As Thulos cut Ahaesarus down, Harruq charged. Salvation and Condemnation crashed in, their blades shining white, yet leaving an afterimage of red with the swing. Thulos blocked, and this time it was his turn to be surprised.
“Who are you?” Thulos asked.
Harruq chuckled.
The war god pulled back and swung, again putting every bit of his strength behind it. Harruq flung his sister swords into position, and again they met. The sound was thunder in the temple, showering sparks. Harruq did not falter. He pressed back, stepped close, and then swung. Thulos twisted to the side, shooting out an elbow. Harruq spun to avoid it, his blades twirling above his head. When he exited the spin he was already set to block the next attack. Instead of being cut in half, he shoved Thulos’s sword aside and retreated a half step to reset his favorite stance Haern had taught him.
“Ashhur is with you,” Thulos said, sounding winded. “At last, my brother dares make his presence known.”
Harruq could also feel the presence, a soothing strength flowing through his limbs. His concentration narrowed, and it seemed all others moved slowly through time, all but Thulos. Their swords clashed, parried, and clashed again. Every counter met with block, every riposte met with a dodge. Harruq felt himself slipping into a dance, Thulos a well-familiar partner. The sparks grew, the swords shook, and the dance grew vicious. The elder magic in his swords held them together against the onslaught, blades forged by Karak, cursed by Celestia, and now made holy by Ashhur.
On went the dance. Harruq lost all sense of fear. Every movement came natural. He blocked an overhead chop, stepped closer, and then slashed with Salvation. Thulos was already twisting, as if he’d known the maneuver before he ever started it. His sword cut air, and then it was his turn to prepare the block. Thulos’s sword feinted, turned, and clashed against his prepared block. They were twins, brothers, mirrors…but Harruq could feel it slipping. Despite everything, he was mere flesh and bone, and he fought a furious god. It was minor now, he knew, as he weaved his swords in a wicked series. He was yet to score a single cut, but his blocks were coming later and later.
He could not win.
Yet he continued, pouring every bit of his strength into each swing. What more could he do? He fell deeper and deeper into the dance, fighting with a skill he’d never before possessed. His swords were a red line racing through the air, the white shimmer flaring with each strike against Thulos’s sword. His muscles were tiring. His mortal body would soon fail. He clutched his swords tighter, swung faster, but it never mattered. Every move was countered, every thought planned against ahead of time. He was dueling a mirror, and trying to out-react his own reflection.
He thought of all his friends who’d die should he fail. He thought of Ahaesarus and Judarius, bleeding out on the floor beside him. He thought of the child in Aurelia’s womb, his child, waiting to be born. It would find no future, not while the war god reigned supreme. He couldn’t fail. He couldn’t! But he couldn’t win, not locked in this dance. Thulos twisted his sword around, then thrust it straight for Harruq’s chest. He felt his arms go to block.
But this time, he ended the dance. Deep in a battle of such skill, Thulos never expected it, never even thought it possible.
Harruq leapt into the stab, let it pierce his armor and deep into his chest. And in that half-second, with his weapon held still, Harruq’s swords blazed with the might of Ashhur and cut off the war god’s head.
“Harruq!” he heard someone shout. His wife, he realized. Blood poured down his chest. He tried to breathe, but his lungs refused to cooperate. He was falling to his knees, and he could not stop. The temple turned to a blur, and those shouting grew distant. He closed his eyes, not wanting to feel the pain anymore. A voice calling his name forced them open. That sound…it was familiar, so familiar.
The land was green, the sky gold. Aullienna was rushing toward him, her hair flowing behind her in long braids.
“Daddy!” she cried, flinging her arms around him. He held her as his tears fell.
“You’re taller,” he whispered, so confused, so happy.
She pulled back and kissed his nose. She looked beautiful, her smile the most precious thing in the world.
“I’ll be waiting,” she said, hugging him once more. The golden light faded. Her arms left him. He felt himself falling again, and as he cried he felt his pain return.
He was on his back. People stood above him.
“A gift,” Azariah said, his glowing hands still pressed against his chest, healing the wound.
“Oh, Harruq!” Aurelia said, kneeling beside him. She looked ready to scold him, then flung herself into his arms. As her tears wet his neck, he clutched her with desperate strength.
“I saw her,” he whispered. “Aurry, I saw her…”
The angels at the doors gave way as Qurrah entered, Tessanna at his side. As two angels helped him stand, Azariah approached the other half-orc, a stern look across his face. The silence was thick in the temple, for the demons had fled with the death of their leader.
“Such a form is a blasphemy,” he said, the words causing Tessanna to clutch his hand tight. “But Ashhur goes now to slumber with Celestia, and I have one last gift for you as well, brother of Harruq Tun.”
Qurrah closed his eyes and bowed, accepting whatever fate he might deserve. Azariah’s hands shone brilliant, and that light passed into Qurrah’s skin. It swarmed over him, peeling away the rot, banishing the death in his flesh. It fell off like scales, revealing healthy, living skin beneath. As the last of the light vanished, Tessanna touched his face with a trembling hand.
“You’re…you’re…you,” she said, then flung her arms around him. Qurrah looked at a loss for words. Taking a careful step, and wincing against the pain, Harruq reached for his brother.
“Do I have you back again?” he asked.
“Apparently, yes,” Qurrah said, accepting his embrace.
“Look,” said Aurelia, gesturing out the door. “Dieredon’s come!”
Elves rode through the city atop winged horses, flitting through the scattered demon army and shooting them down with their bows.
“He’s late,” Harruq said, laughing despite his pain. He hugged his brother once more, holding him as the last of the demons fled Avlimar, their war god defeated, their army broken.
Epilogue
A urelia and Harruq watched the last armies of Ker march south, back toward their homes.
“Shame how much he mistrusts Antonil,” Aurelia said.
“They’ll get over it,” Harruq said, holding her hand. They stood outside the walls of the city, waiting. The rest of the Eschaton waited with them, thick packs in hand.
“We’ll march with them for a while,” Lathaar said, embracing Harruq and Aurelia. “But it is time we returned to the Citadel’s rubble and see to rebuilding it anew.”
“Not going to be cheap,” Jerico said, shooting Tarlak a wink.
“We’ll see about money once Antonil pays me back,” the wizard said, smacking both across the shoulder. “Stay safe now. I’ll make sure to visit, especially once you get a class full of snot-nosed brats to try and brainwash.”
Together the paladins trudged south, their armor shining in the light. They weren’t gone long before Dieredon landed, Sonowin’s wings blasting them with wind.
“About time,” Tarlak said, joining Dieredon atop her back. “I thought you’d left without me.”
“The Ekreissar will find it odd I ride with a human,” said the elf.
“Then they’ll really find it odd when we share the same bedroll.”
Dieredon gave him a mixed look of humor and horror. Aurelia curtseyed to them both while Harruq waved.
“Don’t be gone too long,” Harruq said.
