David Dalglish: Clash of Faiths

“Must you always be talking in there?” the man once asked around midday.

“I’m praying,” Jerico replied.

“Then pray into a pillow or something. Tired of hearing it!”

Jerico spent the next hour praying directly in front of the door, and his lamentations were loud and heartfelt. He even prayed for Barry’s soul, and only the iron will of a paladin kept him from breaking into laughter at the angry shouting that caused.

Come nightfall, he heard only silence. He wondered if they’d left him without a guard. No one answered his occasional question. Through the window, he saw the occasional person milling about, nearly all of them male. He wondered if Kaide recruited only unmarried men, or if they kept their families somewhere else, presumably safer. Jerico added that to the list of other questions he expected to never receive an answer to. The best information he could get out of Adam and Griff was their last name: Irons.

When the stars were at their fullest, the door opened without a single knock for warning. Sandra stepped inside, then closed the door behind her. Jerico sat on his bed, feeling ragged and dirty. It’d been days since he bathed, and despite the moderately improved living conditions, he was still not the cleanest. Brushing a hand through his hair, he smiled, then remembered to bow.

“Kaide still thinks you will run,” she said, as if struggling to think of something to say. “Will you?”

“Not going to lie. If I thought I could, I’d already be gone.”

“You haven’t tried breaking down the door, or digging through a wall. You’ve made no effort to escape. You speak in blusters.”

“How do you know?”

She smiled at him.

“Because you’re a paladin. That’s just not what you do, is it? Or have the stories I’ve heard all been a lie?”

Jerico shrugged. “Depends on what stories.”

“What about the one with you and the wolf-men?”

The paladin groaned.

“That one made it all the way up here?”

Sandra seemed intrigued by his annoyance. She sat in a chair beside his small fire, shifting her skirt to the side. Her dress was thick and cut high, practical for the rough terrain surrounding the area.

“I think all of Mordan will be talking about that one for a while, though the paladin’s name has changed several times. But I still think it is you.”

“And why’s that?”

“I’ve seen your shield.”

Jerico shrugged. Seemed pointless to argue it.

“I wasn’t alone,” he said. “And the men with me fought bravely, many dying to protect others. We fought a few hundred wolf-men, killed most, and chased the rest off. Meanwhile, more than half the town died. It wasn’t some epic victory, not the true version of the story, anyway.”

Sandra shifted in her seat.

“I liked the one I heard better. It described you as a man with hair made of fire, and a shield of pure light. You would point it at your enemies, and the light itself would strike them down. I heard not a man died, not a woman or child touched.”

Jerico thought of the horrors he’d seen, and the many graves he’d dug.

“I’d rather talk of something else,” he said.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Oh, why your brother’s keeping me captive. That might be a fun story to hear.”

Sandra rolled her eyes.

“That’s something I’d rather not talk about, either,” she said.

“Forgive me for pressing the issue anyway.”

Standing, Sandra looked away for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts.

“What do you know of Lord Sebastian Hemman?” she asked. At Jerico’s shrug, she continued. “Not many know anything about him outside our lands. By law, he rules much of the North. He draws his wealth from our fields, our mountains, and the sweat of our brow. When Kaide could take it no longer, when he was given no choice, he gathered his friends and struck back.”

“Fascinating,” Jerico said, trying not to sound condescending. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” she said. “Kaide’s off chasing rumors of Sebastian’s knights traveling the road through the forest. You’ll be needed when they return.”

“Why did you come to talk to me?” Jerico asked before she could exit the door. “Is it guilt?”

A sad smile marred her beautiful face.

“I’m here because I wish things were different,” she said. “I’m here because I want you to know we are not butchers, thieves, and cruel people.”

“You kidnap, rob, and attack men loyal to the king,” Jerico said. “Your brother breaks hundreds of laws. Oh, and his thugs beat me with clubs. Forgive me for not warming up to him.”

Sandra left, refusing to argue the point. Jerico slammed a fist against the wall when she was gone.

“Help me out, Ashhur,” he whispered. “I don’t have a damn clue what I’m doing.”

An hour or so passed, a disturbing silence compared to the previous day and night. All commotion had died down. Sandra said Kaide had gone after some of Hemman’s knights, and he must have taken the entire camp with him. If there was ever a time to escape, it was now.

“I want no part of this,” he said, leaning against the door. In the dark, he could see little through the slit. Still, there appeared no guard, and he heard no nearby noises. Putting his hands against the door, he tested the lock’s strength. It budged, but only a little. Stepping back, he kicked it once, twice, and then slammed his shoulder against it. The wood groaned, and the noise seemed thunderous in the quiet. Preparing another charge, he just barely stopped in time before impaling himself on the tip of a spike that pressed through the door’s slit.

“I must admit,” Sandra said from the other side. “I’m disappointed.”

“Move aside, Sandra. I won’t be kept prisoner.”

The metal tip remained.

“I have a bow as well,” she said. “Even if you kick down the door, you won’t escape. I’ve learned plenty from my brother, Jerico. I know the vital spots to kill a man. You aren’t leaving, not until he gives you his blessing. I’m sorry.”

Jerico sighed, and he slumped down into the chair Sandra had occupied. It seemed absurd, knowing he’d have to subdue a single woman to make his escape. But armed with a spear and a bow, she was quite capable of killing him. More importantly, he’d have to hurt her to protect himself, and that was something he wasn’t willing to do. To strike at a woman, just because he didn’t like his current sleeping accommodation? Hardly the actions of the champion of mankind he was supposed to be.

“Very well,” he said, wondering how in the world he’d ended up in such a predicament. “I’ll behave.”

“Good.”

The tip vanished, and he saw her eyes peer at him through the door. He could tell she was smiling.

“You better not tell anyone about this,” he said.

“Everyone who will listen. Don’t worry, you’ll even make it outside in this tale, before I wrestled you to the ground and beat you unconscious with my bare hands. Should earn a few chuckles around the campfire.”

Jerico laughed, deciding he easily liked her most of all his jailors so far.

*

To prepare himself for bed, Jerico knelt and began his prayers. Barely a few minutes in, he heard distant shouts. Stopping, he went to the small window and tried to see. Torchlight flickered through the trees, and a crowd of men appeared, walking along a path. A couple veered his way, and he stepped back from the window. A short while later, the door opened, and in stepped Kaide. A wicked bruise bled across his brow. Blood stained his clothes.

“Outside,” he said. “There isn’t enough room in here. Shit, it’s bad, Jerico. I hope you can handle it.”