Qurrah continued. To him, he had read only seven lines, but to Melhed, nearly a lifetime seemed to have passed. His eyes grew distant, his mouth slackened, but still he listened, deep in concentration. When Qurrah reached the end of the passage, he stopped, feeling dizzy and weak. Melhed’s reaction was far worse.
“Nooo!” he shrieked, writhing against his bonds. “Noooo! Speak! Speak!”
Qurrah did not know, but to Melhed, the silence was more than deafening. His entire mind had ridden the magical words like a man caught in a stream. With the end of the water, though, he found passage upstream impossible.
Tessanna arrived as he pulled the wax from his ears.
“It looks as if he yearns for something,” she said, staring at Melhed’s fanatical eyes.
“I do not know what,” Qurrah admitted. “But this is nothing like you. He has no control. His entire mind is shattered.”
The girl nodded, laughing at the way the man flopped around.
“Are you going to leave him here?” she asked.
“There are more than two-hundred passages I must test. He, and the passage he represents, is incorrect. I have no use for him.”
“You poor baby,” Tessanna cooed, kneeling down beside the shrieking man. She put a hand across his head, holding him steady. She put the rest of her weight on his chest. She kissed him, plunging her tongue deep down his throat. She purred as the stink of madness filled her nostrils. Before she ended her kiss, she grabbed his tongue in her teeth and bit down. The tender flesh tore, and the man’s screams down her throat were waves of pleasure. The taste of blood filled her, and she reveled in pure, sexual delight. She stood, flashing Qurrah a smile.
“He will choke soon,” she told the stunned half-orc. “That, or he will swallow his own tongue. Want to stay and watch?”
“No,” Qurrah said, holding in his shudder.
“Aww,” she said, her lower lip pouting. She put her dress back on, flipped her hair over one shoulder, and then slowly licked the blood from her lips.
“No fun,” she told him. “No fun at all.”
12
I hope your brother and that girl of his return soon,” Tarlak said, pacing back and forth in the main floor of the tower. “If Dieredon decides to grab Aurelia and run, things could get nasty.”
“Qurrah will show if he wants, not much else we can do,” Harruq said.
“I could scry for his location,” Aurelia said, sitting on the stairs, her staff on her lap. “But I’d rather save my strength for more important things, like making sure you all stay alive.”
“Your concern for our safety is touching,” the wizard said. “Especially since we’re doing this for you.”
“Oh, please. You’d hate not seeing my cute butt again, and you know it.”
Tarlak shrugged. “So?”
“You all are idiots,” Brug mumbled, munching on a thick chicken leg smeared with sauce. “He comes in, Aurelia wiggles her ass, and then he leaves, everyone happy. Since when are things gonna get crazy?”
Aurelia winked at him. “It’s me. Things tend to go that way when I’m around.”
“I’ll agree to that,” Harruq said.
“Just try to keep the damage to a minimum,” Delysia said, coming down the stairs in her spotless white robes. “I’m still a little weak, so if you can do with some bandages, then you will.”
The door to the tower swung open, revealing Haern, his face hidden by his hood. “Dieredon circles above,” he whispered.
“Fun time,” Harruq said, drawing his swords.
“Put those away,” Aurelia ordered, glaring at the dark blades. “Wait until you absolutely must.”
The half-orc frowned but obeyed. Tarlak slapped his back before taking command.
“Look sharp and smart, everybody. You’re Eschatons. You have a reputation to uphold here, mainly mine. Don’t blow it.”
“Oh yes, great and wise leader,” Brug said, dropping his chicken and grabbing his punch daggers. “Your speech of inspiration reveals a silver tongue, indeed.”
“Shut up, shorty.”
The two were still bickering when they exited the tower.
D ieredon remained high in the air as he looped around the tower, his bow still slung across his back. There was no reason to expect trouble, but he kept it loose just in case. With a couple soft commands, he landed his winged horse, Sonowin, a safe distance away.
“Stay safe,” he whispered, patting her side. “Things get interesting, take off. Understand?” The white horse snorted, showing her opinion of fleeing.
“Fine,” Dieredon laughed. “Then trample whoever you wish.”
He slapped her rump before approaching the tower.
An interesting crowd awaited him. A yellow-robed wizard stood at the front, beaming at the elf. Beside him was a priestess of Ashhur, her hair the same shade of red as the wizard’s. To the side lurked a short warrior, his beard covered with red sauce. A man garbed in cloaks guarded the other flank. The subtle placement of the man’s feet and his sheer intensity in watching Dieredon’s every move identified him as the Watcher, rumored to live at the Eschaton tower. Dieredon marked him as the primary threat. Behind them, he saw the bounty he had come to collect, Aurelia Thyne. Standing next to her…
He halted, the grip on his bow tightening.
“Hail Dieredon, Scoutmaster of the Quellan elves,” the wizard said. “I am Tarlak Eschaton, leader of the Eschaton mercenaries. I welcome you to my tower.”
“You have puzzled us all, Lady Thyne,” Dieredon said in elvish, ignoring the wizard. “You train with a murderer, flee with him from battle, and now accompany this wretch into the city of the humans?”
“And who would this murderer be?” Tarlak asked in fluent elvish. The scoutmaster glanced over, his opinion of the man rising.
“Harruq Tun, traitor to the city of Woodhaven.”
The half-orc heard his name. His hands tightened on the hilts of his blades. Things were not going smoothly. He didn’t need to understand elvish to understand that.
“Murderer or not, he is none of your concern,” Tarlak said, glancing at the half-orc. “No bounty is upon his head, at least, none I am aware of.”
“Answer my question, Lady Thyne,” Dieredon asked, switching to the human tongue. “Why did you betray us? He killed elves, Aurelia. How do you stay by his side?”
Aurelia slipped to the front of the group, ignoring Tarlak’s attempts to hold her back.
“He is a good man,” she said, staring down Dieredon. “The one who ordered him is dead. He is free of his oath. Besides, the actions he committed were in battle. We all killed men that day.”
“I know his puppet master is dead. I killed him myself. Come with me, Aurelia. You will be tried for treason in Quellassar for aiding the escape of a murderer.”
“Nonsense,” Aurelia said. “Even if he was a traitor to Woodhaven, the town does not fall under elven rule. I am staying. I ask you, as a friend, to rescind this pointless bounty.”
Dieredon glanced about the mercenaries. “That half-orc is a murderer,” he said to them, daring each to meet his gaze. “But he didn’t just kill elves. He killed children. You have invited the Forest Butcher into your home.” He glared at Harruq when he spoke, nearly spitting out the words.
“You don’t know that!” Aurelia insisted.
“Enough of this,” Harruq said, drawing his blades. He shoved past Tarlak, pulled Aurelia back, and stood between her and the scoutmaster. “She’s not going with you, elf, and that’s final. So hop on your flying horsie and get out of here, and call off this dumb bounty after you do.”
The bow was off his back before any could move. Blades shot out the front, top and bottom as a cold expression fell over Dieredon’s face.
