Read Online The Shadows of Grace by David Dalglish - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Dalglish
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cracked lips spat blood.
“What are you doing?” Tessanna shouted, her voice carrying the power of thunder. A bolt of red lightning tore through the tested, scattering them. Tessanna followed, glaring with her deep black eyes. Magic danced about her fingers, daring any of them to say a word. The tested swore at her and the paladin, but none moved.
“Traitor!” one woman shouted. Tessanna struck her dead with an arrow of acid that dissolved her face into goo. The rest held their tongues. Tessanna knelt next to Jerico, who was busy coughing and retching.
“They hurt you,” she said, stroking his face. “They can’t do that. Only I can hurt you.”
She turned and stood, scanning the crowd for the one she knew was among them.
“Who can speak for your idiocy?” she asked. “Which among you can justify your stupidity?”
“Idiocy? Stupidity?” Preston said, wringing his hands as he emerged from among the throng. “The death of a paladin of Ashhur is never such. It is just. It is wise. It is needed.”
Tessanna shook her head. If Velixar was right, Karak was letting Preston roam free to test his priests’ faith. Tessanna, however, could not care less. She hurled a bolt of lightning at him. Preston crossed his arms and braced his legs. Thunder sounded in the valley. The lightning parted, its strength gone. The high priest shook his head.
“You will suffer for such audacity,” he said.
“She will not,” Velixar said, pushing his way through the tested, Qurrah following after. “And you are a fool if you think you have the ability to harm a single hair on her head.”
“You protect her?” Preston asked, incredulous. “After what she has done?”
Velixar frowned. He could see more priests filtering their way through the crowd. For once he was being tested, and not the other way around. Karak’s prophet was far from happy. If he protected Tessanna, even after she murdered several of the tested, Preston would have ample fuel for his rants against him. So be it, he thought. The girl was far more important.
“Jerico is hers to torture,” he said. “He is hers to kill. You had no right to send the tested after him.”
“They did only what they felt was needed,” Preston said. “And to have a paladin survive while surrounded by so many of us faithful is a blasphemy!”
“Blasphemy?” Velixar roared. “You challenge the voice of Karak, then speak of blasphemy? We march to victory, to our god’s very freedom, and you think Karak finds such horrible insult in a broken man shivering in the cold as he pulls a cart like a beaten donkey?”
Qurrah felt his whip writhing around his arm. It wanted blood, and it seemed to share his disgust with Preston. If it ever came to that, the halforc decided, he would make sure the whip got the killing blow.
“You play dangerous games,” Preston said. He glanced about, making sure enough of his priests were nearby. “And you suffer our enemies to live. You appoint yourself leader without peer, without proof. Perhaps Karak’s voice is not so loud in your ear as it once was.”
“You damn yourself with such words,” Velixar said, his deep voice rumbling with anger. “But how many will damn themselves with you?”
Preston did not answer. He left, calling for his priests to follow. The tested went with him, resuming their songs. Their wild voices chilled even Velixar, for the worship was not to Karak like it should have been. They sang in near insanity, enjoying the power and certainty of their fanaticism. It pained him greatly to think that Karak was not with them.
“He needs to be dealt with soon,” Qurrah said when they were gone.
“You’re right,” Velixar said, pointedly glaring at Jerico. “He does.”
J erico slowly curled onto his side, ignoring the flares of pain in his shoulders. He lay on dying grass, without a blanket for warmth. They were a week out from Veldaren, and after the fourth day, when it became clear he did not have the
“What are you doing?” Tessanna shouted, her voice carrying the power of thunder. A bolt of red lightning tore through the tested, scattering them. Tessanna followed, glaring with her deep black eyes. Magic danced about her fingers, daring any of them to say a word. The tested swore at her and the paladin, but none moved.
“Traitor!” one woman shouted. Tessanna struck her dead with an arrow of acid that dissolved her face into goo. The rest held their tongues. Tessanna knelt next to Jerico, who was busy coughing and retching.
“They hurt you,” she said, stroking his face. “They can’t do that. Only I can hurt you.”
She turned and stood, scanning the crowd for the one she knew was among them.
“Who can speak for your idiocy?” she asked. “Which among you can justify your stupidity?”
“Idiocy? Stupidity?” Preston said, wringing his hands as he emerged from among the throng. “The death of a paladin of Ashhur is never such. It is just. It is wise. It is needed.”
Tessanna shook her head. If Velixar was right, Karak was letting Preston roam free to test his priests’ faith. Tessanna, however, could not care less. She hurled a bolt of lightning at him. Preston crossed his arms and braced his legs. Thunder sounded in the valley. The lightning parted, its strength gone. The high priest shook his head.
“You will suffer for such audacity,” he said.
“She will not,” Velixar said, pushing his way through the tested, Qurrah following after. “And you are a fool if you think you have the ability to harm a single hair on her head.”
“You protect her?” Preston asked, incredulous. “After what she has done?”
Velixar frowned. He could see more priests filtering their way through the crowd. For once he was being tested, and not the other way around. Karak’s prophet was far from happy. If he protected Tessanna, even after she murdered several of the tested, Preston would have ample fuel for his rants against him. So be it, he thought. The girl was far more important.
“Jerico is hers to torture,” he said. “He is hers to kill. You had no right to send the tested after him.”
“They did only what they felt was needed,” Preston said. “And to have a paladin survive while surrounded by so many of us faithful is a blasphemy!”
“Blasphemy?” Velixar roared. “You challenge the voice of Karak, then speak of blasphemy? We march to victory, to our god’s very freedom, and you think Karak finds such horrible insult in a broken man shivering in the cold as he pulls a cart like a beaten donkey?”
Qurrah felt his whip writhing around his arm. It wanted blood, and it seemed to share his disgust with Preston. If it ever came to that, the halforc decided, he would make sure the whip got the killing blow.
“You play dangerous games,” Preston said. He glanced about, making sure enough of his priests were nearby. “And you suffer our enemies to live. You appoint yourself leader without peer, without proof. Perhaps Karak’s voice is not so loud in your ear as it once was.”
“You damn yourself with such words,” Velixar said, his deep voice rumbling with anger. “But how many will damn themselves with you?”
Preston did not answer. He left, calling for his priests to follow. The tested went with him, resuming their songs. Their wild voices chilled even Velixar, for the worship was not to Karak like it should have been. They sang in near insanity, enjoying the power and certainty of their fanaticism. It pained him greatly to think that Karak was not with them.
“He needs to be dealt with soon,” Qurrah said when they were gone.
“You’re right,” Velixar said, pointedly glaring at Jerico. “He does.”
J erico slowly curled onto his side, ignoring the flares of pain in his shoulders. He lay on dying grass, without a blanket for warmth. They were a week out from Veldaren, and after the fourth day, when it became clear he did not have the
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