The Cost of Betrayal (Half-Orcs Book 2)

by David Dalglish

  “Qurrah?” he asked. “Be right down. Where is he?”

  “Enjoying breakfast with the others. It is an early morning for the tower. We can practice once you have talked.”

  Haern saluted with a saber before vanishing down the stairs. Harruq did his business, threw on some clothes, and rushed after.

  The whole gang, even the late-sleeping Brug, was at the table feasting.

  “Qurrah!” Harruq shouted, leaping down the last few steps and hugging his brother, who nearly gagged on some toasted bread.

  “Good to see you, Harruq,” Qurrah said, coughing throughout the entire sentence.

  “Looks like we won’t be rid of them after all,” Tarlak said, grinning at the two visitors. “Turns out they can’t pass up a free meal.”

  “Your gracious company will always prove most alluring,” Qurrah said, each word drowned in sarcasm.

  “Usually Tar’s gift is sending people running the opposite direction,” Brug said.

  “What was that, tough guy?” the wizard asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s right, nothing. I have a sex-change wand and I know how to use it, so no sassy comments.”

  “Not even from me?” Aurelia asked, batting her eyelashes.

  “No, not you,” he answered. “Besides, what fun is there in using the wand on you? I don’t cast that way.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Harruq said. Tarlak pulled a pink wand out from a pocket and waved it menacingly. The half-orc feigned terror, then sat down next to Aurelia and started wolfing down his food.

  After breakfast, the two left the tower, Harruq eager to speak with his brother.

  So are you going to be staying?” Harruq asked as they walked, the tower a fading image behind them.

  “That is what I came to tell you, brother,” Qurrah replied. “We have a home now, far from others. It is peaceful there. More than we deserve.”

  “What’s going on?” Harruq said, crossing his arms. “What is with this girl? You barely know her, yet you’re going to live with her in the middle of nowhere?”

  Qurrah shrugged. “Yes, that is our plan. Does this bother you?”

  “Of course it does! I’ve spoken to her, what, three times? I don’t even know her!”

  “I do,” Qurrah said, a cold look entering his eyes. “And your opinion doesn’t matter. I will be with her, regardless of what you say.”

  Taken aback, Harruq could not keep the hurt out of his voice.

  “What’s happened to you?” he asked. “Your opinion was all that ever mattered to me.”

  Qurrah felt guilt creeping in his heart, strange and unwelcome.

  “You have found a new home, one I cannot be a part of. I dare not say I love Tessanna, but I will be with her until the day of her death. Please, try to understand.”

  “I’m going to marry Aurelia,” Harruq blurted, immediately regretting it. He stood there, waiting like a man with his neck on the chopping block. When the axe fell, it was soft as a feather.

  “Do as your heart wishes,” Qurrah said. “As will I. She is a fine woman, elf or not.”

  The warrior bobbed his head up and down, wishing he didn’t blush so easily.

  “At least you’ll come visit us here in the tower, right?”

  “Yes, I will. This is not abandonment, only a mere separation. Our paths broke and split with the death of Velixar. We both know that.”

  Harruq gestured to the black cloth his brother wore. “Is that the path you took up?”

  A bit of sadness flickered in Qurrah’s eyes, like the glow of a firefly.

  “I chose the only path before my feet,” he said. “Goodbye, Harruq. Live well, and be happy. Nothing more could we ever have asked for.”

  He turned to leave, stopping only when Harruq called his name.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “If you need anything, I’ll be here for you,” he said. “Anything at all.”

  “I know,” Qurrah said. Pulling his hood up to guard against the increasingly cold wind, he returned to the tower. Harruq stared a long while after as he vanished behind one of many rolling hills.

  Tessanna was waiting for Qurrah when he returned, sitting beside the front doors of the tower with a guilty expression on her face.

  “I got in trouble,” she said in response to his questioning look.

  “Then all the wiser to return home,” he said, offering her his hand. She took it and stood. Before he could leave, the door cracked open. Tarlak emerged, beckoning the necromancer with his hand.

  “A moment, if you would, before you go,” he said. Qurrah shrugged and stepped inside. Tarlak slammed the door shut after him, his face deathly serious. All the others were gone, except for Delysia, who sat at the table and stared at her hands.

  “What is it, wizard?” Qurrah asked.

  “I know I owe her for saving my sister,” he began, “but I am begging you, reconsider what you are doing. She is not well!”

  “I know better than you what has been wrought upon her,” the half-orc said, his tone vile. “Do not dare tell me what to do.”

  “Right now you are in my tower, so I’ll do as I damn well please,” Tarlak said. “And you best listen. She hurt my sister, half-orc, and I don’t take kindly to that type of thing.”

  “Hurt her? Why?”

  “She knew,” Delysia said, her voice shaking. “Somehow, she knew. She asked for my hand, and I gave it to her. She cut my palm and…”

  She could not finish.

  “Wanted to taste such aged purity,” Tarlak finished, his voice a whisper. “It’s like wine, she said. I don’t care what you say has been done to her. Her mind is not right!”

  “I know that,” Qurrah shouted. “That is exactly what I wish to heal. She saved Delysia’s life, so consider the debt repaid. She has suffered beyond what you can imagine, so before you impose your limited view, know that I have been inside the chaos that is her mind. I will fix it. I will put it right, and not a soul is going to stop me.”

  “Her mind cannot be fixed,” Tarlak shouted back. “Even Calan and all the priests of Ashhur are not strong enough to heal her.”

  “Then I will become stronger than Ashhur!” Qurrah screamed before doubling over in a violent coughing fit. All was silent in the room except for his labored breathing.

  “Leave my tower,” Tarlak said, his voice eerily calm. “You are free to return, but Tessanna is not allowed within my walls until you pull off this miracle you delude yourself into searching for.”

  Tessanna leapt to her feet as Qurrah stormed out of the tower.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “We’re leaving,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

  The two slipped behind the cover of trees and were gone. Harruq returned much later, and with stones in his gut listened to what his brother’s beloved had done.

  They were a sullen pair sitting around the fire, faces dark, mouths closed, and thoughts turned inward. Qurrah poured over Pelarak’s spellbook while Tessanna traced her dagger across her skin. A soft giggle brought his attention to her smiling face.

  “I’ve forgotten how good this feels,” she said, tensing her arm so that the blood fell on the fire. “Qurrah, why did we not go to Veldaren and take someone for you to experiment upon?”

  The half-orc closed the large book.

  “I realized something as I read over the tome. Even if I can mimic the way your mind has become, I know little of how to affect it.”

  Tessanna licked her bloody arm, staining her lips. “So what do you plan to do?”

  “Pelarak recorded all his knowledge on the darker side of magic within this tome. He also has many spells, but it will take time to study them. Until I have mastered these spells, we can delay the messier side of our undertaking.”

  “What am I to do while you study?” she asked, her eyes locked on a rune she carved across her arm.

  “Cut. Sleep. Return to Veldaren. You are free to do as you wish.”

  “
I wish to stay with you,” she said. She ran her hand down her arm, smearing blood all across it.

  “I wish you to stay with me as well,” he said, opening his book. “I’m sure we will think of ways to pass the time.”

  Tessanna looked at the half-orc, smirking. “Oh, I bet we can.”

  “I wasn’t thinking sex, but yes, that would be one of the more preferable ways to pass the time.”

  “More preferable than reading some old dusty book?” she asked, crawling around the fire like a cat.

  “Much more preferable.”

  To his surprise, he didn’t really mind the blood from her arm smeared across his naked skin.

  14

  Harruq’s days began with Haern’s training, and they ended with Aurelia and the stars. The half-orc tested the waters by holding her hand one night, and he found the lightness of his heart and the fierce tingling of his fingers quite addictive. Soon, they relegated the stars to only occasional viewing, as they found each other far more interesting.

  Qurrah had been gone for a month when Harruq popped the question… to Haern.

  “If I wanted to propose to someone, what should I say?” he asked after a rigorous morning of sparring. Haern removed his hood, shook his blond hair, and then raised an eyebrow.

  “Shall I assume there is a certain elf you wish to propose to?”

  Harruq shrugged. “Maybe. Any ideas?”

  Haern rubbed his chin, amused.

  “First, set up the scene. Flowers. Stars. Make sure you’re alone. Oh yes, and make sure you bathed recently.”

  “Ha, ha. Be serious.”

  Haern laughed. “I am serious. No one wants to marry a smelly half-orc. Besides, there are other reasons, if you know what I mean.”

  The half-orc’s reaction showed that he did. “Just shut up and go on,” he said.

  “Not sure how I can do both, but very well. Tell her how much you love her, want to be with her, and then present her with the ring. This is after you get down on one knee, of course.”

  “Why one knee?”

  The assassin gave him an incredulous look. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

  Harruq crossed his arms. “Now when would I have been taught all this? Tutors? My parents? We street urchins aren’t known for playing dress up.”

  “My apologies. You get down on one knee, like this, and then take her hand when you tell her all the mushy stuff.”

  Tarlak came around the corner, a scroll in his hand, just as Haern was illustrating the proposal maneuver. He stopped, blinked twice, and then burst into laughter.

  “Am I interrupting anything important?” he asked. Haern leapt to his feet, and for the first time ever, Harruq saw him blush.

  “Helping out my dear half-orc friend, here,” he said, trying, and failing, to act nonchalant. “What is it you need?”

  Tarlak gestured with the scroll. “Got a message for the King’s Watcher.”

  Haern took the scroll, unfurled it, and read. A smile grew on his face as he did.

  “Excellent,” he said, handing the scroll back to the wizard. “I’ll retrieve it tomorrow morning.”

  “Retrieve what?” Harruq asked.

  “The King doesn’t pay Haern just in gold for his services,” Tarlak explained. “He pays in magical items. This one is for five more years of loyalty.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” the half-orc said.

  “You’ll see tomorrow,” Haern said, winking. “By the way, do you have a ring to give Aurelia?”

  “Aye.”

  “Where did you get it?” Haern asked.

  “Ring?” Tarlak interrupted. “So you finally found the guts, eh?”

  “Aurry gave it to me,” Harruq said. “So she’s not going to be too surprised.”

  “Proposing with the girl’s own ring? Nonsense!” Tarlak wrapped an arm around the giant man. “Listen here, we have one of the finest metalworkers in all the realms right in this tower, and he’s not too bad with jewelry, either. Find some way to pay him, and I’m sure Brug can make you a ring that’ll knock the eyes out of Aurelia’s head.”

  “Brug? He’d feed my manhood to a dog if I gave him a fork.”

  “All show. I’ll come with you. Trust me, that guy is a softie at heart, and when he hears it’s for love, he’ll melt like a tub of lard.”

  “Alright,” Harruq said, shooting Haern a worried glance as Tarlak led them into the tower.

  Not no bloody-abyssy-way!”

  “Like lard?” Harruq muttered, jabbing Tarlak with his elbow.

  “I know you have plenty of precious gems for all your little toys,” the wizard said. “Are you telling me you can’t spare one?”

  “Not just my gems you want,” he said, storming to the other side of his room, not bothering to step over the pieces of armor. Metal clanged and banged as they flew this way and that. “You want me to take the time to carve a ring, decorate it, and why not, even throw on a magical effect or two. No problem! I’ll drop everything just for that.”

  “Harruq needs a ring to propose to Aurelia with, and you’re the best for the job,” Tarlak argued.

  “Propose!” Brug’s eyes bugged out of his head. “This lame-wit porridge-skin muscle-brained dog is going to marry HER? Go find a clump of dirt for your ring and propose to a pig somewhere, that’d be a more appropriate coupling.”

  Tarlak winced and waited for the half-orc to detonate. He didn’t. Instead, Harruq said, “I’ll make sure Aurry knows. I’m sure she’ll be thankful, if she believes you made it.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Brug asked. He kicked his grinding wheel. “I can make any damn thing in all Dezrel. You telling me she won’t believe I could craft a gorgeous ring?”

  “Well, not unless your name was on it or something,” he said with a shrug. “Come on, a pudgy-fingered roundbelly like you making rings? I’m surprised Tarlak thought you could.”

  “My fingers are not pudgy!” he shouted. “And I know what you’re doing, making me all upset and proud so I’ll prove you wrong. Well, what if I make a ring, give it to her, and you don’t ever get to see it at all?”

  “Brug,” Tarlak said, his patience clearly ended. “Just shut up, do a good job, and accept my thanks, his thanks, and Aurelia’s thanks. Understood?”

  “Fine. I’ll do it, but it won’t be my best work or anything. And I’m only doing it for Aurelia. If she’s going to be married to that idiot, at least she’ll have something pretty to help endure her wedding day.”

  “Very funny,” Harruq said, and then, quieter, “I’m gonna kill him, Tar, I swear, I’m gonna kill him.”

  “Thank you, Brug,” Tarlak said, shoving Harruq out as fast as he could.

  The next day, Harruq waited for Haern, running his hand across the dew-covered grass and dozing off. He awoke at the sound of approaching footsteps.

  “Please forgive my tardiness,” Haern said, pulling back his hood. Youthful joy sparkled in his eyes. “Ready to begin?”

  Harruq drew his swords. “So what’s your new toy?”

  “It will be more fun just showing you,” he said. He drew his sabers and tapped them together, a sign to begin. Harruq approached, lacking the reckless hurry he had shown in his earlier sessions. The two circled each other, each waiting for the first move. An obvious feint by the assassin sent Harruq in motion, one sword slashing high, his other kept back to block. Haern rushed forward, his swords high.

  And then he was not there.

  The half-orc slashed air, staggering forward as the expected block did not come. He whirled about to see Haern directly behind him, sporting a huge grin on his face.

  “How in the abyss did you do that?” he asked.

  “You mean this?” Haern asked. His entire body grew fuzzy and then he was gone. A finger tapped his shoulder. Harruq jumped. Haern stood behind him once more.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

  “Short range magic,” Haern explained, showing him a simple s
ilver band on his right hand. “It places me seven feet directly ahead. It is but a parlor trick, one that you will grow accustomed to. Those who have not fought me before, however-” his grin was dark and mischievous, “-I only need to fool them once.”

  “Craziness,” Harruq said. “Pure craziness. But just straight ahead?”

  “Yes. Not up or down or backwards.”

  “Good. Ready to go?”

  The assassin tapped his blades. Harruq charged, and even though he still batted his swords away with ease, Haern was pleased by the increased speed and skill his apprentice showed. A quick parry sent Salvation out of position, and a saber stabbed in to take advantage. Harruq, having purposefully given the opening, twisted to the side, the thrusting cutting wide. He slashed with both swords at the over-extended assassin.

  When he struck air, the half-orc turned and swung, expecting his foe to be lunging from behind. Instead, he saw no one.

  “Clever,” Haern said, poking a saber into his back. “But predictable.”

  The half-orc turned around, his face the epitome of annoyance.

  “You said you could only go forward,” he said.

  “I did,” Haern said, his grin wide. “I never said I couldn’t turn around and activate it immediately after.”

  “That’s it. I’m not sparring you anymore.”

  “Alright, alright. I won’t use it for the rest of the day. Happy?”

  “Yup.” Harruq clanged his blades together, their ring matched by another from Haern’s. “Let’s rumble.”

  And rumble they did, and for the first time Harruq scored four kills to Haern’s ten. His previous best in a day was two.

  A week later, Harruq heard loud grumbling coming up the stairs. He lay on his bed, recuperating after a rough assignment from Tarlak to show a coldhearted merchant that his wealth didn’t make him immune to retribution and justice. The half-orc’s ribs still hurt from a tumble with the merchant’s guards.

  “That you, cheerful?” he shouted to the stairs.

  “Nah, it’s the ogre patrol, here to take you back to your swamp.” Brug was in a surlier mood than usual, and he stomped into the room wearing a scrunched frown.