“You’re not even ten,” Harruq said as the kid ran away.
He continued down the main road, feeling a little better. He was used to people hating him for his half-orc blood. Hating him for his nationality, that seemed a little bizarre. A meager comfort, however. His heart kept thumping too loud in his chest, and he had to fight the urge to turn and run every other minute. For whatever reason, he was terrified of talking with Bernard. At last he turned right and headed toward the smoldering pile of rubble and ash that had been the temple of Ashhur.
Bernard walked through the debris, shifting charred pieces of wood this way and that. His robes were smeared black and gray, and even his sweaty face was covered with ash.
“Hard work to do alone,” Harruq said, stepping into the rubble. “What are you looking for?”
“We didn’t have much,” Bernard said, holding his back with his hands as he straightened up, wincing at the popping his spine made. “But we had a few precious writings. I hoped they survived, but, as you can see…”
Harruq nodded. The fire had been intense. Hardly a piece of wood remained more than a blackened husk.
“I came to thank you,” Harruq said. Bernard waved him off.
“It was nothing,” the priest said.
“It was your life,” Harruq argued.
“Again,” Bernard said, chuckling at him. “Nothing.”
“How can you say that?” Harruq asked. “How can you offer your life for someone you don’t even know?”
“Harruq, are you blind?” the priest asked.
“I can see just fine,” the half-orc grumbled, feeling patronized.
“Then look around you. You fought and bled protecting thousands of people on their journey here. You offered your life for theirs, as did soldiers, fathers, mothers… Many died, others lived. How is what I did any different?”
Harruq opened his mouth, then shut it. He realized he had no argument that wouldn’t ring false.
“I’m sorry,” Harruq said. “Guess I might be a little blind.”
“Little?” Bernard asked, laughing. “Look around a second time. Tarlak is a good man, and he has assembled good people. They all would offer their life for yours. I suspect they already have.”
Harruq pursed his lips and nodded. In combat, it seemed so simple, so obvious, that each would risk their life for the other, but when the adrenaline faded, and life was quiet…
“You look like you’re struggling with something,” Bernard said. He rubbed sweat from his brow onto his sleeve, smearing more ash across his forehead. “I’ll aid, if you’ll let me.”
“Is it ever wrong to forgive someone?” Harruq finally asked.
Bernard tilted his head and thought for a moment.
“You’ve been hurt, haven’t you?” he asked. “By someone you love. Have you already forgiven them, or still deciding if you should?”
“Already have,” Harruq said. “And it cost us dearly.”
“Then pay the cost,” Bernard said. “It is better than the alternative.”
“And what would that be?”
The priest put his hands on his hips and looked to the side.
“Think about it,” he finally said. “How many times have you been forgiven? By your wife, by Tarlak, by your friends and family? If you don’t forgive others, then why should they forgive you? All or nothing, that’s what Ashhur wants.”
“The only family I have is my brother,” Harruq said. “And he’s not one to forgive.”
“Then compare your life to his,” Bernard argued. “Is he happier? Kinder? A stronger person for it? Or is he weak and fragile, clinging to old wounds that refuse to halt their bleeding?”
Harruq didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. More and more a thought kept resurfacing, growing stronger with each passing day. He felt embarrassed, but he blurted it out.
“Karak is everything I cannot stand,” he said. “But Ashhur seems… would he accept a half-orc? My cursed blood?”
To this Bernard put a hand on Harruq’s shoulder and smiled.
“No matter your curse, your wretchedness, your anger or cowardice or malice, no matter your flaws and sins, he loves you,” Bernard said. “Give him your faith, and you will be rewarded. Deny him your faith, and he will still love you. There is nothing you can do to change that.”
Harruq nodded, his mind struggling to wrap around the words. Too simple, he thought. Far too simple.
“I need to go,” he said.
“Of course,” Bernard said, turning back to the remnants of his temple. Harruq watched him reach into the ash and scatter it about in search of something valuable. When he found nothing, he moved over a few more steps, bent down, and searched again. At that moment, the half-orc felt like the ash.
13
T he ground shook as if giants buried beneath the world were thrashing as they stirred. Above him the sky bled fire, waves of it falling to the horizon. He felt blood on his hands and tasted rot on his tongue. When he looked down and saw the dead child in his arms, chest ripped open by hundreds of squirming black worms, Qurrah allowed the nightmare to wake him.
He sat up and pulled his hood over his head as he looked around. They were surrounded by Thulos’s demons, most sleeping in blankets with their weapons at their sides. A few patrolled the area, giant torches in hand. One passed by, nodding in greeting.
“Why are you awake?” Tessanna asked, startling him. She hadn’t moved, and her eyes were still closed as if she were asleep.
“A dream,” he said. “Where is Velixar?”
Tessanna propped herself up on her elbow, her long hair cascading over her face.
“You know he doesn’t sleep,” she said. “And he certainly doesn’t keep us aware of his doings.”
“Shush then,” Qurrah said, glancing about the camp. “Follow me.”
Together they slipped through the camp, avoiding the patrolling guards and their torchlight. Near their camp stood thousands of undead, all raised from the murdered people of Neldar. They were perfectly still, awaiting Velixar’s orders. Qurrah grabbed Tessanna’s hand and pulled her through the rotting ranks. Several rows in, he stopped and turned to her, feeling safe enough to whisper.
“Mordeina is very close,” Qurrah said. “If Velixar is to regain leadership of Karak’s followers, he needs to do so soon.”
“How do you know it is tonight?” Tessanna asked. “You do this only because of your dream.”
“I don’t care,” the half-orc said. “Preston wants you dead. I feel it time we put his nuisance to an end.”
Tessanna giggled. “We’re going to be naughty tonight, aren’t we?” she asked.
Qurrah smiled at her. “We need to be careful. If things go bad, flee back to Ulamn.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
Qurrah put his hand on her abdomen, where a tight bulge had grown on her slender frame.
“You protect our child’s life then,” he said. “Leave me to die if you must.”
“So romantic,” she said. “Lead on, lover.”
They hurried past the undead, further and further south, to where the rest of the army camped. From behind the rotting body of a gigantic Veldaren soldier, they peered out at the first wave of guards. The tested patrolled the entire camp, holding torches in their bone hands. Their tents were placed in an outer ring, protecting the inner camps. Krieger’s paladins slept further inside, and at the very heart of it all were the priests. Qurrah scratched his chin, pondering the best method to enter.
“This won’t be easy,” he said. “Kill as few as possible. We don’t need the survivors rallying behind another in a desperate bid for vengeance against us and Velixar.”
“No fun,” Tessanna muttered, turning back to the few wandering tested. A wave of her hand and they slumped to the ground, fast asleep. “No challenge either,” she added.
