“Ashhur be damned,” Carden said, stirring him from his thoughts. “You were right. There is another.”
Jerico stepped beside Lathaar, and together they raised their holy armaments, their glow combining into an awesome display. Carden held his sword near his face, letting its dark fire absorb the painful glow.
“His name is Jerico,” Krieger said. “They are the last. We can eliminate their kind right here, right now.”
“We cannot draw them out,” Carden said. He turned to the orcs around them. “So we must meet them within. Orcs! Your cowardice ends now! You will charge, you will fight, and you will slaughter. Let the name of Karak sound from your lips!”
The force of his voice whipped them into a greater fervor. Krieger felt the authority in Carden’s voice and realized just how much he still had to learn and grow in his faith.
“Fight hard,” Krieger shouted, determined to fill the role he was given. “Break through the guards and you will have an entire city waiting. Pillage! Rape! Every sin, every vice, you can have it all!”
The orcs were screaming now, ready to tear apart their own kin to engage in battle. Krieger slammed his sabers together, the sparks showering around his enormous frame. As one, the dark paladins charged, the orc army hot on their heels.
“Let’s see how tough you are,” Jerico said, hurling another giant shield of light. Carden raised his sword and bellowed out the word ‘Felhelad.’ His sword became a blade of pure fire, its color darker than the night. When the shield of light approached he slashed the air, cutting it in two. A force struck the two dark paladins but they were not harmed and they were not held back.
“Ashhur be with you,” Jerico said to Lathaar as he stood to fight.
“You as well,” Lathaar replied. “Elholad!”
His swords became pure light, the counterpoint to the black fire that bore down upon them. Jerico raised his shield as Carden’s sword slammed against it. He had never felt a blow he could not withstand. He had never tried blocking a Felhelad. He screamed in pain, needing every bit of strength to hold back the sword. Anger fueled his determination, and then it was Carden’s turn to experience something he had never felt in all his long life: the holy retribution of Jerico’s shield. His Felhelad jerked back, pain stabbing his hands, shoulders, and stomach. The struggle had been mere seconds, but each one stared at his opponent with newfound respect.
Krieger bore down on Lathaar, his weapons also Felhelads.
“Did you miss me?” he shouted as his sabers connected with Lathaar’s swords. Crackling power swirled between them. Lathaar winced and pushed back.
“How’s your back?” he asked. He parried a thrust, stepped aside, and then blocked a vicious chop. Behind him soldiers of Neldar readied their shields and stepped forward. The orcs had arrived, howling bloody murder. They filled the gateway, pouring around the paladins. The formation of shields wavered. Antonil shouted and urged them on, wading deep into the river of gray, but his valiant efforts were nothing compared to the hundreds pressing in.
Jerico parried a sideswipe with his mace, whirled his weapon around, and struck Carden across the chest. He was strong, but the power from his faith was in his shield, not his weapon. The mace recoiled, the enchantments on the armor too tough for his weapon to break. The dark paladin saw this and laughed.
“Those who cannot kill will be killed,” he said, slamming his Felhelad against the glowing shield. Again they both recoiled, wounded by the exchange. Two orcs ran past Carden and leapt at Jerico, their axes swinging. Jerico blocked one, clubbed the second in the jaw, and then slammed his shield against the first. Three more moved to attack Jerico but Carden cut them down with one giant swing. Despite his lecture with Krieger, he was determined to finish off the stubborn paladin without interference. Black fire leapt around his fist, and shouting the name of Karak, he punched Jerico’s shield.
Jerico knew what Carden was doing. Several of the stronger paladins of Karak could harness their faith into a single blow that could shatter stone and fell trees. The stronger their faith, the stronger the blow. He knew Carden’s faith was immense. When the fist connected with his shield, he knew immense didn’t come close. The center of his shield bowed inward, the metal cracking and melting. His arm shook in spasms while his fingers locked open. His mouth opened in a scream that felt unending. The pain stretched beyond intolerable.
When Carden’s fist pulled back, Jerico collapsed to his knees.
“Still alive?” Carden said as he hefted his Felhelad in both hands and raised it for a killing blow. “Accept my respect as I remedy this.”
Down came the sword.
L athaar pressed the attack as the soldiers of Neldar made one last push to seal the gateway against the orcs. Krieger tensed his legs and braced against the powerful blows. He grit his teeth as his biceps throbbed under the strain. The dark paladin refused to budge when he reached the inner edge of the gateway, instead crossing both scimitars and locking Lathaar’s weapons together in their center.
“Your city is falling,” Krieger said as the veins in his neck bulged. “Your faith is a false hope to be extinguished. Karak is the true god. As you die, you will see the proof.”
Lathaar met Krieger’s stare without blinking. Human soldiers fought at his side, their coordination having beaten back the orcs to the broken gate. Screams of the wounded and dying filled his ears. As he poured his strength into his arms and swords, he saw the insanity lurking within Krieger’s eyes. All around, people were dying. Those he could aid. Those he could heal. Those he could protect with his swords.
“We don’t matter,” Lathaar said, the knowledge striking him like a hammer. He pulled back, slashed Krieger’s scimitars wide, and then rammed him with his shoulder leading. The dark paladin fell back, entangled in the horde of orcs behind him.
“Fighting to prove Ashhur’s faith is folly,” he said as Krieger slaughtered the hapless orcs that hindered his return to combat.
“Then why fight?” Krieger screamed as he slammed the hilts of his weapons together. The two interlocked when he twisted them, so that he held a long bladed staff instead of two separate scimitars. He twirled it in his hands as overwhelming rage burned in his heart. Several orcs tried to assault Lathaar, but Krieger beat them back, severing the head of one who did not react quickly enough. The paladin was his to kill!
“Thousands will die within these walls if I don’t,” Lathaar said, quiet enough to ensure the dark paladin did not hear. “That is all that matters.”
He slammed his Elholads together, the bright light blinding the orcs that stampeded into the city. The human soldiers had spread out, their tight line bulging into a semicircle that threatened to break with every passing moment. Only Lathaar stood in its center, no orc foolish enough to attack. Lathaar, however, did not care about his duel. He didn’t care about Krieger. All around were bringers of death, and he would end them. He spun, his swords cutting and slicing. Tens of orcs died as they tried to rush around him for the easier targets behind. Krieger lunged, twirling his staff as if it weighed nothing.
Lathaar batted aside his opening thrust, stepped closer, and slammed an open palm against Krieger’s chest. Ashhur’s voice was all he could hear. He didn’t know what it was he did, but when his palm touched the black metal of Krieger’s breastplate his vision turned white. Just as Carden had struck Jerico, Lathaar struck Krieger. The power hurled the dark paladin backward, through his troops of orcs and out of the city. Smoke drifted from the hole in his chestpiece. But Lathaar was not done. He sheathed his short sword and held the longer Elholad with both hands. Its blade stretched out another foot. It should have been unwieldy, but it was pure light, weighing nothing, killing everything.
A swipe to the right, and five orcs fell dead. A swipe left, and six more died. He whipped the blade around, cutting off the legs of a charging orc, and then slammed his Elholad to the ground. A shockwave of holy power lanced into the gateway, slicing through flesh and armor like butter. The orcs engaged with the humans, having lost their reinforcements, collapsed and fled. Shields pressed into the entrance, the Veldaren soldiers creating tight formations. Lathaar spun and saw the other dark paladin towering over Jerico as if he were a conquered prize.
“Jerico!” he shouted as he charged after Carden. The dark paladin was surrounded by soldiers of Neldar. The long black sword swirled around, slicing through shields and armor, but Antonil and his men did not let him rest, nor to score a killing blow upon Jerico. Time and time again he would swing his sword in a full circle, knocking away all who neared, and then try to stab the blade into Jerico’s chest. Each time Jerico lifted his shield and blocked the blow. The shield’s glow had faded, and he looked beyond exhausted, but he was stubbornly alive.
“Cowards,” Carden shouted to the men who encircled him. “Will none of you stand to fight, or will you flee like diseased dogs?”
Antonil thrust at Carden’s back, but he had been baited. Carden was ready. The enormous length of his blade
