“You’re a sweetie,” Aurelia said as he closed his eye. “But let’s try to keep the dying to a minimum, shall we?”
“She’s here,” Antonil said, straightening up. The others stood and tried to look proper, except for Mira, who just crossed her legs and peered curiously at the queen’s arrival. She was flanked by twelve guards, each wielding a shield and spear. The four at the corners carried torches, and it was by their light they saw her highness. She looked tired, and her face appeared to have aged years in just hours. Harruq wondered just old she was. He had originally thought the woman in her fifties, but at the lines that creased her face and the way her hair was pulled back, thin and fading, he wondered just how off he was. She stopped and talked to a guard who had been waiting for her, listening as he explained what had happened during the execution.
“Very well,” the queen said when he had finished. “King Copernus, please, come forward so I may speak with you.”
“I am here,” Antonil said, bowing low. “What do you require of me?”
“Did you have any part in the serious transgression that transpired here?” she asked.
“Your majesty, I was merely an observer. Those that saved Bernard are members of a fallen guild of Veldaren and hold no loyalties to me.”
The queen nodded. They could see her mind racing behind her eyes.
“My guards also tell me,” she said, “that these newcomers claimed the burnings and murders as their own deeds. Do any here dispute this?”
“It certainly casts doubt on Bernard having a hand in any of it,” Tarlak dared say. The queen frowned at him but held her tongue.
“Your majesty!” a voice shouted from behind them. The guards stepped apart as Hayden came hurrying through, clutching his holy symbol that dangled round his neck. He stopped at the queen’s side and bowed. When finished he pointed straight at Tarlak and smiled.
“It is him,” Hayden said. “He harbors the murderer, a member of his Eschaton mercenaries. They came into my beloved home, killed more than twenty of my priests, and escaped with the aid of him and the elf.”
The queen’s face darkened, and it seemed she aged yet another ten years.
“Is this true?” she asked Tarlak. “Is a member of your mercenaries murdering in my city?”
The wizard chuckled a bit, just quiet enough for Harruq to hear.
“No, your majesty,” he said. “No member of my Eschaton has done what you accuse.”
“He lies!” Hayden cried.
“Enough!” the queen shouted. “I want all involved in halting Bernard’s execution arrested. I will speak with them myself. As for you,” she said, bidding Bernard to rise. The priest did as he was told, offering a slight bow with his head.
“Yes, your majesty?” he asked.
“If you are guilty of these crimes, I pardon you of them. If you are innocent of them, then I ask for your understanding and forgiveness. Your priests have little to do with the chaos flooding my city, and I will not shed your blood in a pointless display.”
“I am humbled by your grace,” Bernard said, bowing again, this time much lower. Meanwhile Hayden seemed ready to explode in anger and frustration. He moved to speak but a single glare silenced him. The queen appeared to be in no mood. Without a word, he stormed off. The queen whispered an order to her guard, and as one they returned to the castle. Most of the lingering soldiers joined them, while a few others left for their homes and families. When they were alone, Harruq smacked Tarlak in the shoulder.
“No member, huh?” he asked.
Tarlak laughed. “I told you he wasn’t one any longer. We’ll reinstate him once this has blown over. Told you, I wouldn’t lie.”
“Such deception is close to a lie,” Aurelia said.
“Yeah, well, may Ashhur forgive me,” Tarlak said with a wink. “Now let’s get our friendly priest here back to somewhere warm and safe.”
They returned to their camps, and at their arrival many of the other priests of Ashhur, haggard and exhausted, lit up with new life at sight of their teacher. They cheered and sang songs of joy and triumph. Harruq, however, had little heart for it. He and Aurelia sneaked out from the tents, and with a little magic from Aurelia, passed through the two walls and out to the surrounding fields. With a few blankets for warmth, they huddled together and stared at the stars amid the quiet.
“I was wondering,” Harruq said as she nestled her head against his chest. “What would you have done if they decided to execute you?”
Aurelia shifted a little. “Knocked a few guards around, teleported out of the city, and then waited for you and Tar to find me.”
Harruq chuckled. “Good to know. Of course, I would have gone barging into the prison where you were held, smashed a few skulls, and ended up trapped there while you escaped all easy and magically.”
“And then Tarlak would have saved your butt and together you two would have fled, finding me,” the elf said. “See, the plan still works.”
“Excuse me,” said a soft, feminine voice from their side, startling both. They glanced over and saw Mira, her arms tucked behind her as if she were a little girl approaching a stranger. Her deep black eyes kept trying to meet Harruq’s gaze, but every few seconds she flitted them down to stare at her feet.
“I’m sorry to bother both of you,” she said. “I knew you’d be out here, because Aurelia, you’re magical and I… I’m sorry, I’ll go.”
“No,” Aurelia said, standing and offering her hand. “Stay with us. What brings you out here?”
“I won’t stay long,” she said, her whole body tilting forward so her black hair could cover her face. “I have something to say to Harruq. It’s stupid, though. I don’t think it means anything.”
“Just say it, girl,” Harruq said, trying to make his gruff voice sound soft as possible. “I’ve heard stuff from Tarlak far dumber than anything you could say.”
Mira smiled. “My mother said that this world needs a sign of faith,” she said. “I think it’s you.”
Harruq raised an eyebrow. “Um… huh?”
Her smile faded. “I told you it was stupid,” she said, turning to go.
“Wait,” Aurelia said. “Ignore my idiot husband. Is that all you have to say?”
Mira crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.
“No,” she said. “Mother hasn’t given up on us yet. It’s not hopeless. We can survive, we can live.” She suddenly looked up and stared at Harruq with incredible intensity, her eyes wide and her lips quivering as if her entire world depended on the half-orc’s next answer. “Do you believe that?” she asked. “I need you to believe that.”
He might have joked or laughed, but she was too serious, too intense, for him to do so. He felt his chest tighten, and he found himself uncomfortable and nervous.
“Yes,” he said. “I do believe that. I’ll die fighting to prove it.”
Mira smiled. He felt both their tensions ease.
“Good,” she said. “That’s all I needed.”
She turned, lifted her arms above her head, and then vanished in shimmering mist of shadows and smoke. Harruq stared at the grass until Aurelia nudged him with her elbow.
“Hrm?” he asked before realizing she was staring at him. “Oh, heh, that was odd, wasn’t it, Aurry?”
“I’ll say,” Aurelia said, trying to read her husband’s reaction. “Is something wrong, Harruq? You seem… not troubled, but like you’re arguing with yourself, and I would appreciate knowing why.”
“It’s nothing,” Harruq said.
“You’re lying.”
“Fine. It is something. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
Aurelia nudged him again. “Wife, remember?”
Harruq sighed. “Fine. It involves Bernard. He was willing to die for you. I need to talk to him, that’s all. Thank him.”
“You’re still holding back,” Aurelia said as she laid her head against his chest. “But I’ll let you get away with it for now.”
The
y let their conversation slip to lesser things, and from that, fade into nothing, just quiet comfort as together they shared the night.
The next morning Harruq wandered through the camps, but after an hour of nothing, he finally asked one of the other priests.
“I believe he went to where our temple used to be,” the priest said. “I’m not sure the reason.”
Harruq thanked him and headed into the city. The people in the streets parted ways for him, several glaring at the very sight of him. He found this mildly interesting. Was it because he was from Neldar? An Eschaton? A half-orc? Or just armed and dangerous?
A passing child was kind enough to answer for him.
“Orc bastard!” he shouted.
“You’re not even ten,” Harruq said as the kid ran away.
He continued down the main road, feeling a little better. He was used to people hating him for his half-orc blood. Hating him for his nationality, that seemed a little bizarre. A meager comfort, however. His heart kept thumping too loud in his chest, and he had to fight the urge to turn and run every other minute. For whatever reason, he was terrified of talking with Bernard. At last he turned right and headed toward the smoldering pile of rubble and ash that had been the temple of Ashhur.
Bernard walked through the debris, shifting charred pieces of wood this way and that. His robes were smeared black and gray, and even his sweaty face was covered with ash.
“Hard work to do alone,” Harruq said, stepping into the rubble. “What are you looking for?”
“We didn’t have much,” Bernard said, holding his back with his hands as he straightened up, wincing at the popping his spine made. “But we had a few precious writings. I hoped they survived, but, as you can see…”
Harruq nodded. The fire had been intense. Hardly a piece of wood remained more than a blackened husk.
“I came to thank you,” Harruq said. Bernard waved him off.
“It was nothing,” the priest said.
“It was your life,” Harruq argued.
“Again,” Bernard said, chuckling at him. “Nothing.”
“How can you say that?” Harruq asked. “How can you offer your life for someone you don’t even know?”
“Harruq, are you blind?” the priest asked.
“I can see just fine,” the half-orc grumbled, feeling patronized.
“Then look around you. You fought and bled protecting thousands of people on their journey here. You offered your life for theirs, as did soldiers, fathers, mothers… Many died, others lived. How is what I did any different?”
Harruq opened his mouth, then shut it. He realized he had no argument that wouldn’t ring false.
“I’m sorry,” Harruq said. “Guess I might be a little blind.”
“Little?” Bernard asked, laughing. “Look around a second time. Tarlak is a good man, and he has assembled good people. They all would offer their life for yours. I suspect they already have.”
Harruq pursed his lips and nodded. In combat, it seemed so simple, so obvious, that each would risk their life for the other, but when the adrenaline faded, and life was quiet…
“You look like you’re struggling with something,” Bernard said. He rubbed sweat from his brow onto his sleeve, smearing more ash across his forehead. “I’ll aid, if you’ll let me.”
“Is it ever wrong to forgive someone?” Harruq finally asked.
Bernard tilted his head and thought for a moment.
“You’ve been hurt, haven’t you?” he asked. “By someone you love. Have you already forgiven them, or still deciding if you should?”
“Already have,” Harruq said. “And it cost us dearly.”
“Then pay the cost,” Bernard said. “It is better than the alternative.”
“And what would that be?”
The priest put his hands on his hips and looked to the side.
“Think about it,” he finally said. “How many times have you been forgiven? By your wife, by Tarlak, by your friends and family? If you don’t forgive others, then why should they forgive you? All or nothing, that’s what Ashhur wants.”
“The only family I have is my brother,” Harruq said. “And he’s not one to forgive.”
“Then compare your life to his,” Bernard argued. “Is he happier? Kinder? A stronger person for it? Or is he weak and fragile, clinging to old wounds that refuse to halt their bleeding?”
Harruq didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. More and more a thought kept resurfacing, growing stronger with each passing day. He felt embarrassed, but he blurted it out.
“Karak is everything I cannot stand,” he said. “But Ashhur seems… would he accept a half-orc? My cursed blood?”
To this Bernard put a hand on Harruq’s shoulder and smiled.
“No matter your curse, your wretchedness, your anger or cowardice or malice, no matter your flaws and sins, he loves you,” Bernard said. “Give him your faith, and you will be rewarded. Deny him your faith, and he will still love you. There is nothing you can do to change that.”
Harruq nodded, his mind struggling to wrap around the words. Too simple, he thought. Far too simple.
“I need to go,” he said.
“Of course,” Bernard said, turning back to the remnants of his temple. Harruq watched him reach into the ash and scatter it about in search of something valuable. When he found nothing, he moved over a few more steps, bent down, and searched again. At that moment, the half-orc felt like the ash.
13
The ground shook as if giants buried beneath the world were thrashing as they stirred. Above him the sky bled fire, waves of it falling to the horizon. He felt blood on his hands and tasted rot on his tongue. When he looked down and saw the dead child in his arms, chest ripped open by hundreds of squirming black worms, Qurrah allowed the nightmare to wake him.
He sat up and pulled his hood over his head as he looked around. They were surrounded by Thulos’s demons, most sleeping in blankets with their weapons at their sides. A few patrolled the area, giant torches in hand. One passed by, nodding in greeting.
“Why are you awake?” Tessanna asked, startling him. She hadn’t moved, and her eyes were still closed as if she were asleep.
“A dream,” he said. “Where is Velixar?”
Tessanna propped herself up on her elbow, her long hair cascading over her face.
“You know he doesn’t sleep,” she said. “And he certainly doesn’t keep us aware of his doings.”
“Shush then,” Qurrah said, glancing about the camp. “Follow me.”
Together they slipped through the camp, avoiding the patrolling guards and their torchlight. Near their camp stood thousands of undead, all raised from the murdered people of Neldar. They were perfectly still, awaiting Velixar’s orders. Qurrah grabbed Tessanna’s hand and pulled her through the rotting ranks. Several rows in, he stopped and turned to her, feeling safe enough to whisper.
“Mordeina is very close,” Qurrah said. “If Velixar is to regain leadership of Karak’s followers, he needs to do so soon.”
“How do you know it is tonight?” Tessanna asked. “You do this only because of your dream.”
“I don’t care,” the half-orc said. “Preston wants you dead. I feel it time we put his nuisance to an end.”
Tessanna giggled. “We’re going to be naughty tonight, aren’t we?” she asked.
Qurrah smiled at her. “We need to be careful. If things go bad, flee back to Ulamn.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
Qurrah put his hand on her abdomen, where a tight bulge had grown on her slender frame.
“You protect our child’s life then,” he said. “Leave me to die if you must.”
“So romantic,” she said. “Lead on, lover.”
They hurried past the undead, further and further south, to where the rest of the army camped. From behind the rotting body of a gigantic Veldaren soldier, they peered out at the first wave of guards. The tested patrolled the en
tire camp, holding torches in their bone hands. Their tents were placed in an outer ring, protecting the inner camps. Krieger’s paladins slept further inside, and at the very heart of it all were the priests. Qurrah scratched his chin, pondering the best method to enter.
“This won’t be easy,” he said. “Kill as few as possible. We don’t need the survivors rallying behind another in a desperate bid for vengeance against us and Velixar.”
“No fun,” Tessanna muttered, turning back to the few wandering tested. A wave of her hand and they slumped to the ground, fast asleep. “No challenge either,” she added.
“They’re just fodder,” Qurrah said, grabbing her hand. “What did you expect?”
They slipped through the outer ring of the camp, silent as a shadow. Tessanna had to cast her sleep spell only twice, both on tested that neared them during their slow patrol. Together they slipped inside a tent where three more slept. A wave of Qurrah’s hand and shadows crawled over their lips. Another spell and gray mist rose up from the dirt, latching around the three like a spider’s web. This startled them awake, but they could not move and could not make a sound. From inside the tent the two peered out, watching a lone dark paladin walk by.
“You know, Krieger’s always hated us,” Tessanna said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Qurrah said. “No killing them.”
“Fine.”
She yanked a chunk of dirt from the ground, blew across it, and then winked at Qurrah. The dirt shimmered red, and then it flew, propelled by some unseen force. It smacked the dark paladin square in the mouth, hard enough to snap his head back. Tessanna rushed out of the tent, her knife drawn. She jammed it into the neck of the paladin, who was busy struggling to pull the dirt out of his mouth. His body slackened immediately. She licked the blade, her eyes flaring wild at the taste of blood.
Qurrah glared but did not reprimand her. They hurried, knowing it would not be long before someone noticed the dead guard. That hurrying cost them, however, for Qurrah tripped, stumbling and rolling beside the priests’ tents. He froze, waiting for someone to awake, and that was when he realized just how quiet the camp was. No snoring. No stirring in the night. He got to his knees and yanked open the flap of the nearby tent. Empty.
The Half-Orcs: Books 1-5 Page 115
