The Cost of Betrayal

5

B oth were awake before the dawn. They spoke little. Qurrah assumed, correctly, that his brother prepared for practice. Harruq assumed, incorrectly, that his brother did the same. They parted, the warrior circling north around the tower, the necromancer heading southeast.

The center of Veldaren was blessedly empty. Qurrah sat on the edge of the fountain, dabbing a hand in the water. Nervousness gnawed at his heart. She had power, how much he didn’t know, but for her to dive into his mind and twist his own defenses against him showed a mind sharper than the blades his brother carried. Time passed, and the sun crawled its way above the walls of the town.

“Why do you delay?” Qurrah muttered. “Surely by no fear of me.”

More and more people passed by, giving him curious glances as they did. Still no Tessanna.

After an hour, he felt a very familiar thorn enter his mind.

You wait for me, he heard inside his skull, the voice delicate and shy.

I wish to speak with you, he replied silently.

It is more than that. You border on obsession.

His anger flared. Do not say what you know is untrue.

A resolve hard as iron overtook the delicate voice in his head, banishing any trace of weakness.

I have drunk from your mind, Qurrah Tun. I know what you are, but I will come. I, too, am curious.

Tessanna stepped into view, walking slowly up the southern road. She had cut her ragged dress even higher than before, exposing much of her thighs. For the first time, she and Qurrah met face to face, and the chill running up his back gave credence to the words of the baker. Only a shred of white encircled the outer edges of her eyes. The rest was completely black, both her irises and pupils. Her stare was blatant and powerful. She could see through him, and he knew it.

She approached, her dagger in her right hand. Qurrah could not move, could not even speak, as she stopped less than a foot in front of him. He felt like an old, lumbering giant compared to her. Her forehead only came up to his chin.

“Hello. I am Tessanna Delone,” she said, her voice cruel and hard. “You wished to speak with me?”

Qurrah wondered where the soft, giggling girl of the day before had gone.

“My thoughts refuse to waiver,” he said. “I had to see your face, lest I lose my mind forever.”

“You should let it go then,” she said. “I did years ago. The freedom is a thrill.”

She outstretched her left arm over the fountain. The dagger pressed the underside, just above her elbow.

“Why do you bleed yourself?” he asked her. “Why the runes? Why the pain?”

“You ever ask people why they fuck?” she shot back. “Feels good. Feels normal. Anyone ever ask you why the scent of the dead riles your blood?”

Red anger filled his pale face. “How dare you…”

“You want to speak to me? Fine. Let’s see how obsessed you really are.”

The dagger slashed, quick and vicious. This was not like her previous days of carving, instead she cut one long, open wound that poured blood like a crimson rain into the fountain. Tessanna closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She clenched her muscles, and then the flow grew in power. Qurrah stared, his mouth agape. When she reopened her eyes, her entire countenance had changed. She giggled.

“I’m sorry. I’m having too much fun. Here come the guards.”

Several armored men bullied themselves past Qurrah, the necromancer unaware of their approach. They surrounded the girl, their swords drawn.

“Enough’s enough,” the lead guard said. “You won’t make a fuss, right?”

“Of course not,” he heard her say. “But you might have to grab me. I won’t fight too much.” She giggled again. Something carnal underneath the sound made Qurrah tremble. Unlike the cold shiver when he had seen her eyes, this one was one of fire.

The guards, ignoring Qurrah completely, marched Tessanna toward the castle. He watched them depart, slowly realizing what it was the girl had just done.

“I do not take kindly to being tested,” he said. The whip tightened around his arm, sensing bloodshed to come.

I n the northwestern corner of Veldaren, tucked against the giant beauty of the stone castle like a swollen, mutated foot, was the prison. The construction was simple and practical. It looked like a giant box, with barred windows, half below ground, half above. Inside, however, was far more twisted and complicated than any rational mind could devise. Qurrah wasn’t known for his rational mind. He arrived at nightfall.

The moon was a thin sliver of light in the darkness. For this, Qurrah was grateful, for his mixed blood would grant him sight in the darkness. Two bored soldiers guarded the locked iron doors leading into the prison. Another guard looped around the compound, his gait slow and his eyes dull. A single spell put him to the ground. A second put out his torch. Qurrah made no pretense of hiding the body. In a minute or two, the front guards would notice. Still, he did not hurry.

Qurrah felt her presence as a physical pull on his chest, one he could see when he closed his eyes. He approached her window and pressed his face against the cold bars. Tessanna sat on an aged bench, her wrists bound together by rusted metal and chained to shackles around her ankles. A second chain ran up her chest, around her neck, and then attached to a metal plate bolted into the stone.

“Tessanna,” he whispered.

“Why are you here?” she asked. Her voice was devoid of all emotion, the sound of perfect apathy.

“Do you wish to be freed?” he asked, ignoring her question. She never moved her head to look at him.

“No. I am fine. Go your own way.”

The half-orc ignored her again. He shifted next to the window and placed his hands against the wall. His body turned translucent, and like a ghost he slipped through. Grunting in pain, he absorbed the landing on his shoulder. When he stood, he wiped dirt from his robes and glared at her.

“Do not play games with me,” he said. “I should let you rot.”

Tessanna’s eyes remained cast to the floor, her long black hair hiding her face.

“Yes,” she said. “I should rot down here, so leave me be. You don’t know why you came, so why should I feel glad you did?”

In answer, Qurrah slapped her across the face. The sharp sound stirred the lone occupant in an adjacent cell.

“Whatcha doin’ over there girl? Found yourself a buddy?” A tanned man with dirty hair pressed against the bars.

“Hold your tongue, or I will kill you,” Qurrah said. The other man laughed.

“You can’t even touch me. How about you let me free, or I start screaming for guards?”

Qurrah started to cast a spell, but stopped when hands grabbed his robes. He startled when he glanced back at Tessanna. Her face had changed. Life burned in her eyes. Angry life. Before he could respond, she released his robes, pointed her shackled hands at the nuisance, and whispered a word of magic in a dark tongue of old.

“ Relnka, ” Qurrah heard. The prisoner gargled and coughed. Blood spilled out his lips, as well as his nose, his eyes, his ears, and every other orifice. He collapsed. Dark liquid pooled underneath his body as he silently died.

“I should bleed you as well,” she snarled at Qurrah.

“Try and you will die,” he shot back, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded. “I come as your savior. I will leave as your murderer.”

Tessanna held up her constricted hands.

“Release me.”

He touched the metal shackles and pondered. Unsure, he tried the same spell he had used to enter the cell. The metal swarmed with shadow, nearly glowing with its darkness, and then slipped to the ground, the flesh like air to it. When he started to cast the spell on her legs, she waved him off.

“Open,” she commanded, hooking her fingers in strange, fluid formations. The locks around her feet clicked and fell. She stood, tossing her hair off her face.

“How do we get out?” she asked. Not a bit of gratitude revealed its presence in her voice.

“You did not need me to free yourself. Why do you need me now?” Already he felt foolish. He was no savior to this girl. At any time, she could have cast aside the chains that held her.

“I cannot walk through walls,” she replied. “Locks are a different matter. We can leave through the front entrance, but people will die.”

“They will hunt you if we do,” Qurrah said. “Give me your hand.”

“No.”

He took it anyway. She glared at him, her eyes bulging with anger, but the anger melted away. He held her hand so gently. Qurrah closed his eyes to think, and when he opened them again, Tessanna was blushing. He raised an eyebrow.

“Your hand is soft,” she said in a quiet, shy voice. Qurrah pretended not to notice.

“Follow me. My former master taught me this spell, but I have never used it before.”

“You’ll do fine,” she said. “I know it.”

He cast the spell. A black door formed against the wall, constructed of shadows and magic. They stepped inside, the door vanished, and then they were far away.

T he shadow door reopened inside a tiny, decrepit building. The two stepped out, the entrance scattering into nothingness behind them. Tessanna looked around, her arms wrapped across her chest. There was barely room for them to stand side by side.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Still in Veldaren,” Qurrah said. “This is where my brother and I used to live, before we were evicted and forced to travel to Woodhaven. It has long been abandoned.”

She looked away, her arms still wrapped tight about her body. “Why did you come? Good does not come from me, Qurrah Tun. It never has.”

“That does not mean it never will.”

Before going to the prison, he had stashed blankets and a pillow in the corner. He picked them up and offered them to her.

“Thank you,” she said, gripping the cloth as if her life were at stake. “Please, how can I repay you?”

He shook his head. “We are kindred, Tessanna. We both sense it.”

“But I want to thank you,” she said. She put the blankets down and stepped closer. “Don’t you want me to thank you?”

She reached for the sash around his waist. He grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Thanking you,” she said. Her voice was so soft, so child-like, it hurt him. “Please. It’ll be okay.”

Her other hand slid through the tight cloth. She felt his knee, caressed it with the back of her fingers, and then slid her hand higher.

“Enough!” he shouted, shoving her away. She fell, and the look of pain on her face would haunt his dreams for nights to come. Curled up on her knees, she looked at him, tears in her eyes. His breath was heavy, and he did his best to calm as he spoke.

“I desire your company, Tessanna, but not in that way. I do not even know you. Tomorrow morning, I will come with food. Please, sleep well this night.”

She nodded. A hand wiped away her tears. When they were gone, so too was her emotion. The girl of apathy had returned.

“I will await you here,” she said. She took the blankets and spread them out in the corner. Without another word, she nestled in, pressed her head against the pillow, and tried to sleep. Qurrah stared at her, his skin hot and his mind blurred.

“Tessanna,” he said, his voice full of fear.

“Go home,” she interrupted. “My dreams are dark. I do not want you hurt. Go home.”

He did, cursing himself every step of the way.

Q urrah,” Harruq grumbled in a drowsy voice. “That you?”

“I had trouble sleeping,” his brother said, sliding into bed.

“You sure nothing-”

“I am fine,” he said, sharper than he meant. His throat throbbed, his head ached, and his heart thumped as if it were to explode.

“Brother?” Harruq asked, rising from his bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Go to bed, Harruq,” Qurrah said. “I will explain in time.”

The big half-orc shrugged. “If you say so.”

Qurrah put his back to him and stared at the wall. His thoughts never left Tessanna, even when he slipped into the world of dreams.

M y dear Eschaton, we have ourselves a beauty of a task,” Tarlak said to the collected mercenaries of the tower. They grouped together on the first floor, the two females sprawled across the couches, the men sitting unhappily on the floor, except for Haern, who haunted the stairs leading upward.

“How’s the pay?” asked Brug.

“No pay for this one. Charity stuff here.” Tarlak scratched his goatee, his eyes glancing over to Haern. “We do this one for the Watcher.”

“Not to sound dumb, but who is this Watcher?” Aurelia asked. The yellow wizard turned to her and beamed.

“I would gladly tell you, my dear-”

“I am,” Haern whispered, interrupting him. “I keep the thief guilds in line.”

Both half-orcs glanced at him with shocked faces.

“You’re the Watcher?” Harruq said. “Holy orcbutt, no wonder you beat me so bad.”

“Holy orcbutt?” Delysia asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Harruq shrugged.

“Got the point across.”

“So now I know who the Watcher is,” Aurelia said. “But how exactly do you keep the thief guilds in line?”

“Lovely Aurelia, do you have no knowledge of how the guilds operate in Veldaren?” Tarlak asked.

She shook her head.

“Who wants to inform the girl?” Tarlak asked the crowd.

“Twelve years ago,” Haern began, “the noble families in Veldaren declared war on the thief guilds. After five years of mercenaries roaming the streets and nobles bleeding out in the night, they made a truce. The nobles would pay the thief guilds what they were paying the mercenaries. In return, they gained protection, and not just for their homes, but the entire city. Five guilds accepted, and the rest were eradicated. Odd as it sounds, the thief guilds protect their territory, and only the poorest of streets are left to a few vagabond burglars.”

“So you have no crime here?” Aurelia asked. “A miracle.”

“We have crime, my lady elf,” Haern whispered, “just no robbery. Murder and rape are another matter.”

“Many thieves want to return to the days of old,” Tarlak added. “They feel like bodyguards now, bottom rate sentries. The number of members in each guild has doubled and tripled, with each member getting a smaller and smaller cut. Only guildmasters make a luxurious living. This leads me into our wonderful surprise for tonight.”

He cleared his throat and grinned at everyone.

“Guildmaster Thren Felhorn of the Spider Guild is to supposedly be assassinated tonight.”

“Supposedly?” Brug said.

“I say supposedly for I believe it a trap. All of you need to be on your toes. The largest obstacle to returning to the days of old is not the guildmasters. It is our dear friend, Haern. Those who speak out against the current system have a way of not waking up. Isn’t that right, oh wise and all-knowing Watcher?”

“Get on with it,” Haern said.

“Right. My informant claimed that Thren is meeting a higher up of the Shadow Guild, about what is irrelevant, inside an old warehouse owned by the Spider Guild. I want half of you inside that building, the other half out and around. We’ll hide best we can. If it is a trap, leave one or two of them alive. It’s hard to make dead people talk.”

“But not impossible,” Qurrah said. All eyes went to him. He had seemed mentally absent the whole meeting, and had not previously spoken.

“I take it conversing with dead is a hobby of yours?” Tarlak asked.

“I consider it a profession. The dead talk same as the living, and the dead can’t lie.”

Brug made a show of throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes. “Wonderful people you brought into our fold, Tar.”

“Shut up, Brug. I’ll leave it up to you all, then. Kill if you want, but let’s not be sloppy or stupid.” Tarlak started packing his maps. “Meet in this room by nightfall. And come prepared. Tonight, we’re going to have some fun!”

Q urrah spent the day meeting with Tessanna. He brought food wrapped in another small blanket for her to use during the chilly nights. She was sitting outside when he arrived, staring at the sky.

“I almost took a quick trip to the fountain,” she said, her voice distant and emotionless. “But I figured I am too popular with certain men right now.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. He unwrapped the pieces of bread, bacon, and hard cheese. She blinked at it and shook her head.

“I don’t need to eat, at least, not often,” she said. “Bring me something three mornings from now.” She held up her right hand, showing him a simple wooden band around her ring finger. “It looks plain,” she said, her voice almost bored. “My family handed it down for generations. It helped them survive famine. I only have to eat once every six days.”

Qurrah sat down opposite her. He awkwardly fumbled for words, for he had many questions, and he wished to ask them all at once.

“Where is your family?” he finally asked.

Her black eyes grew darker, the white at the edges deepening to gray.

“I have no family,” she said. The apathy slowly faded into anger. An animalistic being controlled the girl’s voice. “My mother died giving birth to me. My father died later, along with my stepmother. I have no family.”

His body shivered at the sound of her voice, but he pressed on. She had pried into his mind. It was his turn to do the same.

“Tell me, Tessanna. What happened to them?”

She brought her gaze down from the sky. “You want to know? Fine. I didn’t kill my stepmother, but he thought so. He drank a lot because of it. I can’t blame him though, considering what he came home to.” As she talked, Qurrah watched as the angry girl seamlessly turned shy and quiet. “We lived in the King’s forest. Daddy owed lots of people money, so we hid out there in our tiny cabin. Daddy gambled. He came back here, though, said he was going to make lots of money. Lots and lots of money!”

“Well,” she continued, clutching her hands together and batting her eyelashes at him. “Daddy didn’t make enough, so bad people took him, made him work real hard. He couldn’t come home and see me and mommy! He needed to, because mommy got sick. I was still young, and she was too sick to leave and buy food for us. So she gave me this ring. She starved to death after a few weeks.”

She giggled.

“I didn’t have to eat often because of the ring, but when I did, I was famished. But we had nothing! So-” another giggle, “-I ate what I had to.”

The vision Tessanna had shown him, of a female arm in his lap, and the taste of blood on his lips, darted across Qurrah’s mind. He shuddered. It seemed he was not the only one who had been forced to eat the scraps of the dead.

“Daddy came home and saw me eating,” she said. “He thought I killed mommy. He was finally free, and he came home wanting mommy, but mommy was gone. He told me there was stuff I could do for him, though, stuff mommy used to do.”

Another image, the rough man tearing at his clothes, sank Qurrah’s stomach. Hatred burned in his heart.

“What happened to him?” he asked.

Tessanna crawled closer and whispered as if telling a great secret.

“He liked humping me. He drank all the time, probably because if he wasn’t drinking he’d realize how bad it was to take your thirteen-year-old daughter to bed. I did it, though. Maybe I liked it. It feels awfully good inside you.” She laughed at Qurrah’s blush. “He never even bothered to tell me he loved me. He hated me. I knew it, so he never lied. I think sometime over those two years he broke my mind.”

Again that insane laugh. Qurrah’s heart tore at the sound. Part of it was adorable. The other part was pure madness, and it frightened him beyond words. She continued, her voice dropping into an even quieter whisper.

“One night I had a plan. I made it seem like I wanted it, even liked it. Aren’t I such a horrible liar? He got really, really drunk that night. When he was done with me, he drank even more, and fell asleep in a chair. I took some rope and I tied his hands and feet. He couldn’t get out. I tied his neck, too. I didn’t want him moving, because that would ruin the fun.”

“Fun?” Qurrah asked. “Torture is what that man deserved.”

“Torture is fun,” she said. She didn’t smile that time. Qurrah considered fleeing then, but he didn’t. He wanted to hear the end of the story.

“I crushed some glass into tiny pieces and shoved them in his mouth. He woke up choking, but I didn’t stop. I sewed his mouth shut. I had practiced, but with flesh you have to be forceful. Once he couldn’t spit out the glass, the real fun started. Lots of fun. Two years worth of fun.”

She looked to the ground, her face suddenly blushing.

“I kissed his neck just before he tried swallowing the glass. I’m not sure why.”

“He died choking on his own blood,” Qurrah said more than asked. The final image took its turn before his eyes, that of the rough man vomiting intestines filled with shards of glass.

“Shhhh,” Tessanna said through clenched teeth. “It’s a secret.” She leaned back, smiling into her hand. “And don’t you tell anybody.”

“I promise I will not,” Qurrah said. He stood and stretched his arms. “I must go. Will you be fine spending a few more days here?”

“Will you come visit me?” she asked. She curled her legs to her chest and peered over her knees. Qurrah would have done anything she asked, she was so beautiful.

“Of course. Every day. I promise.”

She lowered her head, as if in hiding.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Qurrah asked.

“You know what. If you don’t, you’re dumber than I thought.”

The half-orc chuckled, glad to hear the edge of sarcasm. She seemed sanest when she was being sarcastic. He bid her farewell and returned to the tower.