The Shadows of Grace

8

I t seemed years since Qurrah had looked upon the gods’ bridges, but there he was, standing before the simple but elegant structure spanning the Rigon River. He and Tessanna had been alone then. No army, no Velixar, no priests or gods. Just the two of them. They had been cold and hurt, the death of Aullienna still a fresh wound on both their souls, but with each other to hold, they had survived the pain.

“Would you even let me hold you now?” he wondered aloud. The rest of the army still slept, the sun having not yet banished the stars and moon. Whatever closeness he had with Tessanna was gone. Something was in the way, and he needed to figure out what. Was it something he had said or done? Was it the paladin?

“Solitude is often the best way to solve one’s problems,” Preston said, approaching from the direction of the slumbering army. “But discussing them with friends also helps.”

“I would hardly call you friend,” Qurrah said, pointedly keeping his stare locked on the bridge. “I hold better friendship with the worms beneath the soil, Preston.”

Preston chuckled, not bothered by the refusal to use his adopted name.

“You don’t like me. Fair enough. Your loyalty to Velixar is near unshakable. I understand, I really do. For years we treated a single message from him like the divine word of Karak himself.”

“I was his apprentice,” Qurrah said. “And I assure you, Karak speaks through him.”

“How do you know?” Preston asked. “He has set himself as ruler of an army that will soon crush all resistance. If he closes the portal after Mordan’s destruction, who will stop him from emerging King of all Dezrel?”

Qurrah crossed his arms and glared.

“You’re a fool if you think that is what he desires,” he said. “Why are you here?”

“The paladin,” Preston said, glancing back to the camp. “He still lives. We both know he should have bled out months ago.”

“He keeps Tessanna happy,” Qurrah said.

“I’m sure he does,” Preston said with a smirk.

“What are you implying, priest?” Qurrah asked, his hand gripping the handle of his whip.

“I have watched carefully,” Preston said. “And they are often alone. Very often. Why is it you no longer sleep at her side, Qurrah? Is it because someone else has taken your place?”

The whip lashed the ground, erupting in flame. The half-orc’s look promised death.

“You insult me with your insipid logic and blatant lies,” he said. “The maggots in the fields hear Karak’s word more clearly than you. There is more wisdom in a pile of shit. Be gone from me, or I will tear the bones from your flesh and cast them into the river.”

Preston laughed.

“Such anger,” he said. “Is it all for me?”

Qurrah watched him return to the camp. His whip burned the cold earth, charring black the remaining bits of grass. His entire insides heaved and spun. The idea of losing Tessanna to another man infuriated him. He had avoided the idea, but now it was in the open and he could not deny it. He was losing her. Just how far from him she was, he didn’t know.

He put away his whip, hoping Karak’s vengeance would soon fall upon Preston. If it didn’t, then he himself would have to bring forth punishment. First, he needed to make things right with Tessanna. He hurried back to their camp, where Tessanna huddled before a fire on the outskirts of the encampment. Jerico slept next to her. The very sight of him so close to her filled his heart with jealousy.

“Morning, lover,” she said, no emotion in her voice.

“It is time,” he said, pointing to the paladin. “He needs to be dealt with, one way or the other.”

Tessanna drew her knife and twirled its point against her finger.

“Are you telling me what to do, Qurrah?”

The half-orc snarled.

“Damn it, Tess! Why are you doing this? Why do you keep him alive?” His voice softened. “What does he offer you that I do not?”

At this, she tilted her head and stared as if perplexed. She seemed completely unaffected by his rage.

“He speaks of things I’ve never believed,” she said. “He offers things I don’t understand. But I want to break him, make him as I am. And I intend to take pleasure in the making.”

“You’ve slept with him,” Qurrah said, quieter. In the silence that followed he begged for denial, firm and sincere. But Tessanna would not give him even that.

“Does it matter if I did?” she asked. Still apathetic. Still emotionally dead. Qurrah could not take any more. He knocked the knife from her hand, grabbed her by the neck and lifted her to a stand.

“Don’t you dare treat me like this,” he said, his face inches from hers. “Not after all we’ve lost for one another. The sacrifices we’ve both made.”

There was a time she would have been excited by such a display of domination and power. But not anymore. Anger flared in her eyes, and rage replaced apathy.

“Let go of me!” she shrieked. Her hands slammed against his chest, magical strength flowing through them. He dropped her as pain spread throughout his body. He doubled over onto his knees, unable to stand. Tessanna’s whole body shook as if unable to contain her emotions.

“You’re weak now!” she screamed. “Look what Karak has done to you! Your skin sags, your hair grays, and your eyes sink like stones. You are not my Qurrah. You are a shell. Even worse, you bastard, you think it my fault. Either accept your sins or deny them. Do not bear the burden and then cast the blame to me!”

She licked her lips and pointed at Jerico, who still slumbered. She had cast a spell upon him, and knew he wouldn’t wake for another hour.

“He is but a plaything to me. He gives me comfort. I am yours forever, Qurrah. I bear your child! Why is that not enough? Why am I never enough?”

Qurrah struggled to his feet, his arms clutching his stomach as he spat black spittle.

“Forgive me for my jealousy,” he said, his raspy voice a whisper. “Forgive me for not accepting you as you are. And forgive me for letting Karak turn us into this. But do not treat me like a child. I see the way you look at him. He is a thorn between us, Tess, and he needs to be removed. Kill him, or set him free.”

He turned to go, then stopped.

“When the sun rises,” said Qurrah, “the choice will no longer be yours.”

He wandered off, coughing and clutching his chest. When he was gone Tessanna lunged for her knife, grabbed its hilt, and stabbed deep into her wrist. She cried out in pain, tears running down her face, but she still smiled. The pain helped her focus. Helped her decide. She yanked out the blade and sucked on the blood. She hated hurting so much. She hated being confused. She had to stop it. Had to end it.

Q urrah entered the large tent Krieger slept in. A snap of his fingers and Krieger’s dreams filled with gnashing teeth and vague, shapeless beings clawing at his arms. He gasped twice, then woke.

“What are you doing here?” he asked upon seeing Qurrah.

“Gather your best soldiers,” the half-orc told him. “When the first light of the sun reaches our camp, you may kill the paladin. I will not stop you, and neither will Velixar.”

“About bloody time,” Krieger said, getting out of bed and reaching for his armor.

“Indeed,” Qurrah said before slipping back out into the night.

A wave of her hand and Jerico awoke. He sat up and looked about, still groggy.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Go,” Tessanna said. “Take your shield from the carriage and leave.”

“This a trick,” Jerico asked as he stumbled to his feet.

“No trick,” she said. She tried not to watch him, but did anyway. He slipped his shield onto his back and turned to her.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Go quickly, before I decide otherwise,” she said. “We’re on the outskirts of the camp. You should be able to run several miles before any realize you are gone.”

Jerico bowed, not wanting to question his sudden good fortune. Just before he left, he turned to her and knelt. He took her bleeding wrist into his hand. She watched as he closed his eyes and prayed. Healing magic flowed into her, sealing the wound.

“You don’t need the pain,” he told her. “Nor the blood.”

She pulled her arm to her chest, fighting a sudden flare of anger. He turned to go west, but then stopped.

“The promise of Karak is emptiness,” he said. “There is no life in it. I hold little hope for your child, Tessanna, but I shall pray for you both just the same.”

He vanished into the night, running as fast as his sore legs could go. Tessanna clutched her knife and stared at her wrist. She placed its edge against her skin, but for once could not bring herself to cut. Inside her was life, she thought. So instead she put down the knife and placed both hands on her belly. Life, she thought.

Life.

Jerico ran.

He didn’t get far before he saw someone waiting for him, wearing deep black robes, their color darker than the night. He reached for his shield, determined to die fighting than return as a prisoner.

“You have no need to worry,” said the stranger, his voice a hiss. “I have one question, that is all.”

Qurrah lowered his hood, his eyes bloodshot, his tears running down both scars on his face. Jerico slowed to a walk, still holding his shield.

“Ask your question,” Jerico said. “I will answer honestly.”

“Did you sleep with her?” Qurrah asked as Jerico passed by.

“Yes,” Jerico said when they were shoulder to shoulder. He felt his shame grow anew. “But only once.”

Qurrah looked as if he’d been struck ill.

“Be gone from here,” he said. “Should I see you again, I will kill you.”

Jerico ran.

Q urrah returned as the sun was rising. Approaching from the other side of their camp were Krieger and his men, armor polished and swords drawn. Only Tessanna waited for them, standing before a dead fire.

“Qurrah!” she said, rushing to him when she saw him. He took her in his arms, shocked by how desperately she clung to him.

“You sent him away,” he said.

“I love you,” she said. “Not enough to kill him, but enough to send him away. Does that please you, Qurrah? Please, tell me it does.”

He held her tight and kissed her forehead.

“Of course,” he said, but his words were hollow.

Krieger’s dark paladins surrounded the camp. They looked but saw no sign of Jerico. Krieger stepped forward, pointing one of his swords at Qurrah.

“You promised me the paladin come the rise of the sun,” he said. “Well, the sun has come. Where is Jerico?”

“Gone,” Tessanna said. “Escaped into the night.”

Krieger slammed his swords together, letting their clang ring loud in the morning air.

“Don’t lie to me, woman,” he shouted. “You let him go! You fucked him, didn’t you? You had your fun and then let him go, all while the blood of my men stains his hands!”

The commotion stirred through the camp. Preston soon arrived, a dozen of his priests with him. Qurrah glared at their intrusion.

“To release a paladin of Ashhur so he may escape execution is a very serious crime,” Preston said. “Punishable by death.”

“We don’t live under your laws,” Qurrah said, slipping a hand into his pouch of bones at his hip.

“That’s the truth,” Krieger muttered.

“You march among us but do not count yourself subject to the laws we obey,” Preston shouted, more to the gathering crowd than to Qurrah and Tessanna. “You act as if your power gives you importance, and that power puts you above all others, above even the very word of Karak himself!”

“ I am the word of Karak!” Velixar roared. Priests scattered to give him passage as he approached. “Yet you question me with every breath you take!”

“You are the word no longer,” Preston challenged. “You have turned your back to Karak. You have insulted his laws, his priests, and his very principles. He is order, pure order, and you are nothing but an agent of chaos.”

Velixar curled his hands, and bolts of shadow flew from them, straight for Preston. He slammed an open palm to the ground. The shadows scattered as a shockwave of air and sound rolled in all directions. Qurrah lashed out with his whip, but several priests protected their appointed Melorak, using their meager magic to summon black shields.

“They are traitors to Karak,” Preston shouted. “Strike them down! Show your faith!”

Krieger’s men remained where they were, waiting for word from their leader. The dark paladin shook his head.

“Jerico should have died the very moment we laid eyes upon him,” he said.

“Show some wisdom,” Velixar said. “You know who I am, what I can do.”

“I know who you were,” Krieger said. “Kill them.”

Before they could follow the order, a giant spear landed among them, burying into the dirt. Over a hundred war demons landed, their weapons at ready. Ulamn landed beside Qurrah, and he pointed his gigantic sword at the dark paladins that surrounded them.

“I have no time for such squabbles,” he said, his voice booming. “Nor your laws and punishments. I will not be stranded here on this young, tiny world. As long as Qurrah and Velixar hold open the portal, they are under my protection. If any question this, speak now! I would hear your challenge.”

None dared speak. Ulamn turned to Velixar.

“You and your apprentice stay among my soldiers from now on. No arguments.”

Ulamn signaled, and his soldiers surrounded the three, flanking them in a protection of wing, muscle, and armor. Velixar offered one last threat before he left with the demons.

“Karak will suffer your blasphemy for only a little longer,” he said. “And I pray that your death will be by my hand.”

Ulamn led them away. Preston hurried to Krieger’s side.

“We must move fast,” he said. “The paladin cannot be far. Send out your men!”

“Get away from me,” Krieger said, brushing the high priest aside. “I know how to do Karak’s will.”

Within five minutes teams of riders rode west into the hillside.

All the while, Jerico ran.