with spells of weakness and madness.
He ran through his undead and his tested, approaching the circle. The words they shouted in unison seemed familiar to him, as if from a century-old dream. Their arms were raised to the sky, and as one they shouted a single name, one that filled him with fury.
‘Melorak!’ they shouted.
Velixar pushed into the circle, but was too late. In the center was a single body, a fellow priest willingly sacrificed with a gigantic gash in his throat. Shadows swirled into him, and the grass below withered brown and died. A deep, low rumble sounded from the throats of the priests, and in one jerky movement, the body stood. There was no doubt who it was.
“I am the one whose coming was foretold,” Preston said, his features constantly shifting and his eyes glowing red. “The time of prophets is over, Velixar. In this new age, Karak has sent his king.”
He outstretched his hand, red lightning leaping from his palm straight for Velixar.
Q urrah lashed twice with his whip, forcing Harruq to stop and slap it away. Before Harruq could continue forward, Qurrah slammed his hands together. Twenty of the nearby undead exploded in a shower of rotted flesh. He pulled the bones to him, swirling around his body like making him the center of a skeletal tornado. Harruq stopped just short of its edge and slammed his swords together. Light flashed over them both, and the bones wavered in the air, their magic waning. Qurrah focused harder, but when Harruq again slammed his swords together the bones fell.
Qurrah dove as the hilts of Harruq’s swords struck where he’d been. The half-orc grabbed a clump of dirt and hurled it behind him, filling it with dark magic. When Harruq slapped it aside with one of his swords, it exploded into a barrage of darts. They pierced his armor and flesh, flooding his nerves with unending pain. He collapsed to one knee, screaming. Many of the undead approached him, their arms reaching out, but he regained his footing and smacked them away.
“What is the point of this?” Qurrah asked as his fingers danced. The rotted flesh Harruq stepped on suddenly animated, wrapping around his ankles and holding him still. “You didn’t have the strength to kill me before. Will you kill me now, brother, or is this a waste of time?”
Harruq chopped at the dead flesh with one sword, fending off attacking undead with his other.
“No waste,” he said. “And no lack of strength.”
“I see your eyes,” Qurrah said. A tested ran past him, and before he could react, Qurrah yanked out his spine with a spell and wielded it as a staff. He ignored the fanatic’s dying screams.
“You claimed me a puppet of a god,” Qurrah continued. “But you have lost yourself to Ashhur, far more than I ever served Karak.”
Harruq grinned as he cut the last of the flesh holding his ankle. He twirled Salvation and Condemnation, as if daring Qurrah to strike.
“You’re right,” Harruq said. “But I have gained so much in return. What has Karak given you?”
He swung a few times, easy blows he knew his brother could block with his staff. He poured more and more strength into his hits, and the staff shimmered with a red luminescence as the magic holding it together began to fail.
“I have Tessanna,” Qurrah said, dropping the staff and slamming his palms together. A wave of invisible force rammed into Harruq, but he plunged his swords into the ground and held firm. “I have her child. We will escape everything, and live in peace beyond the stars.”
“You had Tess before you turned to Karak,” Harruq said as he pulled his swords free. “Your child is not yet born. You cling to promises and lies.”
“You know nothing,” Qurrah shouted. He struck Harruq square in the chest with a bolt of shadow, crushing in his armor and threatening to snap his ribs. The half-orc gasped at the blow, but still held his footing.
“You always were the smart one,” Harruq said as he accepted another bolt of shadow to his chest. “Thought you were the stronger, too.”
A third bolt hit, and still his body withstood. At the fourth he crossed his swords and let it splash harmlessly against their steel.
“But that isn’t true; not anymore,” Harruq said, lunging with such speed his brother could only fall backward and throw up a desperate defense.
“T reat their hands like swords!” Jerico shouted as the waves of undead ended and a swarm of tested approached. “And don’t let them touch you!”
The tested shouted the name of their god, their voice carrying magic. The paladins felt their resolve weaken at the sound. Haern leaped back, wishing for a protection spell from Delysia, and then feeling his heart ache as he realized it would never be. Aurelia cast a bolt of lightning directly into their ranks, killing five. Lathaar and Jerico rushed forward as they arrived, slamming into the tested with sword and shield leading. Their foes wore no armor, and held little protection against their attacks. Whenever they tried to block, Lathaar’s glowing blades sliced through the bony arms and into flesh. Jerico’s shield repelled them with ease, and over it he struck again and again with his mace. They were many though, and they pushed forward with tremendous strength.
Haern weaved between them, slicing out tendons in the arms and legs of the tested. He spun his cloaks, daring those that surrounded him to try an attack, but instead they stopped.
“Karak!” they shouted, and from all sides the power was tremendous. Haern halted his cloak dance and collapsed to the ground, his arms and legs flailing despite his orders to flee.
“Haern!” Aurelia shouted, seeing him fall. She raised her arms above her head and then pulled them down. Huge chunks of earth tore free before her and rolled straight for the tested. She let out a horrified cry as Antonil’s men suddenly appeared in between them, crushing tested underneath their charge. The boulders knocked aside almost a third of his men, and those that were not killed immediately soon died to the swarming tested.
Haern heard their screams, and knew he should move, but instead he cowered, feeling paralyzed and helpless. Something punched his gut, and he screamed long and loud. A second hit his knee, shattering bone. He rolled to the ground and onto his back, and above him he saw fanatics reaching with dead hands and hate-filled eyes.
“Save him!” Aurelia shouted to the paladins. They surged ahead, pushing aside tested and undead with brutal efficiency, but they were too many, the distance, too far.
“Karak!” they shouted.
One grabbed Haern by his neck and held him high. The tested’s fingers were ice, and black marks stretched across Haern’s skin from their contact. A second struck his side. Ribs broke. Several more times they struck him, the bones in his body fracturing under the blows.
“Karak!” they shouted.
The skeletal hand clutched his neck tighter. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. Something grabbed his hip, and then his entire body shrieked in pain as two tested mashed their fists against his waist, shattering his femur.
“Karak!” they shouted.
Haern looked to the sky, and there he saw white wings stretching wide enough to blot out the sun. He knew his life had reached its end.
“Karak!” they shouted.
Sonowin slammed into the group of tested, her landing so brutal she rolled, her neigh coming out as a long shriek as one of her wings snapped. Dieredon leaped off, tucking his legs and bouncing across the ground before uncurling in a sudden, deadly barrage. He wielded his bladed bow as a staff, tearing out the throats of three nearby before kicking the face of the one who held Haern. The elf caught him as he fell, ignoring the horrible screams of pain Haern made. Sonowin rolled to her feet, shrugging off bodies. She curled her wings against her sides and came to her master. Dieredon hoisted Haern onto her back, spun, and fought the way clear.
The winged horse bolted for safety, running over any who tried to stop her. Her eyes bulged in her head, and blood ran from her nose. Haern hung limp on her back, every movement a mountain of torment. Aurelia protected their escape with her magic, striking down several with arrows of either fire or ice. She prayed to Celestia that the assassin would survive his wounds.
“Fall back!” Jerico shouted, and Lathaar obeyed. The two battled side to side, completely surrounded by tested. Karak’s name rolled over them, but their hearts were strong, their faith in Ashhur strong. Dieredon swung his bow in a wide arc, and as the tested backed away the string on his bow reappeared. He reached into his quiver
