“No member, huh?” he asked.
Tarlak laughed. “I told you he wasn’t one any longer. We’ll reinstate him once this has blown over. Told you, I wouldn’t lie.”
“Such deception is close to a lie,” Aurelia said.
“Yeah, well, may Ashhur forgive me,” Tarlak said with a wink. “Now let’s get our friendly priest here back to somewhere warm and safe.”
They returned to their camps, and at their arrival many of the other priests of Ashhur, haggard and exhausted, lit up with new life at sight of their teacher. They cheered and sang songs of joy and triumph. Harruq, however, had little heart for it. He and Aurelia sneaked out from the tents, and with a little magic from Aurelia, passed through the two walls and out to the surrounding fields. With a few blankets for warmth, they huddled together and stared at the stars amid the quiet.
“I was wondering,” Harruq said as she nestled her head against his chest. “What would you have done if they decided to execute you?”
Aurelia shifted a little. “Knocked a few guards around, teleported out of the city, and then waited for you and Tar to find me.”
Harruq chuckled. “Good to know. Of course, I would have gone barging into the prison where you were held, smashed a few skulls, and ended up trapped there while you escaped all easy and magically.”
“And then Tarlak would have saved your butt and together you two would have fled, finding me,” the elf said. “See, the plan still works.”
“Excuse me,” said a soft, feminine voice from their side, startling both. They glanced over and saw Mira, her arms tucked behind her as if she were a little girl approaching a stranger. Her deep black eyes kept trying to meet Harruq’s gaze, but every few seconds she flitted them down to stare at her feet.
“I’m sorry to bother both of you,” she said. “I knew you’d be out here, because Aurelia, you’re magical and I… I’m sorry, I’ll go.”
“No,” Aurelia said, standing and offering her hand. “Stay with us. What brings you out here?”
“I won’t stay long,” she said, her whole body tilting forward so her black hair could cover her face. “I have something to say to Harruq. It’s stupid, though. I don’t think it means anything.”
“Just say it, girl,” Harruq said, trying to make his gruff voice sound soft as possible. “I’ve heard stuff from Tarlak far dumber than anything you could say.”
Mira smiled. “My mother said that this world needs a sign of faith,” she said. “I think it’s you.”
Harruq raised an eyebrow. “Um… huh?”
Her smile faded. “I told you it was stupid,” she said, turning to go.
“Wait,” Aurelia said. “Ignore my idiot husband. Is that all you have to say?”
Mira crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.
“No,” she said. “Mother hasn’t given up on us yet. It’s not hopeless. We can survive, we can live.” She suddenly looked up and stared at Harruq with incredible intensity, her eyes wide and her lips quivering as if her entire world depended on the half-orc’s next answer. “Do you believe that?” she asked. “I need you to believe that.”
He might have joked or laughed, but she was too serious, too intense, for him to do so. He felt his chest tighten, and he found himself uncomfortable and nervous.
“Yes,” he said. “I do believe that. I’ll die fighting to prove it.”
Mira smiled. He felt both their tensions ease.
“Good,” she said. “That’s all I needed.”
She turned, lifted her arms above her head, and then vanished in shimmering mist of shadows and smoke. Harruq stared at the grass until Aurelia nudged him with her elbow.
“Hrm?” he asked before realizing she was staring at him. “Oh, heh, that was odd, wasn’t it, Aurry?”
“I’ll say,” Aurelia said, trying to read her husband’s reaction. “Is something wrong, Harruq? You seem… not troubled, but like you’re arguing with yourself, and I would appreciate knowing why.”
“It’s nothing,” Harruq said.
“You’re lying.”
“Fine. It is something. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
Aurelia nudged him again. “Wife, remember?”
Harruq sighed. “Fine. It involves Bernard. He was willing to die for you. I need to talk to him, that’s all. Thank him.”
“You’re still holding back,” Aurelia said as she laid her head against his chest. “But I’ll let you get away with it for now.”
They let their conversation slip to lesser things, and from that, fade into nothing, just quiet comfort as together they shared the night.
T he next morning Harruq wandered through the camps, but after an hour of nothing, he finally asked one of the other priests.
“I believe he went to where our temple used to be,” the priest said. “I’m not sure the reason.”
Harruq thanked him and headed into the city. The people in the streets parted ways for him, several glaring at the very sight of him. He found this mildly interesting. Was it because he was from Neldar? An Eschaton? A half-orc? Or just armed and dangerous?
A passing child was kind enough to answer for him.
“Orc bastard!” he shouted.
“You’re not even ten,” Harruq said as the kid ran away.
He continued down the main road, feeling a little better. He was used to people hating him for his half-orc blood. Hating him for his nationality, that seemed a little bizarre. A meager comfort, however. His heart kept thumping too loud in his chest, and he had to fight the urge to turn and run every other minute. For whatever reason, he was terrified of talking with Bernard. At last he turned right and headed toward the smoldering pile of rubble and ash that had been the temple of Ashhur.
Bernard walked through the debris, shifting charred pieces of wood this way and that. His robes were smeared black and gray, and even his sweaty face was covered with ash.
“Hard work to do alone,” Harruq said, stepping into the rubble. “What are you looking for?”
“We didn’t have much,” Bernard said, holding his back with his hands as he straightened up, wincing at the popping his spine made. “But we had a few precious writings. I hoped they survived, but, as you can see…”
Harruq nodded. The fire had been intense. Hardly a piece of wood remained more than a blackened husk.
“I came to thank you,” Harruq said. Bernard waved him off.
“It was nothing,” the priest said.
“It was your life,” Harruq argued.
“Again,” Bernard said, chuckling at him. “Nothing.”
“How can you say that?” Harruq asked. “How can you offer your life for someone you don’t even know?”
“Harruq, are you blind?” the priest asked.
“I can see just fine,” the half-orc grumbled, feeling patronized.
“Then look around you. You fought and bled protecting thousands of people on their journey here. You offered your life for theirs, as did soldiers, fathers, mothers… Many died, others lived. How is what I did any different?”
Harruq opened his mouth, then shut it. He realized he had no argument that wouldn’t ring false.
“I’m sorry,” Harruq said. “Guess I might be a little blind.”
“Little?” Bernard asked, laughing. “Look around a second time. Tarlak is a good man, and he has assembled good people. They all would offer their life for yours. I suspect they already have.”
Harruq pursed his lips and nodded. In combat, it seemed so simple, so obvious, that each would risk their life for the other, but when the adrenaline faded, and life was quiet…
“You look like you’re struggling with something,” Bernard said. He rubbed sweat from his brow onto his sleeve, smearing more ash across his forehead. “I’ll aid, if you’ll let me.”
“Is it ever wrong to forgive someone?” Harruq finally asked.
Bernard tilted his head and thought for a moment.
“You’ve been hurt, haven’t you?” he
asked. “By someone you love. Have you already forgiven them, or still deciding if you should?”
“Already have,” Harruq said. “And it cost us dearly.”
“Then pay the cost,” Bernard said. “It is better than the alternative.”
“And what would that be?”
The priest put his hands on his hips and looked to the side.
“Think about it,” he finally said. “How many times have you been forgiven? By your wife, by Tarlak, by your friends and family? If you don’t forgive others, then why should they forgive you? All or nothing, that’s what Ashhur wants.”
“The only family I have is my brother,” Harruq said. “And he’s not one to forgive.”
“Then compare your life to his,” Bernard argued. “Is he happier? Kinder? A stronger person for it? Or is he weak and fragile, clinging to old wounds that refuse to halt their bleeding?”
Harruq didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. More and more a thought kept resurfacing, growing stronger with each passing day. He felt embarrassed, but he blurted it out.
“Karak is everything I cannot stand,” he said. “But Ashhur seems… would he accept a half-orc? My cursed blood?”
To this Bernard put a hand on Harruq’s shoulder and smiled.
“No matter your curse, your wretchedness, your anger or cowardice or malice, no matter your flaws and sins, he loves you,” Bernard said. “Give him your faith, and you will be rewarded. Deny him your faith, and he will still love you. There is nothing you can do to change that.”
Harruq nodded, his mind struggling to wrap around the words. Too simple, he thought. Far too simple.
“I need to go,” he said.
“Of course,” Bernard said, turning back to the remnants of his temple. Harruq watched him reach into the ash and scatter it about in search of something valuable. When he found nothing, he moved over a few more steps, bent down, and searched again. At that moment, the half-orc felt like the ash.
13
T he ground shook as if giants buried beneath the world were thrashing as they stirred. Above him the sky bled fire, waves of it falling to the horizon. He felt blood on his hands and tasted rot on his tongue. When he looked down and saw the dead child in his arms, chest ripped open by hundreds of squirming black worms, Qurrah allowed the nightmare to wake him.
He sat up and pulled his hood over his head as he looked around. They were surrounded by Thulos’s demons, most sleeping in blankets with their weapons at their sides. A few patrolled the area, giant torches in hand. One passed by, nodding in greeting.
“Why are you awake?” Tessanna asked, startling him. She hadn’t moved, and her eyes were still closed as if she were asleep.
“A dream,” he said. “Where is Velixar?”
Tessanna propped herself up on her elbow, her long hair cascading over her face.
“You know he doesn’t sleep,” she said. “And he certainly doesn’t keep us aware of his doings.”
“Shush then,” Qurrah said, glancing about the camp. “Follow me.”
Together they slipped through the camp, avoiding the patrolling guards and their torchlight. Near their camp stood thousands of undead, all raised from the murdered people of Neldar. They were perfectly still, awaiting Velixar’s orders. Qurrah grabbed Tessanna’s hand and pulled her through the rotting ranks. Several rows in, he stopped and turned to her, feeling safe enough to whisper.
“Mordeina is very close,” Qurrah said. “If Velixar is to regain leadership of Karak’s followers, he needs to do so soon.”
“How do you know it is tonight?” Tessanna asked. “You do this only because of your dream.”
“I don’t care,” the half-orc said. “Preston wants you dead. I feel it time we put his nuisance to an end.”
Tessanna giggled. “We’re going to be naughty tonight, aren’t we?” she asked.
Qurrah smiled at her. “We need to be careful. If things go bad, flee back to Ulamn.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
Qurrah put his hand on her abdomen, where a tight bulge had grown on her slender frame.
“You protect our child’s life then,” he said. “Leave me to die if you must.”
“So romantic,” she said. “Lead on, lover.”
They hurried past the undead, further and further south, to where the rest of the army camped. From behind the rotting body of a gigantic Veldaren soldier, they peered out at the first wave of guards. The tested patrolled the entire camp, holding torches in their bone hands. Their tents were placed in an outer ring, protecting the inner camps. Krieger’s paladins slept further inside, and at the very heart of it all were the priests. Qurrah scratched his chin, pondering the best method to enter.
“This won’t be easy,” he said. “Kill as few as possible. We don’t need the survivors rallying behind another in a desperate bid for vengeance against us and Velixar.”
“No fun,” Tessanna muttered, turning back to the few wandering tested. A wave of her hand and they slumped to the ground, fast asleep. “No challenge either,” she added.
“They’re just fodder,” Qurrah said, grabbing her hand. “What did you expect?”
They slipped through the outer ring of the camp, silent as a shadow. Tessanna had to cast her sleep spell only twice, both on tested that neared them during their slow patrol. Together they slipped inside a tent where three more slept. A wave of Qurrah’s hand and shadows crawled over their lips. Another spell and gray mist rose up from the dirt, latching around the three like a spider’s web. This startled them awake, but they could not move and could not make a sound. From inside the tent the two peered out, watching a lone dark paladin walk by.
“You know, Krieger’s always hated us,” Tessanna said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Qurrah said. “No killing them.”
“Fine.”
She yanked a chunk of dirt from the ground, blew across it, and then winked at Qurrah. The dirt shimmered red, and then it flew, propelled by some unseen force. It smacked the dark paladin square in the mouth, hard enough to snap his head back. Tessanna rushed out of the tent, her knife drawn. She jammed it into the neck of the paladin, who was busy struggling to pull the dirt out of his mouth. His body slackened immediately. She licked the blade, her eyes flaring wild at the taste of blood.
Qurrah glared but did not reprimand her. They hurried, knowing it would not be long before someone noticed the dead guard. That hurrying cost them, however, for Qurrah tripped, stumbling and rolling beside the priests’ tents. He froze, waiting for someone to awake, and that was when he realized just how quiet the camp was. No snoring. No stirring in the night. He got to his knees and yanked open the flap of the nearby tent. Empty.
“What’s going on?” Tessanna asked. She crossed her arms and looked about, suddenly shy and nervous. “Where are they, Qurrah?”
The half-orc closed the flap and stood. “I don’t know,” he said. “But something’s not right. We need to find out what, and fast.”
He took her hand, and together the two ran toward the center of the camp. As they approached, they saw rows of torches, the light growing incredibly bright. Priests and dark paladins held them, forming a giant arc encircling a clearing. In spite of all their numbers, they were remarkably silent. Qurrah could hear Preston talking to them, his voice rising and falling in inflection and urgency. He couldn’t make out his words, not yet, but in his gut he knew what was going on. There was only one possibility.
“They’ve captured Velixar,” Qurrah said. “Or plan on doing so soon. We need to get closer.”
“Hold my hands,” Tessanna said. “I’ll get us there, like a good girl. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
He took her hands and nodded. Tessanna closed her eyes and whispered the words of magic to her spell. The shadows cast by the torchlight suddenly shrank in on themselves, crawling around their legs and waist as if they were alive. Qurrah felt his skin tingling. He clutched Tessanna’s hands as h
is entire vision went dark.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Trust me,” Tessanna said. “And shush, or you’ll let the bad men know we’re here.”
He waited, completely in the dark. Tessanna resumed her magical incantations. The darkness in front of his eyes faded to gray, then white, and then finally a reddish gold. Her words ended, and then he felt his stomach lurch as his entire world shifted at an angle. He saw Preston, and heard his words as if he were a foot away. It looked as if he were staring up from the dirt, and as Preston moved he fought away a wave of nausea, for his entire perspective shifted and reformed with each step the priest took. At last Qurrah figured out where he was watching from. He was inside Preston’s shadow.
Qurrah strained, and he felt his perspective shift. All around were paladins and priests of Karak. Their faces were somber, their eyes dark and tired. Tied to a stake before them was Velixar. His arms were behind his back, his hands wrapped with two different ropes. His feet were bound. He wasn’t gagged, but still he remained silent. Only his eyes moved, watching Preston pace.
“Karak has always warned about pride,” Preston said. “He has always warned that no matter who we are, how great we think we might be, we can always fall. We can always succumb to lies, to fear, and to chaos. That is what has happened, my brothers! That truth you now look upon.”
Velixar opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Preston ignored him.
“Since the dawn of our time Velixar has done Karak’s will,” the priest said. “He was given tremendous power, and a life that will be akin to ours when we die. But judge a tree by its fruit, says our lord! What has Velixar done? What has this supposed hand of Karak ever done?”
“Chaos!” shouted one of the priests.
“That’s right!” Preston said, pointing at the priest. “He has sown war at every turn. He has stirred up the creatures of the wedge and let them murder and ravage. And now, when victory was within our grasp, he harbored a paladin of the enemy, and still gives free reign to a daughter of the whore.”
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