blame, I know it was him that cost you dearly. I do not blame him in protecting my demons, but it was foolish to sacrifice your soldiers and undead instead.”
“We won,” Velixar said. “Every defender died, with no surrender offered, nor accepted. The land of Ker is yours. Nowhere is there a city to stand against us. Now please, leave me be. I have matters I must attend.”
“Yes,” Thulos said, his deep voice booming his disapproval. “You consort with the daughter of the whore, and now you seek to bring back he who stood strongest against you. Bury the swords of your enemy, Velixar. You never know when they might turn against you.”
“My control is complete,” Velixar said, his anger flaring.
Thulos chuckled. “We will press men into service as we travel toward Mordan. Those who refuse will join your ranks of the dead. As for your control…tonight is a night for humility, not pride. Remember that.”
He left, and Velixar was thankful for it.
“He thinks this is for control,” he said to Qurrah’s body. “What arrogance. What single-mindedness. What does it gain me if I lose your soul while conquering this world? I never lie. I swore that to you time and time again. I will not let your entire life equal a lie.”
The moon rose higher, and he felt comforted in its light. Despite his long dead state, he still found the night sky beautiful. It was the time of Karak, a time for escape from the blaring, persistent sun. Peaceful. Calm. Order.
“Rise, Qurrah,” Velixar whispered.
The runes flared. The magic poured out of him, and he felt a pull on his chest. His reservoir of magic drained at a frightening rate. Sparks flared from the stones. A sheen of violet hovered over the body, gradually spreading into the cold flesh. From death to life…how could anyone deny the beauty and majesty of such a nature? Velixar knew that he served the miracle worker, the conqueror of death, not Ashhur.
The culmination of that proof lay before him. Qurrah’s eyes opened, and deep within his irises shone a red glow.
“No,” he said, his voice a cold whisper. He lifted a hand, and it shook. “No!”
“Welcome back,” Velixar said, feeling his lips spread into a smile. “I have missed you, my disciple.”
Qurrah screamed. Not an uncommon reaction, really, though he was still disappointed in how easily his disciple seemed to lose control.
“Enough,” he said. “You are not some frightened peasant or stubborn elf. You are Qurrah, servant of Karak’s dark throne. You should have enough presence to endure the transition from the hereafter to now.”
“What…what have you done to me?” Qurrah asked. He looked at his hands as if they were foreign to him.
“In time, you will understand the new way your senses work,” Velixar said. “Touch and smell will come to you as if from a distant room, though you will hear and see better than when you were alive. As for your…”
Qurrah extended his hand, a spell on his lips. Velixar was too shocked to defend himself. He flew back as the lance of ice pierced his chest. When he landed, the ice shattered, leaving a gaping hole in his robes.
“You will obey!” Velixar roared, every shred of pity leaving him. He poured his will into Qurrah’s undead body, denying it free will. The half-orc struggled, and his body quivered with exertion, but still he went down on one knee with hardly a pause.
“That is better,” Velixar said. He glared at the hole in his chest. That would take time to mend. Thank Karak he didn’t have to breathe…
“Why?” Qurrah asked. Given the commands flooding him, Velixar was impressed by the effort that single word must have taken to say.
“Why did I bring you back?”
The half-orc nodded. Velixar shook his head, again disappointed. Was it no so obvious? Was the world so muddled and gray that only he saw the truth clearly? He knelt before Qurrah and put his hands upon his face.
“Because you are my son,” he said. “You once loved me, for I rescued you from a fate of obscurity and powerlessness to become something greater. Something more. And I will not let you die here, that promise unfulfilled. At my side, Qurrah. That is where you belong. Tessanna, your brother, the elves…all conspired to keep you away. No longer. You are mine.”
Velixar denied the half-orc a chance to respond. He knew in his confusion he would not understand, not yet. But he had made magnificent progress on the paladin, and that had only been over months. With Qurrah, he would have centuries, if not the rest of eternity.
“I know you wish to see her,” he said, switching the subject. “For a while, your emotions for her might linger. Go to her. Let her see your true form, and see if she will still cling to you.”
Velixar gave his disciple his control back, though he still remained on edge in case he did something rash. Instead Qurrah stood and looked about.
“There,” Velixar said, pointing to a distant fire. “She is there.”
Without a word, Qurrah left for her.
T essanna shivered although the fire was warm. It seemed like the heat could not penetrate her skin, and no matter how close she scooted, nor how badly her skin burned under the heat, she could not feel its warmth seep in. She thought of plunging her bare hand within the embers, to watch her flesh peel away, all to see if ice coated her bones. She cut herself instead, though the comfort was meager. It helped her slip away into apathy, though, and compared to the torment she felt, it was divine.
But then Qurrah approached, and the apathy revealed itself a lie. She felt her love and hatred swirl through her, and lost for words, she sat there as he joined her at her campfire. Long minutes passed as they both stared at the fire. It seemed neither knew what to say. At last Qurrah stood and turned to leave.
“Wait,” she said. He stopped and looked back over his shoulder.
“What?” he asked, his voice so soft, so tentative.
“Are you still who you were?” she asked.
He paused as if to decide, and then nodded.
She flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she buried her face in his bloodstained robe.
“I missed you so much,” she cried. She let her tears bathe his chest. His hands wrapped around her waist. They were cold, but the warmth came from the act itself, the love that guided them. They said nothing as she cried, only held one another. She thought to say sorry, but didn’t know for why or if it even mattered. She wanted to tell him of everything that had happened, of the abuse by Velixar, the rapes by the men, and of how every single night she’d prayed for his touch before she could even think to fall asleep. But instead they held one another.
“What do we do?” she asked once she regained her composure.
“My life is no longer my own,” Qurrah said. “I do only what I am allowed. I’m sorry, Tess. You don’t deserve this.”
“I don’t deserve anything,” she said. “Please, just stay. I don’t care what he’s done to you. Just stay with me. Don’t leave me, not ever again. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
He kissed her forehead, and his lips were like ice. Compared to Velixar, though, he was a comfort, and that night she lay down with his arms around her, and though his breath did not blow against the back of her neck, she still slept without a single nightmare to ruin her rest.
20
B ram rode northwest with his vanguard when they first saw the men flying in the sky.
“What in the gods’ name is that?” asked Ian riding beside him. They had just passed through a gap in the Southron Hills, and before them spread the green plains of Ker.
“Either angels or demons,” said Bram. “Though I see them flying no standard.”
“They are too far away,” said a soldier beside them. “I see only birds.”
“Damn lot of birds,” said Ian. “And I never knew a bird that wore armor that glinted in the sun.”
They pressed on, now on edge and clutching their weapons tight. Their numbers were far from impressive, only five hundred knights and two thousand footmen. The rest of his army waited at Bloodbrick Crossing, guarding
