David Dalglish - Night of Wolves

He dressed in his platemail, and he packed his things. Preaching in the village could wait. There were more important things to do.

“Are you leaving us?” Jeremy Hangfield asked as he sat with him at their table.

“I’m afraid I must,” he said. Jeremy stared him over, and he felt uncomfortable as he ate.

“You look ill. Is something the matter? A flu, perhaps?”

“Ill,” Jerico said, and he shook his head as if his mind couldn’t fathom basic conversation. “Ill news from home, perhaps. Thank you, Jeremy. You have been a good host.”

“A shame,” said Jeremy. “Before you go, Darius wished to speak with you. He said it was urgent, but wouldn’t tell me what about.”

A strange guilty feeling came over him. Had Darius received a similar dream? How much exaltation would have been in his? Could any paladin of Karak weep for their fall?

“Perhaps I will see him before I go,” he said, with no intention of looking.

After excusing himself, he gathered up the rest of his things and hoisted his pack onto his back, over his shield. Jessie was waiting for him at the door.

“Will the Citadel send someone to replace you?” she asked. The question stabbed straight to his heart.

“I fear not,” he said.

“I’ll miss you. Are you sure you must go? How else will I talk to Ashhur?”

Jerico sighed. She was staring at him from the corner of her eye, as if afraid to meet his gaze. With how haggard and drained he felt, he couldn’t blame her. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

“Even if I go, Ashhur will always remain. Take care, Jessie.”

He left their home and trudged south. He’d need supplies later, but he had enough to live on for now. The Citadel had given him plenty of coin, and he’d spent little of it. There would be many villages along the river, and he’d buy what he needed from them. He didn’t want to remain in Durham anymore. He felt guilty for abandoning his post, but how could he ignore such a portent sent in his dreams?

Darius spotted him passing through the town square, and inwardly he cursed himself for not going around.

“Jerico!” he said, hurrying over. He wore his armor, and it shone in the light.

“I’m leaving,” Jerico said, trying to keep the conversation quick and simple.

Darius looked as if he’d been slapped.

“Leaving?”

Jerico nodded and continued walking. Darius recovered, and he jogged to his side.

“You can’t leave,” he said. “How could you? The people here need you.”

“The wolf-men are dead, and I’ve done what I can to spread Ashhur’s word. Besides, what could you care about that?”

Darius pushed himself into Jerico’s way, forcing him to stop.

“Soldiers from Blood Tower arrived several hours before dawn,” he said. “They’ve taken up lodging in several houses, and I’ve told them not to say anything about what happened.”

“What happened? Start making sense, Darius.”

“Wolf-men assaulted them upon the river. They lost nine men and had to beach a couple miles outside the village. Right now they’re pretending it didn’t happen, and they are the full contingent Sir Godley originally sent.”

Jerico started to think over the matter, then shook his head and pressed on, his shoulder bumping into Darius’s.

“The village is safe enough,” he said. “You’re here, as are the soldiers now.”

“What?” Darius grabbed his arm and pulled him back, forcing him to face him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you need to snap out of it. At least twenty wolf-men attacked their boat. They’re watching the river, preventing reinforcements. That’s not normal, Jerico, and you know it. They’re planning an assault. Every single person here is at risk, and I expect a paladin of Ashhur to be brave enough to stand and fight them.”

Jerico yanked his arm free and glared.

“You would call me a coward?” he asked.

“I call you nothing. I just wonder what it is that could make you abandon the people who need you most. You said I was wrong to avoid Bobby’s funeral, and you were right. Yet now there will be a hundred funerals, assuming any live to bury their dead. Would you be absent from them all? And for what? Tell me what is so damn important!”

Jerico thought of the Citadel’s fall, thought of the undead swarming over his brethren. And then he thought of Jessie, sad little Jessie, being shredded by a pack of wolf-men. His clenched fists shook, and he tried to know what was right. In the end, he closed his eyes and asked Ashhur. He received no answer, but in the momentary calm, he felt his guilt overcome him. These people needed him. If Darius was right, and so many were massing along the river…

“I’ll stay until the village is safe,” he said.

“Good,” Darius said, smiling. “Now care to tell me what’s the matter?”

Jerico didn’t want to imagine the dark paladin’s reaction, whether it would be sadness, rejoicing, or indifference.

“Some other time,” he said as together they walked back to Durham.

Daniel ate his breakfast in silence, speaking only to compliment the young woman who had prepared the meal. Amusingly enough, her husband beamed with pride at every word he spoke.

“She’s a real cook, ain’t she?” said Henry, the husband. His wife, a portly lady with auburn hair, flushed and turned away.

Daniel shifted in his seat. Beside him sat two more of his men, all three having slept on the floor of the farmer’s home. Compared to either the boat or the wild, it felt like the softest of beds.

“Never knew oatmeal could taste so fine,” said Gregory.

“We may have to stay longer,” Jon agreed.

Pushing aside his half-full bowl, Daniel stood. The others fell silent.

“Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the couple. “I have business to discuss, so please, take no offense at my light appetite. The meal was fine, and it is a shame my stomach’s not set to enjoy it.”

“Want us to come with?” Gregory asked.

“Stay. Rest. I’ll talk with the paladins.”

The two soldiers shrugged and continued eating.

Daniel shivered as he stepped outside. Pulling his cloak tighter about him, he trudged toward Hangfield’s home. Daniel had never met the man, but his name had been on the formal request for aid. That, and when he’d spoken with the paladin Darius upon their arrival, he’d been told to meet them there come the morning.

“You get some rest before we discuss this further,” the blue-eyed paladin had told him. Daniel tried to oblige, but his dreams had been full of yellow eyes, and he’d woken multiple times covered with sweat. For all the battles he’d seen, it’d been years since he’d bloodied his blade, and even longer since he’d expected to lose. The feeling was far from welcome.

Damn old age, he thought. What he’d give to have his youthful feeling of invincibility back, if only for a little while.

A pretty lass waited by the door, and she curtseyed to him as he approached.

“Welcome,” she said, and he could tell she was trying her best to hide her nervousness.

“Tell me you weren’t waiting out here in the chill just for me,” he said.

Her gaze fluttered to the ground.

“I was,” she said. “Father wishes his guests to feel welcome.”

Daniel drew his sword, and her eyes widened. Flipping it about, he stabbed it into the dirt and kneeled before her.

“It is I who should bow to a beauty like you,” he said, smiling. “And I who should be waiting in the cold for a greeting. Please gift me with your name.”

It warmed his heart to see her giddy and breathless. She was on the cusp of womanhood, and maybe, just maybe, she would remember the honor shown to her and expect similar from the simple men of the village. She reminded him of his own daughter, who he’d lost to the bloody cough so many years before. The girl had the same green eyes. His heart panged at the remembrance.