The Death of Promises

3

R iverend was a quaint little town, at least to Tessanna’s standards. It thrived off the crops it harvested from the fertile land that stretched for miles in all directions. But many travelers crossing between the two countries also stopped to rest and purchase supplies, and coin from all nations was welcome. The two passed a couple of stores, vague places that offered a few odds and ends, blankets, and waterskins. Tessanna’s beauty and Qurrah’s robes gained them immediate attention, though no one dared approach. Most just gawked from afar.

“We have a problem,” Qurrah said as they stopped before the town’s sole tavern. It was one floor with a rain-damaged roof and no windows. Beside the door hung a wooden sign with a crudely drawn mug overflowing at the top.

“I have many problems,” Tessanna said, her hands curled around his elbow as she ignored the curious stares. “But what is yours?”

“We have no coin and no items to barter with. We need food, water, and something for your feet. What exactly are we to offer?” Tessanna gave him a dirty smile, and immediately Qurrah’s face flushed. “We are not offering you, no matter how much it would gain us.” He looked back to the tavern. “If we rest for a night, and then take what we want from their stores, none here could stop us.”

“And if they try?” Tessanna asked. Qurrah shrugged, earning himself a glare and a jab from her elbow. “If you won’t let me sleep with some lonely farmer for our supplies, I am most certainly not letting you kill for them.”

“Then what else do we do?”

The girl tugged on his arm.

“For now, we go and get a drink.”

Inside, the dirt floor was tightly packed and trodden upon. Two tables filled the right half of the room, while the left was made of a tiny bar with several carved stools. There was no one inside.

“Evidently drinking is not as popular here as elsewhere,” Qurrah murmured.

“Oh it is,” said a man coming up behind them, wiping his dirt-covered hands on his trousers. He slipped past them and went behind the bar. “It’s just all the drinkers here are also hard workers, and if you haven’t noticed yet, the sun isn’t even halfway through the sky.”

Qurrah smiled at the man and the man smiled back. He was far older than Qurrah and his face was gruff, but he seemed rather amused by his early customers. His hair was tied behind his head in a bushy gray ponytail. When he smiled, it seemed to pull his entire face to the sides, and his bushy unibrow actually separated.

“I have noticed, but neither of us are hard workers. Might we have a drink?”

“Sure thing. Take a seat.” The man took out two wooden cups and filled them underneath the counter from a container they could not see. He set them down in front of them at their table. “My name is Erik. Enjoy.”

“Before we drink,” Qurrah said, pointing to the cups. “I must say that we have no coin to pay for these. I still would very much like a drink, and I would also like to pay you.”

“Isn’t that how the world always works,” Erik said, waving them off. “You can have the first drink free. Consider it a welcome to our town. I’m afraid the rest of the town won’t be so friendly to your problem, though.” He plopped down at a seat behind the bar. “Not unless you’re ready to work for a few coins, but neither of you looks like the sort to bend your backs in the sun. Those robes. You a priest?”

“No,” Qurrah said, sipping from the cup. He felt the burning liquid on his tongue, fiercely bitter. He swallowed as quickly as possible. “Just a traveler.”

Tessanna dipped her finger into the drink and then put it in her mouth, sucking off the liquid.

“Just travelers,” Erik said, watching Tessanna. “You didn’t arrive here just last night, did you?” When neither answered, the old man nodded. “See, last night I heard a bunch of ruckus while I was sleeping.” He pointed at the floor behind the bar. “That is where my old bones rest, and that is where I woke up to two scared hogs begging for a drink.”

Qurrah took another sip as the old man leaned closer.

“They told me the craziest story about this girl of pure fire, beautiful as a goddess and as dangerous as a snake. Said she just started burning, and then killed one of their friends. Now I hope I don’t imply an insult, fair lady, but you do look as beautiful as a goddess.”

“I’m not poisonous,” Tessanna said, her finger pressed against her teeth as she grinned. “But I do burn people.”

“Why do you tell us this?” Qurrah asked.

“Because a girl like that, well, she could do a lot of things that people here might appreciate. Might even reward them for doing these things.”

Qurrah finished his drink and slid Erik the cup.

“What things?”

“Which bridge did you cross?”

“The eastern,” Qurrah replied. “We’ve come from Neldar. We traveled through Omn too quickly to supply ourselves adequately before we reached the delta.”

The barkeep nodded. It was a story he heard often. Most desperate travelers had run afoul with the law at some point in either Neldar or Omn and thought to start a new life in the west.

“Did you meet Tory when you tried to cross the eastern bridge?” he asked. When they both nodded, he continued. “He moved in here with a group of thugs from Mordeina. Started charging a toll to whoever crossed the bridges. If anyone was well armed he’d just let them go by; he was smart like that. Thing is, he started getting more and more money, and he’s acquired a healthy collection of all things drunkards love up in his little shack north of town. Got to the point where even those with bodyguards had to start paying his toll…and the tolls themselves got much higher.”

Erik walked around the bar and to the door. He glanced outside to ensure no one was nearby. When satisfied, he turned around and approached their table.

“We’re neutral territory. With the stigma of the war hundreds of years ago, no country will touch us. Tory’s started taking whatever he wants from the towns in the delta, and it’s not just food.” He looked pointedly at Tessanna. “He wanted you, didn’t he?”

She nodded.

“I could tell,” she said. “I always can.”

“You’re older than he’d prefer,” Erik said. Qurrah watched as the old man’s hands gripped the table to stop their shaking. “But you’re beauty was enough to sway his tastes. We’ve sent our daughters south to Haven, but not always in time. And he’s begun to go there now…”

Erik had made this offer many times before to travelers passing through his little town. Never once had he seen such rage as he saw in Tessanna’s eyes.

“Little pissfire comes here with men and weapons and thinks he can take what he wants,” she said, her eyes staring into nowhere. “Do the girls live after he is done?”

“He keeps them,” Erik said. He gripped the table harder. A few tears trickled down his cheek. He was too old and tired to hold them all in. “Keeps them until they’re all used up. My granddaughter, she…” He turned and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “She was never the same. She threw herself into the river one night. Said she was certain Tory would come for her again, and she couldn’t do it. She’d rather die.”

Tessanna stood. Her hands took the old man’s and pulled them from the table. She gently kissed his shaking fingers.

“I’ll drown them,” she said. “In their own blood. I promise.”

“He’ll still be at the bridges,” Erik said. “If he’s not, return and I will lead you to his hovel.”

“We need food, water, warmer clothes, and shoes for Tessanna’s feet,” Qurrah said. “Have it ready when we return.”

The old man nodded.

“Go with Ashhur’s blessing.”

To this, Qurrah smirked. “We come bearing death. Ashhur will grant us no blessing.”

S hould we wait until nightfall?” Qurrah asked as they headed into the lush fields north of town that were in various states of final harvest before winter. Tessanna shook her head. Her lips were thin and pulled tight against her teeth. It was rare for her to be so angry, but the abuse of such young girls appeared to be one of the things that could pierce her apathy.

“I won’t give him a chance to take another,” she answered. “He might have a girl waiting for him, just waiting like a little gift when he returns with his men. I won’t let him. I won’t.”

It took only an hour before the bridge grew within sight. The small gray shapes of Tory’s minions littered the construction. They must have spotted them, for at once they rushed across the bridge and lined the near side.

“They fear us, don’t they?” Tessanna asked.

“They are right to,” Qurrah said.

“They’re not afraid enough. Not yet.”

Tessanna did not slow as she neared. Seven men remained of the original twelve that greeted them earlier. Tory did not appear to be one of them. As the guards leered and made their crude comments, Tessanna grabbed the nearest ruffian by the throat and shrieked. The force of her yell knocked them to the ground, all but the one she held. His flesh turned gray, his hair shriveled white, and the cartilage of his nose and ears curled inward to the bone. On and on her shriek continued, a horrific wail of death. The flesh peeled off his skull and his teeth cracked free from their gums.

She let him go. He fell to the ground looking freshly dug from the grave twenty years after his death.

“Where is Tory?” she asked the others as they lay stunned. None answered, for they could not hear through the ringing in their ears. She grabbed the shirt of another man and pushed. Magical energy slammed against his chest, tumbling him off the bridge and into the water below.

“Where is he?” she screamed.

“West,” one said. He was curled against one of the arches that lined the side of the bridge. His hands were pressed against his ears. Blood covered them. “If you’re looking for Tory, he went west, to the other bridge. We haven’t done anything, we swear!”

Tessanna stared into his eyes, the black orbs peering into his soul.

“Did you ever take one to be your own?” she asked in a voice so calm and soft it seemed impossible to have been the same voice shrieking louder than thunder.

As the man stared back, he felt claws within his mind, feasting on his thoughts like a ravenous being. Through it all, a single question pulsed like a heartbeat, and he knew what it was she asked.

“No,” he said. “It just wasn’t…no.”

Tessanna released him and turned to her lover.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Do we let them live?” Qurrah asked, pointing to the men that were slowly getting to their feet.

“Only the one with the bloody ears. The others forfeited their lives long ago.”

Qurrah opened his pouch of bones. The men saw this and fled, racing across the bridge like scared children. Only the one remained, perched against the side with his eyes still locked on Tessanna. He watched, mesmerized, as bones flew past his face and into the necks and skulls of his comrades.

When Qurrah turned around, he saw a swirling black portal hovering above the ground. Tessanna stood before it, her eyes shimmering purple.

“There are shadows in the trees,” she said. “Enter.”

He did as he was told. She followed him in. The portal closed behind them, leaving only the stunned survivor to flee back to Riverend, deaf but alive.

T hey stepped out underneath a great canopy of trees. All around Qurrah saw sturdy brown trunks. Tessanna grabbed his hand and together they weaved through the trunks and brush that scratched at their legs and tore their clothes. The light grew brighter, the trees grew thinner, and then they exited the forest directly east of Ashhur’s bridge.

It looked similar to Karak’s, but instead of three arches on the bottom it had five, and the upper side were formed into a single, triangular mountain. Giant stone soldiers flanked the entrances to the bridge, wielding a sword in one hand and an hourglass in the other. Standing between these two statues was Tory, surrounded by ten of his men.

“He is deadly with knives,” Qurrah said, glancing at his lover. “I would hate to see you cut, so be careful.”

“You see me cut all the time,” Tessanna replied. She started walking toward the bridge. Qurrah took out his whip and followed.

“You took longer than I expected,” Tory shouted as they approached. He seemed jovial at sight of them, clearly unaware of what had transpired at the eastern bridge. Qurrah uncoiled the whip from his arm and let it burst into flame. Tessanna held her arms at an angle from her sides, magic pooling about her fingertips. All white left her eyes as ethereal black wings stretched from her back. Tory took a startled step backward, placing bodies between them.

“I said you can pass,” he shouted. “There’s no need to fight.”

“I know what it is you need,” Tessanna said. Her voice pulsed and changed with each syllable. Coupled with her wings, she seemed an otherworldly demon, furious and beautiful. None had the strength to face her. Tory’s men turned and fled.

“Wait!” he screamed. Flaming leather snaked in around his ankle. He screamed as the fire bit in deep. He screamed again as Tessanna hooked her fingers toward his men and hissed in a language he had never heard before. Screams of the others joined his own. His paid lackeys fell where they stood, covering the bridge with blood that poured out their eyes, mouths, and nostrils.

The whip left his leg. The skin there was black and blistering, and pain flared throughout the right side of his body. Desperate, he drew his dagger and hurled it at the girl with black wings. She never moved. His aim was poor, and instead of piercing her throat, it stabbed into her left breast. Blood poured across her dress, staining the brown fabric a deep red. Qurrah snarled in anger, but the girl reached out her hand to calm him. She showed no sign of pain, no sign of injury. Just anger.

“You could have lived,” she said, pulling out the dagger and dropping it. She passed by the two statues, gently touching one as she stepped onto the bridge. “People take what they can when they are the stronger. Every city, every land, even in nature, this is done. But you took what never should be yours to take. You took what I cannot forgive.”

When her wings brushed the sides of the bridge, they parted like smoke only to reform on the other side. Tory fell to his knees, crying from the pain in his ankle.

“Please, I didn’t do anything,” he begged. “I never harmed you, I never harmed you, I never…”

Her fingers brushed his lips. He quieted.

“You cut me,” she whispered.

Through her fingers, he felt his life pass. The cut on her breast closed, its bleeding halted. Upon his own chest, he felt a searing pain and the wet sensation of blood. He pounded the bridge with shaking hands, pleading as his bladder let go.

“Kill him,” Qurrah said, disgusted. “He begs worse than a dog.”

“Not yet,” Tessanna whispered. She knelt close, so close her warm breath blew against Tory’s ear. “Where is your home, dog? Where do you keep your girls?”

“Outside Riverend,” he said in between sobs. “I’ll show you, please, just don’t kill me.”

“Crawl there,” she said. “On all fours, just like what you are.”

Tory did. He crawled like a dog across the grass and dirt as tears streamed down his face. He had looked back at the bridge only once, but it was enough to send a fresh wave of terror through him. His shack was a mile southeast of the bridge. It was a long crawl.

When Tory reached the building, he collapsed and clutched his burned ankle. His crying had become soft, continuous sobs. The shack, while large, appeared in poor condition. No noise came from within.

“Mind if we take a look inside?” Qurrah asked. Tory gestured toward the door but said nothing. The necromancer yanked it open and went in, Tessanna following.

On one side was a large bed stuffed with feathers. On the other was a stack of barrels filled with alcohol. In the middle was a large table, poorly carved and cut. Laying on the table, her arms and legs bound behind her back, was a girl no older than twelve. She was naked, her dress torn and bunched at the waist. Bruises covered her body. Between her legs was a dried pool of blood. She was gagged and blindfolded. At the sound of their entrance, she quivered and sobbed quietly.

Qurrah approached the table, feeling his own revulsion rising. He had killed children before, but always it had been quick and merciful. What he saw now would result in the same outcome, but far from quick, and far from merciful.

“It’s alright,” Qurrah said. His raspy voice only startled the girl further, so he reached out and removed her blindfold. She looked at him with brown eyes that were already filled with tears. “It’s alright,” he said again. “We’re here to help you.”

“She will hurt for years,” Tessanna said, removing the gag. “I doubt she will conceive children. What is your name, girl?”

“Julie.” Her lower lip quivered, and she appeared on the verge of losing control. Tessanna shook her head and put her finger to the girl’s lips.

“Be strong now. I made a promise, and I always keep them. You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared he’ll return? I know how to fix it. I know how to make things right.” She glanced at Qurrah. “Bring him inside.”

Julie closed her eyes and turned away when Tory came crawling in. Bruises covered his hands and knees. Sweat poured from his face. He kept his eyes to the floor.

“Look at him,” Tessanna said, wrapping the little girl in her arms and rocking her side to side. “Open your eyes and look at him. He won’t hurt you anymore.” Julie did look. Her legs squirmed, instinctively closing her knees and thighs tight. She was yet to speak, but Tessanna sensed within her a toughness that made her proud.

“How many days?” she asked. When the girl did not answer, she looked to Tory. “How many days, dog?”

“I don’t know,” he said. Qurrah wrapped his whip about Tory’s neck and pulled it tight.

“I could set it aflame,” he said as the man gagged for air.

“Fifteen,” he gasped through clenched teeth. Qurrah released the whip. Tessanna stroked the girl’s hair. Fifteen days. Fifteen days of being a toy for so many men, taken again and again as blood pooled between her thighs and her bruises darkened.

“Drowning is too good for you,” Tessanna whispered. “But it will have to do.”

She released the girl and placed her hand atop the table as she whispered a few words of magic. The blood that had dried suddenly turned wet and sticky. It ran down a table leg, collecting in a small red puddle on the floor. Thin ropes of it stretched out and wrapped around Tory’s hands and feet. As he let out a cry of shock, a long red tendril wrapped around his neck and choked in his scream.

“Watch, Julie,” Tessanna said. Larger and larger the blood puddle grew, pulsing with frightening strength. “Watch how even your monsters can die. You aren’t helpless. Not to them. Not to anyone.”

The tendrils dragged Tory by the neck toward the pool from which it stretched. The man’s head hovered an inch above it, his mouth open and gasping for air as the blood swirled. Qurrah crossed his arms and watched, fascinated. He had seen blood magically enhanced and controlled but this was something special.

“Do you remember everything he did to you?” Tessanna asked Julie as she held out her hand. The girl took it as she nodded. “Then will you be strong for me? Strong for yourself?” Again the girl nodded.

Tory fought against the bonds, but they were too tight. He was losing feeling in his hands and his head felt as if it would explode.

“Put your hand here,” Tessanna said. She held Julie’s hands in her own, gently guiding them atop Tory’s head. She pressed it firm. A shiver went through her. “Now kneel down and whisper to him. Just one word. Will you do that for me? Whisper just one word?”

Julie looked back and forth, her teeth chewing hard on her top lip. But something about Tessanna’s eyes soothed her, and so she nodded again.

“I will,” Julie said.

Tessanna knelt down and whispered the word to her. The girl seemed to understand. She left Tessanna’s arms and knelt beside Tory, her hand still atop his head. The man’s face was above the pool of blood, his chin dipping in and out of its disturbingly warm surface. Julie looked the man in the eyes, remembering how he had hurt her. Remembering the other men that had taken her, beaten her, and shouting things she did not understand. When he looked back at her, she saw no shame, no remorse, just cowardice and fear. She found the courage to say the word.

“Drown,” she said, and then she pushed. The tendril snapped down. Tory’s face smashed into the pool. Julie yanked back her hand as blood splashed in all directions. He shook and struggled, his head completely submerged. Screams bubbled up from beneath. Tessanna held Julie’s hand as they watched.

When he was dead, Qurrah pulled his head out from the blood. His face was smashed and broken. Tessanna smiled even as her emotions faded away into apathy.

“You’re safe now,” she said to Julie. “You were strong, and now you’re safe.”

“Let’s bring her back to Erik,” Qurrah said, wrapping up his whip and opening the door to the shack. “He can find where she belongs.”

Tessanna took Julie’s hand and walked her home.

E rik was waiting for them at the entrance to his tavern. He had dragged a stool outside and propped it next to the door. At sight of Julie he straightened in his seat, and a grin spread across his face.

“He’s…he is, isn’t he?” the old barkeep said. “Ashhur be praised.”

“Ashhur had nothing to do with this,” Qurrah said, glancing down at the girl. “She has been tortured for days. If anything, he should be cursed for allowing such a thing to happen.”

“We all see things as we wish,” Erik said, offering his hand to Julie. “Come with me, child. You’re from Haven, aren’t you?” The girl nodded and accepted his hand. Erik smiled and gestured to a burlap sack bundled next to him.

“Food, water, and shoes for your lady,” he said. “Should last you at least two weeks.”

“It will last us far longer,” Qurrah said, hoisting it onto his back.

“Light eaters?” Erik asked.

“Very,” Tessanna said, giggling at his quizzical look. She knelt before Julie and placed her hands on either side of her face. “You be strong now,” she whispered. “Be strong, and the hurt will go away.”

“I will,” Julie said.

“Sure you folks can’t stay a night or two,” Erik said. He gestured about. “People will be in a festive mood hearing the young devil’s dead. A lot of parents here got daughters that can finally return from Haven, and plenty others that already buried their own would love to toast your health.”

“We must move on,” Qurrah said, digging through the pack. “And there we are.” He pulled out a pair of rough leather moccasins and offered them to Tessanna. She put them on and smiled.

“Much better,” she said.

“Might I ask where you’re headed?” Erik said as the two prepared to leave.

“To the Sanctuary,” Qurrah answered. “Do you know the way?”

“A semblance of a road leads out from the western Bridge,” Erik said, his hand on Julie’s shoulder. “Follow it until it turns completely north. Farther west you’ll see some mountains. The Sanctuary’s built into their base. You’ll have no trouble finding it.”

“Many thanks again,” Qurrah said.

Q urrah and Tessanna camped miles past the western bridge, having crossed out of the delta and into the land of Ker. They had ridden Seletha to make up for the time they had lost, and the ache in Qurrah’s back constantly reminded him why he hated doing so. The stars were blocked by a line of clouds that had come rolling from the north. Fearing rain, the two huddled close, their backs against the trunk of a giant tree that sprouted like a lone fixture amid the great pasture.

“What did you think of her,” Tessanna asked, breaking the silence they had shared for the past hour.

“Who? The girl?” Qurrah asked.

“Julie. I like that name. So simple and pretty.”

“Why do you ask me this?”

Tessanna turned and buried her head in his chest.

“Because she would have been a good daughter. I would have understood her, and she would have understood me.”

“We could have kept her,” Qurrah said. “No one would have known.”

Tessanna smiled.

“You know we can’t. Not yet. We’re going to do some fighting at the Sanctuary, aren’t we?”

The half-orc stroked her hair.

“If we must. Lathaar told Tarlak that few there knew of the tome’s existence. They should be unprepared for our arrival.”

“Lathaar left far before we did. If he warns them?”

“Then more will die than I’d prefer.”

They quieted for a bit. Tessanna stared at the clouds, her mind drifting far away.

“He’s almost there,” she said, her voice dreamy. “He doesn’t know we follow, but he fears it. He doesn’t know about Aullienna. If he did, he’d ride faster. He’d know we chased.” She wrapped her arms around Qurrah’s neck. “I would have been a good mother for her,” she whispered. “Do you believe me?”

He kissed her forehead. “Of course I do.”

She pressed her face back against his chest, hiding the few tears that dripped down her cheeks.

“Then why’d you kill Aullienna,” she whispered as the rain drowned out her words. “Why?”