the bloodshed that followed. We tried to make peace with the first few, giving them jobs or minor parcels of land. But they kept coming. They’d spent all they had believing Sebastian’s lie. Left with nothing, they would rather die…”
Kaide sighed.
“And die they did. Still, it wasn’t enough. So come winter, Sebastian finally sent in his knights. They didn’t kill a soul, only came for more ‘taxes’. Every bit of food, they took. They slaughtered our animals. They burned our storehouses. The winter was harsh, and he came after the first snow. By the time we could get a messenger to Mordeina, the King had already been convinced by Sebastian that bandits were running amok because our lands were lawless, ungoverned. We received no aid. And without food, and no game to hunt…”
Jerico put a hand on Kaide’s shoulder as the man closed his eyes and looked away to hide his tears.
“We starved. My mother and father, they were too old… I lost a brother. My wife. Every one of these men here, they lost children, family, or friends. And what we had to do to survive… am I cursed man, Jerico? Am I doomed in death for what I did, to survive, to keep my sister and little girl fed?”
“The stories,” Jerico said, his voice almost a whisper.
“Kaide the cannibal,” the bandit leader said, laughing darkly. “Come spring, we were too weak to fight back. More crowds filled the roads north, carrying deeds, and this time Sebastian came with the King’s authority to enforce them. Every last man, woman, and child of Ashvale was sent south, to make a living elsewhere.”
“You founded Stonahm,” Jerico said, piecing it together.
“I don’t want Sebastian to know where we live,” Kaide said, nodding. “I don’t want him to strike those we love. That’s why they’re so far away. We have all said goodbye to our wives and families, seeing them only when it is safe. This we endure to make Sebastian pay. It may seem we have no chance, but I have one last secret, one I cannot tell even you. Not yet. Some of the men don’t even know. But if we can stir up enough anger, kill enough knights, I know we can retake our home…”
Jerico closed his eyes and thought over the words. With Ashhur’s gift, he could sense anytime a man lied, and he’d not once felt that betrayal. Every word was truth. They’d been systematically assaulted, starved, and removed from their lawful home. If there was ever a rightful cause, it was Kaide’s.
“What do you mean, retake your home?” Jerico asked, suddenly realizing the true meaning of the words.
“Those people currently in Ashvale are thieves and robbers,” Kaide insisted. “I’ve watched the roads, and we’ve intercepted every shipment of food possible. Same for the gold they send south to Lord Sebastian. One day we’ll have enough strength, enough people, to march north and take our lands back.”
Jerico shook his head.
“I’ll help you, train your men and lead them into battle, but only against Sebastian’s knights. I won’t help you murder the people who took your homes. They thought they were the lawful owners, Kaide. The law told them they were right, and both lords and kings agreed.”
“You’d have me forgive them?”
“I’d have you let it go. You’re an honorable man. You’ve already sworn your life to vengeance. Must you yearn to repeat the bloodshed done against you?”
Kaide shook his head.
“You can’t understand. You weren’t there, watching helplessly as your loved ones withered and starved. You don’t fall asleep to red dreams filled with such hatred even Karak would be put to shame. But I’ll accept your help, and gratefully. Tomorrow morning, begin the training. I have a few weapons we stole from the knights, but truth be told, I haven’t given most out yet for fear no one knows how to use them. With you, I can make sure they don’t put the pointy end in themselves. We’re in the right on this, Jerico. Outlaw or not, Sebastian needs to suffer.”
“Outlaw,” Jerico said, and he chuckled. “Is there such a thing as an outlaw paladin? Sounds like a contradiction.”
“Hardly,” Kaide said, smacking him across the shoulder. “I have a feeling every true paladin is already an outlaw in this world.”
Kaide led him back to the fire, where the rest of the men were busy eating.
“Starting tomorrow, he’ll be your trainer,” he shouted to them. “And come our next ambush, he’ll be right there with us, standing against our foes.”
“Does this mean I get my armor and mace back?” Jerico asked as the men cheered half-heartedly. Kaide laughed, his good humor finally returning.
“All yours. You won’t regret this, Jerico. Not at all.”
Jerico prayed he was right.
9
In the darkness, Darius called out for the prophet.
“I am here,” Velixar said, stepping out from the shadows and into the light of the single torch. Beside him, the jailor slept, and with a touch, Velixar made sure he stayed that way.
Darius hung his head. He couldn’t even look at the man in black when he spoke. But he saw no other way. He had to find out. Denying Velixar without proof, without certainty, only risked him remaining a fool.
“One chance,” he said. His dry throat cracked his voice. “I’ll give you one chance, but that is all. I will listen, and see if Karak’s truth is with you.”
“Do you tire of this cell?” Velixar asked, approaching the bars. “Do you tire of your chains?”
Even swallowing hurt. It’d been a day since he’d had a drink, and he felt so tired, so thirsty. His back throbbed with every beat of his heart. His arms felt like torn, twisted limbs, never to regain their natural shape.
“Yes. I do.”
Velixar smiled.
“If only you could feel the cage about your soul as keenly as you feel those chains. Be free, Darius.”
A wave of his hand and the door opened. Another, and his bindings became like shadow, his flesh falling right through them. Darius’s back popped as he twisted left and right, gasping in pain as his muscles fired off random spasms. Despite the pain, it felt deliriously good to stand. He took an unsteady step toward Velixar, then another. The prophet held out his hand, and Darius took it. There was no warmth to the grip.
“Sustenance first,” Velixar said, his ever-changing face smiling. “Then learning.”
The torch flickered and died, and in the dark, they walked forward. Darius felt a momentary sickness, and then he was beneath open stars. He shivered at the cold. They stood on a tall hill, and when he glanced back, he saw the Castle of the Yellow Rose.
“Wait here,” Velixar said. “I must gather your things the guards took from you.”
Another portal of shadow ripped open before him, and then he stepped through, leaving Darius alone.
“Is this your will?” Darius whispered as he shivered. “Is this what you want, Karak? My god, please, show me your way. I’m tired of being lost.”
He looked to his blackened hand, and he wondered if the mark would ever be gone. Several minutes later, Velixar returned, tossing down a chest. It must have weighed a ton, and it thunked heavily against the grass, but the prophet showed no strain at all.
“Nearby is a stream,” he said. “The cold will not harm you, though it will be unpleasant. Consider it symbolic. Once you’ve cleansed yourself, come back and put on your armor. I would see the man you once were standing before me.”
Darius stumbled in the direction Velixar pointed, and sure enough he found a small stream winding its way south through the hills. He caught his reflection cast by moonlight atop the water, and the sight gave him pause. He looked a dead man, sleep-deprived and hungry. It’d been only a week, he knew, but even before the castle dungeon he’d been eating poorly, and sleeping little. He cast a pebble across his reflection to scatter it, then stepped in. The water was cold enough to hurt, but he clenched his teeth and fought his shivers. He’d endured far greater trials in his faith to his god. He would not falter now. When he finished bathing, he ducked his head under completely, feeling the chill seep into his bones, shocking the exhaustion from his veins. When he emerged, his entire body shook, but he did not care. After putting his clothes back on, he walked to Velixar.
