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“Greetings, hand of Karak,” the priest said. “Welcome to our camp.”

“I have heard rumors,” Velixar said, not returning the bow. “Rumors of a new high priest to replace Pelarak.”

“I am he,” the priest said. “Once I was Preston, but now I am Melorak, the name given to me by Karak as I slumbered in the night.”

Velixar crossed his arms. His ever-changing face scowled at the many other priests who gathered about. By the way they surrounded him he could tell they believed him their leader.

“Karak whispers to me as well,” Velixar said. “As he always has. Yet I hear not your name, Preston, nor of any new high priest.”

Preston turned his palms upward. Qurrah frowned at the fake humility on the pudgy man’s face. His cheeks sagged as if he had once been very heavy but lost much of it at a rapid pace. He was bald, and he wore no jewelry or any open sigils to Karak.

“I do not claim to know Karak’s methods,” Preston said. “But I know he works in mysterious ways. Do you doubt my faith, or the vote of the other priests, hand of Karak? Do you doubt Karak himself, or are you in such a high position that our god must reveal every decision to you for permission?”

The red in Velixar’s eyes flared bright.

“You talk dangerously,” he said, his voice deepening. “I will not have Karak’s victory put at risk. Remember that, for I will be watching you.”

“Karak watches us both,” Preston said. “And I hold faith in his judgment.”

Velixar turned away, Qurrah and Tessanna trailing after. Once out of earshot, he began cursing long and loud.

“That fool,” Velixar said. “I knew I should have killed him while he was still a pup in training.”

“You still can,” Qurrah said. “He cannot match your power.”

“The priests would protect him,” Tessanna said. “Though I do not understand why.”

“Because he has them fooled with his humility and twisted words,” Velixar said. A trio of orcs marching down the street dared pass too near, and Velixar struck them dead with bolts of fire.

“He speaks half-truths and delusions,” the man in black said, staring at the burning corpses. “All he wants is power. He treats his faith to Karak as a tool. And that name! Only Karak has the authority to give such a name.”

“What does it mean?” Qurrah asked.

“Order-bringer,” Velixar said, his hands shaking with rage. “Believed to be the last name Karak will bestow before Mordan is destroyed and all of Dezrel conquered. It is a twisted prophecy. I am his prophet, and never once have I spoken it, but the priests cherish the delusion.”

“Such anger,” Tessanna said. “The world approaches ruin, and you seethe at a pathetic priest grabbing for power in the last days?”

Velixar whirled on her, his face freezing into a skull covered by the thinnest stretches of skin. Fire burned within his mouth as he talked.

“The priests have turned their backs to me time and time again,” he said. “Pelarak was one of the few who heard my wisdom and obeyed, but Ashhur’s lapdogs killed him. Many feel I am a relic from a time long broken. They whisper that I don’t hear Karak’s words, that I seek only control. Hear me; they will rally about Preston as a sign that my time has passed. The tested will follow them blindly. Soon they will turn to the dark paladins.”

They resumed their walk down the streets. Qurrah looked at the broken buildings, burned roofs and blood-soaked roads. How long ago was it he walked amid bustling streets, filled with mindless chatter and barter? The sight of such desolation stirred his gut. The entire world would soon be likewise. He knew he could not live in such a world. He and Tessanna would have to escape to another, escape from the work of his own hand.

“Will the paladins listen to him?” Qurrah asked when he felt Velixar had calmed.

“Krieger is their new commander,” Velixar said. “His faith in me is great.”

“His faith in us, though, is nil,” Qurrah said, his words squeezing a giggle out of Tessanna.

“You have already proven your worth,” Velixar said. “The portal is open, and Karak will soon be freed. But Krieger is young, as are his brethren. Preston will try to seduce them with his lies.”

“Why doesn’t Karak strike him down?” Qurrah asked.

Velixar shook his head. “I’m not sure if Karak can, but if he could, he still would not. You have seen the tested. Karak will see if his priests are true or not, whether they follow his prophet or fall for a lie.”

“And you will let that test run its course,” Tessanna said. “That’s why you don’t kill him.”

“Yes,” Velixar sighed. “That is why.”

Their walking led them to the southern gate. Stretched before them were the orc tents, all jostling with commotion. The orc army was preparing for departure. Soon they would spread out like a swarm of insects, all across the east. The few human towns left would be assaulted, burned, and destroyed.

“In a way, I long to join them,” Qurrah said. Tessanna wrapped her arms around his elbow, and Velixar nodded in understanding.

“There is a simplicity there,” Velixar said. “A joy in the slaughter. Do not succumb to it. Our path is harder, our trials greater, our achievements higher.”

“I need to rest,” Qurrah said. “No matter how hollow sleep feels lately.”

He and Tessanna turned back to the castle, leaving Velixar to stare at the preparing orc army.

Inwardly he groaned with anger. His priests were beginning another play for spiritual dominance. His paladins would soon be a battled-over trinket. Even worse, Ulamn’s warriors were scrambling for every possible way to diminish his importance in their conquest. His hold on power was tenuous at best, fleeting at worst.

“Give me strength,” he prayed aloud. “Aid me, Karak. I refuse to falter so close to the end.”

He waited for Karak’s cold voice reaffirming his role, his power, his faith. It never came, and Velixar cursed his weakness for needing it in the first place.

2

J erico stirred awake as the door opened and Tessanna stepped inside. His arms and legs grumbled with dull throbs of pain from the bonds around his wrists and ankles. His stomach growled, and he wondered how long it had been since he had a drink of water or a bit of food. He saw Tessanna’s hands empty and knew it would be even longer.

“Welcome back,” Jerico said. “I would stand to greet you, but…”

“Shut up.” Tessanna sat on the bed and stared at him. She was angry, although he could only guess why.

“Where’s your lover?” he asked. “Asleep again?”

“He needs rest,” she said. “And I said shut up.”

The paladin shrugged his shoulders, a motion that popped his back. He grunted at the pain. For a moment he rested his head on the stone and stared at the girl, who stared right back.

“Can I help you?” he finally asked.

“Why did you apologize?” she asked. “Tell me, honestly. I will know if you lie.”

“Lying’s not my style,” Jerico said. He glanced to the floor, then closed his eyes. “And I apologized because if anyone needs grace, it’s you.”

“Grace,” she said. “I don’t understand.”

“Most don’t.”

She stood, biting her lip and turning her back.

“You have no right to apologize for the deeds of another,” she said.

“I can still feel the shame, though,” he said. “And I can still wish it undone.”

“You wish to hurt me!” she suddenly shouted. Ice and fire sparked about her fingertips in a wild, random pattern. “You just want me to stop your torture.”

Jerico looked up at her face, her beautiful features etched with sadness.

“Believe what you want,” he said. “But I do not lie, and I do not fear your torture. Do what you need to do.”

There was no joy in her eyes, no temptation on her lips as she drew the knife. Without a word, she stabbed it into his gut. As he cried out in pain, she twisted the hilt.

“I forgive you,” he said as he felt his blood run down his abdomen. She yanked out the blade and stabbed it through his hands, pinning his palms to the floor. Tears filled his eyes, yet still he said those horrible words.