The Half-Orcs: Books 1-5

by David Dalglish

  Antonil nodded. He’d said not a word since joining them. Tarlak wondered if he missed Bram’s presence. The two had become inseparable as of late. With Mordeina only a day away, his nerves had moved beyond eating him up inside. They seemed ready to devour him whole.

  “Last, but not least,” Tarlak said, gesturing to his left. “Thank you for coming, your wingedness.”

  “I’ve come as you requested,” Ahaesarus said, but he saluted nonetheless.

  Tarlak smoothed his robes and shifted his hat. His grin slipped, just a little.

  “As you all know, well, this is it. This is the end. Tomorrow we reach Mordeina’s walls, and this time we’re not going to enter as Annabelle’s guests. Archers will line their tops, and arrows will be our greeting. But far be it from me to make things sound easy. We need a strategy. This is no normal military siege. We have enemy walls before us and an enemy giving chase behind. There is no retreat, no bargaining, and nowhere else to go.”

  “We will make no assault unimpeded,” said Aurelia. “Thulos and his demons have rushed like mad to catch us. They will attack while we are in the midst of our own.”

  “Have you seen them with your magic?” Antonil asked.

  Aurelia rolled her eyes. “I can see their fires from here, as can all of you. The south glows from it.”

  “We could turn to face them,” Lathaar offered. “Fight in a place of our choosing, and then if we succeed, we’ll have all the time we need to lay siege to Mordeina.”

  “We cannot stand against them,” Ahaesarus said. “Not with Thulos amid their ranks. That is what I have come to tell you all. There is but one place where we shall have even a shred of hope, and that is within our city of Avlimar. Ashhur’s strength radiates from every hall, and within them, Thulos will feel weakened. Not a lot, but enough so that we might strike him a mortal wound.”

  “But how will you get him up there?” asked Tarlak.

  “We go and wait for him,” said the angel as if it were obvious. “He desires nothing more than combat against worthy opponents, and who is more worthy than Ashhur’s handpicked guardians? We will draw him and his demons into the sky. As for the battle on the ground, we will leave that to you.”

  “I was hoping we could use your help to fly over the walls and break open the doors,” Tarlak said. “But it appears you have made up your mind. So onto my second plan. Keziel, if given time, do you think you could break down the first gate to the city?”

  The priest rubbed his chin as he thought.

  “If we combined our strength? Perhaps. It wouldn’t be a quick process, and we’d be vulnerable.”

  “I’ll be there to help you,” Tarlak said. “I have a few tricks of my own.”

  “If you can break open the gates, we can rush through,” said Antonil. “Can you force a hole straight through the second wall?”

  Tarlak gave him a wink.

  “I remember the defenses. That sharp hook and that narrow gap between the walls would be a horrific killing field. We’ll plow straight into the city, assuming our priest friends can hold up. From there, I say all of Antonil and Bram’s men rush in.”

  “We’ll have our strength divided in two,” said Harruq. “Is this really wise? Why not have the angels fly us all to Avlimar and we make our stand there?”

  Ahaesarus laughed.

  “You are many thousands, and we are but a few. It would take days to bring everyone. If you remain outside the walls, Thulos’s troops will destroy you. Better we attack.”

  “What of his ground forces?” asked Antonil. “He will have more than the demons. Do you really suggest we fight them on two fronts?”

  Tarlak shrugged. “Yes. I’ll be with the paladins in the back, and we’ll have several lines set up to meet them. Ahaesarus will divert the demons and the war god to Avlimar, and the priests will help Antonil punch through the walls and into the city. So I guess you’re wrong, Harruq. We’ll be dividing our strength in three, not two.”

  Harruq rolled his eyes. “I feel so much better. And where will me and Aurry be in all this?”

  “That…I don’t know. You have a preference?”

  “I do,” he said. “Where will Velixar go?”

  “He will be at Thulos’s side,” Keziel said. “Of this, I am sure. I have never met him, but read much. Always he will be with the commanders, keeping his grasp tight on those who rule. Who wields any greater power than Thulos?”

  “Then I’ll wait for him in Avlimar,” Harruq said. “After everything he’s done, it only seems right that I get to be the one to cut off his damned head.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Jerico chuckled.

  “I hope it is.”

  “Does our king approve of this mad plan?” Tarlak asked.

  Antonil nodded.

  “Very well then,” Tarlak said. “We all know our roles. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be long and bloody. We may never see each other again, so just in case, I have one thing I wish to say: Antonil, you’ll be paying me even in Eternity, so don’t think dying gets you out of your considerable debt.”

  Several chuckled, but the humor was forced, and they all knew it. Tarlak looked about the fire, and his heart ached for those who were gone. His sister, who would have sat to his left, always ready to support him if he felt lost. Brug, who should have been guzzling down some ale and telling him how stupid their plan was. Haern, who would have mocked the demons’ blades and smiled underneath his gray hood. Aullienna, who would have bounced on her father’s knee, unaware of the dangers facing them, and the blood they would spill to protect her home. Even Qurrah and Tessanna’s absence was felt, though by the look in Harruq’s eyes, none felt it more keenly than him.

  “Seriously,” he said, suddenly feeling quiet and awkward. “It’s been a pleasure to know all of you. Stand tall now, and may we meet each other once more, be it in this life or the next.”

  “May Ashhur watch over us,” said Keziel.

  “Amen,” said the paladins and the angel.

  “Dismissed,” Tarlak said, waving his hand. “Go drink or talk or make love. We’ve got one last night. Spend it well. Come the dawn, we must forget ourselves, and let killing be all we know.”

  Make love is what Harruq and Aurelia did, once they found a secluded spot far enough away. He kept his movements slow, and his touch tender. Afterward he lay beside her, her arms atop his chest and her face nuzzled into his neck. He felt her tears against his skin, and he shifted so he might hold her tighter.

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We’ve faced worse before and came out all right.”

  “That’s not it,” she whispered back. “I’ve something to tell you, but I’m scared to say it. It might just be a cruel joke, or an unfulfilled promise stolen away from us by such a pitiless world.”

  Harruq stared at her, and he felt the gears in his head slowly turning.

  “You’re not,” he said.

  She nodded, then broke into nervous laughter.

  “For about two months now,” she said. “We’ll have another child, should we endure. You’ll be a father, and I a mother.”

  He kissed her again and again, then pressed his forehead against hers as he felt his own tears building.

  “We’ll endure,” he said. “And you should have told me sooner.”

  “I know. I love you, Harruq.”

  “I love you too, Aurry.”

  “There are just so many,” Lathaar said as Jerico sat beside him.

  “Let them learn to pray for themselves this night,” Jerico said in return. “You have your own prayers to make.”

  He chuckled as Lathaar nodded, as if reluctantly accepting the wisdom.

  “How many of them die tomorrow?” Lathaar asked, gesturing to Antonil’s army around them.

  “All,” he said. “None. Some may die tomorrow. Some the week after. Given enough time, all will die. At least they’ll die fighting for something greater than themselves.”

  “Cold comfort to those they love.”<
br />
  “It is for those they love that they fight.”

  Lathaar threw up his hands in surrender. Jerico chuckled again, feeling like he dealt with a stubborn student.

  “Will you be ready for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I’d prefer an honest answer, not the expected one.”

  Lathaar pressed his face into his palms and rubbed. He looked so exhausted…

  “Ever since Mira died, I’ve found myself doubting. Where is Ashhur’s strength? Where is the god I have put so much faith in? Our order is destroyed, with only you and me remaining. Everywhere his priests have been butchered. Hundreds of thousands have died in the past few years alone. So much death. So much loss. How do I trust Ashhur to protect me in the face of such tragedy?”

  He fell silent and waited for his answer.

  “I don’t know,” Jerico said at last. “Do we judge him by this world’s failings? Is Ashhur wrong to ask us to forgive? Is he wrong when he asks us to help others? I know he’s not, for a world where kindness and mercy are seen as weakness and folly…that is a world I don’t want to live in. So I fight for the one I know. I fight for the one I love. We know little of the past and nothing of the future. In this bleak darkness, we must be a light even when others would fade. Don’t blame yourself for doubting, Lathaar. Your question is honest, intelligent, and true. I wish I could give you a better answer.”

  Lathaar leaned closer toward the fire and stared at the burning embers.

  “Yours will do for now,” he said.

  Tarlak scanned the distant walls of Mordeina with eyes magically enhanced by a spell. When Ahaesarus spoke beside him, the disorientation made him stumble, and with a quick jerk of his hand, he ended the spell.

  “You will see nothing on the walls to prove your plan brilliant or folly,” the angel said, offering the wizard a piece of bread. “But I think a warm bit of food will do you wonders.”

  Tarlak accepted it with a smile.

  “Thousands of men about the camp, yet you come to me. Should I be flattered?”

  “If it would make you feel better, then yes.”

  Both laughed.

  “You seem remarkably human, once you get used to the wings and the fact that your arms are as big as tree trunks.”

  Ahaesarus smiled. “We were men, Tarlak. Being here on Dezrel…it brings back many memories, not all of them good, but most. I’m reminded of my sins as much as my triumphs. Truth be told, I miss the Golden Eternity. This world is cold and painful.”

  “I can imagine.” Tarlak took a bite. “I bet the food is worse down here, too.”

  The angel tilted his head a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. It is. Perhaps I think too much, and merely miss eating well.”

  Tarlak chuckled. “Good to know I’ll still get to eat after I fall off this mortal coil. Wine, too? I mean, what’s the point of eternity if I can’t get tipsy every now and then?”

  “Is this the closest you come to discussing theology, Tarlak?” the angel asked.

  “Probably.”

  He broke the bread in half and shared it with Ahaesarus. As they ate, Tarlak stared once more to the north, remembering the walls he’d seen, the many torches and guards.

  “It doesn’t look good,” he said. “Starting to think I’ll be seeing my sister by tomorrow’s end.”

  Ahaesarus put a hand on Tarlak’s shoulder.

  “I hope you do not mourn for her still. She is much beloved, and many she touched were there to greet her upon her arrival.”

  Tarlak’s cheek quivered, and he no longer brought the bread to his lips, his appetite gone.

  “You met her?” he asked.

  “I did. She’s beautiful, Tarlak, the kindness within her shining bright in a way your earthen eyes cannot see, nor understand until you’ve been there.”

  “If you die before me, I want you to tell her something. You owe me that. I want you to tell her how much I miss her, and that I can’t wait to see her. And I want a hug when I get there, damn it, and I…”

  “Enough,” Ahaesarus said, gently shaking him. “You’ll tell her yourself, dear friend. A day from now, a year, or twenty, it matters not. You’ll tell her.”

  Tarlak forced himself to smile.

  “It might not matter, but between you and me, I’d still prefer it to be twenty years from now rather than a day.”

  “Given how many of my own men are risking their lives, it seems inappropriate I be left out of your planning,” Bram said to Antonil as they marched through their ranks. They offered shallow compliments as they passed, hoping to use their presence to keep morale high before the coming battle.

  “I gathered with my friends, nothing more,” said Antonil. “Our plans on the ground have not changed.”

  “Then you let your friends rule through you, instead of you ruling them.”

  They complimented several men still sparring despite the darkness, then continued on.

  “I would be a fool to not heed their advice,” Antonil said. “And though I command the men, the angels are no subjects of mine.”

  “Then whose are they? What lord do they swear to?”

  “Ashhur, I guess.”

  Bram saluted a few times, then lowered his voice as he spoke.

  “So in service to Ashhur, they are in service to no one but themselves. What if my soldiers decide that is the lord they would prefer? The priests already wield great influence. Karak’s paladins held sway over our kings for over a century. My father was the first to defy them, and it nearly cost him his life.”

  “What are you saying, Bram?”

  Bram remained silent for a moment, realizing he was letting his emotions get the best of him. He smiled and chatted with a random soldier, then continued.

  “You’ve promised my nation independence, and I trust you to keep it. But what of your son, or your son’s sons? With angels in the sky and priests guiding your decisions, how long until it is Ashhur who rules the land, not a king? Those who claim to speak for him will become rulers in all but name.”

  “Ahaesarus has no desire to rule, nor the priests.”

  “How do you know?” asked Bram. “The angels have been here but a short time. How many texts of Ashhur talk of a new kingdom created on the land of Dezrel? I will not have my home conquered in a holy war.”

  “That won’t happen!”

  “Then swear to me,” said Bram. “Swear that for a hundred years, no angel enters my land. Give me your word now, and should we both survive the morrow, let it be entered into writing and declared to an entire court of witnesses.”

  “How can I swear for angels that I do not rule?”

  “Then swear I may defend myself, and you will recognize my right to rule. I will not become a pawn of a theocracy.”

  They reached the edge of the camp, and Antonil kept his back to his soldiers as he frowned.

  “You bring a foul temperament to what should have been a peaceful night,” he said.

  Bram grabbed his arm and forced him to turn and face him.

  “I do what I must for my kingdom,” he said. “What if I die, but you survive? I must hope your honor is great enough to carry through your promise and protect my wife. And what if you die? You have no heir, and the one chosen will most likely bear white wings. Must I beg to them in hopes they honor your promise made to me? No chances. No risks. I do this for my home, my family, my soldiers, my nation. That is the role of a king, Antonil. You are too trusting to put your back to your friends and your life in their hands. You will find a knife there one day, carved with jewels and bearing the symbol of the mountain.”

  “Enough!” Antonil said. “You have my word, still as true as when I first gave it to you. Now leave me be. I’ve heard enough insults to my name this night. Do you think I am a fool? Do you think I don’t understand the great dangers to everything I hold dear? I will die a glorious king, or as the greatest failure to rule in the history of our nations. Now either unhand my shoulder or draw y
our sword.”

  They exchanged cold stares, neither moving, neither blinking.

  “I’d always thought we could be close allies,” Bram said as he pulled back his hand.

  “We still could be.”

  Bram shook his head.

  “Long as you hold council with paladins and angels, you are compromised. Forgive me, Antonil. You have impressed me with your courage, but after tomorrow, we are kings of adjacent nations, and nothing more.”

  For once, Velixar was too busy planning and praying to spend the night tormenting Qurrah, so he and Tess fled to the far reaches of the camp in hope of solitude. Without a fire, they cuddled together. So glad to have him there, she did not mind the chill of his skin.

  “They are not far,” Qurrah said, staring north. In the distance burned the fires of Antonil’s camp, tiny spots glowing among the hills. “I wonder if Harruq is among them. Will I sense his death, if it happens? Or was he among the dead floating in the water when we crossed the Bloodbrick?”

  “Your brother will find a better death than that,” Tessanna said, gently stroking the dried blood on the front of his robe. “Though I fear he finds it tomorrow.”

  They fell silent, but Qurrah could not let the thought hang in the air unspoken.

  “And at my hand,” he whispered.

  Tessanna closed her eyes and tilted her face into the cloth of his robe.

  “We are slaves, you and I,” she said. “What freedom is there for us? Can you fight him? Should he give the order, could you stay your hand?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “Velixar has ruined me. He drove a wedge between us, helped kill Aullienna, and will now complete his work. As long as Harruq lives, he knows I will hold to hope. One by one, the pure moments of my past die. You will be the last, I know it. I know it, and I can do nothing to stop it. This is the Abyss, Tessanna. Swords and fire cannot compare to my torment now. To know and yet be powerless to stop the sins I have been commanded to commit. What will I say when Harruq bleeds before me? What can I hope for other than my own death, and at his hand? A final death…”