The Shadows of Grace (34 page)

The halforc swore and kicked. Furious, he stormed away, Tarlak at his heels.

“This isn’t a big deal,” Tarlak said as he followed. “We’ve handled far worse, and…”

“No,” Harruq said, spinning about. “You know damn well Haern is the one responsible. I won’t have anything happen to my wife because of something he’s done.”

“Yes, because it’s not like we haven’t suffered because of your mistakes,” Tarlak said, immediately regretting it. Harruq staggered back, looking as if he’d been stabbed in the heart.

“Get away from me, Tar,” the halforc said.

“Look, I didn’t mean to…”

“I said leave!”

Tarlak threw his hands to the air. “Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll go. But you better be here in the morning. We’ll fix this, I promise.”

He returned to Bernard and his priests.

Harruq simmering in his anger and pain. He felt tears welling in his eyes, and an aching scream building in his chest. He felt betrayed, he felt weak, he felt furious and unbearably sad. He looked up at the stars and wondered what brutal god tormented him. His wife imprisoned, Haern alienated, Tarlak speaking hurt, the city twisted and listening to Karak’s priests…

“Come get us, Qurrah,” Harruq whispered to the stars. “We’re ready for you.”

He returned to his tent and did his best to sleep.

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 bloodshot eye, and then saw the halforc.

“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 halforc 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.