and the flames could not abide it. Drawing it free, he resumed his approach.
“Where’s the awesome power?”
Cyric clapped his hands together, summoning a thick wall of shadow. Darius cut through it like it was paper.
“I thought you were a god?”
Cyric’s eyes were full of fear. His strength was insufficient. He’d been challenged, and defeated. To Darius’s words, he had no counter. Power swelled across his hands, and Darius prepared for one last barrage, one last attempt to prove his might. Instead, a dark portal emerged behind the priest, swirling with stars. As he leapt through, Valessa grabbed onto him, shrieking for him to not abandon her. Together they vanished within. The portal closed, and with that, they were gone.
Darius fell to his knees and gasped for air. The moment passed, and his exhaustion returned. He could hardly believe what he’d done. Sounds of battle pierced his daze, and he looked to the road leading into the village. The soldiers still fought, and worse, the lion still roared. The paladin forced himself to a stand, clutching his greatsword with both hands. That abomination needed to be returned to the Abyss from whence it came. Blood pounding in his ears, he ran toward the enemy flank.
Most of Karak’s soldiers had died, overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. Their bodies lay strewn across the road, still in haphazard lines. Kayne, however, remained. The lion tore through their ranks, their chainmail nothing to his massive teeth and claws. The soldiers struck at his side and thrust for his underbelly, but to no avail. Kayne was too quick, too strong. A few pieces of rock had chipped off his side, and strangely enough, it appeared he bled liquid fire.
“To me, beast!” Darius cried as he came running, trying to sound braver than he felt. “Do not waste your time with pups when you could fight a wolf!”
Kayne heard his voice and turned. A deep snarl emitted from his throat.
“Traitor,” he rumbled.
To this, Darius laughed.
“I was loyal to Karak,” he said. “Karak turned on me, sent his followers to kill me, and now would have a priest sacrifice hundreds in his name. I dare say Karak’s the one who betrayed us.”
Kayne tensed, and his claws dug into the hard earth.
“You speak blasphemy and false truths,” he said. “I’ll tear your lying tongue from your head!”
The lion leapt, reaching his full speed in the blink of an eye. Darius fought his instincts to dodge aside, for Ashhur’s voice did not cry retreat in his ear, nor danger. It told him to stand. Trusting it, he thrust his greatsword to meet Kayne’s charge, putting every ounce of his strength into the attack. The lion filled Darius’s vision, throat full of fire, roar rolling against him like a physical force. But a light shone from his blade, and it grew, and grew. Kayne tried to bat the sword aside as he descended, to clear the way for his kill.
His paws sliced clean off instead. The sword remained unmoved. Mouth open, charge in full, Kayne fell upon Darius. The paladin’s blade went up to the hilt inside his jaws, the tip piercing out his back. Fire burned, and Darius felt its heat, but the light enveloped him, protected him. Rock cracked, turned molten and rolled in all directions as the creature howled and broke. In the center of the corpse, Darius stood, sword held in hand as the fire slowly dwindled away. He took a deep breath, then smiled. At his feet, the grass was burned black but for where he stood.
“Thank you,” he whispered, then lifted his sword high so all there might see its immaculate shine. Cyric had fled, the lion was dead; Ashhur had not abandoned them just yet.
24
Valessa did not know what to expect as she exited the shadow portal. She could barely think through the pain that filled her. Stumbling out, she fell to knees that became her arms, then her hands, then back again to her knees. Her form kept fighting, twisting, and she could barely remember who she once was. Her eyes opened, and she looked about. They were in rolling hills, the grass a pale yellow. Glancing behind her, she saw a river.
“The Wedge?” she asked. Was that where he’d taken her?
“It seems appropriate,” Cyric said. His voice was behind her, and with great effort, she turned to face him. Blood dripped from his hand, and more stained his robe from where the arrow remained embedded in his shoulder. His head dipped low, as if he were humbled for the first time in his life. Most frightening were his eyes: the wild, angry loathing that grew with every word he spoke.
“Is this not where we trap the monsters and other frightening creatures no longer of use to us?”
“Cyric?” Valessa asked, struggling to stand. She felt herself coming together, and pale skin started to form across the shadow that was her. “What are you doing?”
“Ashhur has stolen away my victory, but the blame is mine. Karak does not bestow mercy on those who deserve punishment.”
He lifted his hand, and from the center of his bleeding palm she saw stars swirling together amid a black void. And then the pain hit. It was different than when the light of Darius’s sword or Jerico’s shield touched her. That burned from the outside, dissolving away at her being. This was so, so much worse. She felt the very center of her soul cracking from within, her limbs shaking, her mind breaking into pieces as the very substance holding her together was taken away.
“I should have struck you down the moment I saw you,” he said as the pain increased. “The unfinished are all failures in Karak’s eyes, unworthy of a place of honor at his side. I gave you a chance, yet now we suffer. I suffer! Your burden was to kill Darius, and you did not, you worthless, faithless bitch! What you feel, that is Karak’s anger.”
His words were becoming a jumble in her mind. Her skin burst, and gray shadows bubbled to the ground. To her knees she went, clawing wildly at the earth. This was how he would repay her? She suffered in agony, denied an eternity with her god, and yet he would blame her for his own failures? Darius had defeated him as well. Where was Karak’s fury for him?
“Karak,” she whispered. “Please…Karak…save me.”
She prayed for strength, for escape from the torment, for the mad priest to suffer…but heard only laughter. Her limbs were gone, as were her legs; she was nothing but a writhing puddle of shadow struggling to retain form. Still she could see Cyric looming over her, nothing but hatred and faith. Yes, she saw it, his faith burning bright, his skin alive with ethereal fire. Karak loved him still, but why?
Then there was no love for her. Closing her eyes, she cursed her god, and fell through the world.
The rock and stone passed over her as she fell. Caverns and empty spaces flew past, but still she fell. She thought to fall forever, to see if at the very bottom she might find the Abyss her god ruled over. But instead she felt water, a great river rolling beneath the surface. This time she did not fight it, despite the horrible pain and discomfort it caused. She didn’t care for her form, didn’t care for her survival. It carried her for a moment, and then at last, she slipped from its current and into stone.
Something stopped her from falling further. The pain was ebbing, however little. Within the rock, her heart hardened, and with a tentative hand reaching upward, barely more than a tendril of smoke, she yearned for the surface. It was strange, the way it felt as she climbed, melding parts of her body with the stone to lunge higher. But she endured. Crawling, crawling, time meaningless in that darkness, the hours passed. Higher and higher. Many times she thought herself confused, and feared she crawled downward, but she fought through the disorientation.
At last, her hand burst through the grass, and like a woman emerging from a deep river, she crawled upon the surface. She didn’t know where she was, saw nothing but trees and thorn bushes in all directions, but it didn’t matter. The red star still burned in the sky, and she followed it. Hours passed as she ran, her form steadily regaining strength. Her surroundings grew familiar, and she realized she was on the correct side of the Gihon, thankfully.
On and on, to Darius.
The night was young when she found Daniel’s men camped at the outset of Willshire. Darius was among them, she knew, but they would not let her pass, not if they recognized her. Adopting the look and dress of a plain
