A Sliver of Redemption

30

S ide by side, Harruq and Aurelia fought and killed. When the demons first landed, they’d retreated inward, into the golden arches and pearl walls. It seemed they attacked from every opening, through windows and enormous doorways. Harruq blocked their way, and Aurelia cast her magic around him. Every time he ducked, a lance of ice would fly over his head. Every time he sidestepped, a shard of rock and fire went screaming by. But there were too many, and the angels with them were few. So further and further in they retreated.

“Where’s the rest of them?” Harruq asked as they rushed through a series of bedrooms. “Would love to have…watch out!”

He shoved Aurelia atop one of the beds. A spear sliced through where she’d been, then embedded into the wall. Two demons crashed through the windows, their wings folded in. One landed on a second bed, the other rolling across the floor between them. Harruq stabbed the one on the ground before he could rise, twisting the blade just before tearing it out his side. Aurelia flung a pillow at the other demon, then ignited it with a word. When the demon tried to fling it aside, it instead exploded, bathing him with fire. As he writhed, Harruq slammed into him, stabbing with his twin blades.

“We need a room without windows,” Harruq said, yanking his swords free.

“Or doors,” she said, sliding off the bed. She brushed her hair away from her face, worry flashing in her eyes. Harruq sheathed one of his swords, squeezed her hand, and then pulled her along.

Outside the bedroom was a slender walkway across beautiful green grass. A series of thin pillars and an arched covering made of golden silk enclosed the walkway. Through the gaps in the pillars they saw a mad chaos of battle, angels and demons swarming across the city, killing one another. At the end of the walkway was a large tower, for what purpose, he didn’t know.

“Run fast,” he said, squeezing her hand again. “And try not to draw any attention.”

She gave him a wink, then sprinted along the pathway, Harruq in fast pursuit. In the open air, they heard death screams, friend and foe alike. Halfway there, Aurelia dived to the ground as a battling pair crashed through a pillar. The demon landed atop, and he stabbed repeatedly with a vicious spike attached to his gauntlet. Before he could notice her there, Aurelia clamored to her feet and slammed a palm against his back. Lightning arced through the demon, and he let out a single cry before dying.

Harruq didn’t slow, instead grabbing her waist and pulling her along. Three more demons crashed through the top, hurling their spears. Two struck the stone wide of the mark, and Aurelia shoved the third off course with a sudden gale.

“Faster,” Harruq said as the demons left the walkway to take flight. He glanced to either side, catching only glimpses of them through the gaps in the pillars. Just before the door to the tower, one tore through the silk and landed, his serrated sword already stained with blood. Another landed behind them, also tearing through the silk. As for the third…

“Take the one at the door,” Harruq whispered. He shoved her forward and spun as the third demon crashed through the pillars, his glaive leading. The half-orc parried it high, then stepped into the demon’s charge. Harruq’s elbow slammed into neck, and he roared when the two continued on, bouncing off into another pillar and to the grass outside. In the mad mess of wings and armor, Harruq twisted and stabbed on pure instinct. He felt warm blood splash across his face. The hairs on his neck stood up, and he twisted free. The other demon’s attack missed, and Harruq gave him no chance to recover. He head-butted him, and when he staggered back, Condemnation sliced through his stomach and spilled his innards.

“Harruq!” Aurelia shouted from the door to the tower, a smoldering corpse slumped against a pillar beside her. He looked back to see a formation of demons diving toward him, and with a curse began sprinting. But they raced to the side, not going for him, but instead Aurelia.

“No!” he screamed, knowing he would never make it in time. Aurelia looked to him, terror marring her beautiful face. And then she slammed shut the door and set it aflame. The demons forced through, four rushing inside, a fifth standing guard, his glaive raised and pointed at the half-orc.

“You can’t stop me,” Harruq said, picking up speed. “Nothing can! Aurelia!”

He saw the doubt creep into the demon’s eyes just before he hit, and that alone told him the exchange was already won. Salvation slapped aside the glaive like it were made of straw. Condemnation tore through the demon’s throat. Harruq’s weight slammed into him, burying the sword further. Snarling, he tore the blade free and kicked the body aside. When he turned to enter the tower, he stopped, for a wall of ice had formed across it, blocking the way.

“I have waited a long time to meet with you again, my dear apprentice,” said a voice from a nightmare, deep and full of promises and lies.

Harruq turned to see Velixar grinning at him, his red eyes glowing with amusement. Beside him stood Tessanna, her head bowed and her eyes downcast. And not far behind them stood…

Stood…

“Qurrah?” he said, his swords going limp in his hand. “Qurrah, what has he done?”

T essanna moved through the battle as if in a dream. All around she heard cries of death, and she knew at one time this would have exhilarated her, but no more. She knew who Velixar hunted for, what he desired. He wanted his victory, his great achievement to be complete. She would be a part of it, but only a small part. She was powerless. Helpless. A prisoner waiting to die at the hand of her lover.

“Can you sense him?” Velixar asked Qurrah after he struck down an angel using a long tendril of bone. For a moment Qurrah did nothing, then nodded. He shook as if he had fought against that nod with every muscle in his body.

“Then lead the way.”

They weaved through the city, staying outside the buildings and remaining near the outer ring, even when the bulk of the combat moved deeper into the city. Only a few angels spotted them, for the demons were swarming, great in number and on the offensive. Those that fled, died. Those that dove to attack, died faster. Each time their bodies collapsed, bleeding from gashes torn in their bodies or gasping for air with crushed lungs, Velixar laughed.

At last they reached a large tower on the northern end of Avlimar. Tessanna felt her heart leap. There he was. Qurrah’s brother.

“No,” she whispered.

Velixar saw him trying to rush inside the tower after Aurelia, so he summoned a wall of ice to block his way. Tessanna clutched her hands behind her back, feeling a lump swell in her throat. This was it. She heard the half-orc cry out Aurelia’s name, then turn to face them. She couldn’t meet his eyes. What would he think of her? Nothing good. Nothing redeemable. She’d helped murder his daughter, then taken his brother away from him. She was the path to Karak, she knew that now. May all three gods damn her, she thought. It was the least she deserved. Velixar mocked him, and her heart flared with anger.

“Qurrah?” she heard Harruq ask. “Qurrah, what has he done?”

The lump grew.

What have I done, you mean. Oh gods, Qurrah, is this how we all end?

“Don’t speak,” Velixar said to her lover. “Don’t answer. You know what you are, and what you must do. Kill him, Qurrah. Break the last chain that holds you to this mortal delusion of morality and sin.”

“Don’t!” Tessanna shouted. She couldn’t control herself. “Don’t do this!”

Velixar struck her, so hard she thought her jaw might be broken. As she crumpled to the ground, she sobbed in helpless fury. Qurrah approached Harruq, and the burning whip uncoiled from about his arm.

“You don’t deserve this,” Harruq said. “Fight him, brother. This isn’t what you are!”

Through her tears, Tessanna watched Qurrah lash out with his whip. Harruq smacked it aside with his swords, and still he did not attack. He pleaded with his brother, and each word was a knife to her heart. Her fault. All her fault.

Please, she prayed to the goddess. Please, this can’t be. Let me stop it. Tell me how to stop it!

Qurrah flung a bolt of shadow, and this time Harruq had no choice. He lunged to the side, pivoted, and then slammed into her lover. Qurrah rolled with the slam, his hands glowing darkness. When he landed on his back, he hurled seven orbs of shadow, each one pulverizing his brother’s flesh. Harruq screamed at the tremendous pain. Silver electricity arced about his body. When he fell to one knee, Qurrah lashed his arms with the whip, burning through his armor and charring flesh.

Please! Goddess…mother…don’t make me watch this. Don’t leave me like this.

Harruq parried the third lash, then hurled himself at Qurrah. They toppled again, and this time he stabbed deep with his ancient blades. She felt a scream building inside her, but Qurrah showed no sign of pain. He dropped the whip and clutched Harruq’s face with both hands. Red mist swirled about the two of them, and then Harruq flew back, his head striking the tower with a sickening crunch. His swords fell limp from his hands, yet still he looked up. Still breathing. Still pleading.

“This can’t be you,” he said, struggling against the spell so he might lift his arms. “That’s not you, Qurrah. That’s not you.”

She felt the goddess’s eyes upon her. She felt her presence beside her. The power taken from her seemed almost in reach, but something was wrong. Still, despite her pleadings, it wasn’t enough.

What do you want from me? she begged. What is it, mother?

“Kill him, Qurrah,” Velixar said as he stood beside his most beloved disciple. “He has turned against us both, and against the god he swore his life to. Such promises are not to be made in vain. Take back his life. Embrace it. Feel the thrill of the kill. There is no right. There is no wrong. There is order, and he is chaos. End it. End him.”

“No,” Tessanna whispered. She felt magic swirling around her, and her anger grew as she raged against the goddess. Her words went unheard by Velixar and her lover, and she wondered if they went unheard by the goddess, too.

“No, you can’t do this. I won’t allow it. I can stop it, mother. I can stop it! I won’t let this happen. Give it to me. Return my strength! I am your daughter…your daughter…and I demand my birthright. Give me my power, mother! Give me my wings! ”

The demand made, the demand answered. She shrieked as the last power of Celestia poured into her mortal vessel. Ethereal wings spread out her back, scattering black feathers. The pain was immense, as if every part of her body were burning away with cleansing fire. Her hands shook. Her hair swirled in a chaotic wind. And at last Velixar turned to face her.

“No,” she said, and it seemed her words shook the very foundations of the city. “He is yours no longer.”

Velixar was a master at controlling death, honed over centuries and given strength by Karak himself. But she could see the great tendril he held over Qurrah, the control, the denying of his will. And she took it back. Qurrah was hers, and she took him.

She gave him only one command.

“Be free,” she said, every bit of her power given to protect Qurrah from Velixar’s furious control.

And to her joy, he turned from his brother and glared at the man in black.

“I won’t,” he said. “I’m not yours anymore.”

He struck the ice with a fist, shattering it. As Velixar shook with rage, Qurrah helped his brother to his feet and dismissed the curse upon him.

“Go to your wife,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Velixar is mine.”

“Good luck,” Harruq said, retrieving his swords. “And thank you.”

He rushed into the tower. Tessanna watched her lover turn toward his former master, and a shiver ran through her at the look he gave.

“You lack faith,” Velixar said. “You are a fool and a failure. You cannot challenge me.”

“Wrong.”

He unleashed a stream of fire from his palms. Velixar brought up a shield, and as the fire spread to either side, he let his power flare. The fire died, and then he tore a chunk of the ground free and hurled it. Qurrah met it with an invisible force that cracked it in two and shoved the chunks to either side of the tower. The air swirled about his feet, tinged red with power. Lightning tore from his hands, arcing through Velixar. Karak’s prophet screamed in pain, then let that pain feed his magic.

“We’ve done this before!” Velixar cried, hurling an orb of darkness that glimmered with stars and planets and many things Tessanna had no names for. Qurrah summoned his shield, and it did not break. Arms crossed, he shoved the orb back. Velixar stepped aside. The orb continued on, its detonation destroying several homes. As the gold and pearl rained down, Qurrah approached his former master. Velixar flung bolts of shadow, but they would not stop him. He flung meteors swirling with ice, but they did not stop him. Qurrah’s eyes shimmered, and then he cast a spell neither Velixar nor Tessanna knew he could cast.

A single shaft of light shone from his hands, its essence clean and pure. When it flashed over Velixar’s skin, he shrieked in pain, his flesh shriveling like cloth within a fire. His ever-changing visage halted, becoming nothing but dead skin clinging to an ancient skull. He lifted his arms to cast a spell, but Qurrah was there, grabbing his wrists. They wrestled, each incredibly strong. Tessanna felt Velixar’s will fighting against her, desperate to give orders to Qurrah and reassert control. She denied him, even as it made her crumple against the ground and weep from the pain.

“Everything you’ve said,” Qurrah said, his eyes shimmering gold. “Everything was a lie.”

He crushed Velixar’s wrists, broke the bone, and tore the hands free. Dropping them, he clutched Velixar’s throat and let loose all his anger, all his frustration, all the despair and betrayal suffered at his hands.

“This is for Aullienna,” he said as flames burst from every inch of Velixar’s skin. “This is for making us your playthings. Go to your beloved Karak, you wretch, and see how free of the fire you’ll truly be.”

Tessanna felt the prophet’s will no longer press against her. He thrashed and howled, but the fire consumed him, consumed his robes, his bones. When only ash remained, she stood, her wings breaking away in a thousand feathers floating on a strong wind. She ran to Qurrah, flung her arms around him, and buried her face in his chest.

“Oh Qurrah,” she cried. “You’re free! You’re free!”

He clutched her tight, and his body quivered.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and even in his dead state she could hear the emotion threatening to overtake him. “Thank you, Tess. Thank you.”

Her tears spilled across the blood on his white robes, but she felt such relief, she could not bear to pull away.

T he first thing Harruq saw within the tower was two dead demons, and his heart was beyond grateful. Still feeling sluggish, he looked about, trying to get his bearings as well as push Qurrah’s struggle out of his mind. There was too much there he didn’t understand. The tower was thin, and it looked like it contained little more than stairs winding upward. He staggered up them, his swords clacking against the walls. When he reached the top, a demon toppled down, smoke pouring from his mouth. He shoved it aside and climbed into a large chamber with windows on all sides. In the center was a bell, and leaning against the bell was Aurelia. Blood dripped down the bronze surface.

“Aurry!” he cried, sheathing his swords and taking her into his arms.

“I’m fine,” she said, gently pushing him away. “Just a cut on the arm. Lucky he had little room to swing.”

Harruq looked out the windows toward the inner parts of the city. The bulk of the demons were flocking toward a single building. It was the angels’ temple, he remembered from his little time spent in Avlimar. It made perfect sense for Ahaesarus to make his last stand there.

“We’ve got to get to the temple,” he said, pointing. “Can you walk?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m cut, not dead. And I can do you one better.”

The elf peered out the window, focusing on the temple. After a moment, she closed her eyes and cast a spell, summoning a swirling blue portal before her.

“Let’s go,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him through.

He felt a rapid moment of vertigo, then took in his new surroundings. They were inside the temple, its vaulted ceiling hundreds of feet above them. The windows were filled with painted glass, many broken and cracked from the fighting. They’d entered beside a wall not far from the doors, where the angels formed ranks to fight off the swarming demons.

“Watch the windows,” he heard Ahaesarus shout, and Harruq glanced back at one behind him depicting a single tree growing alone in a field. A shadow passed over it, and then a war demon came crashing through.

“Down!” Harruq shouted, pulling Aurelia with him. They hit the ground as the demon rolled over them, still struggling to draw his weapon. As his wings unfolded, Harruq leapt atop him, slamming his head with his fists.

“Harruq!” Aurelia shouted, tossing him one of his dropped swords. He snatched it out of the air and thrust it between the wings, the blade scraping against spine. Twisting it free, he glanced back up to view the combat. More demons were crashing through windows, their wings folded against their sides to prevent injury. Ahaesarus’s angels rushed to meet them, while at the far back, Azariah and his angel priests cast waves of blessings, healing wounds and bolstering the morale of the defenders.

“Join them at the back,” Harruq said, grabbing his other sword. “Do what you can to protect them with your spells.”

“And you?” Aurelia asked.

He gestured to the main conflict at the doors.

“Where else?” he asked.

Before he could go she grabbed his armor, pulled him close, and kissed him.

“Don’t die,” she said before hurrying to the angels at the altar, stopping twice to hurl bolts of fire through the windows at attacking demons.

Harruq forced himself to look away to the task at hand. He didn’t know how many were left throughout the city, but less than fifty angels held the temple, with Ahaesarus leading them. Twirling his swords, he barreled through their ranks to the center, joining the leader’s side.

“I’m glad to see you safe,” Ahaesarus said, disemboweling his foe with his enormous sword. “I feared the worst.”

Harruq parried a glaive, stepped forward, and tore out the demon’s throat with Condemnation. When another thrust his sword, Harruq shoved it upward, his blades crossed. With his right weapon he shoved the attack aside, and his left, stabbed. Blood spilled from the demon’s neck as he gasped for air. When he fell back, a third came flying in, hurling a spear. Harruq tensed, realizing he had no time to dodge, but then Judarius was there, slapping the projectile to splinters with his mace.

“On your toes, half-orc,” the angel said, his face wrapped in bandages. “I will not be denied more duels because of your sloppiness.”

Harruq chuckled but held back his retort. The sight outside the temple was too horrific for even him to joke about. War demons by the hundreds were funneling toward them. They came in great waves, putting all of his skill to the test. He slashed and spun, giving every movement over to his deeper instincts, honed to perfection by thousands of hours practicing with Haern. Whenever one scored a cut, he never felt it, though he knew the blood ran freely down his armor. One after another he cut them down, matching even Judarius in kills.

“Fall back!” Ahaesarus cried. “Too many come through the windows!”

Harruq yanked his sword free of a punctured armor piece and stole a glance back. Even with Aurelia’s magic, the few angels could not hold back so many pouring through.

“Go!” he screamed, shoving Judarius back. “I’ll hold the doors!”

Half the angels retreated further into the temple, coming to the aid of their hard-pressed companions. Ahaesarus remained, along with two others. Side by side, they filled the great entryway to the temple.

“You do your mortal brethren proud,” Ahaesarus said in the brief lull as twenty demons circled in the air, preparing for another rush.

“Not done yet,” Harruq said, his chest heaving up and down with each breath. “And don’t think you are, either.”

He heard spells explode behind him, screams of death, and blades tearing flesh. He prayed Aurelia was safe among them, but he couldn’t dare look. Down came the demons, their glaives leading. They had to bank upward just before hitting due to the way the stairs led to the door, and that brief slowdown was enough to keep Harruq and his allies from being slaughtered. They twisted and parried the sharp tips of the glaives, though one of the angels gasped as it pierced through the bone of his left wing, pinning him to the wall.

“Hold on!” Harruq shouted, stabbing a demon through the eye, spinning, and cutting another down in midair. He tried to protect the angel, but his sword swung too late. The angel fell, his throat cut. Though Harruq killed the attacker, he felt no satisfaction, only growing rage. Ahaesarus kept his sword swinging in wide arcs, steady and skillful. The bodies built up before them, and at last the demons pulled back, half of them dead, and several more injured.

The three spaced out to fill the void and waited.

“Harruq,” said Ahaesarus. “He is almost here. I want you to stay back. Thulos is beyond your skill. Only with Ashhur’s blessing do I stand a chance.”

Harruq snorted. “Not leaving. We fight him together.”

An honor guard of thirty flew before them, just outside of reach. They saluted in reverence, then landed. As they spread out, their wings folding in, Thulos stepped forward from their center. His armor shone in the light, his breastplate splattered with blood. He pulled his greatsword from his back and held it aloft with one hand. He smiled at Ahaesarus, as if all were right with the world.

“You may surrender,” Thulos said. “Though I would be saddened. Otherwise, you may die honorably in battle. Choose, warrior of Ashhur.”

Ahaesarus lifted his sword and made a single slashing motion. Thulos’s smile grew.

“Excellent,” he said.

His lunge was faster than Harruq would have thought possible, had he not seen it before in Veldaren. Before it gutted Ahaesarus where he stood, Harruq slammed both his blades in the way, snarling to ignore the pain in his arms.

“No!” he heard the angel scream. Before Harruq could pull his swords back, Thulos’s fist smashed the side of his head, flinging him back. The other side of his face smacked the wall, and stars exploded across his vision. The sound of combat met his ears, steel ringing against steel at a horrific speed. He tried to clear his thoughts, but all he could think of was getting to Aurelia. At first he crawled on his knees, then found the strength to stand. The temple swam about him, and he swore the ground shook unsteady beneath him.

“Harruq,” he heard his wife cry, and he felt such relief as her hands wrapped about him.

“Hold him steady,” said another, a voice he vaguely recognized. One of the angels…

Light shone across him, soothing and pure. His disorientation faded, and he looked up to see Azariah standing over him. He wasn’t looking back, though, instead staring at the door.

“Even here, the war god cannot be stopped,” said the angel.

“No,” Harruq growled. He clutched his swords tight. “How can you say that?”

“Because Ahaesarus cannot stop him,” Azariah said. “And now Judarius joins his side, and still they cannot.”

Harruq watched from his knees as the two angels battled Thulos. Their attacks were perfectly synchronized, the sword and mace striking high and low, protecting one’s retreat or feinting to open up the other’s attack. It didn’t matter. Thulos’s sword was a blur as he parried and blocked, just a deadly blur until it drew blood. Judarius fell back, a wicked gash in his chest. Ahaesarus leapt before him, blocking the killing blow. Their swords connected, and Thulos pressed the attack, challenging the angels’ strength to stand against him.

“No,” Harruq said again, feeling his rage grow. He stood, the rest of the battle fading away until all he saw was the war god. “Give me your blessing, Azariah. I can stop him.”

“Harruq,” Aurelia said, sounding worried. “Your eyes…”

“Azariah!” he cried, ignoring her.

The priest placed his hands on Harruq’s forehead and whispered a single prayer. The half-orc prayed along, for the words came natural, the desire shared.

“Give him your strength.”

As Thulos cut Ahaesarus down, Harruq charged. Salvation and Condemnation crashed in, their blades shining white, yet leaving an afterimage of red with the swing. Thulos blocked, and this time it was his turn to be surprised.

“Who are you?” Thulos asked.

Harruq chuckled.

The war god pulled back and swung, again putting every bit of his strength behind it. Harruq flung his sister swords into position, and again they met. The sound was thunder in the temple, showering sparks. Harruq did not falter. He pressed back, stepped close, and then swung. Thulos twisted to the side, shooting out an elbow. Harruq spun to avoid it, his blades twirling above his head. When he exited the spin he was already set to block the next attack. Instead of being cut in half, he shoved Thulos’s sword aside and retreated a half step to reset his favorite stance Haern had taught him.

“Ashhur is with you,” Thulos said, sounding winded. “At last, my brother dares make his presence known.”

Harruq could also feel the presence, a soothing strength flowing through his limbs. His concentration narrowed, and it seemed all others moved slowly through time, all but Thulos. Their swords clashed, parried, and clashed again. Every counter met with block, every riposte met with a dodge. Harruq felt himself slipping into a dance, Thulos a well-familiar partner. The sparks grew, the swords shook, and the dance grew vicious. The elder magic in his swords held them together against the onslaught, blades forged by Karak, cursed by Celestia, and now made holy by Ashhur.

On went the dance. Harruq lost all sense of fear. Every movement came natural. He blocked an overhead chop, stepped closer, and then slashed with Salvation. Thulos was already twisting, as if he’d known the maneuver before he ever started it. His sword cut air, and then it was his turn to prepare the block. Thulos’s sword feinted, turned, and clashed against his prepared block. They were twins, brothers, mirrors…but Harruq could feel it slipping. Despite everything, he was mere flesh and bone, and he fought a furious god. It was minor now, he knew, as he weaved his swords in a wicked series. He was yet to score a single cut, but his blocks were coming later and later.

He could not win.

Yet he continued, pouring every bit of his strength into each swing. What more could he do? He fell deeper and deeper into the dance, fighting with a skill he’d never before possessed. His swords were a red line racing through the air, the white shimmer flaring with each strike against Thulos’s sword. His muscles were tiring. His mortal body would soon fail. He clutched his swords tighter, swung faster, but it never mattered. Every move was countered, every thought planned against ahead of time. He was dueling a mirror, and trying to out-react his own reflection.

He thought of all his friends who’d die should he fail. He thought of Ahaesarus and Judarius, bleeding out on the floor beside him. He thought of the child in Aurelia’s womb, his child, waiting to be born. It would find no future, not while the war god reigned supreme. He couldn’t fail. He couldn’t! But he couldn’t win, not locked in this dance. Thulos twisted his sword around, then thrust it straight for Harruq’s chest. He felt his arms go to block.

But this time, he ended the dance. Deep in a battle of such skill, Thulos never expected it, never even thought it possible.

Harruq leapt into the stab, let it pierce his armor and deep into his chest. And in that half-second, with his weapon held still, Harruq’s swords blazed with the might of Ashhur and cut off the war god’s head.

“Harruq!” he heard someone shout. His wife, he realized. Blood poured down his chest. He tried to breathe, but his lungs refused to cooperate. He was falling to his knees, and he could not stop. The temple turned to a blur, and those shouting grew distant. He closed his eyes, not wanting to feel the pain anymore. A voice calling his name forced them open. That sound…it was familiar, so familiar.

The land was green, the sky gold. Aullienna was rushing toward him, her hair flowing behind her in long braids.

“Daddy!” she cried, flinging her arms around him. He held her as his tears fell.

“You’re taller,” he whispered, so confused, so happy.

She pulled back and kissed his nose. She looked beautiful, her smile the most precious thing in the world.

“I’ll be waiting,” she said, hugging him once more. The golden light faded. Her arms left him. He felt himself falling again, and as he cried he felt his pain return.

He was on his back. People stood above him.

“A gift,” Azariah said, his glowing hands still pressed against his chest, healing the wound.

“Oh, Harruq!” Aurelia said, kneeling beside him. She looked ready to scold him, then flung herself into his arms. As her tears wet his neck, he clutched her with desperate strength.

“I saw her,” he whispered. “Aurry, I saw her…”

The angels at the doors gave way as Qurrah entered, Tessanna at his side. As two angels helped him stand, Azariah approached the other half-orc, a stern look across his face. The silence was thick in the temple, for the demons had fled with the death of their leader.

“Such a form is a blasphemy,” he said, the words causing Tessanna to clutch his hand tight. “But Ashhur goes now to slumber with Celestia, and I have one last gift for you as well, brother of Harruq Tun.”

Qurrah closed his eyes and bowed, accepting whatever fate he might deserve. Azariah’s hands shone brilliant, and that light passed into Qurrah’s skin. It swarmed over him, peeling away the rot, banishing the death in his flesh. It fell off like scales, revealing healthy, living skin beneath. As the last of the light vanished, Tessanna touched his face with a trembling hand.

“You’re…you’re…you,” she said, then flung her arms around him. Qurrah looked at a loss for words. Taking a careful step, and wincing against the pain, Harruq reached for his brother.

“Do I have you back again?” he asked.

“Apparently, yes,” Qurrah said, accepting his embrace.

“Look,” said Aurelia, gesturing out the door. “Dieredon’s come!”

Elves rode through the city atop winged horses, flitting through the scattered demon army and shooting them down with their bows.

“He’s late,” Harruq said, laughing despite his pain. He hugged his brother once more, holding him as the last of the demons fled Avlimar, their war god defeated, their army broken.