Strife & Valor: Book II of The Rorke Burningsoul Saga by Regina Watts (red queen ebook .TXT) 📕

possible…Matrimony and Extreme Unction being foremost among them. Seeing as I have always found Elishta-bet to be incredibly lovely, I volunteered for the former. Hopefully it will not yet come to the latter.”

Trembling, Elishta burst into the motion of a startled bird. I nearly cried out as she darted between me and Zweiding on her way back down the passage to the curling stairs. Fury burning in my breast, I told my Commander, “Can’t you see she wants no part in this?”

“The pairing has already been approved by the administrative board.”

“But surely, Commander, you could examine your conscience and—”

“My conscience tells me that the world has no room for another dangerous heretic driven mad by magical powers she has not earned…and that, if I want to see such danger stamped out, I had ought to commit to the task of her reformation. If you were any suitable fit to the Order, you would agree with me—just as you, rather than consenting to come along with them as their chattel, you would have eradicated the durrow who helped you for their own benefit.”

You are being lied to, Eradicator.

My eyes squeezed shut.

“I won’t let you do this,” I told him, pushing to the back of my mind all the consequences that surely awaited me for this.

A scoff rose from Zweiding’s chest. He now looked at me not with derision but stern displeasure. “Oh?”

“I can’t stand idly by and permit even you, Commander, to force a woman into a marriage against her will.” My stomach tightened as I went on, but I had no choice. “Not even if the Church says that is what is necessary. Weltyr himself would consider such a union a woeful sin—I’m sure of it.”

Speaking as though unable to control my tongue, (and certainly not able to hear the priest behind me, who softly uttered my name as though to plead that I stop), I placed my hand upon Strife’s pommel.

“Commander Zweiding, I challenge you to a duel for the sake of Elishta-bet.”

Expression all the darker, Zweiding hooked his thumbs in his silver belt. “Do you, now?”

“If I win, you must release Elishta-bet from her obligation to marry you.”

“And if you lose?”

“Then I will never set eyes on her again. I will mind my own business and say nothing of the union, which must, in the case of my loss, be for the benefit of Weltyr…but I do not believe that will prove to be the case.”

The raven from before hacked out a laugh that carried through the rectory. Ignoring it, Zweiding responded coolly.

“That will be the very least of your forfeits. A place in the Order will be among them, Burningsoul. Are you sure you wish to challenge me?”

I had the feeling my place in the Order would be dubious regardless of whether I won or lost. Certainly, unless I acquired the Scepter soon, it already was.

“Yes,” I told him, knowing only the deep fury that filled me to think of Elishta-bet conscripted into this loathsome arrangement. “The challenge stands. Choose the time and place and you will find me there.”

“You always were a foolhardy boy, Burningsoul. Very well. I’ll give you…three full days to come to your senses. Should you still wish to throw your years of training—your whole life—into the gutter for the sake of a heretical woman, I will meet you in the gardens before our Temple on the dawn of the fourth day.”

“Then you will see me there, Commander,” I told him. “And I pray to Weltyr that you will not bear the burden of ill feelings if the All-Father should prove my cause more just than yours.”

With a snort, Zweiding looked hard into my face and, saying nothing, exited in the same direction as Elishta-bet. I struggled to avoid following him. Thankfully, Fortisto was there to place his hand upon my shoulder.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Rorke,” said the old man, his expression grim. “I dislike the idea of Elishta’s reformation as much as you, but—”

Outraged, I said, “I’ve never heard of such a thing! How could the clergy ordain practice so barbaric?”

“Order recruits and young Church members alike are shielded from such nuances of the faith,” he confessed, shaking his head sadly. “Generally, once a paladin learns of them, he’s already been confirmed and battle-proven, and he is much too devoted to the protection of the Church to think twice…therefore, it never changes. The practice is traditional, extending back many centuries to, oh, several wars, when concubines taken amid the spoils required education in the ways of their new faith.”

My jaw hung open only wider. “Is this not the very practice of slavery for which we people of the surface claim to despise the durrow? For which our Church has called the whole species heretical?”

Still quite grim-faced, Fortisto said, “That is, I should say, only the foremost reason why the dark elves are so despised by the Order…but, populated as it is by brutes worse than Zweiding, I must admit your branch of the faith has no particular love for anything but itself. It has no patience for other faiths, species, or thoughts. We share the same roof, and our god bears the same name…but there are times when I wonder if we are, in any sense, part of the same organization.”

I overflowed with questions about such a disturbing revelation from which my childhood had shielded me, but the old priest was already heading back into his office. As I followed him, he adjusted the reading glasses he’d put on to study the runes.

“Now—if I’m reading our Lord’s will correctly, it seems you’ll find what you seek in this area, or thereabouts…”

Of all districts, he pointed to the one where we stayed. My heart leapt with hope and I caught his shoulder in enthusiasm. While Fortisto laughed merrily as I told him, “Of course, the slums—Grimalkin hates to spend money even more than Odile.”

“Odile?”

“A friend.” I hesitated, guarding the truth only because of my conversation with Zweiding. “Someone from the