The Broken Pieces(3)

Sebastian rubbed his eyes, felt them tearing up with frustration and panic. He wouldn’t lose this war. He couldn’t. Arthur would hand him over to that rebel, Kaide the Cannibal. What the man would do to him…would he even kill him?

“Damn you, Luther,” Sebastian said, though he had no clue what god might be left to do it. Karak would not damn his own, and as for Ashhur…

Ashhur was dead, his paladins gone, his priests too weak to stop it. There was no one left.

No one left at all.





2



Jerico awoke with a start, crying out while hardly aware he was doing so. Sweat poured down his face, and it felt cool against his skin in the chill night air. He’d flung off his bedroll, no doubt from flailing about in the night. Clouds hid most of the stars, but the moon shone through one of the scattered gaps, and in its light Jerico stared at his hands. They were shaking.

“Just dreams,” the paladin said, steadying his breathing in an attempt to slow down his heart. “Dreams, that’s all, nothing more.”

He lay back down and closed his eyes. Though he was on the outskirts of Robert’s camp, he was still close enough to hear the snores and shuffling. From all around thrummed the cicadas, plentiful in the tall grass in the Knothills where they camped. To some it would have seemed dreadfully loud, but to Jerico it was nothing compared with Sandra’s echoing screams in his head.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it. The battle at the Castle of Caves was at its end, Sebastian’s siege crushed by the unexpected aid of Luther’s army. Sandra had come running, leaping into his arms, oblivious to the gore and death all around them in the gates of the castle where Jerico had helmed the defense. She’d been his first love, his only love, and night after night he re-lived that moment where Luther came, pointed his finger, and blasted her heart to pieces with a bolt of lightning that had shimmered black.

Now do you understand, Jerico? Luther had said as Jerico held Sandra’s corpse in his arms. You are insignificant, just a puppet to my desires. Go off into the wilderness and die. There is no longer a place for you in this world.

Such calculated cruelty. It made him shiver still. Luther had meant every word, and spoken them as if to a child or troublesome animal. Jerico, covered in the blood of dozens of soldiers, had been nothing but a tool. But for what reason? As he closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep, he pondered on that, wishing his mind to remain on things other than the life vanishing from Sandra’s eyes. Why had Luther wanted Jerico to keep Lord Arthur alive? What purpose? Everything he knew about Lord Sebastian implied he was an ardent supporter of Karak.

…just a puppet…

That’s how Jerico felt. A clueless puppet. How did one fight against the strings when ignorant of the direction they pulled?

“Forget it,” Jerico muttered, slowly rising to his feet. His mind was too awake.

Walking away from the camp, he hoped to put his mind at ease, to let the sounds of the night and rhythm of his steps drown away the lingering fears. Just south of the camp was a larger hill, and Jerico climbed it, the motion stretching the muscles of his legs in a satisfying way. He’d thought to overlook the encampment alone, but was surprised to find another. Jerico’s first instinct was to reach for his mace, but Ashhur cried no warning in his mind. Besides, he’d left his mace and shield next to his bedroll, a rather stupid act in hindsight.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” the other man asked. He sat facing the camp, a long dirk in hand. When he looked up to speak, the faint light shone across his face, revealing his gray hair tied in a long ponytail.

“I could ask you the same thing, Kaide,” Jerico said.

Kaide met his gaze, and for several long seconds he showed no reaction. Then he looked away, back down to his dirk.

“I think we both know the answer,” the bandit lord said.

Jerico did, of course. Six days ago they’d buried Sandra along with the rest of the dead. If anyone felt the pain keener than Jerico, it’d be Kaide.

“Mind if I sit?” Jerico asked. “If neither of us can sleep, we might as well talk.”

“Why not?” Kaide said. “You do tend to help one fall asleep.”

“That’s what the people in Durham used to say after my sermons,” Jerico said, forcing an unreturned smile. Shaking his head, Jerico sat beside the man, and together they overlooked the tents. On one side were Lord Arthur’s men, about five hundred in number. On the other side were those belonging to Kaide. Most slept below the open sky instead of in tents, having little more than the clothes on their backs and a desire for vengeance in their hearts.