The King of the Vile (9 page)

“Surrender,” Harruq said, pulling back his rage. It was a struggle, and he felt every muscle in his body trembling, but he fought down the impulse to kill. Behind him, he heard Deathmask and Veliana continue to battle Syric, and he knew if he didn’t end the fight soon, they would.

“I will tell the others,” Shoa said. “You drew your swords in defense of criminals. No matter your position of power, you will stand trial for such a crime.”

“I have a thousand sins on my shoulders, and you would condemn me for this?” Harruq asked. Out of all the angel had done, this betrayal stung the most.

“Your people begged for blood-soaked justice,” Shoa said. “Cast the blame before their feet, not mine.”

Syric screamed. Shoa turned, worried for his comrade, and in that brief moment Harruq plunged Condemnation into the angel’s chest. Shoa lurched forward, blood leaking from beneath his armor. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Harruq let go of the blade, and he stepped away to avoid the blood. Shoa staggered, then crumpled sideways and lay still. The noise of battle quieted, both angels defeated, and the ensuing silence was deafening.

Harruq dropped to his knees before the body, and he felt his arms go limp. Lying dead before him was one of the angels his own prayer had summoned, the saviors who had emerged from a rupture in the sky to assault Thulos’s demons. An angel who had fought time and again to defend Dezrel, giving everything to war in the skies above Avlimar so Harruq might have time to defeat the war god.

An angel Harruq had murdered.

“What have I done?” Harruq asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Deathmask joined his side, and he knelt before the angel’s body. Two tugs, and Condemnation slid out. Using the bottom of his cloak, Deathmask cleaned off the blood, tossed the sword to the ground.

“No one will know,” he said, fire wreathing his hands. With a touch, the fire spread to the angel’s corpse. “They will search for their missing, and when they find them, they will place the blame on my shoulders.”

Harruq retrieved Condemnation, slid both swords into their sheaths, and slowly stood. Mouth dry, legs weak, he watched the fire consume the corpse, turning flesh to bone and cloth to ash.

“This never should have happened,” he said.

Deathmask clapped him on the shoulder.

“A lot of things never should have happened, but they have, and now we’re stuck with the mess. Go back to the city, Harruq. Go back, and this time keep your eyes open to what’s truly happening to this world. From the lowest of rogues, to the steward of the realm, no one is safe.” Deathmask snapped his fingers, extinguishing the fire. “It seems mercy’s been replaced with judgment in this dark hour, and all of us suffer the cost.”

Harruq watched the two vanish into the ruins of Avlimar. He tried telling himself the man was wrong, that things weren’t so dire. The angels were still a force of good. They were still protectors of mankind.

The sound of wings. Harruq glanced up to see two more angels land and stare at the charred corpses in horror.

“What happened here?” one of the angels asked.

Harruq swallowed down a lump in his throat and answered with the truth.

“They found Deathmask,” he said. “And because of it, they died.”

7

D
espite the danger, despite the swarming hordes of vile creatures threatening every mile of their journey south, Dieredon still ensured Jessilynn trained each day with her bow. Jessilynn found the dedication both admirable and insane.

“I still miss hitting stuff standing still,” she said as she walked alongside the elf. Her bow was drawn, and she held an arrow loosely to the string. “What’s the point in shooting while moving?”

“Because we can’t afford to stand still,” Dieredon said. “Given the nature of our foes, you will find rare opportunities for clean, unhurried shots. Learning to aim while jostled and moving will prove invaluable.”

They walked a dirt road surrounded by tall yellow grass leading toward the Castle of the Yellow Rose. The road continued on for several miles ahead, ending at a distant forest. They’d sent the survivors of many villages that direction, and Jessilynn was relieved they’d found no signs of an ambush. Several hundred yards away, a hollow log sat in the center of the road, and Dieredon insisted she fire at it during their approach. She’d told him it was impossible, and in reply he’d fired off a single shot, the arrow arcing through the air to strike the log dead center with a dull thunk.

“Fine,” she’d murmured. “It’s
almost
impossible.”

Her first attempt landed painfully short, the arrow hitting the dirt and burying the point. She overcompensated on her second and sent the arrow sailing into the surrounding grass.

“You’ll need to retrieve that,” Dieredon said.

Groaning, Jessilynn attempted a third shot. Each step she took threw off her aim, and though she tried timing it for when the bow was calm, she still failed. The arrow shot wide.

Frustrated, Jessilynn reached for another, then decided against it. Her fingers brushed the drawstring. At her touch, an arrow of pure light appeared, and without need of an arc, she aimed straight at the log and released. The arrow flew, not once dropping toward the ground. It blasted into the center of the log, sending pieces of wood flying in all directions.

“There,” she said. “I hit your log, as requested.”

She didn’t need to look at his face to tell he was upset, only listen to the strain his voice.

“You did,” Dieredon said. “But not with an actual arrow. Now go retrieve the two you lost.”

“I don’t understand why,” she said. “It’s not like I need them.”

“You do,” the elf insisted. “And as long as you are training under my tutelage, you will use your regular arrows.”

“Even in combat?”

The elf sighed.

“Yes, even in combat if at all possible. I do not wish to argue this matter, Jessilynn.”

Jessilynn looked to the tall grass, thinking of the bugs that would be crawling on her as she searched for two stupid little arrows.

“Well I do,” she said, her temper flaring. “Why are you so insistent I use real arrows? You’ve seen what I can do without them. Ashhur is with me. All I have to do is touch the drawstring to summon an arrow, so why bother?”

“Because one day it will fail!”

Jessilynn lowered her bow, taken aback by his sudden outburst. She froze in place there in the road.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked softly.

Dieredon crossed his arms and looked away.

“I have seen it a thousand times over,” he said, “and I fear I’ll see it again. Mankind contains such potential, but that potential is not just for good. For all your virtues, you also fall prey to doubt, to fear, and to confusion. It is inevitable. No man or woman goes through their life without such things.”

He turned to her, and she was stunned by the compassion in his eyes.

“One day, when your life is at risk, I fear your faith will falter. And in that moment, I would have you readying a real arrow that is sure to be there no matter
what
you believe.”

“Do you truly think so little of me?” she asked. “Are you so certain my faith will crumble? I am stronger than that, Dieredon. Stronger than anyone’s ever given me credit for, and look how Ashhur has rewarded me for it. I won’t doubt.
I won’t.
”

Dieredon shook his head.

“The heroes you worship in your stories are not heroes because they never doubted, but because they doubted and still fought on to accomplish great deeds. Your confidence in your own faith in Ashhur borders on arrogance. If I wounded your pride, so be it, but better your pride than your flesh.”

The elf abruptly resumed walking down the road, not waiting for a response. Jessilynn stood there holding her bow, unsure of how to react. Part of her was furious; he was doubting her faith, and insisting she would someday falter in her beliefs. But part of her, the quiet voice that never seemed to go away when she was trying to sleep, insisted he was absolutely correct. She would fail, and often. Was it so terrible for the elf to point out the inevitable?

Jessilynn followed the elf down the road. When she reached the shattered log she turned off into the grass in search of her lost arrows. The first one she found easily enough, but the second proved much more difficult. Using her bow to push grass side to side, she worked her way back and forth, steadily getting farther from the road.

Just when she was about to give up and call it hopeless, she heard something whistling through the air. She looked up to see an arrow land thirty feet to her left. Far down the road, Dieredon lowered his bow. Jessilynn following his arrow, found it sticking in the dirt right beside her own. Retrieving both, she returned to the road, putting her two into her quiver and holding Dieredon’s third.

“Thanks,” she said after catching up to him.

The elf nodded but said nothing.

The two traveled in unbroken silence for much of the hour, Dieredon speaking only when they arrived at where the road vanished into the forest. The trees were tall and bare, most of their leaves fallen. Dieredon peered into the forest and frowned.

“The locals call this the foxwood,” Dieredon said. “We must pass through, or waste two days traveling around to its southern edge.”

“Why wouldn’t we pass through?” she asked.

In answer he guided her off the path and toward the forest’s edge. He stopped at a tree and paused. Jessilynn wondered what his elven eyes had spotted. She then spotted four deep grooves cut into the bark high above the ground, their size and shape painfully familiar. Jessilynn’s hand brushed her scarred face and winced.

“Wolf-men have been here,” she said.

“They have.”

“What if it was from before? Back when Darius and Jerico fought them?”

The elf shook his head.

“That was years ago, while these are a day old at most. The wolves have beaten us here, Jessilynn. The question is, did they continue on, or do they wait in ambush?”

Jessilynn shuddered. How many bones might lay among the leaves? Had any of the people they saved made it through, or had they died, mauled in the dark as they traversed the foxwood?

“We can’t go around,” Jessilynn said. “If the wolf-men are ahead of us, then we’ve wasted too much time as it is. We must go through. If they try to ambush us, well...” She grinned at the elf. “You are the legendary Dieredon, after all. They’re welcome to try.”

Dieredon smiled, and he looked relieved despite the potential danger. “I’m glad you are with me. You are like Jerico in many ways, including his ability to tell jokes when other men would be afraid.”

“I’m flattered,” she said, pulling her bow off her back. “Now lead on. We should cross as much distance as we can before dark.”

“Indeed, ” said Dieredon. “Come nightfall, I expect the wolves to come out to play.”

They ate before heading into the forest, not expecting to have much chance to rest once they entered. The path they found was hidden under leaves but still easy to follow given how densely the trees grew together. Jessilynn had missed it at first, but Dieredon, who could spot a single arrow lost in a giant field from one hundred yards, did not.

Two hours into their travel, the sun began its descent and the first of the howls sounded, piercing through the woods and echoing all around them. Jessilynn’s hands shook.

“Remember to stay calm,” Dieredon whispered. Leaves crunched underneath her feet with each step, but Dieredon didn’t make a sound. The fact that she was surprised by that left her feeling embarrassed.

“Calm,” Jessilynn muttered. “Right. Calm.”

“I mean it. They’ll try to frighten you, chase you off the path. Once you’re lost and afraid, it’s only a matter of time before...”

He paused. When another wolf howl came from behind them, Jessilynn felt her heart rate triple. If the creatures were surrounding them, how long until they sprung their trap?

“Maybe we should hide,” she said. “We can wait until daylight before crossing the rest of the way.”

“They’ll track us by scent,” Dieredon said. “There will be no hiding from them, not in a forest. We have to keep moving. Follow the path, even by moonlight, and slay those that would stop us.”

“What if there’s too many?” Jessilynn asked, unable to keep herself from voicing her strongest fear. The shadows of the bare tree limbs stretched long across the path, filling the forest with dark corners. Dieredon hastily counted his arrows, a quirk she’d seen him do only a few times. It was the closest the elf ever came to admitting nervousness.

“There won’t be too many,” he said. “And if there are, we’ll kill them until the number becomes acceptable.”

The howls continued, each one closer than the last. Jessilynn pulled her bow off her back and tapped Darius’s sword, hoping it might inspire some confidence. Dieredon’s head remained on a swivel, constantly checking both sides of the road.

“We’re already surrounded,” he said softly. “I can see several in the distance, lurking.”

Jessilynn tightened her grip on her bow. She searched the woods, wishing she had eyes as sharp as the elf’s. So far, she saw nothing, but she trusted her teacher.

“Why don’t they attack?” she asked.

“They’re waiting for dark.”

The continued down the path, the wolves kept howling. Jessilynn’s heart beat faster and faster, a cold sweat ran down her neck. Why couldn’t they just attack already? Memories of her torment at the hands of the sons of Redclaw raced through her mind, of her humiliation, her torture. The scars on her face itched as if they were freshly formed.

Calm down,
she told herself.
At the river you stood your ground and killed dozens. This time you’re not alone.

Her hand brushed Darius’s blade.

Not that I was ever alone.

The sun dipped lower, and Jessilynn found it increasingly hard to see. All around her the rustling of leaves grew louder, and many times she caught the glint of tawny eyes staring from deep off the path. There came another wave of howls, and she shivered.

“I hear at least fifteen,” Dieredon said when the howls died down. “Maybe twenty. This might be a problem.” The elf glanced her way. “Jessilynn, do you trust me?”

Nothing good ever followed such a question, but she nodded anyway.

“I’m going to leave you,” he said. “I want you to run for fifteen seconds down the path, just long enough for me to hide. Once you reach fifteen, stop wherever you are and hold your ground. Don’t move. Don’t run.”