The Half-Orcs: Books 1-5

by David Dalglish

  “Karak and Ashhur spoiled their creations. Crops grew bountiful and healthy. A single prayer cured all sickness and disease. Mankind spread across the land with remarkable speed, forming two kingdoms. East of the Rigon River was Neldar, ruled by Karak. To the west was Mordan, governed by Ashhur. However, there was a delta at the end of the river controlled by none. Within were a few small villages with no government, no ruler. Karak brought his troops to establish order. Ashhur was quick to defend it, and in turn, claim it as his own.”

  “You speak of centuries ago,” Qurrah interrupted. “Yet you claim to be one of Karak’s first.”

  “I was his high priest, half-orc,” Velixar said, his eyes narrowing. “He blessed me so I would never die of sickness, age, or blade. I have watched the world evolve, and I have watched gods make war. Do not accuse me of having a lying tongue. The truth is always enough, even for those who walk in the darkness.”

  “Forgive me, master,” Qurrah said, bowing. His teeth chattered in the cold.

  Velixar waved a hand. The dwindling fire between them swelled to a healthy blaze.

  “The two brothers were arrogant to think they could create a paradise with a creature so full of faults as man,” Velixar continued. “I saw the battle waged in the small town of Haven, there in the center of the delta. It is an awesome thing to watch gods duel. Ashhur fled before either could strike a killing blow. I summoned our armies, as did the priests of Ashhur. Think now of the many deformed creatures that walk this world. Know they were all mere animals before the gods turned them into soldiers for their war. The elves were vicious in this time, slaying any who dared come near their forests. But some elves did side with Karak, determined to help end the war so the world could heal.”

  “Did Celestia not interfere?” Qurrah asked.

  In the darkness, Qurrah watched as Velixar’s face curled into a deep snarl.

  “Celestia befriended both brothers, but she took Ashhur to be her lover. She begged each to stop, though neither listened. It was a dark time, Qurrah. All squabbles and wars since are a pittance compared. Ashhur’s great city of Mordeina nearly toppled to my hand, but then the priests of Ashhur brought the dead to life to fight against us. Yes, Qurrah, it was the priests of Ashhur, not Karak, who first created the undead. We were beaten back, forced into Veldaren with little hope of survival.”

  The man in black removed his hood to reveal a long scar. It ran from his left ear, across his throat, and down past the neck of his robe. “I died in that battle. Celestia had begged Ashhur to make peace. He should have listened. The two gods fought once more as I remained a rotting body.”

  The fire between the two suddenly roared with life. Its flames danced in the air far above their heads. Amongst the fire’s flickering tails, Qurrah saw images take shape. They were scattered and random, without time or order. He saw a small town besieged by corpses. He saw massive armies of undead marching across the plains to battle a horde of hyena-men. He saw the walls of a great city smashed to pieces as men climbed over, swords high and armor shining. And then he saw Karak and Ashhur cross blades.

  He tore his eyes from the fire, unable to withstand the strength of the image. The fire shrank back to a small blaze.

  “Most men cowered at the sight of it. Do not be ashamed,” Velixar said. “There might have been a victor, but Celestia interfered at last. She cast each god far beyond the sky, to where she herself had made a home. She gave half to Ashhur and half to Karak. The souls of the soldiers who fought and died alongside them were given to their masters. She cursed the elves who sided with Karak, branding them the ‘orcs,’ or ‘betrayers’ in her tongue. Once the brother gods were locked away from the world, and each other, Celestia issued her final decree.”

  “What was it?” asked Qurrah after Velixar remained quiet for a moment.

  “She ordered that Ashhur and Karak continue the fight they refused to end for all eternity. Many centuries have passed, Qurrah. I am the hilt of Karak’s sword, the greatest priest in the war against Ashhur, and I have not relinquished my position.”

  The man’s eyes grew so bright that the half-orc felt the urge to grovel.

  “Ashhur himself killed me. Karak brought me back. He cursed those who had failed him, changing his realm into the abyss. I was the only one he spared, and he gave me life with all of his dwindling power.”

  The two sat in silence as the fire crackled between them. Qurrah dwelt on all he had heard, trying to decide what he believed. Strange as it seemed to him, he accepted every word.

  “So what the priests say of how Karak is the god of death and darkness,” Qurrah asked, “is it true?”

  Velixar’s eyes narrowed, and that vicious snarl returned.

  “There were good men and evil men in his abyss after the war. The punishment was not to be eternal, not then, but Celestia chose Ashhur over my master.” Qurrah watched as Velixar’s hands clenched so tight his nails dug deep into his skin. Flesh tore, but no blood surfaced. “She took all who were good out of the abyss and gave their care to Ashhur. Left with nothing but thieves and murderers, Karak had no choice but to make it eternal. The abyss is dark, Qurrah, and there is fire, but there is also order.”

  “What do you wish of me?” Qurrah asked. Velixar’s face softened into a dark smile.

  “To fight the war. Celestia may have condemned it to continue forever, but she slumbers now. Harnessing enough power, we can defeat the goddess. We can bring all of Dezrel under our control and declare victory for Karak.”

  Qurrah stood, his eyes glimmering with anticipation. “Where will we strike first?”

  “Woodhaven is a symbol of cooperation between races. That must be ended. We will burn Veldaren to ash thereafter. Once all of Neldar is in chaos, we may proceed however we wish.”

  “Will we strike the elves?” Qurrah asked.

  “Why do you ask?”

  The half-orc laughed.

  “Mother was an orc who had lived here in Woodhaven. I do not know her name, other than what she instructed my brother and I to call her: Mama Tun. Our father was from Woodhaven, she told us. We later found out he was an elf, bizarre as it seems.”

  “It is a wretched elf who would mate with an orc,” Velixar said.

  “No true elf would,” Qurrah said. “This means he was weak to have done so. His weakness has seeped into my blood.”

  “You hold no weakness,” the man in black said. “The blood of orcs and elves is more similar than either race would care to admit. What happened to your mother?”

  “I don’t know. I was sold,” he said, his face visibly darkening.

  “To whom?”

  “I was never given his name,” Qurrah said. His voice, already soft and quiet, grew even quieter. “He was Master. That was all that mattered.”

  “Tell me of your time with Master,” Velixar ordered.

  “There is little to tell,” Qurrah said. “I was his slave. I cleaned up after him while he fed me scraps of his failed experiments. I slept in a cage. One time he caught me practicing words of magic. As punishment, he shoved a hot poker down my throat, ruining my voice into what you hear now. One night tribes of hyena-men stormed his tower, wanting vengeance for the many of their kind he had taken to butcher and maim.”

  Qurrah kept his eyes low, unable to meet Velixar’s gaze.

  “I was afraid when they came, but as I watched Master slaughter hundreds of them with his golems and his shields of bone I felt at home amid the carnage. I knew then what I was to become.”

  “How did you escape?” Velixar asked.

  “Master exhausted himself defending his tower,” Qurrah said, waving a dismissive hand. “He collapsed at the very top. I cast a spell upon his throat, filling it with ice. I watched him die and then I left that disgusting place forever.”

  “You were a worthy apprentice,” Velixar said. “Especially to learn such a spell on your own. Your master was blind.”

  “He was weakened,” Qurrah said. “Even the clumsiest of fight
ers can slay a sleeping man.”

  “How old were you then?” Velixar asked.

  “Nine,” Qurrah said.

  The man in black shook his head. His expression showed there would be no further argument. “If you had been mine at the age of nine… my previous apprentice Xelrak held but a shred of your strength.”

  Qurrah straightened at the name. “I have heard of Xelrak. He toppled the Citadel.”

  Velixar smiled as he remembered a cherished memory. “Indeed. It was his finest hour, and a significant victory for Karak. The paladins of Ashhur are all but crushed.”

  “What happened to him?”

  His burning eyes held no kindness when the man in black spoke.

  “Xelrak failed. Despite all the power I granted him, he failed. He tried to destroy the Council of Mages, but they destroyed him instead.” Velixar gave a greedy look at Qurrah. “He was but a starving boy when I found him. I gave him a name and lent him my power. It is how I have survived all these centuries. I do not risk my own life, choosing instead to givemy power to others. I am the hilt, and my apprentice is the blade. But you…”

  Again that greedy look.

  “You are extraordinary. I do not have to give you unearned power. I must simply guide and instruct.” Velixar stood, and when his power flared, Qurrah fell to his knees and worshipped his new master. “You are what I have searched for all these years. You and I will destroy this world side by side. We will lay waste to all life and put absolute order upon every last soul.”

  “Teach me,” Qurrah said, his mouth buried into the dirt. “Show me the power I have sought for so very long.”

  Velixar looked down at his thin, ragged apprentice. “Rise. Let us begin.”

  Velixar taught until the stars retreated from the obnoxious sun. Qurrah returned home, his eyes sagging and his mind exhausted. When he climbed into bed, he fell asleep instantly. Not long after, Harruq rose, took his swords, and left for his own meeting.

  “You’re late,” Aurelia said, stepping out from behind a tree. Harruq shrugged and held out two branches he had whittled into crude imitations of swords.

  “Had to make something for me to spar you with,” he said.

  “Those sticks are unnecessary,” Aurelia said as she took up her staff, the tiniest hint of a smile curling on her lips. “Draw your swords.”

  “Are you sure?” Harruq asked, raising an eyebrow and gesturing to her completely unarmored figure. “I’ll only end up hurting you.”

  “You won’t,” she said. “Here. Strike me with your blade.”

  The half-orc’s jaw dropped a little. “You’ve lost your mind?”

  “I said hit me, orc!” Aurelia shouted.

  Harruq snarled, and out came his weapons. He swung for her face, turning the blade at the last moment so the flat side struck her. The sword smacked off Aurelia’s cheek as if she were made of stone. The clear noise rang throughout the forest.

  “What the abyss was that?” Harruq asked.

  Aurelia laughed. “I’ve cast an enchantment that protects me from your blades.”

  Harruq looked at his weapons and then shrugged. “Interesting. Do I get one too?”

  In answer, Aurelia smacked her staff against Harruq’s shin. The half-orc roared in pain as he hopped up and down on one foot.

  “Damn it!” he shouted. “What was that for?”

  “Hitting you is my reward for doing well,” she said. “Consider it my way of making sure you don’t go easy on me. So are you ready to begin?”

  Harruq mumbled something obscene. He nodded, swinging in a low chop. As his sword struck her staff, the sparring began.

  Aurelia was familiar with her staff, the wood comfortable in her grip. She had no sense of tactic, though, and all it took was a quick feint or two before she left herself horribly open.

  Harruq used only one sword, running it in slow circles, stabs, and the occasional feint. He enjoyed the steady workout but savored even more watching Aurelia move gracefully through the air. Whenever his eyes lingered too long, however, he’d feel the sharp sting of Aurelia’s staff against his arms or chest.

  When they finished, Harruq slumped onto his rear and rubbed his bruises.

  “I shouldn’t be able to hit you,” Aurelia said as she sat across from him, her legs tucked underneath her.

  “Yeah, so?” Harruq asked.

  “So tomorrow don’t let me hit you,” she said.

  The half-orc mumbled and rolled his eyes. Aurelia leaned back against a tree, her eyes studying him. Her look gave him shivers, both good and bad.

  “Tell me about yourself,” she said. Harruq raised an eyebrow. “Your childhood. Your likes. Your life.”

  “For what reason?” he asked.

  “I heard those men. I saved you from the gallows. I would prefer to know more about the life I spared.”

  Harruq leaned his head on his fist and stared at the grass, growing increasingly uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Not too much to tell really. My brother and I grew up in Veldaren, and about three months ago the king kicked out all elves. Believe it or not, that included us.”

  Aurelia grabbed his sleeve to halt him. “First, who is your brother? Second, since when are you elvish?”

  The half-orc chuckled, but still kept his eyes downward. “Our mum was an orc. Dad was an elf. Never met dad, and mum sold Qurrah and me when we were both little. I ran away and lived on the streets of Veldaren. Found Qurrah about a year or two later, hiding in the streets after he escaped his master. My brother, well…”

  She watched as Harruq struggled through some sort of internal debate. His brown eyes finally rose to meet hers.

  “Qurrah’s like you, but not. You can cast magic right?” Aurelia nodded. “Well, he can too. But he… he’s different. When we were kids, he found a little mouse. It was dead as dead can be. He closed his hands around it, just like this, and then whispered some words he learned from secretly watching Master.”

  “Master?” Aurelia asked, interrupting him again.

  “Yeah,” Harruq said, frowning. “My brother didn’t have too much fun before I found him. We were both sold, but I escaped. Qurrah, though, he was sold to Master...forget it, that’s for another time. All that matters is that he learned those words before he met me. He whispered something, opened his hands, and then just like that the mouse got up and started running.”

  “He brought it to life?” she asked.

  “Well…” Again he stopped, obviously uneasy about what he wanted to say. “It was still dead, but it was moving now. That make sense? Qurrah could make it do whatever he wanted. He let it run off and die, that first one he showed me. He was pretty shy about it. Don’t think he had any idea how I would react.”

  Harruq suddenly stopped and laughed. “You should have seen us, Aurelia. We spent the rest of the day chasing after mice so we could stomp them and have Qurrah bring them back to do tricks.”

  Aurelia smiled at the burly half-orc.

  “You really made them do tricks?” she asked.

  “Well, yeah, some jumps and flips. We tried to see how high we could make one climb before… what?”

  She was smiling, but when pressed she refused to answer him. Instead, she stood, brushed off her dress, and flipped her hair over her shoulders. “Same time tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Harruq said. “But how many times will we be doing this?”

  Aurelia shrugged. “Until I feel you have paid me back.”

  “So what, a couple days?”

  “You know very well I can’t obtain any proficiency in such a short time,” she said.

  Harruq shrugged. “Fine then,” he said. “How long you want me stuck here with you?”

  “Two weeks,” she said. The elf danced away behind a tree. Harruq followed, but all he caught when he stepped around was a tiny line of blue fading on the afternoon wind.

  “That was interesting,” he said before returning to Woodhaven.

  Deeper in the forest, Aurelia stepp
ed out of a glowing blue portal. An elf waited there, an ornate bow slung across his back.

  “So do you think it could be him?” he asked her.

  “Perhaps,” Aurelia said. “I think it’s in him. Something is wrong, though. He’s too light hearted, too free.”

  “What does that mean?” the other elf asked, his fingers twitching at the string of his bow.

  “I don’t know, Dieredon.” Aurelia sighed. “It means he’s capable, but would not do so without reason. If he’s butchering the children, he’s doing it for someone else.”

  “Who?” Dieredon asked.

  She shrugged. “My guess is his brother. He sounds like a necromancer.”

  Dieredon nodded. “I’ll find him and watch him for a bit. If either of them slaughters another child, I will see it and put an end to it.”

  Aurelia pulled a few strands of hair away from her mouth and tucked them behind her ear.

  “This seems like a small matter for a scoutmaster to be involved. Are you sure you have nothing more important to do?”

  “Murdered human children?” Dieredon shrugged. “Let the humans and orcs do as they wish, but when they butcher their young they must be made to suffer. You were right to contact me, Aurelia.”

  “I hope so,” Aurelia said. “I saw one of the bodies, and what was done to him, those vile carvings…”

  Dieredon kissed her forehead.

  “Put it behind you so you may focus on the task at hand. If the half-orcs are guilty, they will make a mistake soon enough. Your eyes and ears are vital in confirming their guilt.”

  “I’ll try to keep him talking,” Aurelia said. “And I’ll find out more about his brother. I hope I can bear Harruq’s company in the meanwhile. He can be quite a brute sometimes.”

  “Come now,” Dieredon said, his face suddenly brightening into a smile. “He sounds like a real fine man to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if you two got married. Perhaps a kid or three. Little gray-skinned Aurrys crawling over the forest, wouldn’t that be cute?”

  She smacked him with her staff and then teleported away, leaving Dieredon to laugh long after her departure.

  “Where did you get the bruises?” Qurrah asked when Harruq returned to their squalid home.