Night of Wolves (24 page)

The soldiers crashed into the back ranks of the wolves, who clearly lacked any leadership. Keeping tight battle lines, the humans waded through them, pressing toward the house. Jerico took up his shield and joined in. The wolf-men had already suffered tremendous casualties, and against the reinforcements, however few, they were unprepared. Jerico heard the soldiers singing as they fought, and he sang along. His mace struck once, twice, bringing down a wolf-man, and then his shield led him on, smashing aside two more to link up with the soldiers.

“What miracle brought you here?” he asked as the wolf-men surrounded them, forming a loose perimeter that was unable to punch through their shields.

“If it is a miracle, it’s a damn poor one,” shouted the older man. “Because all you got was me, paladin.”

“I’ll gladly take it,” Jerico laughed. With him in the lead, he broke the wolf’s line, using his shield to fend off two attackers hoping to bury him with their weight. The way to the house clear, they rushed in, cutting down a few stragglers trying to flee. Inside, he found Darius, who saluted with his gore-coated blade. It seemed even the dark fire was struggling to burn away all the blood.

“Friends of yours?” Darius asked him, gesturing to the soldiers.

“Friends of mine,” Gregory said, stepping past. “Robert, you old bastard!”

The older man hugged him, then gestured about.

“An interesting fortress.”

“It did its job,” said Daniel, emerging from one of the rooms. He walked with a limp, and blood covered his left side, but he looked like he’d live another twenty years easy. “Why in blazes are you here?”

Robert looked back to his men, who had formed a wedge and begun chasing after the wolf-men, who had taken flight outside.

“Looks like we’ll miss the rest of the fun,” he said. “Good. Tired enough just making my way here. The young can go do the chasing.”

Jerico leaned against the wall and, finally able to relax, he felt a massive weight leave his shoulders. They’d lived. Somehow, someway, they’d lived.

“What brought you here?” Gregory asked.

“Believe it or not, King Baedan sent us a few more recruits. I kept ’em for myself, but figured I’d escort some of my more veteran men down to Tower Violet. I planned to keep going, pay respects to the paladins at the Citadel for aiding us, but then we ran across some traders two days back. Claimed wolf-men assaulted their boat when they tried sailing south past Durham. We rode the river all night and day to reach you, and by the looks of it, we weren’t that terribly needed. Goddamn, Daniel, I swear we walked through the town on the bodies of wolves!”

“The King sent us men?” Daniel asked when the story was told. “Truly?”

Sir Robert laughed, and he winked at Jerico.

“Aye, he did. So maybe there is a miracle in all this, eh, paladin?”

“Come,” Darius said, hefting his sword onto his shoulder. “Let’s take final count of all this mess.”

He exited, and Jerico followed.

“Good to see you survived,” Jerico said.

“I’m glad I did, too. Had to crash in through a window. Thank Karak the wolves softened it up for me first.”

Jerico laughed and elbowed the dark paladin. Darius grinned.

“Fine. Glad to see you lived as well. You got that monster, I take it?”

“He fled,” said Jerico, a bit of his smile fading. “And he made it inside the tavern. So many…”

They stopped in the center of the town, which appeared to be the spot of a great slaughter given how many corpses lay strewn about, all of them wolf-men. Someone called out Darius’s name, and they both turned to see Pheus approaching. Jerico felt his stomach tighten, but he did his best to ignore it. They’d survived against terrible odds, and while many had died, many had also lived. He would bear no ill will against the troubling priest, given how much he had aided their struggle.

“Darius,” said the priest. “The battle is done, and the wolf-men beaten.”

“You state the obvious,” Darius said, but his mood soured. Jerico frowned, wondering what bothered his friend so.

“With the threat over, your last excuse is gone. Will you do what must be done?”

Darius approached the priest, and he leaned close as if to whisper an answer, but Pheus pushed him back.

“No secrets,” he said. “No whispers, no silence. Do you have the courage, or do you not?”

“Darius?” Jerico asked, wondering what was going on, and not liking the cold feeling traveling up his neck.

“This is not what Karak wants,” Darius insisted.

“You are to tell me what Karak wants?” the priest asked. He looked flabbergasted. “You, a child in armor, a weakling in our god’s eyes, would tell me his will? Step aside, paladin. You shame your name, and all your brethren, with such cowardice.”

Eyes downcast, Darius stepped back. Pheus glared at Jerico, and shadows danced around his fingers, swelling with power. Reluctantly Jerico lifted his shield, his fingers wrapping about the mace clipped to his belt.

“What nonsense is this?” he asked, wishing for any other explanation.

“Your friends are dead, paladin of Ashhur. Your kind will soon be a fading memory from this world. Go to the Abyss with my blessing.”

Darius’s sword slashed out, resting against the pale flesh of Pheus’s throat.

“No,” said the dark paladin.

The priest’s whole body trembled with rage.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Darius shook his head. He still looked troubled, but a change had come over him. He stood tall, and his words were firm, proud.

“You are not the will of our god. Because of Jerico, these people survived. I refuse to believe Karak would honor such bravery with death and betrayal. The wolf-men represent the chaos of this world, not him. Speak another word of that spell, and I will silence you forever.”

“You would threaten a priest of Karak? You would betray your own order?”

“I betray no one, Pheus. Go on your way.”

Pheus’s eyes flickered between them. Decision made, he relaxed his arms, and the shadows faded away from his hands.

“The Stronghold will hear of this,” he said.

“I know.”

“They will not look kindly upon you.”

Darius sighed.

“I know.”

The priest shook the dust from his sandals, turned, and walked west. Darius watched him go as Jerico stood there, confused beyond all measure on how to feel. His friend saw this and sighed, finally tearing his gaze away from the retreating priest.

“We must talk,” he said.

“After them,” Jerico said, pointing to where the many families were exiting Hangfield’s, seeking friends and loved ones from the other two places they’d defended. “There’s a lot of grief, a lot of death. Let us perform our role.”

Darius stabbed his sword into the dirt.

“So be it.”

W
hen the prayers were done, and every possible word of consolation had passed from Jerico’s lips, he retreated beyond the center of town and built a fire. He knew its light would guide Darius there, and sure enough, the paladin arrived not long after.

“Two thirds dead,” Darius said, shaking his head as he sat. “Some victory.”

“They’ll rebuild,” Jerico said. “Remarry. Have children, make friends. Those that survived have a whole life ahead of them.”

“Don’t tell them that. Right now they dwell in the loss. Some may dwell forever.”

Jerico nodded, knowing how right he was. An uncomfortable silence stretched over them. The dark paladin sat on the other side of the fire, and the two stared into the flickering flames.

“With the Citadel’s fall, my brethren and the priests have declared war on the paladins of Ashhur,” he said at last.

“For what reason?” Jerico asked.

“Is one needed? You know we oppose one another. Centuries ago, Karak and Ashhur warred. It appears it has begun anew.”

Jerico felt a pang in his heart as he thought of his friends, and of that terrible image of the Citadel crumbling before an army of the dead. Were they Karak’s army? Was that the truth of it?

“Pheus wanted you to kill me,” Jerico said.

“I figured that was obvious.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Also obvious.”

Jerico smiled despite his exhaustion.

“I owe you my life, Darius. But I guess that, too, is obvious?”

Darius muttered something, then tossed a twig onto the fire.

“What now?” Jerico asked.

“You have to leave. Pheus will return, and he won’t come back alone. He’s been spreading word all along the river of our newly begun war, and what news he has is not good. Jerico…you may very well be the last of your kind.”

“No,” Jerico said, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe it. It just wasn’t possible.

“If not now, then soon. How many of your brethren were at the Citadel when it fell? The few scattered about are young, inexperienced. They’ll be hunted down with the full might of Karak. Who can survive that? Our presence is in every nation, felt in every kingdom hall. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.”

Jerico felt panic racing through his veins, and he tried to stop it. It couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be the last. Others would survive, others would fight back…

“Where should I go?” he asked.

“I’d say find safety with your priests, probably the Sanctuary, but that is a long journey south. I don’t know if you will make it. Too many will be watching those roads.”

“Then what?” Jerico asked. He kicked at the fire, scattering its flame. As it sputtered and died, Darius did his best to offer hope.

“The land north of here is wild, full of bandits. Perhaps there you can hide.”

He shook his head. A paladin, hiding? It didn’t seem right. It seemed opposite of everything he was.

“Please,” Darius said, seeing the hesitation on his face. “I will bear the punishment of this action for the rest of my life. Do not waste it. Do not make me doubt my decision.”

It was all too much. Defeated, Jerico nodded.

“So be it,” he said. “You are a good friend, and I will honor your wishes. Until I can assure myself of safety, I will find what succor I can in the north. When shall I go?”

“Rest now, then leave in the morning,” Darius said, standing. “You must gain as much ground as you can before they come hunting for you. You’re strong, Jerico, but those who come after you will be stronger.”

Jerico stood, hugged him, then suddenly had a thought.

“A paladin named Pallos passed by here not long ago,” he said. “He might return.”

“I will warn him if I can,” Darius said. “Consider it one last gift for you.”

Jerico turned to leave, and as he did, he heard Darius call his name.

“I am sorry for this,” he said. “For the Citadel. For my fellows. This is not Karak’s desire, and I will show them.”

“Thank you,” Jerico said, glancing back. “But I fear it is, Darius. If so…what fate awaits you?”

Without waiting for an answer, he returned to the town, where he would sleep late until the morning, gather supplies, and begin his exile in the north.