Aurelia and Delysia entered next, each giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. Lathaar came next, casting a grin at Brug. Harruq entered last, his weapons slung over his shoulders and his face sunken.
“We’ll find him in time,” Tarlak said, slapping his back. He pulled his hand away at the glare he received. The group each made their way upstairs to change out of their wet clothes and armor. Tarlak whipped up a quick breakfast. A simple wave of his hand, and honey-soaked rolls and roasted pork slabs covered the table. Brug and Haern joined him. One by one the others arrived, quiet and solemn in the early morning.
As everyone ate in silence, Lathaar decided it was time to speak.
“I must be leaving soon,” he said, drawing many glances his way.
“I thought you wanted to rebuild the Citadel?” Tarlak asked, licking honey off his fingers. “What changed?”
“Nothing has changed,” the paladin said. “But the Sanctuary must be warned. Qurrah knows of the book’s location and might come looking for it. Others might learn from him, as well.”
“You got nothing to fear of Qurrah,” Harruq said. The food he ate did little to satisfy the pang in his gut, especially as his brother was spoken of as a villain. “He’s done nothing to harm us, any of us. Only Aullienna.”
“He cannot heal her,” Tarlak said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.
“You don’t know that,” Harruq countered.
“Harruq,” Lathaar said, his voice drawing the half-orc’s gaze into his unflinching own. “I will speak with them. Calan is a brilliant man, but the clerics of the Sanctuary have helped me with wisdom unparalleled. I do not wish to offer false hope, but there is a chance they will know of a way to restore your daughter’s mind.”
“And the book?” the half-orc asked.
“It stays,” Lathaar said. “I am sorry.”
“We are grateful,” Aurelia said, taking her husband’s hand in hers and squeezing hard enough to hurt.
“Aye,” Harruq said. “Grateful.”
Lathaar decided to leave without sleeping, wanting to cover as many miles as he could before the setting of the sun.
“Your daughter may not have much time if she is to be healed,” he explained. “I do not claim wisdom in the ways of magic, but I would rather not risk more than I already have.”
Before he left, Lathaar pulled Tarlak aside to talk.
“I will find out more about the girl,” he whispered.
“You said that already.”
“No. Tessanna. She too closely resembles Mira. The first time I talked with Cleric Keziel, I felt he kept things from me. This time, I will hear the whole truth.”
“Godspeed,” Tarlak said, hugging his friend.
“Ashhur be with you,” Lathaar said.
“Do you want a portal?” Aurelia asked him before he left.
“Can you send me directly to the Sanctuary?” he asked. The elf frowned and shook her head.
“Too far. Is there anywhere closer?”
The paladin thought, then nodded.
“Send me to Haven,” he said.
“Very well,” Aurelia said. Where the Rigon River ended its divide through Dezrel, it forked, creating a delta filled with rich and fertile land. Amidst this farming paradise was a small town named Haven. A month’s travel away, but still closer than the Sanctuary, which nestled amidst mountains on the far southwest corner of the continent. She ripped open a blue portal, kissed his cheek, and joined the rest in waving goodbye. The paladin kissed his fingers and then waved back. He stepped in. The portal closed behind him.
“Good riddance,” Harruq said, returning to the tower.
“What’s up his butt,” Brug asked, glancing back.
“Just leave him be,” Tarlak said, sighing.
Aurelia’s hand on Brug’s shoulder showed she agreed.
Harruq entered his room as if a stranger. He opened the door slow and quiet. A quick scan showed his daughter in the corner, a soft smile on her face. She was carving something in the dirt with her fingers. Her joy appeared honest, and that burned him all the worse. She seemed so normal he almost walked over, took her in his arms, and bounced her on his knee. But he didn’t.
“Having fun?” he asked, taking a tentative step forward. Aullienna looked up and smiled, overjoyed to see her father. She stood, scattering her markings with the bottom flap of her dress. She ran across the room, laughing. Harruq knelt, tears already in his eyes. Qurrah’s spell had failed, or perhaps merely run its course like a disease. He scooped Aullienna up into the air, smiling although he cried.
“I missed you, daddy,” she said, kissing his nose.
“I missed you too, cutie,” he said back. Her words melted away his doubts. He returned her kiss on the nose, grinning. His first thought was to hold her forever. His second thought was to call for his wife so she could see. The little girl squirmed in his arms, laughing at something she found hysterical.
“You look funny,” she said, swiping at his cheek.
“How’s that?” he said.
“Do it again,” she cried.
“Hun, do what?”
Her face scrunched, and she pulled back in his arms. “Daddy, I don’t like this.”
“Like what, Aully? I’m not doing anything.”
The girl only squirmed harder, pushing back against his chest. “Stop it daddy, stop it!”
She slapped him, once, the thin nails of her fingers cutting into his gray skin. No blood flowed, but the wound was more severe than a stake to his heart. He set her down, ignoring the marks she made across his hands. Her feet did not support her at first, so she clumped to the grass. With a primal cry, she leapt to one wall. Spinning around, she eyed her father with shaking eyes, bird eyes in the face of the serpent. Her kneels curled to her chest. She hid half her face behind them.
“Stop it,” she whispered into the skin of her arms. “Please, daddy, stop it.”
He collapsed, his heart breaking. He wanted to die. Shuddering sobs straight from the stomach ripped from his lips.
“Damn you, Qurrah,” he said. “Damn you.”
Aurelia found him as such: a crying, pitiful sight. Without a word, she knelt beside him, wrapped her arms about his neck, and kissed him. He latched his hands onto her, a drowning man clutching the sides of a boat. He buried his face into her neck, the tomb of her hair about his head the only comfort he could find.
“She was fine,” he managed to say. “When I came up, she…she was fine.”
“Be glad for it,” the elf said, gently stroking the side of his face. The words seemed hollow to her, but they comforted him. Under Aullienna’s watchful eyes, the two rocked in the illusionary grass, beneath a blue sky that was a lie, in a peaceful world that did not exist.
After five days, Qurrah decided it was time to receive his answer. He stood behind his home, wincing under the glare of the rising sun. Tessanna sat nearby, running an old brush of her mother’s through her great length of black hair. It had been cut only once since her mother’s death, a clumsy attempt by her father after the first time he raped her. Despite its length, the hair shimmered with a livid energy in the morning light, washed and well cared for. Qurrah found himself mesmerized by the mystic beauty of his lover. A smile dared grace his lips.
I am so lucky to have you, he thought. So very lucky.
She caught his stare and smiled.
“What are you thinking about, dirty boy?”
“Nothing,” he said, turning away. “Nothing at all. Stay silent while I speak with my brother.”
She shrugged and resumed brushing. Whispery words slipped off Qurrah’s tongue, a simple incantation. In the middle of the Eschaton tower, a shadowy imitation of himself rose from the floor. It stared with dead eyes that saw only the most basic shapes and colors.
“Greetings, Harruq. I trust the past few days have been well.”
The abyss has seen happier days. The deep voice rang in his head, coming from nowhere. A second voice spoke, that
of the wizard.
It is a shame you aren’t here to enjoy them with us. Come, join our breakfast in person. I’ve got hemlock and poisonberries, special treat just for you.
“You are not witty, wizard, so please do not make me endure any more comments,” Qurrah said, his voice sounding far away. “Have you accepted my request?” He listened for his brother, but instead Tarlak spoke again.
You aren’t getting the book, butcher. You never will. You’ve ruined his daughter for nothing. But I’m sure you feel it justified.
Qurrah’s forehead sloped downward, narrowing his eyes to slits.
“I do not jest, only I have her cure,” he said. “Yet you refuse what I ask?”
I’m sorry brother, he heard Harruq say. You will never get it. I’m sorry for striking at you. You weren’t the Reaper. We know that now. Please, if you are angry, be angry with me. Do not bring my daughter into this. Please. I beg you, as my brother, whatever you wish to do to me, just make her well.
A strange feeling welled up in his chest, constricting and burning at once. To hear his brother say there was no chance for the book, and such an offer…
Qurrah?
He closed his eyes and turned away, scattering the shadow form into nothingness. He stumbled one way, then another, fingers pressed against his forehead.
You will never get it.
“Why?” he said. “What is it you fear from me?”
I beg you, as my brother…
“Qurrah?” Tessanna asked, seeing the troubled look on her lover’s face. “Is something wrong?”
I’m sorry for striking at you.
“I am fine,” he said, stumbling for the house. “I just…let me sit for awhile.”
He ran to the house, flinging open the door with a burst of magical power that splintered it down the middle. He collapsed into the chair beside the fire, cursing repeatedly. How dare his brother attempt to guilt him? How dare he?
“I don’t care if you know now,” he said, covering his eyes with his hands. “I do not care! I do this for her, not for myself.”
…just make her well…
The thought would not leave. He would do anything in the world for Tessanna. Harruq would do anything in the world for his daughter. Of course he would. So why did he refuse the book? What if they never brought it to him? The half-orc wrenched his head violently side to side. Was it possible? Did Aullienna suffer without reason? Without hope?
“Damn you, Harruq,” the half-orc said, burying his head in his hands. “You couldn’t let things go as they should. You never can.”
So many promises he had made. So many he might never keep.
A floorboard creaked. He glanced up to see Tessanna peering at him with an intolerably shy look on her face.
“When will I get to see Aullienna?” she asked. He glared, so fiercely, so heartlessly, that she stepped back. Tears swelled in her eyes.
“I knew it,” she seethed.
She fled from the house. Qurrah gave no chase. He had no words.
29
Come on,” Tarlak said, rising from the table. “We all need a break. Four nights straight searching for our suddenly vanished killer, it is enough to wear anyone out.” He glanced to where the shadow form of Qurrah had been. “That sure isn’t helping, either.”
“What I need is sleep,” Harruq said.
“A caravan from Mordeina arrived yesterday,” the wizard insisted. “Exotic wines, a few nifty toys, and some new clothes. We can find something for everyone.”
“Let’s go, Harruq,” Aurelia said, nudging her husband in the side. “Or are you afraid of a little shopping?”
“Not much for wine,” Brug muttered, “but I’ll take a chance for some good old Kerish ale snuck in among the bunch.”
“And healing salve for burns,” Haern said. He offered everyone a wink. “They actually feel quite fine. Delysia, you’re a goddess.”
“Only close,” the priestess said, blushing.
“Well, you all can go without me,” Harruq said. “I’m going to take a long, long nap.”
“You don’t want to go?” Aurelia asked, looking offended.
“How many times I got to say the word ‘nap’?”
“Well, fine,” the elf said. “Stay and mope then. I’m going. When do we leave?”
“Right now,” Tarlak said. He took out a brown bag tied with a white string at the top. It jingled when he shook it. “And unless any of you get too crazy, I’ll be buying.”
Haern smiled, and Brug cheered. The mercenaries got up to leave. Only Harruq remaining seated at the table, picking over scraps of his meal. The mercenaries filed out the door, but before she left, Aurelia leaned next to her husband one last time.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” she asked.
“Someone’s got to stay with Aullienna,” he said, meeting her eyes briefly.
“Try to cheer up,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I always need your strength. I’m not as tough as I look.”
He gave her a slight smile and kissed her back.
“I’ll try,” he said.
“Thank you.”
She left to join the others. Harruq waited until the door shut, then stood. He climbed the stairs, one heavy step at a time. Perhaps he was depressed, but he was tired, very tired, and the allure of sleep was a strong one. When he reached the top he paused, took a breath, and stepped inside. Aullienna looked down from her bed, her face devoid of emotion.
“Hey, Aully,” he said, dropping his swords to the ground. He unbuckled his armor, casting it carelessly to the grass. He watched her as he placed his hands in a fist and popped his back. “Sure you don’t want anything to eat?”
The little girl shook her head, still staring at him.
“That’s fine,” he said, lumbering to his bed. “I’ll be napping. Need anything, just wake me, alright?”
She didn’t nod. No surprise, really. He had begun to recognize a few moods. This was her apathetic one. He probably could have stripped naked, set himself on fire, and done a dance before getting a reaction. The half-orc sighed. At least she wasn’t screaming or cowering in fear.
“Nighters,” he said, sliding under the sheets and burying his head into a pillow. He tossed, he turned, and he groaned and sighed. A few more tosses and turns later, he succumbed. His eyes rolled back, his breathing slowed, and precious sleep came.
Aullienna watched him, strangely intrigued. She recognized him, and some part knew him as a protective and loving figure, but she knew this like she knew that a fall would hurt her, or if she tried to eat the grass in the room it would dissolve into nothing in her mouth. Her interest in the sleeping man passed. Boredom came next. All she could remember was this same, bland room. Grass she could not tear. Sky that was always the same, with nothing to see in the clouds. Wind that was always soft.
She climbed down the stairs from her bed, careful to be silent. She didn’t want to wake the sleeping man. When she reached the ground, she paused. The wildness in her eyes ruined an otherwise adorable image of her crouched like a kitten in the grass. When the sleeping man did not move, she crossed over the grass as quick as her tiny legs could go before dashing down the stairs.
She wanted grass that was grass. It didn’t make any sense to her, but few things did, lately. She paused in front of Brug’s room, where the scattered pieces of armor and weapons looked like a wicked forest where the leaves cut skin and the trunks gleamed in the daylight. The little girl giggled. That was what she wanted. Trees. Leaves. A forest.
When she reached the bottom floor of the tower, Aullienna rushed for the door. She stood on her tippy-toes, her tiny fingers slipping around the handle. She more fell than pulled, but her weight was not enough. Angry, she kicked the door, the obstacle to her freedom. No matter how much she stretched, she could not reach high enough. She was trapped inside the stupid, boring tower.
Suddenly, she heard a rattling sound. The door shook, and then with a loud creak, it opened. Chilly air swi
rled inside. Aullienna beamed. Smells, true smells, filled her nose. Dew, grass, and in the distance, a forest.
The door opened all the way, spilling sunlight into the room. She squinted to see. Before the door, his red eyes gleaming, his black robes flowing in the wind, stood Velixar.
“Where might you be going?” he asked.
In answer, she put a finger to her mouth and shushed him.
“Sleeping man won’t want me to go,” she said.
“But you want to go, don’t you?” She bobbed her head up and down, fascinated with how the stranger’s face kept changing. “I thought so.”
He knelt down and put his hands around her. She shivered at his touch.
“Back there is a pretty forest,” the man in black said. “It is a special forest. You see, the faeries live there. Do you want to see them?”
“Promise you won’t tell the sleeping man?” Aullienna asked.
“I promise. Now go play, and watch for the faeries.”
She gave him a shy smile, turned, and then ran around tower. At the sight of the forest, she forgot all about the strange man in black. To her mind, the forest sparkled in purples and reds, a magical place full of adventure. There would be no gibbering goblins in there. Only faeries, beautiful ones with hummingbird wings and sparkling dust marking their trail through the air. She ran, wild, free. Her foot stubbed a rock, and she fell. Her hands scraped against the ground, yet she felt no pain. The forest lost its allure for a brief moment, lost to the mesmerizing view of blood trickling down her palm.
Curious, she licked it. The dirt was nasty, but beneath was a sweet taste that filled her with energy. She ran for the forest.
Harruq awoke with a need he was immediately angry for not dealing with before he lay down to rest. Grumbling, he staggered out of bed and reached for his chamber pot. As he did, he saw the door was open. He stood there, looking at it, as he thought this should alarm him. Why would a door alarm him? It was open. Did that mean something?
“Aullienna,” he said, much of the drowsiness leaving him. He looked about the room, calling his daughter’s name.
The Half-Orcs: Books 1-5 Page 54
