Harruq staggered back, his sword swinging wildly. The elf charged in, knowing he outmatched the half-orc in speed and skill. The kill would be his.
“Hemorrhage.”
A sudden purging of blood vessels exploded across Ahrqur’s side. The force smashed him into a decorative table. He rolled off the broken thing and glanced down at the blood soaking his robe. Despite the wound, no cut or hole was visible in the cloth.
“You are pathetic, Ahrqur,” Qurrah said, his hands whirling. “You are skilled but you are soft. You lack spirit, will. It is why you cannot resist my power. Hemorrhage!”
A visible wave of distorted reality crossed the distance between the necromancer and Ahrqur. The elf crossed his arms against the blow. His mind was nearly overwhelmed by the sudden tearing sensation that hit him. Blood splattered from two horrid gashes along his forearms, soaking the carpet crimson. He collapsed to one knee, his hands latched around his sword. He tried to raise the blade, but all the strength had left his hands. He had lost too much blood. When Harruq came charging forward, Condemnation red and hungry, all he could do was dodge.
Condemnation shattered what remained of the table. The elf rolled, his arms tucked against his chest. When he pulled out of the roll, he dashed for a large dresser. Inside was a stash of healing potions. All he needed was one and he could fight again. Just one. As he reached to open a drawer he felt his leg jerk back, halting his momentum. He crashed to the floor, screaming in pain as one of his forearms landed hard. Then he felt his ankle start to burn.
“Take him, brother,” Qurrah said, his whip wrapped around Ahrqur’s left foot. Harruq did not bother to cross the distance. He had had enough. Condemnation flew through the air, its aim true. The blade sank into the elf’s back. Blood and fluid covered the carpet as all life fled the body of Ahrqur Tun’del.
Harruq strolled forward, the sound of his ragged breathing filling the sudden quiet. He drew out his sword, grimacing at the sick wet sound it made.
“What do we do about all the blood?” he asked.
“We will clean it, but first we must drain the body.”
The two dug through dressers upstairs, grabbing old and expensive robes and shirts. They then dragged the body outside to where the deceased elf had kept a private garden. Thick brick walls guarded against any prying eyes. They dug a large hole in a corner and then bled the body dry, letting the fluids soak into the dirt. Occasionally, they would halt and listen, worried their violent struggle had reached unwanted ears. No curious investigators arrived, however, and they continued with their dark deed. When the blood dripping from the elf’s wounds became but a trickle, they filled the hole and moved on.
Using the clothes and robes from upstairs, the two brothers wiped away as much of Ahrqur’s blood as they could. They tossed the bloody clothes, the table, and the pieces of glass they into the fireplace and burned them. Harruq wrapped the body in spare blankets he found in a closet.
“Grab the sword,” he said as he hoisted the dead elf onto his shoulder.
“I have it,” Qurrah said, retrieving the elven blade and its dark green sheath from the floor. They gave one last look around. Everything was back in place. No drawers remained open or scattered, no blood stained the floor, and only the sword that used to hang above the fireplace was blatantly missing.
“Come brother, the night is waning fast,” Qurrah said.
Harruq shifted the body to a more comfortable position.
“Lead the way.”
The two slipped out the front door and into the night. Upon arriving home, Harruq tossed the body into the far room, stripped off his gorgeous black armor, and plopped down onto the bed.
“Night, Qurrah,” he said. “Sorry, but that elfie wore me out, and I never thought cleaning a place could be so tiring. I need to rest.”
“Good night, then,” Qurrah replied, crawling onto his side of the uncomfortable bed. He curled his rags about him and drifted off to sleep, pleasant memories of the battle looping in his mind.
11
Dieredon was stunned by the simple fact that he was awake. He had expected death. He had also expected darkness. Instead, the welcoming light of morning met his eyes when he leaned up and looked around. The elf smiled, then laughed. They had walked right over him but not seen him.
“Thank you, Celestia,” he said, his smile remaining even as the pain in his ribs and shoulder reawakened. The stinging, however, paled compared to the previous night. He sat up, cradling his right arm. A look around showed no sign of Velixar or his undead. The morning continued to be full of delightful surprises. The elf pulled out a roll of thick cloth from a knapsack and began bandaging his wounds.
“Aurelia, we need to talk,” Dieredon said while fashioning a sling for his right arm. “Those half-orcs have some very interesting friends.”
He stood, tested the tightness of his bandages, took up his bow, and then headed for town.
* * *
Harruq awoke late the next morning. His tired eyes winced at the sunlight. He covered his face with an arm, moaning against the evils of interrupted sleep. Then he remembered Aurelia.
“Aaah, I’ll be late,” he said. He rubbed his eyes once, and then blinked when he saw his brother leaning against the far wall, waiting for him.
“What will you be late for?” Qurrah asked, his voice hinting only mild curiosity but his eyes revealing otherwise.
“Nothing. Just my practice is all.”
“Indeed. Your practice. I have held my tongue, Harruq, but I will hold it no longer. Your hair is cut. You come back every morning bruised. What is it that you hide from me?”
Harruq lowered his eyes in shame. “It’s not…I didn’t mean anything…”
“What is it, Harruq? Tell me the truth.”
“I…I’ve been training with someone.”
Qurrah crossed his arms. “Who is he?”
The half-orc chuckled.
“She, not he. She saved my life, and she’s also been teaching me to read.”
“How did she save your life?” Qurrah asked.
“Remember a few months back when I came home beaten, bloody, and blue?” he asked. “Guards caught me trying to sneak inside Maggie’s Tavern. They attacked me, said they were going to arrest me as the Forest Butcher. Aurelia stopped them.”
Qurrah rubbed his chin, lost in thought. He glanced at Harruq, a tiny smile forming on his face.
“May I meet her?”
Harruq immediately began blubbering.
“No, but you see, I don’t know if she’s ready, and you might not…I need to let her know you’re coming first!”
Qurrah chuckled.
“Why do you worry?”
The big half-orc let his gaze drop to the floor. “She’s an elf. Is that alright?”
Qurrah walked over and put a hand on Harruq’s shoulder.
“You may be with whoever you wish, my dear brother. Just do not try to deceive me.”
Harruq nodded. “Alright, then you can come this morning. We’ve got to hurry though, or we’ll be late.”
“I am ready,” Qurrah said. “When you are ready, lead on.”
The big half-orc flew about their home, grabbing his old swords and donning his faded leather armor. When ready, he nodded to Qurrah, who let out a rare laugh.
“You are amusing, brother,” was all he said before following him out.
* * *
“This is it,” Harruq said as he gestured about the small clearing he and Aurelia sparred in.
“Where is she?” Qurrah asked. Harruq shrugged in response.
“She’s never here. She always shows up after I do.”
The smaller half-orc scanned the area, seeing no sign of the elf.
“Perhaps she is not coming,” Qurrah offered. “You are late, after all. On the other hand, perhaps I scared her off. I do have a creepy aura about me, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Suuuure, Qurrah,” Harruq said, crossing his arms as he waited. “You’re big and sc
ary and send little kiddies running when they see you on the street.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said a female voice behind the two brothers. “Any man who would hang out with a brute like Harruq must be a disturbed individual.”
Both turned to see Aurelia step out from behind a tree. She smiled at Harruq, and then nodded to his brother.
“Care to introduce me?”
“Oh yeah, this is—”
“Qurrah Tun, my lady,” Qurrah said with a bow that sent Harruq’s jaw dropping. “It is a pleasure to meet you. May I have the name of the one who has brought civility to my brother?”
Aurelia laughed at Harruq’s flabbergasted look.
“I am Aurelia Thyne,” she said, offering a quick curtsy. “And it will take years to civilize that big lug. I’m not sure I have the patience.”
“If your patience matches your beauty then my brother will soon be dressed in nobles’ finest, sipping wine and commenting on the taxing errors of our dear King of Neldar.”
Aurelia blushed. She smiled at Qurrah. “You surprise me. It truly is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And it is a pleasure to meet the elf that my brother is so smitten for.”
Aurelia giggled at Harruq’s squirming. “He’s a loveable puppy dog, but I do not think he is smitten. Are you, Harruq?”
“Um, course not,” the half-orc said. Aurelia and Qurrah shared a quick, knowing smile. The frail half-orc’s face lost much of its lifelessness, and a gentle caring filled his eyes. His seriousness quickly buried it, but Aurelia had seen enough.
“I shall leave you two to your studies and sparring,” Qurrah said after a long pause to torture Harruq. “Although I doubt the wisdom of leaving him alone with such a beautiful teacher.”
“Good thing you will not have to worry about that, considering I see no beautiful teachers around,” Aurelia replied.
Qurrah walked to Aurelia and bowed again, taking her hand in his and kissing it. As Aurelia smiled, he rose and whispered into her ear.
“He loves you, elf. I can feel it. Do you love him back?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Will you hurt him?”
“Never.”
“Then accept my blessing.”
Finished, Qurrah bowed once more, wished his brother good luck, and then trudged through the forest toward Woodhaven. When he was out of earshot, Aurelia walked over to Harruq and jabbed him in the side with a finger.
“Now why did you take so long to let me meet him?” she asked.
“I, but, he, but…”
“No buts. He was a perfect gentleman.”
The half-orc threw his arms up in surrender. He sat down beside her and did his best to focus on the letters. Aurelia seemed impressed enough with his progress, and they soon began working on simple words further into the book.
”Why does your brother speak so strangely,” she asked once they were done, trying to broach the subject casually. She sat stretched out on the grass, her legs crossed and her weight leaning back on her arms. The whole time they had taught she had found her mind wandering to the sick, spidery voice Qurrah spoke in, a voice that had nearly spoiled his otherwise surprising charm.
“Qurrah was sold to a necromancer. I told you that, right?”
Aurelia nodded. “I believe you did.”
“Well, he caught my brother practicing a spell once. Qurrah was forbidden from ever casting magic, yet he tried anyway. He’s like that, always been, always will. Anyway, his master took a hot poker and shoved it down his throat. Said that way he’d never cast again.”
Harruq chuckled.
“He was wrong, obviously. Qurrah was stuck talking like that. Like a snake hiss or a raspy whisper.”
“Or a dying man,” Aurelia whispered, so soft that Harruq could not make out her words.
* * *
The streets were all the same to him, so down them all he wandered. The image of Aurelia and Harruq danced in his mind, and conflicting feelings rippled through his chest.
“She seems a kind enough elf,” Qurrah said, talking to himself since he had no company. “Beautiful as well. Of course Harruq would be attracted to her. We have elven blood in our veins, do we not?”
The words felt hollow against the constant ache in his heart. Hard as he tried, he could not place it. Was it anger? No. Surprise? A little, perhaps. Jealousy? Certainly not. Worry? Fear? Doubt?
The only emotion he was certain of was confusion. So he walked and would walk for the rest of the morning, wishing there was something he could do to banish the sick, hollow feeling in his stomach. There was nothing he knew to do though, and that made it so much worse.
* * *
Their sparring ended, Harruq and Aurelia sat side-by-side against a tree, both glistening with sweat.
“Getting better,” the half-orc said. “You’re going to be beating my ass in a few weeks if you keep learning as fast as you are.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, patting his hand. “Your ass is safe with me.”
Harruq laughed at the absurdity. Aurelia, meanwhile, absently drew lines in the dirt. He watched for a moment, suddenly nervous and quiet. The words of his brother echoed in his head.
“Aurry?” he asked. “You said most elves remember when men were created…do you know how orcs were made?”
The elf looked at him. She was trying to read him, Harruq could tell, but he endured it without protest.
“When Ashhur and Karak warred, there were elves that sought to end it,” she said. “Against Celestia’s orders, they joined Karak, hoping their aid would finally end the conflict. When our goddess imprisoned the two gods, she cursed those elves. She stripped them of their beauty, their intelligence, and their long life. They weren’t evil, Harruq, but Karak offered them strength and they accepted it. The dark god drove them to war against elves and men. Finally the orcs were banished to the Vile Wedge between the rivers.”
“Do any still worship Karak?”
“Most don’t,” Aurelia said. “They’ve turned to worshipping animals now. I’ve even heard of some worshipping Celestia once more, hoping she will forgive them and remove their curse. They are a sad race, Harruq, but believe me in saying there is no shame in your blood.”
The half-orc shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet Aurelia’s eyes. He watched her trace lines in the grass. Seeking a way to lighten the mood, he asked her how to spell his name.
“Harruq?” she asked. “Hrm. My best guess would be H-a-r-r-u-k.”
A soft blow of air from her lips turned the grass to dirt so that a large space lay available for her to write on. She wrote ‘Harruk’ in the dirt with her finger, spacing out each letter. Harruq stared at the words representing his name, feeling a tiny thrill.
“How about my last name, Tun?”
She wrote out T-u-n. The half-orc stared, absorbing every detail of his name.
“Can I see your name?” he asked. Aurelia nodded, tracing her hand across the dirt.
“A-u-r-e-l-i-a.”
The half-orc smiled at the name.
“It even looks all pretty,” he said, eliciting a laugh. “Do Qurrah now.”
Aurelia did not begin writing immediately, instead thinking over the pronunciation.
“Qurrah,” she said at last. “It is a little tricky, but I bet it is spelled like this.”
Letter by letter she wrote ‘Qurrah’ in the dirt. Harruq stared at it, whispering his brother’s name as his eyes traced the letters. As he did, a thought hit him. His eyes went back and forth from his own name and Qurrah’s.
“You spelled my name wrong,” Harruq said.
“What? How?”
The half-orc reached over, erased the k in his name and drew a clumsy, capitalized Q at the end. He leaned back and smiled. The name in the dirt now read ‘HarruQ’.
“Why did you change it?” she asked. “It’s a rather odd spelling.”
“Look at my brother’s name,” he said. Aurelia did, and then she saw
what Harruq had also seen.
“Your name is your brother’s, only backwards.”
“Yup,” Harruq laughed. “Mum was always smart for an orc. Even knew how to read, if you believe that. Bet she did that on purpose.”
“Yes, but why?”
Harruq shrugged. “Thought she was being clever? Who knows! But I can spell my name now!”
“Good for you,” Aurelia laughed. “Now go on home, you bother me.”
“Well fine then,” the half-orc said, feigning insult. “I see someone’s jealous I saw it before she did.”
Harruq dodged the first two springs of water but the third one caught him square in the face. He was still dripping when he arrived home.
“You and her go swimming?” Qurrah asked him.
“Shut up,” was all he said.
Qurrah laughed. The pit in his stomach suddenly didn’t seem so awful.
* * *
“Aurelia!” Dieredon screamed to the wilderness. Birds whistled, but no elven voice spoke back.
“Aurelia!” he shouted again, wincing at the pain in his chest. After arriving in town, he had found one of his stashed healing potions and downed it. His ribs had gone from several pieces to just a single break, and his shoulder was slowly regaining strength. It would still be days before he was back to full health, days he did not have to spare.
“I’m here,” Aurelia said after the third yell from Dieredon. The elf turned and smiled at her even though she winced and moved to examine his arm, which remained in a sling.
“They are nothing,” he told her. “Please, you must listen to me. Stay away from the half-orcs. They aren’t safe.”
“Nonsense,” she said. She guided a hand across his chest, feeling the break. Her hand then traveled to his shoulder, and a deep frown grew across her face.
“Who did this to you?” she asked.
“The man in black, the one continuing to train the half-orcs. I approached him last night and he nearly killed me.”
Magic, Myth & Majesty: 7 Fantasy Novels Page 178
