The Death of Promises (39 page)

Krieger bore down on Lathaar, his weapons also Felhelads.

“Did you miss me?” he shouted as his sabers connected with Lathaar’s swords. Crackling power swirled between them. Lathaar winced and pushed back.

“How’s your back?” he asked. He parried a thrust, stepped aside, and then blocked a vicious chop. Behind him soldiers of Neldar readied their shields and stepped forward. The orcs had arrived, howling bloody murder. They filled the gateway, pouring around the paladins. The formation of shields wavered. Antonil shouted and urged them on, wading deep into the river of gray, but his valiant efforts were nothing compared to the hundreds pressing in.

Jerico parried a sideswipe with his mace, whirled his weapon around, and struck Carden across the chest. He was strong, but the power from his faith was in his shield, not his weapon. The mace recoiled, the enchantments on the armor too tough for his weapon to break. The dark paladin saw this and laughed.

“Those who cannot kill will be killed,” he said, slamming his Felhelad against the glowing shield. Again they both recoiled, wounded by the exchange. Two orcs ran past Carden and leapt at Jerico, their axes swinging. Jerico blocked one, clubbed the second in the jaw, and then slammed his shield against the first. Three more moved to attack Jerico but Carden cut them down with one giant swing. Despite his lecture with Krieger, he was determined to finish off the stubborn paladin without interference. Black fire leapt around his fist, and shouting the name of Karak, he punched Jerico’s shield.

Jerico knew what Carden was doing. Several of the stronger paladins of Karak could harness their faith into a single blow that could shatter stone and fell trees. The stronger their faith, the stronger the blow. He knew Carden’s faith was immense. When the fist connected with his shield, he knew immense didn’t come close. The center of his shield bowed inward, the metal cracking and melting. His arm shook in spasms while his fingers locked open. His mouth opened in a scream that felt unending. The pain stretched beyond intolerable.

When Carden’s fist pulled back, Jerico collapsed to his knees.

“Still alive?” Carden said as he hefted his Felhelad in both hands and raised it for a killing blow. “Accept my respect as I remedy this.”

Down came the sword.

L
athaar pressed the attack as the soldiers of Neldar made one last push to seal the gateway against the orcs. Krieger tensed his legs and braced against the powerful blows. He grit his teeth as his biceps throbbed under the strain. The dark paladin refused to budge when he reached the inner edge of the gateway, instead crossing both scimitars and locking Lathaar’s weapons together in their center.

“Your city is falling,” Krieger said as the veins in his neck bulged. “Your faith is a false hope to be extinguished. Karak is the true god. As you die, you will see the proof.”

Lathaar met Krieger’s stare without blinking. Human soldiers fought at his side, their coordination having beaten back the orcs to the broken gate. Screams of the wounded and dying filled his ears. As he poured his strength into his arms and swords, he saw the insanity lurking within Krieger’s eyes. All around, people were dying. Those he could aid. Those he could heal. Those he could protect with his swords.

“We don’t matter,” Lathaar said, the knowledge striking him like a hammer. He pulled back, slashed Krieger’s scimitars wide, and then rammed him with his shoulder leading. The dark paladin fell back, entangled in the horde of orcs behind him.

“Fighting to prove Ashhur’s faith is folly,” he said as Krieger slaughtered the hapless orcs that hindered his return to combat.

“Then why fight?” Krieger screamed as he slammed the hilts of his weapons together. The two interlocked when he twisted them, so that he held a long bladed staff instead of two separate scimitars. He twirled it in his hands as overwhelming rage burned in his heart. Several orcs tried to assault Lathaar, but Krieger beat them back, severing the head of one who did not react quickly enough. The paladin was his to kill!

“Thousands will die within these walls if I don’t,” Lathaar said, quiet enough to ensure the dark paladin did not hear. “That is all that matters.”

He slammed his Elholads together, the bright light blinding the orcs that stampeded into the city. The human soldiers had spread out, their tight line bulging into a semicircle that threatened to break with every passing moment. Only Lathaar stood in its center, no orc foolish enough to attack. Lathaar, however, did not care about his duel. He didn’t care about Krieger. All around were bringers of death, and he would end them. He spun, his swords cutting and slicing. Tens of orcs died as they tried to rush around him for the easier targets behind. Krieger lunged, twirling his staff as if it weighed nothing.

Lathaar batted aside his opening thrust, stepped closer, and slammed an open palm against Krieger’s chest. Ashhur’s voice was all he could hear. He didn’t know what it was he did, but when his palm touched the black metal of Krieger’s breastplate his vision turned white. Just as Carden had struck Jerico, Lathaar struck Krieger. The power hurled the dark paladin backward, through his troops of orcs and out of the city. Smoke drifted from the hole in his chestpiece. But Lathaar was not done. He sheathed his short sword and held the longer Elholad with both hands. Its blade stretched out another foot. It should have been unwieldy, but it was pure light, weighing nothing, killing everything.

A swipe to the right, and five orcs fell dead. A swipe left, and six more died. He whipped the blade around, cutting off the legs of a charging orc, and then slammed his Elholad to the ground. A shockwave of holy power lanced into the gateway, slicing through flesh and armor like butter. The orcs engaged with the humans, having lost their reinforcements, collapsed and fled. Shields pressed into the entrance, the Veldaren soldiers creating tight formations. Lathaar spun and saw the other dark paladin towering over Jerico as if he were a conquered prize.

“Jerico!” he shouted as he charged after Carden. The dark paladin was surrounded by soldiers of Neldar. The long black sword swirled around, slicing through shields and armor, but Antonil and his men did not let him rest, nor to score a killing blow upon Jerico. Time and time again he would swing his sword in a full circle, knocking away all who neared, and then try to stab the blade into Jerico’s chest. Each time Jerico lifted his shield and blocked the blow. The shield’s glow had faded, and he looked beyond exhausted, but he was stubbornly alive.

“Cowards,” Carden shouted to the men who encircled him. “Will none of you stand to fight, or will you flee like diseased dogs?”

Antonil thrust at Carden’s back, but he had been baited. Carden was ready. The enormous length of his blade should have severed his head and sent it rolling through the street, but the Felhelad stopped. Lathaar protected him, sparks exploding between them as their blades collided.

“Your faith isn’t enough to challenge me, boy,” Carden said.

“Ashhur thinks otherwise.”

They pulled back and swung again. At the collision of their god-blessed blades, orcs and men alike shielded their eyes against the light. Lathaar and Carden pushed against each other with all their strength, locked in a stare of death. Whoever blinked, whoever faltered, would die.

“The city falls,” Carden said through clenched teeth. “No heroism will save it.”

“Shut up already,” Jerico said as he swung his mace from his prone position. Bonebreaker struck Carden’s ankle, bent in the metal, and then touched flesh. The magic within activated, and Carden screamed as the bones in his foot shattered. Antonil leapt in, thrusting his sword through the exposed gap in the armor underneath Carden’s arm. Blood soaked his sword, but before he could twist it the dark paladin spun. His giant blade batting them all away like insects. But as the blade spun around, Haern appeared directly before Carden, a wicked grin on his face. He sliced his sabers across the sides of Carden’s neck, severing an artery before somersaulting away.

Lathaar saw the blood, saw the pain, and knew his opponent beaten. In one single move, he spun a full circle and swung. The momentum and power pushed aside Carden’s last attempt to block. The Elholad melted his armor, cut through his arm, and cleaved his body in two. The black fire around the Felhelad vanished.

Outside the gate, Krieger shrieked in mindless fury.

W
hat is the matter?” Qurrah asked. Velixar’s face had grown ashen in a rare expression of sorrow.

“Ashhur has always been bitter in defeat,” Velixar said. “Two of my dearest friends are dead. Still, we have not entered the city.”

“Are you sure we can’t play yet?” Tessanna asked, smiling and batting her eyes like a child. Meanwhile, a dark paladin rode up on horseback and saluted Velixar.

“A spellcaster has formed twin walls of fire at the southern gate,” he said. “Their forces are ready to break, but we have no means to combat the magic.”

“So damn stubborn,” Velixar said, a bit of frustration leaking into his voice. Qurrah kissed Tessanna’s lips and then bade the dark paladin to give him a ride.

“You cannot go,” Velixar said. “You are too valuable. The portal must be opened, and if you are killed…”

“If I am killed,” Qurrah said, “then I never had the strength to aid you in the first place. Our armies are dying. There is no honor in this, not for either side. Let death come swift.”

The dark paladin waited for a sign from Karak’s greatest prophet. After a moment, Velixar nodded.

“So be it,” he said. “The south gate is yours. Return the moment our minions enter the city.”

Qurrah bowed. The horse turned and rode for the south entrance.

“So few,” Tessanna said, laughing at the man in black. “All our numbers, all our power, and we are held back by so very few.”

“Valiant efforts disgust me,” Velixar said. “The west gate is yours to destroy. Let in our troops however you see fit.”

Tessanna beamed and blew him a kiss. “I knew you’d let me have my fun,” she said.

She eyed the city as her breathing quickened and her pulse raced. Fire consumed many buildings. The smoke floated in a gentle breeze. Somewhere within was her reflection. Mother had told her to shatter her reflection, and she would obey. The pleasure in the imagining was overwhelming. But the men at the gate with their shields and swords were keeping her from her pleasure.

“Blood is a strange thing,” she said. Her fingers crossed. Magic leapt out of her like a river. A hundred orcs lined before the gate lurched and howled as their blood exploded out their bodies. The blood flowed through the air in rivers, pooling above the ground as Tessanna held it firm in her mind. “It is our life, and at its loss we die…but no other substance in our world holds so much magic and desire for death. Well, other than you, Velixar.”

The blood sank to the ground. It grew thicker, stronger, congealing and reshaping as necessary. From the great pool three forms stood, each with feminine features. They had no eyes, but they did not need them. They could sense the blood of their foes. Tessanna shook her fingers, and strange words poured faster and faster from her mouth. The beings grew larger, drawing in the blood from which they formed. Soon they were five times the size of a normal man. Around their heads blood congealed into long ropes of hair that flowed down to their ankles. Although they had no eyes, they did have mouths, and each one opened and let out a shriek that pierced the sounds of battle.

“You must teach me that spell,” Velixar said as he watched in awe.

“Blood elementals,” Tessanna said as she smiled. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

The elementals marched toward the gateway where Antonil’s men stood horrified. The two paladins rushed the front and stood side by side. Haern, however, had other plans. He weaved through the ranks of the soldiers to Mira, who sat resting against a wall.

“You’re needed,” Haern said to her.

“Haern,” she said. “Will you protect me?”

He took her hand. “Until death, my lady. Now come.”

The first of the blood elementals neared the entrance. It was taller than the walls, but rather than duck inside the gateway it struck with its fists. The stone cracked and crumbled. A second stepped beside it and rammed its shoulder against the wall. Soldiers dove back as the gateway collapsed in on itself. At first it appeared the rubble would still hold them at bay, but then the three grabbed chunks of stone and hurled them away.