“The moment I saw you I had a feeling we’d find time for a duel,” Qurrah said, releasing his whip and banishing its flame.
“I too hoped I would be given the privilege of killing you,” Anora said. “The great traitor and his whore of Celestia? Such accomplishments will have me remembered forever at the towers when I return.”
Qurrah looked over her shoulder, saw the battle still raging. At least with Anora engaging him, she wouldn’t be aiding the larger fight. Not much consolation there. Shadows sparking from his fingertips, he grinned at the woman, telling himself to enjoy the challenge. It’d been ages since he faced a spellcaster of any repute.
“When you return,” he said. “How cute. You think you’ll win.”
He gave her no chance to respond. Twin bolts of shadow flung from his palms, their edges sparking with white electricity. Anora extended a hand, fingers splayed. A translucent shield shimmered into existence and the bolts slammed into it with a crack like breaking stone. The shield rippled but did not break. Qurrah flung three more, giving her no reprieve. The bolts broke against the shield, but each one would take a tiny piece of her strength, slowly sapping her. To be fair, Qurrah was likely weakening quicker, but he had to trust that his power was greater. If Tessanna would join in...
“Is this all you have?” Anora asked. She stomped a foot, and the ground shook as if she were a giant. Qurrah stumbled, his next spell ruined, and the woman took the offensive. Her shield vanished and two long blades of concentrated lightning formed in her hands. They appeared made of concentrated lightning, crackling at her touch. She swung one, and despite the distance between them, the blade grew until it were nearly twenty feet long. Panicking, Qurrah summoned his shield, and he grunted as the lightning crackled against it.
“I’m just getting started,” Qurrah said as the second blade struck. The brightness of both blades hurt his eyes, but he dared not look away. His best advantage now was that with her hands holding her unique weapons, she couldn’t react as quickly against his attacks. Flaring power into his shield, he took a step forward. The lightning blades bowed as he shortened the distance, and through the newly formed gap he let loose a burst of flame.
A flame that vanished into nothing as the woman pressed her wrists together and muttered a word of power. Qurrah went to cast again, but she pointed a finger at him. A barrage of colors flashed before his eyes. Disoriented and suddenly queasy, he staggered backward, hands flailing to re-summon his shield. He more felt than saw the lightning blades strike against it. Thrice more they hit, then pulled back.
Desperate, Qurrah flung invisible waves of weakness and disorientation right back at her, hoping to force her to relent.
“Curses?” Anora said as her earrings shimmered with sudden energy. “Do you think I’m not protected against something so quaint?”
Qurrah shrugged.
“One can hope.”
She lashed him with her lightning as if punishing him for his petulance. The magical blades grew again, and this time they wrapped around him like Qurrah’s own whip. From all sides of his shield they crackled, tearing into his magical protection, wearing him down. Qurrah felt his mind breaking from the strain. He’d never fought such a weapon before, one that seemed designed solely to break through his magical protections. Lances of ice and blasts of flame he could scatter with ease, but this damn electricity? It didn’t hit just once, nor at a focused point, but everywhere, over and over in constant pressure.
He retreated, hoping in vain for space. Anora matched him step for step. They drew closer to the chained paladins, who cowered in terror at the battle playing out before them.
“Tess!” screamed Qurrah. Damn his pride, and the stupid soldiers. He needed help.
Almost at once fire surged toward the sorceress, and she had to cross her wrists to counter. Tessanna approached, black tendrils growing from her back like the wings of a demon. They snapped at Anora like snakes that swayed side to side. The spellcaster’s lightning blades grew to absurd lengths and sliced through the shadow, banishing them. But Anora’s focus was split now, and Qurrah kept up the pressure. Bones ripped free from the dead paladin of Karak’s corpse, shimmering with magic as Qurrah controlled them with his mind. They lashed against Anora’s exposed skin, slicing and bruising her. A gust of wind rolled out from her in all directions, blowing back the floating bones.
A blade of lightning crashed against Qurrah’s shield as she spun, attacking both he and Tess at once. Qurrah pushed himself through the pain. Most of the bones might be gone, but the body still remained close, filled with the leftover energy that collected after a soul’s passing. Words of magic dashed off his lips, and he poured his own power into the corpse. With a clenching of his fist, it exploded. The larger bones that lingered, particularly the pelvis and skull, proved the most damaging. Anora staggered, and finally those damn blades of lightning faded away as she summoned a proper shield to protect herself.
“Even outnumbering me, you will not win,” she said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself and not them. “I’ve trained with masters. I know spells you can only dream of.”
“And I have walked the chaotic spaces between the worlds you call dreams,” Tessanna said. A wave of her hand, and a ring of fire exploded outward from her waist. Anora protected herself from it with her shield, but the remaining two soldiers Tessanna had been fighting were run through, their armor melting and flesh burning away. Their innards spilled across the ground as they collapsed. Clenching her fingers, Tessanna ripped their spines from their bodies. The bloodied bones swirled about her, each vertebrate snapping free as they orbited in three long ovals.
“Masters,” Tessanna said, her voice echoing as if two people spoke, not one. “Who are they compared to a goddess?”
Anora pressed her hands together and unleashed a crimson beam of raw magical power. The beam hit the swirling bones with a sound of thunder, but it was the beam, not the bones, that broke. Tessanna waved a hand, and bone pieces flung toward Anora, black shadows swirling about them. They struck the woman in the chest and stomach, each hit sounding more painful than the last.
Anora screamed, and she pulled a gem from a pocket and clutched it tightly. At a word, the gem shattered. Qurrah sensed the power within it, and it poured into Anora accompanied by a rushing sound of air. Tessanna struck again, and Qurrah joined in, firing bolts of shadow alongside her shimmering bones. Both hit Anora’s renewed shield and dissolved.
“Two decades I poured my strength into this gem,” Anora shouted. “Two decades of preparing to overthrow Roand, and you’ve made me waste it on you!”
Qurrah might have felt more proud if he wasn’t scrambling to stay alive. A barrage of fire and ice exploded out of Anora. Her eyes and mouth unleashed flame, her fingertips shards of ice. Every hit on his shield was like a punch to the gut. Tears filled his vision. Anora’s entire body shimmered, magical power arcing off her like lightning. Poor Samar was so close he had to close his eyes and turn away lest his face be burned.
That lightning blasted toward Qurrah. Instead of blocking, he ripped open earth before him and created a wall. The beam smashed into it, blasting through stone and tearing into Qurrah’s body. He rolled along the ground, heart hammering, ears ringing. A similar blast flew toward Tessanna, but she handled it better. The bone shield swirled, magical protection shimmering like a shadow before her. The lightning continued on and on, and Tessanna screamed from the pain. Despite the power required for such an incredible display, Anora refused to relent. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead, blood trickled from her nose, yet it seemed the reserve granted by the gem provided her with endless power.
“I will drag you to the towers,” she shouted. “I will let you suffer for an age in rooms where time is but a dream. You’ll bleed, and scream, and beg...”
Her words died as Samar extended his leg as far as he could and kicked her directly in the crotch. She doubled over, the lightning about her hands flickering for the sligh
test moment.
Qurrah dove toward her, word of power on his lips.
“Hemorrhage!”
His power flooded into her, and she could not counter in time. Her face exploded, blood rupturing from her nose in a torrent. The rest of her flesh peeled back, caving in her teeth and sending her eyeballs flying in opposite directions, the connecting nerves trailing with them. An aching death rattle escaped her throat as she collapsed to her knees, then slumped to one side, a pool of blood collecting beneath her head.
“Thanks,” Qurrah said, slumping beside the kid.
“Welcome,” the paladin said. His eyes lingered on the dead body, and he looked an inch away from vomiting. “Please don’t tell Jerico. I doubt that counted as fighting honorably.”
“Forget fighting honorably,” Qurrah said. “Fight to live. Everything else is vanity.”
Rising to his feet, he looked at Tessanna. She was tired, beaten, and bruised, but alive.
“Remind me to never make enemies of the Council,” Qurrah told her, and he laughed. Bodies surrounded them, dozens of dead soldiers, plus a dark paladin and a sorceress of the Council...and they weren’t safe yet.
“Let’s get you free,” Qurrah said, circling around to the back of Samar so he had easier access to the chains.
“There’s someone coming,” said Mal, the tall kid bound between Elrath and Samar. Qurrah groaned, and he peered over the post. Sure enough, someone did walk toward them through the rows of tents, someone Qurrah recognized rather well.
“Take the paladins and go,” Qurrah said to Tess as he started for Xarl.
“I can help you,” she insisted.
“There’s no time! If Xarl’s here, then the fight is nearly over. Escaping now means nothing if Bram marches to Mordeina unopposed.”
Tessanna clearly disagreed, but she quickly began undoing the chains of the three young paladins. Qurrah stepped in front of her, trusting himself to be enough of a distraction that the others could escape in time. Xarl slowly circled him, his long sword and short sword blazing with fire.
“First I kill Anora, and now you,” Qurrah said, stalling. “It seems today is a day of answered prayers.”
“The great traitor,” Xarl said. “I should have expected such behavior from you. You’re only following your nature, after all.”
“You throw that title at me as if it were an insult,” Qurrah said. “But I betrayed Karak above all else. He gave me power, and with it I slew his prophet. I swore him my life, and now I deny it to him with every breath I take.” The half-orc pointed at Xarl, whip writhing on his arm like a furious serpent. “Call me traitor. Say it a thousand times, and a thousand times I will thank you for the honor.”
“You think your life is no longer Karak’s?” asked Xarl. “You think Ashhur will protect you? It is not ‘traitor’ I should call you, Qurrah Tun. Fool, I label you. Blind, deluded fool. That Karak ever gave you his power is a mystery I’ll never understand. What promise did he see in you that a hundred others could not have also fulfilled?”
Qurrah grinned, and as the excitement of battle pounded through his veins, he dared think himself similar to his brother. Let the conflict fuel him. Let the danger thrill him, adding strength to his tired limbs.
“Ask Karak for your answer,” he said, taking the handle of his whip into his hand. “I’m about to send you to him.”
He swung the whip, hoping for another surprise hit like before, but Xarl was much faster. His longsword plunged toward the ground, and the whip wrapped about its blade. Xarl pulled, and Qurrah had no hope of matching his strength. The whip flew from his hand. The fire vanished when it landed.
Even though the fight with Anora had drained him, Qurrah dug deep within himself, pointed both palms to the grass, and blasted out a wave of purple fire. The fire rolled forward, steadily rising in height. Xarl clanged his swords together and flung them into the dirt. An invisible shockwave spun outward from the god-blessed weapons, creating a ring around him and banishing the fire. Yanking the weapons free, the dark paladin rushed forward. Black fire burned about the steel, hungry for flesh. Qurrah retreated, hands dancing.
“Hemorrhage!” he shouted, frustrated by how weak his voice sounded, and even more so at the weakness of his spell. Xarl crossed his arms, the spell opening a wound on his forearm beneath the gauntlet. It didn’t so much as slow him down. About to be run through, Qurrah dropped to the ground, crossed his arms, and summoned a wall of shadow about himself.
The flaming swords struck the shadow wall, bounced off. Xarl hesitated, looming above him, visible as a black and white version of himself. Qurrah detonated the shield, and the blast flung Xarl into the air. Maddeningly, the paladin landed on his feet.
“How many tricks do you have left?” Xarl asked as he charged.
Qurrah pointed toward Anora’s body, and her arm reached out to grab Xarl’s ankle. The paladin lost his balance and fell, and Qurrah flung a frustratingly small bolt of shadow at him. The bolt struck the armor across his shoulder, crunching it inward. Xarl leapt back to his feet and screamed as he slammed his weapons together. Karak’s power washed over Qurrah in another shockwave. It sickened his stomach, and he vomited.
Xarl took two steps forward and swung. Qurrah fell back, but not fast enough. A burning blade sliced through his white robes, the very tip digging into his left side for a brief, painful moment. He dropped back to the ground, rolled, and then bounded to his feet. Blood dripped from his chest and it hurt to breathe. He was too weak, too drained to fight. So he ran toward Loreina’s pavilion—or more specifically, the shadows the huge tent cast. Qurrah could create portals leading from shadow to shadow, sometimes crossing miles if given enough time. Words of magic flying off his tongue, he focused on a specific destination. The shadows before him deepened, and with a hissing of air, a portal ripped open. Wind roared out of it, blowing against his robes.
“Coward!” shouted Xarl as he raced toward him, legs pumping, platemail rattling.
Qurrah slowed down and allowed the sprinting dark paladin to draw closer, focusing on keeping the portal open. He had no intention of being a coward, no intention of fleeing.
The portal wasn’t for him.
Xarl lunged toward Qurrah, two swords leading. The moment Qurrah saw the paladin leap off his feet, he stepped left and spun. The burning swords stabbed into the portal. Grabbing Xarl’s wrist, Qurrah pulled, adding to his already impressive momentum. The dark paladin went headfirst inside, but before he could enter completely, Qurrah killed the spell. The portal slammed shut. Xarl’s upper half teleported to a shady grove within a distant forest, the lower half plopping to the ground and pouring blood.
“Good riddance,” Qurrah muttered.
Qurrah ran past the pavilion to the distant hill where he’d sent Tessanna. He saw the three young paladins waiting there, but not his lover. Frowning, he pushed himself on until they were within earshot.
“Where’s Tess?” he asked.
“There,” Samar said, pointing skyward. Tessanna hovered above the battle, a beautiful dark angel flying on ethereal wings. A dress of midnight covered her body, its fabric sparkling with stars. Clouds formed about her, hanging low in the sky, so dark they seemed more like smoke than cloud. Shadows fell across the valley, and with the darkness came a chill wind that made Qurrah hug his arms to his chest. Whatever exhaustion Tessanna had felt, it was gone. Whatever her limitations, they appeared to no longer exist.
“Is this what you want?” Tessanna screamed at the top of her lungs, neck arched heavenward. “Then here I am. My hands are yours, my life yours, and my wings!”
It seemed Celestia heard, and she answered. My power came only from slaying angels, Tessanna had told him. Perhaps there was truth to that. Perhaps Celestia desired the angels to fall, and that was why Tessanna’s dwindling power had returned during her battle against them in Ker. If that were the case, then based on the power Qurrah watched his beloved unleash, Celestia didn’t desire Bram’s army to lose.
&
nbsp; She desired them blasted off the face of Dezrel.
Tessanna whirled her hands, and ropes of flame lashed out from the sky, each one the length of the battlefield. They slammed down among the front rows of the army, charring dozens dead. Those who chased the fleeing Mordan army found their skin peeling away and their clothes catching flame. A wave of Tessanna’s hand, and clumps of shadow swelled throughout the valley, oily black tendrils emerging to slam into nearby soldiers with enough strength to dent armor and shatter weapons held up in defense.
Fire fell like rain from her hands. The clouds thickened, the first of many strokes of lightning blasting into the heart of the army. Wind knifed through the ranks, carrying shards of ice that ripped exposed flesh. Qurrah watched in awe as Tessanna pushed herself higher, beams of shadow blasting craters into the ground. The earth split and molten rock flowed out in thin rivers. Soldiers collapsed in the heat and were swallowed by the steady flow.
Qurrah’s fear outweighed his awe. He’d asked her to influence the battle, but now she looked like she could conquer armies with a thought. That power carried shades of her past self, when her mind was fully broken, and the connection was not a pleasant one. Worse, though, was how the power continued to grow. It wasn’t controlled. The storm, the fire, the magic...it spiraled wildly into chaos, and with such power, he feared Tessanna was not alone in the sky.
And then she spoke, each word confirming his fear.
“How much death must your race witness before you are sated?” his beloved cried, but the voice was not hers. “Why thirst for power yet never crave peace? Why love so weakly your fear conquers mercy? Should I show you that same love? Should I scar your kind the way it scars my own creation?”
The King of the Vile Page 24