obsolescence.”
Karak’s prophet shut the door behind him with a loud thud. Jerico pushed his face to the cold stone and broke, his tears pouring down his face. He prayed for forgiveness for his doubt, but all the while he heard a nagging voice in the back of his head which told him again and again that he was alone.
3
L athaar followed the forest’s edge with aimless determination, only vaguely aware of its towering presence. Craggy, leafless branches grew tall and interlocked together, a natural gateway barring entrance into the gloomy dark within. Lathaar kept his swords sheathed, not for lack of enemies but for lack of caring. The ground was rocky and uneven with many roots breaking through the cold surface. He had hoped to remain alone; solitude was a treasure amid the thousands of displaced people of Veldaren. He was not granted his desire.
“A moping paladin,” Tarlak said, stepping out from a blue portal behind Lathaar. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
His yellow robes and hat seemed comical in the cold winter. His red beard flapped in the wind.
“I am in no mood,” said Lathaar. “Not today. Please, I need to be alone.”
“Don’t give me that,” Tarlak said. “What did you always tell me? ‘With Ashhur you are never alone?’”
“Yeah,” Lathaar said, smiling bitterly. When had he said that? While he was comfortable in Tarlak’s tower, safe and warm? “I say a lot of things.”
Tarlak sighed. They had camped for two days outside the Quellan forest, having had contact only once with the elves within. A single scout had promised to relay message of their desperate need for aid and council. Lathaar, normally a beacon of hope and strength, had sulked much of the time, turning away from any efforts to comfort. At last Mira had gone to Tarlak, begging for help, and the wizard was happy to oblige.
“I know Jerico was a friend,” Tarlak said. “And yeah, you do say a lot of things. You also say we mourn for our loss, not his. Jerico has gone to a better place. We both know that.”
“Do we?” Lathaar asked. He immediately looked to the ground, ashamed. “And of course I mourn for my loss. I have watched my brethren slaughtered, and when I am finally given hope, a friend who has also survived the struggle, that hope is torn and broken and slaughtered.”
“Pray for strength from Ashhur,” Tarlak said. “Pray to him, and…”
“And what?” Lathaar asked, cutting him off. “Hope? Cling to faith? What difference does it make if I wish upon a star or pray to Ashhur when the chance of an answer remains the same?”
“The difference is, the stars don’t love us,” Tarlak said. “Wallow in self-pity if you must. Those who love you await your return.”
The mage spun his hands and in a shimmering explosion of mist was gone. Lathaar shook his head, furious with himself. He felt similar to when the Citadel fell, sad and lost and lashing out at anything that once offered him comfort. He was foolish then, and he knew he was being foolish now.
“Forgive me, Tar,” he said, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. “Paladin or not, I’m still human.”
He heard the twang of a bow, but Ashhur offered no warning in his mind so he remained still. The arrow struck the ground by his foot, half the shaft burying into the dirt. Lathaar turned to the forest, where an elf in camouflage stood just within its border.
“Can you speak for the men of Neldar?” the elf asked in the human tongue.
“For most, yes,” Lathaar said.
“Whoever leads your rabble, tell them to prepare for an escort. They are to be unarmed, and no more than five. We will come at dawn. Is this acceptable?”
“It is,” Lathaar said.
The elf nodded, saluted with his bow, and vanished.
A n hour before the setting of the sun, the powerful leaders of the Veldaren refugees met to decide who the five would be. Antonil, former Guard Captain and newly named king, was the obvious choice. After a little prodding, Tarlak agreed to represent the Eschaton, his band of mercenaries, which had inflicted immeasurable damage against the invading army.
“I don’t want to go alone, though,” Tarlak said. “I’d prefer a friendlier, and prettier, face.” He pointedly glanced at the beautiful elf sitting beside him.
“Flattered,” Aurelia said. “But don’t hold any illusions. I will have very little sway.”
“At least we’ll have someone who speaks their tongue,” Antonil said. “I agree with Tarlak. Aurelia should go as well.”
“If we are to continue aiding you, then I go as well,” Deathmask said. He was the leader of the Ash Guild, a band of thieves that had saved hundreds from roving packs of wolf-men. “I promise to behave.”
“Lathaar,” Tarlak said, bringing everyone’s attention to the paladin. “You’ve already told the elves once you can speak for men. As one of the few here who has traveled outside of Veldaren, will you agree to go?”
Lathaar nodded. “I will.”
“That is the five,” Antonil said. “Any complaints?”
“I would prefer to go with you, my king,” Sergan said. With Antonil’s crowning he was the new leader of the human soldiers. “Who knows what treachery these elves are planning?”
“If elves are planning treachery,” Haern said, polishing his sabers as he huddled underneath his gray cloaks, “then I would prefer it be my sabers, not your axe, guarding the king.”
“Actually,” Aurelia said. “I ask that Harruq may be at my side.”
Many, especially those of the Ash Guild, gave her the strangest of looks.
“March a half-orc into an elven forest?” Deathmask asked. “You must be insane.”
Harruq, who had remained silent through much of the deliberation, had to agree.
“They’ve not exactly taken a liking to me before,” Harruq said. “I don’t want to ruin anyone’s chances for aid.”
“Ashhur knows we need it,” Lathaar muttered.
“Aurelia, care to explain yourself?” Antonil asked.
The elf only shook her head. “I will not enter without Harruq at my side. If you wish me to go, he goes as well.”
“Is it that important to you?” Tarlak asked. She turned to him, and her look made it clear it was. “So be it. I’ll toss my vote in for the big lug. We need a brute to ruin delicate diplomatic matters, otherwise it just isn’t a party.”
“Achieving delicacy through brute idiocy,” Deathmask said, standing from his seat beside the fire. “I wonder if the unpredictable reputation your Eschaton carry with them fails to describe your nature.”
“I always dreamed of having the people of Veldaren think us insane,” Tarlak said. “Alas, we saved too many lives and captured too many of your ilk to earn the title.”
“Enough,” Antonil said. “If Harruq is to go, one of us must not.”
“I’m going,” Deathmask said. “As long as you desire the aid of my guild, that is.”
“I’m certainly not leaving you unattended, Deathmask,” Tarlak said. “I’d hate for you to melt the face off some elven diplomat.”
“I will stay behind,” Lathaar said. “My heart is not in such matters. It will do me better to remain among the people.”
“So be it,” Antonil said. “Meet here again as the sun sets, and hold your tongues far better than you do now. Is that clear?”
“Of course,” Deathmask said, bowing. He and his guild turned and left, Antonil and his guards following suit. The Eschaton remained by the fire, Tarlak crossing his arms and shaking his head.
“For how crazy-headed he is, you’d think he’d learn to roll with the situation,” Tarlak muttered.
“What is with that guy?” Harruq asked. “I’ve never heard of him and his odd little buddies.”
“The Ash Guild,” Haern said, running his fingers through his hair. “Possibly the most dangerous combination of intelligence and power I’ve ever seen, no offense Tar.”
“Some taken,” Tarlak said.
