“What Haern said, you think it means what it sounds like?” Brug asked.
“Qurrah and the girl still live,” Tarlak said. “Yeah, I think so.”
Brug gulped down a third of the mug. “That’s terrifying.”
Tarlak laughed.
“I’m being serious here,” Brug insisted. “Anyone who can do that to Haern, and look at him, he’s a crispy critter, anyone who can do that is not someone I want to mess with. You sent him to kill ‘em both, didn’t you? They know that. They have to know that.”
“You fear retaliation?” the wizard asked.
“Course not. Not for myself. They won’t retaliate against us, not in a normal way. They’ll hurt us differently. A deeper way.” Another gulp of the mug. “Always said they was bad news.”
“Never disagreed with you on that,” Tarlak said, snapping his fingers so that a long glass appeared, filled with a sparkling orange drink. He took a sip, ignoring Brug’s disgusted look.
“They are necromancers,” Lathaar said. “At least, the half-orc is. The girl knows many necromantic spells, but she isn’t one in the strictest sense. If they seek to harm any of you, they have the ability. When you sleep, when you walk underneath the stars, it is then they can find you.”
“Sounds like you have experience,” Tarlak said. “Stories I haven’t heard yet?”
“Necromancers and followers of Karak are essentially the same thing,” Lathaar said. “They may believe otherwise, but any follower of Karak is a follower of a death god. And trust me, Tarlak, I’ve fought many followers of Karak.”
“We going after them, or do we wait like sitting ducks?” Brug asked.
“We wait,” the wizard decided. “We have no choice. I’ll let Antonil know we found the Veldaren Reaper. At least the killings will stop. I doubt Harruq will let me hunt down his brother. The two are sad souls, really. I hoped to show them kindness, bring them out of the pits they had sunken into, but…” He sighed. “No good deed goes unpunished, right Lathaar?”
“No good man goes untested,” Lathaar said, rising from the table. “All good deeds have their reward. Never confuse the two.”
“Night, Lathaar.”
“Night, Tarlak, Brug.”
The paladin prayed on one knee by the two wounded, his brown hair falling to hide his face as he whispered in the quiet. Finished, he climbed the stairs to sleep.
“It’s almost daylight,” Tarlak said, turning back to Brug. “Figure we should turn in.”
“Go ahead. I can go a day or two without sleep, no problem.”
“Aye, but you get grumpy. Go on to bed. This night’s been a long one.”
“Bah. If you insist.”
Tarlak waved at the fireplace. The light dimmed, although the heat from it remained strong. The two trudged up the stairs, leaving the three to sleep.
23
Y ou have forsaken me.
“Leave me,” Harruq said. Sweat and blood covered his forehead. Fire raged around him, melting rock and billowing smoke. “I never worshipped you!”
You have forsaken your brother, and you have forsaken me. You turn to Ashhur, who has granted you no power, no wisdom, and no strength. Velixar’s fall is a fleeting moment in time. Will you stand beside him when he comes again?
“No,” he shouted. The wails of a thousand tormented souls overwhelmed his words. “I love my brother.”
You would kill him. You are blind, Harruq Tun. Blind to the path before you. Blind to those who seek to help you. Those who turn against me suffer, half-orc. They suffer greatly.
The tower crumbled to ash. The sky ran with blood, and every star fell. Hordes of the dead marched before him, a single cry on their lips.
“For Qurrah!” they shouted. “For Qurrah! For Qurrah!”
I will hurt you, Harruq Tun. I will ruin all. You betrayed me. Look upon the cost of your betrayal.
The vile voice thundered. The molten earth ran over the dead, burying them. The sky melted, filling the horizon with flame. Only Harruq remained to listen to the cries of his beloved. Aurelia fell into the fire, weeping silently. Tarlak stepped in willingly, tipping his yellow hat as the flesh melted from his bones. Finally, there was Aullienna, who waved at her father.
With a single laugh, she dove in and was consumed.
“Aullienna!” he screamed, horrified as his most precious love disappeared into the raging flow. “Aullienna! Aullienna!” The destruction was complete. Karak’s laughter filled the world, and the chant of the dead changed.
For Order! For Order! For Karak and his Chosen!
The fire rose. It burned his arms, his legs, his waist. It flowed in with every breath, charring all that it meant to be him.
“Aullienna!” he shrieked, lunging up from the ground. His arms flailed about in his blindness, each movement intensifying their aches. “Aullienna, don’t!”
“Harruq!”
Aurelia wrapped her arms around him and held him still.
“Harruq, it was a dream, just a dream.”
He felt her arms and calmed, burying his head into her chest and weeping.
“She was dead,” he sobbed. “All of you were dead. Karak wants you, her, and everyone…”
“We won’t let that happen,” she whispered, stroking his face. “We’ll always be here for her. Always.”
His sobs faded, and his exhaustion overtook him. He lay back down, glad his wife was at his side. He slept, and this time no dreams came to him.
W hat is it, Qurrah?” Tessanna asked. She had been awoken by the screams of her lover. Her kisses had slowly calmed him, chasing away the terror.
“Nothing,” he said, sanity returning to his eyes. “I dreamt of Velixar is all. And my brother.”
“Go back to sleep,” she said. “I was dreaming of dogs eating my heart while worms crawled from my mouth. You whimper like a child.” Qurrah chuckled. Tessanna placed her head across his chest, her long hair draping over him like a blanket. Qurrah opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, unable to shake the horror of the dream. He had been dead, as had his brother. In a demonic haze of smoke and fire, Velixar had mocked him while Karak declared his victory.
“What have we done?” he asked, so softly that Tessanna did not hear. “Have you changed so greatly in the time I was gone?” To him, it had been a few weeks, but to the others, over a year had passed. Perhaps his brother had moved on. Changed. He had a wife and a daughter, after all.
“No,” he said. His brother had not changed. He had merely forgotten. The life they had lived, marching at Velixar’s side, was but a memory to his brother, one long suppressed.
“I will awaken your anger,” he whispered. “I will bring forth the killer you buried. You cannot strike against me, and then deny what we are.”
In his silent fury, he found the comfort to sleep.
H arruq awoke to throbbing pain in both his arms. His left felt weak and clumsy, while the right ached like a dagger was lodged to the hilt inside. His next realization, after the pain in his arms, was that he could see again.
Aurelia was gone. A shuffle to his side brought his attention to Haern.
“What are you doing in my bed?” he asked. The idea that he wasn’t in his bed followed, and he chuckled, glad that the assassin appeared to be asleep. “Never mind then,” he said.
“Did anyone ever tell you your voice is the worst thing to hear in the morning?” Haern mumbled, blinking open a bloodshot eye.
