The Cost of Betrayal

9

H arruq awoke sprawled on his chest, still dressed. He tossed his blanket aside. Sweat drenched his body. His entire head throbbed, his nose especially. It felt as if someone had rammed a tree branch up one nostril and down the other.

Gradually, the previous night came back to him, and he lurched to his feet. Fighting off an initial wave of nausea, he staggered downstairs, placing both feet firmly on a step before lowering to the next one.

“Morning, sunshine,” greeted Tarlak, who sat at the table on the bottom floor. “Although morning is hardly appropriate, considering I just finished lunch.”

“Slept too long,” Harruq muttered. “Where’s Qurrah?”

“Beats me.” The wizard shrugged. “I could spy on him to find out, but that’s not what I do.”

The half-orc nodded, rubbing his eyes with one hand. The huge fingers paused, though, when he spotted a large sausage link uneaten on Tarlak’s plate.

“Take it,” Tarlak said. “I’m stuffed to the brim.”

Harruq wolfed it down, even though the chewing ignited pain in his nose.

“How’s Aurry?” he asked, suddenly remembering her grievous wound. His heart shuddered at the look Tarlak gave him.

“Follow me, Harruq. I’ll explain on the way.”

The two climbed the stairs to the second floor, Tarlak talking as they walked.

“She’s been unconscious for hours. Her breath and heart are weak. Our hope is that she holds on long enough for Delysia to heal her.”

“Can’t you find another healer?” Harruq asked. The wizard opened the girls’ door, shaking his head as he did.

“That’s another thing we need to discuss. Your little elf has managed to attract some considerable attention.” He did not elaborate, instead beckoning inside. Both Delysia and Aurelia lay in their beds, tucked underneath several blankets. Delysia seemed to be only sleeping. Aurelia, however, appeared much worse. Her skin was pale, and her hair was dull and lifeless. Her breath was slow, the rise and fall of her chest almost invisible.

“Your brother said Delysia should awake in a couple more hours. As for Aurelia, well…”

Tarlak shrugged his shoulders. “Del managed to get a tiny bit of healing magic into her before she collapsed. Perhaps it was enough to combat the poison.”

“Yeah,” Harruq said. His eyes lingered on Aurelia, and in his breast stirred fears he had never felt before. He pondered thoughts of her death, each one tearing his heart to pieces. He walked over, slowly, as if not to wake her, and then knelt beside her bed.

“You wake up soon, alright?” he whispered into her ear. He stroked her hair with one hand, unaware he was doing so. “Don’t do anything dumb like dying on me.” A surge of fear shook his chest, and he wiped away tears, hoping Tarlak did not see. A glance behind revealed him long gone. Harruq smiled. Despite his oddities, the wizard could read people brilliantly.

Harruq turned back to Aurelia and stroked her face. He felt almost criminal. Never before had he touched her, and now, while she lay helpless, he felt the gentle curve of her chin, the gradual slope of her nose, and the soft brush of her eyelashes. Finally, he pulled his hand away, unable to bear the guilt. He pressed his forehead against her arm.

“Not yet,” he said. “I haven’t told you yet. You can’t die without me telling you.” He looked back up, overtaken by the beauty of her face. He leaned forward without thinking and gently kissed her lips. Despite the paleness of her skin, a trickle of warmth remained, and he relished its feel. The half-orc backed away, his throat constricted.

He left without saying another word.

G reetings, Tessanna,” Qurrah said as he climbed into the dilapidated building.

The girl glanced up from her drawing and smiled.

“Hello, Qurrah. Care to play a game?” The half-orc eyed the strange lines and circles she had drawn in the dirt.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Find and Seek. It is a scrying game, that’s all.”

“Another time,” Qurrah said, sitting opposite of her. “I come to ask a question.”

“Sure.” She sent a hand dancing back and forth, ruining the symbols. Qurrah spotted a fresh set of markings on her arm, but said nothing about them.

“Can you heal someone?” Qurrah asked. Tessanna gave him a funny look.

“I kill people, Qurrah, not heal them.”

“But can you?” he asked, more forcefully. “I have learned my spells from my masters, and from my experiments, yet you control power without ever having had a teacher. You are special, and we both know it. Now answer me. Can you heal someone?”

Tessanna crossed her arms and looked away.

“I don’t feel like answering.”

“You will,” Qurrah said. “I have no time for games. A loved one of my brother is dying.”

“Why do I care?”

Qurrah stood, and the whip uncoiled, its tip slapping the ground. Tessanna stared at him, showing no hint of fear.

“He is my brother,” Qurrah said. “If she suffers, then he suffers, and I will do whatever I can to stop it. Now answer me!”

Tessanna stood, anger swirling behind her eyes. She drew closer, ignoring his threatening glare. Her arms lunged out, grabbing each of his wrists. She shoved him against a wall and forced her lips to his. For one agonizing second, they shared the same breath, and all time became a frozen river. Then the thaw as she pulled back her lips and giggled.

“I think I can, Qurrah. Do you want me to? Because I will. I’ll do what you want.”

Qurrah nodded, holding in a gasp for air. His heart thundered in his chest, and he wished it to stop.

“Come with me to the Eschaton tower. Help me, and I might find you a home.”

“I don’t want a home,” she said, letting her hair fall before her eyes as she batted them shyly.

“What is it you want?” he asked.

“You.”

She laughed. Qurrah felt a stirring throughout his body. He did his best to ignore it. He offered his hand, and she accepted it with a smile.

“Follow me,” he said.

Y ou weren’t at practice this morning,” Haern said when he found Harruq hunched over on a couch.

“It’d be dumb of me to practice without a healer ready,” the half-orc countered. “Besides, my nose is already broken. Nothing left for you to do until it gets fixed.”

The assassin took a seat opposite him, handing him a mug of ale.

“There’s plenty more for me to break. I will make up for it tomorrow. Here, this will help with the pain.”

Harruq took a few gulps, set the cup on his lap, and stared into the liquid.

“She’s dying, isn’t she?” he asked. Haern drank from his own cup, thought for a moment, and then nodded.

“Yes. Delysia delayed the poison, but did not cure it. I know much of poisons, and Aurelia seems unable to combat the one destroying her. She will waste away before our eyes.”

Harruq nodded. He took another drink. “I hope you’re wrong, more than I have ever hoped for anything in my life.”

Haern patted the half-orc’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tarlak won’t let her die. We know people who can help her, but someone else has complicated matters.”

The door cracked open, and both glanced to the entrance. Their reactions were of confusion as Qurrah walked in, a young woman at his side. She looked at them with her deep black eyes, the sight of her raising the hairs on their necks.

“We must see Aurelia,” Qurrah said. “Now.”

“Who’s the girl?” Haern asked, rising from the table. “I will let no stranger near Delysia or Aurelia in their states.”

“I’m Tessanna,” she said, her voice so quiet that both struggled to hear. “I want to help.”

Harruq stood, raising an eyebrow. Qurrah nodded back, and his look was all the convincing Harruq needed.

“Let them go. We’ll follow. If she’s dying, we have nothing to lose.”

Haern let his cloaks fall forward, and his hands rest on the hilts of his blades. “Very well. Tessanna, follow me.”

He led them up the stairs and to Aurelia.

T arlak was kneeling by his sister’s bed when they arrived. He glanced up, his face hiding any surprise upon seeing Tessanna.

“A visitor to our tower?” he asked, standing. “I was not informed. I would have swept first.”

“She is here to help,” Qurrah said. He placed his hands on Tessanna’s shoulders and whispered into her ear. She glanced back, her eyes afraid. Qurrah merely nodded and gestured to Aurelia.

“Very well,” she said. She approached the bed, all eyes upon her.

“What is her name?” Tessanna asked.

“Aurelia Thyne,” Haern whispered.

Tessanna nodded. She knelt, curling her slender fingers around Aurelia’s wrist. Her head lowered, and long black hair fell across the bed. Silence filled the room as she meditated there.

“Who is she?” Harruq whispered to his brother.

“No different than us,” Qurrah whispered back. “Her life, her childhood, rivals that of our own. But her power…”

He stopped, for light had begun to fill the dimly lit room. Tessanna’s lips quivered with healing words that felt foreign to her tongue. The flesh of her hands shone white, gradually growing in power. Her hair floated in the air, as if blown by the softest of winds. She arched her head back, her face full of pain. Harruq shot a glance to Qurrah, but his brother’s look ordered him not to move. Haern drew his blades, but a hand from Tarlak kept him still.

A sound like the shattering of a boulder accompanied the great surge of healing magic into Aurelia’s body. The elf’s chest lurched upward as she cried out in pain. Tears flowed down Tessanna’s face, yet still she kept the magic flowing.

“I can’t cure it,” she cried, the light fading from her hands. “I’m not strong enough!”

“You are,” Qurrah said. “You are, now try!”

A brief flash of anger overwhelmed her shy features, then retreated just as quickly.

“Fine,” Tessanna said, her voice dead. “You want her saved. You want her to live. Then she will.”

The white light darkened to gray. Aurelia gasped for air, seeming awake although her eyes remained shut. A new spell spilled from Tessanna’s lips, whose words of power jolted Tarlak with recognition.

“No, don’t!” he shouted. It was too late. The girl arched her entire body away from Aurelia, only her iron grip keeping her from falling. A scream of pain came from those beautiful lips. The paleness of Aurelia’s skin retreated, pulled away like smoke in the wind. The death seeped into Tessanna, filling her veins. At last, the spell complete, she released her grip and collapsed.

“Tessanna!” Qurrah cried, rushing to her side. Harruq was not far behind, taking Aurelia’s hand and feeling the warmth inside.

“She took the poison into herself,” Tarlak said, staring at Tessanna with a look of both admiration and horror. “Harruq, pick her up. We must get her to the priests, immediately.”

“Why can we take her but not Aurry?” the half-orc asked.

“I have my reasons, now do as I say!” Tarlak shouted. No longer was he the kindly wizard. The leader of the Eschaton stood in that room, and he would accept nothing short of perfect obedience. Harruq knelt down and scooped the thin girl into his arms. Tarlak stepped away from the others and opened a portal into the heart of Veldaren. He stepped inside, followed by the two half-orcs and the dying girl.

T hey exited in front of an ancient stone temple, lined with pillars and carved of rare alabaster stone. Tarlak leapt up the steps, and when a young man dressed in robes moved to stop them, the wizard waved his hand, completely paralyzing him.

“Sorry, young priest, I have no time.” He shoved open the doors, the others following in his wake. Inside was grand and open. Huge columns lined the outer walls, and a painted ceiling of magically strengthened glass depicting the seven lessons loomed above them. Several priests milled about, the symbol of the golden mountain across their chests.

“I seek Calan, high priest of Ashhur,” Tarlak shouted. A few priests turned to him, recognized the yellow robes, and rushed off in obedience. The two half-orcs glanced about, the praise to Ashhur echoing from every piece of stone unnerving their souls. They could not have been more uncomfortable if they had been naked.

A door opened, and out stepped an old man dressed in white, a symbol of the golden mountain hanging from a long silver chain around his neck. Not a single sharp edge existed on his entire face. Such a round, gentle look made it so that when he smiled, it was impossible not to warm one’s heart to him.

“Tarlak Eschaton,” the high priest said, his gentle voice disarming. “I trust there is good reason to interrupt my nap with such rude shouting?” His beady green eyes stared at Tarlak, unflinching.

“This girl is dying of poison. I need her healed.”

Calan glanced behind the mage to see Tessanna curled in Harruq’s arms. The high priest nodded. “Place her on the ground, half-elf.”

Harruq glanced at the man, confused and angry.

“Do as he says,” Tarlak ordered.

“Don’t you need a bed, tonics, potions and such?” Harruq asked, gently placing her on the stone.

“The only bed she will need is back at your tower.” Calan knelt down beside Tessanna, examining her with his eyes. “What a poor soul. Such beauty, even in a body so frail.”

He bowed his head and laid his hands across Tessanna’s forehead. He whispered a prayer to Ashhur. Healing light surrounded his own hands, but unlike Tessanna’s, its glow was comforting, uplifting. Its shine was deeper, its light, purer. Gently, it flowed into the young woman, banishing the poison in her blood. Mere seconds later, Calan stood, the magic fading from his hands.

“She will be fine,” Calan said, sighing. “Her wounds are many, and the worst are in her mind. I know this girl, Tarlak. Be careful with her.”

Qurrah knelt beside Tessanna and held her. He stared at the high priest with his steeled gaze.

“How do you know of her?” he asked.

“Several of my priests have died because of her,” Calan explained. “They sought to heal the chaos of her mind. A few thought a demon resided in her. Others, in their pride, felt their power sufficient to put the pieces back together.”

“She killed them?” Tarlak asked.

“The madness they tried to exorcise engulfed them, instead. The pain they caused her, though…” He shook his head. “They thought themselves wise. She was to be proof of their faith. That is why they died.”

“But can you heal her?” Qurrah asked.

Tarlak stood back, eyeing the two. Something odd was going on, but he didn’t know what.

“No, I cannot heal her,” the high priest said.

“Why not?”

“Only Ashhur can heal a mind that tortured and broken,” Calan said, clearly unwilling to be convinced otherwise. The necromancer felt his chest tighten, and knew that the priest analyzed him with his stare.

“What is it you see?” Qurrah asked him.

“Tread carefully,” the priest said, knowing that all stared at he and Qurrah. “The girl binds herself in darkness because she has never seen the light, while you cling to the dark like a babe in fear. You walk a path leading to ruinous things.”

“Do not speak to me of fear,” Qurrah said, his voice seething with anger. He turned to Tarlak. “May we go? This place makes my skin crawl.”

Tarlak’s look churned his stomach.

“Very well, Qurrah Tun. You need not express your gratitude for him saving her life.”

Qurrah glared but said nothing. The wizard bowed to Calan, removing his hat as he did so.

“Many thanks, high priest. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“Hopefully not during my naps,” the priest said, returning the bow. Tarlak opened a portal home and then gestured within. The two half-orcs entered first, Tessanna in Harruq’s arms. Once they were gone, Tarlak turned back to the wise old man.

“What do you think of my new recruits?” he asked. Calan chuckled.

“Careful, young friend. Both their souls are strong. Do not preach. Example is all they will believe.”

“May Ashhur guide your steps,” Tarlak said, bowing one final time.

“Go with his blessing,” Calan said. The wizard reached into his pocket and handed Calan several pieces of silver. Tipping his hat, he entered the portal and vanished.

T hat night, Qurrah hovered over the sleeping body of Tessanna. He watched every breath, yet never gave a single caress of her skin or hair. She slept in Delysia’s bed, who had recovered several hours after their return from the temple. Aurelia remained unconscious, but her skin had regained its color, and her heartbeat was strong and steady.

Harruq entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

“How they doing?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“Both sleep peacefully,” Qurrah said. “Tessanna did not just take the poison. She took the very pain from Aurelia’s body. Her body is weak, though. Too weak.”

“Sounds like a certain half-orc I know,” Harruq chuckled. “And he’s survived through plenty worse than this.”

Harruq stood by Aurelia’s bed and ran a hand across her cheek. “Going to bed,” he said. “I suggest you do the same.”

Qurrah offered no reply. His eyes lingered on Tessanna’s closed eyelids as his brother left. When he spoke, it was to himself as much as it was to her.

“The hardness of your life is over,” he whispered. “You have earned your peace. I will give that to you, Tessanna. I promise.”

He pulled the hood of his robe low over his face and left the tower.

Q urrah wandered Veldaren’s empty streets in a trance. He had been to the temple of Ashhur, but there was no aid for him there. Instead, he searched for another temple hidden among the winding streets, one to a darker god, a hidden god. A simple spell guided his path. He could feel the pull of dark magic, leading him on like a thin thread. The closer he approached the luxurious areas of the city, the more it throbbed in his temples. One house in particular cried out to him in a voice only his mind could hear.

Our faith is stronger. Our way is truer. Our destiny is assured. Order cometh.

He halted at the black iron gates. At first glance, the home seemed perfectly normal. It was not fancy, but well kept. Its walls were painted a soft white and its roof a dull brown. His soul opened, and his eyes saw what normal sight could not. A new building towered before him. Several pillars lined the front, chiseled of dark marble, their sides scrawled with runes that glowed red in the darkness. A giant skull of a lion hung above the door, carved from the finest obsidian, its mouth open and dripping blood.

“Let me pass,” Qurrah whispered to the gate, his fingers wrapping around the cold metal. “I will pass, I will enter, and I will speak with whoever is the strongest.” The gate creaked open, yielding to his touch and his words. He slipped inside, flinching when it slammed shut behind him. In all those years he had grown up in Veldaren, he had never once visited the temple. The doings of the gods meant little to him, but there was something the priests of Karak might know more of than the priests of Ashhur, and that was madness.

He approached the door. Built of the thick strips of oak and bound together with long straps of iron, the monumental portal hummed with magic as his knuckles rapped the smooth front.

“I come seeking knowledge,” Qurrah said to the door. “I bade thee let me enter, for willingly or not, I shall pass through.”

The creaking of metal and groaning of wood broke the silence. The door swung inward, and waiting in greeting was a man dressed in robes a shade lighter than Qurrah’s. A pendant shaped like a lion’s skull hung from his neck. His low hood hid much of his face.

“What knowledge is it you seek,” the man asked. “For many turn away at our truth, or yearn for false answers to the questions they ask.”

“I seek chaos,” Qurrah said. “And I seek a way to end to it.”

The man nodded. “Come. We’ve been waiting for you.”