T arlak waited until nightfall to move out. He thought about bringing Lathaar, but chose Harruq instead. The paladin’s sense of honor could have proved difficult.
“What the Abyss do you want?” Harruq muttered as Tarlak prodded him awake.
“Quiet,” the wizard ordered. “And don’t wake your wife.”
“Too late,” Aurelia said, stirring beside him. “Where are you taking my husband?”
“Nowhere,” Harruq grumbled. “I’m going back to bed.”
“No you’re not,” Tarlak said, kicking him. “And be quiet. I’m on orders from the king, now get your swords and let’s go.”
“I’m going with,” Aurelia said.
“You’re too conspicuous,” Tarlak argued.
“And a giant half-orc isn’t?”
Tarlak bit his lip. “Good point. All right, hurry up.”
Harruq buckled on his armor while Aurelia slipped her dress on over her flimsy nightgown.
“We’re headed for the temple,” Tarlak said when they were ready.
“Which one?” Harruq asked.
“Ashhur. Let’s go.”
They had camped between the two walls. Normally both gates were closed at night, but because of the massive amount of people, they had left the inner gate open. Four guards stood watch, torches in hand.
“Time for a nap,” Tarlak said before whispering a few words of magic. He frowned when nothing happened. “Well that’s a problem,” he said. “They must have wards against sleep spells.”
“How important is it we not be spotted?” Harruq asked.
“Very,” Tarlak said.
“You both are being stupid,” Aurelia said, drawing glares. The elf walked up to the wall, far away from the gate, and placed her hand upon it.
“Grab my hand,” she told her husband. “And you, take his.”
They both hesitated.
“Now!” she said, loud enough to startle them. They did as they were told. She whispered a spell, and as she finished they felt their bodies tingle. Without pause, she suddenly leaped straight at the wall, her body vanishing through as she were a ghost. Harruq and Tarlak followed after, reappearing on the other side.
“Simple enough,” Tarlak said. “But I could do without the insult.”
Aurelia blew him a kiss. “Forgive me, oh wise one. Now lead on.”
Through the quiet streets they weaved. Tarlak had expected at least a few people wandering about, perhaps from taverns that burned oil well into the night, but instead all was quiet and still.
“Veldaren sure had more life,” Harruq said as they walked.
“Fewer whores and drunks?” Aurelia said. “Yes, such a shame.”
“It is,” Tarlak said. He pointed down a narrow street on their right. “This way.”
The temple was a modest one. It had no grandiose pillars and statues, no huge doors or towering steeples. It looked like any other house, just larger and with the symbol of the golden mountain carved across its front. Tarlak knocked, and much to his surprise it immediately flung open. A bald priest thrust his hand forward, his holy symbol in hand. Bits of white light shone from his fingertips.
“Um, hello?” Tarlak said, raising his hands to the air in surrender. The priest scanned the three as several other priests gathered about.
“For what reason do you come to our temple so late in the night?” the priest asked.
Tarlak pulled a small symbol of the mountain from underneath his robes and let it hang from a chain around his neck. It glinted in the light of the temple.
“I’m here because I’ve been asked to be here,” the wizard said. “And I seek your wisdom on matters of utmost importance.”
The priest lowered his hand, relief washing over his face.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Our night has been long. And painful. Come in, all of you.”
They entered. The temple had only one room, and was much larger than appeared possible from the outside. Rows of pews lined before a single podium. Neatly stacked along the walls of either side were blankets and bedrolls. Hundreds of candles lit the room, methodically spaced about on chandeliers and iron lamps.
Aurelia gasped when she saw the dead man lying on the floor before the podium. His face was covered with a white cloth stained red with blood. His hands and feet were gone.
“What happened here?” Tarlak asked.
“I must first ask you, who is it that sends you?” said the priest.
“We come from Neldar,” Tarlak said. “And we cannot say who sends us. I am Tarlak Eschaton, and these are my mercenaries, Aurelia and Harruq Tun.”
The priest bowed to both. “My name is Bernard Ulath, head priest of our temple. I will accept you as friends, and respect your need for secrecy. But I do not wish to burden you with our troubles, for you bring your own to us.”
“Your troubles are our troubles,” Tarlak said. “Who is responsible?”
Bernard sighed. He walked over to the body and knelt down.
“His name was Francis,” he said. “We found him on our doorstep less than an hour ago.” He pulled the cloth from the dead man’s face. His eyes were gone. His tongue had been cut out. A large sigil was carved on his forehead, one none of them understood.
“It is an old symbol,” Bernard said. “Closely linked with Mordan heraldry, which is why you might not recognize it.”
“What does it mean?” Aurelia asked.
“Retribution,” said Bernard. “A life for a life.”
At those words, Tarlak stood up straighter and frowned.
“Oh shit,” he said. He blushed when he saw Bernard chuckling at him. “Forgive me, please. The priests of Karak did this, didn’t they?”
Bernard nodded. “We have left them be, given how they outnumber us in both size and influence. We cannot challenge them, but it appears someone has.”
“Haern, you damn fool,” Tarlak muttered. Bernard shook his head, and again Tarlak blushed. “Sorry. So, out of curiosity, what will happen if another priest of Karak is found dead?”
Bernard looked back at his brethren, numbering less than twenty.
“They will storm our temple and execute us all,” he said.
Harruq tugged Tarlak’s arm so the wizard would face him.
“You think this is Haern’s doing,” the half-orc said. “Don’t you?”
Tarlak nodded. “We need our Eschaton here, now. It looks like we might have our own quiet battle before the real war ever hits the walls.”
“I’ll stay,” Harruq said. “You two go get the others.”
“Be careful,” Aurelia said, kissing him on the cheek.
“Always am,” he said with a grin.
The two left, and Harruq waited, feeling incredibly awkward and intrusive. The priests resumed preparing the body for burial. Only Bernard stood with him, watching with a look that he could not identify.
“Your name,” Bernard said. “Harruq, wasn’t it? I thought so. I have to be careful, Ashhur’s blessed me with bones far healthier than my memory.”
“We got to take what we get,” Harruq said, trying to make conversation.
“Indeed,” Bernard said. He scratched his chin, still puzzling over something.
“I’ve seen you before,” he said. “Sometimes you are strong, and fight with angels at your side. Other times you are weak, and surrounded by the dead. I’ve seen you both save our city and destroy it. What does that mean to you?”
Harruq sighed.
“I swear,” he said. “Everyone just has to know about my brother some way or another.”
“Brother?”
“Yeah,” Harruq said. “My brother helps lead the army that destroyed Veldaren. He’s the one you see with the
