Cedric opened one eye and looked at the ceiling, and then the other, as he tried to work out where he was. Somebody muttered softly next to him and he felt a warm patch of bare flesh touch him. Memory came flooding back and he grinned as he turned, to find the two girls on his left still asleep. For a few moments he looked at the two naked bodies and thought pleasurably about the activities of the last night. Feeling a familiar stirring, he shook his head and muttered, "Down boy!" to himself, before carefully rising from the bed so as not to awake the others. After rising to his feet, he looked around to make sure where all his belongings were, idly scratching his rear at the same time. Then he slowly lowered himself to his knees by the side of the bed, closed his eyes and began to pray.

Some minutes later, a now fully-clad Cedric walked down the stairs to find Madam Catherine talking to a pair of the girls. Seeing him, Madam waved the girls away. Both of them made mock scowls in Cedric's direction, one sticking out her tongue playfully, before walking away. Madam smiled and said, "They're still a little miffed that you did not choose them last night. Did you ... sleep ... well?"

"They'll get over it," replied Cedric, with a chuckle. "Killing a dragon is one thing, but I am not yet bold enough to tackle four of your girls at once, Catherine. And yes, I did - as you put it - sleep very well."

"Why, sir knight," said she archly, eyes twinkling, "Aren't paladins supposed to be fearless?"

"If we were, Catherine," he riposted, with a mock-serious look, "Would I not have dared to court you yourself, rather than your girls? But such valor flows not in my bosom, that I might dare lay siege to a tower of beauty such as thou." The waggling of his eyebrows ended the speech in laughs from both parties.

"Anyway," said Cedric more seriously, producing a small bag from within his tunic and placing it on the table with a clinking of coins within, "Here is my payment for the week."

"Come now, Cedric - how many times do I have to say you don't have to pay? You heal and cure the girls, protect us while you are here - like with that ruffian last night, and we all love your company."

"I know. But I want to. And now, I am off. I'll be leaving this evening, so I may not see you again."

"Very well," said Catherine. "When do we see you again?"

"Probably in a week's time. I'll come by as soon as I'm back in town. Goodbye."

"We'll be expecting you then. Take care." As he walked to the door, Catherine picked up the bag and weighed it speculatively. Not that she needed to count. Knowing Cedric, it was exactly the same amount as before.

...

The young man, resplendent in his armor, stepped into the tavern and looked around with a distasteful look on his face. Making his way to the bar, he attracted the attention of the barkeep and said, "I was informed that Sir Cedric of Marne was present here." Taking another look around, he continued, "I assume the information was incorrect."

The barkeep paused to spit on the ground by his feet and then responded with a grunt, "Nah! Cedric's back there," indicating a table against the far wall.

With a skeptical glance, the young knight turned away and walked across the room, to find himself looking at a small table with a single occupant. The man at the table looked like just any other patron, worn clothing hanging around his frame, stubble on his gaunt cheeks and uncombed hair hanging down past his shoulders. A number of empty flagons stood on the table in front of him, and as he raised one to his mouth, his cloak shifted and revealed a polished holy symbol hanging upon his chest. Lowering the flagon, he dropped it on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before raising a hand and beckoning a passing barmaid for more drink. Then he belched loudly and reached down to scratch his groin.

The watching young man's mouth had already fallen open in horror, but this was the last straw. He walked up to the table and asked in a trembling voice, "Sir Cedric?!"

The man at the table looked up irritatedly and said, "Yeah! Who the **** wants to know?"

Enraged, the young man slammed his fist down on the table. "Sir Cedric! I am Magnus, knight of the Holy Order of the Brilliant Blade. I was sent here on an crucial mission, to find and enlist the aid of Sir Cedric, hero of the Order. And I find ... this!" His voice quivered in anger and disgust.

A hand closed around his arm and he almost yelped at the strength of it. Try as he might, he could not pull away, but was instead drawn closer till he was nose to nose with the other person. A person, he now noticed, whose eyes were completely cold and alert, and now burning with intensity.

"Sit!" said Cedric, inexorably pushing the younger man into a seat.

Once the befuddled Magnus was seated, Cedric leaned towards him and said quietly, "Yes - I am Sir Cedric of the Holy Order. Is there a problem?"

For a few moments, Magnus could not even form an answer, but finally he simply waved a hand in the general direction of Cedric and the rest of the tavern and said lamely, "It's - it's just that I didn't expect this. First I get sent to a brothel - a brothel! - where I'm told you are staying. And then they send me from there to this place. You're a ... a paladin, aren't you?"

Cedric doesn't answer for a moment, simply picking up the flagon and taking a big swig of alcohol. While swilling it around in his mouth for a moment, he turns and fixes Magnus with an unblinking eye. Then he swallows, grimacing slightly at the taste, and speaks. "Yes! I am a paladin. You obviously have a little idea what that means, but just in case, let me clarify it for you. I am a holy warrior, the chosen of my god, in a way not

even a cleric is. I travel the world, striking down evil, protecting the innocent, aiding the weak, bringing hope where there is none. I am the kind of hero that they write songs about."

For a moment, his mouth quirks in a sneer of self-deprecation, and then he continues. "Which - to put things very simply - means that I am a dead man walking. Some day, however good and pious and wonderful I may be, some day I will encounter an evil that is stronger, better organized or simply luckier than me. Whether tomorrow or years from now, whether it comes beneath a mighty dragon's claws or at the tip of a stupid goblin's spear, I will die violently, and in all likelihood, screaming in agony. There are many things paladins get to do that others do not. And one of them is that I get to die young. I know only one paladin who died of old age. Bodel the Shining, worshipper of Pelor. Oh, he was an inspiration to paladins everywhere! As long as you knew only of his deeds and never met him, sitting upright on a bed in a corner of a Peloran temple, gruel dribbling down his chin as an acolyte fed him. You see, Bodel once met a demon terrorizing a town and he unhesitatingly attacked. It didn't go as planned. The demon was much more powerful, and both clever and cruel. It ripped Bodel's arms and legs off, intentionally using its flaming body to cauterize the wounds so he would not bleed to death. Bodel spent the rest of his life, sixty years of it, sitting in that temple as an unmoving lump of flesh. Maybe I'll be luckier than him and run into something that will kill me on the spot. But I will run into it some day.

And you know what's the best thing about that? Everything that I do until that day is meaningless in the greater scheme of things. I can fight, and fight, and fight - until I don't have breath enough in my body to lift a finger, and all the good I do will end after I die. If it even lasts that long. I can cut down a warlord, reveal a murderous conspiracy, defend a town from a band of marauders. And a thousand warlords and conspiracies and marauders will rise in their place. I am a single soldier in a war that I cannot win. All I have is a sword and my faith. And arrayed against me is not just the great evil powers of the cosmos, but more dangerous and pervasive, the little flecks of evil caused by apathy and self-interest that lies in the hearts of all humanity.

Yes, I fight the good fight. And I fight it not because I can win or because I hope to do some lasting good, but simply because it should be fought. I'm too stupid to quit. But I'm smart enough to know that the choice I make has doomed me to a lifetime - in all probability a very short lifetime - of beating my head against a rock wall. So pardon me if once in a while I need a drink, or a good meal, or the sensation of a warm pair of thighs wrapped around me. I think you might agree that I've earned it. And if you don't, well then you can just go **** yourself. And do so in the knowledge that this two-bit drunk, swearing, womanizing bastard is willing to die to protect your miserable life. Have a nice day!"

Cedric smiles at Magnus' glazed expression and says, "But before you do that - how about telling me why the Order needs me? As at least some of my friends at Madam Catherine's should have told you, I live to serve."

Through the eyes of others

Cedric wiped his mouth and smiled at the shocked expression on Magnus' face, before

hooking his foot around a stool and pulling it in front of the younger man. "Sit down," he said, much less sternly than before. For a moment it looked like Magnus would refuse, but then he dropped into the seat, carefully avoiding the table with the spilled ale on it. Cedric smiled inwardly at the fastidiousness and leaned forward. "So Madam Catherine told you where you could find me?"

...

Catherine counted the coins for the second time to make sure, before placing them back in the bag. Then she opened a ledger, took a pen and settled down to her daily calculations. Just as she was finishing, there was a polite knock on the door.

"Come in," said Catherine, closing the ledger.

Alyssa entered."Excuse me, Catherine. Is Cedric still here?"

"No, he left awhile ago. Why?"

"Oh, Maya just came by to see him. She'll be disappointed."

Catherine laughed. "Why am I not surprised?"

Alyssa also grinned, before saying, "Well, you can't really blame the girl. She'd still be working the bars and rolling drunks if it wasn't for him - and you."

Catherine waved away the compliment. "I couldn't have done it without him." After a moment's pause, she smiled again and said, "And with Maya it isn't just gratitude. She's not the first one who owes him, and she won't be the last, but she's the only one who shows up to meet him whenever he's in town."

"True," said Alyssa. "Plus he was always especially fond of her. Heck, I almost expected them to get married."

"Not Cedric," said Catherine. "He always told me that he'd never make a woman a widow."

"Well," said Alyssa, "I might as well go tell her he's left. Will he be back?"

"Not till next month, I think," said Catherine, as the other woman began to open the door, and then stopped. Looking back at the madam, Alyssa asked, "Do you think Maya and he have...?"

Catherine smiled at her curiosity and said, "Not since she left. He won't touch a girl who has got out."

"Interesting," said Alyssa, and left.

As the door closed behind her, Catherine silently mouthed to herself, "Yes, he certainly is." The madam leaned back in her chair and mused for a moment, her expression turning distant and cold while she thought about what she had experienced years ago,

when she had been a prostitute herself. She thought of the incredible luck that got her out of the profession, and her vow to enable as many as she could to do so. For a moment she considered the possibility of just dividing the money she had among all the girls and telling them to get out and on with their lives, but then dismissed it with a sigh. A month and they'd be penniless and back on the streets she'd plucked them off. One step at a time, she told herself, as she did daily, one step at a time.

With a sigh, she turned back to her ledger, before her eyes fell on the bag. A small smile quirked her lips. That would be more than enough to get at least one of them out immediately, as soon the arrangements could be made. "Bless you, Cedric," she said quietly, before opening the ledger again.

Cedric nodded as Magnus completed the story. "Very well. I will leave today." He rose to his feet and took a step away from the table, before stopping and raising the flagon in his hand to his lips and draining its contents. With a contented "Aah!" and a loud belch, he placed it back on the table and then quickly headed for the bar.

Reaching the bar, Cedric quickly said to the waiting barkeep, "I'm off. Be seeing you." The two men shook hands before the paladin headed for the door, a bemused Magnus following him.

"So he's gone again?" asked one of the regulars at the bar.

"Yeah," said the barkeep, picking up an empty mug and beginning to clean it. "Right on the dot. Every month, it's exactly the same. He'll ride into town at the start of the third week and put up at Catherine's. He'll come here once daily at exactly the same time. He'll have seven ales, never more or less. After exactly one week, he'll leave. And the same the next month. I swear, that man's either a machine or a force of nature - I'm still not sure exactly which."

...

Outside, Cedric took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, making it very slightly less unruly than before. "You can head back to the Abbey," he said to Magnus. "Bob and I..."

Magnus looked even more puzzled than his brief interaction with Cedric had already made him. "Bob?"

"Yes," said Cedric, with a deadpan expression, though the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. "Bob is my horse."

Magnus choked momentarily, before managing to sputter, "Your celestial steed, granted by the grace of the High Lord, is called BOB?!"

"Well," said Cedric, "Actually he likes to be called Beobarius the Magnificent, but that's too bloody long for me. So Bob it is."

...

Beobarius raced across the plains of Elysium at incredible speed, enjoying the play of the celestial sunlight on his shoulders and the feel of the wind in his mane. The other horses galloped behind him, but none came any closer. Any watcher would have realized that even among the heaven-born horses of the herd, he stood out as unique, but there was none to see.

A faint prickling was the only sign, but Beobarius recognized it immediately. Cedric was calling! Incredibly, the celestial warhorse actually lengthened its stride, pulling away from the other horses. A tunnel of light that only he could see opened up before him, its walls flecked with the palest of blue. The sound of distant trumpets came to the horse's ears as it entered the tunnel and it whinnied gladly in response. To any watcher, the animal seemed to simply disappear in mid-stride.

Beobarius raced along the tunnel, even though he knew that time within its boundaries was only an illusion. Whether he walked or galloped or even came to a stop, he would emerge at exactly the same time. But his friend was calling, so Beobarius ran. As he did, a saddle and the accoutrements of war miraculously appeared on him. His previously unshod hooves now rang metallically on the floor of the tunnel.

A small dot of light appeared at the end of the tunnel and then swiftly the walls peeled away, to reveal the middle of a street, where Cedric and an armored young man stood. Beobarius stepped out of the tunnel and onto the ground beside Cedric, drawing amazed stares from the people passing by.

Magnus stared at the warhorse in shock, as Beobarius happily nuzzled his owner and was rewarded with a pat. His eyes ran along the bony flanks, the spindly legs, the tattered ear. "Thi...s is your horse?"

"Yes," said Cedric, with a smile. "Pretty, ain't he?" In a mock-serious tone, he said, "Come on, Bob - show the nice man how you sit up and beg."

Beobarius bared his teeth in what passed for a grin with him and then took a swift bite at Cedric. The paladin barely dodged and then instantly swung himself up into the saddle. "Good try, Bob" said Cedric, honest appreciation in his tone, "Better luck next time." For a moment Beobarius considered bucking him off - there was a nice midden not too far away, after all - but decided to leave it for another time.

Looking down, Cedric smiled at Magnus and said, "As I said, head back to the Abbey - fast. I'll get to the temple as soon as I can. Tell Father Shikuna to send word to the closest group of templars to meet me there."

His words brought Magnus back to himself. "Should I not come with you? Father Shikuna said that going alone will mean..."

Cedric's smile disappeared. "Yes," he said quietly, "I know. But there is no time and somebody has to be there." He looked down at the downcast young man and said more kindly than before, "If I return, I will speak to you. Thank you for your message." Without even a movement from him, Beobarius turned away. As the horse headed away, Cedric called back, "Watch your step, Sir Magnus."

Magnus watched him ride away for a few seconds. Then he shook his head, still trying to make sense of the man he had been sent to meet, before taking a step. There was a 'squelch' and he looked down, to discover what Cedric's departing words had meant. Magnus had just stepped in celestial horse-poop.

Shikuna asked, "So the messages have all been sent out?"

"Yes, Father," said Magnus. "I doubt, however, that any of them will be delivered - and answered - before tomorrow at the earliest."

The old priest sighed and said, "That, alas, we cannot do anything about. But you have done well. Go and rest now."

The younger man turned towards the door, and then hesitated, as Shikuna had known he would. Magnus turned back and said, a little diffidently, "Pardon me, Father, but if you would allow it - I have a question..."

"About Cedric," completed Shikuna.

Magnus reddened, but continued. "Yes, Father."

"Sit down," said the old man, thinking inwardly, This will take a while, but better now than later. Once Magnus had taken a seat, Shikuna leaned forward and said, "Something bothers you. Tell me what it is."

Magnus cast about for a way to begin and then burst out, "Everything! You sent me to deliver a message to someone who I'd always been told was a hero, an icon of the Order! And I find a ... a ..."

"...foul-mouthed drunkard and lecher?" finished Shikuna.

"YES!!" Magnus was almost shouting in his confusion. "How ... I mean ... why does the Order allow this... blasphemy?!" Realizing a little too late how loud he was, Magnus came to a halt.

Shikuna waited while the excited youth took a deep breath to calm himself, and then said quietly, "You think we should strip Cedric of his paladinhood? Even though the choosing is done by the High Lord himself?"

Magnus stared for moment, before saying, a little lamely, "No, I did not mean ... well ... but he is breaking every tenet of the Order. Isn't he?"

You were right, Cedric, thought Shikuna. You will only show them, but I will have to do the teaching. "Well, let's see now," he said. "What do the Tenets say about alcohol?"

Magnus recited like a schoolboy, "Thou shalt not allow alcohol to impair thy judgement."

"Good. Did Cedric seem like his judgement and capability was impaired?"

"Well, no. But what about..."

"And what do the Tenets say about visiting prostitutes?"

"Huh?" There was a pause, and then Magnus said a little more slowly, "Well, they do not mention it...."

"And what about swearing? Remember a Tenet about it?" pushed Shikuna.

"No-oo," said Magnus, even more slowly than before. He paused for a moment, evidently thinking very quickly. "But no priest of the Order that I have met actually does..."

"...any of that. True. Perhaps later you can take time to think about why that is so. But for now, you think that it is wrong for a paladin to do so?"

"Yes!"

"Very well. Tell me, warrior of the Order, what is a paladin?"

Again, as if repeating a catechism, Magnus recited, "A paladin is the greatest servant of the High Lord. The compassion to pursue good, the will to uphold law, and the power to defeat evil - these are the weapons of the paladin. The paladin is the upholder of the Code. The paladin stands on the edge, between the light and the darkness, and he does not yield. The paladin sees with the eyes of the spirit, not of the flesh."

"Good," said Shikuna, picking his moment to interrupt. "With what eyes did you see Cedric, Magnus?"

"Huh?" said Magnus, caught off-guard.

"That's all right," said Shikuna, waving a hand. "Now let me tell you a little about paladins. As they say in the tales, once upon a time..."

And Shikuna told Magnus the stories...

... about a young man, full of righteousness and zeal just as Magnus was, who served in the ranks of the Order and rose to the rank of paladin, vowing his life to the service of the High Lord.

... about the man who singlehandedly led a force of peasants to victory over a superior army of monsters, and returned to their village to find it gutted, with everyone in it killed, raped, and eaten.

... about the man who sat alone in a room for three days, without food or water, and who emerged to say that now that he had "had words with the High Lord", now he understood, to cast aside his shining armor and gleaming trappings, to embrace what he said was "the soul and center" of paladinhood and the Order.

... about the high priest of the Order, who commanded that the Tenets of the High Lord

be modified so as to be able to cast out an "inappropriate influence" from the Order, and who awoke the next morning stripped of his clerical powers.

... about the man who singlehandedly slew three blackguards, gave them the last rites, buried them, and wept over their graves, because that is what he might have been.

... about the man who walked and laughed and drank among the hungry and outnumbered soldiers of the Third Army, while the generals slept in their silk tents, before helping them to victory at the Battle of Atin.

... about the man who, when asked what was the most important thing that a paladin should remember, said, "That he is a human being."

... about the man who alternately walked and crawled on a broken leg for three days, carrying a wounded comrade, because he was "too pissed off to meet the High Lord right now."

It was over an hour later when Shikuna paused, more due to hoarseness than anything else. Magnus looked perhaps even more tired than the old man.

"And that was Cedric?" said the young man, hesitantly.

"Yes," said Shikuna. "There is much more I could tell you about him, but I will end with one tale."

And Shikuna told Magnus a tale which had nothing to do with heroism and war, with glory and purity. He told a tale* of Cedric sitting up all night in a peasant hovel with a dying old man, taking away such pain as he could, soothing away his terror, seeing him safely on his way ... and then cleaning him up, laying him out, making him neat for the funeral, helping the weeping widow to strip the bed and wash the sheets, staying with her the whole day and up the next night to watch over the coffin and officiating at the funeral ... and then going home and sitting down for five minutes, before some shouting man comes banging on the door, angry because he doesn't open the door quick enough, complaining that his wife's giving birth to his first child and the midwife's having trouble ... and Cedric smiling at the man and accompanying him without a word.

"That," said Shikuna, "Is the root and heart and soul and center of paladinhood. The soul and the center."

"So," said Magnus quietly, "You think I should do as he does?"

"Hah!" laughed Shikuna explosively. "No," he said, with a smile. "I do not think there is one among us - or among the paladins of the world, whether of our Order or any other - who could do what he does and fail to slip over. Not even you, young Magnus."

Magnus blushed at the comment, but Shikuna went on, almost as if talking to himself. "You were right. The paladin does stand on the edge between light and darkness, but every paladin besides Cedric faces into the light. He looks over the edge into the darkness. Every moment of every day, he watches the dark, and he watches the dark watch him, and he walks the edge between the two. He is one of the few - the very few -

whom the High Lord blesses with true sight and understanding, and that is as much of a curse as a gift." The old man's voice was thick with mingled fascination and pity as he finished.

Shikuna shook himself and then leaned over to pat Magnus on the shoulder. "But that is enough for now. You need to go and rest, and so do I. Maybe tomorrow I will tell you some more."

"I would like that," said Magnus as he rose to his feet and made a formal bow to the priest. "Thank you, father - for everything."

"You are always welcome," said Shikuna, and watched as the young man slowly walked out of the room. Hopefully, there goes someone who will never trust only his eyes again.

As he rose slowly to his own feet, he thought, You are right, Cedric - you exist as a lesson to us all. And only the High Lord knows exactly what the lesson is.

* If you think you recognize that section from Terry Pratchett's A Hat Full of Sky, you're right. My little homage to the master.

Fighting the good fight

Beobarius galloped along the abandoned path, his bony frame and angular body moving with a precision and speed which would have surprised any onlooker. Atop him, Cedric cast a look at the sun, now westering right ahead of him. We will barely make it at this speed, he thought, And that too if Shikuna was right.

He leaned forward and patted the horse's sweat-streaked neck softly. "I am sorry, old friend. I know you are tired, but we cannot stop." He chuckled inwardly, and then said, "So, Bob, how about really moving that celestial ass of yours?"

There was a short whinny in reply, followed by a mental message whose emotional overtones of amused irritation did not quite hide the love and respect beneath it, and then incredibly, Beobarius actually lengthened his stride. Paladin and steed raced into the sunset, their dark shadows streaming behind them like pursuing furies.

***

The only thing in the clearing was a decrepit old temple. Despite its evident age, the walls and roof were still upright and the vegetation seemed to have spared it strangely, not even any moss or ivy wreathing its walls. Just as strange was the complete silence in the clearing. The only signs of life were half a dozen figures looking up at the building.

Greed battled with caution in the eyes and voice of Caseith, anointed high priest of the Dark Fury, as he asked the figure standing beside him, "Are you sure this is the place?"

"Yes, Caseith," came the answer in a throaty purr which made even the simple statement seem like an invitation to carnality.

"Then, dear Alecto," said Caesith, "Why don't you lead the way?"

"Coward," said his companion laconically, before walking up the two broken steps to the doorway. Caseith did not respond, but a single gesture sent the four armored figures behind him moving forward after her.

Alecto reached forward and shoved, sending the door flying open. For a split second the others saw only darkness within and then light flared.

Cedric calmly dropped the torch onto the carefully prepared pile of oil-soaked wood he had prepared and the flames leapt up instantly, illuminating the doorway and the area beyond. On and below the steps leading to the door stood four armored figures, weapons in hand. Behind them stood another figure in similar armor, a scaled helm hiding his features, a cruelly barbed spear in his hand. Cedric mentally marked down the last as the greater danger, but his attention was focused on the singular figure standing in the doorway. The figure could have been that of an incredibly beautiful woman, perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen, raven hair curling around an exquisite figure. Except for the half-spread bat-wings, that is.

Even as the succubus snarled in surprise, Cedric smiled at her and raised his sword in a mock-salute. Six to one, he thought. Not good. But perhaps...

"Greetings, lady," he said companionably, "Shall we dance? Unless your chaperones mind, that is."

The answering smile from Alecto was significantly less mirthful that his. "This fool is mine!" she spoke over her shoulder to those behind her.

"How kind of you," said Cedric, still holding the smile. "I'd ask you to have a drink, but I'm almost out." With his other hand he raised a bottle to his lips, draining the remaining liquor in it, still carefully keeping an eye on her. The heat of the alcohol burned into his throat even as the magic potion he had placed within did its work, preparing him for the battle.

With a sweep of her wings, Alecto hurled herself forward through the air, claws reaching for him. Having waited for exactly this moment, Cedric responded immediately, flinging the bottle into her onrushing face and following it with his slashing blade. The demoness screamed as the holy sword laid open her arm and Cedric swayed away from her talons.

But even as he did so, a bolt of ravening dark energy came flying through the door, slamming into Cedric and momentarily draining his strength. Though he took the blast stoically, it was just the distraction Alecto needed, and she was instantly on top of him. He managed to land another shallow wound before she was inside the sweep of his sword, claws digging into his shoulders, bearing him to the ground. Cedric struggled for a few moments against her magically enhanced strength, but the claws digging into his wrist finally forced him to drop the sword.

Think fast, moron! said Cedric to himself as he looked up into the snarling face. Steeling himself, he smiled up at her and stopped struggling. "Be gentle," he said. "This is my

first time - with a succubus." The comment drew first a look of surprise and then an anticipatory leer. Exactly as he had been hoping, Alecto leaned over and kissed him.

The demoness felt her captive's energy drain and flow into her and she revelled in the feeling. As they always did, he went completely limp and helpless beneath the onslaught of her unearthly allure. Raising a hand to stroke the quiescent face, Alecto slid her tongue wetly into his mouth and suggested sweetly around it, "Wouldn't it be better to help me find it, so that we could stop fighting and explore ... other possibilities?" Fool! she thought. Nobody can resist my suggestions.

Cedric felt the waves of magical compulsion wash over his mind and body and laughed inwardly. This was his mind and body, and for years they worked in unison, neither conflicting with the other as the average person's - and paladin's - did. No demoness of the Pit could have any hold over him. He felt her tongue probe deeper into his mouth - and bit down.

Caught completely off-guard, Alecto tried to scream. The puny human's teeth should have had no effect on her demonic flesh, but they sheared through it with the same power and painful effectiveness of a celestial blade. Though she had a host of magical abilities at her command, all she could concentrate on was the incredible pain. With a strangled shriek she tried to scramble backwards, clawing desperately at Cedric. There was a moment of exruciating pain and she was free. Blood bubbling from her ravaged mouth, the succubus looked up, just as Cedric's holy sword came around in a shining sweep.

Alecto's headless torso collapsed and Cedric looked over it into the shocked eyes of those standing beyond the door. Then he turned to spit the first half of her tongue onto the ground, before flashing a brilliant smile and tapping his teeth. "Holy teeth," he said, companionably.

A befuddled Caseith gaped at this strange enemy. "You enchanted your teeth?!"

"Hey, if you're expecting a succubus...," said Cedric, letting the sentence trail off into the obvious. Raising his sword into a ready position, he asked "Who's next?"

"KILL HIM!" shrieked Caseith in rage, hurling another spell at the paladin which he calmly deflected. The four armored figures hefted their weapons and charged. As the first of them burst through the doorway, stepping on a piece of flooring that Alecto had flown over during her attack, Cedric took a quick couple of steps and dived through the closest window, taking the cloak he'd hung over it with him. He hit the ground outside with a painful thump, but the sound was overshadowed by the thunder of falling masonry beside him.

Rising to his feet, Cedric looked with satisfaction at the almost completely crumbled ruin, momentarily shrouded in dust. As it settled, he saw that three of the walls he had worked carefully on had collapsed completely, taking the roof and part of the fourth wall with them. Only a boot protruding from beneath tons of stone revealed where the four attackers had been.

Caseith stared in amazement at the sight and then back at Cedric. "You TRAPPED it?"

"Obviously," was the calm answer. "Care to run?"

With a snarl, Caseith swung the spear in his hand to face Cedric. "I will take your body, paladin, and Soulstealer here will feast on your spirit."

"Fair enough," said Cedric, warily noting the black and red flames that ran up and down the barbed blade of the spear. "I, on the other hand, will kick your stupid ass, cut off your ing head, give you a bloody decent burial and say prayers for your oh-to-totally-ed-up soul."

Without a shouted curse, Caseith charged and the battle was on. Within moments of the start, Cedric knew he was somewhat outmatched. Even though his individual skill was lower, his enemy was literally bristling with magical protections. Even so, the odds might have been on the paladin's side, but the long ride and the battle with the succubus had tired him. Most worryingly, the dark spear seemed to anticipate his moves, almost guiding its wielder's hands to the perfect position every time.

Cedric fought on, stoically taking blows that he could not avoid and looking for an opening. Finally, Caseith stumbled and Cedric managed to catch him with a sweeping blow that should have cut him in half. But at the very last moment, the priest swayed aside, turning a killing blow into merely a serious one. Unfortunately for Cedric, there was no way to halt the momentum and he felt the flames of agony as Caseith pierced him with the spear.

"The Dark Fury be praised!" screamed the priest in triumph as he saw the spearhead completely enter the paladin's stomach, fixing his eyes on his enemy's face to watch him die.

To his consternation, Cedric looked down at the spear and up at him, before painfully whispering, "The Dark Fury can kiss my ass!"

And then Cedric hurled himself up along the shaft of the spear, completely impaling himself. The last thing Caseith saw was the cold eyes of the paladin flaming in triumph, as did the holy sword which decapitated him.

Cedric collapsed on the ground, feeling the life flow out of him in a torrent, incredible agony running through his entire body. He pulled feebly at the shaft of the spear, to no avail. As his vision dimmed, for a moment he thought of simply letting go, before his natural fighting spirit reasserted itself. With a last effort and a mental prayer to the High Lord, Cedric poured all of his healing ability into himself. Energy flowed into his body, knitting rent flesh and torn organs, causing flesh and bone and sinew to reconnect itself into the form it had been before.

***

"A squad of templars has arrived, Father," said the excited youth, "And Sir Cedric too!"

Even as he spoke, there was a knock on the door behind him. "You in there, Father?" called a familiar voice.

"Cedric!" said Shikuna, rising hurriedly to his feet. "Come in!"

Cedric entered, walking in a curiously hunched over fashion, carrying a sack in one hand.

"Are you hurt?" asked Shikuna, quickly moving towards him.

"No, I'm fine - well, mostly," was the reply. Looking at the waiting acolyte, Cedric said, "I'd like to speak to the Father alone."

The acolyte quickly bowed and left, but not without a couple of backward glances. And as soon as he was gone, Cedric shut the door behind him.

"What's wrong?" asked Shikuna. "And what happened? Did they get the..."

"No. But there are two things to do," said Cedric, before opening the bag and tossing a deadly-looking barbed spear to the ground. The spear shaft, however, was hacked short.

"We need to destroy this," said Cedric.

"Sure," said Shikuna. "What is the second thing? And why are you walking like that?"

Cedric looked slightly embarrassed and said, "Well, that's the same bloody thing." He twitched away his cloak and opened the front of his shirt, to reveal a four inch wooden shaft protruding from his stomach, and then turned to reveal another few inches sticking out of his lower back. There was no sign of a wound, healthy flesh holding the wood in place.

"What...?" asked Shikuna in bafflement.

Cedric looked even more embarrassed. "Let's just say someone poked me with that spear, and I couldn't take the shaft out before I healed myself. So..."

The Siege

“…can take our lives, but they’ll never take … our FREEDOOOOOMMM!!!”

Sir Orion raised his mailed fist in defiance of the enemy beyond his walls as his cry reverberated off the battlements. After a dramatic pause, he lowered his arm and looked down at the gathered soldiers, hoping for (and half expecting) a resounding cheer. He did get a cheer and a round of applause to boot, but it only came from Sir Gahon and the other young hotheads standing to the side, puffed up with pride with their dreams of chivalry and glory. The soldiers simply stood there stolidly, with expressions ranging from boredom to sheer, barely controlled, fear of the hordes without. Old Horstein, in the front row, leaned forward and carefully spat a stream of tobacco onto the ground before straightening up to lean on his pike again. Feet shuffled behind him, though naturally nobody had the temerity to leave.

Orion’s face did not show it, but his heart fell. We are doomed, he thought, and for all my brave words, they all know it. We’re outnumbered ten to one, and this keep isn’t strong enough to keep them out for more than a day. After that, it’ll be a slaughter. And from the looks on their faces, they’ll be surrendering as soon as the wall goes down – for all the good it’ll do them.

His face showed none of the thoughts as he turned away and headed down the steps to the small podium he’d been standing on. At the bottom, he looked at the young knights, drawing another unwonted cheer from them. But it was the laconic, “Good talk,” from the man standing some distance away from them that momentarily cheered him. Cedric nodded as the commander looked at him and then asked, “Mind if I say a few words?”

“Not at all,” said Orion. Come on, old friend – let’s see some of that magic. Please.

“Thanks.”

Cedric hitched his belt a little higher and trotted up the steps, before making a jaunty little jump onto the podium that drew a couple of chuckles from the crowd. His battered armor made him stand in sharp contrast to the commander in his shining mail, and the comparison was heightened as he plopped down on the platform’s edge, dangling his legs, and then raised a bottle to the crowd, before taking a hearty swig. The chuckles spread into a little ripple, and a couple of whispers started up.

“Ahhh!” said Cedric, after swallowing, “Now that really hit the spot!” He shook the bottle in a mock-threatening manner at the crowd and said, “If any of you bastards let bloody Kurgash’s horde get our booze, I’m really going to be pissed off!” Orion winced inwardly, but noticed that the chuckles were beginning to take on a regular tone. Even old Horstein’s lips were twisting in amusement.

Cedric waved an arm in Orion’s general direction and said, “If our commander doesn’t mind me saying so, I’ve got a little beef to pick with him. He gave you some erroneous information just now. They actually CAN take your freedom. In fact, considering what I know about Kurgash and his need for slaves for his mines up north, I’d say he’s positively looking forward to it.”

Orion’s eyes went a little wide, and he heard angry whispers from Gahon and his men. What the hell are you doing, Cedric? he thought, even as he noticed that the original chuckles had ceased completely.

“Of course,” continued Cedric, without skipping a beat, “Depending on how … er, cute you are, you might find that slavery doesn’t involve dying in the mines. Let’s just say that Kurgash’s ogres like man-flesh. And not just to eat, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.” Despite the claim, Cedric made a crude gesture to illustrate his point. There were a couple more chuckles from the crowd, but they sounded forced. Orion noticed that some of the younger men, including among the knights, had turned a pale shade of green.

Cedric took a quick swig, giving the idea time to percolate. Now think about that before you consider surrendering, he thought, before going on, “Of course – you could easily make sure that you don’t end up as a slave or as Big Harga’s boy-toy. Just get yourself

killed tomorrow. Shouldn’t be too difficult to do, actually. Just don’t defend yourself well enough and some hobgoblin will be bloody happy to cut you in half. Sure, it’ll be painful and all for a bit, but then you’ll be dead and won’t have to worry about slavery or freedom or anything like that. Peachy!”

Orion barely managed to restrain himself from rushing onto the platform. What in heaven’s name are you doing Cedric? he thought frantically. If they weren’t panicking before, they definitely will be now! Glaring back and forth at the assembled soldiers, he saw them exchange fearful glances, and ripples of uneasy mutterings began to spread.

The sound of Cedric’s bottle shattering on the stones drew Orion’s attention, and he saw that Cedric was back on his feet. “Unless you’re like me,” said Cedric, looking down at the scared men. “You see – I am a servant of the High Lord. And I’ve got a lot more important things to do than be killed by Kurgash’s trash. Or be a slave. Or, for that matter, get an ogre boyfriend.”

The last comment still drew a couple of chuckles, but Cedric spoke right over them. “I’m guessing that you’re like me. You walk like me, you talk like me, you drink like me – so I’m guessing you think like me. And I think there’s only one thing for us to do. We’re going to kill those bastards.” He continued without a pause, “You see, it’s quite simple. I don’t want to die. And if I’m alive and they’ve got me, I’m better off dead. So I’m just going to have to kill enough of them to make them think I’m not worth the effort. And the same goes for all of you. We’ve got to beat them so bad that they say, ‘Unholy crap – these sons-of-bitches aren’t worth dying for.’ You guys ain’t got to die for the king. You’ve just got to make those guys die for Kurgash.”

To his disbelief, Orion noticed a few nods in the crowd, followed by a couple of rumbles of agreement. One or two weapons were shaken. I don’t believe it! It’s working.

Cedric, meanwhile, had leaned over and beckoned the crowd closer. With puzzled expressions, they shuffled forward until they stood all around the podium. He leaned over with a conspiratorial grin and said, “Plus we’ve got the power. They’re just coming here to get our asses – metaphorically, well mostly, speaking. But we own our asses. And the one who owns the ass has a whole lot more power than the one who wants it.” He waved at the gathered people and said, “Ask any married man here.” And winked.

There was a split second of silence and then guffaws rang through the crowd, followed by a couple of cheers. Orion couldn’t help laughing himself, even as he noticed that Horstein was laughing and nodding his head so hard that tobacco juice was rolling out his mouth.

“So,” said Cedric, “Here’s what we do tomorrow. When Kurgash’s people get here, we give them the finger. And then when they get to our walls, we give them the finger again, only this time we give it to them with the rest of the fist and an arm’s-length of steel with it. And we’re doing that all day, and the next day, and the next … until they go home crying and tell stories about how we’re all such lousy dates.” More laughs and cheers rang out.

“Now I’m going to get off this podium and we’re all going to go get ready to kick some

ass tomorrow. Because they may try to take our lives and they may try to take our freedom, but the one thing they’ll never, ever take are our asses! I own my ass, dammit! Who owns your ass?”

Orion almost choked at the rousing cry of “I OWN MY ASS!” that rang out.

Cedric somersaulted to his feet, drawing more cheers. “And are you giving an ogre your ass?”

“HELL, NO!”

“So what are we going to make Kurgash kiss tomorrow?”

“WE’RE GOING TO MAKE HIM KISS OUR ASS!!”

Cedric laughed joyfully and leaped down from the podium, landing on his feet amidst the men, armor ringing out upon him. As he made his way through them, soldiers clapped him on the back and cheered. He reached the edge of the crowd and clapped Horstein on the rear, causing the old soldier to scowl theatrically and wave his pike, drawing another loud laugh from the men around.

Stepping out of the crowd, he walked towards Orion as the cheering soldiers began to disband. “I think they’re ready,” he said with a grin, looking at the commander’s expression. “And don’t worry – the historians will never remember that ‘Kiss my ass, Kurgash’ will be our battle-cry tomorrow. Well, probably not.”

Orion laughed as Cedric clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Now we better go do some planning. I really do want to make that bastard seriously regret ever ing with us.” He threw another look at Orion and added, “Metaphorically, of course.” As the grinning paladin turned away, Orion headed after him, feeling hope spring in his breast for the first time in days.

Philosophy

“So, Cedric,” said Orion, “What do you think of our chances?” Before his companion could reply, he shook an admonishing finger and added, “And no lying to make me feel better!”

Cedric grinned. “Come on – you know I never lie. Sure, I may not share some information, but I won’t lie.” His grin broadened. “Plus it’s too much hard work to come up with a lie, and any time you do, you’ve got to remember who you lied to, what the truth is, worry about whether they’ll find out about it, and so on. Too bloody complicated for me.”

Seeing the look in his friend’s eyes, he waved a hand in apology and said, “Yes, yes – I’ll quit rambling. So, what do I think of our chances?” His grin didn’t falter, but his tone softened slightly – “I think we’re dead.”

“Truly?” You are not kidding, are you, Cedric? thought Orion.

“Truly. This fort was never as strong as the sodding bureaucrats made it out to be and we have maybe two-thirds the men we need to hold it. Kurgash’s hordes are well-equipped and drastically outnumber us. We stand no chance of being reinforced, unless Gareth not only decides to ignore the king and break his leaguer, but pulls off a forced march that I’d have a bloody hard time making alone, leave alone with an army. Kurgash may not have anything in the way of siege engines – other than ogres hurling rocks, that is – but we’ve got no real way to keep his forces from the wall either. Let the wall be breached and we’ll last maybe a day or two. I expect we’ll sell our lives very dearly, but at the end, I expect we will sell them.”

Orion’s expression had grown steadily gloomier as Cedric calmly described the situation. As he considered that there was really no basis for argument, a thought struck him. “On a related note, then – why are you here?”

“Huh?”

Orion grinned mirthlessly at seeing Cedric taken off-guard for a moment. “Just what I said. Why are you here? You’re pretty sure we’re going to die and you’re probably right. I’ve got to be here, because I am the commander. This is my duty. But you decided to ride poor old Bo… Beobarius all the way here. Why? You couldn’t be missing me that much!”

Cedric threw back his head and laughed raucously, drawing curious looks from the pair of guards down at the far end of the otherwise empty hall. “You know, Orion, sometimes you can be a bit thick. Have you not met me?” The mirth disappeared from his face, but his eyes still twinkled, as if he was privy to an intensely private joke, as he added, “It’s quite simple, actually. You needed help. And since I couldn’t bring an army, I came alone. That’s it.”

“Yes, I get that, but what I don’t get is the rest of it. You came to help, right?”

“Yes.”

“But you expect that your help will very likely not change the fact that I will be killed here.”

“Also, yes.”

“And, in fact, you fully expect to die by my side.”

“God, you’re good. Go on – you’re giving me goosebumps.”

Orion ignored the comment and continued, “So you’re here to ‘help’ even though you expect that this help will be of no avail and will lead to your death. That makes absolutely no sense, even for you, Cedric. If our state is so completely hopeless, why choose to be part of it?”

Cedric held Orion’s gaze steadily for a moment, for speaking. His voice was dry but, for once, lacking the undertone of irony it usually held. “Because I should. My nation and

its people are under attack, and a friend of mine stands alone … well, relatively alone … before the onslaught. So I think I should help him. Whether my help will save him or not, whether success of failure are in the offing, whether I will garner fame and glory beside him or die in the mud on a hobgoblin’s pike, are immaterial. What matters is that the action is right. And at this moment, there is no place more right for me to be – my friend – than by your side.”

His voice was almost embarrassing in its sincerity and for a moment Orion could not meet his gaze, feeling a lump in his throat and a sting behind his eyes. Fighting off the reaction for a moment, he continued, speaking a little thickly, “Believe me, there are few people I would rather have by my side than you, but I still do not completely understand. Doesn’t the possibility of success or failure matter to you?”

“Not really. I am aware of them, and I will act to maximize the chances of success where possible, but at a fundamental level, they do not matter. What matters for me is to do what I should do, as well as I can, every moment of every day. Once I do that, I have a satisfaction in my actions that neither success nor failure can touch. And believe me, I know. I have plumbed the depths of failure before and will again – though this time it might be terminal. In the short term, can I help save you and your men’s lives? I certainly hope so, but I just as strongly expect that I will not. And in the long term, it is quite likely that my actions here cannot prevent the eventual fall of our nation. Even if we fight off a hundred invasions, some day, long after you and I are gone, a force may come forth that cannot be stopped, and it will wipe our land from the world. In the material sense, at that moment, everything you and I have done to protect it will be meaningless and futile. But that does not – and never will – impact our actions in this moment. Right here and now, in this moment, all that matters is that we should stand against the foe, even if it is a foe we cannot hope to defeat. And so, I do.”

“You know, Cedric, I don’t know if that makes you an incredible hero or a complete and utter fool.”

“Both. And neither. I’m just a man. But I am exactly the man I choose to be, doing exactly what I choose to do, in exactly the place that I choose to be. And I have been, for many years now. That is a joy worth dying for.”

“If you say so,” said Orion, looking unconvinced.

Cedric grinned. “Or maybe I’m just talking out my ass. What the do I know?” He winked and then jumped to his feet, “Time to stop talking philosophy and go check on the preparations, don’t you think? I have a couple of ideas to make things harder for Kurgash.”

As Orion rose to his feet too, Cedric looked inwards within himself, testing the truth of his words and himself, as he constantly did. Just as he had mentioned to Orion, he found the very real belief that he would be dead in a couple of days. There was a muted sense of sorrow at the impending loss of a life he truly loved and enjoyed, mingled with a greater sorrow at the place of eternal loss, sorrow and pain in the world. There was a complete and utter lack of fear, and a mild amusement at the lack thereof. And overlying it all was the never-ending joy he felt every day of his life at the fascinating beauty of the world, with all its facets and its mutability, and the utter adamantine

certainty of his place within it. Yes, he thought, as he followed Orion towards the door, It will be a pity to leave this world. But I could not choose otherwise and remain what I am.

The Siege

Sir Orion wiped away the sweat from his brow, as well as the blood leaking from beneath the bandage hastily applied to the spot where an eager bugbear had almost given him a tonsure. Turning to his companion, he asked, “So, how does it look to you?”

Cedric stood back from where he had been leaning over the battlements and turned a grimy, bloody face to Orion. He grinned and said, “Me? It looks like we’re ed.”

Orion shook his head. Something was slightly different about Cedric, but he couldn’t place it, and it had been bothering him all day. But nobody else seemed to notice anything and there wasn’t time for worrying about it anyway. “Stop joking. What do you mean?”

Cedric’s grin broadened. “All right, Mr. Happy Commander. It looks to me like we’re in worse trouble than I’d feared.” He lifted his sword and pointed at the enemy horde less than a bowshot from the walls, as the desultory flights of arrows flying to and from their ranks evidenced. “I hadn’t figured that Kurgash was actually sending quite so many troops.”

“Nevertheless,” said Orion, nodding at the dead goblinoids and ogres littering the space between the walls and the horde, some piled in heaps against the battlements, “We’ve inflicted some heavy losses. The men have stood to their task well.” He pointed at a couple of spots where blackened corpses lay in wide spirals around a central hole in the ground. “Your mines were brilliant.”

“Not brilliant enough, Orion. If they lose five to our one they’re still coming out ahead, and though we’ve done better than that so far, it’s not going to last when the breach occurs.”

“Are you sure that’s inevitable? The walls have stood so far.”

“They’d stand a lot longer if it wasn’t for those bloody rams. I should have considered that bastard Grond might throw in with Kurgash and start providing him with siege engines.”

“You can’t think of everything, Cedric.” Orion smiled, despite himself. “After all, you’re not perfect.”

Cedric chuckled, looked upwards theatrically and spread his arms. “See? I tell you that all the time, but do you listen? Nooooo!” Then he looked back at Orion and said, “Anyway, let’s get down there. The western corner is weak and I’ll bet they know it too. That’s where they’ll hit hardest next time, and I doubt it’ll stand another assault. Time to get Gahon and his shiny friends there and let them show what they can do when it

gives.”

A peal of war-drums marked the end of his speech, followed immediately by the thunder of hundreds of marching feet. “Looks like next time is here,” said Orion grimly, as he grabbed up his helm and headed for the stairs.

“Ah well,” called back Cedric, already a few steps ahead of him, “Time to do our best anvil impersonations.”

As he looked back at Orion, the latter stopped dead for a moment. As Orion gathered himself and hurried on, though his ears told him of the advance of the horde, his mind was focused elsewhere. He’d realized what was different about his friend. Though his smile and words were the same, since the morning Cedric’s eyes had been cold, gray and humorless, the eyes of someone who had only one aim and expectation - to kill and be killed. Orion shivered slightly as he followed his friend down to the battle.

***“Thank you, mas...,” gasped Horstein, before a flood of blood choked his last words. Cedric quickly, but gently, lowered the old soldier's corpse to the ground and then leaped to his feet, sword lashing out even as he rose to disembowel a charging hobgoblin.

“Hold them!” Cedric shouted, as he strode into the melee, “Do not let them pass!” Another goblinoid locked blades with him, snarling into his face, before Cedric's swiftly rising boot took it in the crotch and turned the snarl into a whimper that was cut off by his descending blade.

All around Cedric, soldiers were struggling to hold back the tide of foemen pouring through the breach. Though the limited space and the fact that the humans had marginally upper ground was helping them hold their own, the sheer weight of numbers was likely to soon prove decisive.

“Cedric!”

Cedric paused to throw a quick glance back, to see Orion standing beside the contingent of mounted knights waiting impatiently. Sir Gahon was at their head, heron banner flapping beside him, a look of combined excitement, pride and eager anticipation on his face.

“Now!” yelled Orion.

Cedric spun around to cut down another foeman and then yelled in his turn, waving his arms to make sure everyone heard. “Back! Back and to the sides!”

The relieved men broke from the melee as best they could, swinging wildly as they did to force their momentarily surprised foes back. The goblinoids and ogres paused for a moment in bewilderment as their enemies fell back and away, and then raised bloodthirsty howls of triumph as they came surging into and through the breach.

And right into the spears of the knights as they came hurtling down with all of their

momentum. Lances split hobgoblin skulls and ogre chests, while the bulk of the heavy horses knocked others down beneath the trampling hooves. Screams of fear and anger replaced the momentary shouts of triumph as the column of knights slammed through those who had entered the breach and into those clambering up the small slope to it. Surprised and not expecting to reach the foemen yet, many of these latter troops were cut down before they could raise a weapon.

Meanwhile, Cedric and his men had leaped back into the melee, joined by other soldiers, to dispatch those that had survived the charge. After a couple minutes of bloody extermination, Cedric looked up at Orion’s anguished shout of “No, NO! Come back, you fools!”

Rushing to the breach, Cedric looked down at a scene of complete carnage. Caught at a disadvantage, the troops immediately beyond the breach had been mowed down by the cavalry. Though not without loss, as the corpses of horse and rider attested. Nevertheless, the tactic had worked even better than hoped for, with a large space cleared before the wall and the large force that had concentrated on the breach scattered and fleeing back to the body of the horde. Even better, the three rams lay unattended nearby, left behind in flight.

But what wasn’t nearby was Gahon's force. They were halfway across the field, slaying as they went.

“Damn you, Gahon!” yelled Orion fruitlessly, almost crying in frustration. Turning to the second, smaller group of reserve horsemen, he quickly began, “Thalin! Take your troop after Ga...”, when he was cut off by Cedric. “No! You can’t send them after Gahon.”

“But they’ll be killed!”

“They’re already dead. Look!”

Orion turned to see Gahon's troop, still inflicting heavy losses, but now seeming diminished and much closer to the horde, the bulk of which was racing forward to swallow them. And on their flank, not engaging but rushing past so as to cut off a retreat, was a flying column of small figures on loping mounts.

“Worg-riders,” said Cedric. “They’ll never make it back, and anyone who goes to them is dead.”

“But we have to try! We can’t just leave them and watch them die!”

“We have to,” said Cedric calmly, but with finality. Looking up at Thalin he added, “I’m sending troops out to destroy the rams. If anyone approaches, ride them down. And return immediately.”

Thalin looked at Orion. “Commander?”

Orion swallowed and then nodded, “Yes. Yes, do as Cedric says.”

As Cedric spun away and began yelling orders, and Thalin and his troop moved forward, Orion headed towards a set of stairs near the breach, leading up to the battlements. Climbing up there, he joined the archers and other soldiers, standing in horrified fascination and looking down at the scene outside.

To Orion’s momentary surprise, Gahon’s riders were actually at a standstill. They’d cut down the foes immediately surrounding them and had evidently realized their predicament. The body of the horde was almost upon them, and two wings of light infantry had rushed out to flank them. Even if they could have fought past those, the wolf-riders were now in their rear, moving in to close the trap.

Orion saw tiny heads swing back and forth and thanked his stars that he couldn’t see their expressions. And then the riders began to move again. Instead of making a futile attempt to flee, they were heading into the main horde. There were gasps and cries from all around Orion, as the gleaming column crashed into the dark tide seeking to envelop it. As it did so, the infantry wings closed behind it.

The riders drove forward, cutting deeper and deeper as their numbers dwindled. Finally, there was only a tiny remnant, with nothing more than an eddy and a ripple in the ranks of their enemies to mark their presence, until gradually that too faded away. By then, however, neither Orion nor the people around him could bear to look any longer.

But as Orion headed slowly down the stairs, he saw Cedric standing silently in the breach, gazing expressionlessly out at the field where the riders were dying. As Orion neared him, Cedric turned to his friend. His face might as well have been carved out of stone, with neither sorrow nor pity nor any human emotion marking it.

In a voice that matched the face, Cedric said, “There’s a very thin line dividing heroism and idiocy.” I should know.