“In the field,” Darius said when Grick paused.
“What am I going to dig with?” Grick asked.
“The gods gave you hands for a reason. Now start.”
“What about the wagon? You just gonna leave it here? Someone will take it.”
Darius chuckled. The irony was not lost on him.
“Then let’s pray whoever finds it is much more deserving of it than you.”
He watched Grick dig as the sun crawled across the sky. Progress was slow in the hard ground. Darius did his best to feel no compassion, no remorse, as the cuts grew across Grick’s hands. He was a murderer, after all. Karak would have had him executed, the old ways even calling for his sacrifice upon an altar. Glancing down at the scratched off lion on his chest, Darius reminded himself he was slave to those ways no longer. Blood dripped across the shallow groove that was Gacy’s grave.
“Slide over,” Darius said as he jammed his sword into the dirt, still within arm’s reach. “I killed him. This is my grave to dig, too.”
Together they tore into the ground with their hands, until at last there was enough space for a body. Darius dragged Gacy into it, and then covered it with what dirt they had. It was not enough, and Darius knew wild animals would soon come to dig it up. Still, there was little else he could do. If not wild animals, then the worms would have him, but at least they’d done something.
“Come on,” Darius said, grabbing his sword. “Walk.”
Darius had no desire to chat, and thankfully Grick picked up on it. In silence they traveled down the dirt road, Grick ahead, Darius holding the rope like the other man was some sort of pet. The hours spent digging the grave had killed much of the day, and by the time they found a trio of trees growing beside the road, the sun had begun to set.
“There,” Grick said, pointing toward the trees. “That’s where we hid. Bodies should be around here someplace.”
It wasn’t difficult to find where they’d been dumped. Darius just followed the blood. There were three bodies. Two were husband and wife, lying side by side as if they would stay together even in death. At their feet, face down, was the body of a child. Darius rolled her over so he could see her face, see the bugs crawling across her pale skin, see the trickle of blood dripping from her nose to her mouth. The paladin swallowed hard, and he heard Velixar’s voice in his head, mocking him.
What say you now, Darius? Is this man worth the time, the effort? Run your sword through him, and make this world a better place. Or do you still see compassion as a virtue, and not a weakness?
“Why?” Darius asked, turning to the thief. “Why did you kill the child, too? You had their things. You had their wagon.”
Grick stepped back, reaching the extent of the rope. It tightened about his neck, and he winced.
“It was a mercy,” he said.
“Mercy?” Darius felt his fury swell. “Mercy!”
He rushed the man, struck him with his fists. The heavy gauntlets smashed into Grick’s nose and teeth. Darius flung him to the ground, kicked, and then fell upon him, his hands clutching the front of his shirt.
“Mercy?” he shouted. “You killed a child, and you call it mercy?”
“Gacy woulda kept her,” Grick said, spitting out blood and a tooth so he could talk. “Woulda taken her, done…we didn’t know she was in the wagon, and the parents died fighting back. She’s just a little girl, no ma, no pa. It was mercy, please listen, either that or Gacy.”
No warning this time, no certainty from Ashhur that he spoke a lie. Darius thought of the wounded man Velixar had brought him to, bleeding and in pain. Killing wasn’t a punishment, Velixar had said. It was a mercy. Staring down at the thief, Darius saw pieces of himself, of what Velixar had sought to create, only in a far more terrible light.
“I made sure she felt nothing,” Grick said when Darius said nothing. His words broke the silence, and Darius stood.
“We have no time for a burial,” he said. “We’ll burn them, just as you should have.”
By the time the pyre was complete, night was upon them. Darius felt tired, his armor heavy on his body. The fire burned, and in it, Darius thought he saw a glimpse of the Abyss, and Velixar’s mocking smile. This was the world he defended. These were the people Darius had sworn to defend, to save, when he sided with Jerico over Karak.
“How much farther is the town?” Darius asked Grick as the smell of burnt flesh and hair filled the air.
“Another four miles,” Grick said.
“Too far, then. We’ll stay here for the night.”
They moved to the cluster of trees and built a small fire. Darius chewed on his lip, then removed the rope from around Grick’s neck, leaving only the tight cords about his wrists.
“I won’t leave you hog-tied through the night,” Darius said, settling down opposite the fire and the trees. “You’ll want to run, I’m sure, but know that I can track you. I’ve been trained for this, Grick. I know where you’d go, how you’d hide, and I can’t promise to control myself the next time I find you.”
“Then what do you want me for?” Grick asked, pressing his hands against his neck and rubbing the raw flesh.
“To deliver you to justice. Like I said, we’ll let the townspeople decide your fate.”
“Then just kill me now. You know that’s what they’ll do.”
Darius rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids. Yes, he did know that. What in the gods’ names was he doing? What did he hope to accomplish?
“You killed people,” Darius said. “You know you must be punished.”
“You killed Gacy. Don’t see no one punishing you.”
“Children,” Darius said. “You killed children.”
“Yeah, I did, and I did it to protect her. You saying you never done something like that?”
Darius opened his mouth, then closed it. The praying family flashed before his eyes, followed by Velixar’s laughter echoing in his ears. Yes, he had. And Jerico had forgiven him for all of it. And now Ashhur placed his trust in him. Damn it, why couldn’t things remain simple?
“Yes,” Darius said quietly. “I have. And then I flung myself to my knees and demanded that my friend deliver justice.”
Grick shifted against the tree he leaned against.
“Why didn’t he kill you?” he asked.
Darius chuckled.
“Because he’s a better man than I.”
He rolled over, clutched the hilt of his sword. When he spoke, he did not look at Grick, did not want to see his reaction.
“Go if you wish, thief. I don’t know what is right anymore. You deserve death, but then again, so do I. So go. Let someone who can sleep through the night decide your fate. Run away from your punishment. When the gods one day find you on your deathbed, may they possess greater wisdom than I.”
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He heard rustling several times, but Ashhur cried no warning in his ear. At last sleep came for him, and he dreamt of a little girl running through a field, flowers in her hair, her face lit with a smile.
When Darius woke, Grick lay against the same tree, his head lolled to one side. His neck was slit, and blood soaked the front of his clothes. Valessa stood beside him, grinning. Darius grabbed his sword, but Valessa only laughed at him.
“Ashhur protected you from me,” she said. “But not him. What does that mean, Darius? Can you answer?”
She stepped through the tree and vanished.
“What does it mean?” Darius asked, fighting away the lump in his throat. “It means I must bury him. That’s what it means.”
He spent the morning digging the grave and the afternoon filling it back up with dirt. He gave a quick prayer over it, for he knew not what else to say.
“I know nothing of him but his sins,” Darius whispered to the cold evening air. “But he stayed. I pray that meant something.”
The grave went unmarked, and traveling east, Darius did his best to think no more on it.