The words had their effect on Arthur, though, far more than they had on Kaide. The lord sat up straighter in his chair, and he motioned for his guards.
“I will need time to think on this,” he said. “For you have given me much to think on. Until then, you will stay as guests in my castle, and have what little comforts I can afford. Sir Cyan, please, take them away.”
“With me,” said a dark-haired man, stepping from behind the lord’s throne. “I’ll escort you to your rooms.”
Their accommodation was simple, but acceptable, with the two to share a room. They flipped a coin to see who got the bed, Kaide winning. Jerico eyed the coin, suspecting trickery, but Kaide refused to say either way, denying the paladin the chance to know if he spoke truth or lie.
“Do you think Arthur will join us?” Jerico asked as he spread sheets across the cold floor and began taking off his armor.
“He’s easily manipulated, so long as you can tug at his sense of honor. Your earlier words did that pretty well, I think.”
“Nice to know I was needed.”
Kaide chuckled.
“Consider yourself emotional support. That, and having a paladin at my side does wonders to elevate my own status in the eyes of Arthur. Trust me on that. It makes it harder for him to see me as just a rugged, lawless bandit.”
“Even if that is what you are.”
“You’re free to leave at any time.”
Jerico fluffed his pillow, then lay down on the floor to test its comfort. It was far from comfortable.
“One day,” the paladin muttered as Kaide took out the coin and rolled it across his knuckles, mischief glinting in his eyes. “One day, I’ll take you up on that.”
11
“Why have we come here?” Darius asked as high above the stars twinkled.
“And you complain of my questions,” Velixar said, walking beside him. “Surely you can think of why we return.”
Before them stretched the town of Durham, Darius’s place of teaching for over a year. It was there he had tended his flock, and there he’d first met Jerico. A hundred memories flooded him as the two walked through the quiet streets. Time had erased the bloodstains, but not the vicious claw marks across the many buildings. Wolf-men had torn through the village, and Darius had stood against them, side by side with Jerico. They’d been heroes, he knew, and his name was retold in stories all throughout the North. He thought of that night, and of the pure calm he’d felt at Jerico’s side. There’d been such a wonderful simplicity to it all. The wolves had been his enemy, Jerico his friend, and together they fought until death.
But what would Velixar have called for? And what did he want now?
“Is it because of Jerico?” Darius dared ask.
“Everything we do, in one sense or another, is because of him,” Velixar said, frowning. “Because of your failure to kill him, to be exact. If you’re to ask questions, learn to ask better ones.”
They stopped in the center of town. Darius looked to homes, seeing a surprising number of new ones. After that night, he’d talked with Jerico of the survivors, merely a third of what they had been. Still, they had rebuilt, and now slept in peace, though he wondered how many dreamt of dark shapes crossing the river, yellow eyes glinting…
“I wish you could sense it,” Velixar said, closing his eyes and lifting his arms to the sky. “Even in death, the power of life lingers on. Not just for mankind, either. A shame the bodies of the wolves were burned. They would make excellent servants for Karak.”
They reached the center of town, and there Velixar stopped. He seemed too pleased with himself for Darius to feel comfortable. In the distance, wild dogs began howling, as if they sensed the presence of the prophet.
“Do you know why I have brought you here?” Velixar asked.
“I can think of many reasons, therefore I cannot say. Why?”
“You let Ashhur’s paladin teach here, unchallenged, unquestioned. You let his lies spread, let his frailties be viewed as strength. Tonight, you shall rectify this error. Call the town. Bring them before you, and in the dead of night, show them truth.”
The prophet turned and began walking toward the distant forest that outlined the Gihon River.
“Will you not stay?” he asked.
“This is your test,” Velixar said, looking back. “Before the night’s end, I will return. Pray I am pleased with what I find when I do.”
Darius watched him go, and felt relieved when he was gone. For the first time since the dungeon, he was alone. Even when he prayed, he felt Velixar’s presence lingering like an intruder. At least now he could breathe.
“Rectify my error,” he muttered, looking about. “Easier said than done.”
In the deep of night, all would be asleep. Time to wake them up. He took his sword and stabbed it into the dirt before him. Clutching the hilt, he harnessed the power of Karak in one of the few ways he knew how. His voice multiplied in volume, thundering over the town as he gave his call.
“To me!” he cried. “To the center! I am Darius, returned, and my news is grave!”
Three times he let out his cry, until certain everyone would hear and obey. No doubt they felt fearful of another attack by the wolf-men. Let them. What waited by the river was far more dangerous than any wolf.
“Darius?” asked a familiar voice. Of the first to arrive was Jeremy Hangfield, the wealthiest landowner of the village. He wore heavy robes tied with a gray sash. At his side was his daughter Jessie, clutching his hand tight.
“Jeremy,” Darius said, tilting his head in respect. “I’m glad you’ve come. I will need your help in convincing the rest.”
“Convincing them of what?”
Instead of answering, Darius shouted again, urging the villagers to hurry. He beckoned them closer with his arms. As he spun, he took in the faces, former friends, acquaintances. For a moment, he thought there were still many lagging behind, perhaps even sleeping, but then realized the extent of the damage the wolf-men had inflicted. Two-thirds of the town, Jerico had claimed after taking count that horrible night. So many faces he did not see, and his heart ached for their fate. How many had been of his own congregation? Worse, how many had died with their faith clutching a lie?
“I know you all, as you know me,” Darius began. He’d always been comfortable speaking to crowds. He’d even joked with Jerico about it. His faith had given his words a fire the other paladin could not match, but tonight… tonight, he felt timid, quiet. Once he might have spoken, and trusted his words to be heard, but now he shouted as if he feared the sounds of the night would drown him out.
“I am Darius, paladin of our great lord Karak. I come to you with a heavy heart, and a heavier conscience. Many of you once gathered about when I lectured, and to you, I apologize for my absence. This night will be kindest to you, so do not fear what I have to say. To those who knelt with the paladin, Jerico, it is you whom I speak to with greatest urgency.”
“Come inside,” Jeremy said, his voice low. “Tell me first what danger wakes us in the night. Don’t do this here. You look a man feverish and ill.”
“No!” Darius screamed. “I am here because I must be. I have no choice. No choice! The darkness walks this night, and it brings a fire more dangerous than the teeth of wolves. It brings the fires of the Abyss. Forgive me, people of Durham, for my weakness. I let a liar become my friend. I let falsehoods be spoken next to my truths. In cowardice, I did not act, but I must now. Those of you who would worship Ashhur, I tell you: your god is false. What he teaches is lies and delusions, a doctrine made for a different world, not our own. Bend your knee, and swear to Karak. Judgment has come. Do not hesitate. Do not question. Bend the knee!”
Angry murmurs spread through the crowd. Few bowed, and even they seemed upset.