Twin lions carved of stone flanked the entrance. They were reared back on their hind legs, their front paws raking the air. Their mouths were forever open in a roar of battle. Three arches made of giant stones wedged together formed the bridge’s structure. The first arch began where the ground sloped toward the river, and the third ended atop the bank on the far side. Two giant pillars marked where the arches met above the water. Qurrah had heard that the hand of Karak himself lifted and placed the stones into the water, and seeing its size, he held little doubt to its truth.
Carved into the pillars was a giant man standing beside another lion. Qurrah recognized the image, for he had seen a similar one when he visited the priests of Karak back in Veldaren. The top of the bridge was smooth flat stone. Along its edges were three more arches, significantly smaller than the ones underneath. The entire bridge was a chalky white, though in patches throughout there remained the golden color it had once been.
“Pelarak mentioned this in his journal,” Qurrah said as he and Tessanna stared in awe. “He wrote that many of his order came here to study the bridge and learn its secrets. Those arches in particular interest them. Pelarak claimed their strength is far beyond the mere stone that makes them.”
“I don’t care about its secrets,” Tessanna said. “But I must see it closer.”
She led the way, and Qurrah followed.
Twelve men waited at the bridge’s entrance. They wore the same brown coats and gray trousers as the men who had accosted them the previous night. A couple had swords attached to their belts while the rest carried daggers. All Qurrah could think was of how pitiful the men looked compared to the stone lions on either side of them. The men drew their weapons as Qurrah and Tessanna neared. One man perched at the foot of the left lion called out to them.
“Stop, now,” he shouted. “That’s close enough to talk.”
“We don’t wish to talk,” Qurrah said, using magic to strengthen his voice so the others could hear. If he tried to shout, he’d tear an old wound and blood would pour down his throat. “We wish to cross.”
“Well that’s the problem,” the man said, tossing a dagger up and down in his hand. “We’re not sure we want you crossing, not after what happened last night. And I said to stop moving.”
The couple continued anyway. The other ruffians grew nervous at their boldness while the apparent leader kept tossing his dagger. Qurrah eyed him closely. His hair was cut much shorter than the others, and he wielded the weapon with an ease that implied many hours of practice. If it came to killing, that man needed taken out first.
“Fine then, guess shouting isn’t too civilized, is it?” the man said, hopping down from the lion’s foot. “My name is Tory. It’s nice to meet such a lovely couple.”
Qurrah grabbed several bone pieces from his pockets and held them in one hand. His other caressed the handle to his whip.
“We wish to cross and find supplies within the delta,” Qurrah said, letting them look into his eyes and see the lack of fear within. “And we will not be stopped.”
“You killed a few of my men,” Tory said. “However, I believe they were acting boorish, so unlike the example I try to set for them. For that I apologize.”
“Accepted,” Qurrah said. “Now will you let us pass?”
“No, not yet,” Tory said, pacing between the lions. “See, I heard some crazy stories about a girl made of fire killing my men. Now I don’t see any fire, but what we see is hardly what we get, is it?” He gestured to Tessanna. “Are you more dangerous than what you appear?”
“I’ve killed more than you,” she said, her voice meek and shy. “Ten times more. Does that make me dangerous?”
Tory laughed, but Qurrah detected a bit of nervousness. The other men were getting antsy. They had gotten a good look at Tessanna’s eyes and they wanted no part of her.
“That’s what I thought,” Tory said. “Such a beautiful thing, too. Are you both in such a hurry that you cannot stay with us in our friendly town? Riverend may not be the largest of places, or the most civilized, but the ale and food are excellent.” He looked at Tessanna, a charming smile on his face. “Surely we could become better acquainted.”
Jealousy flared within Qurrah.
“How dare you…”
“We could,” Tessanna said, offering him a flirty smile back. “But as I told your dead men, you’d die the moment you touched my flesh.”
The charming smile faltered.
“So be it,” he said. He snapped his fingers. The men around him reached back and pulled out loaded crossbows from behind the lion statues. Qurrah tensed, his knuckles white.
“No one insults me,” Tory said, the dagger in his hand twirling so fast it was a metallic blur. “No one.”
Before the men could fire, Qurrah tossed the bones into the air. Dark power flowed from his hands, giving them life. The pieces hovered in a small circle, shining a phantom gray.
“You cannot win this,” Qurrah said, his fingers outstretched. “Put down the bows and I will let you live.”
“They’re scared,” Tessanna said. Her hands remained at her side, and she appeared bored of the situation. “They’re scared so they threaten.”
“Then let’s remove their ability to threaten,” Qurrah whispered. He formed a fist, igniting the power of the bones. The shards flew through the air, aimed straight for the crossbows. They punched holes in the wood, broke the fingers that held them, and snapped the strings. A couple fired, but the shots were erratic. Qurrah opened his hand once more. Half of the bone pieces returned, hovering before his face.
“Do you think your swords will kill me?” he asked. “Do you think you will get close enough to try?”
A few men grabbed their daggers but Tory waved them off.
“You may cross,” the man said. “You are the stronger, without question.” He gave one last longing look at Tessanna. “A shame, too.”
The group of men parted, granting the couple passage.
“The western bridge is not far,” Tory said as they passed. “My men will let you through without hassle. Try not to keep them waiting.”
Qurrah grabbed Tessanna’s arm and walked across the bridge, silent.
“We’re not going to the other bridge,” Tessanna said once they were beyond earshot. “And we’re not going just because he said he wanted us to. You’re such a child.”
“We need supplies,” Qurrah said.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she said, kissing him once on the cheek. “But you won’t be fooling me.”
“I’d never try to,” he said, glancing back at Tory. “But I think I might kill him the next time we meet.”
“Try to make it painful,” Tessanna said, her tiny mouth grinning. “All he could think about was raping me the entire time we talked.”
Tory couldn’t decide why, but the horrific laughter he heard from the two as they left the bridge formed a knot deep in his gut, one that would take many drinks to loosen.
3
R iverend was a quaint little town, at least to Tessanna’s standards. It thrived off the crops it harvested from the fertile land that stretched for miles in all directions. But many travelers crossing between the two countries also stopped to rest and purchase supplies, and coin from all nations was welcome. The two passed a couple of stores, vague places that offered a few odds and ends, blankets, and waterskins. Tessanna’s beauty and Qurrah’s robes gained them immediate attention, though no one dared approach. Most just gawked from afar.
“We have a problem,” Qurrah said as they stopped before the town’s sole tavern. It was one floor with a rain-damaged roof and no windows. Beside the door hung a wooden sign with a crudely drawn mug overflowing at the top.
“I have many problems,” Tessanna said, her hands curled around his elbow as she ignored the curious stares. “But what is yours?”
“We have no coin and no items to barter with. We need food, water, and something for your feet. What exactly are we to offer?” Tessanna gave him a dirty smi
le, and immediately Qurrah’s face flushed. “We are not offering you, no matter how much it would gain us.” He looked back to the tavern. “If we rest for a night, and then take what we want from their stores, none here could stop us.”
“And if they try?” Tessanna asked. Qurrah shrugged, earning himself a glare and a jab from her elbow. “If you won’t let me sleep with some lonely farmer for our supplies, I am most certainly not letting you kill for them.”
“Then what else do we do?”
The girl tugged on his arm.
“For now, we go and get a drink.”
Inside, the dirt floor was tightly packed and trodden upon. Two tables filled the right half of the room, while the left was made of a tiny bar with several carved stools. There was no one inside.
“Evidently drinking is not as popular here as elsewhere,” Qurrah murmured.
“Oh it is,” said a man coming up behind them, wiping his dirt-covered hands on his trousers. He slipped past them and went behind the bar. “It’s just all the drinkers here are also hard workers, and if you haven’t noticed yet, the sun isn’t even halfway through the sky.”
Qurrah smiled at the man and the man smiled back. He was far older than Qurrah and his face was gruff, but he seemed rather amused by his early customers. His hair was tied behind his head in a bushy gray ponytail. When he smiled, it seemed to pull his entire face to the sides, and his bushy unibrow actually separated.
“I have noticed, but neither of us are hard workers. Might we have a drink?”
“Sure thing. Take a seat.” The man took out two wooden cups and filled them underneath the counter from a container they could not see. He set them down in front of them at their table. “My name is Erik. Enjoy.”
“Before we drink,” Qurrah said, pointing to the cups. “I must say that we have no coin to pay for these. I still would very much like a drink, and I would also like to pay you.”
“Isn’t that how the world always works,” Erik said, waving them off. “You can have the first drink free. Consider it a welcome to our town. I’m afraid the rest of the town won’t be so friendly to your problem, though.” He plopped down at a seat behind the bar. “Not unless you’re ready to work for a few coins, but neither of you looks like the sort to bend your backs in the sun. Those robes. You a priest?”
“No,” Qurrah said, sipping from the cup. He felt the burning liquid on his tongue, fiercely bitter. He swallowed as quickly as possible. “Just a traveler.”
Tessanna dipped her finger into the drink and then put it in her mouth, sucking off the liquid.
“Just travelers,” Erik said, watching Tessanna. “You didn’t arrive here just last night, did you?” When neither answered, the old man nodded. “See, last night I heard a bunch of ruckus while I was sleeping.” He pointed at the floor behind the bar. “That is where my old bones rest, and that is where I woke up to two scared hogs begging for a drink.”
Qurrah took another sip as the old man leaned closer.
“They told me the craziest story about this girl of pure fire, beautiful as a goddess and as dangerous as a snake. Said she just started burning, and then killed one of their friends. Now I hope I don’t imply an insult, fair lady, but you do look as beautiful as a goddess.”
“I’m not poisonous,” Tessanna said, her finger pressed against her teeth as she grinned. “But I do burn people.”
“Why do you tell us this?” Qurrah asked.
“Because a girl like that, well, she could do a lot of things that people here might appreciate. Might even reward them for doing these things.”
Qurrah finished his drink and slid Erik the cup.
“What things?”
“Which bridge did you cross?”
“The eastern,” Qurrah replied. “We’ve come from Neldar. We traveled through Omn too quickly to supply ourselves adequately before we reached the delta.”
The barkeep nodded. It was a story he heard often. Most desperate travelers had run afoul with the law at some point in either Neldar or Omn and thought to start a new life in the west.
“Did you meet Tory when you tried to cross the eastern bridge?” he asked. When they both nodded, he continued. “He moved in here with a group of thugs from Mordeina. Started charging a toll to whoever crossed the bridges. If anyone was well armed he’d just let them go by; he was smart like that. Thing is, he started getting more and more money, and he’s acquired a healthy collection of all things drunkards love up in his little shack north of town. Got to the point where even those with bodyguards had to start paying his toll…and the tolls themselves got much higher.”
Erik walked around the bar and to the door. He glanced outside to ensure no one was nearby. When satisfied, he turned around and approached their table.
“We’re neutral territory. With the stigma of the war hundreds of years ago, no country will touch us. Tory’s started taking whatever he wants from the towns in the delta, and it’s not just food.” He looked pointedly at Tessanna. “He wanted you, didn’t he?”
She nodded.
“I could tell,” she said. “I always can.”
“You’re older than he’d prefer,” Erik said. Qurrah watched as the old man’s hands gripped the table to stop their shaking. “But you’re beauty was enough to sway his tastes. We’ve sent our daughters south to Haven, but not always in time. And he’s begun to go there now…”
Erik had made this offer many times before to travelers passing through his little town. Never once had he seen such rage as he saw in Tessanna’s eyes.
“Little pissfire comes here with men and weapons and thinks he can take what he wants,” she said, her eyes staring into nowhere. “Do the girls live after he is done?”
“He keeps them,” Erik said. He gripped the table harder. A few tears trickled down his cheek. He was too old and tired to hold them all in. “Keeps them until they’re all used up. My granddaughter, she…” He turned and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “She was never the same. She threw herself into the river one night. Said she was certain Tory would come for her again, and she couldn’t do it. She’d rather die.”
Tessanna stood. Her hands took the old man’s and pulled them from the table. She gently kissed his shaking fingers.
“I’ll drown them,” she said. “In their own blood. I promise.”
“He’ll still be at the bridges,” Erik said. “If he’s not, return and I will lead you to his hovel.”
“We need food, water, warmer clothes, and shoes for Tessanna’s feet,” Qurrah said. “Have it ready when we return.”
The old man nodded.
“Go with Ashhur’s blessing.”
To this, Qurrah smirked. “We come bearing death. Ashhur will grant us no blessing.”
S hould we wait until nightfall?” Qurrah asked as they headed into the lush fields north of town that were in various states of final harvest before winter. Tessanna shook her head. Her lips were thin and pulled tight against her teeth. It was rare for her to be so angry, but the abuse of such young girls appeared to be one of the things that could pierce her apathy.
“I won’t give him a chance to take another,” she answered. “He might have a girl waiting for him, just waiting like a little gift when he returns with his men. I won’t let him. I won’t.”
It took only an hour before the bridge grew within sight. The small gray shapes of Tory’s minions littered the construction. They must have spotted them, for at once they rushed across the bridge and lined the near side.
“They fear us, don’t they?” Tessanna asked.
“They are right to,” Qurrah said.
“They’re not afraid enough. Not yet.”
Tessanna did not slow as she neared. Seven men remained of the original twelve that greeted them earlier. Tory did not appear to be one of them. As the guards leered and made their crude comments, Tessanna grabbed the nearest ruffian by the throat and shrieked. The force of her yell knocked them to the ground, all but the one she held. His flesh turned
gray, his hair shriveled white, and the cartilage of his nose and ears curled inward to the bone. On and on her shriek continued, a horrific wail of death. The flesh peeled off his skull and his teeth cracked free from their gums.
She let him go. He fell to the ground looking freshly dug from the grave twenty years after his death.
“Where is Tory?” she asked the others as they lay stunned. None answered, for they could not hear through the ringing in their ears. She grabbed the shirt of another man and pushed. Magical energy slammed against his chest, tumbling him off the bridge and into the water below.
“Where is he?” she screamed.
“West,” one said. He was curled against one of the arches that lined the side of the bridge. His hands were pressed against his ears. Blood covered them. “If you’re looking for Tory, he went west, to the other bridge. We haven’t done anything, we swear!”
Tessanna stared into his eyes, the black orbs peering into his soul.
“Did you ever take one to be your own?” she asked in a voice so calm and soft it seemed impossible to have been the same voice shrieking louder than thunder.
As the man stared back, he felt claws within his mind, feasting on his thoughts like a ravenous being. Through it all, a single question pulsed like a heartbeat, and he knew what it was she asked.
“No,” he said. “It just wasn’t…no.”
Tessanna released him and turned to her lover.
“Let’s go,” she said.
“Do we let them live?” Qurrah asked, pointing to the men that were slowly getting to their feet.
“Only the one with the bloody ears. The others forfeited their lives long ago.”
Qurrah opened his pouch of bones. The men saw this and fled, racing across the bridge like scared children. Only the one remained, perched against the side with his eyes still locked on Tessanna. He watched, mesmerized, as bones flew past his face and into the necks and skulls of his comrades.
When Qurrah turned around, he saw a swirling black portal hovering above the ground. Tessanna stood before it, her eyes shimmering purple.
The Death of Promises h-3 Page 3