magic flowing from him to encircle the body.
“ Kala mar, yund cthular! ” Velixar shrieked in a voice stronger than his frail form should have possessed. The call echoed throughout the night, sending wolves yipping away and night owls crashing in a squawking frenzy. The symbols on the body flared to a brilliant crimson.
A sense of exaltation soared through both necromancers as Ahrqur opened his eyes and snarled.
“Rise, slave,” Velixar commanded. “Your soul is trapped in your body and answers only my command.”
The naked elf rose, his eyes burning with red rage. The symbols on his body faded until they were but faint scars.
“Give him his clothes,” Velixar ordered his student. Qurrah fetched a pair of black pants, a red shirt, and a black cloak, all of which Velixar had prepared before the brothers had brought the bloodless body to him.
“Dress,” the necromancer ordered. Ahrqur growled some inane argument, but a glare from Velixar sent him cowering.
“You must obey my every command, wretch, before you may return to the peaceful death you left. Fight me and you shall find your stay here spanning time greater than your understanding.”
The undead Ahrqur whimpered. Qurrah watched the display, fighting against feelings of jealousy. He had commanded Ahrqur’s spirit to speak truthfully, but Velixar’s very glare sent him groveling to his knees. The elf stood and dressed, covering his white form in the red and black garb. Once dressed, Harruq gave him the ornate elven blade.
“Your quest is a simple one,” he told his slave. “Go to Veldaren. Do whatever you must to sneak into the king’s castle. Kill if needed. When you find King Vaelor, wound him but do not kill him. Do not be captured, either. Die in combat.”
Ahrqur nodded, his eyes seething. Velixar reached out and placed his hand on the elf’s forehead. Qurrah watched as smoke rose from their contact, yet neither flinched. When the necromancer drew back his hand, a strange symbol lay overtop the faint scarring of the slanted Y. It was of a fallen man wreathed in flame.
“When you fall, the enchantment upon your forehead shall burn your body to ash. Then your soul may find peace.”
“I shall do as you command,” Ahrqur said in a lifeless voice.
“Of course,” Velixar said. “There is no other way.”
Ahrqur glanced to Qurrah, and his mouth opened to speak. Both Tun brothers felt a bit of panic, wondering what their new master might say if he learned what they had done. Instead, he closed his mouth and glared at Velixar one last time before running north on legs that would never tire.
“When will you know of his success or failure?” Qurrah asked once his eyes could no longer perceive the elf’s faint outline.
“Immediately,” Velixar whispered. “All he sees, I see. All he hears, I hear. His thoughts, dreams, and nightmares are available to me, hidden behind locked doors to which I now hold the key.”
Again, Qurrah lusted for such power and control. Velixar smiled, clearly seeing the desire the half-orc hid behind his eyes.
“One day you will hold such control. For now, be content with what I have to teach you.”
“And that is, master?” A wicked smile grew across Velixar’s face.
“All that I know.”
Qurrah gave a soft laugh and then nodded.
“I believe that shall suffice.”
Harruq did not know why, but the short exchange sent chills running to the pit of his stomach.
T he next morning Harruq met Aurelia as usual. The elf said nothing of what Dieredon told her, instead focusing on teaching the half-orc how to read.
“The dog…cassid the cat.”
“Chased.”
“Oh. The dog chased the cat.”
A page turned.
“The cat…what’s that say?”
“Climbed.”
“Ah. The cat climbed the tree.”
“Good!”
“Stop treating me like that.”
“Like what?”
“A little kid. I know this book is for kiddies, you don’t have to keep reminding me.”
“Awwww, does da liddle widdy biddy half-orcy feel all stoopy-woopy?”
“I’m going to smack you.”
“Just shut up and read.”
“Fine. The dog circled the tree, but could not get the cat. It was too high.”
“Excellent!”
“Aurry…”
“Yes Harruq?”
A pause. Wisdom prevailed.
“The cat was worried. He could not get down.”
“Sounds like a certain half-orc I know.”
“The cat’s in a tree, not vines.”
“Want to change that?”
“You’re going to write in the book?”
“I meant you, not the cat.”
Another pause.
“So the cat waited in the tree as the dog barked. The dog got tired and fell asleep. The cat was happy. He climbed down the tree. Then the cat clawed out the eyes of the doggie and bit his throat.”
“That’s not what it says!”
“Does too!”
“Where?”
“Right…there!”
Thumping footsteps of a heavy person running. Soft footsteps chased after. Then the sound of a great babbling spring, quickly followed by cursing and grumbling.
T he night was hot and miserable when Velixar met the half-orc brothers and told them the news they had long waited to hear.
“Ahrqur was successful, and in ways beyond what I could have hoped for,” he told them, joy dancing in his features. “King Vaelor has long felt inferior to the kings of his past. I have haunted his dreams, and I know his heart. He wishes a war with the elves to prove his worth. Ahrqur gave him his reason and it was beautiful.”
“What is it your slave did?” Qurrah asked.
“In a court full of human nobles, he broke through, slew four of them, and then took the king’s left ear.” Velixar laughed. “He killed five guards before he was slain. Two more died in the fiery consumption of his corpse.”
Qurrah smiled at the image. Harruq’s blood heated at the thought of battle, but the coldness in his stomach refused to succumb.
“Vaelor cannot yet risk war,” Velixar continued. “He must have all the people see him as a peaceful man driven to conflict. History does not favor the warmongers, not among the peasants and scribes. They favor so-called great men, driven to war by horrid acts of others.”
The man in black spat his disdain.
“It is a sad age when conquerors are seen as warmongering butchers and the cowards backed into corners are seen as the true heroes. Ashhur can be blamed for poisoning so many with such rubbish.”
“What will the king do?” asked Harruq, his hands rubbing the hilts of his blades.
“He has already evicted elven blood from his kingdom. Woodhaven, however, still contains hundreds of elves. In his pride, Vaelor will demand them to leave. A messenger is already en route. I have haunted his dreams as well.
