“O pen your eyes, paladin.”
Lathaar groaned and refused. Why couldn’t people let him sleep? He listened to what appeared to be a conversation, but it was a strange one, because all the voices sounded the same to him.
“We didn’t know what it was.”
“Nor could you have.”
“Will he survive?”
“The evil within it is strong. Karak held it in his own hands and blessed it.”
“The pendant… it’s the same as yours, isn’t it?”
“The mark of the most high priest, just before the gods’ war. I was Ashhur’s. This pendant here could only belong to one other.”
“Velixar.”
“Leave him alone,” Lathaar said as he heard the name. “You leave… you leave him alone.”
“Lathaar? Wake up, Lathaar, you have to fight this! Fight it!”
He dreamt of a thousand mouths filled with white teeth that shone in the dark, and all of them laughed at him, laughed and laughed as he felt total helplessness and abandonment.
Light pierced the darkness. He felt hope. The mouths ceased their laughing, and instead they wailed in anger.
F or a brief moment, Lathaar thought he had died and gone to the eternity. The walls were gold. The ceiling was marble. He was in a bed, the sheets a brilliant white. Paintings of trees and mountains decorated the room. He started as the large door opened, and in walked an angel.
“You’re awake,” the angel said. “Excellent.”
“Where am I?” Jerico asked.
“Avlimar. You’ve been here for several days under Azariah’s care.”
“What happened to me?” Lathaar asked. He tried to remember, but all he could see in his mind was fire, darkness, and teeth. The clothes on his body were wet with sweat, and as he shifted off the bed he realized his armor was gone. The floor was cold against his bare feet.
“In time,” the angel said. “But first, there are others who would like to see you.”
The angel left, and a moment later Jerico entered the room, a gigantic grin on his face. Tarlak followed, wagging his finger at him.
“No scaring us like that again,” Tarlak said. “Or so help me, I’ll make sure you don’t wake up next time.”
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jerico said, bear-hugging Lathaar. “I thought we had lost you.”
“I’m too stubborn for that,” Lathaar said. He gently pushed Jerico away, his whole body covered with aches. “And why do I feel like I was run over by a battering ram?”
“That pendant you found,” Tarlak said, plopping down in a golden chair with gigantic red cushions. “That was one doozy of a magical item. Touching it, well, that was like hopping into a volcano to see if the lava’s hot. Suffice to say, you got burned.”
Jerico vanished outside the room and reappeared with a handful of Lathaar’s armor.
“Sorry to hurry you, but you need to put that on,” Jerico said. “Otherwise we might be late for Antonil’s wedding.”
Lathaar paused and raised an eyebrow.
“Care to repeat that?” he asked.
“Antonil and Annabelle are getting married,” Tarlak said. “King and Queen, uniting Mordan and Neldar in a blessed union of political convenience. As for the honeymoon, Antonil’s leading her armies across the nation to take back Veldaren. Romantic, eh?”
“Incredibly,” Lathaar said, pulling on an undershirt. “But what about the pendant?”
“Just get dressed,” Tarlak said. “Wedding now, object of doom later.”
Jerico had wasted away the hours waiting for Lathaar to recuperate by polishing and cleaning both their armor, so when they emerged from Lathaar’s room both gleamed in the light. Tarlak frowned and covered one of his eyes with a hand.
“I’m blind!” he said.
“Quit exaggerating,” Jerico said.
“You’re awake,” said the angel that had helped care for Lathaar. “Good. Follow me. I have several of my brethren ready to fly you back down to Mordeina.”
“Lead the way,” said Tarlak.
They hurried down the hallway. Lathaar walked with his mouth hanging open, mesmerized by the golden walls, the intricately crafted candelabras, and the many paintings of Dezrel. They passed by several windows, and through the glass he saw a stretch of green grass followed by nothing but sky.
“Amazing,” Lathaar said.
“You get used to it,” Tarlak said, chuckling.
They exited two giant doors made of dark stained oak. Three angels waited for them. They bowed at their arrival.
“Welcome,” one of them said. “We are pleased by your recovery, Lathaar. All our hearts have been heavy by word of your illness.”
“And you have my thanks,” Lathaar said, bowing in return and doing his best to appear far healthier than he felt.
“Take our hands,” the angels said. “And try not to panic.”
One after another grabbed the wrists of their charge and rose into the air.
When they landed just inside the city walls, Tarlak whooped and hollered and smacked both paladins on the shoulders.
“We are never doing that again,” Jerico said as he fell to his knees and clutched the grass.
“What, you guys didn’t have fun?” Tarlak asked.
The paladins glared.
“The wedding starts soon,” one of the angels said. “You must hurry. King Antonil has prepared a place of honor for you.”
“About time I started getting some reward for all our hard work,” Tarlak said.
The wedding festival spread from the castle outward throughout the city. Lathaar shook his head as they passed by colored streamers made of cloth and rows and rows of lit candles.
“You’d think there wasn’t a war going on,” he said.
“We won,” Tarlak said, grinning at the paladin. “You think it matters the enemy’s still alive and kicking? Just endure the show. We’ll be chasing after Karak’s pets soon enough.”
Antonil and Annabelle waited atop the stairs before the castle, the hill high enough that most of the city’s inhabitants could look upon them, if not from the streets then from the rooftops of their homes. In what was a switch for the city, a priest of Ashhur, not Karak, led the procession.
“Flank the sides of the stairs,” Tarlak told the paladins. The ceremony was yet to start, and the hum of conversation was strong and constant. Tarlak slipped in beside Harruq and Aurelia, winking at the two of them.
“Nice of you to dress up,” he said to Harruq. “You even wore pants.”
“Keep it up,” Harruq said. “Another crack like that and I’ll make you bald again.”
“Play nice,” Aurelia said, jabbing both with her elbows.
“Did Lathaar make it through all right?” Harruq asked.
Tarlak gestured to where Lathaar and Jerico stood opposite of each other at the foot of the stairs.
“Looks like it,” he said. “Roughed him up pretty bad, but he survived. Let’s hope the same for Antonil. The queen may be old, but I think she can give him a good run.”
“Tarlak!” Aurelia shouted as loud as she dared. Tarlak winced, fully expecting a spell to turn him into a lizard. None came.
“Once this is over,” the elf said, crossing her arms. “You are in deep trouble.”
“Yes, mother,” Tarlak said. Again he winced. No polymorph spell.
Harruq took Aurelia’s hand in his and held her closer as trumpets blared, signaling the start of the wedding.
