eternity, of the love awaiting them, and each felt a wrongness in where they stood and in what they were to witness.
When Bernard arrived, his arms bound by rope and his face covered by a black cloth, they sang their songs all the louder.
“We should stop this,” Harruq said, feeling a sudden panic in his chest. “We need to stop this.”
“You know we shouldn’t,” Aurelia said beside him. She grabbed his hand and held it tight as he fought down wave after wave of frustration.
“Swallow it down, Har,” Tarlak said as the guards led Bernard up the stairs toward the hanging rope. “We all have our time.”
H aern slipped into the main cathedral, the only sound he made coming from the drops of blood falling from his sabers onto the stone floor. The rows of pews were empty. Four priests knelt before a statue of Karak, pleading for forgiveness. Haern ran down the aisle, his blood thirst far from sated. Guards were nothing. Even the priests were nothing. There was one he wanted, one in particular.
In a single motion he stabbed each saber through the prostrate back of a priest, yanked them free, and curled them around the throats of the remaining two. Another yank and all four fell, bleeding out like sacrifices upon the altar. Haern grabbed the statue’s arm and hoisted himself up so he could wipe blood onto the edifice’s face.
“Their blood is on you,” the assassin whispered. “As it damn well should be.”
A door to the far side cracked open, and a man holding a book in one hand and a small leather whip in the other stepped into the cathedral.
“Have you finished your absolutions?” the man asked as he looked up from his book. The first thing he saw was Haern’s boot just before it crushed his nose. He spun to the ground, crying out as he felt his arm twist and tighten behind his back. A brutal jerk, and he heard the bones of his shoulder crack. He cried out from the unbearable pain.
“Tell me,” Haern whispered into the man’s ear. “Where is Hayden?”
“F or the crime of murder, and attempted murder, Bernard Ulath, you have been sentenced to hang.”
The lone soldier atop the stone with Bernard pulled the cloth from the priest’s face so all witnessing could verify it was he who was to be hanged. This done, he replaced the cloth. On the ground, twelve soldiers grabbed the rope attached to the wood floor. Once ordered, they would pull as one, dropping Bernard between the stones.
As the noose slid around his neck, Bernard put his hand on the soldier’s arm. The soldier recoiled as if burned. The mask moved, and they could tell he was speaking. Clearly unnerved, the soldier stepped away and nodded to the twelve below.
“This is it,” Tarlak said. “At least we don’t have to deal with a cheering crowd.”
The soldiers tensed and prepared to pull. The priests of Ashhur halted their singing, and the sudden silence was heavy. Harruq clutched Aurelia’s hand tight.
“Wrong,” he whispered. “This is wrong.”
In a shout that was like thunder, the commanding soldier ordered the rope to be pulled.
H aern kicked open the door, no longer caring for stealth and subtlety. The room was small and well- furnished. Sitting in a chair before a gigantic tome, a smile on his face and a laugh in his throat, was Hayden.
“I hoped you would arrive,” he said as he stood.
“Foolish of you,” Haern said, clanging his sabers together. “You won’t die quick like the others.”
Hayden laughed. “I won’t die at all.”
Red light exploded all around him. The assassin swore, trying to activate the magic of his ring to teleport away. Instead the ring shattered, its pieces splintering into his flesh. He collapsed, and with blurred vision saw glowing runes carved into the floor. He felt every bit of his strength leaving his body, and in the back of his head he heard a soft buzzing.
“We have much to discuss, you and I,” Hayden said as he turned his chair to face Haern and sat down. “You’ve been killing my priests, haven’t you?”
“Not the only one,” Haern said, his heart leaping as he realized what the buzzing was. Deep in the runes on the floor was a spell forcing him to answer, and to answer truthfully.
“The work you’ve done to my priests has been exquisite,” Hayden said. A sick grin spread across his face. “Far better than I could have done.”
The high priest picked up a dagger that rested in the center of the tome.
“I knew you would not let Bernard die,” he continued. “At least, not die alone. You’ve been elusive, but now you’re mine. Tell me your name, heathen.”
“Haern, Watcher of Neldar, member of the Eschaton.”
“The Eschaton,” Hayden said, his eyes lighting up. “Karak has given me such a perfect gift.”
He placed the dagger on Haern’s throat, a look of pure contempt on his face.
A s the wood plank shot out from underneath Bernard, two daggers flew through the air, exploding into flame as they touched the rope. The priest fell straight down, collapsing limp as he hit the ground.
“What in the Abyss is going on here?” Tarlak asked as several more daggers came whirling in, striking soldiers in their chests and hands.
“There!” Harruq shouted, pointing along the top of the wall. Mier and Nien waved at the Eschaton, then threw a few more daggers before leaping off and out of the city.
“We have company,” Lathaar said, bringing everyone’s attention behind them, where Deathmask and Veliana pushed their way through the stunned gathering of priests. The remaining soldiers drew their weapons, but many lay on the ground, made helpless by the magical daggers that paralyzed their arms and legs.
“People of Mordeina!” Deathmask shouted, his face completely covered by a massive cloud of magically suspended ash. Only his eyes twinkled through the cloth across his face. Veliana wore a similar mask, with a single hole for her good eye. “Karak’s justice no longer rules this city. The reign of his priests is done. Now is the time for ash and char, greed and gluttony, pleasure without pain.”
A wave of his hand and a wall of fire separated him from the guards that approached. Together the two turned and slipped through the group of priests.
“Enjoy your gift,” Deathmask said to them. “And stay out of my way.”
Lathaar ran to where Bernard lay on the ground and yanked off his black hood.
“He lives,” the paladin shouted to the others.
Harruq grabbed Tarlak by the arm and spun him around.
“Haern,” the half-orc said. “We blamed Haern!”
Tarlak winced as he realized the connection Harruq had made.
“We need to find him, now,” he said.
Aurelia closed her eyes, grabbing each of their wrists as she projected her sight a mile away. “No time,” she said, suddenly snapping open her eyes. “We go now.”
A blue portal ripped open before them, and before either could react, she pulled them through, deep into the heart of Karak’s temple.
“W hy do you hate us so?” Hayden asked as he let the dagger draw a small drop of blood. “Why this intense desire for vengeance?”
“Priests of Karak murdered someone I loved,” Haern said, the buzzing in his head growing stronger. “You’re no different from them.”
“Am I?” Hayden asked. “You know nothing of me, of what I have done. I know of Veldaren, a city of thieves, whores, and drunkards. This city is clean. This city is peaceful. I have made a land of order here. What have you done but kill and maim since you arrived?”
Louder and louder, like a legion of bees inside his skull. His hand slipped inside his cloak.
“I have mourned for Delysia,” Haern said. “That is all I have done. I fear that is all I will ever do.”
Hayden knelt down and shifted the dagger lower, resting on an artery.
“Then let me help you with your fear,” he said.
Haern shifted his hands, all his weight upon them. He smiled, even as he felt the dagger slowly cutting into his skin.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he said. The buzzing in his head vanished. “And you’re a bigger fool than I
