“Because as long as Thulos is there, they will die. He is far too strong. Perhaps if my brethren stayed, we’d have a chance, but I do not wish to make this our final battle. If Thulos wants to conquer Dezrel, he will have to bring his spears to Avlimar.”
Mira glanced back at the camps.
“If they know this, then why do they stay?”
“Because they hope to win, however little the odds. They are sacrificing everything in an attempt to hurt Thulos’s army. Theo thinks they will slaughter so many men and demons that he will be named a hero, a legend of his time. If he breaks the army, forces them to stall or retreat, then Antonil might retake Mordan and muster enough men to defeat Thulos.”
Mira thought of the men she’d seen in Veldaren, who had cheerfully given their lives to delay the attack of the orcs. It had been just a few, but they’d held a line, defiant against their certain deaths. This was the same, only grander, on a scale she’d never seen before. They would give meaning to their lives. Purpose.
“But that won’t happen,” she said, suddenly worried. “If the war god attacks, you are certain they won’t succeed?”
Ahaesarus shook his head.
“Thank you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “I think I do know which way I will go.”
She rushed to tell Lathaar.
“B etter get a move on,” Harruq said to his brother. “I don’t think too many will wait for you if you fall behind.”
Qurrah’s smile lasted only a fraction of a second before fading. They sat in what had been their combined camp. For once Qurrah had been willing to stay among the soldiers, and though he’d received many glares, none had confronted him. Progress, as the wizard would have said.
“Actually, I won’t be going.”
Harruq laughed, certain it was a joke. His brother’s face immediately cleared up that assumption.
“What? Why?”
Qurrah crossed his arms and looked away.
“You know she’s with them. This is my chance to see her.”
“Well, yeah, but…but on the other side of the battlefield. You can’t do this. You’ll get yourself killed.”
Qurrah nodded. “Perhaps.”
Harruq flung what he’d been holding to the ground and grabbed Qurrah by the front of his robe.
“No,” he said. “I just got you back. Tessanna isn’t the only one that’ll be there. Thulos, Velixar, and those winged demons, too. You’re still weak. You’re still confused. What are you hoping to do? What miracle do you think will happen to save you both?”
“The same miracle that brought me from Velixar’s side to yours while demons and angels bled in the sky.”
Harruq kicked a stone but had no reply. Qurrah stepped closer, and then awkwardly hugged him. Shocked, it took Harruq a moment to return the gesture.
“I must do this,” Qurrah said, stepping back. “So much of this is my fault. If there is any chance of finding redemption, it is here, standing against him.”
“You better live,” Harruq said, his lower lip quivering.
“Same goes for you,” Qurrah said. He smiled. “I’ll be coming after you as a hero. Try not to disappoint me. Now please, you need to hurry. I don’t think anyone will wait for you to catch up either, though you’re a bit more loved than I.”
Harruq grabbed the rest of his things, scooping them into a random pile in his arms.
“You’re a bastard,” he said.
“I know,” Qurrah said.
They shared a laugh, and it felt good despite the sadness lurking behind both their smiles.
S ince the men of Omn had no priests or paladins of Ashhur, Lathaar and Jerico led groups of them in prayer. They formed small circles, six or seven at a time, and prayed for strength, guidance, and the will to conquer fear. Mira walked upon the scene and stayed back, feeling like a trespasser. Men and women came and went, yet she lurked on the outskirts, willing to wait. At last Lathaar noticed her and smiled.
“Mira!” he cried, hurrying over to her. “Just trying to get a few last prayers in before we have to leave. They’re good people, real good. This’ll be tough. Is there something you need?”
She stretched on the tips of her toes, put her hands on his shoulders, and then kissed him. He stood shocked still as the kiss lingered, until at last he put his arms around her.
“I’m staying,” she said when the kiss ended.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Thulos will kill all of these people if he comes here. Their valiant stand will mean nothing, no meaning or purpose. I can’t let that happen, not when I can change it.”
“What are you talking about? Mira, don’t…”
“Please,” she said, leaning her head against his chest. “Don’t try to stop me. I saved myself once because of you, and now the whole world suffers. If you try, if you tell me you love me, I’ll do it again. Please don’t. Let me stay. Thulos hates me, hates mother. I will give him his chance to do something about that hatred.”
Lathaar shook his head, and a thousand objections raced through his mind.
“He’ll kill you,” he said at last.
“A thousand times I’ve seen people risk their lives for others,” she said. “It is only right I do the same.”
“Please…”
“Don’t ask me,” she said. “If you love me, you won’t ask me.”
He kissed her, held her close.
“I won’t ask you,” he whispered into her ear. “And I do love you. So much, Mira. If there’s any other way, you come back to me. Do you understand? You come back.”
She was crying when she pulled away from his arms, and she wiped away the tears with her fingertips.
“Goodbye, Michael,” she said, using the name she’d first learned from him deep in the Stonewood Forest, when she’d been a scared girl and he was a paladin of lost faith. A twirl of her fingers and she vanished, a spell stealing her away, far away, to where she could cry and no one would see her tears. In his mind, Lathaar felt her presence linger, and the ache nearly crushed him.
“Damn it,” he said. He looked back to Jerico leading the prayers, and suddenly he felt like he had more pressing matters to attend. The thought of kneeling down in worship seemed unbearable now. Not with Mira going to her death. Not with him forced to let her.
“Damn it all to the Abyss.”
Q urrah did his best to get out of the way after informing Harruq of his plans. He’d fled to the small nearby forest, hoping for privacy amid the trees. By no means was he looking forward to enduring without his brother, but he saw no other way. His time of isolation did not last long, for an angel flew low and landed. The half-orc recognized him as their high priest.
“Come to offer me a prayer for good luck?” Qurrah asked, a bitter smile crossing his face.
“No,” Azariah said. “I come bearing gifts, instead. Harruq told me of your decision. I find your choice admirable.”
He gave Qurrah the bundle he held in his hands. The half-orc unwrapped it and held it up. His forehead creased as he looked back to the angel, obviously confused.
“It doesn’t seem proper that you make your stand against Velixar wearing his former robes,” said the angel. “You are no longer a servant of Karak, and you shouldn’t dress as one. We have lost many of my brethren since coming here, but only one priest, a wonderful soul whom I loved dearly. I feel he would be honored for you to wear his robes.”
Qurrah didn’t know what to say. The thought of him wearing white, and not just white, a sparkling white shining with such purity…
“This isn’t me,” he said, offering it back to Azariah, who only shook his head and smiled.
“It could be, if you wished it.”
Qurrah looked down at his dark robes, remembering how he had taken them from Velixar after Dieredon had temporarily defeated him and his undead. He’d felt betrayed then, determined to be stronger than his teacher. Did
