FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  “The meat started bubbling and turning watery. It ran down his face, getting into his eyes. It burned him. His skin turned black, like it was rotting. He called me dogface all the time, Perry did. We were making him just like what he called me. A dogface. But it went wrong. I yelled at Qurrah to stop, and I think he wanted to, but he kept shrieking more of that curse. Then he…”

  Harruq rubbed his eyes and refused to meet Aurelia’s gaze.

  “And then Qurrah removed the spells that kept him from talking and moving. He screamed and screamed and he just, he just…he tore off his own face. He reached up and yanked that mess off him. He died. Qurrah fell over, too weak to stand. Never seen him so scared in my life. He kept staring at that guy’s face and blubbering, saying he didn’t mean to. That’s all he said, over and over. He didn’t mean to. He tried to stop. We burned the body and haven’t ever talked about it since.”

  Silence filled their clearing as Harruq’s story ended.

  “I asked for the first time you killed,” Aurelia said after an agonizingly long pause.

  “I know,” Harruq said. “And I did. I brought Perry to Qurrah. I failed to stop him when I saw something was wrong. If there is blame, it falls on me.”

  The elf stared off into the forest, her brown eyes seeing nothing. Harruq and Qurrah’s relationship could not be clearer to her mind. Qurrah directed, Qurrah ordered, and then Harruq bore the guilt and the blame. Did Harruq ever consider disobedience? She didn’t know.

  “We done here?” the half-orc asked.

  He left without giving her a chance to answer.

  The final days of sparring with Aurelia passed quietly and swiftly. Aurelia asked for no stories and Harruq told her none. They simply enjoyed each other’s company, fought to the extent of their skill, and then parted. On the fourteenth and final day, however, Harruq was in an unusually quiet mood. His mind refused to stay on the mock combat, and many times a quick jab of Aurelia’s staff cracked his arm or wrist when he should have easily deflected it away.

  Finally, the elf called it a day. She set aside her staff.

  “I thank you for sparring with me,” she told him.

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “Better to spar with someone than practice alone.”

  Aurelia smiled. “You’re different than what I expected, Harruq. Smarter, too.”

  Harruq blushed. “No need for lies,” he said.

  The elf laughed a little but said nothing. Instead, she walked over and gave Harruq a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Keep your big butt safe, okay?” she said.

  The half-orc tried to answer but his mouth refused to cooperate. Somehow, it seemed to have become unhinged. Besides, it wasn’t as if he could think of anything to say. All his mind could concentrate on was the feel of the elf’s soft lips on his cheek, the flowery scent of her perfume mixed with sweat, and the quick brush of her breasts against his arm.

  By the time his jaw and mind began working again, Aurelia was laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded. The elf smiled.

  “Nothing. Just a big stupid half-orc I’m going to miss. Bye-bye.”

  She waved and then vanished into the forest. For a long time, Harruq remained. He ran a hand through his hair and pondered what in the abyss was wrong with him.

  “Never get involved with elves,” he mumbled. “Never ever should have gotten myself screwed up like this.”

  But a part of him liked it, and that scared him even more.

  Harruq arrived at the clearing the next morning at the same time as always. Aurelia stepped out from behind a tree, her cold, emotionless face so different from the previous day.

  “We have sparred our two weeks, Harruq,” she said. “You have no need to come here.”

  “Yeah, well, you heard what I said yesterday,” Harruq said, his face red.

  “What was that?”

  He kicked a rock. “It’s better to spar with another, remember?”

  Aurelia frowned. “You know I am a sorceress. My time should be spent studying my craft. I only wanted to be proficient with my staff, not a master.”

  A tiny bit of panic crept into Harruq’s voice. “Yeah, but, but, it’s only an hour or two, and who said you were proficient anyway? I could beat you without trying, and so could anyone better than me. It would be stupid now to just stop and…”

  Aurelia crossed the distance between them and placed her hand across his mouth to shut him up. A grin lit her entire face.

  “Okay, Harruq. I will do as you wish and keep meeting with you.”

  “For sparring,” he said after she pulled her hand away.

  “Sure. That too.”

  Harruq blushed but let it go.

  “Well, you ready to go, little elfie?” he said, trying act gruff.

  “Of course.” Aurelia retrieved her staff, smiling to herself. The offer flattered her more than Harruq could know.

  “Well,” Aurelia said, twirling her staff. “Ready for a go?”

  “Oh yeah,” Harruq said, drawing his swords. “You’ve got no idea.”

  But she did, and it made her laugh all the more.

  Chapter VII

  “IT IS TIME I MET your brother,” Velixar said as the clouds rolled above, obscuring the waning moon. He had trained with Qurrah for almost two months, and over that time the half-orc had grown greatly in power. “King Vaelor’s nightmares have never been stronger, and he will act upon them soon.”

  “I am not sure Harruq is ready,” Qurrah said. “It is difficult enough bringing me here. The two of us sneaking out each night might be noticed.”

  “You will draw no attention,” Velixar said, ending the debate. “Bring him. Let him swear his life to me.”

  “As you wish, my master,” Qurrah said with a bow.

  “Hey Aurry, I got something for you!”

  Harruq tramped into the clearing, his two swords sheathed. Aurelia waited there, her arms crossed.

  “A present from a half-orc,” she said. “Should I be worried?”

  “Nope. Just take it.” He held out a small brown box. It was in poor shape, picked out of a heap of trash, but the elf could see the great care spent attempting to clean and fix it.

  “What is inside?” she asked as she took the box.

  “Open it,” Harruq said. “You’ll see.”

  Aurelia pried off the lid and peered inside. A small bouquet of flowers lay on the bottom of the box. She lifted them up, smiling at the violets, blues, and reds.

  “That’s sweet Harruq, but why?”

  “Just to, you know.” He kicked a rock. “Wanted to thank you for sparring with me,” he said.

  “They’re beautiful,” Aurelia said as she inhaled the aroma. “But why the box?”

  Harruq turned a new shade of red. “Well, I’d look weird walking down the street with those flowers in hand. I do have a reputation to keep.”

  The elf laughed. “Thank you, Harruq. Are you ready to begin?”

  He nodded, eager to have the awkwardness pass. Aurelia twirled the staff in her hands as her smile faded into seriousness. Harruq drew his swords, and then they sparred.

  “You’re out later than normal,” Qurrah said when Harruq returned to their home.

  “I get restless stuck in here,” he said. He dropped his weapons in the corner, shed much of his leather armor, and then released a loud groan as he settled down.

  “Harruq, I must ask a favor of you,” Qurrah said. He sat next to his brother.

  “Sure thing,” Harruq said. “What you need?”

  Qurrah fiddled with the bones in his pouch. “There is someone I need you to meet.”

  Harruq raised an eyebrow. “The person you’ve been sneaking off to each night?” he asked.

  “You know?” Qurrah asked.

  “Course,” he said, shrugging. “You’re sneaky, brother, but I’m not as deep a sleeper as you think I am. So who is this person?”

  Qurrah bit his lower lip. “His name is…he will tell you his na
me. He is powerful, Harruq. Very powerful. I’ve taken him as my teacher, and I want him to become yours as well.”

  Harruq raised his arms and flexed, watching his calloused hands open and close. “What can a teacher of magic offer me?” he asked.

  Qurrah chuckled.

  “You’d be surprised,” he replied. “But will you accompany me tonight?”

  “Fine, fine, I will,” he said.

  “You will impress him, Harruq, do not worry about that.”

  Qurrah left his brother to rest.

  “Grab my wrist,” Qurrah said as the dark cloud arrived that night. Harruq did so, and together they stepped inside. He felt an unseen hand grab his chest, and then they were running blind. The minutes crawled, their frantic breathing the only audible sound. Qurrah lagged further and further behind, unable to keep the pace. Harruq tightened his grip on his wrist and pulled him along. The terrain sloped beneath them as they climbed a hill. Another quick shift and they were stumbling down that same hill. The cold hand vanished. The cloud dissipated. Before him, standing with his arms crossed, waited Velixar.

  Qurrah stunned his brother by falling to one knee and bowing his head.

  “Greetings, master,” Qurrah said. “I have brought him as you asked.”

  Delighted, Velixar grinned as he surveyed the tall, muscular half-orc. As with Qurrah, he saw the untapped potential, incredible strength, and skill waiting for a purpose to harness it. The subtle shift of Velixar’s features slowed as he approached. When he spoke in his deep, rumbling voice, Harruq struggled against a sudden urge to join his brother on one knee.

  “So you are Harruq?” the man in black asked.

  “I am,” Harruq said.

  Velixar reached out a hand. It was frail, bony. So similar to his brother’s.

  “Kneel.”

  Harruq did so unwillingly.

  “I am Velixar,” he continued. “I am the voice of Karak. I’ve heard much about you, Harruq Tun, bastard child of an orcish womb. You are strong, and I sense your anger raging to be unleashed.”

  Harruq trembled, indeed feeling that anger. He felt it deep inside his chest, urging him to rise and defy Velixar.

  “The orcish were elves who swore their lives to Karak. Part of you still yearns to do what your ancestors have done. They reveled in bloodshed, warred against men who followed a false god. I offer you a chance to do as you were meant to and serve Karak. Answer me this question, half-orc. Do you love your brother?”

  A chill ran through his spine. He glanced to Qurrah, who still knelt. His eyes were focused on him. In them, he saw pride.

  “Aye, I do,” Harruq said. “I would do anything for him.”

  Velixar let his hand slowly lower until his fingertips hovered before Harruq’s forehead.

  “Then I ask you this: will you devote your life to the protection of his? Will you swear your life to me, as your brother has? I can guide you, teach you, and give you the power to protect him. Answer me.”

  Harruq looked once more at his brother and then let his head fall.

  “I swear my life to you. And to Qurrah.”

  “I would have it no other way,” Velixar said.

  A hand touched his forehead. All the anger that had raged inside Harruq roared like a fire suddenly loosed upon a dry forest. Sweat poured from his skin. His head jerked upward, his eyes soaking in the white of Velixar’s hand and the dim glow of the stars. Power flowed into him, his muscles stretching and tightening in a chaotic manner.

  “Rise, Harruq Tun,” Velixar said. “Revel in the power of Karak.”

  “By the gods, brother, if you could see yourself,” Qurrah said, his voice full of shock and wonder.

  “Just one god, Qurrah,” Velixar corrected. “All this by the hand of one. I am that hand.”

  Harruq stood and looked down. His arms and legs bulged with muscle. He flexed his arm and stared at the growth that traveled all the way up to his neck. He felt within himself a lifewell of energy, one infinitely deep.

  “Discard your swords, Harruq,” Velixar said. “You are the protector of my disciple. You deserve better.”

  He slid his two swords out from their sheaths, stunned by the ease in which he moved them. It was if they went from being made of steel to air. He tossed them aside. Velixar pulled from within his cloak a chest the size of a small stone. He placed it on the grass where it shone gold in the light of the stars. As the two brothers watched, he whispered a few words of magic, enlarging the chest to normal size.

  “Over the centuries, I have gathered many items to aid those who would swear their lives to me,” Velixar said. The locks clicked open, the lid raised, and then he reached inside and pulled out two swords sheathed in gleaming obsidian. “These swords were once wielded by Aerland Shen. He led the elves that aided Karak in the great war against Ashhur. When Celestia cursed his kind, they shared his curse.” Velixar smiled at Harruq, his eyes gleaming.

  “Long have I waited for someone to wield these blades. An elf crafted and used them in battle, an elf cursed into an orc. These swords can only be held by one who has the blood of both inside him.” Velixar held the hilts out to Harruq, who drew one from its sheath. The sword’s blade was deep black and wreathed in a soft red glow. He weaved it through the air, his mouth agape at the ease in which it glided.

  “They are not as long as your previous weapons,” Velixar said, “but you will adjust. These blades will make you faster and more skillful than ever before. Forget everything you know about yourself, and know only that you are unstoppable.”

  Harruq took the other sword and held both in his hands. He noticed the writing that flared on each hilt, one red, the other gold.

  “What do they say?” he asked, staring at them in wonder.

  “Condemnation and Salvation. You are judgment, Harruq. May it be swift and merciless.”

  Harruq sheathed the swords and clipped them to his belt. He knelt as his head swirled.

  “Thank you, master.”

  “None are more deserving,” Qurrah said, putting an arm on his brother’s shoulder.

  “There is one, and it is you, Qurrah,” Velixar said. He pulled out one item more before closing the chest and shrinking it back to its original size. In his hand remained a long black whip that curled about as if alive.

  “Weapons may not be your preference, but I trust you will find some use for this.”

  As both brothers watched, the whip burst into flame. Velixar cracked it once to the grass, instantly charring the green earth into ash.

  “Why?” Qurrah asked.

  “Magic is not your greatest weapon, my disciple. Fear and pain are, and this whip is capable of producing both.”

  The fire died as the whip wound itself around Velixar’s arm like a snake. He held it out to Qurrah, who took it with great reverence.

  “With but a thought it will strike as you wish,” his master told him. “Let it learn your heart, and you will find it more than sufficient.” Velixar held out his arms and smiled at the two half-orc brothers. They both knelt before him, basking in his unhidden power. “It is time you used these gifts. Not far is a small village. Go to it. Slaughter everyone without exception.”

  Harruq’s muscles screamed for use. He could barely register the request asked of him. All he could think of was wielding his swords in battle.

  “Which way do we go?” he asked.

  “I know the way,” Qurrah said, his eyes lingering on the whip curled about his right arm. “Their nightmares are crying out to me. You have prepared them, haven’t you master?”

  The man in black nodded. “They know death is coming. So go.”

  Qurrah bowed once more and then began walking west. Harruq followed.

  As the two left his sight Velixar broke out in hysterical laughter.

  “Yes, I do believe the time has come,” the man said to his master. “Celestia has faltered greatly to let them fall into our hands.” He paused, listening to the soft whisper of Karak in his mind. “Perhaps. Wit
h Qurrah’s magic as strong as it is, I have an ally worthy of your name. All of Neldar will burn, and thereafter, you will have your freedom!”

  Velixar traveled west, following unseen after his two apprentices. He would witness their first true test, and he would bask in the bloodshed that was sure to come.

  The two traveled over the gentle hills, only the rough gasps of Qurrah’s breathing breaking the silence. As the two neared the village, Harruq dared to speak.

  “Qurrah,” he asked, “who is this Velixar?”

  “He is a teacher,” the half-orc whispered in between ragged breaths. “One wiser than I ever thought possible.”

  “So we’ll do what he says? We’ll kill the village, all of them, without reason?”

  Qurrah stopped their progress by turning and placing his hands on his brother’s shoulders. His eyes burned into Harruq’s, so strong in force that the larger brother could not look away.

  “You have done much for me without question, without pause. This is different. Velixar has given us the power and privilege to do what we were always meant to do. I need you to embrace this. Velixar’s reason is the only reason we need, that we will ever need. It is in our blood, our orcish blood, and that is a weight even your muscles cannot hold back. We are killers, murderers, butchers, now granted purpose within that. That is our fate. That is our reason. Do you understand?”

  Harruq’s fingers traced the hilts of his new swords. He knew what his brother asked. He had killed before, but this was different. This was a complete surrender to the murderer within. He thought of his vow to Velixar, and also to his brother. Obedience. Loyalty. He had sworn his entire life to them. What else did he know? What else could he be?

  He thought of Aurelia only once before he spoke. Her face was a white knife in the darkness of his mind, and he buried her deep within his heart as he yielded to the wisdom of his brother.

  “Yeah,” Harruq said. “I understand.”