occasional shriek. A third time he called out, and still he received no answer.
That whore, he thought, trying not to visualize the damage to his lower half. Hits me like a coward and leaves me for dead. I’ll kill her. I’ll eat her beating heart!
Anger gave him strength to move. He lifted his head, ignoring the cry of protest from the waist down. The pain was so great, his mind could not focus where it came from. His legs felt broken, his thighs throbbed as if stabbed, and his feet were all but numb. Where she struck him, however, was beyond pain.
“Melhed, what’d she do to you?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows. He could see his friend lying there, rolling back and forth as he sobbed. The half-orc waited, gathering strength for the agony he knew to come. Taking a deep breath, he lifted to a crouch. The movement was salt on an open wound. Agony assaulted his mind. Stubbornness alone kept his legs moving. He roared, throwing away rational thought and pushing upward, slowly, horrifically, until he stood screaming at the top of his lungs.
When his mind was back under control, he inspected his injured self. It looked as if he had wet himself, except with blood instead of urine. He sensed, in a way, that was exactly what had happened.
“You’ll pay,” he muttered, taking one small, painful step toward Melhed. Dead bodies littered the forest floor. His friends, his pride, and even his manhood, were now reduced to a single ally sobbing incoherently in the leaves. He often dealt in retribution, but never before had he felt hatred as stark and naked as when he took another step. His stomach churned as he felt a bit more blood slide down his leg, warm and fresh.
“Long and brutal,” he said. “Very long, and very brutal.”
As he neared Melhed, he knew something was wrong. His skin was pale, his arms and legs bound, and blood covered his mouth. His sobbing turned to a strange sucking sound, one that turned Karnryk’s already weak stomach.
“It’s me, Karn,” he said, hoping against hope. “Look at me. I said look at me!”
The sucking sound grew louder, louder, and then Melhed began choking. Karnryk watched, his entire heart and soul numbed. The wiry man gasped and rolled to his side, gagging and retching silently. After thirty seconds of this, he managed to spit out something wet and red. It was a large portion of Melhed’s tongue.
“I’m sorry, Mel,” the half-orc said, kneeling beside the man, who gasped in air. He took a throwing dagger from his belt, gripped it in his fist, and said goodbye to his friend. Down went the dagger, through his eye and into the shattered remnants of what had been a mind. Karnryk screamed out his rage. Another reason for vengeance.
He started heading south, step by agonizing step. If he reached the end of the forest, Veldaren would only be a mile or so east. The distance, while not far, felt like a thousand leagues to Karnryk. The first few hours he took childlike steps, using a ricocheting path from tree to tree to give him support. Eventually he collapsed against a sturdy trunk and slept.
When he awoke, stars filled the sky. He took to his feet, with no greater ease than the first time. The hours crawled by, broken only by brief moments of sleep or unconsciousness. His heart cried out for him to fall, to succumb to the pain, hunger, weakness, thirst, but mostly the pain. His desire for vengeance was stronger than all of them. He pushed on.
It was well into midday before he reached the city gates. He said only one word to the gate guards before he fell.
“Healer.”
S uch horrible taste,” Tessanna said, frowning at the ornate furniture designed to look worth far more than the craftsmanship warranted. Her grimace grew when she saw the curtains, the worst shade of orange she had ever seen. Without a word, she yanked them down and tossed them to the floor.
“There are many houses nearby,” Qurrah said, glancing out a tiny window. “Each one a potential for a prying eye.”
“Why would you fear prying eyes?” the girl asked, sneering at him. “Because you drove the former owner insane and left him for dead in the forest, screaming like a mad little puppy?”
The half-orc frowned.
“There is that, as well. Any screams shall be heard, possibly by many. We cannot live here.”
Tessanna crossed the room, giving him a flirty look.
“I’m sure some screams can be heard from inside without causing too much alarm,” she said. “What is it that you plan on doing in here?”
“Just casting a few spells,” Qurrah said. “Nothing to concern yourself about.”
“Nothing you do could concern me,” said Tessanna, curling her arms around his neck and looking at him with the wild eyes of an animal. The half-orc pulled her down onto the couch, locking her in a violent kiss.
Later, as they lay silent in each other’s arms, Tessanna whispered into her lover’s ear.
“There is a home where there are no neighbors. No one for miles.”
“Where?” Qurrah asked, tracing a finger from her belly button to her chin.
“In the King’s Forest. Not too far from the tower.”
The half-orc sat up on the cushion and looked down at her.
“You speak of your home as a child.”
“Few know it is there,” she said, her voice shy. “Any we bring will be miles from help. The screaming will not bother anyone. I can cut myself again, too. There is a stream nearby. I used to watch the blood drip into the water. I miss it.”
“You ask me to leave my brother,” Qurrah said, staring at the wall.
“He can come if he wishes.”
“No. Not for this.”
Tessanna sat up and leaned against the opposite side of the couch. All sense of warmth fled from her.
“You fear he will not agree.”
“I fear he will overreact, nothing more,” the half-orc said. “Besides, I could not separate him now.”
“From who?”
“From her.”
Tessanna nodded, her eyes cold and lifeless. “The elf.”
“Yes. The elf. He is happy with her. I would give anything for him, so now I must give him this. We’ve never been separate, not since we were seven.”
She bit her lip and huddled against the cushion.
“You’re doing this for me, aren’t you?”
Qurrah brought his eyes from the wall to her. He nodded. “Yes. I think I am.”
Tessanna just nodded back.
“Our home will not be far. If you wish to see him, you can. We will find men and bring them there. There are ways. I know how. Do you wish to take me again?”
The half-orc looked at her thin, pale body, curled into a tight ball of arms and legs.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do.”
He pulled her over to him, and again they made cold, determined love.
Y ou can’t leave,” Harruq said, blocking Qurrah’s way to the door. “You just got here. Pay is good, beds are warm, and you’ve seen the food!”
“This is something I must do,” Qurrah said, his arms crossed. At his feet were all his belongings in the world; a few spare coins, the spellbook and scrolls from the priests of Karak, some bed sheets, and his enchanted whip, all packed in one large rucksack.
“Why? What must you do? And why the abyss is she going?”
Tessanna cowered behind the necromancer, currently in one of her shy, fearful moods. Qurrah saw her so, and his heart was instantly angry.
“She is going because I wish her to go,” he said. “We do not belong here. Our magic, our ways, are limited by these walls. Freely we entered, and now freely we leave. Move aside.”
Harruq shook his head, shoving his arms harder against the doorframe so that his knuckles turned white. “No. No. And, um, NO!”
“Harruq!” Qurrah shouted, loud enough to send pain spiking down his throat. “Listen to me. We are brothers, and long you have looked out for me, but I do not need your guardianship. Not anymore. You are a fine warrior, and I am proud of you. Now let me go. Please.”
