The Old Ways

13

They stayed at the Williams’ home for three days, letting Sandra fully recover. Jerico repaid their kindness as best he could by working in their fields. Truth be told, he enjoyed the simple work, knowing that in planting a few seeds and yanking out some weeds he wasn’t making a mistake. He had no decisions to make. No lives to endanger.

By the third night, Sandra could walk without a limp, and she’d clearly grown restless remaining indoors. The air was fairly warm, and Jerico sat with her on their porch, looking at the stars.

“Feel like I’m constantly in the way,” Sandra said, leaning her head back and sighing. “They’re good people, but I’ll be happy to leave.”

Jerico chuckled.

“Well, that answers the question I was going to ask.”

She glanced his way, raised an eyebrow.

“Which was what? If I wanted to stay with them?”

Jerico shrugged.

“It’s a good life, calm, even if it is a bit meager. Cobb says he could find you a husband without too much trouble.”

The way her eyes bugged out, Jerico realized he’d made a mistake, though he’d be damned to know what it was.

“Is that what you think I want?”

“You wanted a life away from your brother. Well, this is one, and Cobb has offered.”

Sandra crossed her arms and sighed.

“You’re ready to leave, aren’t you?”

Jerico stared at the sky instead of meeting her gaze. Only a few clouds dotted the horizon, and they made the expanse of stars look that much larger.

“I must. Arthur needs my help.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Jerico knew he could not lie, but what was he to say when the answer was both yes and no?

“Part of me does,” he said. “But what I do…and with the dark paladins hunting me…you’ll never be safe, Sandra. Not ever. I’m not sure you’re ready for that life. And I know for certain you don’t deserve it.”

They fell silent. Inwardly, Jerico berated himself for broaching the subject so poorly.

“You said part of you,” Sandra said, breaking the silence. “That means part of you wants me with you. Why?”

Jerico ran a hand through his hair. Battling wolves and dark paladins was easier. And made more sense.

“I enjoy your company,” he said. “I feel happier around you.”

“I barely know you, Jerico. What we have…I’m not sure it’s what you think it is.”

Jerico shifted, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“Then consider me a dreamer, as well as someone willing to find out. But I can’t see you hurt again. I’ve lost nearly everyone dear to me. My friends, my teachers, they’re all gone. Even Darius rushes to his death at the towers. I can’t go back to Durham, -the closest place I’ve had to a home-for fear of Karak’s paladins finding me there. I’ll forever be on the run, forever alone. Except for you, and because of me, you nearly died.”

“So for fear of losing me…you’d rather give me up willingly to a plain life, and then never see me again?”

He shot her a look.

“You make it sound so stupid.”

“Maybe because it is?”

He laughed.

“Then I’m getting good at doing stupid things. Perhaps that’s why I’ve survived where others have fallen. It’s always the idiot that lasts the longest.”

Sandra shifted over so their legs touched, then wrapped her arm around him and laid her head against his shoulder.

“You’re not an idiot.”

“Sure about that?”

She kissed his cheek.

“Absolutely. So what do we do now?”

He gestured northwest.

“Assuming the situation remains unchanged, Arthur’s still besieged at the Castle of Caves. Other than myself and your brother, no one is coming to help him.”

“Do you think you can really accomplish anything on your own, Jerico?”

“No,” he said, smiling at her. “In fact, I expect to do little more than die while trying to get inside.”

“Then why do we go?”

“Because I should. Because I think that’s where Ashhur wants me to go. And because I can’t let what happened to Stonahm go unpunished. Not after what they did to Beth…”

She ran a hand lovingly across his face, her touch like lightning.

“Well,” she said. “It’s a fool’s errand then. Good thing that’s what you do best.”

“You’re the one traveling with a fool. What does that make you?”

She kissed his lips.

“Figure it out,” she said before going inside.

D arius was torn between apprehension and relief when he finally reached the Gihon River. His journey was almost over, and he would obtain an answer to his dilemma. Either they’d rescind the bounty, or remove his head. Obviously Darius preferred one over the other, but he had no intention of spending the rest of his life as an outlaw. If they decided to kill him, then so be it. They’d only perform the execution Jerico had stayed.

He set up camp by the riverside. Night fell as Darius waited for a boat patrol to pass. When the stars reached their fullest, he felt an itch in the back of his mind. He shifted and pointed his sword toward the tree line. Valessa stepped out, the smile on her face doing nothing to diminish the madness in her eyes.

“Where is it you go?” she asked as she paced before him. Darius kept ready in case she attacked. A shiver ran through him as she passed through the trees. He was haunted by a phantom, but her daggers were so very real.

“If I tell you, it’d ruin the surprise.”

“You know you’ll make a mistake eventually. Ashhur cannot protect you forever.”

The paladin shrugged.

“Doing fine so far. Course, I’m not eager to wait forever. Strike at me, Valessa. Let’s have another go. Or would you rather skulk and hide until I die with gray hair on my head? What will you then tell Karak when you return to the fires of the Abyss? That you thought your revenge best served when I was so feeble I couldn’t lift my sword? At least you sent Grick to your god. I’m sure he’ll be a very impressive sacrifice…”

Darius thought he’d finally goaded her into another fight, but then he heard the sound of men from the water. Glancing back, he saw torches burning in the hands of four men. They’d seen the light of his campfire, so far from civilization, and were crying out in greeting.

“You won’t be safe with them,” she said as the boat drifted closer to shore. “They’ll put you in chains, without that damn sword of yours. Then I’ll have all the time in the world, Darius. All the time I need to make you suffer for what you’ve done to me.”

She fled back into the darkness of the forest.

“You flung yourself against my blade,” he said sighing. “You, not me.”

He walked to the water’s edge and waved to the four men.

“Well met,” he said, his voice carrying. “I hoped I might come across one of your boats. Which tower do you hail from?”

“Tower Silver,” said the leader of the four, extending his torch so its light reached Darius. Tower Silver was the closest tower to the Blood Tower, which meant Darius would not have to travel far for his meeting with Sir Robert. He wasn’t sure if this made him happier, or more nervous.

As the light shone upon him, the four men suddenly tensed.

“I see you are a paladin,” said the leader. “But of what god? Things have not gone kindly between us and Karak lately.”

“Ashhur,” Darius said, wondering what business with Karak they referred to. He took a deep breath, pushing that aside in his mind. This was it. “But I have not always been. My name is Darius, and I once hailed from the Stronghold.”

Silence filled the air, broken at last when one of the four looked to the others and muttered.

“Oh shit.”

“I did not come here to fight,” he said, jamming his sword into the soft earth before him. “Only to speak with Sir Robert Godley, so that I might tell my story, and have him remove the bounty placed upon my life.”

“Begging your pardon, Darius,” said their leader, “But there is no bounty for your life, not anymore. It’s only for your capture, not execution. Robert changed it a few weeks back.”

Darius grunted. Well, that was a pleasant surprise, though he dared not let himself feel hopeful. If it was still for capture, that meant they wanted to interrogate him, or even worse, send him to the Stronghold. Their torture rooms were the last place he wanted to be.

“Well,” said Darius, “consider me captured.”

The boat beached before him, and he offered his sword. The men held their weapons drawn, and they looked at one another.

“Climb on board,” said the leader as he accepted the blade. “But don’t get too eager about talking to Robert just yet. A lot’s happened at the Blood Tower, and I think it best Daniel be the one to explain it.”

Darius stepped into the boat, and he accepted a seat at its center. They pushed off, and one by one the men sheathed their weapons. With poles and paddles, they traveled upriver, toward the tower. Darius looked back many times, always for a glimpse of Valessa. He saw her once, standing at the water, watching. Then no more.

Hours later, they reached the tower. Once it might have been impressive, a great cylinder overlooking the savage lands beyond the river. But now he saw the disrepair, the moss growing on the stone, and the cracks across its foundations. Windows that might have given killing room to archers were instead boarded up to hold in heat for the winter. Of all the towers, it was the only one built across the Gihon, within the Vile Wedge. This had been when their cavalry numbered in the hundreds, and their lightning rides across the Wedge had been legendary. Now Darius hardly saw a single horse.

“Time hasn’t been kind to the Silver,” Darius remarked.

“Ain’t nothing the wilderness is kind to,” said a soldier. “Least of all those trying to keep order.”

Two men at the docks threw them ropes. Once they were looped about the boat’s front they pulled them in. Darius was led out first.

“Who’s he?” asked one of the men on the dock.

“A guest,” said the patrol leader. “Where’s Daniel?”

The soldier jerked a thumb behind him to the tower.

“He’s asleep in his room. Where else would he be?”

“Then go wake him. And don’t ask me why, or how important it is. That’s an order, now go.”

The leader turned back to Darius.

“We have a small dungeon, fit for only a man or two. I plan on taking you there, where no one else but Daniel will know you’ve arrived. Will you come peacefully?”

Darius chuckled.

“Lead on. Just take care of my sword, will you?”

At the western side of the tower, dug into the earth like a cellar, was their dungeon. Darius stepped inside as the soldier locked him in. The only light came between the bars of the slender window in the door. The walls were cold stone, and he could touch every side from where he stood in the center. Man or two? No kidding. He shuddered to think of sharing such a small space with another.

Of course, such tight walls meant little to Valessa. Without his sword, he had nothing to fend her off, no light to burn her shadowed flesh. He could only hope and pray she did not show until after his business with Daniel was done. Time wore on, and though the night was deep, Darius had no desire to sleep. At last he heard a commotion on the other side of the door, and then it opened. Holding his hand to block the torchlight hurting his eyes, Darius smiled and stood.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, bowing. “I’m Darius, who once hailed from the Stronghold.”

“Where do you hail from now?” asked the man. He was slender, but carried the scars of battle, and his eyes sparkled with wary intelligence.

“If the Citadel still stood, it might be from there,” Darius said. “But for now, I guess I am without home or country.”

The man leaned against the door and crossed his arms.

“I’m Daniel Coldmine, lieutenant for Sir Robert Godley. Do you remember me, Darius?”

Darius lowered his hand, his eyes finally adjusting. He better saw Daniel’s face, and then nodded.

“You helped us fight the wolf-men at Durham.”

“I did. Robert and I pushed our men night and day to reach you in time, to save the life of that little town. Yet all that’s left now is ruin and graves. Tell me why, Darius. Why would you turn on those you once protected?”

Darius saw that Daniel held a knife, barely concealed between his arms. This was it, Darius realized. No court. No appearance before Robert. Looking into Daniel’s eyes, he knew the man could not care less for the bounty. Either he gave Daniel a worthy answer, or kissed his life goodbye.

“I was a fool,” Darius said softly. “I was desperate, and afraid. I feared I had lived my entire life as a lie to Karak, and then a prophet came to me, offering proof. Offering meaning. He brought me back to Durham, and demanded they kneel in faith to Karak, or perish. I was to execute all who refused.”

Daniel shifted his arms. The blade glinted in the torchlight.

“Did you?”

Darius rubbed at his eyes as the horrible memories came back.

“No,” he said. “I could not. I don’t know who lived, who died, but ask them if you must. Ask Jeremy Hangfield. Ask Jacob Wheatley. I begged them to run. The prophet would return, and I couldn’t stop him. At the time, I thought no one could…”

He shook his head.

“I see the anger in your eyes, and I will not deny it. Please, before you act, tell me how many survived. Let me go to eternity, be it fire or gold, knowing at least that.”

Daniel remained silent for a very long time.

“Little over a hundred,” he said at last. “And they’ve told me, same as you, that you begged them to run. That doesn’t make you innocent, Darius. A boy who sets a house aflame, then yells for those inside to flee the fire, still deserves his lashes.”

He moved to close the door, then stopped.

“That prophet,” he asked. “Did anyone ever stop him?”

“I did,” Darius said. He knew he should feel proud, but strangely did not. “I cut off his damn head.”

Again Daniel fell silent. He was working something out, Darius could tell, but what?

“Things have changed since the battle at the Green Gulch,” Daniel said, leaning against the door. “Two priests of Karak arrived at the Blood Tower, demanding that we hand you over to them. They want the North to worship their god forever. One of them, a pissant named Cyric, led a revolt against us. He sacrificed his own men to bring about strange creatures made of fire, and hurled arrows of shadow from his palms. Few of us escaped, and I don’t know the fate of those we left behind.”

Daniel struck the door with his fist.

“You say you killed this prophet,” he said. “The one who many of Durham said wielded killing flame with his hands, and whose eyes shone red like the Abyss. Can you kill Cyric?”

“Release me, and I will try my best to end his threat.”

“I don’t need you to try. I need a fucking promise. Will you help me reclaim my tower, save Robert, and send that priest to the grave where he belongs?”

Darius fell to one knee and bowed his head.

“For what I have done, I’ve only begun to atone for. If Cyric wishes to continue what the prophet started, then I’ll deliver him the same fate. You have no reason to fear my blade, Daniel. Karak is my god no longer.”

“That’ll do. I’ve set up a second room for you, which should be far more accommodating than this. My guard will show you the way. Sleep well. We have much to discuss come morning if we’re to retake the tower.”