The Shadows of Grace

12

H arruq was the first up the next morning. He kicked Tarlak in the side to wake him.

“Get up,” he growled. Tarlak muttered something unintelligible, opened a single blood-shot eye, and then saw the half-orc.

“Oh yeah,” Tarlak said. “Aurelia. Right.” He got out from the blankets and stretched. “Go get Bernard and Antonil. We’ll need their clout.”

Harruq did as he was told, fetching the others. As soon as they were ready they set off for the castle.

“If your highness would allow me, I would ask I do the bulk of the talking,” Bernard said to Antonil.

“You understand what is going on far more than I,” Antonil said. “But remember, nothing is to happen to Aurelia. Even if we have to leave the city.”

The guards at the gates let them through. Inside the throne room the queen waited, her many advisors at either side. Hayden was at her right hand, his arms bandaged and wrapped tight in front of him.

“Greetings, King Copernus,” the queen said, standing at their entrance. “I welcome you, though I wish the circumstances were better.”

“We’ve come to hear the charges pressed against Aurelia Tun,” Antonil said. “And the proof of these charges.”

“Are my broken bones not proof enough?” Hayden asked.

“No,” Antonil said, glaring at him. “They’re not.”

“Aurelia has not denied striking him with her magic,” Queen Annabelle said as she slowly sat back down on her throne.

“The priests of Karak came into our tent prepared to kill us,” Bernard said. “I have ten of my brethren that can attest to this.”

“I came because someone had set fire to your temple,” Hayden said. “And when my priests tried to put it out, they were assaulted, burned, and mutilated. When we hurried to tell of you of this travesty, I was assaulted, and defended myself.”

“Why would we lie?” Bernard asked. “Why would we burn down our temple?”

“I have long told you,” Hayden said, lowering his voice and turning to the queen. “I told you of their vile tactics, their insidiousness. The elf seeks to turn us against one another, to destroy both temples so her heathen goddess can be made stronger.”

“Hold on, Aurry hasn’t done any of this,” Harruq nearly shouted.

“She burned the temple and assaulted my priests,” Hayden cried. “She attacked me on sight. With open arms we have welcomed her, and she sows chaos in return.”

“Enough,” the queen said, raising her hand. “I have heard enough. King Antonil, unless you can provide me with the name of one who might have killed these priests of Karak, I have no choice but to place guilt upon the elf.”

Harruq felt Tarlak grab his arm. He pulled away from him, but when Antonil turned, he shook his head.

“We don’t,” the king said.

“Then she is to be hung by the day’s end,” the queen said. “My heart will ache at the sight, but I will not allow lawlessness and murder into my city.”

“You can’t!” Harruq screamed.

“If you murder her, we will leave,” Antonil said. “My soldiers and my people. You may fight the coming darkness alone.”

“Wait!” Bernard shouted above the others. He looked pointedly at Hayden.

“The blame for the murders,” Bernard said. “The blame for the fire, and the blame for Hayden’s injuries; you may place it all on me.”

“You will accept responsibility?” Hayden asked, his eyes lighting up with joy.

“I will,” he said. All around the others quieted, staring at him in shock.

“What are you doing,” Tarlak whispered, as he pulled on the priest’s robe to bring him closer. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Hayden will not refuse,” Bernard whispered back, then, louder, “What is it you say to this, high priest?”

“For what reason would you burn your own temple?” the queen asked, keeping Hayden silent with a wave of her hand. “And why would you do such ghastly things to priests of Karak?”

“I offer no reason,” Bernard said. “No explanation. But I accept the guilt. Hang me in Aurelia’s stead.”

Queen Annabelle’s face narrowed into a look of displeasure. She looked to Antonil.

“Will this be acceptable to you?” she asked. “For I don’t want the people I seek to aid turning from me in anger and hurt.”

Antonil turned to Bernard, who just nodded his head.

“It is,” Antonil said. “I do not agree, and I do not approve, but I trust Bernard and Ashhur.”

“Take him,” Hayden said to the nearby guards.

“Aurelia is to be released?” Tarlak asked as the guards came and shackled the priest.

“She will remain in your camp,” Annabelle said. “Should she commit a single transgression, my dungeon will be waiting.”

King Antonil knelt as guards escorted the rest toward the door.

“I would like to speak to her majesty,” he said, glaring at the advisors. “Alone.”

“It is not wise,” Hayden whispered to the queen, who would hear none of it. With a wave of her hand they were dismissed. The throne room cleared out, with only guards on the far walls remaining.

“What is it you wish to say to me?” the queen asked, visibly relaxing with all the people gone.

“It is no warning,” Antonil said. “No threat. Take this as a message, and a heartfelt one.”

“You think the priests control me,” she said. Antonil only shook his head.

“Just know this: when the legions of dead storm your walls, and warriors with crimson wings fill the skies, you’ll hear a whisper in your ear telling you to throw open your gates and accept their bloody mercy. It is then you’ll know you executed an innocent man.”

Antonil stood, saluted, and left. The queen watched him go, her arms crossed and her mind troubled.

W ith Aurelia released, the Eschaton gathered in the Neldar camps, called together by Tarlak.

“All right everyone,” he said. “We need to make a decision, and we need to make it soon.”

“I’ve talked to several of the guards,” Lathaar said. “Bernard’s set to hang at dusk.”

“Not much time to plan,” Haern said.

“Better than you running off on your own,” Tarlak said. “We’ve got enough problems as is. We all know Bernard’s dying for something he hasn’t done. What are we to do about it?”

“Is there anything we can do?” Harruq asked. “At least, not without putting Aurry and the rest of us in danger?”

“We interfere with a hanging and we all join Bernard on the gallows,” Lathaar said.

“What if he doesn’t want to be saved?” Aurelia asked. “It does no good to save him if he will just turn himself in again.”

“And what about Antonil?” Harruq asked. “Won’t he leave if we do this?”

Tarlak swore and looked around. He had made sure Antonil was not invited to their little gathering because he knew that’s exactly what the king would do. He’d been hoping no one would mention that fact, but of course, the half-orc had a knack for ruining his plans.

“Yes,” Tarlak said. “He probably will. And if we fail, we’d all get an appointment with a rope.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Aurelia said. She did not wither under Tarlak’s glare. “We have to accept the gift we’re being given.”

“You all may do nothing,” Haern said as he tied his hair behind his head. “But I won’t.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Tarlak said.

“Try and stop me,” the assassin said. “I’m no longer an Eschaton, remember?”

“So what is it we do?” Aurelia asked as Haern walked away.

“We watch the hanging,” Tarlak said, slowly shaking his head. “And we keep Haern from interfering.”

“I think I liked being on the run more,” Harruq muttered.

“Amen,” the wizard said, glaring at Haern’s retreating figure. “Amen to that.”

L athaar told the rest to expect a loud, boisterous execution, so they were surprised when they arrived at the gallows in the far east of the city to find only a large troop of soldiers.

“What gives?” Tarlak asked as several halted them.

“Under orders of the queen,” said one. “Only those in company of King Antonil Copernus of Neldar may attend the hanging.”

“And I am he,” Antonil said, having joined the Eschaton after their meeting. “Let us pass.”

The guards bowed and let them through to the gallows. The structure was simple enough, and built directly into the inner wall surrounding the city. Two giant stones jutted outward, and across them was a single large piece of wood. Another stone stuck out from the wall fifteen feet above the ground, and a long piece of rope looped around it. On the right side someone had constructed a small staircase of wood.

“The queen’s keeping this one private,” Tarlak said as he glanced around at the guards.

“She doesn’t want a spectacle,” Antonil said. “She fears my reaction.”

“She has good sense to be frightened,” Harruq said. “Haern’s out there somewhere.”

No one else laughed.

“Night will fall in an hour,” Tarlak told the rest. “Get settled in. And keep your eyes peeled. I don’t have a good feeling about all this.”

O n the other side of the city, Haern leaped across the rooftops, a sinking feeling in his gut. He knew the rest were right about letting Bernard’s execution happen. The thought of accepting it, though, burned his insides. If an innocent man was to die that night, he planned to send plenty of guilty souls with him to the eternity.

Haern halted on the very edge of a building, his sabers drawn and his cloaks trailing. Before him was the temple of Karak, a multitude of armed men patrolling the premises. Evidently they had a hunch he was coming. He smirked. Too bad it would do them no good. A single leap and he cleared the fence, and in total silence he descended upon the first of many guards to die.

T he priests of Ashhur arrived in a solemn line, their faces covered with ash. They halted before the guards and bowed. They didn’t seem surprised when they were not allowed to pass. Instead they smiled and lifted their hearts to song. Harruq listened, curious of their resolve. They did not sing songs of mourning, but songs of hope, and of faith. It chilled his spine, and he could see the guards equally affected. All around heard of the golden eternity, of the love awaiting them, and each felt a wrongness in where they stood and in what they were to witness.

When Bernard arrived, his arms bound by rope and his face covered by a black cloth, they sang their songs all the louder.

“We should stop this,” Harruq said, feeling a sudden panic in his chest. “We need to stop this.”

“You know we shouldn’t,” Aurelia said beside him. She grabbed his hand and held it tight as he fought down wave after wave of frustration.

“Swallow it down, Har,” Tarlak said as the guards led Bernard up the stairs toward the hanging rope. “We all have our time.”

H aern slipped into the main cathedral, the only sound he made coming from the drops of blood falling from his sabers onto the stone floor. The rows of pews were empty. Four priests knelt before a statue of Karak, pleading for forgiveness. Haern ran down the aisle, his blood thirst far from sated. Guards were nothing. Even the priests were nothing. There was one he wanted, one in particular.

In a single motion he stabbed each saber through the prostrate back of a priest, yanked them free, and curled them around the throats of the remaining two. Another yank and all four fell, bleeding out like sacrifices upon the altar. Haern grabbed the statue’s arm and hoisted himself up so he could wipe blood onto the edifice’s face.

“Their blood is on you,” the assassin whispered. “As it damn well should be.”

A door to the far side cracked open, and a man holding a book in one hand and a small leather whip in the other stepped into the cathedral.

“Have you finished your absolutions?” the man asked as he looked up from his book. The first thing he saw was Haern’s boot just before it crushed his nose. He spun to the ground, crying out as he felt his arm twist and tighten behind his back. A brutal jerk, and he heard the bones of his shoulder crack. He cried out from the unbearable pain.

“Tell me,” Haern whispered into the man’s ear. “Where is Hayden?”

“F or the crime of murder, and attempted murder, Bernard Ulath, you have been sentenced to hang.”

The lone soldier atop the stone with Bernard pulled the cloth from the priest’s face so all witnessing could verify it was he who was to be hanged. This done, he replaced the cloth. On the ground, twelve soldiers grabbed the rope attached to the wood floor. Once ordered, they would pull as one, dropping Bernard between the stones.

As the noose slid around his neck, Bernard put his hand on the soldier’s arm. The soldier recoiled as if burned. The mask moved, and they could tell he was speaking. Clearly unnerved, the soldier stepped away and nodded to the twelve below.

“This is it,” Tarlak said. “At least we don’t have to deal with a cheering crowd.”

The soldiers tensed and prepared to pull. The priests of Ashhur halted their singing, and the sudden silence was heavy. Harruq clutched Aurelia’s hand tight.

“Wrong,” he whispered. “This is wrong.”

In a shout that was like thunder, the commanding soldier ordered the rope to be pulled.

H aern kicked open the door, no longer caring for stealth and subtlety. The room was small and well-furnished. Sitting in a chair before a gigantic tome, a smile on his face and a laugh in his throat, was Hayden.

“I hoped you would arrive,” he said as he stood.

“Foolish of you,” Haern said, clanging his sabers together. “You won’t die quick like the others.”

Hayden laughed. “I won’t die at all.”

Red light exploded all around him. The assassin swore, trying to activate the magic of his ring to teleport away. Instead the ring shattered, its pieces splintering into his flesh. He collapsed, and with blurred vision saw glowing runes carved into the floor. He felt every bit of his strength leaving his body, and in the back of his head he heard a soft buzzing.

“We have much to discuss, you and I,” Hayden said as he turned his chair to face Haern and sat down. “You’ve been killing my priests, haven’t you?”

“Not the only one,” Haern said, his heart leaping as he realized what the buzzing was. Deep in the runes on the floor was a spell forcing him to answer, and to answer truthfully.

“The work you’ve done to my priests has been exquisite,” Hayden said. A sick grin spread across his face. “Far better than I could have done.”

The high priest picked up a dagger that rested in the center of the tome.

“I knew you would not let Bernard die,” he continued. “At least, not die alone. You’ve been elusive, but now you’re mine. Tell me your name, heathen.”

“Haern, Watcher of Neldar, member of the Eschaton.”

“The Eschaton,” Hayden said, his eyes lighting up. “Karak has given me such a perfect gift.”

He placed the dagger on Haern’s throat, a look of pure contempt on his face.

A s the wood plank shot out from underneath Bernard, two daggers flew through the air, exploding into flame as they touched the rope. The priest fell straight down, collapsing limp as he hit the ground.

“What in the Abyss is going on here?” Tarlak asked as several more daggers came whirling in, striking soldiers in their chests and hands.

“There!” Harruq shouted, pointing along the top of the wall. Mier and Nien waved at the Eschaton, then threw a few more daggers before leaping off and out of the city.

“We have company,” Lathaar said, bringing everyone’s attention behind them, where Deathmask and Veliana pushed their way through the stunned gathering of priests. The remaining soldiers drew their weapons, but many lay on the ground, made helpless by the magical daggers that paralyzed their arms and legs.

“People of Mordeina!” Deathmask shouted, his face completely covered by a massive cloud of magically suspended ash. Only his eyes twinkled through the cloth across his face. Veliana wore a similar mask, with a single hole for her good eye. “Karak’s justice no longer rules this city. The reign of his priests is done. Now is the time for ash and char, greed and gluttony, pleasure without pain.”

A wave of his hand and a wall of fire separated him from the guards that approached. Together the two turned and slipped through the group of priests.

“Enjoy your gift,” Deathmask said to them. “And stay out of my way.”

Lathaar ran to where Bernard lay on the ground and yanked off his black hood.

“He lives,” the paladin shouted to the others.

Harruq grabbed Tarlak by the arm and spun him around.

“Haern,” the half-orc said. “We blamed Haern!”

Tarlak winced as he realized the connection Harruq had made.

“We need to find him, now,” he said.

Aurelia closed her eyes, grabbing each of their wrists as she projected her sight a mile away. “No time,” she said, suddenly snapping open her eyes. “We go now.”

A blue portal ripped open before them, and before either could react, she pulled them through, deep into the heart of Karak’s temple.

“W hy do you hate us so?” Hayden asked as he let the dagger draw a small drop of blood. “Why this intense desire for vengeance?”

“Priests of Karak murdered someone I loved,” Haern said, the buzzing in his head growing stronger. “You’re no different from them.”

“Am I?” Hayden asked. “You know nothing of me, of what I have done. I know of Veldaren, a city of thieves, whores, and drunkards. This city is clean. This city is peaceful. I have made a land of order here. What have you done but kill and maim since you arrived?”

Louder and louder, like a legion of bees inside his skull. His hand slipped inside his cloak.

“I have mourned for Delysia,” Haern said. “That is all I have done. I fear that is all I will ever do.”

Hayden knelt down and shifted the dagger lower, resting on an artery.

“Then let me help you with your fear,” he said.

Haern shifted his hands, all his weight upon them. He smiled, even as he felt the dagger slowly cutting into his skin.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he said. The buzzing in his head vanished. “And you’re a bigger fool than I hoped.”

Hayden stopped his cutting long enough to glance down and see one of the runes he’d carved with blood scratched away by a small knife Haern held. His look of contempt turned to horror. His strength returned, Haern batted away the dagger and stabbed with his own. Hayden let the dagger fly limp from his hand and instead clapped. The sound was a shockwave in the small room. Haern flew back, unable to withstand the spell.

He expected to slam into the opposite wall, but instead strong hands grabbed him and held him steady.

“Need some help here?” Harruq asked as Tarlak and Aurelia stepped in front of them, fire and ice glistening on their fingertips. Hayden hooked his hands together in prayer and bowed his head. The entire room darkened, and when their spells of fire and lances of ice tried to pierce the black, they dissipated into smoke. Hayden looked up, and it seemed the entire temple shook with his anger.

“Be gone from my house,” he said. The shadows stretched and grew all around the four Eschaton. The floor wobbled unsteadily, and the ceiling turned to darkened sky. As a sound of thunder rolled over them, they realized they were no longer within the temple, but outside.

“What the…” Harruq said before falling to his knees and vomiting.

“Impressive spell,” Tarlak said as he tried to catch his breath. “I need to remember that one.”

“We’re outside the city,” Aurelia said, the only one to have kept her stomach in check. “I think we’ll have to think twice before ever entering there again.”

The three fell silent as Haern stood, clutching his bleeding finger.

“I left my sabers inside,” he said.

“You left your brain in there as well,” Tarlak said. “What were you thinking?”

“I was doing what you should have,” Haern said. “Making Hayden pay.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know vengeance was part of Delysia’s teachings.”

“Enough!” Aurelia shouted, stepping between the two. “Just stop it.”

“We know it wasn’t you,” Harruq added. “Deathmask and his pets stopped Bernard’s execution. They were the ones killing the priests.”

Haern adjusted his cloaks, but his face, normally calm and controlled, cracked. His blue eyes sagged and drifted to the ground, while his mouth tightened.

“No,” he said. “I killed them. Deathmask only wanted to hurt them, make them fear his arrival. I ended their lives.”

Tarlak put a hand on Haern’s shoulder, but the assassin pulled away.

“I understand,” the wizard said. “Really, I do.”

“Do you?” Haern asked. “Then why is it you do nothing? Why is it we tolerate those who speak blasphemy and death? Why do we let them live when they deserving nothing, absolutely nothing?”

“Because we don’t either,” Tarlak said. “No one does. You of all people should understand that.”

Haern’s entire body rocked in denial. The blood running down his finger flicked across the grass as he let his arms sag and his dead stare shift to the wall looming behind them. When Aurelia went to put a hand on his shoulder, Tarlak stopped her. Instead Harruq hooked his arm around her waist and led her to the entrance, letting the original two Eschaton have their peace.

“This isn’t the same,” Haern said once they were gone.

“A wretched thief and murderer,” Tarlak said. “That’s what I remember.”

“It isn’t the same!” His belief was wild in his eyes, and it was not borne out of truth but desperation.

“Do you remember why Delysia first met you?” he asked. Haern’s hands curled into fists and shook at his sides.

“Yes,” he said. He fixed his stare at Tarlak’s feet, unwilling to meet his eyes. His heart, already overcome with pain, could not bear an additional strain of guilt.

“Are you sure?” Tarlak asked, his arms crossed and a side of his mouth tilted downward in a frown. “I’m not convinced.”

Haern saw flashes in his mind, of a father bleeding from a deep wound, and a child watching, just watching. Yes, he remembered.

“You’ve always been quick to condemn,” Tarlak said. “But Delysia had every reason to think you a monster. You helped kill her father and nearly killed her as well. But instead she loved you. She talked with you, reasoned and argued, and spent night after night at your side. I was mad as the Abyss at her for doing so. I was wrong then, and you’re wrong now. We carry out Ashhur’s will in all we do, and his call is to redeem, not execute!”

Haern gestured with his bleeding hand to the city behind them, smirking at its supposed greatness.

“So we let Karak have it then?” he asked. “Without a fight? Surrender control to his priests while we lick our wounds in the shadows and await our doom?”

“Don’t be dense,” Tarlak said. “You say you do this out of pain and love for Delysia. Stop doing everything she would hate. Return to camp and hide there. We need to figure out what nonsense is happening because of Bernard’s failed hanging.”

“As you wish,” Haern said. He meant it to sound more sarcastic but his heart was too weak. “Do I go an Eschaton, or as a prisoner?”

“As a friend,” the mage said. “Always as a friend.”

T arlak joined up with Harruq and Aurelia on the way to the hanging ground. He looked haggard, and his step lacked its normal spring.

“Will they try to hang Bernard again?” Harruq asked once the wizard caught up.

“I’m not sure,” Tarlak said. “But I have an idea. Just go with me, and remember, just tell the truth if anyone asks you anything.”

“Um, all right,” the half-orc said. He shrugged his shoulders as he gave Aurelia a look.

When they arrived, soldiers surrounded the area, weapons drawn. Their movements were jittery, and their eyes nervous. Several carried torches, while others glanced at the last bit of light as if it were a bad omen. When the soldiers saw their approach they ordered them to halt, a couple even raising their weapons as if expecting an attack.

“We are friends of King Antonil,” Tarlak shouted, hoping the king would hear. “And we come to offer counsel.”

One in the front recognized them from earlier and cleared the way. Inside the ring of soldiers they saw Antonil and Lathaar standing before the two giant stones. In between them sat Bernard, waiting for a decision on his fate. Mira sat above them, her feet dangling off the stone as she watched the soldiers.

“Hail and well met,” Tarlak said, grinning at the king. “So what’s transpired after we made our sudden exit?”

Antonil waited until the three were close enough to whisper before answering.

“They’ve sent for the queen,” he said. “Their law isn’t clear about what to do after a failed hanging. Besides that, I’ve cast doubt about his guilt. Deathmask made it pretty clear he was the one behind the attacks.”

“Never said he did them, though,” Tarlak said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Antonil argued. “I can use it. Let me talk to Queen Annabelle.”

Aurelia slipped between them and sat next to Bernard, who had his knees to his chest and his head leaning against the stone, his closed eyes turned to the emerging stars.

“I figure it best if I’m a small part of this,” she said to the others.

“I do not care about politics,” Bernard said to her, opening an eye to look at her and then smiling. “But whatever happens, I am still committed to helping you. Even if I have to jump headfirst off one of these stones.”

“You’re a sweetie,” Aurelia said as he closed his eye. “But let’s try to keep the dying to a minimum, shall we?”

“She’s here,” Antonil said, straightening up. The others stood and tried to look proper, except for Mira, who just crossed her legs and peered curiously at the queen’s arrival. She was flanked by twelve guards, each wielding a shield and spear. The four at the corners carried torches, and it was by their light they saw her highness. She looked tired, and her face appeared to have aged years in just hours. Harruq wondered just old she was. He had originally thought the woman in her fifties, but at the lines that creased her face and the way her hair was pulled back, thin and fading, he wondered just how off he was. She stopped and talked to a guard who had been waiting for her, listening as he explained what had happened during the execution.

“Very well,” the queen said when he had finished. “King Copernus, please, come forward so I may speak with you.”

“I am here,” Antonil said, bowing low. “What do you require of me?”

“Did you have any part in the serious transgression that transpired here?” she asked.

“Your majesty, I was merely an observer. Those that saved Bernard are members of a fallen guild of Veldaren and hold no loyalties to me.”

The queen nodded. They could see her mind racing behind her eyes.

“My guards also tell me,” she said, “that these newcomers claimed the burnings and murders as their own deeds. Do any here dispute this?”

“It certainly casts doubt on Bernard having a hand in any of it,” Tarlak dared say. The queen frowned at him but held her tongue.

“Your majesty!” a voice shouted from behind them. The guards stepped apart as Hayden came hurrying through, clutching his holy symbol that dangled round his neck. He stopped at the queen’s side and bowed. When finished he pointed straight at Tarlak and smiled.

“It is him,” Hayden said. “He harbors the murderer, a member of his Eschaton mercenaries. They came into my beloved home, killed more than twenty of my priests, and escaped with the aid of him and the elf.”

The queen’s face darkened, and it seemed she aged yet another ten years.

“Is this true?” she asked Tarlak. “Is a member of your mercenaries murdering in my city?”

The wizard chuckled a bit, just quiet enough for Harruq to hear.

“No, your majesty,” he said. “No member of my Eschaton has done what you accuse.”

“He lies!” Hayden cried.

“Enough!” the queen shouted. “I want all involved in halting Bernard’s execution arrested. I will speak with them myself. As for you,” she said, bidding Bernard to rise. The priest did as he was told, offering a slight bow with his head.

“Yes, your majesty?” he asked.

“If you are guilty of these crimes, I pardon you of them. If you are innocent of them, then I ask for your understanding and forgiveness. Your priests have little to do with the chaos flooding my city, and I will not shed your blood in a pointless display.”

“I am humbled by your grace,” Bernard said, bowing again, this time much lower. Meanwhile Hayden seemed ready to explode in anger and frustration. He moved to speak but a single glare silenced him. The queen appeared to be in no mood. Without a word, he stormed off. The queen whispered an order to her guard, and as one they returned to the castle. Most of the lingering soldiers joined them, while a few others left for their homes and families. When they were alone, Harruq smacked Tarlak in the shoulder.

“No member, huh?” he asked.

Tarlak laughed. “I told you he wasn’t one any longer. We’ll reinstate him once this has blown over. Told you, I wouldn’t lie.”

“Such deception is close to a lie,” Aurelia said.

“Yeah, well, may Ashhur forgive me,” Tarlak said with a wink. “Now let’s get our friendly priest here back to somewhere warm and safe.”

They returned to their camps, and at their arrival many of the other priests of Ashhur, haggard and exhausted, lit up with new life at sight of their teacher. They cheered and sang songs of joy and triumph. Harruq, however, had little heart for it. He and Aurelia sneaked out from the tents, and with a little magic from Aurelia, passed through the two walls and out to the surrounding fields. With a few blankets for warmth, they huddled together and stared at the stars amid the quiet.

“I was wondering,” Harruq said as she nestled her head against his chest. “What would you have done if they decided to execute you?”

Aurelia shifted a little. “Knocked a few guards around, teleported out of the city, and then waited for you and Tar to find me.”

Harruq chuckled. “Good to know. Of course, I would have gone barging into the prison where you were held, smashed a few skulls, and ended up trapped there while you escaped all easy and magically.”

“And then Tarlak would have saved your butt and together you two would have fled, finding me,” the elf said. “See, the plan still works.”

“Excuse me,” said a soft, feminine voice from their side, startling both. They glanced over and saw Mira, her arms tucked behind her as if she were a little girl approaching a stranger. Her deep black eyes kept trying to meet Harruq’s gaze, but every few seconds she flitted them down to stare at her feet.

“I’m sorry to bother both of you,” she said. “I knew you’d be out here, because Aurelia, you’re magical and I… I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

“No,” Aurelia said, standing and offering her hand. “Stay with us. What brings you out here?”

“I won’t stay long,” she said, her whole body tilting forward so her black hair could cover her face. “I have something to say to Harruq. It’s stupid, though. I don’t think it means anything.”

“Just say it, girl,” Harruq said, trying to make his gruff voice sound soft as possible. “I’ve heard stuff from Tarlak far dumber than anything you could say.”

Mira smiled. “My mother said that this world needs a sign of faith,” she said. “I think it’s you.”

Harruq raised an eyebrow. “Um… huh?”

Her smile faded. “I told you it was stupid,” she said, turning to go.

“Wait,” Aurelia said. “Ignore my idiot husband. Is that all you have to say?”

Mira crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

“No,” she said. “Mother hasn’t given up on us yet. It’s not hopeless. We can survive, we can live.” She suddenly looked up and stared at Harruq with incredible intensity, her eyes wide and her lips quivering as if her entire world depended on the half-orc’s next answer. “Do you believe that?” she asked. “I need you to believe that.”

He might have joked or laughed, but she was too serious, too intense, for him to do so. He felt his chest tighten, and he found himself uncomfortable and nervous.

“Yes,” he said. “I do believe that. I’ll die fighting to prove it.”

Mira smiled. He felt both their tensions ease.

“Good,” she said. “That’s all I needed.”

She turned, lifted her arms above her head, and then vanished in shimmering mist of shadows and smoke. Harruq stared at the grass until Aurelia nudged him with her elbow.

“Hrm?” he asked before realizing she was staring at him. “Oh, heh, that was odd, wasn’t it, Aurry?”

“I’ll say,” Aurelia said, trying to read her husband’s reaction. “Is something wrong, Harruq? You seem… not troubled, but like you’re arguing with yourself, and I would appreciate knowing why.”

“It’s nothing,” Harruq said.

“You’re lying.”

“Fine. It is something. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Aurelia nudged him again. “Wife, remember?”

Harruq sighed. “Fine. It involves Bernard. He was willing to die for you. I need to talk to him, that’s all. Thank him.”

“You’re still holding back,” Aurelia said as she laid her head against his chest. “But I’ll let you get away with it for now.”

They let their conversation slip to lesser things, and from that, fade into nothing, just quiet comfort as together they shared the night.

T he next morning Harruq wandered through the camps, but after an hour of nothing, he finally asked one of the other priests.

“I believe he went to where our temple used to be,” the priest said. “I’m not sure the reason.”

Harruq thanked him and headed into the city. The people in the streets parted ways for him, several glaring at the very sight of him. He found this mildly interesting. Was it because he was from Neldar? An Eschaton? A half-orc? Or just armed and dangerous?

A passing child was kind enough to answer for him.

“Orc bastard!” he shouted.

“You’re not even ten,” Harruq said as the kid ran away.

He continued down the main road, feeling a little better. He was used to people hating him for his half-orc blood. Hating him for his nationality, that seemed a little bizarre. A meager comfort, however. His heart kept thumping too loud in his chest, and he had to fight the urge to turn and run every other minute. For whatever reason, he was terrified of talking with Bernard. At last he turned right and headed toward the smoldering pile of rubble and ash that had been the temple of Ashhur.

Bernard walked through the debris, shifting charred pieces of wood this way and that. His robes were smeared black and gray, and even his sweaty face was covered with ash.

“Hard work to do alone,” Harruq said, stepping into the rubble. “What are you looking for?”

“We didn’t have much,” Bernard said, holding his back with his hands as he straightened up, wincing at the popping his spine made. “But we had a few precious writings. I hoped they survived, but, as you can see…”

Harruq nodded. The fire had been intense. Hardly a piece of wood remained more than a blackened husk.

“I came to thank you,” Harruq said. Bernard waved him off.

“It was nothing,” the priest said.

“It was your life,” Harruq argued.

“Again,” Bernard said, chuckling at him. “Nothing.”

“How can you say that?” Harruq asked. “How can you offer your life for someone you don’t even know?”

“Harruq, are you blind?” the priest asked.

“I can see just fine,” the half-orc grumbled, feeling patronized.

“Then look around you. You fought and bled protecting thousands of people on their journey here. You offered your life for theirs, as did soldiers, fathers, mothers… Many died, others lived. How is what I did any different?”

Harruq opened his mouth, then shut it. He realized he had no argument that wouldn’t ring false.

“I’m sorry,” Harruq said. “Guess I might be a little blind.”

“Little?” Bernard asked, laughing. “Look around a second time. Tarlak is a good man, and he has assembled good people. They all would offer their life for yours. I suspect they already have.”

Harruq pursed his lips and nodded. In combat, it seemed so simple, so obvious, that each would risk their life for the other, but when the adrenaline faded, and life was quiet…

“You look like you’re struggling with something,” Bernard said. He rubbed sweat from his brow onto his sleeve, smearing more ash across his forehead. “I’ll aid, if you’ll let me.”

“Is it ever wrong to forgive someone?” Harruq finally asked.

Bernard tilted his head and thought for a moment.

“You’ve been hurt, haven’t you?” he asked. “By someone you love. Have you already forgiven them, or still deciding if you should?”

“Already have,” Harruq said. “And it cost us dearly.”

“Then pay the cost,” Bernard said. “It is better than the alternative.”

“And what would that be?”

The priest put his hands on his hips and looked to the side.

“Think about it,” he finally said. “How many times have you been forgiven? By your wife, by Tarlak, by your friends and family? If you don’t forgive others, then why should they forgive you? All or nothing, that’s what Ashhur wants.”

“The only family I have is my brother,” Harruq said. “And he’s not one to forgive.”

“Then compare your life to his,” Bernard argued. “Is he happier? Kinder? A stronger person for it? Or is he weak and fragile, clinging to old wounds that refuse to halt their bleeding?”

Harruq didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. More and more a thought kept resurfacing, growing stronger with each passing day. He felt embarrassed, but he blurted it out.

“Karak is everything I cannot stand,” he said. “But Ashhur seems… would he accept a half-orc? My cursed blood?”

To this Bernard put a hand on Harruq’s shoulder and smiled.

“No matter your curse, your wretchedness, your anger or cowardice or malice, no matter your flaws and sins, he loves you,” Bernard said. “Give him your faith, and you will be rewarded. Deny him your faith, and he will still love you. There is nothing you can do to change that.”

Harruq nodded, his mind struggling to wrap around the words. Too simple, he thought. Far too simple.

“I need to go,” he said.

“Of course,” Bernard said, turning back to the remnants of his temple. Harruq watched him reach into the ash and scatter it about in search of something valuable. When he found nothing, he moved over a few more steps, bent down, and searched again. At that moment, the half-orc felt like the ash.