“What of the demons?”
“Ulamn wants to keep his casualties light. They’ll harass the archers and assault the castle directly while the bulk of the forces are at the walls.”
“Destroying this city only makes you that greater a murderer,” Jerico said, kicking aside snow to form a bare spot of earth to sit upon. When finished, he plopped down and curled tight to save his warmth.
“It furthers our conquest,” Karak’s prophet said. “And do not presume to know my games. You are an ignorant pawn, nothing more.”
“I thought I was to be your prized conquest,” Jerico said.
Velixar paused a moment, then grinned. Jerico thought he saw maggots crawling between his teeth, but just as quickly they were gone.
“Should that happen, you will be revered among the dark paladins, perhaps even lead them after Krieger. Until then, you are a worm.”
Jerico clenched his teeth to stop their chattering.
“I think I’ll die a worm,” he said, his voice hissing through his clenched teeth.
Tessanna sat next to him, not bothering to clear away the snow. It seemed her pale skin was impervious to the cold. She brushed his exposed skin with her fingertips. Her touch was ice.
“Let’s watch the show together,” she said, smiling. She tilted her head forward, letting her hair cascade down across her face. “If you want me, that is.”
Her touch turned to fire, seeping into his skin and chasing away the cold. His shivering stopped. His teeth stilled.
“Stay,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Pleased, Tessanna curled her knees to her chin and rested her head. The three watched as the distant people, like ants, swarmed about the streets. Even at their distance they could hear the soft ringing of alarms.
“Summon the lion,” Velixar rumbled.
The priests raised their arms to the sky. The clouds swelled with thunder and a red shape burst through them, that of a feline skull with teeth dripping blood. The drops fell from the sky and onto the city, dissipating like smoke as they struck the rooftops. Its mouth opened, and when it roared, the very walls of the city shook. Amid the noise, Velixar laughed.
Tessanna gently touched Jerico’s face, but when he glanced over, she pulled away.
“You’re beautiful in the snow,” she said.
Archers fired arrows from their walls as the undead army marched toward the center gate. As if signaled, the legion of war demons swooped down from the sky, heading straight for the men atop the walls. Without armor or significant weaponry other than their bows, they died quick deaths, many plummeting off either side to crumple into piles at the foot of the wall.
A great cry rolled over the snow with such force that snowflakes lifted into the air, creating a white mist across the plains.
“ Karak! ” it shouted, the collective force of the priests and their faith. The gates to the city crumpled, and a great gash in the earth stretched all the way from the priests to its center. The undead smashed against it, breaking wood and tearing metal. In less than a minute they were through, hacking and biting at the beleaguered defenders.
For a while the city held. The undead, while vicious and unshakable, were not skilled and wielded no weapons. Then a trumpet sounded from the hills and out came the dark paladins. They marched in rows of five, and they lifted their swords above their heads, letting the black fire burn toward the city. Their voices lifted in song.
“So beautiful,” Velixar said. His smile was ear to ear. The changing of his features quickened so that his nose sunk inward, his forehead stretched outward and his lips thinned, all in the span of seconds.
Jerico closed his eyes and said a prayer for those still within the city. In the middle of it he felt a hand gently touch his lips. He looked to see Tessanna kneeling beside him, her eyes wide, and her hand still against him.
“Not now,” she whispered. “Be silent.”
She slid closer, her left arm curling around his waist and her head gently resting on his shoulder.
The war demons flew to the castle as the dark paladins entered the gate. They crushed the defenders, fighting with skill and certainty of victory the city’s soldiers could not hope to match. When they broke, the war demons were already there, landing behind them in tight lines. The soldiers died, crushed between two forces while the rest of the demons flooded the castle through high, unguarded windows.
“The city is ours,” Velixar said. “Karak be praised.”
Jerico felt a sinking in his gut. He’d known the outcome, but he’d hoped anyway. It’d been in vain. The city had fallen in less than ten minutes. Against such a display, he wondered if even the supposed majesty and strength of Mordeina could stand against Karak’s army.
“Where is Qurrah?” Jerico asked. He saw Tessanna suddenly pull away from him as if stung.
“Entering with the priests,” Velixar said. “He has my orders. To your feet, paladin. It will not be long now.”
Jerico shrugged, then stood. He could not see the city well enough to know what Velixar had in mind, but he knew he was not going to like it. Undead swarmed through the streets, and the dark paladins hunted for any surviving defenders. The first of many fires spread. Feeling tired and distant, Jerico wondered just how much of the city would remain come nightfall.
Then Qurrah stepped outside the gates, the fiery whip in his hand distinct even at such distance. A large line of people exited the city in single file, heading straight at them. Half of the dark paladins traveled with them, guarding either side so they might not flee. Jerico felt his heart pound at the sight. Was Velixar to kill them all in front of him? Make him watch their return as undead? He prayed not, but he knew otherwise. Velixar turned and smiled, terribly amused.
“I know what you think,” he said. “You are almost correct, but not quite. You have become calloused to the pain of this world. I must awaken it in you.”
The survivors of Kinamn approached, some bundled warmly, others wearing only thin robes or breeches. Most sobbed or clutched one another as they walked. The dark paladins sang a song of triumph as they herded them along. When Qurrah arrived, leading the procession, he bowed to his master.
“I have done as you asked,” he said.
“As I expected,” Velixar said. He reached out his hand to Krieger, who handed over his sword. The black fire faded away, replaced by a soft rising of purple smoke. He gestured for the first of many to be brought forward.
“All I ask is that you do not lie,” Velixar said to Jerico. “I work with truth, for the truth is sufficient. Speak these words as long as they carry meaning.”
“What words?” Jerico asked, a knot in his throat.
“Ashhur loves you.”
Jerico’s lower lip trembled. He looked upon a young maiden, not yet twelve. Tears ran down her face, and she clutched her left arm to her chest. Fresh burns covered it. The paladin looked to her, tried to let her see the strength in his eyes and the conviction of his faith. She was scared, and so desperately he wished to comfort her, to save her.
“Ashhur loves you,” Jerico said to her, meaning every word.
Velixar cut her down.
Two dark paladins were there immediately, dragging away the body and pulling another to the front. The crowd stirred, their fear multiplying. Any thoughts of running died as the undead swarm returned from the city, surrounding them in a wall of dead flesh. A few still tried, and they died horribly, their bodies ripped to pieces and their organs strewn red across the white snow.
Next was a mother clutching a babe in her arms. Her hair was matted with blood.
“Ashhur loves you,” Jerico said.
Then another, this an elderly man with a short beard and dull gray eyes.
“Ashhur loves you.”
A young girl and her sister, holding hands and crying.
“Ashhur loves you.”
The blood spilled at his feet, melting the snow and spreading a red haze across the hilltop. Jerico felt his
