bowed low and beamed a smile frightening in its authenticity.
“I am the one who opened the portal,” he said, “and long have I desired such…idiocy. Do you know where you are, minion of the war god?”
The man glanced about, and the confusion in his eyes was like a crack in his armor of confidence. All he saw was a castle, one like thousands he had destroyed before, but the man with the ever-changing face spoke his language and knew of his master.
“I do not know,” the man said. “But when you speak I have understanding. My name is Ulamn, General of the First Legion and servant to the war god. With whom do I speak?”
Velixar again bowed as he introduced himself. “I am Velixar, voice of the lion, and I welcome you to Dezrel, a world you have long sought after.”
“The lion,” Ulamn said. His sword lowered as his mouth hung open. “Do you mean…?”
In answer Velixar drew from underneath his robe a pendant he had held ever since the end of his mortal life. It was shaped like a triangle. In one corner was mountain, another a lion, and in the third, a clenched fist.
“Proof of my claim,” Velixar said as Ulamn shook with rage. “I speak for Karak, and he welcomes you.”
“The cowards fled here then,” Ulamn said, gesturing about the castle with disgust. “Failing in their duty and unwilling to accept the consequences. For what purpose does Karak call upon the Warseekers?”
“Conquest,” Velixar said. “He yearns to fight alongside his brother. But he has been trapped by the goddess of this world. If Thulos can defeat her, Karak will be free to join your side.”
Ulamn sheathed his sword and crossed his arms. “Thulos is not one of mercy or compassion. Karak’s cowardice…”
“Is forgivable,” Velixar insisted. “Thulos may not be one for compassion or mercy, but he is one of honor. Let Karak atone his disgrace by serving. Do you dare tell me your master would refuse such a powerful ally as his own brother?”
Qurrah felt Tessanna tighten her grasp around his shoulders. Her hair tickled the side of his face as she kissed his ear. “When the soldiers come,” she whispered, “who is subordinate to who?”
“I will speak with the war god,” Ulamn said. His amber eyes widened with excitement. “We are always eager for new worlds to conquer.” He bowed, and Velixar bowed back. Without another word, Ulamn turned and vanished back into the portal to his homeworld.
Velixar laughed, long and loud. The sound chilled Qurrah, but not as much as it once did.
“The war demons are coming,” the man in black said. “Let Dezrel fear and the heavens shake with the coming rupture. Karak will be freed!”
“Amen,” Qurrah said, a crooked smile on his face. Tessanna kissed his cheek.
“Amen,” she said. She tossed her hair and giggled. “So many are going to die. We’re bad, Qurrah, bad-bad- bad.”
Qurrah only laughed.
19
T hey came in waves, thirty or so of shambling undead biting with bleeding teeth and clawing with broken fingers. Each wave threatened to break their line, but Harruq held firm as the wall of the dead grew ever larger. Lathaar’s Elholad had faded, and he swung normal steel with exhausted arms. Even Haern’s slender sabers felt like giant clubs to him. The potent magic in Bonebreaker kept Jerico dangerous, with even his mildest of swings smashing bone. Harruq, however, seemed no longer mortal.
Salvation and Condemnation blasted away flesh and sliced off limbs without pause. He no longer felt his arms, but he didn’t need to. He just kept on swinging, the shower of gore proof enough that his numb hands still followed orders. Blood soaked him from head to toe, much of it his, but he didn’t care. Any time his resolve threatened to break, or his exhaustion steal him away into unconsciousness, he heard the words that spurred him on.
For Qurrah! For Qurrah!
They chanted it, and in return he shattered their jaws and took the blasphemous life that enabled them to speak. To Harruq, it was a fair trade. The gap in the wall narrowed further and further, filled with corpses of all shapes and sizes. Harruq kept ordering the others back, until only he stood before a four foot expanse that the undead pressed through. They kept coming, kept trying to drown him in numbers, but his arms never ceased.
Haern wanted to say something, to hear his student speak, but dared not disturb his concentration. Lathaar leaned beside him and whispered amid the slaughter.
“What is he?” he asked.
Haern shook his head. “Just a half-orc,” he replied.
“Ashhur is with him,” Jerico said, hoisting his shield onto his back. “Even more so than with Lathaar and I. His will, his strength…but his body will break.”
Tears filled Harruq’s golden eyes. He didn’t even see his attackers anymore. He just saw his friends, his family, and the face of his brother. He would kill them. He would kill all of them. For Aurelia. For Tarlak. For Brug.
And then the undead changed their chant.
For Aullienna! they shouted. For Aullienna! For Aullienna!
The sound was a horrendous blasphemy, the beautiful name of his daughter flooding the streets through dead throats and lifeless vocal chords. As Harruq cried, his heart filled with pain equal to the pain in his chest, his legs, his head. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. Too tired, too damn tired. Delysia. Brug. Aullienna. Was Aurelia still alive? Tarlak? He fell to his knees, his weapons falling limp beside him. The confidence in which he fought dissolved into emptiness. Deep in his head, he heard Qurrah laughing.
“Harruq!” Haern shouted, seeing his student’s sudden collapse. Lathaar reacted first, slamming his shoulder into Harruq’s side. The two fell to the side of the gap in the wall. Jerico smashed his shield forward, pushing back the undead.
“Harruq, snap out of it,” Haern said, pulling the half-orc’s face up by the hair. But Harruq’s eyes were rolling into his head, and he kept shaking side to side. His lips were moving but nothing came out. Wisps of dark smoke rose from his tongue.
“Damn you, Qurrah,” the assassin whispered. “What game is it you play now?”
H e stood on stars hidden beneath glass. Blue fire rose and fell in a ring around them, and high above floated a small red sun.
“Where am I?” Harruq asked.
Qurrah pulled back his hood. His eyes were a deep red. His skin was ashen. With each word he spoke the blue fire flared higher.
“Where does not matter, dear brother, only why. Forgive me for such a ploy. To use Aullienna’s death as a weapon against you is a cheap dishonor, but I needed you to fall. Your mind has grown stronger. Entering was no easy task.”
“Such a shame,” Harruq said. Seeing the stars below his feet filled him with vertigo, so he stared straight at Qurrah. His eyes reminded him of Velixar, and the chilling thought kept his mind sharp.
“Celestia’s wall has fallen,” Qurrah said. “As we speak, an army of war demons enters the city. There is no limit to their size, Harruq. Hundreds of thousands loyal to Velixar, and to me. We will lay waste to all life.”
“Why?” Harruq asked. “What have you suffered to slaughter so many? What loss have you endured that is greater than my own?”
“We’ve been fools for a long time,” Qurrah said. The blue fire soared to the crimson sun, a wall reaching millions of miles high. The red in his eyes deepened. “Your daughter died because of Velixar. He led Aullienna into the forest and planted the seed that eventually drowned her. Your hatred of me, your vengeance…none of it is just.”
Harruq felt as if a knife had shredded his insides and then stuck firmly into his heart. His head swirled, much as the stars did below.
“I loved your daughter,” Qurrah continued. “As did Tessanna. Our recklessness caused her death.”
