power of life lingers on. Not just for mankind, either. A shame the bodies of the wolves were burned. They would make excellent servants for Karak.”
They reached the center of town, and there Velixar stopped. He seemed too pleased with himself for Darius to feel comfortable. In the distance, wild dogs began howling, as if they sensed the presence of the prophet.
“Do you know why I have brought you here?” Velixar asked.
“I can think of many reasons, therefore I cannot say. Why?”
“You let Ashhur’s paladin teach here, unchallenged, unquestioned. You let his lies spread, let his frailties be viewed as strength. Tonight, you shall rectify this error. Call the town. Bring them before you, and in the dead of night, show them truth.”
The prophet turned and began walking toward the distant forest that outlined the Gihon River.
“Will you not stay?” he asked.
“This is your test,” Velixar said, looking back. “Before the night’s end, I will return. Pray I am pleased with what I find when I do.”
Darius watched him go, and felt relieved when he was gone. For the first time since the dungeon, he was alone. Even when he prayed, he felt Velixar’s presence lingering like an intruder. At least now he could breathe.
“Rectify my error,” he muttered, looking about. “Easier said than done.”
In the deep of night, all would be asleep. Time to wake them up. He took his sword and stabbed it into the dirt before him. Clutching the hilt, he harnessed the power of Karak in one of the few ways he knew how. His voice multiplied in volume, thundering over the town as he gave his call.
“To me!” he cried. “To the center! I am Darius, returned, and my news is grave!”
Three times he let out his cry, until certain everyone would hear and obey. No doubt they felt fearful of another attack by the wolf-men. Let them. What waited by the river was far more dangerous than any wolf.
“Darius?” asked a familiar voice. Of the first to arrive was Jeremy Hangfield, the wealthiest landowner of the village. He wore heavy robes tied with a gray sash. At his side was his daughter Jessie, clutching his hand tight.
“Jeremy,” Darius said, tilting his head in respect. “I’m glad you’ve come. I will need your help in convincing the rest.”
“Convincing them of what?”
Instead of answering, Darius shouted again, urging the villagers to hurry. He beckoned them closer with his arms. As he spun, he took in the faces, former friends, acquaintances. For a moment, he thought there were still many lagging behind, perhaps even sleeping, but then realized the extent of the damage the wolf-men had inflicted. Two-thirds of the town, Jerico had claimed after taking count that horrible night. So many faces he did not see, and his heart ached for their fate. How many had been of his own congregation? Worse, how many had died with their faith clutching a lie?
“I know you all, as you know me,” Darius began. He’d always been comfortable speaking to crowds. He’d even joked with Jerico about it. His faith had given his words a fire the other paladin could not match, but tonight… tonight, he felt timid, quiet. Once he might have spoken, and trusted his words to be heard, but now he shouted as if he feared the sounds of the night would drown him out.
“I am Darius, paladin of our great lord Karak. I come to you with a heavy heart, and a heavier conscience. Many of you once gathered about when I lectured, and to you, I apologize for my absence. This night will be kindest to you, so do not fear what I have to say. To those who knelt with the paladin, Jerico, it is you whom I speak to with greatest urgency.”
“Come inside,” Jeremy said, his voice low. “Tell me first what danger wakes us in the night. Don’t do this here. You look a man feverish and ill.”
“No!” Darius screamed. “I am here because I must be. I have no choice. No choice! The darkness walks this night, and it brings a fire more dangerous than the teeth of wolves. It brings the fires of the Abyss. Forgive me, people of Durham, for my weakness. I let a liar become my friend. I let falsehoods be spoken next to my truths. In cowardice, I did not act, but I must now. Those of you who would worship Ashhur, I tell you: your god is false. What he teaches is lies and delusions, a doctrine made for a different world, not our own. Bend your knee, and swear to Karak. Judgment has come. Do not hesitate. Do not question. Bend the knee!”
Angry murmurs spread through the crowd. Few bowed, and even they seemed upset.
“Enough of this madness,” Jeremy said, grabbing Darius’s arm. “You disturb our rest for this?”
“Get back!”
Darius shoved him aside, and he pulled his greatsword free of the earth. Its fire burned across the blade, but not just the blade. His blackened hand was consumed as well, a dark flame wreathing his exposed skin, burning away the gauntlet.
“If you will not bow, you must leave tonight!” he cried. “No delay. No waiting. For the sake of your very lives, I demand this of you. Durham belongs to Karak now. If you would still live your lives in chaos, then go elsewhere.”
The crowd’s anger increased tenfold.
“This is our home!” they shouted. “Our land!”
Darius looked to them, and in their eyes he saw only fear and confusion. Symptoms of chaos.
“Do not misunderstand me,” he said. He pointed his blade at Jeremy. “I once lacked courage. No longer. I will slay all those who neither bow, nor flee. No more words. No more arguments. You all have heard, and know I speak truth.”
“What’s the matter with you?” asked a man, pushing to the front of the crowd. Darius recognized him as Jacob Wheatley, a poor farmer. He held a heavy club in hand, just one of many that had come to his gathering armed with simple weaponry. “Wasn’t so long ago you stood here and defended us. You saved us from the wolves, and now you’re telling us to leave?”
“You don’t have to leave,” Darius said.
“Not if we bow. I ain’t bowing, Darius. You saved my life, and I owe you, but nobody forces me to do nothing I don’t like. Karak ain’t my god. If you still say we go, then I might have to use this club here on your thick skull.”
“What are you doing?” Darius asked as Jacob tensed, holding the club before him like a sword. “You’ve seen what I can do. You know I am better than you. What hope do you have?”
“Hope that you’ll learn some damn sense.”
Darius looked to the crowd. Even those that had bowed, their faith loyal to Karak, had stood. Anger trembled in his breast. This was what Velixar wanted, wasn’t it? This was his way, and look what it cost him. The souls he had were gone, and the rest were ready to fight, unknowingly fighting for Ashhur. Or was this another lesson? What would Velixar say when he walked into this unruly mob and saw only enemies? Or would he say anything at all before the bloodshed began?
“I’m saving your lives,” Darius said, his voice dropping. “I’m saving your souls. For that, I will do everything I must. Bend the knee, Jacob, I beg of you.”
Jacob shook his head.
“I won’t,” he said. “You won’t do it. I know you well enough. You won’t.”
A direct challenge. The others were watching, waiting. None had the armor or weaponry to face him, but with their numbers, they had a chance to bury him if they attacked as one. But that would need bravery, and a communal sense of defense. Damn fools. He would not let them have it. He would not be made a liar. His words were his vow. With a single step, he lifted his greatsword and swung. It cleaved through the club as if it were straw. A second step, and he smashed Jacob in the face with the hilt of his sword. The farmer went down, blood gushing from his nose.
Before anyone could move, Darius put the tip of his blade an inch from Jacob’s neck. Even at that distance, the man’s skin started to redden from the heat of the dark fire.
“Enough,” Darius said, glaring at the crowd. “What else must I do to prove myself to you?”
“You won’t,” Jacob said, but his voice quivered.
“I will.”
“But why? You saved me before, Darius. Don’t you remember? Don’t you?”
The wolf-man had been on top off Jacob, its teeth already sunken into flesh. Darius had cut off its neck
