The sound of footsteps through the grass awoke Alric from his nap. Stirring, he reached for his rucksack. When he looked up, he was surprised to see it wasn’t soldiers of Ker that stepped into his little campsite but a woman. Her hair was stark black and hung down to her waist, her dress plain and brown, clinging to her slender form. Despite the scars all across her arms, despite how her eyes looked like solid black orbs, she was undeniably beautiful. Alric started to apologize even though he had no idea what he was apologizing for.
“Oh,” Tessanna said as she spotted him. “I see we’re not the only ones wishing for some privacy.”
“It’s nothing,” Alric said, confused by her mention of ‘we’ since he saw no one with her. He stumbled to his feet, slinging his pack over his shoulder. “I’ll go.”
“No, please stay,” the strange woman said, and she crossed her legs and sat on his blanket. “It will be nice to have company other than boring soldiers and fanatical paladins.”
Alric looked past her. The army was less than a quarter mile away, their camp filling the road and the clearings beyond. The proximity filled him with unease, but so far he had no reason to run. He sat back down.
“So, you’re traveling with them?” he asked.
The woman nodded.
“For now.”
“So are you, uh, a follower?” Alric said, trying to be tactful and failing miserably. The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “You know, a camp follower.”
At that, the woman laughed, and she seemed genuinely amused.
“Many of them wish, I do not doubt,” she said with a smile. “Why do you think I am one of the prostitutes?”
Alric’s face flushed red. How in the world could he answer that question without making himself look like an even bigger jackass?
“I don’t know,” he said, picking burrs off his blanket. “You’re beautiful enough to be one.”
The woman giggled as if she were a little girl.
“I’m flattered. No, I am not a camp follower. I travel with my husband, who is very important to King Bram.” She offered him her hand. “Tessanna.”
“Alric,” he said, accepting it and softly shaking once. The name sounded familiar, and though he tried not to, he found himself staring at her strange eyes.
“So,” she said, “I have told you why I am here, but why are you?” She leaned in closer. “Are you hiding from the big, bad men from Ker?”
It was his turn to chuckle.
“In a way, yes,” he said. “I’m traveling to Mordeina, and would prefer to avoid any...complications.”
“King Bram is certainly a complication,” Tessanna said, and she looked over her shoulder at the camp. “Though for good or ill, I cannot decide.”
She fell silent, and Alric steadily grew uncomfortable. Something about this Tessanna felt otherworldly. He decided it was because of the eyes, those eyes whose irises looked blacker than coal. Just a strange gift at birth, he told himself. Nothing to be afraid of.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked, unable to handle the silence any longer. He opened his rucksack and started leafing through its contents, trying to be polite. “I don’t have much, and what I do have certainly isn’t the most pleasant to the tongue, but it’s still food.”
Tessanna shook her head.
“I don’t eat much,” she said. “Go ahead if you wish, though.”
“Oh.” He closed the rucksack and settled down onto the blanket, fighting for anything casual to discuss with the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
“So where are you from?” he asked.
“A little village outside of Veldaren,” she said. She leaned over, and her hair fell so that it was like she’d drawn a curtain across her face to hide. “After that, Veldaren, then a little cabin in the woods outside Veldaren, then Mordeina, and then in Ker, a house not far from the Corinth River. We...we never seem to keep a home for long.”
“I’m sorry,” Alric said. He’d met several refugees from the east since the war, and all of them had worn a sort of hollow expression. The war, the death, the destruction; it’d been like it scooped out an important piece of them that remained empty no matter how much time passed. Tessanna’s shoulders shuddered, and he realized she was crying. Immediately he felt guilty and incompetent. Asking a simple question? He couldn’t even get that right! He cleared his throat, ready to say he was sorry.
“Don’t apologize,” she said, her voice cold and lethal. “I have only myself to blame. I tore open the gate. I brought forth the war god. Every home I have lost, it has always been my fault. At least I found vengeance in the end. At least together, my lover and I burned the prophet to ashes. That’s something, isn’t it, Alric? That must mean something.”
No more confusion as to how he knew her name. Alric stared at the daughter of the goddess, suddenly terrified. This was the sorceress who had ripped open the portal allowing Thulos to march into Dezrel alongside an army of war demons. Because of her, all lands east of the Rigon had fallen. Because of her, hundreds of thousands had died.
She looked up at him, peering through her dark hair with those black eyes. Tears ran down them, but whatever sorrow she felt didn’t reach her voice.
“So where are you from?” she asked, chipper, smiling so sweetly.
“Greenbrook,” he said. “It’s one of the border farm towns in Ker.”
Tessanna bobbed her head. “You’ve traveled far. Why go to Mordeina?”
Alric couldn’t wrap his head around the situation. The dark angel of Celestia wanted to know why he traveled to Mordan’s capital. Could he tell her? Should he tell her? Alric had heard tales of her and her lover redeeming themselves and pledging to Ashhur, but he’d heard other tales as well, of a more vicious sort.
“I’m not sure you’d believe me,” he said, nearly laughing at the ludicrousness of it all.
Tessanna slid her fingers along the pale gray cloth of his blanket, fingernails scratching the rough fabric.
“I have seen the breaking of the world,” she said. “I have glimpsed the stars in the abyss and heard the whisper of the goddess. There is very little I cannot believe.”
Alric sighed. For such a powerful, storied person to stumble upon him while he slept, he had to assume at least the possibility Ashhur had sent her his way. So he swallowed down his nervousness and told her.
“I go because Ashhur wants me to go to Avlimar,” he said.
Tessanna didn’t even bat an eye.
“How do you know?”
“Dreams,” he said. “Every night, always the same one.”
“How do you know they’re from Ashhur?”
“I just...do,” Alric said. It was a question he’d never considered.
Tessanna slid closer on the blanket, and she pushed away her hair from her face.
“If you’d let me, I can see them,” she said. “If you want me to. I won’t make you. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
Alric chewed on his lower lip. The few people he’d told of his dreams had always assumed him delusional, or troubled, or flat-out lying. To have someone able to see them as well, to understand the overwhelming anger come the end when the shadow king put on his crown...
“You swear it won’t hurt?” he asked.
Tessanna smiled shyly at him.
“I promise.”
Alric nodded.
“Do it.”
She reached out with thin, pale fingers, settling them against his temples. She closed her eyes, and Alric felt a strange tingling travel up his spine and into the base of his neck. Wisps of black smoke wafted from her fingers. Her grip on his head tightened, her tiny mouth locked into a frown. Alric grew more and more nervous as the woman’s whole body began to tremble. He didn’t dare touch her, didn’t dare break her concentration. In the realms of magic, he was a babe, while she a master.
And then, just as quickly as it began, Tessanna pulled away. Her eyes opened, and he saw startling clarity in her gaze.
“You s
ee them too,” she whispered.
“Too?” he asked. “You mean...”
“I have,” she said. “Glimpses and echoes of the future you will set in motion.”
Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked upon him with a mixture of sadness and pity.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I could have spared you. I could have prevented this if I wasn’t such a coward. If I’d only been the angel of destruction Celestia wished me to be. But Qurrah begged me not to, Alric. He begged me, and I couldn’t refuse him, not after all he’d sacrificed for my sake. Because of it, now you must suffer in my stead.”
Alric sat before her, and he felt so confused, so helpless.
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to,” Tessanna said, smiling sadly at him. “Just follow the dream to its end.”
“But why? What am I, Tessanna? How do I matter in all this?”
She gently stroked his face.
“Ashhur will awaken in a blaze of fire,” she whispered. “And you’re to be the spark.”
They both turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Alric’s entire body tensed at the sight of the half-orc in faded robes. His face was a soft gray, his hair a brown so dark it approached black. He carried blankets in his arms and a sack over one shoulder.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked.
“Not at all, Qurrah,” Tessanna said, rising to greet her husband. Alric stared at the couple as she kissed his cheek. First Celestia’s daughter, and now the great traitor of Veldaren? Perhaps he should have endured the wet clothes and crossed the stream when he had the chance.
Qurrah set down his blanket, unrolling it so he and Tessanna had a place to sit. All the while he kept an untrusting eye on Alric. It seemed fair enough. Alric didn’t feel ready to trust him, either.
“So who is our guest?” Qurrah asked as he sat down.
“This is Alric,” Tessanna answered. “He’s on a mission from Ashhur.”
“Oh really?”
Alric chuckled.
“She makes it sound silly when she puts it that way.”
He’d expected Qurrah to scoff, but instead he leaned closer, resting his chin on his fist.
“I thought Ashhur slumbered,” he said, his brown eyes sparkling with intelligence. “Isn’t that what the priests and angels say?”
“I’m not one to contradict them,” Alric said. “All I know are the dreams he sends me.”
“Dreams?”
“Dreams. Visions. Whatever you want to call them. I see them every night, leading me to Avlimar.”
“Avlimar has fallen,” Qurrah said. “Your dreams lead you to a graveyard.”
“Hush now,” Tessanna said, cuddling against him. “Don’t be so harsh. Can’t you see he is troubled?”
She spoke about him as if he were a child, and it angered Alric more than it should.
“I can’t explain it,” Alric said. “And I won’t try to. Ashhur wants me to go to Avlimar, and so I will.”
Qurrah stroked Tessanna’s hair as he stared at him.
“Some would call you a man of great faith,” he said. “And some would label you a self-deluded fool. Both tend to mirror one another. How do you know which one you are?”
“I don’t,” Alric admitted with a sigh. “And that’s what terrifies me every night when I lay down to sleep. It, and the dreams.”
The half-orc stared at him. Alric kept his head up, refusing to wilt before that gaze.
“Ashhur gave me back my life,” Qurrah said after a moment. “I owe him everything, yet I now dwell in his silence. I envy you, Alric. To hear his voice, even in a whisper, even in a dream, is a gift denied to me. I only pray that in the days to come, I find no reason to pity you instead.”
Such an admission, even one tinged with warning, was unexpected from such a dark figure, and Alric struggled for the right words to respond with. Before he could, a female rider casually loped toward them on a spotted brown horse. Alric pointed over the couple’s shoulder.
“Someone’s coming,” he said.
Qurrah and Tessanna both looked. Upon spotting her, Qurrah swore softly.
“Do you know her?” Tessanna asked.
“I don’t need to,” Qurrah said. “Do you see those robes? She’s from the Council. That’s all I need to know that I’m about to become very annoyed.”
Alric stood there dumbfounded as the rider closed the distance and came to a halt. She had an unfriendly face, nose too long, eyes narrow, mouth locked in a permanent frown. Long silver earrings dangled far past her neck, jangling from the ride.
“Qurrah and Tessanna Tun?” she asked.
“We are,” said Qurrah.
“I am Anora of the Towers,” she said, “and I come at behest of the Council to offer my wisdom and guidance to this campaign.”
Qurrah raised an eyebrow.
“I did not think King Bram was in need of counsel.”
“I had heard that too,” Anora said sharply. “But my opinion differs. You are his current counsel, are you not? That is why I came to greet you, but you seem so very far from the king to hold such a role.”
Qurrah’s right hand tightened into a fist, and Alric feared a confrontation would break out. Tension filled the air.
“Why have you really come, Anora?” Qurrah asked.
“I told you,” said the wizard, “I have come to offer my guidance to King Bram and his invasion. The Council has eyes everywhere, and surely you can understand our preference that all of Dezrel not become a theocracy. I would think we would be allies, Qurrah Tun, not enemies.”
Alric could tell that was certainly never going to happen. Tessanna slid between her husband and Anora and stared up at the wizard.
“My lover and I would like some peace,” she said. “It gets so bothersome surrounded by soldiers and noise all day. You’ll understood soon, I’m sure.”
Anora tugged on her horse’s reins.
“What bothers me are those who do not understand their place,” she said. “Bram does not need you anymore, neither of you. If you were wise, you’d go home, and leave things beyond your understanding alone.”
Tessanna rose to her feet, and she smiled so sweetly at their uninvited visitor.
“Remember who you threaten,” she said “If you are not careful, I may have to unfurl my wings.”
Anora smiled right back, and Alric thought the expression looked wrong on her face.
“I will remember that,” the wizard said. “But before I go, you might want to return to the camp. Karak’s paladins have captured a few prisoners I believe you’ll be interested in.”
“Why tell us?” Qurrah asked.
“How many times must I tell you?” Anora asked. “I am here for guidance, not confrontation.”
With that she rode off. Alric was baffled as to what had just transpired. Qurrah and Tessanna seemed to understand more, and they shared a look with one another.
“Forgive us, Alric, but I fear we must be going,” Qurrah said, rising to his feet.
“It’s no bother,” Alric said.
Qurrah hesitated, and him a look Alric couldn’t read.
“Since you travel to Mordeina, would you deliver a message to my brother for me?”
“I suppose.”
“Thank you,” Qurrah said. “Please, tell him...tell him I’m not his enemy. No matter what he hears, I will always be there for him.”
“Sure, sure, I’ll try,” Alric said. The half-orc hurried away, seemingly embarrassed. Tessanna blew Alric a kiss goodbye and joined her husband in returning to the camp.
Alric lurched to his feet the moment they were gone, pushed through the stream, and rushed north, the coming cold be damned.
16
For three days, Lathaar and Jerico had remained just ahead of the invading army from Ker. It was on that third day, when the sun was high in the sky, that a rider came thundering down the road atop a black horse. There was nowhere to hide, the nearest village several miles
ahead and the surrounding fields had already been harvested ahead of the coming winter. The two paladins stood tall and greeted the approaching paladin of Karak with the respect they felt he deserved.
“Come to die?” Lathaar asked, swords crossed before him, naked steel glowing with light.
“Or maybe get your ass a solid spanking before running home to Karak?” Jerico added, his shield raised. The dark paladin pulled back on the reins, stopping beyond the reach of their weapons. He was a younger man, his freckled face lined with scars, either side of his neck sporting a roaring lion. Strapped to his back was an enormous ax. He stared at the two as if surprised by their comments.
“I expected something more...noble from the two of you,” said the dark paladin.
Lathaar chuckled.
“You’re part of a doomed invasion soon to be crushed by angels. Perhaps you should get used to disappointment.”
“Or perhaps I should expect only the worst when it comes to Ashhur’s followers,” the dark paladin said, sitting up taller. “My name is Umber, and I come at behest of my master, Xarl, high paladin of the Stronghold.”
Lathaar found this hard to believe.
“I question how your master would even know we were here,” he said. “We’ve seen no one of your kind during our travels.”
Umber grinned at them.
“No, but we have seen plenty of your kind.”
Jerico softly swore.
“You lie,” Lathaar said, more hoping than believing.
Umber shook his head and backed his horse up a step.
“Where the mother duck goes, the ducklings tend to follow,” he said. “And trust me, Lathaar and Jerico of the Citadel, those ducklings broke very, very easily.”
The ugly amusement on his freckled face was almost enough to send Lathaar lunging at him, ready to tear him to pieces with his blessed blades, but Jerico’s hand on his shoulder kept him still.
“What is it you want with us?” Jerico asked.
“It’s simple enough,” Umber replied. “Come greet my master. We’ll be awaiting you to the south, traveling in King Bram’s vanguard. I trust you’ll come, because otherwise, well...” Another sick grin and shrug of his shoulders. “Otherwise, we’ll have to amuse ourselves with the little paladins instead.”
The King of the Vile Page 17