“Moonclaw, Bonebite, with me,” he said. “We have much work to do, even beneath the angry fire of the sky. Rockeye, go west to the packs of Bloodfang and Murdertongue. Summon them to a Gathering. We have little time.”
“Yes, Wolf King,” said Rockeye, leaving at once. Redclaw walked south, the two strong wolf-men following him. He found where the men had lain, and he inhaled their scent. There had been a pair of them, and they stayed for a long while. Shaking his head, he turned to Bonebite and Moonclaw.
“No help,” he said. “No rescue. No chance for war. Hear my plan, Moonclaw. Hear me, Bonebite. Our freedom from the Wedge begins at dawn.”
8
Darius slept late into the morning, despite Jerico’s arguments otherwise.
“Either the wolf-men will catch us, or they won’t,” he’d said. “I don’t think me getting a few hours of sleep will matter one way or the other.”
“The people of Durham need to prepare.”
“Then you wake at dawn and tell them,” Darius had said as he set aside his armor and slipped into bed. “Meanwhile, the sky’s still dark and my head feels like two wolf-men are fighting inside. Good night.”
His head felt little better come waking, but at least it had lost some of its knife edge of pain. His legs ached from the many miles they’d walked, and his back was sore for doing it all while wearing his armor. He stayed in the sole upper room of Durham’s inn, and he came down to have breakfast with the lady of the place, a widow named Dolores.
“Bread and honey as always?” he asked her, trying for levity.
“You’ll make do with porridge,” she said, not a smile on her wrinkled face. “The whole town’s talking, and it’s got me scared. I can’t leave everything behind, Darius. Even riding in a cart will make my old bones groan, and what hope could I have to earn a living elsewhere?”
“I hear a beautiful woman such as yourself earn quite a lot in the back alleys of Mordeina.”
She slapped his head with a rag, and he grinned at her. Seemed like Jerico had already met with Jeremy, and he felt relieved. Let him deal with that enormous hassle. He began eating his meal.
“Oh, dear me, slipped my mind,” Dolores said a few minutes later. “A man came to speak with you, but I told him you’d been out at night helping us and you don’t take kindly to waking up early. He said he was one of you, at least in a way. A priest, he said. I offered him a room, but he said he wouldn’t be staying long.”
“A priest?” Darius asked. “Where is he now?”
“Said for you to meet him at the square. He seemed in quite a hurry.”
“Thank you, Dolores. I’d best be going then.”
He hurried back up the stairs, trying to make sense of things. Sometime in the next few months he knew a paladin of Karak was supposed to check in on his progress, but a priest? Had he just happened to pass by Durham? Or were they to change his assignment? Priests were considered superior to paladins in Karak’s hierarchy, and if the priest gave him an order, he would have no choice but to obey. Still, his arrival was certainly fortuitous in other ways. Perhaps he might help with the wolf-men, or know of a better plan than simply tucking their tails between their legs and running.
Once he was dressed in his armor, his sword sheathed on his back, he came down.
“Did he say a name?” he asked Dolores before stepping outside.
“I reckon he did,” said the woman. She tapped her teeth with a fingernail. “Slipped my mind, though. Seemed polite enough, though I wouldn’t wish him around long. Got a queer air about him. Cold, too.”
“Thanks.”
Darius pushed open the door and hurried his way to the square. Jerico found him first. A mob of seven or eight surrounded him, and he pushed his way toward the dark paladin.
“Enjoy your nap?” Jerico asked.
“Tremendously,” Darius said, forcing a grin. “Enjoy your talk with Jeremy?”
“He saw reason, thank Ashhur. The whole town will be heading south. We’re fifteen miles from Wetholm, and I doubt the little village can manage to feed even a third of us, but it’s better than nothing. We’ll just have to make do.”
“Sure thing,” Darius said, his eyes looking past him. Jerico evidently noticed, and he frowned.
“Something the matter?” he asked.
“No. Yes. Just a friend.”
Jerico glanced behind, and a bit of his cheer vanished.
“He’s been here all morning. I’ve stayed away out of respect. Any help the priests and paladins of Karak can offer would be appreciated.”
The group returned, asking Jerico questions and requesting aid.
“Will you be helping everyone prepare?” Darius asked before he turned away.
“We leave after midday. Not much time, so we’ll be stretched thin. Help who you can, and I’ll do the same.”
“As you say.” Darius pushed past him, toward the lone tree growing near the square. Leaning against it, being given a wide berth by the rest of the town, was a man in the black robes of a priest. His head was shaved, and a multitude of pendants made of silver and iron hung from his neck. He stood straight, his thin shoulders pulled back. His blue eyes lacked any amusement as Darius came before him and kneeled.
“Welcome to Durham, brother,” he said, his head low. “I hope your travels have been safe.”
“Nothing in this world is safe,” said the priest. He glanced at Jerico, and his frown deepened. “Least of all here. I come with great tidings, though I wish my heart would not be so troubled when I tell you. Do you remember me, Darius? I was there when you were first assigned along the river.”
Darius remembered, two years prior at the gates of the Stronghold. He’d completed the Trials, and having come of age, they gave him his first assignment: to travel along the northern stretches of the Gihon, preaching to the many villages that had gone years without hearing Karak’s word. The ceremony had been solemn, and his heart swelled with pride. Two priests had attended, invited to the special event. One had remained quiet, but the other…his eyes had the same icy blue, and his words still stung.
You are young, full of faith, and yet in you I sense a chaos rumbling. Mind your heart, your thoughts, and your ideas. Among the simple folk you belong, for I fear your reaction should you face a true challenge of Ashhur.
“Yes,” he said. “I remember you now, though I was never given your name.”
“I am Pheus, and it seems I was correct. How long has the paladin of the false god preached in your village, Darius?”
Darius felt his face flush.
“Perhaps a year, at most.”
“You have not driven him out? You have not rallied the villagers against him? Worse, I see you speaking with him. Have you reached some agreement with this paladin, some sort of truce? I do not understand it.”
Even worse, thought Darius.
He couldn’t dare tell Pheus, not facing his cold glare. With his arms crossed, the priest lifted his chin and turned as if the very sight of Jerico angered him. Darius tried to think of an excuse, but he knew none, and he stared at the ground in shame.
“I thought so,” said Pheus. He sighed, and his anger retreated into sadness. “I pity you, Darius. You have great potential, though more than ever I fear you will waste it. But perhaps I see only the weakness I fear; it is a curse my colleagues have often berated me for. This is a joyous occasion, and I come spreading the word to all the faithful.”
“And what is that?” Darius asked, glad to have the conversation changed.
“The Citadel has fallen. The paladins of Ashhur are scattered, homeless, with many casting aside their faith. Our time of victory has come. The Stronghold has declared war upon the survivors, every last one.”
Darius’s jaw dropped. He thought of Jerico’s attempt to leave the day before, and suddenly he understood.