sitting in a chair near the corner. Her eyes were closed, and she rocked the chair back and forth with gentle pushes of her foot.
“Glad you’re here,” Jeremy said. “Darius and his, uh, friend are already down there, and I don’t like the sounds I’m hearing.”
“Sounds?” Jerico asked.
The man only shrugged and pointed them toward the musty door leading to the cellar. Gregory led the way. Halfway down he heard a strange shriek, and he realized it was the wolf-man crying out in agony. The sound made his skin crawl, and he pitied the others throughout the large house still trying to sleep. Jerico braced himself for the scene he knew he’d encounter, but was still unprepared for the brutality of it.
The wolf-man lay flat on the floor, this feat accomplished by the breaking of its knees so they might bend the necessary way, instead of backwards like a wolf’s. Ropes lashed across its body, nailed into the hard earth of the cellar. Patches of its skin were missing, as if burned, though he saw only a single torch hung upon the wall. Blood seeped across its body from a multitude of wounds. Pheus stood over it, shadows dancing across his fingers. Darius stood at his side. Watching with three of his men was Daniel, his arms crossed and his expression revealing nothing. The shadows dipped into the wolf-man’s flesh. It pulled against the ropes holding it, every muscle twitching chaotically.
“What is this?” Jerico asked, feeling stupid even as he said it.
“No business of yours,” said Pheus. “We have information to learn from this mongrel. Daniel’s soldiers were wise in keeping it alive, and should be commended for such quick thinking.”
Daniel scowled, clearly unimpressed with the compliment.
“You’re letting him torture it?” Jerico asked him.
“Three helpless women dead,” Daniel said, looking away. “Plus one of my men. Go take a look at Jessie’s room if you want to see why I let them be. The walls are painted red.”
Jerico glared at Darius, but the man returned his gaze unflinching.
“All our lives may depend on this,” said the dark paladin.
“Enough,” said Pheus. He knelt down and placed his hands on either side of the wolf-man’s head. “It is time you talk. Tell me your name, or you will feel pain a thousand times greater than you have felt before.”
“Yellowscar,” the creature whimpered. Its eyes were unfocused, with the whites of one turned pink and covered with veins.
“Very well, Yellowscar. Why did you kill those women? Were you under order?”
The creature made a strange sound. Jerico couldn’t decide if it were a laugh or a growl.
“I killed for honor.”
“Honor?” Daniel spat. “You killed helpless women for honor? ”
Yellowscar tilted its head so it could stare at him with its good eye. The pink one didn’t move with the other.
“You are weak. Human. You know nothing of honor.”
“Is that so?” Pheus said. He struck Yellowscar’s snout with his palm. Dark energy flowed into it, and the wolf-man yelped at the top of its lungs, a cry that stretched on for what felt like an eternity.
“Enough!” Jerico cried, not to the wolf, but to Pheus.
“You would challenge me?” the priest asked. Instead of angry, he appeared almost delighted by the prospect.
“I won’t watch you torture this poor creature.”
“Then leave,” said Darius. “You know this must be done.”
Jerico felt all eyes upon him, and he struggled to decide what was right. This creature might know when the attack would come. But making it suffer and howl while above children slept…it wasn’t right. He stepped toward Yellowscar, his motions careful. Black stars sparkled on the edge of Pheus’s fingertips, and he seemed eager for the slightest excuse to let them fly. Kneeling beside the wolf-man, Jerico put his hands on the worst of the creature’s wounds and prayed for the pain to stop.
“Rest,” he said to it, his voice low, reassuring. “Now listen. You have murdered our own, and no matter how this night ends, you will die for those crimes. We know who leads your pack. Redclaw, isn’t it? I’ve looked upon him. I’ve seen his strength, and when he comes to kill us, I will face him. I will bring him down. But before I do, I will tell him Yellowscar died a warrior. When will your pack attack Durham? Tell me, and I will end your suffering. The blood will be on my hands, not theirs. No torture. No pain. This is your one chance, Yellowscar. This is all I can promise, for beyond this is uncertain.”
Yellowscar looked at him, glancing only once at Pheus and his eager, painful touch.
“You are of honor,” it told him. “You I will trust. I will speak, but do not kill me here. Do not kill Yellowscar in ropes. Fight me beneath the moon so I may die a warrior.”
Jerico glanced at Daniel, who scratched his chin.
“Fair enough,” he said. “His legs are broke. He ain’t running off like that.”
“You cause us unnecessary delay,” Pheus argued.
“A delay, perhaps,” said Jerico.
The wolf-man’s hands were already bound together at the wrist, but its mouth still posed a threat. Darius wrapped a rope around it thrice, then knotted it behind Yellowscar’s head. He gestured to Daniel, letting him know he was all his.
“No,” Jerico said, stepping forward. “I will carry him.”
The wolf-man was heavy, and though he braced his weight on his shoulder, it was still agony standing. Despite his protest, Gregory stepped forward and took half the burden. Each holding an arm, Yellowscar’s legs trailing uselessly against the floor, they carried him up the stairs and into the night. The rest followed.
“He cannot stand,” Gregory said when they let go.
“Untie him anyway. We shall see.”
Watching him closely, Jerico cut the bonds around the wrists. Ashhur cried no soft warning in his head, so he did not flinch at their freedom. He removed the muzzle next. Done, he stepped back and pulled his shield off his back, the glow lighting up the darkness. He would not need it, but neither would he shame Yellowscar by handicapping himself.
“Stand, Yellowscar,” he said, drawing his mace.
The rest watched, keeping silent. The creature groaned, then rolled onto its stomach. Its heavy arms pushed itself to a sit. Its tongue hung from the side of its mouth, and every muscle in its body quivered.
“I said stand.”
One leg propped underneath, followed by the other. The joints snapped, the bones shifting back the way they belonged. Yellowscar howled, but did not fall. Inch by inch he rose, great shuddering breaths thundering out of his mouth.
“Redclaw attacks come the full moon,” he said, each word a labor. “And they will feast, and sing, and never return to the Wedge.”
Jerico felt the words in his head, and with an innate power of Ashhur, he tested to see if they were true. They were. He glanced at Daniel, nodded, and then took a step forward.
“Strike me, creature of the Wedge.”
Yellowscar cried out, for one brief moment sounding like the furious creature he was. His claws lashed out, slapping across Jerico’s shield. The paladin stepped in, swung his mace, and then closed his eyes as the metal struck bone. Yellowscar dropped to the ground, blood oozing from his jaw and empty eye socket.
“About damn time,” Darius muttered.
Jerico glared.
“We have two days,” Daniel said. He breathed in deep and then sighed, as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. “Now we know. Now we prepare. This is your mess, Jerico. I trust you to bury it.”
Daniel took his men and left. Pheus frowned at the corpse.
“Yellowscar was a heartless, brutal killer,” the priest said. “You give honor to what has none. You bow to the wishes of a beaten foe. Your kind is weak, Jerico, and full of fools. A shame the world may never learn this, for when the last paladin of Ashhur fades away, how will they ever see for themselves?”
He left, leaving only Darius and Jerico standing beside the body.
“I expected better from you,” Jerico said.
