The Cost of Betrayal (Half-Orcs Book 2)

by David Dalglish

  She nodded. A hand wiped away her tears. When they were gone, so too was her emotion. The girl of apathy had returned.

  “I will await you here,” she said. She took the blankets and spread them out in the corner. Without another word, she nestled in, pressed her head against the pillow, and tried to sleep. Qurrah stared at her, his skin hot and his mind blurred.

  “Tessanna,” he said, his voice full of fear.

  “Go home,” she interrupted. “My dreams are dark. I do not want you hurt. Go home.”

  He did, cursing himself every step of the way.

  Qurrah,” Harruq grumbled in a drowsy voice. “That you?”

  “I had trouble sleeping,” his brother said, sliding into bed.

  “You sure nothing-”

  “I am fine,” he said, sharper than he meant. His throat throbbed, his head ached, and his heart thumped as if it were to explode.

  “Brother?” Harruq asked, rising from his bed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Go to bed, Harruq,” Qurrah said. “I will explain in time.”

  The big half-orc shrugged. “If you say so.”

  Qurrah put his back to him and stared at the wall. His thoughts never left Tessanna, even when he slipped into the world of dreams.

  My dear Eschaton, we have ourselves a beauty of a task,” Tarlak said to the collected mercenaries of the tower. They grouped together on the first floor, the two females sprawled across the couches, the men sitting unhappily on the floor, except for Haern, who haunted the stairs leading upward.

  “How’s the pay?” asked Brug.

  “No pay for this one. Charity stuff here.” Tarlak scratched his goatee, his eyes glancing over to Haern. “We do this one for the Watcher.”

  “Not to sound dumb, but who is this Watcher?” Aurelia asked. The yellow wizard turned to her and beamed.

  “I would gladly tell you, my dear-”

  “I am,” Haern whispered, interrupting him. “I keep the thief guilds in line.”

  Both half-orcs glanced at him with shocked faces.

  “You’re the Watcher?” Harruq said. “Holy orcbutt, no wonder you beat me so bad.”

  “Holy orcbutt?” Delysia asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Harruq shrugged.

  “Got the point across.”

  “So now I know who the Watcher is,” Aurelia said. “But how exactly do you keep the thief guilds in line?”

  “Lovely Aurelia, do you have no knowledge of how the guilds operate in Veldaren?” Tarlak asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Who wants to inform the girl?” Tarlak asked the crowd.

  “Twelve years ago,” Haern began, “the noble families in Veldaren declared war on the thief guilds. After five years of mercenaries roaming the streets and nobles bleeding out in the night, they made a truce. The nobles would pay the thief guilds what they were paying the mercenaries. In return, they gained protection, and not just for their homes, but the entire city. Five guilds accepted, and the rest were eradicated. Odd as it sounds, the thief guilds protect their territory, and only the poorest of streets are left to a few vagabond burglars.”

  “So you have no crime here?” Aurelia asked. “A miracle.”

  “We have crime, my lady elf,” Haern whispered, “just no robbery. Murder and rape are another matter.”

  “Many thieves want to return to the days of old,” Tarlak added. “They feel like bodyguards now, bottom rate sentries. The number of members in each guild has doubled and tripled, with each member getting a smaller and smaller cut. Only guildmasters make a luxurious living. This leads me into our wonderful surprise for tonight.”

  He cleared his throat and grinned at everyone.

  “Guildmaster Thren Felhorn of the Spider Guild is to supposedly be assassinated tonight.”

  “Supposedly?” Brug said.

  “I say supposedly for I believe it a trap. All of you need to be on your toes. The largest obstacle to returning to the days of old is not the guildmasters. It is our dear friend, Haern. Those who speak out against the current system have a way of not waking up. Isn’t that right, oh wise and all-knowing Watcher?”

  “Get on with it,” Haern said.

  “Right. My informant claimed that Thren is meeting a higher up of the Shadow Guild, about what is irrelevant, inside an old warehouse owned by the Spider Guild. I want half of you inside that building, the other half out and around. We’ll hide best we can. If it is a trap, leave one or two of them alive. It’s hard to make dead people talk.”

  “But not impossible,” Qurrah said. All eyes went to him. He had seemed mentally absent the whole meeting, and had not previously spoken.

  “I take it conversing with dead is a hobby of yours?” Tarlak asked.

  “I consider it a profession. The dead talk same as the living, and the dead can’t lie.”

  Brug made a show of throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes. “Wonderful people you brought into our fold, Tar.”

  “Shut up, Brug. I’ll leave it up to you all, then. Kill if you want, but let’s not be sloppy or stupid.” Tarlak started packing his maps. “Meet in this room by nightfall. And come prepared. Tonight, we’re going to have some fun!”

  Qurrah spent the day meeting with Tessanna. He brought food wrapped in another small blanket for her to use during the chilly nights. She was sitting outside when he arrived, staring at the sky.

  “I almost took a quick trip to the fountain,” she said, her voice distant and emotionless. “But I figured I am too popular with certain men right now.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. He unwrapped the pieces of bread, bacon, and hard cheese. She blinked at it and shook her head.

  “I don’t need to eat, at least, not often,” she said. “Bring me something three mornings from now.” She held up her right hand, showing him a simple wooden band around her ring finger. “It looks plain,” she said, her voice almost bored. “My family handed it down for generations. It helped them survive famine. I only have to eat once every six days.”

  Qurrah sat down opposite her. He awkwardly fumbled for words, for he had many questions, and he wished to ask them all at once.

  “Where is your family?” he finally asked.

  Her black eyes grew darker, the white at the edges deepening to gray.

  “I have no family,” she said. The apathy slowly faded into anger. An animalistic being controlled the girl’s voice. “My mother died giving birth to me. My father died later, along with my stepmother. I have no family.”

  His body shivered at the sound of her voice, but he pressed on. She had pried into his mind. It was his turn to do the same.

  “Tell me, Tessanna. What happened to them?”

  She brought her gaze down from the sky. “You want to know? Fine. I didn’t kill my stepmother, but he thought so. He drank a lot because of it. I can’t blame him though, considering what he came home to.” As she talked, Qurrah watched as the angry girl seamlessly turned shy and quiet. “We lived in the King’s forest. Daddy owed lots of people money, so we hid out there in our tiny cabin. Daddy gambled. He came back here, though, said he was going to make lots of money. Lots and lots of money!”

  “Well,” she continued, clutching her hands together and batting her eyelashes at him. “Daddy didn’t make enough, so bad people took him, made him work real hard. He couldn’t come home and see me and mommy! He needed to, because mommy got sick. I was still young, and she was too sick to leave and buy food for us. So she gave me this ring. She starved to death after a few weeks.”

  She giggled.

  “I didn’t have to eat often because of the ring, but when I did, I was famished. But we had nothing! So-” another giggle, “-I ate what I had to.”

  The vision Tessanna had shown him, of a female arm in his lap, and the taste of blood on his lips, darted across Qurrah’s mind. He shuddered. It seemed he was not the only one who had been forced to eat the scraps of the dead.

  “Daddy came home and saw me eating,” she said. “He th
ought I killed mommy. He was finally free, and he came home wanting mommy, but mommy was gone. He told me there was stuff I could do for him, though, stuff mommy used to do.”

  Another image, the rough man tearing at his clothes, sank Qurrah’s stomach. Hatred burned in his heart.

  “What happened to him?” he asked.

  Tessanna crawled closer and whispered as if telling a great secret.

  “He liked humping me. He drank all the time, probably because if he wasn’t drinking he’d realize how bad it was to take your thirteen-year-old daughter to bed. I did it, though. Maybe I liked it. It feels awfully good inside you.” She laughed at Qurrah’s blush. “He never even bothered to tell me he loved me. He hated me. I knew it, so he never lied. I think sometime over those two years he broke my mind.”

  Again that insane laugh. Qurrah’s heart tore at the sound. Part of it was adorable. The other part was pure madness, and it frightened him beyond words. She continued, her voice dropping into an even quieter whisper.

  “One night I had a plan. I made it seem like I wanted it, even liked it. Aren’t I such a horrible liar? He got really, really drunk that night. When he was done with me, he drank even more, and fell asleep in a chair. I took some rope and I tied his hands and feet. He couldn’t get out. I tied his neck, too. I didn’t want him moving, because that would ruin the fun.”

  “Fun?” Qurrah asked. “Torture is what that man deserved.”

  “Torture is fun,” she said. She didn’t smile that time. Qurrah considered fleeing then, but he didn’t. He wanted to hear the end of the story.

  “I crushed some glass into tiny pieces and shoved them in his mouth. He woke up choking, but I didn’t stop. I sewed his mouth shut. I had practiced, but with flesh you have to be forceful. Once he couldn’t spit out the glass, the real fun started. Lots of fun. Two years worth of fun.”

  She looked to the ground, her face suddenly blushing.

  “I kissed his neck just before he tried swallowing the glass. I’m not sure why.”

  “He died choking on his own blood,” Qurrah said more than asked. The final image took its turn before his eyes, that of the rough man vomiting intestines filled with shards of glass.

  “Shhhh,” Tessanna said through clenched teeth. “It’s a secret.” She leaned back, smiling into her hand. “And don’t you tell anybody.”

  “I promise I will not,” Qurrah said. He stood and stretched his arms. “I must go. Will you be fine spending a few more days here?”

  “Will you come visit me?” she asked. She curled her legs to her chest and peered over her knees. Qurrah would have done anything she asked, she was so beautiful.

  “Of course. Every day. I promise.”

  She lowered her head, as if in hiding.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?” Qurrah asked.

  “You know what. If you don’t, you’re dumber than I thought.”

  The half-orc chuckled, glad to hear the edge of sarcasm. She seemed sanest when she was being sarcastic. He bid her farewell and returned to the tower.

  6

  Why do I have to be stuck with the orcs?” Brug grumbled in the quietest tone he could manage, which was not very quiet at all. They hid near where the assassination was to take place, and Tarlak had just outlined the groups. Naturally, the wizard was to be alone with Aurelia.

  “Because you’re so short,” Tarlak said. “And all short people must suffer. It is the Eschaton way.” Tarlak’s grin faded when he realized Brug was not amused. “Listen, Haern stays on his own, because he works best that way. Delysia remains safe until it is all over and done, and she can heal whoever needs it. Aurelia and I will sneak in through the roof, and that leaves you three watching from the streets.”

  “How come I can’t be with Aurelia?” Brug whined. “She needs a melee fighter in case something goes wrong.”

  “It appears you have competition, brother,” Qurrah said, an amused expression on his face.

  “Bah,” Harruq said. “With the mage or the short guy? Either way, I’m not too worried.” Both turned and glared. He grinned back. “Hello! Aurry’s going without you, so one of you better go.”

  He pointed to the elf, who was twenty feet in the air and climbing, courtesy of a levitation spell. Tarlak patted Brug on the head. “Looks like you can’t follow. Good luck. Save our asses if we screw up.”

  He cast a spell, his feet bumped an inch off the ground, and then he followed Aurelia. Harruq put his hand on Brug’s shoulder as the three stared.

  “A shame,” he said. “Look on the bright side, though. You can almost see up Aurry’s dress from here.”

  Brug’s face turned beet red. “One day,” he snarled. “Just…one day…you’ll see.”

  Tarlak landed on the roof, beside Aurelia.

  “Gorgeous night,” he said. “A perfect time to spend with a beautiful woman.”

  “Hope you have enough coin on you,” she said.

  “I said with, not on,” Tarlak corrected. Aurelia shrugged.

  “Whatever. I take it the three mummers are guarding the southern entrance?”

  Tarlak nodded.

  “Haern should be watching the other, which leaves the roof to us.”

  “Time to vanish,” Aurelia said.

  The two faded from view as they cast their invisibility spells. The roof was flat and bare, leaving them no other options for hiding. With all ways into the building covered, there was nothing to do but wait. Twenty minutes later, a lone man appeared, circled the building, and then dashed away.

  “A scout,” Tarlak explained. Aurelia glanced down the alley, and from her vantage point, noticed Harruq’s shoulders peeking out from behind a few conveniently placed crates.

  “I think Haern needs to teach Harruq a thing or two about stealth,” she said. Tarlak laughed.

  “Stealth? If he isn’t screaming and wrecking stuff before the fight, I’ll be thrilled.”

  She tried to jab him with her finger but missed. “Next time I see you, you are getting such a hard poking.”

  “Be gentle, I am a delicate creature.”

  Tarlak suddenly stiffened. The elf could not see his posture change, but the abrupt silence quieted her as well.

  “The Shadow Guild,” the wizard whispered a moment later. Down the street walked a man, flanked by ruffians dressed in black leather. Blue scarves covered their faces. The man wore a suit of polished leather armor with silver runes shining across his sleeves and neck. His scarred face showed the price of his position. They marched to the northern door, opened it, and went inside.

  “Odd,” Tarlak murmured. “No checking. No searches.”

  “More come from the south,” Aurelia said. Another group, this time adorned in pure gray clothes and armor, the black spider emblazoned on their clothing, traveled up the street. In their center walked a young man, his face covered by a hood pulled low.

  “They look so much like Haern,” she said.

  “He was to be their prized assassin,” Tarlak whispered. “Reared from birth to be silent and unseen. The Spider Guild planned complete conquest of the other guilds, and then dominion over Veldaren’s streets.”

  Aurelia observed their silent movements shrouded by their long gray cloaks. They did not move like men. She shivered. “What stopped them?”

  “They underestimated Haern. They thought his mind enslaved to their dogma. A certain red-headed girl saved him.”

  “Delysia?”

  A soft chuckle escaped the invisible wizard’s throat.

  “Aye. He may not look it, but a small gold emblem of the mountain hangs from his neck. Ashhur saved him. In turn, Haern has saved us a hundred times over.”

  The group of men reached the warehouse, opened the door, and marched inside. The door slammed shut behind them.

  “Fun time. Do you know pass-wall?”

  Aurelia shook her head, and then laughed when she realized the wizard would not be able to see. “No, I don’t,” she said.


  “Very well, I was prepared for that. Um, hrm. Say something, I need to grab your hand.”

  “Over here.”

  She reached out her hands and slowly searched the air.

  “Here?” he asked.

  “To your left.”

  “You mean here?”

  “Other left. My left, wait, never mind, that won’t work will it?”

  “Here you are.” A hand suddenly wrapped around her waist. “Found you.”

  “Unfind me right now, mister wizard.”

  “Why should I do that?” was his flirty reply.

  “Mudskipper.”

  The hand vanished. Fingers wrapped around her arm, then slid to her wrist. From her left, she heard spellcasting. A tingling sensation flowed all the way to her toes. Suddenly, it felt like the ground beneath her feet vanished. She started to fall, but the firm grip on her wrist held her steady.

  “Levitate for Ashhur’s sake, woman!” Tarlak said loud as he dared.

  She closed her eyes and did the semantic components with her right hand. When the final words left her tongue, she floated up and off the ceiling.

  “You have about a minute left,” Tarlak said. “Float on down and stay at the top of the room. I’ll be beside you.”

  “No more whispering,” Aurelia said before dipping down. “They might hear.”

  Then she was falling through the ceiling.

  Time to go?” Harruq asked.

  “That’s just one group, no clue when others are showing up,” Brug argued from behind his barrel. “We wait until we get ourselves a signal.”

  “What kind of signal is that?”

  “Fire, screams, writing in the sky,” said Qurrah.

  “Funny,” Brug grumbled.

  “You’re not laughing.”

  “Because it ain’t funny!”

  “Stop lying then, and you’re being far too loud,” Harruq said. “How about we wait five more minutes?”

  If anyone was bothering to count, and Qurrah was, it was the fifth time Brug’s face turned beet red from anger, embarrassment, or both.

  “Both parties have arrived,” a voice whispered from behind them. “And I know of two-year-olds that make less noise than you three.”