David Dalglish - Clash of Faiths

“Ashhur be praised,” he said, grinning. “I thought you were going to take my head off.”

“I almost did.”

Together they looked through the fire, to where Velixar waited. They could see the barest hint of the group, so deep into the forest they had gone during their fight.

“We have to run,” Jerico said, nodding the other way. “Sebastian’s army will come back to find us soon.”

“No,” Darius said, glancing at his sword. “No running. Those out there know your name. They’ll hunt you forever, and me as well. Let us end this now.”

Jerico touched the back of his head, and he winced at the pain. Darius felt guilty for it, but he laughed anyway and smacked Jerico across the shoulder. For whatever reason, even at the prospect of facing down Velixar, he felt almost giddy. He had always expected one of two fates to befall him, either torturing in the Abyss, or being tortured. Somehow he had found a third fate, and it was at Jerico’s side.

“If you say we must, then we must,” Jerico said, readying his shield and mace. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Darius said, unable to control his grin. “I have an idea.”

*

V alessa felt disappointed to see Darius emerge from the forest into daylight. She’d hoped the other paladin might kill him, and as a failure he’d go to Karak to beg for mercy, mercy he would not receive. Instead he walked with blood on his armor, and his sword sheathed across his back.

“Karak be praised,” Velixar said. “He is dead?”

Darius said nothing, only walked silently toward the prophet. Something about the look in his eyes worried Valessa, so much that she found herself itching to draw her daggers. He looked healthier, relieved. Of course, she thought. He’d defeated the burden placed upon him. With Jerico dead, his reparations with Karak were complete. Such a damn shame.

“Is he dead?” Velixar asked again, a note of worry in his voice, as if he too noticed the change. Darius kept calm, his face betraying nothing. He moved between the three, past Velixar, but the prophet reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. Mallak tensed, also sensing the strange feeling in the air.

“Darius,” Velixar said. “Draw your sword.”

Darius obeyed, a hint of a smile finally showing on his lips. He drew, and Valessa froze at the shock of what she saw.

Blue light shone across the edges of the blade. So stunned was she, she could only watch as Darius continued the smooth drawing motion into a swing right for Velixar’s neck. The sword cut cloth and struck the prophet’s pale skin. For a moment it seemed it would do nothing, but the blue light flared stronger, and then the blade passed right on through. Velixar’s body burst into dust; his eyes melted into fire. He let out a single cry before he died, a denial against failing, a refusal to accept the death befalling him. Then he was silent.

“Betrayer!” Mallak cried, drawing his sword in time to block Darius’s follow-up swing. Their blades connected, showering sparks. The dark fire wreathing Mallak’s sword was far greater, and with ease he pushed Darius back. “You will burn for eternity for such cowardice!”

Valessa could not believe her luck. The damned prophet was gone, and here was Darius deserving every bit of pain she could deliver. Karak must have smiled upon her. She watched as the two paladins exchanged swings, with Darius clearly the inferior in strength and passably equal in skill. When she saw an opening, his back completely to her, she tensed her legs to lunge. Searing pain flooded her back before she could, and then she found herself flying through the air. Tucking her shoulder, she rolled, then spun so she might dig her heels into the dirt to halt her momentum.

Chasing after her was Jerico with that damned shield of his. Worse, he was apologizing.

“Sorry,” he said, carefully approaching. “Don’t like attacking opponents unaware.”

“Consider me aware,” she said, twirling her daggers in her hands. One opening… just one opening…

He lifted his mace to strike, and she went for it, one blade jamming inward to lock his shield out of place, the other thrusting for the gap in his armor at the armpit. Numbing pain jolted into her hand as her dagger hit the shield, but she forced herself on. Her other dagger sliced into flesh, and then she whirled, avoiding the downward chop of his mace. The paladin let out a cry, and it was music to her ears. Continuing her spin, she stayed close, and her daggers stabbed for a crease just above his shoulder.

“I have no problem stabbing a man in the back,” she said through clenched teeth as Jerico’s body reacted on instinct, arching his upper half toward her. She twisted the dagger, locking his right arm from striking at her with his mace.

“How could you kill Claire?” she asked, still pressed tight against him. “You, a slow, dim-witted fool? She was worlds beyond you.”

“Because I… have… friends.”

Jerico ducked, and Darius’s elbow caught her full in the face. Her training kicked in, and Valessa rolled with it to minimize the damage, leaving one of her two daggers still embedded in Jerico’s shoulder. When she returned to her feet, the next few seconds were a jumbled blur. Her eyes watered from the hit, and the throbbing in her head seemed to make everything a haze. Jerico fell to one side, still bleeding. Instead of pressing the attack on her, Darius spun, flinging his weapon up to block Mallak’s attack, who was far from beaten. Mallak, it seemed, had tried to kill Jerico while he lay helpless. As Valessa lunged to help, Jerico rolled to his knees and lifted his shield. Its light shone upon her, and already weakened, she struggled to push onward. It felt as if her every movement was through ice water. Jerico met her ineffective attack with that damn shield of his. Her whole body pressed against it, but she could only cry out in agony. Never before had she felt such pain.

Valessa hit the ground, her only conscious thought that of the ringing in her ears. As if from someone else’s body, she watched the battle end. Jerico turned his shield back to Mallak, joining the traitor Darius’s side. Mallak, seemingly realizing he had to end the fight quickly now that he was outnumbered, assaulted the wounded Jerico with all his might. The fire of his blade flared, and he struck with awesome fury. Jerico’s shield weathered the blows, though he cried out in pain all the while. But Darius was there, and he took the opening before him. Valessa silently shrieked as the traitor thrust his blade through a crease in Mallak’s armor, and then twisted the handle. Blood gushed from Mallak’s side, and when he coughed, more spilled across his lips and neck. He fell.

“Help me,” Valessa whispered, struggling to stand. It was as if her limbs had suddenly stopped taking orders. “Please, Karak, help me

…”

Jerico fell to one knee, and he screamed when Darius yanked out the dagger she had lodged into his shoulder. Whatever satisfaction she might have felt meant nothing knowing he would survive. So many dead, and all their fault… all their fault.

“Karak,” she breathed. “I am your darkness. I am your shadow. Do not abandon me. Not now.”

The two paladins turned their attention to her, and there was no misunderstanding the look in Darius’s eyes as he approached.

“Don’t,” she heard Jerico say, and she felt fury at any false sympathy he might show. Darius refused to listen.

“I’m sending her to her god,” said the traitor. “I know what she is, what she is capable of. The world is better this way.”

“I will hunt you,” Valessa said to him, even as tears welled in her eyes. “Even to the Abyss.”

The traitor knelt beside her, and he touched her face with a hand even as the other lifted his sword so the point rested against her throat.