saw the angle was wrong. He heard them cry out, and then the chase was on.

“Run!” Jerico shouted when he could spare the breath. He’d put his shield onto his back, but he pulled it off and stopped, lifting it high so that the stragglers might see its light. “Run, my friends, for the life of all you love, run!”

As its light shone over them, they surged ahead with lifted spirits and refreshed legs. Jerico returned the shield to his back, sparing a glance backward and wishing he hadn’t. The soldiers were less than a hundred yards behind and gaining ground. Kaide’s men had fought to their last breath to survive the initial charge of the knights. Unburdened or not, they were tired, and struggled to keep pace.

Up ahead, the forest seemed so very far away.

“Come,” Jerico said, grabbing one man by the arm and tugging him along. “One foot after another, now move!”

The man staggered, more pulled than running. Jerico caught up to two more, and he saw blood on them. He admired their courage, and was torn on what to do. He grabbed the arm of a second, knowing that the other he did not choose was doomed to death.

“May Ashhur take you,” he said. The man had no anger in his eyes, only fear, and that look haunted Jerico as he rushed along. He saw one man stumble, and he let go of the first and reached down to help the second. Up ahead, Kaide shouted for them to run, but so many were tired and wounded. Jerico could do no more. Begging Ashhur for his understanding, he at last grabbed the arm of another injured man who collapsed, flung him onto his back, and ran. When those around him fell behind, or stumbled, he left them to their fate, to live or die by their own strength. Every time he saw it, though, he felt another stab in his gut.