Free Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) by James A. Hillebrecht Page B

fearing to say the words too loudly. “What say the Church Fathers to your claim?”
    “They demand proof,” the man snorted, half in frustration, half in disdain. “Even to bring Argus to trial would be a scandal to shake the whole Southlands to its roots. They wish to be certain in their charges and swift in their execution, yet not even the murder of a sanctified Bishop is enough evidence for them.”
    “A Bishop murdered?” said Darius, shocked. “But who?”
    “Bishop Kal whose diocese included Corland. And with him Father Maldonar, a goodly man and a fine priest.”
    Darius actually stopped and stared at the man. Kal and Maldonar had summoned him to the cathedral upon his arrival in Alston’s Fey to inquire about his intentions, and while they had clearly considered him heretic, they had simply tried to dissuade him from remaining within their jurisdiction. Now they were both dead.
    “How?” he asked thinly. “How did they die?”
    “The official account is slain and robbed by bandits as they made their way back from a visit to the Corland Embassy in Alston’s Fey,” replied the Priest. “But Argus had a hand in their murder, even if he himself did not do the deed. Yet the Church still fears to bring the monster to justice.”
    Darius nodded his head grimly at that. The Southlands would be awash in blood before they could pull Argus from the throne of Corland.
    “So your harm is doubled here, heretic,” Rathman said harshly. “Not only do you spread your poison freely, but you pull me from my watch over Argus. And the city of Monarch will bleed the more for it.”
    Darius heard the strident note in the man’s voice, a sign that he had left much of himself behind in this single-minded pursuit of evil. It was an issue with which he himself was very familiar.
    “You are Argus’ greatest victim, Father,” he said softly. “He has contaminated you with his hatred. Even if you should destroy him, the thorny seed he planted will ever sprout again within you.”
    Rathman paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied Darius’ unflinching face. “You have vision, Paladin. And perhaps some small store of wisdom. But if I am already destroyed, I’ll drag a foe or two of the Church down to hell with me.”
    “No, Father,” Darius answered with a shake of his head. “You might kill, but no man can cast another into hell. That is a path a man can choose only for himself.”
    * * *
    Sixty leagues to the north, the Silver Horde of Alacon Regnar marched steadily southward, the Juggernaut at its front and the Tyrant floating only a few score yards behind on his cloud of green mist.
    The forces of the Southland sortie forth from Jalan’s Drift
, the Ohric said in its cold and haunting voice. The green scepter was hovering in the air directly beside its master, its light breaking the gloom beneath the thick canopy overhead.
They come to challenge even as the Juggernaut weakens
.
    “They will fare no better than the other fools who dared face us in open combat,” Regnar answered.
    He reached out his hand towards a rock goblin warrior who was standing frozen with terror less than a dozen feet away. A twist of the wrist, and the goblin screamed in agony as he exploded into green flames. The burning creature lunged to the left in wild desperation, but Regnar cupped his hands as if capturing the green fire and concentrating it. The blazing sphere grew smaller and smaller, shrinking down with the still living goblin within it, until it was no larger than a fiery green marble. Regnar curled a finger, and the tiny sphere flew through the air towards him, and he caught it in a small black bag whose interior was ablaze with identical green light from a score of similar marbles.
    “We have many gifts to bestow on these visitors,” the Tyrant said with a twisted smile as he closed the black bag. “I look forward with pleasure to this meeting.”
    These are not the light horse and scattered troops of the plains states
, the