The Broken Pieces(78)

“Do not mind them,” Luther said. “They see your presence among us as a blasphemy, and they are all too set in their ways to be convinced otherwise.”

“Is it not a blasphemy?” Darius asked, and his smile didn’t hide the seriousness of his question.

“Blasphemy?” Luther said with a laugh. “Even the lion and the lamb will run side by side when chased by fire. Do not worry about them.”

“I’m not worried about right now,” Jerico said, thinking of the cold glares the paladins had given him. “It’s after.”

Luther nodded, and his silence was enough to show he shared such fears.

“Will you tell them of the enemy they face?” Darius asked as they traveled along.

“The less they know the better,” Luther said. “Cyric is dangerous, and a blasphemer. Any knowledge beyond that only invites heresy.”

They marched alongside the river, following it north. When a forest appeared in the distance, Luther gave orders for them to slow, and then with it a mere hundred yards away they came to a halt. The mercenaries scrambled about, setting up lines.

“Why here?” Darius asked.

“Wolves are creatures of the forest,” said Luther. “Let them come to us.”

“Will they, though?” Jerico asked. “We crushed them when they had far greater numbers.”

“That is true,” Luther said, his attention focused on the forest. “But now they have their god with them. They will come.”

Despite the sun, there was a darkness lurking in the trees, something ominous the light could not penetrate. Jerico pulled his shield off his back and took comfort in its glow. When he heard the first of the howls, he readied his mace, and then eyes shone out of the darkness, coupled with afterimages of hulking bodies wreathed in soft flame.

With a cry they charged, hundreds leaping from the trees. When Jerico took a step forward, Luther gently grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“No,” Luther said. “Let the mercenaries take the brunt of the first charge. Your energy must be saved for the true threat.”

“You’d let them die?” Jerico asked.

“Better this death than the life they’d have known without us, raping and pillaging for coin. Now their lives are sworn to Karak. Let them honor that vow. Whether they live or die is irrelevant. All that matters is Cyric.”

He glanced at Darius, who shook his head.

“Not our army,” he said.

The mercenaries formed a disciplined line, shoulder to shoulder, shields up and weapons braced. They’d faced the wolf-men before and held firm, so there seemed no reason to expect them to fail now. But Luther was right. This time they had their god with them.

From the forest sailed a thousand arrows, their tips gleaming purple, their shafts like obsidian. High into the air they arced, then fell like a dark rain.

“Hold!” was the communal cry of the mercenaries, and to their honor, they did. They fell by the dozens, and regardless of Luther’s cry, Jerico could not stand idly by. The line in tatters, the wolf-men slammed into them with renewed fury. At their forefront was a beast that towered over the rest, so similar to Redclaw, yet not him.

“Take him down,” Jerico heard Luther cry after him. “The rest will scatter.”

He risked a glance back, saw Darius following, and allowed himself a smile. Together the two paladins crashed into the conflict, right in the center where it was most chaotic. No longer outnumbered, the beasts clawed at the armor of their foes, and the unholy strength of them left black grooves in the metal. Against this Jerico flung his shield, and with each hit the wolf-men fell back, howling in pain. Darius’s sword soon followed after, cutting off limbs and opening huge gashes across their chests and bellies.

Worst, though, was Cyric’s new champion. He was bigger, stronger, and fought with a ferocity that he’d never seen matched. Together Jerico led them closer, trying to push through to where the wolf-man shredded their lines. It seemed they were to break, but then Luther called forth the rest of his army. The dark paladins filled the gaps, their burning weapons more than a match for the beasts. The priests remained back, and when another volley of black arrows sailed from the forest, they were ready. A shield appeared over the battlefield, protecting both friend and foe. The arrows hit it, sparked like flint, then vanished.

“Hurry!” Jerico cried, smashing in a wolf-man’s face before spinning to put his shield in the way of a charging beast. The wolf-man slammed into the shield hard enough to shatter his own skull, yet with a flare of light, Jerico slid only a small space backward.

“Trying!” Darius cried back, parrying away a flurry of blows from a smaller, nimbler beast.