Calan is a brilliant man, but the clerics of the Sanctuary have helped me with wisdom unparalleled. I do not wish to offer false hope, but there is a chance they will know of a way to restore your daughter’s mind.”
“And the book?” the half-orc asked.
“It stays,” Lathaar said. “I am sorry.”
“We are grateful,” Aurelia said, taking her husband’s hand in hers and squeezing hard enough to hurt.
“Aye,” Harruq said. “Grateful.”
L athaar decided to leave without sleeping, wanting to cover as many miles as he could before the setting of the sun.
“Your daughter may not have much time if she is to be healed,” he explained. “I do not claim wisdom in the ways of magic, but I would rather not risk more than I already have.”
Before he left, Lathaar pulled Tarlak aside to talk.
“I will find out more about the girl,” he whispered.
“You said that already.”
“No. Tessanna. She too closely resembles Mira. The first time I talked with Cleric Keziel, I felt he kept things from me. This time, I will hear the whole truth.”
“Godspeed,” Tarlak said, hugging his friend.
“Ashhur be with you,” Lathaar said.
“Do you want a portal?” Aurelia asked him before he left.
“Can you send me directly to the Sanctuary?” he asked. The elf frowned and shook her head.
“Too far. Is there anywhere closer?”
The paladin thought, then nodded.
“Send me to Haven,” he said.
“Very well,” Aurelia said. Where the Rigon River ended its divide through Dezrel, it forked, creating a delta filled with rich and fertile land. Amidst this farming paradise was a small town named Haven. A month’s travel away, but still closer than the Sanctuary, which nestled amidst mountains on the far southwest corner of the continent. She ripped open a blue portal, kissed his cheek, and joined the rest in waving goodbye. The paladin kissed his fingers and then waved back. He stepped in. The portal closed behind him.
“Good riddance,” Harruq said, returning to the tower.
“What’s up his butt,” Brug asked, glancing back.
“Just leave him be,” Tarlak said, sighing.
Aurelia’s hand on Brug’s shoulder showed she agreed.
H arruq entered his room as if a stranger. He opened the door slow and quiet. A quick scan showed his daughter in the corner, a soft smile on her face. She was carving something in the dirt with her fingers. Her joy appeared honest, and that burned him all the worse. She seemed so normal he almost walked over, took her in his arms, and bounced her on his knee. But he didn’t.
“Having fun?” he asked, taking a tentative step forward. Aullienna looked up and smiled, overjoyed to see her father. She stood, scattering her markings with the bottom flap of her dress. She ran across the room, laughing. Harruq knelt, tears already in his eyes. Qurrah’s spell had failed, or perhaps merely run its course like a disease. He scooped Aullienna up into the air, smiling although he cried.
“I missed you, daddy,” she said, kissing his nose.
“I missed you too, cutie,” he said back. Her words melted away his doubts. He returned her kiss on the nose, grinning. His first thought was to hold her forever. His second thought was to call for his wife so she could see. The little girl squirmed in his arms, laughing at something she found hysterical.
“You look funny,” she said, swiping at his cheek.
“How’s that?” he said.
“Do it again,” she cried.
“Hun, do what?”
Her face scrunched, and she pulled back in his arms. “Daddy, I don’t like this.”
“Like what, Aully? I’m not doing anything.”
The girl only squirmed harder, pushing back against his chest. “Stop it daddy, stop it!”
She slapped him, once, the thin nails of her fingers cutting into his gray skin. No blood flowed, but the wound was more severe than a stake to his heart. He set her down, ignoring the marks she made across his hands. Her feet did not support her at first, so she clumped to the grass. With a primal cry, she leapt to one wall. Spinning around, she eyed her father with shaking eyes, bird eyes in the face of the serpent. Her kneels curled to her chest. She hid half her face behind them.
“Stop it,” she whispered into the skin of her arms. “Please, daddy, stop it.”
He collapsed, his heart breaking. He wanted to die. Shuddering sobs straight from the stomach ripped from his lips.
“Damn you, Qurrah,” he said. “Damn you.”
Aurelia found him as such: a crying, pitiful sight. Without a word, she knelt beside him, wrapped her arms about his neck, and kissed him. He latched his hands onto her, a drowning man clutching the sides of a boat. He buried his face into her neck, the tomb of her hair about his head the only comfort he could find.
“She was fine,” he managed to say. “When I came up, she…she was fine.”
“Be glad for it,” the elf said, gently stroking the side of his face. The words seemed hollow to her, but they comforted him. Under Aullienna’s watchful eyes, the two rocked in the illusionary grass, beneath a blue sky that was a lie, in a peaceful world that did not exist.
A fter five days, Qurrah decided it was time to receive his answer. He stood behind his home, wincing under the glare of the rising sun. Tessanna sat nearby, running an old brush of her mother’s through her great length of black hair. It had been cut only once since her mother’s death, a clumsy attempt by her father after the first time he raped her. Despite its length, the hair shimmered with a livid energy in the morning light, washed and well cared for. Qurrah found himself mesmerized by the mystic beauty of his lover. A smile dared grace his lips.
I am so lucky to have you, he thought. So very lucky.
She caught his stare and smiled.
“What are you thinking about, dirty boy?”
“Nothing,” he said, turning away. “Nothing at all. Stay silent while I speak with my brother.”
She shrugged and resumed brushing. Whispery words slipped off Qurrah’s tongue, a simple incantation. In the middle of the Eschaton tower, a shadowy imitation of himself rose from the floor. It stared with dead eyes that saw only the most basic shapes and colors.
“Greetings, Harruq. I trust the past few days have been well.”
The abyss has seen happier days. The deep voice rang in his head, coming from nowhere. A second voice spoke, that of the wizard.
It is a shame you aren’t here to enjoy them with us. Come, join our breakfast in person. I’ve got hemlock and poisonberries, special treat just for you.
“You are not witty, wizard, so please do not make me endure any more comments,” Qurrah said, his voice sounding far away. “Have you accepted my request?” He listened for his brother, but instead Tarlak spoke again.
You aren’t getting the book, butcher. You never will. You’ve ruined his daughter for nothing. But I’m sure you feel it justified.
Qurrah’s forehead sloped downward, narrowing his eyes to slits.
“I do not jest, only I have her cure,” he said. “Yet you refuse what I ask?”
I’m sorry brother, he heard Harruq say. You will never get it. I’m sorry for striking at you. You weren’t the Reaper. We know that now. Please, if you are angry, be angry with me. Do not bring my daughter into this. Please. I beg you, as my brother, whatever you wish to do to me, just make her well.
A strange feeling welled up in his chest, constricting and burning at once. To hear his brother say there was no chance for the book, and such an offer…
Qurrah?
He closed his eyes and turned away, scattering the shadow form into nothingness. He stumbled one way, then another, fingers pressed against his forehead.
You will never get it.
