The Death of Promises h-3

by David Dalglish

  “Hold yourself together,” Qurrah said, grabbing his lover by the arms. “What is the matter with you?”

  “No!” Tessanna screamed, shoving him aside. She leapt in between Velixar and Darnela. Her right hand faced the elf, the left pointed directly at the man in black. She looked each in the eye as the orcs cried out in anger and confusion. Pure magical essence curled around her fingers, throbbing with her heartbeat.

  “If either of you moves I will leave nothing but dust for the wind to spread,” she said. Wisps of black smoke floated from the corners of her eyes.

  “Of course, my lady,” Velixar said, seeming unsurprised by her actions.

  “Are you mad, girl?” Darnela asked. Her hair danced inside her pillar of fire. “Do you know what he is? You travel with him, yet still defy his will?”

  “I don’t need to know,” she answered. “Let those who believe Velixar’s words leave your camp in peace. The rest may stay under your command. Is this clear?”

  “I accept your proposal,” Velixar said, bowing. “Not your command.”

  For the first time a bit of anger flickered in his eyes, but Tessanna was unconcerned. She looked to the elf as the magic on her fingers crackled with dark lightning.

  “Do you accept?” she asked her.

  “You are a disgrace to the goddess,” Darnela said, her jaw clenched tight. “But I will accept. Take the faithless and go.”

  Velixar looked around the camp. Almost half the orcs knelt, their heads bowed as the others nearby beat them and cursed the prayers they prayed. The man in black lifted his hands and called out to them.

  “Come east, children of Karak. Abandon your weakness, for it is your blood that shall unite the tribes against Neldar!”

  Hundreds of orcs took up their possessions and did as they were told. Tessanna remained between the two powerful casters until the stream of orcs had fully left the camp.

  “I will see you again, Darnela,” Velixar said as he bowed. “I still have a favor to repay you.”

  The priestess only turned and stormed off, the pillar of flame dissipating into fading embers in the air. When she was far enough away, Tessanna closed her hands and let go of the spells she had prepared. Velixar immediately grabbed her by the wrist.

  “We will talk,” he said, his red eyes seething.

  “I know,” she replied almost casually. He let her go and stormed away. Qurrah took her in his arms, holding her as her resolve vanished.

  “Shush,” he said, stroking her hair as he guided her east. “You did no wrong here.”

  “I know,” she said, drying her tears against his robe. “But I risk what we have when I do this. He needs me, and he needs you, but he’s patient, Qurrah. So patient, so dangerous.”

  “Why’d you do it, then?” he asked her. She looked up to him, kissed his lips, and then held his hand as they walked. She did not answer.

  “Very well,” Qurrah said. “I do not need to know the reason. I will still defend your choice to my death.”

  “I know,” she said, gripping his hand tighter. “But it’s good to hear you say it anyway.”

  V elixar was no stranger to leading armies, especially one made of orcs. They had little supplies, no food, and over three hundred mouths to feed. If they were to survive, they had to pillage. He marched throughout his small army, shouting and encouraging. He knew he needed a warchief, so he looked for the biggest and the strongest. He found his perfect candidate in a one armed mountain of muscle named Gumgog. His eyes were yellow, and his nose flattened upward like a pig.

  “Celly wanted us to be nice,” he said when Velixar asked why he left Darnela’s camp. “Gumgog don’t like to be nice. Gumgog like smashing, so you let me smash, me lead like you say.”

  Velixar grinned, liking the orc already. Where his arm had once been was now a giant club with a stone tied to the end. To call attention to himself, Gumgog took the second ‘arm’ in his other hand and used his entire body to slam it to the ground.

  “GUMGOG SPEAK!” he shouted, and all around orcs quit their squabbles to listen. Velixar laughed. He had traveled with several warchiefs, some appointed by him, others already in power when he enlisted their service. He easily liked Gumgog the most.

  “We going to the Mugs,” Gumgog shouted to the three hundred. “We going to make them help us, maybe swear allegiance to us. Then we go to the Duns and the Glushes, and make them do the same! We make an army, and we follow the human in black. All hear me?”

  When an orc near him raised a hand to speak, Gumgog gripped his giant club and swung in a great heaving motion that used his entire waist and chest. The stone connected against the orc’s skull with a giant crack. The limp body flew ten feet before crumpling along the grass.

  “Any others need help hearing me?” Gumgog bellowed. No help needed. All understood.

  W e can travel at least a day without food,” Velixar said as he joined Qurrah and Tessanna by their fire. “I’ve got several hunting and butchering any animals we find, but the wedge is pitiful for living off the land. However, that should buy us time until we reach the first of the Mug camps.”

  “Who leads them?” Qurrah asked.

  “Lummug,” Velixar said. “At least, he did last I was here. You never know with orcs, do you?” The man in black chuckled. “No, and you never know about how children of a goddess will react either. You cost me troops, Tessanna. Even worse, you went against my will.”

  “I never swore my life to you,” Tessanna said. She sounded sleepy, and her eyes drooped as she stared at the fire. “I swore it to Qurrah. And how many troops did you lose? A hundred? Two?”

  Velixar narrowed his eyes.

  “Those that died I would have brought back,” he said. “At least six hundred would march by my side.”

  “How many orcs are there in all the tribes?” Tessanna asked. “How many thousands? You whine like a child.”

  She laid her head against Qurrah’s shoulder and closed her eyes. The half-orc looked to his master, trying to gauge how much of his anger was truth and how much was bluster. He doubted Velixar had ever been challenged as he had been by Tessanna.

  “Will the other tribes swear allegiance to you?” Qurrah asked, hoping to shift the topic of the conversation.

  “In times past I have enlisted the aid of their warchief to keep the orcs in line. The time for such trickery is past. The orcs will swear their loyalty to me, and Karak, or they will die.” He pointedly looked at Tessanna. “Does that please our princess?”

  The girl smiled.

  “Yes, master, but don’t worry about pleasing me, I’m here to please you. Isn’t that right, Qurrah?”

  The half-orc stammered an unintelligible response. Tessanna laughed and buried her face into his robes. Velixar stood and turned his back to them, and in the light of the fire he seemed a hunched, angered demon.

  “Sleep well. The Mug tribe will not follow, not until we show them our strength. You will kill tomorrow, both of you. Be ready for it.”

  “Yes, master,” Qurrah said.

  “And Qurrah…” Velixar shifted his head. “There is a world beyond you and your lover. Never forget that.”

  He left them to the dwindling light of the fire.

  T essanna’s arms were empty when she awoke. She pushed herself up on her elbow and glanced around. The morning was still early, with only a sliver of the sun climbing above the horizon. The orcs were still asleep.

  “Qurrah,” she asked, rubbing away the tiredness from her eyes. She saw a hunched form far from the camp, sitting cross-legged with his back to her. She stood, pulled her thin clothing tight about her, and started walking. In the cold she could easily see her breath. The sky was gray and overcast. She wondered if it would snow.

  The lone figure shifted, and as she neared she could see it was Qurrah busy reading Velixar’s journal. Her slender mouth frowned at the sight of him, cold and shivering with the book on his lap.

  “You should be by a fire,” she told him. The half
-orc looked up from his reading.

  “The cold helps me focus,” he said. “Velixar was right, Tessanna. That damn specter’s always been right.”

  She sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist.

  “What’s bothering you, love?”

  “I’ve become passive,” he said, slamming the book shut. “I do as commanded, as expected. I disappoint him.”

  “That’s easy to fix,” she said, brushing away his bangs to kiss his forehead. “Take charge. Give your opinion, whether he wants it or not. You are no fool and no weakling. Even the wisest would listen to your advice.”

  “I plan on doing more than that,” Qurrah said as they stood together. “Much more.”

  He returned to the camp. In her heart she wanted to follow, but she knew Qurrah needed to find the answer on his own. The life he had shared with Velixar was unknown to her. So she stayed and watched the sun rise, letting the little warmth it offered seep into her pale skin and sad black eyes.

  North of the camp Velixar waited, also watching the rise of the sun. He sensed Qurrah’s approach but did not acknowledge him.

  “Where is the next camp?” Qurrah asked. The man in black crossed his arms and remained quiet. “I asked where is it?”

  “Several miles north. About four hundred orcs, just a pittance of the Mug tribe’s numbers. Why do you ask?”

  “When we arrive I will recruit them. I know what will make them bow.”

  “I have led many armies, Qurrah,” Velixar said, raising an eyebrow. “And I have had thousands of orcs swear allegiance as my puppets. Have you?”

  “I have the blood of orcs in my veins,” the half-orc said. “And I will make them respect it. They will swear to you, all of them.”

  “They will swear to Karak,” Velixar corrected.

  “I don’t care. I don’t do this for him.”

  The man in black chuckled and gestured back to the camp.

  “Yes, I know. You do it for her. For Tessanna. Whether she wants it or not.”

  “She does,” Qurrah insisted.

  “How many will you kill to heal her mind?” Velixar continued. “You would sacrifice this entire world just for that? And what happens, Qurrah? What happens when Karak comes and rids her of the child, of the apathy, of the wild animal? Will you recognize the girl that remains? Will the lives you have ruined be justified?”

  The half-orc glared at Velixar, meeting the burning red eyes without fear.

  “You question what I do? You question the very acts you yourself wish me to commit?”

  “It is not the end, Qurrah, it is the means that matters!” Velixar insisted. “It is what we do, every bit of it, that defines who we are. I do not want you as my disciple if your allegiance to Karak is only of convenience.”

  He quieted as he turned back to the sunrise. Qurrah looked to the ground, remembering what he had told his brother when he questioned their killing of children. Take pride in everything you do, he had told him. So did he take pride in what he did now, marching alongside orcs in a campaign to release a war god into his world?

  “You were so promising,” Velixar said, breaking their silence. “For a time you saw what Karak offered. Everything you have now, Karak gave you. All you desired was power and the skill to use it, and I gave you both. In my absence you lost your way. You’ve succumbed to womanly flesh, forgetting that it is a pleasure, not a purpose.”

  “What is it you want from me?” Qurrah asked.

  Velixar turned, and the force in his eyes sent Qurrah to one knee.

  “I want you at my side, but not for her. Not to mend a mind that is beautiful in its chaos. I want you to relish, and worship, every second of what you and I are, and what we are meant to do. You once relished the thought of Neldar burning. I want you to feel that excitement once more.”

  “What of my brother?” Qurrah dared asked.

  “Ashhur has corrupted him. I made a choice, him or you. You were always my disciple, and he, your bodyguard. Without you I have no need of him. So I chose you.”

  The half-orc stood, a sudden fear piercing his gut. He met Velixar’s gaze.

  “What do you mean you made a choice?” he asked, his voice nearly shaking with kindling rage.

  “I killed Harruq’s child,” he said. Each word pierced Qurrah like a burning arrow. “I sent her into the woods and told her to play. It needed to be done.”

  “You?” Qurrah said, his fists shaking. “You turned my brother against me. You tore apart our lives like we were your playthings!”

  “I did it with a heavy heart!” Velixar shouted back. “I had to make you see what you yourself were in danger of becoming. Harruq turned his back on Karak. I would not lose you as well.”

  A terrible silence fell between them. Qurrah felt all he knew flailing in a cyclone. He remembered the pain on Tessanna’s face, and how she had shrieked against him in her sorrow.

  “Do you understand now,” Velixar asked. “Aullienna died because you thought of nothing else but your lover. You felt your end justified your means, but the truth is your actions should justify themselves. I will kill thousands, but I do it for my god, without remorse, without pity. You will kill as many, but what phantom do you do it for?”

  “You think me a disappointment,” Qurrah said, his soft voice gradually rising in anger and volume. “But I will show you the strength I have gained. When we reach the camp, I will make them bow and serve Karak. I will not cheapen my sacrifices, Velixar. I will not regret what I have done.”

  He stormed off. The man in black watched him go, his calm facade turning into pride.

  “Welcome back, Qurrah,” he whispered to the morning air.

  Tessanna found him an hour later, marching north with nothing but his whip and Velixar’s journal. His breath was labored and weak, and his stride unsteady, but his eyes were wide with fury and determination.

  “Why did you leave me?” she asked him as she dismounted from Seletha.

  “Do you want what I have offered?” Qurrah said, whirling on her and grabbing her shoulders. “Do you truly want your mind made whole?”

  “I want what you want,” she said, shying away from him.

  “No!” Qurrah shouted, not caring that he spit blood as he did. “What is it that you want? Do you want me to change what you are?”

  The girl bit her lip and shook her head.

  “I like myself, Qurrah. I thought you liked me, too.”

  The half-orc collapsed to the ground and buried his face in his hands.

  “Then what is it you want,” he asked. “For what reason can I justify the massacre of thousands? I was to sacrifice this world for you, Tessanna. I still will. But I march with the murderer of my brother’s daughter. Karak has guided my life as if I am a pet, trained to fight and kill, but for what reason?”

  The shyness vanished as Tessanna heard his words.

  “Velixar killed Aullienna?” she asked. The half-orc nodded. She knelt down and pulled his face up so they could look eye to eye.

  “Do you know what I want?” she asked. Tears filled her eyes as he shook his head. “I want to live in a world where I don’t feel my mother watching every step I make, preparing me for a fate I don’t want. I want to live where no god will meddle in our lives and kill those we love to ensure our paths.”

  “How,” Qurrah asked. “I would accept that so desperately, but how?”

  “Velixar offered us escape,” she said. “Thulos can send us away from Dezrel. We keep our promise, and he keeps his. That is what I want.”

  “But what we do, is it wrong?”

  Tessanna crossed her arms and frowned at him. “Since when do you care about right and wrong? Too many people are suffering. I don’t want us to be one of them.”

  The half-orc reached out, and this time she did not shy away. He pulled her close and kissed her lips.

  “Before you I wanted nothing but power,” he said.

  “And you still should,” she whispered. “I like it when you’re
strong. I always have. Don’t change on me now.”

  For the first time since Aullienna’s death, he felt the confusion that had clouded his mind finally lift. He kissed her again, nearly shoving his tongue down her throat as he held her tight.

  “I’ve almost forgotten what it means to be stronger,” he told her when their lips parted. “What it means to take a life and truly enjoy the taking. I will remember today. Come with me. The camp is not far. We’ve already passed several of their banners.”

  “Velixar and his orcs are not far behind,” she told him.

  “We don’t need them,” he said, taking her hand. “Not when we are together.”

  The girl smiled. “That’s the Qurrah I fell in love with.”

  Hand in hand, they marched north, feeling warm despite the cold winter air.

  10

  T he Mug tribe was the largest and the strongest of the orc tribes, with numbers in the thousands. Their territory was spread across the Vile Wedge, occupying more than a third of all the land between the two rivers. Camps waving the image of a bloodied wooden cup of ale dotted the entire wedge, each one ruled by a warleader who in turn pledged allegiance to Lummug.

  “So what is the plan?” Tessanna asked as they walked through a small valley. Hills stretched to either side of them with towers built atop. Each waved a banner of a bloodied mug. Despite the drunkenness of the sentries within, it would not be long before one glanced down and spotted them.

  “They will not expect attack during winter,” Qurrah said. “Food is poor, and the cold is vicious against morale. Our campaign will be swift and short, and Velixar’s undead will need little food.”

  At the end of the valley was the camp. Wooden palisades surrounded it, their tops carved into spikes. A giant door made of tree trunks remained wide open. Two guards slumbered in the cold.

  “I know we have surprise,” Tessanna said. “What are we to do with that surprise?”

  “Make them kneel,” the half-orc said, grinning.

  “So dramatic,” she said. “How about specifics.”

  “No plan,” Qurrah said. “So no specifics. I will show them my power, and I will make them obey. The orcs are brutish children. They need to believe their lives are at stake when I tell them to bow. Nothing else matters.”