The Broken Pieces (28 page)

“Forgive us,” Redclaw whispered to the moon. “But even you will no longer have our worship. We are free. Free…”

And free they ran, to the prison made for them by man, as Redclaw bled until he died.

22

T
here were so many wounded, and with only Jerico and Darius to tend them, the day passed long and tiring. At last, when Jerico’s eyes were blurred and his head pounded hard enough to make his stomach ill, they finished. By then night was fast approaching, and the combined armies would make no march.

“You’ve done us a miracle,” said an older man who had tended the wounded while they waited for the paladins to come heal them as they lay on the bloody grass. He was the surgeon for the mercenaries traveling with Luther, and while the rest of Karak’s faithful had treated the two with disdain, the surgeon had welcomed them gladly.

“No miracles, not by my hands,” Jerico said, nearly losing his balance as he stood. “Through them, maybe.”

“Whichever way makes you feel better,” said the surgeon.

“You need to rest,” Darius said, grabbing Jerico by the arm to steady him.

“And you don’t?”

Darius grinned.

“A strong wind will blow me over, yet you look like you don’t need even that to fall on your ass.”

Jerico let out a chuckle.

“If you insist. Food does sound good right now, though…”

An hour later, after they’d drunk their fill of water and ate the salted meats Daniel’s men brought them, Jerico stripped off his armor and lay before a fire.

“Looks like Daniel’s keeping his men with the rest of the refugees as they head southwest,” Darius said, sitting across the fire from him. “We’ll be going after Cyric alone. Well, not alone of course, but not exactly in friendly company. We’ll have a nice army of mercenaries, priests, and paladins marching with us.”

“And Kaide.”

“Aye, him too. But him at least I’m not worried about killing me in my sleep.”

Jerico grunted at the word.

“Speaking of which,” he muttered.

Darius stood.

“Not quite ready to turn in,” he said, “so I’ll leave you be.”

“Much appreciated.”

Jerico listened to the gradually retreating footsteps of the paladin, and then, bathed only in the sound of the crackling fire, he tried to sleep. He could not. With a sigh, he gave up and pushed himself to his feet. All around were a hundred campfires, but he knew he wouldn’t find who he needed at them. Beyond the camps he walked, to the far west where a group of four sat around their own secret fire.

“Welcome, Jerico,” said Bellok as the paladin joined their camp.

“You look like shit,” said Adam. “Well, you always do, really. But shittier than normal.”

Jerico smiled, but was too exhausted for it to remain on his face. He looked to Kaide, who so far had kept his eyes on the fire instead of his newly arrived guest.

“A moment,” Jerico said.

The other three waited, and after a nod from their leader, they stood and departed for the greater camp. Jerico felt his heart skip as he tried to think of what to say. Honestly, he didn’t have a clue. But he knew what was bothering him, and he had to try something.

“Kaide…”

“I know what it is you want to say,” the brigand said, interrupting him. “And I have heard it all before. From you, actually. So save your breathe, return to your campfire, and get some sleep. Gods know you need it.”

“You would dismiss me so easily?”

“Would you prefer I make you leave the hard way?”

Jerico grinned at him.

“Are you so certain you could?”

Kaide gave him a look, then shook his head.

“You’re a stubborn one, I’ll give you that. It’d be easier to move mountains. More pleasant to talk to as well.”

Jerico took a seat next to him, and he thought of what to say. Strange how the greater the weight on his heart, the harder the words came. It was as if he feared he might fail at the very first word spoken.

“Luther deserves death,” he said at last. “He’s hardly the first, and he won’t be the last. But you shouldn’t be the one to kill him.”

“Fearing for my eternal soul, paladin?”

“I fear for a man I once considered a friend. Revenge is wrong. You have to know this.”

“Do you?” asked Kaide, glaring across the fire. “Strange coming from a man whose mace has taken more lives than my blades.”

“I kill in defense,” Jerico insisted. “I kill to save others, to preserve innocence. Should I strive for vengeance, then I’ve lost my way.”

“Then what of when he attacked Sandra? Would it have been right to kill him then? Why then but not now? Why is it right for your hands to be covered with blood but not mine? Nothing else matters if the end is the same.”

“I would kill to protect, to keep others alive. I fight for life, but what of you? You would kill because of vengeance, because of hatred, because…”

“Because I want her to live! Is that so hard to understand? If only I could perform the miracles your hands can, but I can’t. We both kill for life. It’s just mine’s coming way too damn late.”

Jerico’s fingers dug into the dirt as he struggled for the words.

“No,” he said. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you. I’m begging you, Kaide. I loved her, I still do. I would give anything to have acted faster, to have pulled her behind my shield. In my dreams, I sometimes do, but even then my shield breaks, and the spell hits, and I can’t do anything. I can only watch. I can…” He took a deep breath. “Kaide, you’re so close, so very close. You’re a good man, a great man. And one step farther, you’ll fall off a cliff, and all of Dezrel will see just how far down you go. Don’t honor Sandra by becoming a man she’d hate. Be the brother she loved, that she still loves.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kaide said even as tears filled his eyes. “Don’t you feed me this shit. I won’t hear of clouds and angels and loved ones watching over us. You’re wrong.”

“And if I’m not? As she looks down and watches, who does she see? Who do you want to be, Kaide? Please, let it go, let it out. I’ll shoulder the burden if I must, but don’t let it consume you like this. I see the death in your eyes, the rage in your fists. You can stop it. You still can.”

Kaide opened his fists, and he stared at them as if he’d never known they were clenched.

“Will you stop me?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet. Jerico let the question hang in the air, let it have the gravity it deserved.

“I’ll pray for you, Kaide. And I’ll be here for you. But I won’t stop you.”

“It’d be wrong to stop me.”

Jerico shook his head.

“That’s not why. I won’t stop you because I trust you. That’s all. This world is dark, and we’ll always need swords, but hatred is no such need.”

“Are you really so free of it yourself?” Kaide asked.

Jerico cast his eyes to the dirt.

“No,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Ashhur forgive me, I’m not. But I love my enemies as much as I hate them, and hate myself as much as I love my friends. Luther doesn’t deserve your hate, only your pity.”

“Pity?” asked Kaide. “You would offer your pity to such a pathetic man? His cruelty surpasses anything I’ve ever done. He’s sick, he’s mad, he’s ruined me, ruined everything. Let me hate him, Jerico. Why can’t you just let me hate him? What does it matter if I live or die trying to kill him? I must, damn it, I must.”

Jerico could see him, his strength, could see the iron breaking. It was a man wishing for death, almost begging for it.

“You insult your daughter seeking death so openly,” he said. “Go to Beth. Live. Don’t make me go to her, and tell her of her father’s death. She’ll ask me why. She’ll ask what happened, and what will I tell her then? Your rage against Luther was more important? Your love for Sandra greater than your love for…”

Kaide slugged him, his knuckles splitting his lip open across his teeth. Blood splattered, but Jerico did not react, nor move to strike back. Instead he stood there, letting the blood drip down his lips and neck.

“You bastard,” Kaide said. His face was red, and he openly wept. “Is this what you want? Do you want to break me and send me in pieces back to my daughter? Live, you say, as if it were so easy. Live, as if the world would be so kind. You know why I can’t go back to Beth? Because whenever I hold her in my arms, all I’ll feel is dread. All I’ll feel is sorrow. Every shadow will be Luther ready to take her away from me, to make me feel that same pain all over again. You think revenge will be what ruins me? I’m already ruined. I’m already broken. I’m a dead man, and Luther prevents me from coming back to life. Let me kill him. Revenge isn’t my doom. It’s my salvation.”

“You won’t find salvation with a blade through another man’s heart.”

“You won’t find it eating the flesh of another, but I did it to live. I’ve done so many terrible things to live, Jerico, and this won’t be the worst. You tell me to live, and I shall, and the way I have always lived. You have nothing to offer me.”

Slowly Jerico stood, and it felt like all of his limbs weighed a hundred stone.

“I would love you,” Jerico said. “Despite all you have done. All you will do. I would have you forgiven for it all, and sleep through the night without guilt, without nightmares. I would give you peace. Strike me again. Scream, cry, beg, I don’t care. And then go home without a splinter in your heart and without blood on your hands.”

The seconds crawled along. Jerico held his breath.

“I can’t go home. Not yet.” Kaide looked up, cutting him off when he saw Jerico was to speak. “Not while Cyric is still alive. If he’s the threat you say, you need my help. I won’t let Beth be forced to kneel before that bastard and choose slavery or death.”

“And Luther?”

Slowly Kaide let out a breath.

“I make no promises. Now leave me be.”

And so Jerico did, returning to his camp. By his fire he tried to sleep, yet the hours crawled, the stars shone, and sleep did not come.

W
arfang watched until Redclaw’s band of cowards was beyond even his excellent sight. Then he ordered his pack to rest, for tomorrow they would fight their most important battle yet. Despite his own orders, Warfang could not sleep. The power coursing through him was too new, and along with it came an excitement coupled with dread. What they had done, they had done in the shadow of their god, hidden from his eyes. What would Cyric say when he saw who now led his chosen warriors instead of Redclaw?

More importantly, would he give him the pleasure of hunting down the cowards and ripping the tendons from their bones?

And so at the edge of Cyric’s camp he waited, until just before the dawn the moon-made-flesh came walking, and his face was without emotion. Even his scent did not give away his true thoughts.

“I see my champion before me,” Cyric said, crossing his arms. “But he is not the champion I remember. Where is Redclaw? Did you kill him?”

“Redclaw was weak,” Warfang said. “He denied you, and had those who are afraid, those who are like toothless pups, flee back to the Wedge. Yes, I killed him.”

Warfang thought such words would elicit anger from the priest, but instead he remained calm. If anything, he looked curious.

“He denied me?” asked Cyric. “Do you know why?”

“Redclaw was stupid and weak. Why does it matter?”

“I asked,” Cyric said. “Therefore it matters. I would know where Redclaw failed, so I might know if I should fear the same failure from you.”

The very idea insulted Warfang, and he had to struggle to prevent it from showing.

“Redclaw lost what it meant to be wolf,” he said. “He never understood. He was strong, he was smart, but he was also fearful. To kill, to tear into life with our claws and taste blood on our tongue…that is what we are. That is what we were made for. Redclaw dreamt of kingdoms, of packs and families and cubs. He dreamt a lie. You give us power, and tell us to kill. You are the true god we have always served.”

“Are you stronger than Redclaw?”

“I have not forgotten my bloodlust. I have not lost my love of killing. I will use your power far better than Redclaw ever could, for I am who it was always meant for. Give me prey, my god, and I will serve.”