The Shadows of Grace

20

Q urrah hurried throughout the camp, doing his best to find comforts that weren’t there. Pillows, blankets, even torn cloaks would do. He looked wearied and feverish, his skin pale and his shoulders stooped.

“She still has weeks before she will be give birth,” Velixar said as he watched Qurrah search through their supplies. “There is no need to panic.”

“The months have been hard on her,” Qurrah said, shaking his head. “Traveling night and day, hanging from the arms of demons, all because we cannot rest, cannot slow.”

“She is a strong woman. And Veldaren is not far. Just a few more days, Qurrah, she can last that long.”

“No!” Qurrah shouted. He turned and gestured to the surrounding forest, the trees blooming with orange flowers and thick, wide leaves. “Here. We stay here.”

The man in black crossed his arms. His shifting face narrowed in the center, as if his entire being were focused where he glared.

“You will be vulnerable,” said Velixar. “We have not made it this far for you to be ambushed now.”

“Harruq’s pets are miles away,” Qurrah said. “And it doesn’t matter. Months left or not, our child is coming soon. Tess knows it, and I trust her. Now please, out of my way.”

Velixar stepped aside. As Qurrah hurried past, Velixar pulled his hood low and looked away.

“I will be near,” he said. “There is an old altar to Karak a mile north, following the creek upstream. I will pray for you both.”

“Thank you,” Qurrah said, his entire body sagging as if hundreds of men clung to his back and limbs. “But we won’t need it.”

The demon army took flight as the sun set, leaving Qurrah alone in the sudden silence. To him, it was a great relief. Solitude was something he craved, and for months, solitude was the one thing he had been denied during their flight across Dezrel. But now they were alone, just he and Tessanna.

“Finally,” Qurrah whispered.

Deeper into the forest the trees closed together, as if their trunks and roots intertwined, making them one being. Tessanna lay against one such tree with two trunks, a few thin blankets underneath her swollen form. Sweat poured down her face.

“Not ready,” Tessanna said as she saw his approach.

“You will do fine,” Qurrah said, laying a cloak across her body as she shivered in the cool night air.

“Not me,” she said, then winced as an enormous cramp filled her abdomen. She closed her eyes and clawed the grass. Qurrah watched, a horrible sickness in his chest. His beloved was suffering, and there was nothing he could do to ease the pain. Nothing he could do to quicken the experience. He could only remain at her side, impotent, worthless.

No, he thought as Tessanna grabbed his hand and held on as if her whole body were falling from him. He wasn’t worthless. He was needed, desperately so. He put both his hands around hers, and when her pain subsided he allowed himself to smile.

“You will be a good mother,” he said to her.

“And you’ll be a horrible father,” she said, aware enough in her exhaustion to crack a smile. “Get me something to bite. This is only going to get worse.”

He found her a stick, used his dagger to carve off the crumbly outer layer, and then handed it to her. She bit down on the center, breathed deep, and then moaned as another wave of pain flooded through her abdomen. Qurrah held her hand, stroked her face, and kept silent, wishing again and again he could ease her pain.

An hour passed. He checked her only once, and saw nothing resembling a baby. Her cramps worsened, and it seemed she clung to life by a single, vicious thread of pain and determination. Every wave she leaned forward, tears flowing from her eyes as she moaned and screamed and pushed. Every wave he thought she would die, her tiny frame breaking under the stress. But she was strong, so much stronger than he had ever given her credit for.

Another hour passed. He checked her, and saw what he thought was a head. He kissed her fingers and told her.

“I know,” Tessanna said between deep, labored breaths. “I can feel her when I push.”

“Her?” Qurrah asked, a tiny smile pulling at his lips.

“I know it’s a her,” she said, leaning back and trying to relax even as her lower back throbbed in agony. “I just know.”

The night deepened. Every few minutes her screams pierced the silence. Tessanna felt the baby’s shoulders push through. The pain was beyond immense. The pain was everything. Blood poured out of her. Qurrah knelt at her feet, a blanket in his hands. She had to be close, she had to be. Her body couldn’t take anymore. She felt herself tearing. The contractions worsened. She pushed and pushed.

“Get it out of me,” she sobbed, her dark hair matted to her face.

“One more,” Qurrah said, same as always. “Just one more.”

She gave him one more. She pushed, and Qurrah cried out as he saw the child’s head push through. Fluids rushed over his hands, but he didn’t care. He grabbed the little form and pulled.

“A girl,” Qurrah said as he lifted her to his chest. The forest turned silent but for Tessanna’s gasps of air. The silence turned cold.

“Qurrah?” Tessanna said, trying to sit up but unable to muster the strength. “Qurrah? Say something!”

The child wasn’t moving.

Qurrah used his dagger to cut the umbilical cord, then dropped it. He put his finger into the baby’s mouth, clearing out what he could see, but it didn’t matter. He held no life. He held a shell. He stroked the girl’s face with a trembling hand. Her eyes were closed. Her nose was scrunched against her face from the birth. Red splotches covered her slimy pink skin. But she was beautiful. And she was stillborn.

“Qurrah!” Tessanna cried amid a deep sob.

“You bastard,” Qurrah whispered, tears pouring down his cheeks. “How dare you? How dare you…”

“Give her to me,” Tessanna screamed. Qurrah wrapped the body in a cloak and handed it over. Tessanna clung the child to her chest, weeping. Qurrah stood, his whole body shaking, his heart swirling with too many emotions to understand. Above it all, above the pain and the betrayal, he felt anger.

“He promised us a life,” Qurrah said. “He promised.”

He gestured to their child.

“Is this the promise of Karak?”

“Don’t leave me,” Tessanna said between wracking sobs. “Please, don’t leave me.”

He knelt beside her, and into his pale, shriveled hands he took the baby’s small fingers. The pain inside him seemed unbearable. The sense of loss, beyond anything.

“What have I done to you, brother?” he dared ask. “Is this it?”

He stood. Tessanna lay there, blood pooled about her as if she were some sacrificial offering to a craven deity.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded.

“He promised,” Qurrah said, stumbling north. “I have to.”

The forest was red to him. Red with death. Red with anger. High above the stars were drops of blood, like that which covered his daughter, his divine curse. Everything he had done. Everything he had offered and lost. Cruel. Cruel and vicious and horrific. Someone had to pay. Someone had to suffer, as he suffered.

The trees suddenly cleared, and Velixar waited by a fire amid a circle of stones. He stood, and at the look in his disciple’s eyes he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“What happened?” he asked.

Qurrah did not answer. Instead, he hurled a bolt of shadow at Velixar’s chest. Stunned, Velixar staggered back as the magic crushed his bones and tore into his rotting flesh. The second bolt, however, he did block, batting it aside with his hand as his glowing eyes glared in the darkness.

“How dare you strike at me?” Velixar said. “Tell me what happened!”

“You are a liar!” Qurrah shouted. Purple flame poured from his fingers. Velixar crossed his arms and summoned a shield. The fire rolled across it, unable to penetrate. Qurrah’s whip lashed out next, cracking across the shield with loud sparks of flame. Velixar released his protection, leaped away from the whip, and then clapped his hands. Shadows shot like arrows from the sky, each one piercing Qurrah’s flesh and dissolving into mist that flooded his body with pain. Qurrah ignored it with ease. He had felt more pain that he had ever thought imaginable. A few stinging darts meant nothing.

He braced his wrists together and stretched his fingers. A solid beam of magic shot forth, sparkling with stars and planets of a lost galaxy. Velixar crossed his arms and raised them high. A wall of stone tore from the ground. The beam shattered it like glass. Velixar rolled, barely dodging the beam, which continued on through several trees, exploding their trunks and burning their leaves. The trees collapsed, and from their branches the grass set fire. Smoke billowed as the two glared, their forms demonic in the flickering red and yellow light.

“When have I lied?” Velixar asked as he staggered to his feet. “I promised you Tessanna would conceive, and she did!”

“The child was dead!” Qurrah shouted back. “You promised us a lie. A cruel joke. Everything you are, everything you claim, is a lie or a joke.”

“I am the only truth this world has ever known,” Velixar roared. He grabbed a clump of dirt and threw it. The dirt melted into a black goop that burst into flame, slamming into Qurrah’s chest with the force of a bull. Qurrah collapsed to the ground, gasping for air and rolling along the grass to put out the fire.

“What truth do you know?” Velixar asked. “Tell me, oh wise one.”

“Truth?” Qurrah gasped on his hands and knees. “I know one. My brother loved me, and I hurt him more than I ever knew.”

“Your brother,” Velixar said, throwing his hands up in disgust. “He was weak, a fool. He turned his back on the both of us, Qurrah, you once knew that as well as I!”

Qurrah stood and raised his hands high. Spells slipped through his lips. All around the fire grew in strength, fully surrounding them. It was as if they were in their own personal piece of the Abyss, reserved just for them. From within the fire, bones tore up from the ground, the remains of many sacrificed hundreds of years ago in the name of Karak. Gripping them in his mind, he flung them like spears at Velixar.

Karak’s prophet made a noise akin to a growl as the bones smacked into his face and chest. He pointed at Qurrah, his patience ended.

“ Hemorrhage, ” said Velixar.

Qurrah gasped as a large portion of his chest exploded in a shower of blood. He collapsed to his knees, his arms clutched tight against his body. He tried to cast a spell, but his head was dizzy, his vision blurred through tears and exhaustion.

“Kill me,” Qurrah said as Velixar approached. “Kill me, and let the weight of the portal crush you as well. I am too damn tired for this.”

Velixar paused, fighting for words.

“I promised you a child,” he finally said. “But even I do not hold the gift of life. If it was denied to you, then it was denied to you by Celestia, or Ashhur, not by me.”

Qurrah wiped tears from his eyes, smearing blood across his face.

“I will never trust a word you say,” Qurrah said, glaring through his blurred vision.

Velixar shook his head as he stood.

“Such a shame,” he said. “Suffer however you wish. This world is almost ended. I have no time for your doubt and self-pity.”

He turned and walked through the fire, and he was not burned. Qurrah got to one knee, took a deep breath, and stood. His heart pounded in his ears. He wasn’t sure which way was south. He closed his eyes, and in his heart he begged Tessanna to help him. When he looked again, the fire had parted before him. He hurried through, still clutching his chest. He ran past trees when he saw them, and stumbled off of them when he didn’t. His mind was desperate. He had to get to her. He had to hurry.

When he found her she still held their child in her arms. She was crying.

“You left me,” she cried when he returned. “How could you leave me?”

He stumbled to her side, buried his face in her neck, and held on for dear life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling consciousness fading fast. “Please, Tess, I’m so sorry.”

And then he saw nothing, heard nothing, but in his dreams, he still felt the pain. It seemed no matter what, he would never escape it.

He dreamt of their child, never even given a name.

Q urrah awoke covered with a cold sweat. His chest felt like ants crawled just underneath his flesh, biting and digging. It was still dark, the stars hidden by branches.

“It hurts to move,” he heard Tessanna say to him. He shifted closer to her on the dirt, resting his head against her chest.

“We’ll be all right,” he told her.

“She needs to be buried,” Tessanna said.

At this Qurrah turned over and looked at his lover. The dead child was still in her arms, completely wrapped in the torn cloak. It was a tiny, pitiful package.

“I’ll do it,” Qurrah said. He got on one knee, then clutched the dirt as a wave of dizziness assaulted him. He fought it away. So what if he’d lost a lot of blood. He’d lost more before, and he had no time for weakness. He stood, took a few steps away from the tree, and saw a patch of soft earth.

“I have nothing to dig with,” he said, glancing back to his lover.

“Your hands,” she said.

He fell to his knees and started digging. Rocks tore at his soft skin, and his fingernails cracked as they dug into the cold ground. He ignored the pain. At one point a jagged edge of a stone cut into his finger, and as his blood dripped into the grave he found it oddly fitting. At last he stood, curled his arms against his chest, and nodded to the dead child.

“Give her to me,” he said.

She offered the bundled cloak, and he took it, sickness growing in his stomach as he felt how little it weighed. Tears ran down his face, along the scars he had cut, determined reminders at how he had sworn to cry no more for his brother, to weep no more for his guilt and his loss. They seemed pathetic now, a ridiculous gesture. He might as well have stabbed himself in the heart.

Into the ground went the bundle. He returned the dirt to its hole, and all the while his gut groaned with anger and hurt.

“A fire,” Tessanna said when he finished. “Build a fire atop her grave.”

He had not the heart to argue or question her desire. He gathered a few branches and piled them together. A simple spell, and sparks flew from his fingers, setting the wood aflame. A shallow grave with a fire for a tombstone. Again, fitting.

“We have to name her,” he said as he watched the fire burn. Tessanna sat up, dragging her lower body as if she were paralyzed. She scooted back so she could lean against the tree, and as her head pressed against the bark she let her eyes linger on the fire.

“Teralyn,” Tessanna said, closing her eyes. “My mother's name. Let her die as Teralyn.”

“She can’t die,” Qurrah said, an ugly frown on his face. “She never lived.”

“She lived inside me!” Tessanna shouted, startling him. “Don’t you dare say that!”

He felt foolish and vile. “I’m sorry,” he said. He knelt beside the fire and spread his arms as if he were an offering. The heat washed over him. Silence followed for several long minutes. Any time the fire flickered or weakened Qurrah tossed another branch onto it and showered it with sparks. He had every intention on having it burn throughout the night. He felt he could live forever without sleep. His dreams, he didn’t remember them, but he remembered the horror chasing him when he awoke.

“What do we do now?” Tessanna asked, breaking the oppressive silence.

“Velixar lied to us,” Qurrah said.

“Do we turn against him?” she asked. She bit down on one of her nails and chewed. “He’s powerful. Not as much as he used to be, but neither are you. And if he dies, you die.”

“I can release my grip on the portal,” Qurrah said. “It will crush him if he tries to keep it open.”

“Then we won’t be able to escape,” she said. “We’ll be stuck here, forever, with mommy watching me and your brother hating you. Everyone will want us dead, Qurrah, everyone!”

She started sobbing.

“Then what do we do?” Qurrah asked. “Continue on with Velixar? Keep serving Karak? He has given us nothing and taken everything. I cannot live this life anymore. I would rather die.”

“Live for me,” Tessanna said. “Just for me. Can’t I be enough?”

He sat down beside her, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and leaned against the tree.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if anything will ever be enough.”

“For once, trust me,” she said, burying her head in his chest to wipe away her tears. He kissed the top of her head and wondered if he could.

V elixar arrived while the two still slept. He watched them, clinging desperately to each other even in their dreams. Nearby he saw a dying fire, and he sensed the death that lingered about it.

“Never before have I asked for a miracle,” Velixar prayed. “But Celestia’s power is dwindling. Perhaps there is time.”

He scattered the embers with his hand, then dug into the dirt. He glanced at the two lovers, making sure they still slept. He did not want to wake them. If there was anything that could damage them further, it was false hope. Faster and faster he dug, casting aside the earth until he found the bundled cloak. Closing his eyes, he slipped his hand within its folds until he felt cold flesh.

“Give her life,” Velixar prayed. “Whatever life you can give.”

He felt the power flow out of him, into the dead child he touched. The voice of Karak rang in his ears, strong and clear.

I do not mean him to suffer, Velixar heard. But this world is broken and dying, and there is naught I can do to stop it. But I will. One day, my faithful servant, we will end all their suffering.

The power ceased. He felt the child move. Eyes still closed, his magic wandered, and letting out a sigh he felt his spirit drop. The child moved, yes, but it was undead, just like any other corpse he had drawn from its grave. He let go of the child and stood.

“They could never love you,” he said to the squirming bundle. “Such a shame.”

He waved his hand, bathing it in fire. As the grave was consumed, he heard a noise from behind, like a soft cry of a bird. He glanced back to see Tessanna watching him, her mouth open, her eyes locked wide. There was no trace of sanity in them.

“Get out of here,” she said. “I will kill you if I see you again. You’re sick, and you’ve poisoned us all.”

“I only meant to help,” Velixar said.

“Fuck your intent,” she said. “Leave. Now.”

Qurrah stirred, and as he did, Velixar shook his head and left. The half-orc opened his eyes, saw the fire, then the chaos in his lover’s eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“He was here,” she said. “Now he’s gone. And I’m glad.”

Qurrah pulled his arms free of her and stood. Pangs of hunger rumbled through him, but the thought of food nearly made him vomit. He staggered over to a nearby tree and leaned his arms against it, and with slow, labored breaths stared at the ground until his nausea passed.

“We’ll go to Veldaren,” he said. “We’ll go and demand our freedom, just as we were promised.”

“And if we’re not given it?” Tessanna asked.

“They’ll free me or they’ll kill me,” Qurrah said. “I won’t suffer any other option.”

Tessanna frowned but nodded.

“Help me to the creek,” she said. “I stink of sweat and blood.”

He more carried her than helped her walk. She winced when he put her into the water, but it felt good. It felt cleansing.

“Qurrah?” she asked as she submersed all but her head. “Is death really preferable over a life here with me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, but he did not meet her eyes when he said it. She saw this and started crying. She dipped her head under the water to hide her tears.

It was another day before she was strong enough to travel. The time passed as if both were within dreams. The demons were gone. The armies were gone. There were only the sounds of the forest and the animals within. Deep in his heart, Qurrah longed for the days when it was just him and Tess alone in a small cabin in the heart of the king’s forest.

“What happened to those days?” he asked aloud as he dabbed his hand into the stream.

“What days?” Tessanna asked.

He only shook his head.

They traveled southeast, knowing when they exited the forest Veldaren would not be far. Slowly Qurrah realized where they were, and a strange thought came to him.

“The Eschaton tower,” he said as they walked hand in hand. “It should be near.”

“It is,” Tessanna said, her voice a complete drone. She had fallen into her apathetic self, and to Qurrah’s nagging worry, she seemed unable to come out of it. “We’re also near where we first made love. Aullienna died in this forest, and now Teralyn. So much has happened here. Do you remember the assassins we killed, the ones after Aurelia?”

“You were frightening and beautiful,” Qurrah said.

“I often am.”

They altered their path, and for the next few hours walked in silence. They were nearing the tower, a place that had once been their home. They had been back only once since Aullienna’s death, right before Velixar’s army had assaulted Veldaren and torn its walls asunder. It seemed a lifetime had passed, but as they stepped out of the forest the tower loomed before them, same as it had always been.

“Why are we here?” Qurrah asked as he stopped and looked at the tower, nostalgia tugging at his heart.

“Because we miss it,” she said. “Because we were happy here.”

“Happy,” Qurrah said, and he chuckled as if the mere notion were insane. “I’ve almost forgotten the feeling.”

“You knew it,” Tessanna said, grabbing her lover’s hand and holding it against her abdomen. “When you felt Teralyn move inside me. Is it so easy to forget?”

He kissed her cheek, again feeling vile and worthless.

“You’re right,” he said. “But not easy. Just far too hard.”

The doors were unlocked, and he opened them with dread lurking in the back of his head.

No good will come of this, he thought. Nothing.

He walked inside anyway, Tessanna holding his hand. Dust covered the couches and floors, the air thick and dry. Any other time thieves might have ransacked the place, but what thieves remained in the world? Demons poured into the conquered city mere miles away, all life sworn to them or extinguished.

They climbed the stairs. The dream-feeling grew stronger. They both knew where they were going. They both knew why they were there. Qurrah’s dread grew. Could he face what he looked for? Could he admit to the wound he had pretended healed years ago? At the top of the stairs there was a door, and behind the door, his brother’s old room. He pushed it open.

Aurelia had once cast illusions all over the place, carpeting the floor with grass and turning the walls to sky. The illusions had faded, so that the room appeared barren. The ground was a dull stone. The walls were gray. He walked past the bed to the small attached room. He felt Tessanna’s grip on his hand turn to iron. Aullienna’s room. The crib was gone. The whole room, empty. Qurrah stepped inside and fell to his knees. He remembered when he had first seen her. He had been angry at his brother for giving her an elvish name. So angry, he had refused to even touch the swaddled infant. He could hardly understand that anger now. The orcish blood flowing through him felt like a curse, one that haunted his life and tormented him with death and anguish.

“How did you ever forgive me?” he asked as Tessanna wrapped her arms around his neck. “I never understood, and I never let myself feel it. I always blamed him, I always…”

“Hush,” Tessanna said, kissing his neck. “Just hush. I forgave you because I had to if I still wanted to love you.”

“Could he ever forgive me?” Qurrah asked, staring at his hands as if they were coated with blood.

Tessanna leaned back. She wasn’t sure what she believed, what she wanted to believe, and what she simply feared. She had many answers, but she chose the one that scared her least.

“No,” she said. “He could never forgive you.”

The answer seemed to crush Qurrah’s body, but he nodded in agreement.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t deserve it. But he deserves better. For all his faults, he stayed true to me. I was wrong, Tess. He never abandoned me. I abandoned him. And I will make it right.”

Qurrah stood, and he clutched her hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I must find my brother,” he said. “Before it is too late.”

“You’re scaring me,” Tessanna said, at last a bit of emotion creeping into her voice.

“Because I am scared,” he said. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where will we find him?” she asked. “ How will you find him?”

“Their army gives chase,” Qurrah said. “They will lay siege to Veldaren in a desperate attempt to close the portal. My brother will be with them.”

She kissed his lips and then held onto him for dear life.

“I won’t leave you,” she said. “Long as you never make me, I’ll never leave you.”

Qurrah kissed her back but stayed silent. That silence was an arrow into her, but like all her pain, she hid it behind her masks, her apathy.

They slept at the top of the tower that night, huddled, broken, and so very close to dead.