“When Ashhur and Karak warred, there were elves that sought to end their war,” she said. “Against Celestia’s orders, they joined Karak, hoping with their aid the conflict would finally end. When our goddess imprisoned the two gods, she cursed those elves. She stripped them of their beauty, their intelligence, and their long life. They weren’t evil, Harruq, but Karak offered them strength and they accepted it. The dark god drove them to war against elves and men. Finally the orcs were banished to the Vile Wedge between the rivers.”
“Do any still worship Karak?”
“Most don’t,” Aurelia said. “They’ve turned to worshipping animals now. I’ve even heard of some worshipping Celestia once more, hoping she will forgive them and remove their curse. They are a sad race, Harruq, but believe me in saying there is no shame in your blood.”
The half-orc shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet Aurelia’s eyes. He watched her trace lines in the grass. Seeking a way to lighten the mood, he asked her how to spell his name.
“Harruq?” she asked. “Hrm. My best guess would be H-a-r-r-u-k.”
A soft blow of air from her lips turned the grass to dirt so that a large space lay available for her to write on. She wrote ‘Harruk’ in the dirt with her finger, spacing out each letter. Harruq stared at the words representing his name, feeling a tiny thrill.
“How about my last name, Tun?”
She wrote out T-u-n. The half-orc stared, absorbing every detail of his name.
“Can I see your name?” he asked. Aurelia nodded, tracing her hand across the dirt.
“A-u-r-e-l-i-a.”
The half-orc smiled at the name.
“It even looks all pretty,” he said, eliciting a laugh. “Do Qurrah now.”
Aurelia did not begin writing immediately, instead thinking over the pronunciation.
“Qurrah,” she said at last. “It is a little tricky, but I bet it is spelled like this.”
Letter by letter she wrote ‘Qurrah’ in the dirt. Harruq stared at it, whispering his brother’s name as his eyes traced the letters. As he did, a thought hit him. His eyes went back and forth from his own name and Qurrah’s.
“You spelled my name wrong,” Harruq said.
“What? How?”
The half-orc reached over, erased the k in his name and drew a clumsy, capitalized Q at the end. He leaned back and smiled. The name in the dirt now read ‘HarruQ’.
“Why did you change it?” she asked. “It’s a rather odd spelling.”
“Look at my brother’s name,” he said. Aurelia did, and then she saw what Harruq had also seen.
“Your name is your brother’s, only backwards.”
“Yup,” Harruq laughed. “Mum was always smart for an orc. Even knew how to read, if you believe that. Bet she did that on purpose.”
“Yes, but why?”
Harruq shrugged. “Thought she was being clever? Who knows, but I can spell my name now!”
“Good for you,” Aurelia laughed. “Now go on home, you bother me. And you smell.”
“Well fine then,” the half-orc said, feigning insult. “Me know when me no wanted.”
Such a purposeful use of poor grammar could not go unpunished. Harruq dodged the first two springs of water but the third one caught him square in the face. He was still dripping when he arrived home.
“You and her go swimming?” Qurrah asked him.
“Shaddup,” was all he said.
Qurrah laughed. The pit in his stomach suddenly didn’t seem so awful.
A urelia!” Dieredon screamed to the wilderness. Birds whistled back, but no elven voice spoke back.
“Aurelia!” he shouted again, wincing at the pain in his chest. After arriving in town, he had found one of his stashed healing potions and downed it. His ribs had gone from several pieces to just a single break, and his shoulder was slowly regaining strength. It would still be days before he was back to full health, days he did not have to spare.
“I’m here,” Aurelia said after the third yell from Dieredon. The elf turned and smiled at her even though she winced and moved to examine his arm, which remained in a sling.
“They are nothing,” he told her. “Please, you must listen to me. Stay away from the half-orcs. They aren’t safe.”
“Nonsense,” she said. She guided a hand across his chest, feeling the break. Her hand then traveled to his shoulder, and a deep frown grew across her face.
“What did this to you?” she asked.
“The man in black, the one continuing to train the half-orcs. I approached him last night. He nearly killed me.”
“Harruq is no threat to me,” Aurelia insisted. “And I have met Qurrah. He showed me nothing but kindness.”
“Then it is a false kindness,” Dieredon said. He paused for a moment, grabbed his chest with his healthy arm, and then looked up at her again. Pain was evident in his eyes.
“That man has an army of undead. I barely managed to hide until daylight. Woodhaven is in danger, and so are you.”
Aurelia stepped back, frowning.
“Are you sure it was Harruq?”
“I saw the warrior with my own eyes. I ignored them and went after the master, just as you asked.” He gestured to his wounds. “You can see my reward. I could not kill him. There are very few I cannot kill, Aurelia, and I do not appreciate adding another to that list.”
“I will still see him,” Aurelia said. “I will be careful, but I will still see him. He needs me. I know it.”
Dieredon gave a one-shoulder shrug.
“Very well. I will trust you, Aurelia.”
He turned to go. Aurelia grabbed his hand and stopped him.
“Where will you go?”
The elf glanced back to her.
“War is coming. I must alert my kin. If this man and his army do attack Woodhaven, he will find the Quellan army descending upon him from the sky. Besides, I have been separated from Sonowin far too long. I miss her.”
Aurelia smiled for the first since she had seen Dieredon.
“I am surprised you have gone so long without retrieving her,” Aurelia said. “She is a beautiful horse. I wish to see her when you return.”
“I promise,” Dieredon said. Aurelia released his hand.
“May Celestia watch over you,” she said as he left.
“And she over you,” Dieredon replied. Then he was gone, through the forest and back into town. There he bought a sturdy horse and began his long ride south to the Quellan forest.
I t is a beautiful blade,” Harruq said, examining the elven weapon that had belonged to Ahrqur. They were killing the final hour before dark. Then they would hoist the wrapped body onto Harruq’s shoulder and sneak out of town. Qurrah sat meditating in a corner while Harruq yammered to himself. The blade was in one hand, the decorative scabbard in the other.
“He was a skilled swordsman,” Qurrah said. “He was also arrogant. I would expect such a blade from one like him.”
Harruq shrugged. “If I didn’t have my own two swords, I’d use it.”
The half-orc cut the blade through the air a few times and then sheathed it. He turned the weapon over in his hands, marveling at the swimming colors of dark green and black. He paused when he found a name written in gold near the hilt.
“Tun’del,” Harruq read aloud, slowly and carefully. “He even has his name on his sword.”
“Did I not say he was arrogant?”
Harruq stared at the name on the scabbard, mesmerized by the beauty of the writing. He ran his fingers over it, enjoying the feeling of pure gold. When he covered the second half, he paused.
“Qurrah,” Harruq said. “Look at this.”
