“Come,” he said, grabbing her hand without harm. “We climb higher.”
Up the stairs they went. The rooms grew narrower, the furnishings more and more sparse. At last they were at the top, and Veliana held her breath at the view. There were windows on all sides, and barely enough room for the two of them to stand. She could see for miles in all directions. It felt like the entire tower shifted and swayed with the wind, and she clutched Deathmask for a moment as her fear got the best of her. At his smirk, though, she let go.
“Here is a much better place to kill,” he said.
They stood on either side of the stairs. The first guard to emerge from below died before his head was level with the floor. The second died before he knew the first was dead. The third died when the bodies of the first two exploded in shrapnel of bone and metal. The fourth waited for more guards.
Deathmask rushed from window to window while Veliana hovered over the stairs, her clenched fists eager to deal more death.
“Veliana!” he shouted. “How scared of heights are you?”
“More than of dying,” she shouted back. A cluster of undead had climbed up the stairs, and she repeatedly punched and kicked to topple them back.
“Is that your preference of those two options?”
Veliana glared at him.
“What have you got in mind, fool?”
Deathmask laughed, and without giving her any warning, he grabbed her hand and leapt out the window. So deep was her trust, so ingrained her discipline to follow her guild leader, she did not even hesitate. Out the window she jumped, still hand in hand with the laughing Deathmask.
Dark paladins were the next to arrive, and with flabbergasted looks they glanced around and wondered where the two could have possibly gone.
W hen they landed, and Deathmask let her go, Veliana promptly turned around and slapped him.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she said.
Deathmask grinned. A large pair of bat-like wings stretched from his back to either side of the houses they were hidden between.
“You don’t like heights?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen you use that spell before,” she said, nodding to the wings.
“I never have,” he said, knowing what she was doing but going along anyway. “Normally the spell creates a pair of arms with claws to help with climbing. I made a tiny change and hoped for the best. And, as you see, we’re still alive.”
She slapped him again.
“Never risk my life on such a wild guess again,” she said.
“It was my life too, you know,” he said, stalking after. But she would hear none of it.
6
M ira stood before the dead bush, watching it as it burned. Her hands slowly danced, her fingertips glowing with magic. With every twitch the fire shrank or grew, as if it were nothing more than a manifestation of the girl’s smoldering emotions. Sadness crossed her face, and the fire shrunk, dwindled, becoming nothing but a faint hint of heat and light burning dull in the dim light of the stars.
“You all right?” a voice asked. Mira glanced back to see Lathaar approaching, his arms crossed as if he were cold.
“I’m fine,” Mira said, looking away. She closed her eyes, and with every step closer the paladin came, the fire grew deeper.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” Lathaar said, standing beside her. His arm wrapped around her waist. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned against him.
“Something’s happened,” she said. “I’m not sure what it means.”
“Something?” he asked. “That’s a little vague. What’s bothering you?”
Mira gently pushed him away, then lifted her arms to the sky. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
“My mirror,” she said. “What happened to my mirror?”
The fire roared to life, higher and higher. It shot into the sky, a pillar of flame stretching to the heavens. Lathaar gaped at the sight, and without realizing it he stepped back as if afraid of the girl controlling the tremendous power. Then, with agonizing slowness, the fire lessened.
“Do you see?” Mira asked, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. The light washed over her in the gloomy night. “This is everything. My power used to ache within me, begging to be released. Now, the elements almost laugh at me, granting me their use for only a little while. My mirror…What happened to my mirror? Has Celestia abandoned us both? Am I to be punished for her actions? Or maybe this is my fault. I should be dead, Lathaar, dead and gone and with all of Dezrel better for it.”
Lathaar’s heart pained at hearing her words. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, ashamed for having feared her presence, if only for a little while.
“You are as powerful as you are beautiful,” he told her. “Never say such a thing. I need you here with me. I need to remember why this world is so precious, so valuable. Why we fight.”
She turned from the fire and buried her face in his chest. His armor was cold. This angered her for some reason.
“Will you want me to fight with you tomorrow?” she asked.
Lathaar nodded.
“At my side. We know the demons overran Kinamn when they chased us west. How many still guard it, we don’t know. If we’re to have any hope of rest, we need to retake the castle. Within should be some supplies, and more so, we won’t have to worry about them harrying us as we flee west.”
“If we flee west,” Mira said. “Many wish to stop and fight. Our numbers will grow no larger.”
“That’s not true,” Lathaar insisted. “We have but a fraction of Mordan’s troops, and our contact with Ker is limited. Antonil is their king, and both will muster forces so great in number even Thulos will fear our might.”
Mira laughed.
“He’ll fear nothing,” she said, kissing his chin. “Not us. Not our power. We’re playing his game, and as long as it is by his rules, we will lose.”
The two fell silent. The bush burned away to ash, its heat vanishing, its light gone.
“Let’s go to bed,” he told her. “Tomorrow will be a bloody day.”
“You go,” she said. “I’ll be with you soon. I wish a moment alone.”
He kissed her forehead, then gave in to her request. Once he was gone, she looked to the stars, a prayer to Celestia on her lips.
“Tell me what is right,” she whispered. “Tell me I have done no wrong. Tell me you love me, mother. Please. That’s all I ask.”
She went to Lathaar, having heard only silence.
H arruq stood beside Antonil, the two surveying the city in the distance from their spot atop a gentle hill.
“So you want me, Tarlak and the others to go crashing in, kill a bunch of demons, and basically distract them while the angels open the gates?” he asked.
“That’s the plan, yeah,” Antonil said. “Ahaesarus seemed to think it was workable.”
“Uh huh.” Harruq scratched his chin. “Care to answer me a question? Whose banner is that flying above the towers?”
Antonil squinted, his vision nowhere as excellent as the half-orc’s.
“I can’t tell. What’s it look like?”
Harruq frowned.
“Let me see…looks like a giant axe with a bloody handle.”
“That’s the White’s family banner,” said Antonil. “They’ve been flying that one for years.”
