“Why do I care?”
Qurrah stood, and the whip uncoiled, its tip slapping the ground. Tessanna stared at him, showing no hint of fear.
“He is my brother,” Qurrah said. “If she suffers, then he suffers, and I will do whatever I can to stop it. Now answer me!”
Tessanna stood, anger swirling behind her eyes. She drew closer, ignoring his threatening glare. Her arms lunged out, grabbing each of his wrists. She shoved him against a wall and forced her lips to his. For one agonizing second, they shared the same breath, and all time became a frozen river. Then the thaw as she pulled back her lips and giggled.
“I think I can, Qurrah. Do you want me to? Because I will. I’ll do what you want.”
Qurrah nodded, holding in a gasp for air. His heart thundered in his chest, and he wished it to stop.
“Come with me to the Eschaton tower. Help me, and I might find you a home.”
“I don’t want a home,” she said, letting her hair fall before her eyes as she batted them shyly.
“What is it you want?” he asked.
“You.”
She laughed. Qurrah felt a stirring throughout his body. He did his best to ignore it. He offered his hand, and she accepted it with a smile.
“Follow me,” he said.
Y ou weren’t at practice this morning,” Haern said when he found Harruq hunched over on a couch.
“It’d be dumb of me to practice without a healer ready,” the half-orc countered. “Besides, my nose is already broken. Nothing left for you to do until it gets fixed.”
The assassin took a seat opposite him, handing him a mug of ale.
“There’s plenty more for me to break. I will make up for it tomorrow. Here, this will help with the pain.”
Harruq took a few gulps, set the cup on his lap, and stared into the liquid.
“She’s dying, isn’t she?” he asked. Haern drank from his own cup, thought for a moment, and then nodded.
“Yes. Delysia delayed the poison, but did not cure it. I know much of poisons, and Aurelia seems unable to combat the one destroying her. She will waste away before our eyes.”
Harruq nodded. He took another drink. “I hope you’re wrong, more than I have ever hoped for anything in my life.”
Haern patted the half-orc’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tarlak won’t let her die. We know people who can help her, but someone else has complicated matters.”
The door cracked open, and both glanced to the entrance. Their reactions were of confusion as Qurrah walked in, a young woman at his side. She looked at them with her deep black eyes, the sight of her raising the hairs on their necks.
“We must see Aurelia,” Qurrah said. “Now.”
“Who’s the girl?” Haern asked, rising from the table. “I will let no stranger near Delysia or Aurelia in their states.”
“I’m Tessanna,” she said, her voice so quiet that both struggled to hear. “I want to help.”
Harruq stood, raising an eyebrow. Qurrah nodded back, and his look was all the convincing Harruq needed.
“Let them go. We’ll follow. If she’s dying, we have nothing to lose.”
Haern let his cloaks fall forward, and his hands rest on the hilts of his blades. “Very well. Tessanna, follow me.”
He led them up the stairs and to Aurelia.
T arlak was kneeling by his sister’s bed when they arrived. He glanced up, his face hiding any surprise upon seeing Tessanna.
“A visitor to our tower?” he asked, standing. “I was not informed. I would have swept first.”
“She is here to help,” Qurrah said. He placed his hands on Tessanna’s shoulders and whispered into her ear. She glanced back, her eyes afraid. Qurrah merely nodded and gestured to Aurelia.
“Very well,” she said. She approached the bed, all eyes upon her.
“What is her name?” Tessanna asked.
“Aurelia Thyne,” Haern whispered.
Tessanna nodded. She knelt, curling her slender fingers around Aurelia’s wrist. Her head lowered, and long black hair fell across the bed. Silence filled the room as she meditated there.
“Who is she?” Harruq whispered to his brother.
“No different than us,” Qurrah whispered back. “Her life, her childhood, rivals that of our own. But her power…”
He stopped, for light had begun to fill the dimly lit room. Tessanna’s lips quivered with healing words that felt foreign to her tongue. The flesh of her hands shone white, gradually growing in power. Her hair floated in the air, as if blown by the softest of winds. She arched her head back, her face full of pain. Harruq shot a glance to Qurrah, but his brother’s look ordered him not to move. Haern drew his blades, but a hand from Tarlak kept him still.
A sound like the shattering of a boulder accompanied the great surge of healing magic into Aurelia’s body. The elf’s chest lurched upward as she cried out in pain. Tears flowed down Tessanna’s face, yet still she kept the magic flowing.
“I can’t cure it,” she cried, the light fading from her hands. “I’m not strong enough!”
“You are,” Qurrah said. “You are, now try!”
A brief flash of anger overwhelmed her shy features, then retreated just as quickly.
“Fine,” Tessanna said, her voice dead. “You want her saved. You want her to live. Then she will.”
The white light darkened to gray. Aurelia gasped for air, seeming awake although her eyes remained shut. A new spell spilled from Tessanna’s lips, whose words of power jolted Tarlak with recognition.
“No, don’t!” he shouted. It was too late. The girl arched her entire body away from Aurelia, only her iron grip keeping her from falling. A scream of pain came from those beautiful lips. The paleness of Aurelia’s skin retreated, pulled away like smoke in the wind. The death seeped into Tessanna, filling her veins. At last, the spell complete, she released her grip and collapsed.
“Tessanna!” Qurrah cried, rushing to her side. Harruq was not far behind, taking Aurelia’s hand and feeling the warmth inside.
“She took the poison into herself,” Tarlak said, staring at Tessanna with a look of both admiration and horror. “Harruq, pick her up. We must get her to the priests, immediately.”
“Why can we take her but not Aurry?” the half-orc asked.
“I have my reasons, now do as I say!” Tarlak shouted. No longer was he the kindly wizard. The leader of the Eschaton stood in that room, and he would accept nothing short of perfect obedience. Harruq knelt down and scooped the thin girl into his arms. Tarlak stepped away from the others and opened a portal into the heart of Veldaren. He stepped inside, followed by the two half-orcs and the dying girl.
T hey exited in front of an ancient stone temple, lined with pillars and carved of rare alabaster stone. Tarlak leapt up the steps, and when a young man dressed in robes moved to stop them, the wizard waved his hand, completely paralyzing him.
“Sorry, young priest, I have no time.” He shoved open the doors, the others following in his wake. Inside was grand and open. Huge columns lined the outer walls, and a painted ceiling of magically strengthened glass depicting the seven lessons loomed above them. Several priests milled about, the symbol of the golden mountain across their chests.
“I seek Calan, high priest of Ashhur,” Tarlak shouted. A few priests turned to him, recognized the yellow robes, and rushed off in obedience. The two half-orcs glanced about, the praise to Ashhur echoing from every piece of stone unnerving their souls. They could not have been more uncomfortable if they had been naked.
A door opened, and out stepped an old man dressed in white, a symbol of the golden mountain hanging from a long silver chain around his neck. Not a single sharp edge existed on his entire face. Such a round, gentle look made it so that when he smiled, it was impossible not to warm one’s heart to him.
“Tarlak Eschaton,” the high priest said, his gentle voice disarming. “I trust there is good reason to interrupt my nap with such rude shouting?” His beady green eyes stared at Tarlak, unflinching.
