heard cries to their left, of Arthur’s troops sounding the retreat.
The battle was lost.
“Go!” Jerico shouted, plunging into the gathered forces. Blows rained down upon him, denting his armor and slashing cuts across his face. He swung his shield in a high arc, slamming away soldiers, and then grabbed Kaide by the shirt. With all his might he flung the man away.
“I said run!” he screamed as all around him the bandits died. They needed no further orders, not from Kaide. Casting aside their weapons, the remaining few fled. Kaide looked to Jerico, and he mouthed a promise the paladin could not hear amid the din. Then he turned and ran. Jerico brought his attention back to the soldiers, who were cheering their victory. Most rushed to assault, with many giving Jerico a wide berth. They wanted the fleeing men, the ones lacking armor and weaponry.
Twenty remained behind, though, surrounding Jerico in a wide circle. They were the furious, the ones who had lost friends to his mace. Jerico braced himself, his shield tucked against his body as he met their stares.
“Victory is yours,” he said. “No one else must die.”
“Sebastian will want him prisoner,” one of the soldiers said, though the rest murmured in disapproval. None seemed ready to attack, for everyone clearly knew the first to attack would die. Jerico kept shifting, letting none see his back for long.
“To the Abyss with what Sebastian wants,” said their leader, who cast off his helmet so Jerico could see his glare. “Too many died at his feet. Drop your mace, paladin, and I will make it merciful.”
Jerico grinned
“I’ll die with my weapon in hand,” he said. “And only if you can best me.”
The rest tensed. The attack was soon to come, and would begin with the first blow. Jerico prayed that Ashhur would be kind, and take him into his arms. He braced for the cries of battle.
The cries came, not of victory, but pain. Fire burned a ring around him, keeping him safe. Another blast of flame came in from outside the forest, consuming many of the soldiers. They turned to face their attacker, as did Jerico, whose blood ran cold at what he saw. Approaching the forest was a man in the black robes of Karak, his deathly skin pale in the sunlight. Dim red eyes shone from beneath his hood, which hid all but his bemused smile. A woman was with them, dressed in gray. Two dark paladins walked at his side, one a stranger, and one painfully familiar.
“Darius,” Jerico whispered.
“He is mine,” the man in black said, pointing to the remaining soldiers. “Go seek the spoils of your war elsewhere.”
Despite their fury at his magic, the remaining men knew they could not challenge one who wielded fire with his bare hands. They hurried on, chasing after Kaide. Jerico lifted his shield, his eyes unable to leave Darius. The man had a starved look about him, all traces of his good humor long vanished. Pain was evident in his eyes as he gave Jerico a cold glare. Around Jerico, the fire spread, setting trees aflame. At his feet, though, the grass blackened and died, but did not burn. The heat was heavy, but the smoke rose on the wind, and the fire only burned outward.
“Paladin of Ashhur,” shouted the pale man who seemed a priest. “Karak has declared your life forfeit. Meet your executioner.”
And then Darius drew his sword. At sight of the dark fire wreathed about its blade, Jerico felt his last vestige of hope die.
17
Darius felt the eyes of everyone upon him as he stepped into the burning forest. Even Karak seemed to watch him, and he prayed he would not disappoint. His faith was strong. He would endure. No matter that Jerico looked to him with such betrayal and sadness that it rent a hole in his heart. No matter that he felt fury at the entire circumstances thrusting them into such a battle. Only Karak’s will mattered, and Karak’s desire was plain, simple.
“I will not ask for forgiveness,” Darius said as he lifted his sword with both hands and adopted an offensive stance. “Not for this. You are to die, Jerico. My god demands it.”
For a brief moment, the old Jerico surfaced, a half-smile stretching at his face.
“Then tell him no.”
Darius grinned, though he felt no humor.
“Not this time. I have rejected him once, and was rejected in turn. Not again. You are a plague upon this world, a false light that must be extinguished. Dezrel was not made in your image. Ashhur’s hope is a hope of fools and peasants. Karak is truth. The wretched, the broken, the selfish, the weak… they will burn in fire. My fire.”
He swung, and it seemed his entire world slowed to a crawl. His sword struck Jerico’s shield, two lights intertwining, the dark and light bursting together in violent sparks that showered the ground. Darius felt a spike of pain from the contact, but Jerico felt it as well. Both staggered back, breathing heavily.
“I won’t break,” Jerico said, repositioning his shield. “You know that.”
“I know you’re a fool.” He swung again, trying to shatter Jerico as if he were a stone. Sword and shield connected, and the shockwave of it echoed throughout the forest. “I know my faith is stronger. I will break you. I have no choice!”
At his third swing, Jerico parried it aside with his mace and then lunged, his shield leading. Darius screamed at the painful light. Never before had it made his eyes ache so. He turned away and rolled, avoiding a swing from the mace. Spinning on his knees, he kicked to his feet, stabbing. Jerico shifted to the side, narrowly avoiding an impaling.
“No choice?” Jerico cried, stepping back as Darius swung wildly. “Is that what you tell yourself? You are no slave, Darius, no puppet. I was your friend, damn it, remember that!”
“Friend?” Darius asked as their weapons connected. When Jerico tried to shove forward with his shield, Darius was ready. He pulled back and struck it with his blade, the dark fire flaring. They both felt the pain, but Darius knew his blows were raining down ever harder, Karak’s strength flooding his veins. The other paladin staggered deeper into the forest. The red light of the fire shone upon them, and in the glow Darius felt himself returned to the Abyss, fulfilling his visions.
“Friend,” Jerico gasped, stumbling onto one knee before quickly standing.
“I gave my life for you,” Darius said. “I sacrificed everything, even my faith, for you. And what do I find? You leading a rebellion, sowing chaos throughout the North. At the side of bandits? Rebels? I have suffered every day since, cast off, abandoned, tortured… and I see it was for nothing. You worship a lie. Too long I accepted it, treated you as an equal. But you’re not. You’re nothing, and at last I see it… friend.”
Jerico shook his head, at last showing despair.
“You can’t believe that,” he said quietly.
“By my actions, my proof.”
Darius swung, only to have Jerico block. The metal of his mace groaned, but held. Jerico shoved it aside, then shifted so his shield shone its light directly into his eyes. Darius fell back, swinging wildly to keep the other paladin at bay.
“Where were you when I suffered in prison?” he cried. “Where was Ashhur when Velixar took the lives of his faithful? Where were either of you as I butchered that family? He has abandoned this world, abandoned us all! Look at you, last of his kind. What lies can you offer? What hope can you possibly believe in? Tell me why… tell me why I wasn’t stopped?”
Jerico remained back, seemingly with no desire to go on the offensive. The sadness on his face only grew with every word Darius spoke, and for whatever reason, that infuriated him further. Darius stepped in and swung, crying out the name of his god. The fire on his blade consumed it fully, and a word came to his lips, its meaning unknown to him.
“Felholad!” he screamed. The very metal of his blade vanished, nothing but the burning will of his god. It struck Jerico’s shield with the sound of thunder. Bright light flared, but Darius’s fire sucked it in and defeated it. Jerico flew back several feet before hitting a tree, his head smacking against it hard enough to leave a smear of
