some royal princess. She was dressed as one, and she bedded a warlord. Perhaps it wasn’t that much of a stretch.
A few blankets rested upon the bench in the carriage, which Tessanna wrapped around herself. “Take us outside the city,” she said. “I wish to see my lover.”
Jerico acknowledged her by tensing his muscles and stepping forward. The carriage creaked a bit, but as he took another step, the wheels ceased their grinding. He took another, his task growing easier as the carriage gained momentum. They rolled down the street, straight for the southern exit. They passed by demon soldiers and the tested, and he felt shame claw at his gut as they stared. He fought it down. He would not feel shame, he told himself. Not from the looks given by fanatics and war demons.
“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Tessanna asked him. He said nothing. She crinkled her nose as she realized what he was doing.
“Stop being such a child,” she said. “Your tantrum will accomplish nothing.” Still, he remained quiet. The girl with blackest eyes glanced about, and she saw the whispering among the Karak faithful. They knew what Jerico was, she realized. They stared at him with mindless anger. Tessanna bit her lip, suddenly uncomfortable. She was better than them, she told herself. They hated Jerico because they were told to. She hated him for the hypocrisy he represented, for the hurt his kind had done to her. Hers was not mindless. She looked at the rippling muscles of his back as he pulled her and wondered. What might be if, just perhaps, her hatred really was mindless, and therefore could be cast aside…?
“What nonsense is this?” a raspy voice asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Oh, Qurrah,” she said, smiling down at her lover. Jerico had stopped just beyond the southern gate, where Qurrah stood with arms crossed, a frown on his face.
The half-orc gestured to the carriage. “A unique mode of travel,” he said.
“I am a pregnant woman,” Tessanna said, pulling her blankets tighter around her. “Did you think I would walk, or risk the bucking of a horse?”
“I suppose,” Qurrah said, eyeing the paladin with disdain. “But what of this horse? What happens if he bucks the reins?”
“Then I buck him back,” she said, giggling. Qurrah was not amused.
“He is dangerous,” he said. Jerico smirked at this.
“We will be fine,” Tessanna insisted.
“Many want him dead, Tess,” Qurrah said. “Be careful.”
“When am I not?” she asked. She clicked her tongue, and onward Jerico pulled them.
Hours later, he collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. His whole body shivered. His exposed skin was a bright, angry red. Above him the stars shone bright, a meager comfort. Pulling Tessanna through the city had been one thing, but across the hard earth and dying grass was another matter. His arms felt ready to fall off, and the center of his back screamed in agony. Most of his face and extremities were numb. He’d give anything for a fire to curl before, but he doubted he’d get one. Tessanna was punishing him.
“Come now,” she said, climbing out of her carriage. “You think you can hurt me with silence? Disturb me somehow?”
Velixar’s army stretched for half a mile all around them. Almost a thousand undead marched under his command, forming two columns on either side. The tested marched between, singing worship to Karak. Within them marched the war demons, preferring the ground over the biting air. They were in no hurry. The world was already theirs. They just needed to claim it.
One by one, tents popped up about the camp and fires roared to life. Jerico stared at a fire in the distance, wondering if he could throw himself in before Tessanna stopped him.
“I wonder,” Tessanna said as she drew out a knife, “just how sensitive your skin is right now. It looks numb, but maybe…”
She ran the tip across his shoulder to the back of his neck. He tensed, waiting for the stab, but none came.
“Tessanna,” he heard Qurrah say. The dagger left his neck.
“Yes, lover?” she asked.
He glanced around to see Qurrah shivering in his robes.
“Come,” the half-orc said. “I need your warmth by the fire.”
“Ruin all my fun,” she said, but she was smiling. She tucked the knife into her sash and knelt beside the paladin. “Some other night,” she whispered before kissing his scarred cheek. He jolted at her touch. Qurrah darkened visibly, but kept his rage in check. He took his lover in his arms and guided them back to his fire.
Still naked from the waist up, Jerico closed his eyes and did his best to pray as the temperature slowly fell. If he was lucky, he thought, the cold would take him in the night, without pain or torture. As Qurrah and Tessanna made love by the fire, Jerico heard the soft, quiet voice of Ashhur. It offered no warning, no promises, nothing intelligible. But it was there, and that comfort was enough.
A sharp pain to his gut woke him halfway through the night. Through blurry vision he saw several people standing around him, wearing faded robes of brown and gray. The stars glittered high in the sky.
“Get up,” one said. “Get up and defend yourself.”
Another sharp pain pierced his gut. Two more spiked his back. They were kicking him, his groggy mind realized. Why were they kicking him? A heel crushed his ear, waking the nerves within. He grunted in pain, then pushed away the foot. He sat up, brushing away his long red hair and glared at his harassers.
“Karak has given us gifts,” one of them said, holding up his new hands. “And we plan to show our gratitude.”
Jerico’s stomach heaved at the sight. All around him were the tested, and new hands had grown to replace their old, lost pairs. Bones protruded out the stubs of flesh that had been their wrists, locking together into fleshless, nerveless fingers. Soft whiffs of smoke rose from the bones, so that when they swung their hands they left faint trails that slowly dissipated.
“Defend yourself, paladin,” one of the tested said. “State your faith so we may kill you with dignity.”
Jerico stood, his head sagging and his arms limp. He smirked at the fanatical men and women around him.
“Will you not say anything?” another asked. “Or have you lost your faith?”
Jerico tilted his head to one side, grunting as his neck popped. Then he lashed out, grabbing his first accuser’s head with both hands. Before the others could react, he smashed his knee into the man’s face, shattering his nose and splattering them both with blood. He used the body as a barrier, shoving him aside as he lunged for the nearby carriage. He had a hunch about Tessanna, and seeing his shield on the carriage floor confirmed it. He hooked his arm through the tethers and spun about.
The tested screamed as their bone hands smacked against his shield, and screamed even louder as brilliant white light erupted from the metal, blinding their eyes. Those that touched the shield watched in horror as their hands exploded like chalk. The throng of tested shouted in a chorus of anger and vengeance.
Jerico laughed at them, then tossed his shield to the dirt. He had given them his answer. He still had his faith, and he was not afraid.
“Kill him!” shouted the tested whose nose Jerico had broken. They swarmed him, lashing out with their hands. He felt the bones smack against his exposed skin and held in vomit at their touch. He had a sudden idea that now he knew what Karak’s minions felt when they touched his shield, and he laughed. His laughter infuriated the tested all the more. Jerico collapsed to his side as they kicked and beat him. Both his eyes were already swelling, and his cracked lips spat blood.
“What are you doing?” Tessanna shouted, her voice carrying the power of thunder. A bolt of red lightning tore through the tested, scattering them. Tessanna followed, glaring with her deep black eyes. Magic danced about her fingers, daring any of them to say a word. The tested swore at her and the paladin, but none moved.
“Traitor!” one woman shouted. Tessanna struck her dead with an arrow of acid that dissolved her face into goo. The rest held their tongues. Tessanna knelt next to Jerico, who was busy coughing and retching.
“They hurt you,” she said, stroking his face. “They can’t do that. Only I can hurt you.”
She turned and stood, scanning the crowd for the one she knew was among them.
“Who can speak for your idiocy?” she asked. “Which among you can justify your stupidity?”
“Idiocy? Stupidity?” Preston said, wringing his hands as he emerged from among the throng. “The death of a
