The Death of Promises

7

M ira dreamt of a field of roses, the vibrant red petals swaying in a soft breeze. A small patch of grass in the center was her bed. The sky was clear. Everything was at peace.

It’s waiting for you, she heard a voice say. Everything is well. The mirror must be shattered, Mira.

She saw a dagger appear, floating above her breast in the hands of an unseen assailant. It twirled and then plunged into her heart. She felt no pain. Peace, pure peace, flooded her.

As it must.

A shadow fell across the land. Heavy rain clouds covered the blue sky as the roses wilted and died. She heard their cries, a swan song of crimson petals. A hand shimmered into view, still clutching the dagger. Crawling upward, the shimmer revealed more and more of her attacker. Mira saw a shadow twin of herself holding the dagger. She remembered the mind she had touched, the chaotic being that had heard her psychic pleas.

“Tessanna,” she said, her voice a whisper. Thunder rolled through the clouds.

“Shattered,” said the other girl. With a gruesome cry, she twisted the dagger and tore it through flesh.

T essanna!” she screamed, waking from her nightmare. Lathaar’s arms were around her instantly, his long brown hair falling down about her face. She buried herself in his chest, sobbing.

“It’s all right,” he told her, gently rubbing the back of her neck. “Everything’s all right.”

Mira sobbed, still hearing the shrieking of the flowers. Lathaar continued to stroke her head, but his mind had latched onto her cry of a name she had no business knowing. Troubling as it was, it was a departure from obsessing about Krieger, and his mind needed the distraction.

“I’ve healed you as best I can,” he told her. “Keziel’s abilities make mine look like a child’s. Just a few days ride, and you’ll feel right as rain.”

“Thank you,” she told him as her sobs slowed. “Thank you for coming for me.”

The paladin nodded but kept silent about his own guilt. She had suffered greatly, all as a ploy to bring him to fight. Her mouth and hands were both terrible sights. All across her body he found cuts and bruises. Worst of all, he had let the man responsible escape.

“Mira,” he asked, “how do you know that name?”

“What name?” she asked, wiping tears from her face.

“You screamed it as you awoke,” he insisted. “Do you remember what it was?”

“Tessanna,” the girl said. “I don’t know who, just…I know the name. I think it’s important.”

Lathaar bit his lower lip. Keziel had been right. The two girls were identical.

“You need to come with me to the Sanctuary,” he told her. “Keziel has things you need to hear, to understand. He knows what you are, Mira. Your eyes, your magic… he can explain.”

Mira accepted his hand as she stood.

“I’m afraid to hear it,” she said. “The world beyond my forest is a mystery to me. But I sense in your heart you feel it best, so I will go.”

“Thank you,” Lathaar said, standing. The two embraced. “Let’s go,” he told her when they separated. “I’m sure Jerico will be thrilled to meet you.”

“Who’s Jerico?” she asked, taking his hand.

“Jerico’s a paladin like me,” he said. “He’s a bit older, carries this enormous shield. You know my swords? Well, his shield…”

They walked and talked as Lathaar told her all about the red-haired paladin, who at that moment was receiving a soft, burning kiss from the girl with the blackest eyes.

S everal miles away, as the sun was just beginning its rise above the horizon, Tessanna touched Seletha’s mane and whispered for her to stop. She readily obeyed. Qurrah leapt off the horse, ignoring the sharp pain in his back. Daylight was finally upon them, enough so he could read the words of the tome he clutched to his chest.

“Will it be dangerous?” Tessanna asked as she levitated to the ground. “Reading it, I mean.”

“Stories tell of many who went mad looking upon its pages,” Qurrah said as he stroked the cover with his fingers. “If this is true, my will is more than sufficient to overcome it.”

“Be careful,” the girl said, crossing her arms and twisting her body side to side. “I don’t want to see you hurt. It’d make me sad, and I don’t want to be sad.”

“If I appear to be in pain or suffering, do not disrupt me,” he told her. “If my concentration is broken, I might be lost to madness.”

“At least you’ll be with me amid it,” Tessanna said. Qurrah was unsure if she was joking or not, so he let the comment pass. He put his back to the mountains and faced the rising sun. He undid the straps around the book, tossed them aside, and opened it. His entire body tensed, and he sucked in a single breath. Tessanna watched, her black eyes timid and curious. For a few moments he remained quiet and still, his eyes flicking over the page.

“Qurrah?” she dared ask.

“Lies,” he said, exhaling. “But this doesn’t appear to be spells, this is…”

He turned a page and read, his eyes darting over the words. Tessanna watched, curious but not wishing to intervene. He flipped another page, then another. His jaw dropped as he read, and his face locked in a stunned expression.

“This isn’t a spellbook, not in the standard sense,” he said. “No magical enchantments protect it, and it contains no inherent power.” He looked up at his lover. “It has spells, many in fact, but all the stories, all the legends, were wrong.”

“What is it, if not a spellbook?” Tessanna asked.

“There is only one person who could have written these words,” Qurrah said, holding the book before his face as if it were made of gold. “This is Velixar’s private journal, telling of the very creation of man.”

S teady, Demonwail,” Krieger told his horse as they neared the stone structure. Seven obelisks formed a circle around a faded carving of a roaring lion. Before the lion was a giant pit filled with ash. The statue seemed almost alive in the dim light of dusk, ready to devour those who came before it without proper sacrifice. Kneeling before it was a man clothed and hooded in black robes. The dark paladin dismounted, wincing in pain from his wound. He had not stopped to bandage them like he knew he should have.

Krieger limped to the altar, his hands on his sword hilts.

“Priests of Karak used to meet here at every full moon,” the man at the altar said, not moving from his knees and his head still bowed. “They would cast a thief or murderer upon the flame, burning the chaos from his flesh. When did they stop coming? When did the rituals of old lose their power?”

“The world is losing faith in rituals and gods,” Krieger said. “Even those who follow our ways are losing perspective. It’s been so long since Karak and Ashhur walked this world that doubt has grown like a plague.”

The bowing man nodded in agreement.

“I do not blame the commoner,” he said. “We are responsible for shaping their minds. They will believe what we tell them, if our faith is strong. Truth comes from faith.”

“I seek aid,” Krieger told him.

“For your wounds?”

“I am no weakling needing aid of a healer,” the dark paladin said, harsher than he meant.

“Neither am I,” the other man said. He stood, kissed his fingers, and then pressed it against the nose of the lion. “Watch your anger. It gives you strength in battle, but you do not war against me.”

“Forgive me, I would never insult the hand of Karak,” Krieger said.

“That is a name I have not known in many years,” the man said, turning to face the dark paladin. His eyes glowed a fierce red, and his face continually shifted its features so that every time Krieger blinked he would be unsure of what had changed and what had remained. Everything but the eyes. They never changed.

“You are the hilt,” Krieger said. “The hand of Karak and his eternal prophet. What name do you prefer?”

“Velixar,” the man with the ever-changing face said. “Velixar will suffice.”

“Forgive me then, Velixar, but I do not need healing. I will bear the scars of my failure willingly.”

“You’ve faced Lathaar many times. I expected him dead by now.”

“The girl interfered,” Krieger said. “That is why I come.”

Velixar pulled his hood tighter about his face as the sun continued its rise.

“The daughters of the whore are well known to me. If you are asking me to kill her, then I must decline.”

“She aids Ashhur,” the dark paladin insisted. “The balance is tilting to our favor, and she has already stopped it once by slaying Darakken.”

“Darakken was a reckless whelp,” Velixar said, his deep voice rumbling in anger. “He deserved his fate. And you did not listen carefully to me, Krieger.”

“You said the daughters were…daughters? There’s more than Mira?”

The man in black laughed, a wicked gleam in his burning eyes.

“There is another by the name of Tessanna. That is why we let them be. The balance is not just threatened, my dear friend, it is spiraling out of control. The two still have their parts to play. Mira and Tessanna have intertwining destinies, and I will not act until I know how they will end.”

Krieger kneeled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Very well. What would you ask of me?”

“Stay at my side. There are two I wish for you to meet.”

“Who are they,” Krieger asked, standing out of his kneel.

“The other daughter,” Velixar said. “And my apprentice. He is the one, Krieger. With his aid, we can open the portal and free Karak from his prison.”

“I would be honored,” the dark paladin said. The man in black laughed, his deep voice an ugly contrast to the beauty of the morning. Amid the stones and the pile of ash he seemed as if he had always belonged.

Q urrah had slept little since obtaining the journal. Tessanna remained quiet, trusting her lover to inform her of what she needed to know. She wondered absently if he would still possess the ability to heal her mind. Perhaps he would, perhaps he wouldn’t. It didn’t bother her much, but she knew it would upset him, and she preferred him happy.

They prepared a fire, not at all worried that Jerico or the priests might be giving chase. Other than Tessanna’s wound, which had healed into a faded scar, they had thoroughly dominated the followers of Ashhur. Besides, Qurrah’s desire to read overwhelmed caution and stealth.

“Unbelievable,” Qurrah said at last. He placed the journal upon his lap. “Just…unbelievable.”

“Is it what you wanted,” Tessanna dared ask him. He nodded, not understanding her question.

“Velixar lied to me. He claimed that Karak and Ashhur came here to make a better world than their own. He never mentioned they were fleeing like cowards.”

Tessanna snuggled against his side, locking her arms around his side and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Tell me,” she said.

“There were more brothers,” Qurrah said, staring at the cover as he tried to process all that he had learned from Velixar’s own quill. “Karak was the god of Order, Ashhur of Justice. Then there was Thulos, god of War. They were to keep him from overstepping his bounds. They failed miserably. Thulos slaughtered the other gods and seized control of their world. Karak and Ashhur fled to Dezrel, hoping in its calm they could atone for their failure.”

“Instead they warred against each other,” Tessanna said, closing her eyes and sighing as she cuddled her lover. “It seems a bit of their brother’s blood got into theirs.”

“Evidently Thulos’s war demons began going to other worlds, conquering all who would oppose. Even now they conquer, but Velixar seemed sure they could not make it here.”

“Why not?” the girl asked.

“Something Celestia did after the other two gods arrived. I still have much to read, but he refers to it as the great secret. ‘Only in absolute emptiness is there order’ is the mantra he recites, but that is what he calls the truth. The great secret is the quest. I don’t know what it is, for Velixar does not say. He claims Karak learned of it a few years after his imprisonment by Celestia.”

“Karak’s desire has always been to be freed,” Tessanna said. “You know that as well as I do.”

“But why keep the secret hidden?” Qurrah asked. The girl shrugged.

“Perhaps he’s found a way, one he doesn’t want put at risk?”

The half-orc scratched his chin.

“It would make sense,” he said. “I’ve recently found where Velixar talks about his apprentices. They aid him in the quest, though he does not say how, only that Celestia must be weakened. His apprentices needed to possess enormous power to succeed.”

“You were one of them,” Tessanna told him. “One of his apprentices. Shame he is dead now. He could explain what it was he wished you to do.”

“Yes,” Qurrah said, feeling a darkening in his heart. He glanced at his lover. “Tessanna,” he said. “I’m not so sure he remains dead.”

She kissed his lips. “He’s lived a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he still does. You’ll introduce me to him, won’t you?”

Qurrah laughed. “If we do somehow meet him, yes, I would introduce you as my lover and as my wife. Will that suffice?”

The girl batted her eyes and shied away from him.

“I’ve always wanted to meet him,” she said. “He always sounded like someone I would like.”

“If he hadn’t died, I never would have met you,” Qurrah said.

“Then he died at the perfect time. Maybe he’ll live again at the same perfect moment.”

The idea seemed so simple it horrified him. Tessanna saw this and only laughed and crawled into a ball beside the fire to sleep. The half-orc watched her, realizing just how tired he was. The secrets of the journal could wait, he decided. He lay in the grass beside her, his arms curled about her waist. Together they slept as the sun rose higher into the sky.

Q urrah recognized the feeling, a cold sensation of being seen and judged. His dreams crumbled and broke. He startled awake, his heart beating at a furious pace. Tessanna sat beside him, tracing images in the grass by charring it with her fingers, which sparkled crimson with magic. The sun was high in the sky. He shook his head, clearing the sleep from his mind while his lover began to talk.

“He’s almost here,” she said, her eyes not leaving her carving. “It can’t be anyone else. The man without a face.”

“I will not cower before him,” Qurrah said, clutching the journal to his chest.

Tessanna glanced up at him, her face calm. “I know. Prove how strong you are.”

The half-orc shifted the journal to one arm and prepared his whip in the other. As he stood there, staring about the hills, he felt a chill crawling in the back of his skull. He wore Velixar’s robes. He held Velixar’s private thoughts. He wielded Velixar’s weapon. Everything he was, everything he seemed to be, had been shaped by the man with the ever changing face. And now, with his presence hovering about him, he felt nothing but fear.

“I am strong,” he said, his hissing voice just a whisper. “And he will not show anger at seeing what I have become.”

“There he is,” Tessanna said, pointing. To their south was a twin set of hills, and walking between them appeared Velixar and another man wearing the black armor of a paladin of Karak. They appeared to be talking. If they saw the two lovers, they did not show it. They just marched on, coming ever closer. Tessanna slid over to Qurrah, wrapping her arms about his waist. The half-orc patted her hands, reassured by her presence. If anyone could match Velixar in power, it was her.

At last Velixar looked up and nodded at the two. He waved a hand at the dark paladin, who obediently ceased talking. They crossed the final distance as Qurrah nervously cracked his wrists, waiting to hear what his master would say.

“Qurrah Tun,” Velixar said. The half-orc felt his heart tremble at the sound of his voice. He had forgotten how deep it was, how powerful. “Come to me.”

The half-orc glanced back at Tessanna, who nodded her head and released him from her grasp. He took two steps forward. His heart raged in chaos. He should kneel. He had always kneeled. But his pride had grown with his power, and now he didn’t know if he could. Velixar stared at him, his arms crossed and his red eyes blazing. The half-orc bent one knee and bowed to his master.

Velixar reached down his hand and pulled the half-orc to his feet.

“Stand,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “No longer should you bow to me. In my absence you have grown much stronger than you would have at my side.”

“I was a coward,” Qurrah said. “My weakness caused your death.”

“I did not lie,” the man in black said. “I said I would not die, and I remained true to my word. And you survived, Qurrah, cowardice or not. If you had died, however bravely, then all I have fought for would have been lost.”

The half-orc shrugged his shoulders, not fully believing the logic but accepting the release from guilt nonetheless. He felt so young and foolish then, not sure of what to say or do before the ageless man. Thankfully, Velixar ended his confusion by pointing to Tessanna, who stood quiet with her hands clasped in front of her waist.

“This beautiful girl behind you,” he said. “She is Tessanna, correct?”

“She is,” Qurrah said, “though I ask how you know her name.”

“Even the gods know her name,” Velixar said, stepping past the half-orc to offer his hand to her. Tessanna stayed where she was, seemingly struck paralyzed by her nervousness. Velixar was not offended. He took another step and offered his hand again, as if approaching a shy animal. The girl kept her head low, her hair hiding her face. From that black curtain she peered out, unsure and embarrassed.

“Tessanna,” Velixar said. “Have you taken my pupil to be your lover?”

“I have,” she said, finally reaching out and taking his hand. It was cold and dry, but she was not disturbed. “And I have taken his heart and soul. He’s mine now, all mine. Are you angry at me?”

Velixar laughed. “Do you know who I am?” he asked her.

“You’re the lion’s mouth,” she said. “And Qurrah’s to be your teeth.”

Again he laughed. “Krieger,” he said. “Come introduce yourself.”

The man stepped forward and bowed on one outstretched leg.

“I am Krieger, dark paladin of the Stronghold. I have come to see the daughter of balance and Velixar’s chosen apprentice.”

“And so you have,” Qurrah said. “Are we what you expected?”

“I expected a champion and a goddess. I see an orc in the prophet’s clothing and a skinny woman too shy to say her own name.”

Velixar narrowed his eyes and watched. He had known Krieger since he was a child, heralded as a prodigy within the Stronghold. But Qurrah was his pupil, and his chosen. He would see how he reacted.

Qurrah reached out with his free hand, his face slowly darkening.

“You’ve been wounded,” he said. “And I am no orc.”

Krieger felt the blood on his back growing hot with energy. In one blinding fast motion he drew his sword and placed it an inch from Qurrah’s throat. The black flame blistered his skin, but Qurrah did not falter.

“You are a gray-skinned mongrel,” Krieger said. “Velixar’s pupil or not, you’re still a child compared to me. You have no faith in Karak. Your lacking is a stink I can smell from here.”

“I have faith in nothing,” Qurrah said. He clenched his fist. The blood on Krieger’s back burst outward. He screamed in anger and swung his sword. Tessanna moved between them, her bare hand catching the blade. Her skin was uncut by the edge, her flesh not burned by the fire. The dark paladin stared in wonder as the girl laughed.

“Bad paladin,” she said. “No murder for you today. And you’re on fire.”

She waved her hand. The blood on his back erupted into flames that swirled about his entire body. He fell to the dirt and rolled to extinguish the fire. Another wave of Tessanna’s hand and the fire vanished. The burns were mild on his body, though he coughed and gagged from the smoke and heat that had seared into his lungs. Velixar clapped, his vile laugh booming throughout the countryside.

“I’ve met many like you,” he said to her. “But never one as amusing. Come, both of you have much to hear.” He turned to Krieger and smirked. “I assumed you would react as such. You judge too harshly with your eyes. These two will usher in our greatest victory. Alert the Stronghold and the priests in Veldaren. The great purge will soon be upon us.”

Krieger stood and glared at Qurrah.

“I will tell them,” he said as he touched the jewel on his gauntlet to summon Demonwail. “But I do this out of my faith in you, Velixar. Nothing else.”

“Karak wills it,” Velixar assured him. “Now ride.”

The dark paladin mounted his horse and then rode northwest. Velixar did not watch him go, seemingly fascinated with Tessanna.

“You lied to me,” Qurrah said once Krieger was gone. He pointed to the tome. “Everything you told me about the gods was a lie.”

“I have not lied,” Velixar said, his face turning rigid as stone. “I do many things, Qurrah Tun, but I do not lie. You heard what you needed to hear. You have read much of what I held secret. I believe you ready now. Tell me, though…where is your brother?”

The half-orc sighed and pulled his hood lower about his face.

“That,” he said, “is a long story.”

They walked aimlessly among the hills as Qurrah talked. Velixar listened intently as Qurrah detailed the happenings after the man in black’s ‘death’. He told him of joining the Eschaton and of meeting Tessanna. His story continued on to Harruq’s wedding to Aurelia. He spoke of the gradual change that had overcome his brother, feeling shame in his heart. When he reached Xelrak’s part he glanced at Velixar, his anger rising.

“Karak used him to turn my brother against me,” Qurrah said. “He tore my life asunder to achieve some twisted desire.”

He expected Velixar to be angry at his words. Instead the man looked at him and spoke as calm as ever.

“Karak used him to show you that your brother was already against you,” Velixar said. “The conflict was inevitable; he just drew it to a head before you felt yourself ready. Karak did not make your brother react as he did. It is a shame to lose such strength, but we shall persevere.”

Qurrah chewed on his lower lip as he thought about Velixar’s words. It made sense, in a way. The man in black could see this and decided to further solidify his belief.

“Tell me,” he said. “All that anger you felt, was it truly at Karak, or was it at your brother whom you loved and cared for? Would you rather hate Karak than your brother?”

“Yes,” he said, taking Tessanna’s hand into his own as they walked. “Yes, I would.”

“Then give Karak a chance to prove his loyalty. We must travel to the Vile Wedge. I will explain in time, but that is our destination.”

“But what is the reason?” Qurrah dared ask. “Why the conflict? What is the quest that you hide so tightly?”

Velixar chuckled.

“Come evening I will tell you,” he said. “These are things that the daylight must never hear.”

“Will you tell me something,” Tessanna said, speaking for the first time since they had begun their travel. “Will you tell me what it is I am?”

Velixar thought a moment and then nodded.

“When the night comes, and you know what I desire, then I will reveal what you are. You both deserve to know.”

Qurrah wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the truth about his lover, but he would not deny her that right. They traveled in quiet until the sun dipped below the horizon. Qurrah was not asked to continue his story, and for that he was glad. He did not want to tell of his niece, and how at the whim of Tessanna he had broken her mind so they might obtain Darakken’s spellbook in exchange for a cure.

At Velixar’s command they built a fire and gathered around to hear what the man in black had to say.

“What you have read is true,” Velixar said as the last glimpse of sunlight faded. “Karak and Ashhur did come here fleeing Thulos. The war god is a powerful deity, and he consumed his home planet in a bloody conflict that lasted ages. He now goes from world to world, seeking nothing more than glorious war. He cannot come to Dezrel, though. Celestia has protected it with all her strength. It is why she now sleeps, her power drained in protecting us from those that traverse the realms.”

“You’ve sought to weaken Celestia’s power,” Qurrah said. “You wish to remove that barrier.”

Velixar laughed, and far away, a wolf howled in agony.

“Quite astute,” he said. “That barrier must be shattered.”

“But why,” the half-orc asked. “Is Karak somehow trapped because of it?”

“No,” Velixar said, his voice lowering. “No, that is not it. Karak has learned something during his imprisonment, something that I myself have shown him.”

Tessanna nestled her head against Qurrah’s chest as she spoke.

“What did the dark god learn?” she asked.

“Chaos,” Velixar said. “Before order can be established, there must be chaos and death. Karak has seen his true goal, a world of perfect order. I will grant you an honor I have given no other; I will show you this perfect world.”

He reached across the fire and placed a hand across each of their foreheads. At first they felt icy cold, and then the images came, sharp and unstoppable.

The ground was a barren eternity of blackened rock, burnt by fire long extinguished. Marching in perfect rows were legions of undead. They were men, women, and children of every race, from orc to elf. Overhead the sky was naked, nothing to protect them from the searing sun. Over the land they marched, no apparent goal than to move ever further. Standing amid them was Velixar, red smoke pouring from his eyes as he commanded each and every one of them.

The image faded with the removal of Velixar’s hands. The two lovers stayed silent as the last of the black land faded from their mind.

“That is an ugly world,” Tessanna said, breaking the silence. “Ugly. I want no part of it.”

“You seek the end of all life,” Qurrah said. “Everything burnt or turned to mindless undead.”

“Order will be restored,” Velixar said. “Everything will obey. Do you understand now? Thulos is everything Karak needs. His war demons will kill all life, and then our god will follow in his footsteps, establishing true order from the rubble.”

“You need Thulos to free Karak first,” Qurrah said, suddenly understanding. “You will unite the brothers.”

“With their combined might we can slay Ashhur,” Velixar said, his voice quickening as excitement flooded him. “Celestia will be powerless to stop us. Dezrel will be ravaged and burned, made to the world that you saw. And then they will continue on, bringing world after world to order.” He pointed to the journal Qurrah kept on his lap. “Within there is the spell needed to open the portal. Incredible strength is required to cast the spell, as well as two people. I am strong enough, but for centuries now I have searched for another to aid me.”

“You wish me to destroy everything, all that I know, just to free the dark god?” Qurrah asked.

“Darakken was strong enough, but he turned against me, becoming the demon instead. He buried that tome within his flesh so I could not obtain it. You have it now, Qurrah, just as you were always meant to. Everything is in place to bring Thulos into this world. I have found the final key.”

“And what is that?” Qurrah dared ask.

“Her,” Velixar said, pointing at Tessanna. “She is a daughter of Celestia, granted enormous power by the sleeping goddess. She is destined to keep the balance from tilting too far to Karak or Ashhur. But we can use her power as Celestia never would have imagined. She can aid us in opening the portal! Not even the goddess will be able to stop us!”

The girl shied back into Qurrah’s arms as she heard those words.

“I don’t like your world,” she said. “There’s nothing fun, just the dead and the ash.”

Velixar laughed.

“That is why you do not have to live within it. Once Thulos has arrived, we can create portals to hundreds of other worlds. You may go into any one of them, with my promise that until your deaths the war machine of order will not follow. You can live peacefully until the end of your days.”

Qurrah carefully shifted Tessanna beside him and then stood.

“I need to speak with you in private,” he told him. Velixar waved to the emptiness beyond their campfire.

“After you,” he said. The half-orc kissed Tessanna’s lips and then ventured away from the firelight.

“Her mind is broken,” Qurrah said once he was certain she could not hear. “I promised her I would mend the pieces.”

“You thought Darakken’s spellbook would have it,” Velixar said. “There are many powerful spells within my journal, but not one such as that.”

Qurrah sighed. He glanced back at his lover, a horrid ache in his heart.

“Then my word is broken once more.”

“No,” Velixar said, a glint in his eye. “I do not have the power…but Thulos and Karak are gods, Qurrah. Karak’s power is chained by Celestia, but he and Ashhur created your kind. Healing her mind is well within their power. Aid me in inviting Thulos and I promise she will be healed.”

The half-orc looked up at the stars, hating himself. He remembered the rows of marching dead. His brother would be amongst them, as well as his wife. Did they deserve such a fate?

He glanced back to the fire. Tessanna sat beside it, her dagger drawn as she viciously slashed into her arm. She was more nervous than she let on, he realized. Only the dripping blood revealed her worry. He thought of the scars that lined her arms, and the chaos that swirled behind her eyes. No, he thought, his brother might not deserve to walk among the rows of the dead, but his lover deserved the pieces of her mind to be made whole.

“I will help you,” he said at last. “And Tessanna will as well.”

Velixar clapped him on the shoulder, a smile creasing his face.

“I’ve always been proud of you, Qurrah,” he said. “And you have made me prouder still.”

“What do we do?” the half-orc asked, gesturing with the journal. “Should we begin?”

“Not yet,” Velixar said. “We must cast the spell where Karak and Ashhur first entered this world. That is where the barrier is weakest.”

“And where is that?”

The man in black grinned, a bloodthirsty hunger smoldering in his eyes.

“At the seat of the throne in Veldaren. I have not laid siege to it over the course of the centuries without reason. With its fall, we will be ready. But first we need an army. We go to the Vile Wedge.”

“You made the orcs fight for you before,” Qurrah argued, “but you cannot expect them to trust you now. You let them die upon the cities gates just so you could raise them as the dead.”

“I do not need trust,” Velixar said. “And I do not need obedience. The world is changing, Qurrah, and we are the catalyst. Once they were servants of Karak. It is time to restore the old order of things.”

The man in black offered his hand to Qurrah. The half-orc bowed and clasped it in his own two hands.

“My life for you,” he said. “And for her.”

“Sleep now,” Velixar said. “I will give you privacy. Come the morn, we ride.”

With a fading of black mist he was gone, and Qurrah knelt alone in the darkness. He returned to the fire where Tessanna sat with her dagger in hand. Tears streamed down her face.

“Shatter my mirror,” she said, the voice broken by the lump in her throat. “Not just that. Shatter everything, he says, shatter everything, and still you lie, still you hide, and Aullienna floats above it, floats, floats…”

“Shush,” Qurrah said, wrapping his arms around her. She rejected his comfort, instead shrieking and flailing at him with the dagger. He leapt back, narrowly avoiding the bloodied edge. The girl stared at him, wildness in her eyes.

“When this is over we leave,” she said, her lower lip quivering. “We leave Velixar. We leave your brother. We leave the gods and the goddess. We leave Dezrel, and we live together, just us. No plans. No destiny. No promises. You hear me lover? Will you come with me when all this is death?”

“I will burn this whole world to ash,” Qurrah told her as he gently pushed the tip of her dagger with his finger. “I will keep my promises.”

“How romantic,” Tessanna said, her tears flowing once more. The edge left her voice. “How romantic, and how insane. You’re acting like me, now, just like me. Just like me…”

She collapsed beside the fire. Sparks flickered into the air as the girl sang in a voice distant and lost.

“Run kitty-kitty,” she sang. “Big dog’s coming and he’s coming for you…”

With a vicious kick, Qurrah scattered the fire. He let the darkness consume him, consume them both. As his eyes adjusted he spoke to where Tessanna lay.

“Insane or not, I am damn tired of breaking my promises, Tessanna. So I will see this to the end, whatever that end may be.”

“I know,” Tessanna whispered. “I just fear the end we bring. Shatter my mirror. Shatter it down.”

Qurrah lay beside her and wrapped her in his arms. He placed his head on her neck and let his warm breath comfort her. The night would be cold without the fire, but they had blankets. He could deal with the cold, he just couldn’t stand the light. He didn’t belong in the light, not anymore. The light was for his brother.

“Forgive me, Harruq,” he whispered, not caring that Tessanna heard. “Forgive me for Aullienna, forgive me for your wounds, and now forgive me for this…”

He closed his eyes and dreamt of a dead world where the mindless occupants marched forever.