The Cost of Betrayal

27

W ake the high priest,” Harruq said to the young priest that answered his vicious knockings on the temple doors. The boy paused in indecision. He looked no older than twelve, the lowest of the low in the temple hierarchy. Well, the half-orc had a way with dealing with the lowly.

“I said wake him,” Harruq screamed. “My daughter is dying! And if you keep standing here telling me he can’t be woken, I will rip the door off and beat you on the head with it.”

“I’ll go get him,” the boy said, flinging the temple doors wide. “Please, just…I’ll bring him here. Wait for him, if you please.”

“It would please me fine,” Harruq said, shoving his way in, “if you show me to his room. I don’t have time for this.”

The boy glanced at the two girls, his face brightening as he recognized Delysia.

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.”

“This is important,” the priestess said, doing her best to calm him. “Take us to Calan. I am sure he will understand.”

The boy glanced at the half-orc, paled, and then gestured for them to follow. He led them through the entrance, wincing at the water they dripped across the carpets. They veered away from the main altar room, approaching a large oaken door. The boy politely knocked twice. Harruq followed it up with several booming fists of his own.

“That’s how you knock to wake someone up,” he said. “Now get out of here.”

The young priest glanced to Delysia, who gave him an assuring nod. He fled, hoping he had done the right thing. After no commotion from inside, Harruq smashed his fist against the wood a few more times.

“Give an old man time to rise from his bed,” came the answering call from within. Harruq stepped back, trying to calm himself. His daughter would be fine. Calan was a powerful priest, at least according to Delysia. Such a man could heal his daughter. Any mortal poison should be within the abilities of such a healer.

At least, he hoped.

The door cracked open, and a haggard, wild-haired Calan opened the door.

“Yes, children?” he asked. Harruq grunted and looked down at his daughter.

“She’s been poisoned,” he said. “We need you to cure her, now.”

“Demands are unnecessary,” the man said, brushing his hand across Aullienna’s forehead. The half-orc caught a frown, so quick it was as if Calan tried to hide it. His stomach sank. “Bring her inside,” Calan said. “Place her on my bed so I may take a look.”

He stepped aside so the three could enter. The room was a cramped study filled with tomes, expertly bound and illustrated in archaic lettering. Harruq gently placed his daughter on the bed, his hands lingering on hers. Calan slid between them and knelt. He touched the girl’s forehead, closed his eyes in prayer, and began.

For a long while, the three waited, Harruq and Aurelia seeking comfort in each other’s arms. Delysia stayed out of the way, her arms crossed, her teeth chattering. Finally, the prayers ended, without any action taken on Calan’s part.

“Where’s the spell?” Harruq asked. Aurelia tried to shush him but he pushed away her hand. “Don’t get up, heal her! Where’s the light, the chanting?”

“I can’t,” Calan said. The ache was evident in his voice, but Harruq pressed on.

“Bullshit, you can, now get on your damn knees and heal her!”

“Harruq,” Aurelia shouted.

“She has no poison,” Calan said, overpowering her shout with his simple words. “No poison, no curse, no hex, and no spell.”

“Then what is wrong with her?” Aurelia asked. “She acted terrified to see me, and other times, she cried like a wild animal.”

“I have seen it only once,” the high priest said, his left arm searching behind him for his desk to lean upon. When he found it, he slumped back, his face exhausted. “Only once, but I know it well.”

“What is it,” Harruq asked.

“The girl you brought to me,” Calan said. “Tessanna. Their minds are now similar. And just like I cannot heal her, I cannot heal your daughter.”

The words pierced them worse than any arrow could.

“But Qurrah said there’s a cure,” Harruq whispered. “He said he had a cure.”

“Then he lied to you,” the high priest said. “There is no cure. I do not know how, but her mind has been reshaped. A curse or a hex merely binds and forces a change. A poison is evil in her blood. But this…” He sighed and collapsed into his old rickety chair. “This is beyond me. Beyond anyone.”

“What are we to do,” Aurelia asked. She felt her husband’s arms wrap around her and she clung tightly to him.

“Pray,” he said. “Watch her. Hope that in time, she will gain a semblance of her old self. This might be temporary, but I say this only out of hope, not out of reason or wisdom. She is still your daughter, broken mind or not. There will be times she remembers you, and times she loves you. It is your task to love her even when she does not.”

“I can’t believe this,” Harruq said.

“You will in time, my son,” Calan said. “It is not the end. Your daughter is alive. Hold to hope.”

“Hope,” he said. He scooped his daughter into his arms, smiling down at her sleeping face. He didn’t know what to think, what to do. He could feel others watching him, and he wanted to appear strong, stronger than the nightmare he was trapped in. Instead, he felt tears run down his face as he spoke in honest anguish.

“At least she’s normal when she’s sleeping,” he said.

They returned to the tower.

T hey found everyone gathered in the main floor. Haern was propped on pillows beside the fire. Lying on blankets next to him was Brug. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to slumber, a decided improvement over the comatose stare he had possessed earlier. Tarlak sat next to them, chin on his knuckles and lost in thought. Lathaar did his best to comfort the three, bringing drinks, food, and assuring words. When the others arrived, he didn’t let any rise from their places.

“Moving is a bad idea,” Lathaar warned, crossing his arms. Most of his platemail was gone, but even without it he was an imposing figure. None had the heart to argue with him. Harruq walked through the front door, still carrying Aullienna. He moved like a man drained of life. Aurelia followed, her expression similar. Delysia hurried past, wanting to explain the situation before the two parents had to, but she did not make it in time.

“What happened?” Tarlak asked, sitting up.

“They…” Harruq found a lump in his throat, and no words would come. Aurelia stroked his cheek, looked them in the eye, and said the bare truth.

“Qurrah made her like Tessanna,” she said. “He broke her mind and made it like hers.”

Despite the burns, despite the pain, despite his near delirium, Haern managed to cough and speak.

“I’ll kill him,” he said. “I’ll kill the bloody bastard.”

“Why would he do this?” Tarlak asked, feeling his own hatred growing. “Why would he do such a thing to a beautiful little girl?”

Harruq looked about, wanting a place to put Aullienna down but seeing none. So instead, he placed her in the crack between the blacksmith and the assassin, covering her in both their blankets.

“He wants some spellbook,” he said. “Darken or something.”

“Darakken,” Aurelia said, looking to the paladin. “He said you knew where it was. If we wanted a way to cure Aullienna, you must give it to him.”

All waited for Lathaar to speak. When he did, his voice was calm, firm, and unshakable.

“I would give all to make her well, but I will die before I see such a thing in the hands of your brother. I’m sorry, Harruq. The knowledge in that tome is best forgotten.”

“It’s just a book,” the half-orc said. He pointed to his daughter, pleading. “Just a stupid old book. This is my daughter. My daughter. How can you say such things?”

“That book has the spells of Karak himself,” Tarlak said, holding his head in his hands. “It has incantations that can poison oceans, shake mountains, and summon demons of unimaginable power. With such a book, Qurrah could place Veldaren under siege, assuming he could read it without going mad. Lathaar is right. Qurrah has come close to killing many of us as he is. With the spells of a god at his disposal…”

“I can’t believe this,” Harruq shouted. “I can’t!”

He stormed up the stairs, feeling angry and broken. Aurelia looked around, her beauty marred by her sadness.

“I understand,” she whispered. “I do understand.”

She went to comfort her husband. Silence followed. There were many things to be said, but none important. Not compared to what had just transpired. It was Haern that ended the horrible quiet, even though his lips cracked and bled.

“I still know where he lives,” he whispered.

“Not yet,” Tarlak said, plopping down beside the fire. “Not with so many of us beaten and broken.”

Haern closed his eyes and sighed, knowing the mage was right.

Q urrah tossed and turned, a single sight dominating his dreams. It was of a child laying face down in a pool of his own vomit. Xelrak stood over the child, his hands soaked crimson. He looked like a warrior standing with pride over his victory. When Qurrah awoke, sunlight streaked through the window of the cabin. Tessanna sat next to him, wide-awake.

“You dreamt it too, didn’t you?” she asked. The half-orc nodded.

“For his sins I am blamed,” he said. “For his conniving I am punished. He has ruined my brother against me.”

The half-orc donned his robes and took his whip.

“Don’t go,” she said. It seemed a meager protest, said as if she thought she were supposed to say it.

“I do not like games,” the half-orc said. Then he fell to one side, collapsing against the wall in a sudden spell of weakness. Tessanna rushed to him but he pushed her back.

“Must pay,” he mumbled, banging open the door. He rushed out, having not eaten a thing in two days. The girl stood at the entrance, feeling the crisp cold blowing against her skin as she watched her lover trail off into the forest like a possessed being. She watched until he was gone, and then cut herself to pass the time.

A ntonil arrived the next day, accompanied by a squad of soldiers. He wore his shield awkwardly, presumably to lessen the pain it caused his wounded arm. Tarlak greeted him at the door, looking worlds better than he had the night before.

“Greetings, our highly esteemed and so dangerously intelligent Guard Captain,” the wizard beamed. The dark edges in his eyes added an unintended tinge of sarcasm. “How fares your collarbone?”

“Your sister’s magic borders on miracle work,” Antonil said. He did not smile. “Do you know where Qurrah has gone?”

“No,” Tarlak lied. “I mean, we think we have an idea, but it’s not in Veldaren. Out in the wilderness, where he can’t harm anyone. Why?”

Antonil sighed. He nodded to his guards, who obediently backed out of listening range. When satisfied, he continued.

“Another child was found butchered, the worst yet. It happened sometime this morning. I thought you told me Qurrah was the Reaper?”

“He is,” Tarlak said. His arm shot out, catching the side of the door to steady himself. “I mean, he was…”

Antonil’s mouth tightened. “I trusted you, and I still grant you benefit of the doubt. I lost a hundred good men last night, and we were already stretched thin. Whoever you can muster, I need their help.”

“We didn’t lie to you for the coin,” the wizard insisted. “Harruq said he saw Qurrah standing over the dead child with his own two eyes.”

“But did he see him kill him?”

Tarlak’s silence was answer enough. Antonil gently pressed his good arm against his chest, his way of saluting. “Tell your sister she has my sincerest gratitude.”

Tarlak tipped his hat and closed the door. He slumped against it, cursing under his breath.

“Harruq, you fool,” he said. “You damn fool.”

A t the top of the tower, Harruq knelt on the ground, a sweetroll in hand.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked. Aullienna shook her head, refusing the offered roll. Her entire body quivered in fear. Harruq had seen dogs shake like that, ones that had been beaten, kicked, and abused. No hand had ever struck Aullienna, yet she remained huddled in the corner of the room refusing all attempts to lure her out.

Aurelia took the treat out of her husband’s hand and began nibbling on it.

“At least she appears better,” the elf said. “Perhaps Calan is wrong.”

“Yeah, he seems like he’s wrong a lot,” the half-orc grumbled, walking away from the corner. He could feel his daughter’s eyes lingering on his back. He wondered what she saw. Sure he was big, and he could scare people, but she was his daughter. Not once had he raised his voice in anger to her. Why would she fear him?

In truth, she didn’t. She feared the ten-tongued goblin who gibbered nonsense as he offered her a crust of black bread crawling with worms. When the door opened, she shrieked. The god of the goblin had come, his eyes dim yellow, his tongues trailing to the floor. When he spoke, his voice shook the ground.

“Should I leave?” Tarlak asked as Aullienna sobbed and buried her head.

“No, stay,” Aurelia said. “She gets like that every now and then. What is it you need?”

The wizard walked in, his hands clasped behind his back. He seemed reluctant to speak. Harruq eyed his pacing for as long as he could stand before putting an end to it.

“Out with it, wizard, before you make me get my swords.”

“Another child was killed last night,” Tarlak blurted. The two stopped, trying to swallow the news.

“Like before?” Aurelia asked.

“Just like before.”

Harruq opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He had no idea how to react. The worst news he had ever heard seemed too good to be true.

“Qurrah wouldn’t come back,” he said. “There’s no reason. He would have left town, gone to wherever he goes in the forest.”

“You think someone else killed the children,” Aurelia surmised. She stood, her heart a flutter. “You think we wrongly accused Qurrah.”

“I struck him first,” Harruq said. “Me. All of this was because of me, and it was because I was wrong. You know this now, don’t you Tar?”

The wizard turned away, and then the great yellow wizard hat bobbed up and down.

“Yeah I do,” Tarlak said. “And that puts a whole new color over this crazy painting. My gut wants us to go after them, kill them if we must, but now?” He sighed.

Harruq approached him, his face reddening.

“You caused this,” he said, jamming a finger against the wizard’s back. Tarlak spun around, flabbergasted.

“Me?” Tarlak exclaimed. “How is that?”

“You sent Haern after them,” he said. “What had happened was between me and him. I was wrong. What I did, I struck first, and I was wrong. He has acted on defense every time, against me, against Haern, and it wasn’t Qurrah who attacked us last night, it was Tessanna. I wonder how much control my brother truly has on her.”

“You will not blame this on me,” Tarlak shouted, matching the half-orc in volume but not height. “Self defense or not, he left you a broken mess. Haern would cut a new smile in any person’s throat who did such a thing to a member of my family, regardless who.”

“Boys!” Aurelia shouted, drawing both their attentions. “Shut up, right now, or I will polymorph you both into songbirds so at least I will enjoy your incessant banter.” They quieted, for each could see magic tingling on the edges of her fingers. “Excellent. Whoever’s fault this is doesn’t matter. A murderer is still loose inside Veldaren, and he needs to be caught. More importantly, we must decide how we deal with Qurrah. If this is true, the extent of his crimes number only to what he has done to our daughter.”

“What he has done is unforgivable,” the wizard said.

“I will decide what I can forgive,” she said. “And what if he can find a cure? Shall I kill the one person who can save her?” Aurelia pointedly looked to Aullienna and watched her pick at the grass. “Perhaps we should reconsider his offer,” she whispered.

“What?” both asked at the same time.

“If this is true, then things are different. We don’t know his motivations. We don’t know how he will respond if we explain ourselves, or even apologize. There is so much we don’t know.” She did not say her most nagging thought, the one that had kept her awake all the previous night. She was no fool. She knew why Qurrah wanted the spellbook. He didn’t want to just cure Aullienna. He wanted the cure for himself, for Tessanna.

“It is up to Lathaar,” the wizard said, storming to the door. “Convince him. But I swear, if you give that tome to Qurrah, it is on your head, not mine.”

“I can bear the weight,” Aurelia said, her stance firm, regal. “I do not fear such mantles.”

“Then try a few of mine,” the wizard said. He left in a blur of yellow. Aurelia watched, her anger softening upon his departure. Her true worry showed its face, deep and frightened.

“Do you really think Qurrah might know a way to fix her?” Harruq asked. Aurelia turned to answer him, but it was Aullienna who spoke up, startling them both.

“Uncle lies,” she said, rocking back and forth, her large eyes looking at her parents. “But he’s hoping. Will you help him, mommy? Help the bad man?”

“Where did you hear that?” Aurelia asked, slowly approaching the girl. “Who told you to say that?”

“The voices,” she whispered, giggling. “They whisper, and they’re smart.”

When Aurelia reached out to stroke her face, she growled and snapped her teeth. The elf let her be.

“There’s a lot we don’t understand,” Harruq said. “And I don’t know a single damned thing to do about it.”

“I do,” Aurelia said.

She pulled him close and held him, each seeking comfort in the other’s arms.