repeatedly batted aside his brother’s best attack combinations, his sabers invariably touching gray flesh. Harruq’s anger grew, but something was different. He no longer aimed his anger at Haern. He aimed it at himself.
“Very good, brother,” Qurrah said quietly.
He left for Veldaren.
T he moon still shone dim in the red sky when Qurrah arrived at the center of Veldaren. The place was barren but for an early shopkeeper and two women hurrying down the street. Fear rolled off the women in tangible waves. Qurrah closed his eyes and let his mind touch their fear.
“The loss of a brother,” he said, opening his eyes. The women, young and dressed in cheap clothes, were gone. “Such cowardly feelings toward death. You two shame your deceased.”
A thorn pierced his mind. The half-orc reeled backward, smacking his head against hard stone. He was hidden between two buildings. No one should have known he was there. Someone did, though, and someone was curious as to why.
“You want in?” he asked aloud. “Very well. Come to my dark corners.”
He grabbed the thorn and pulled it deep inside. He swarmed it with memories of his childhood, sitting hungry and cold as Master’s experiments snarled, gagged, and shrieked in the cages all about him. He altered the memory, replacing it with his nightmares. The unseen cage doors opened. The creatures bellowed their joy in fearful howls. They would feed, and the feast would be bloody, painful, and eternal.
Qurrah expected this to drive away the intruding mental presence, but instead the image twisted. His unseen nightmare creatures walked into visible light, revealing each one as a large man with belly heavy from a life of drink. Their mouths were sewn shut. The men tore at the thread with their hands. Flesh ripped, and shards of bloody glass spewed from their mouths.
“You killed mommy,” the men said in unison as lungs and intestines followed, each punctured with glass. Qurrah tried to run, but instead his hands moved of their own accord, for he was hungry, so hungry, and in his lap was food. The taste was phenomenal.
“So you’ll be quiet,” the men continued. “You’ll be good, and you can replace mommy. Now shut up. I don’t want to hear crying.”
Qurrah glanced down to see a female arm in his hands, cold and pale. Blood filled his mouth. The thorn seemed to shudder, and from it, infinite sadness and anger poured into his mind. He tried to pull away as rough hands seized his shoulders. The thorn dug deeper, and the half-orc curled into a ball as he felt the hands of the men tear away his clothes. He was powerless. His past, his choices, his sins, it all seeped into that thorn, now grown into a great root sucking out the wretched parts of his soul.
Q urrah stirred in the alley, waking from a sleep he never remembered entering. The city was still peaceful, and the sun remained low above the horizon, so it appeared his slumber had been no longer than several minutes. The only change he could see was that Tessanna now sat upon the edge of the fountain. Her right arm, scarred from the day before, traced the dagger along her left, drawing thin lines of blood across her pale white skin.
“It couldn’t have been you,” he said from within the alley. The girl glanced up and stared straight at him, as if she had heard. Then she laughed. Her smile lit up her face. She looked eighteen, nineteen at the most, and she was beautiful. Beautiful, even as she drew the dagger back down to let the blood flow. Beautiful, even as she watched, mesmerized, at the drops staining the clear water below.
She carved four runes before the guards appeared.
“This is the last time, Tessanna,” he heard one of them say. “We’ve warned you enough. Get off.”
No guard touched her, even though they towered over her small, thin form. Qurrah’s curiosity grew.
Tessanna stood, licked the back of her hand, and then gave one of the guards a flirty smile. When he made no movement, she flicked her wrist, spraying his armor with her blood. Still no guards moved. She waved and blew each one a kiss. She headed south, blood flecked across her lips and face. The guards shook their heads and murmured amongst themselves. One looked to the water, his disapproval visible. When they left, they were edgy, and in foul moods.
“Those images are of a madman,” Qurrah said, remembering the man with his mouth sewn shut. “Or madwoman. Was that your childhood?”
The necromancer had always thought the cruelty and depravity of his early years was unmatched, but it appeared someone else had a tale darker than his own.
He stood, brushed the dust of his robes, and returned to the tower, fresh determination in his heart. He would speak with the girl the following morning. Part of him could not endure the wait. And part of him would gladly wait forever.
Y ou look well,” Aurelia said when Harruq poked his head into their room.
“Better than yesterday?” he asked.
“Yes, but not by much.”
The half-orc laughed, and then collapsed onto the elf’s floor.
“Delysia!” she called, glancing back to where the priestess reclined on a bed reading a book.
“The big boy needs a spell?” she asked, not looking up.
“Or three.” Aurelia cast a levitation spell on the passed out half-orc. He floated into the air, traveled across the two beds, and stopped beside the priestess. She reached up and touched the floating half-orc. White light surrounded her hand. Healing magic flowed out from her. Delysia withdrew her hand, having not once stopped her reading. Aurelia gently lowered Harruq next to her. Seconds later, he stirred.
“Eh? Where, oh, hello Aurry.”
“Hello, Harruq,” she smiled. “Care to stay awhile?”
“Sure thing.”
“Good,” the elf said, backing away and giving an exaggerated wave in front of her nose. “But bathe first, so we may stay together in the same room.”
Harruq groaned. “Where can I do that?”
Aurelia glanced back to Delysia, who looked up from her book with an evil smile.
“Oh this is going to be bad, isn’t it?” he asked as both began shoving him down the stairs.
“You have no idea,” Aurelia laughed.
T hey took him to a tiny stone structure jutting out the eastern side of the tower. Harruq had to duck to get inside. The two girls stayed outside, the smiles on their faces only increasing his worry.
“What is so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Aurelia said. “Now take off your armor and clothes.”
“Excuse me?” His face blushed. “Not sure you two want the whole show, do you?”
“Of course not,” Aurelia said with fake indignation.
“Such a pervert,” Delysia added.
Aurelia reached inside and swung a small, hinged door shut. It was high enough to reach the half-orc’s chest.
“Now get naked,” Aurelia said. “We won’t peek in, we promise. Just slide your armor over the top of the door.”
Harruq mumbled a few choice comments but made sure none were loud enough for Aurelia’s sharp ears. He stripped down and tossed his belongings outside.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Say the word, ‘water’,” Delysia said.
The half-orc shrugged.
“Water.”
Water fell from the ceiling, as if a tiny rainstorm were trapped inside. Harruq jumped, but the water was warm, and the rain, soft. There was no drain, instead the water faded away without ever pooling higher than his toes.
“This isn’t too bad,” he said, shaking his hair back and forth and staring at the ceiling. “Kind of soft, though.”
“Say more,” Delysia ordered.
“More.”
The rain increased in intensity.
“Oh yeah, much better.” Harruq began washing himself under the water.
