fumbled awkwardly for his warhammer, but Tirion was too fast. He rammed his shoulder into Barthilas’ gut and sent the young Paladin careening wildly off the platform. Barthilas landed with a loud thud and was nearly trampled by the raging crowd.
The hooded hangman rushed forward to overpower Tirion, but the former Paladin stood his ground. Grabbing the hangman by the arm, Tirion flipped him over his shoulder and sent him tumbling down the scaffolding’s steps. He could hear the knights and footmen charging up the steps behind him.
They would hang him for this,
he thought frantically. Not even the Lightbringer himself could pardon Tirion for this affront.
As quickly as he could, Tirion ran over to Eitrigg and unfastened the noose around the orc’s neck. Left too weak to stand, Eitrigg slumped heavily into Tirion’s arms. The orc barely recognized his savior’s face.
“
Human
?” Eitrigg mumbled questioningly. Tirion smiled down at him.
“Yes, Eitrigg,” Tirion said. “It’s me.” Eitrigg shuddered in pain and exhaustion, but fixed Tirion with his hazy gaze.
“You must be crazy,” the old orc said. Tirion laughed to himself and nodded in agreement. He turned just in time to see Barthilas climbing up over the edge of the scaffolding. Tirion knew that the knights and footmen were only seconds away. Barthilas straightened and glowered at him.
“Traitor! You have damned yourself this day!” the young Paladin screamed. The shocked crowd yelled their assent and began throwing garbage at Tirion and Eitrigg both.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tirion could see Lord Dathrohan looming in the background. Apparently, he hadn’t left after all. The Lord Commander’s face was a mask of grief and revulsion. Tirion wished there was some way to make his old friend understand that what he was doing, he was doing for honor’s sake.
Barthilas yelled for the knights to seize Tirion and the orc. As they approached, Tirion stretched out his hand and commanded them to halt. He had spent his life leading men into battle and his deep voice still carried the weight of command. Many of the knights who had served under him previously found themselves cowed by his presence. Tirion faced them boldly.
“Hear me!” Tirion shouted. His voice boomed out over the crowd and reverberated against the surrounding structures. Many of the onlookers fell strangely silent. “This orc has done you no harm! He is old and infirm. His death would accomplish nothing!” The honorable knights paused for a moment, considering Tirion’s protests.
“But it’s an orc! Are we not at war with its kind?” one of the knights yelled incredulously. Tirion steadied himself and tightened his grip on Eitrigg.
“We may very well be! But this one’s warlike days are over!” Tirion said. “There is no honor in hanging such a defenseless creature.” He saw that a few of the knights nodded reluctantly. The rest of the onlookers remained to be convinced. They continued to jeer and call Tirion an orc-loving traitor.
“You’re not fit to even speak of honor, Tirion,” Barthilas spat angrily. “You’re a traitorous mongrel who deserves to die right beside that inhuman beast!”
Tirion tensed. Barthilas’ words hit him like a slap in the face. “I took a vow, long ago, to protect the weak and defenseless,” Tirion said through gritted teeth, “and I intend to do just that. You see, boy, that’s what it truly means to be a Paladin—knowing the difference between right and wrong and being able to separate justice from vengeance. You’ve never been able to make those distinctions, have you, Barthilas?” Tirion asked. Barthilas nearly choked with rage.
Above the din of the shouting crowd, a single beating drum boomed out loud and clear. Eitrigg’s weary head jerked up suddenly. He scanned the square’s periphery as if he expected to see a familiar sight, then bowed his head again. Tirion looked at the orc questioningly, certain that the orc
The hooded hangman rushed forward to overpower Tirion, but the former Paladin stood his ground. Grabbing the hangman by the arm, Tirion flipped him over his shoulder and sent him tumbling down the scaffolding’s steps. He could hear the knights and footmen charging up the steps behind him.
They would hang him for this,
he thought frantically. Not even the Lightbringer himself could pardon Tirion for this affront.
As quickly as he could, Tirion ran over to Eitrigg and unfastened the noose around the orc’s neck. Left too weak to stand, Eitrigg slumped heavily into Tirion’s arms. The orc barely recognized his savior’s face.
“
Human
?” Eitrigg mumbled questioningly. Tirion smiled down at him.
“Yes, Eitrigg,” Tirion said. “It’s me.” Eitrigg shuddered in pain and exhaustion, but fixed Tirion with his hazy gaze.
“You must be crazy,” the old orc said. Tirion laughed to himself and nodded in agreement. He turned just in time to see Barthilas climbing up over the edge of the scaffolding. Tirion knew that the knights and footmen were only seconds away. Barthilas straightened and glowered at him.
“Traitor! You have damned yourself this day!” the young Paladin screamed. The shocked crowd yelled their assent and began throwing garbage at Tirion and Eitrigg both.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tirion could see Lord Dathrohan looming in the background. Apparently, he hadn’t left after all. The Lord Commander’s face was a mask of grief and revulsion. Tirion wished there was some way to make his old friend understand that what he was doing, he was doing for honor’s sake.
Barthilas yelled for the knights to seize Tirion and the orc. As they approached, Tirion stretched out his hand and commanded them to halt. He had spent his life leading men into battle and his deep voice still carried the weight of command. Many of the knights who had served under him previously found themselves cowed by his presence. Tirion faced them boldly.
“Hear me!” Tirion shouted. His voice boomed out over the crowd and reverberated against the surrounding structures. Many of the onlookers fell strangely silent. “This orc has done you no harm! He is old and infirm. His death would accomplish nothing!” The honorable knights paused for a moment, considering Tirion’s protests.
“But it’s an orc! Are we not at war with its kind?” one of the knights yelled incredulously. Tirion steadied himself and tightened his grip on Eitrigg.
“We may very well be! But this one’s warlike days are over!” Tirion said. “There is no honor in hanging such a defenseless creature.” He saw that a few of the knights nodded reluctantly. The rest of the onlookers remained to be convinced. They continued to jeer and call Tirion an orc-loving traitor.
“You’re not fit to even speak of honor, Tirion,” Barthilas spat angrily. “You’re a traitorous mongrel who deserves to die right beside that inhuman beast!”
Tirion tensed. Barthilas’ words hit him like a slap in the face. “I took a vow, long ago, to protect the weak and defenseless,” Tirion said through gritted teeth, “and I intend to do just that. You see, boy, that’s what it truly means to be a Paladin—knowing the difference between right and wrong and being able to separate justice from vengeance. You’ve never been able to make those distinctions, have you, Barthilas?” Tirion asked. Barthilas nearly choked with rage.
Above the din of the shouting crowd, a single beating drum boomed out loud and clear. Eitrigg’s weary head jerked up suddenly. He scanned the square’s periphery as if he expected to see a familiar sight, then bowed his head again. Tirion looked at the orc questioningly, certain that the orc
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