He turned and ran further into the Sanctuary.
“Coward,” Qurrah murmured, taking out his whip.
“No,” Tessanna said. “Only a fool would stand there and let me strike at him.” She waved her hand, and at once the rest of the undead began entering the Sanctuary. “That should keep him defensive. Do you know where the spellbook is? I’d prefer not to have to kill everyone inside.”
Qurrah closed his eyes and let his mind grow attuned to the darker world. He could feel the spellbook nearby, pulsing with a black energy. As to where exactly, he did not know.
“I need to be closer,” he said. “Follow me.”
“I’m leading this dance,” Tessanna said, twirling in front of him. “So you follow me.”
Again he felt his ego bruise, but the girl just laughed at him, laughing as she danced amid the broken bones and dead bodies that littered the hallway.
6
W hen Jerico neared the fireplace, he remembered Keziel’s request.
“Book, huh?” he said, glancing about the room. He saw nothing, so he assumed it hidden. What the book could be, he didn’t know. Given the power of the two intruders, it most likely was not some mundane object.
The clacking sounds of approaching undead jarred him from his thoughts. The sharp turn into the room was his best strategic point so he sprinted for it, his shield leading. He didn’t even slow when the first undead turned the corner. His shield flared as he crushed three skeletons against the wall, their bones almost melting to its touch. Jerico spun, swinging Bonebreaker in a wide arc. It shattered the spine of the closest undead, then hooked upward to knock off the head of a second.
A swift kick and he was off the wall and back into the room with the fireplace. More undead came, but he smashed them one after another. They wielded no weapons or armor, and against the magic of his mace they could not withstand him. Bodies began to pile at his feet, and he used this to his advantage. He took a step back, and when an undead stumbled over the pile, he lunged forward and smashed it with his shield. The pile grew larger.
“Sing, song, sing a song if you have a song to sing,” he heard Tessanna call as she approached. The paladin shook his head, trying to shake the fear of her from his mind. He had fought casters before, powerful ones even. She was no different.
“But when you sing a song until its done, the song sings no more.”
Tessanna turned the corner.
Bonebreaker smashed the side of her face. Her skull cracked against the wall. The girl slumped against it, blood pouring from her nose and mouth. Her cheek was cut and mangled. Her black eyes stared at him, frozen in surprise, as a trail of blood painted the wall.
“Tessanna!” Qurrah shouted.
A whip snaked around the corner, wrapping around his wrist before bursting into flame. The metal of his gauntlets glowed red, and Jerico screamed as the fire burned his flesh. He twisted his wrist, dropped Bonebreaker, and then madly flailed at the buckles. Just as a strong tug came from the whip he flicked it free. The gauntlet flew around the corner, taken by the whip. Jerico reached for his weapon with his bare hand, but changed his mind when the whip lashed the ground beside it. Unsure, the paladin took a few steps back, his mind racing.
He looked at the girl still slumped against the wall before his pile of undead. He thought she breathed, but the wound on her head was horrendous. Her left eye was covered with blood, even the iris filled with burst veins. He could see her teeth through the tear in her flesh. Her cheekbones were a shattered mess.
“Celestia’s going to be mad at me,” he said before breaking into nervous laughter. The whole while he backed away from her body. He had his shield, and in many ways he could still use it as a weapon, but would it be enough? When Qurrah walked around the corner, and he saw the rage in the half-orc’s eyes, he knew it wouldn’t. Not even close.
“You,” Qurrah said, his entire body quivering with anger. “You dared scar her face.” He lashed his whip against Jerico’s shield. “You’re a greater fool than I imagined.”
“Never claimed to be the smart one,” the paladin said, taking another step back. There was just enough room to get some momentum before reaching the necromancer. Perhaps if he charged…
Qurrah gave him no time. A bolt of pure shadow flew from his hands, crackling with energy. Jerico braced his legs and let his shield take the blow. The power of it jarred his shoulder, and his elbow screamed in pain. Another bolt hit, then another. He had taken so many spells with his shield, and while the holy enchanted metal bore no mark, his own flesh was another matter. His entire left side turned numb as the shadow power slammed against him. He staggered back, collapsing against the wall. Behind him, the heat of a fire warmed his legs, alerting him to its presence.
“You are weak flesh and bone,” Qurrah said, lashing out with his whip. “Do you know why you still stand? Let me show you.”
Spidery words left Qurrah’s lips. A fleeting image of white mist rising from his armor graced Jerico’s eyes.
“You were blessed with strength not your own,” Qurrah said. “Do you feel it now, how strong you truly are?”
A lash of the whip knocked his shield an inch to the side, exposing his face. The whip curled back and then lashed inward, burning his already bleeding cheek. The paladin cried out, his balance fading. He tried to raise his shield, knew his life was exposed, but his arm refused to cooperate. As he collapsed before the fire, he heard the half-orc speak.
“ Hemorrhage. ”
He felt the rupture just above his wrist. Blood exploded out of it, splattering across his face and chest. Dizziness claimed his mind, that which was not occupied with his screaming. Qurrah came and stepped upon his bleeding wrist, his heel grinding into the agony.
“Listen to me, and listen carefully,” the half-orc said, his voice quiet and cruel. “You have scarred my beautiful lover. You will make amends.”
“And if I don’t?” Jerico asked in between labored breaths. Qurrah placed his knee on Jerico’s other shoulder and knelt down so his face was inches from the paladin’s.
“I will slaughter every single priest hiding in this building. It will be slow, and it will be painful. If you heal her, I will spare their lives.”
“Either way, you’ll kill me afterward,” Jerico said. “How can I trust you not to lie?”
Qurrah stood, grinding his heel in semicircles.
“You sacrifice your life in the hope to save others. Is that not how your order works? Does it matter if I follow my word, if you do all in your power to save the innocents that cower in fear of me?”
The paladin nodded, trying to ignore the horrible pain spiking up his arm. Qurrah walked to where Tessanna lay. Slowly Jerico stood, keenly aware of the black energy sparkling on Qurrah’s fingertips. Any false move and he would die.
“She is Celestia’s daughter,” Jerico said as he took an uneven step toward her. “Perhaps Ashhur won’t be too upset if I heal her.”
“Quit speaking nonsense and do your duty,” Qurrah said, though his eyes had narrowed at the mention of the elven goddess. He watched as Jerico knelt and pressed the palm of his shaking hand against the wound he himself had created.
“Daddy?” she asked, her eyes closed and her voice drowsy.
“Shush, Tess,” Qurrah said.
“You hurt me again, didn’t you daddy?”
“Ashhur, forgive me if what I ask is wrong, but give me the strength to do what must be done,” Jerico prayed. Healing light surrounded his hands, pulsing unsteadily. Tessanna moaned as it poured into her flesh. Her broken bones snapped together. Her torn skin pulled tight. She let out a gasp as dizzying waves filled her head.
