to life, as absolute as Qurrah’s had been. She felt rage, pure, mindless rage. His blood ran across her fingers, and she thought of her words only hours before. His blood on her hands…and this time it did excite her.
The memory slowed, and she felt Velixar hovered nearby, laughing. Tears ran down her face, but then she felt anger, her own, not the memory’s. He was stopping the remembrance? Why? With her thoughts, she pushed ahead, surprising Velixar by the sudden willingness and acceptance of Qurrah’s torture. She felt her anger return, her clawing at Qurrah continuing, but then his arms tightened about her. He stood still, in total shock. Her thrashing stopped, and she pushed her head against his neck and sobbed. Despite the pain she’d inflicted, he stroked her hair. Still no words. What had they done? What horror had they committed?
Deep down inside her she felt a part of Qurrah connect, the part trapped there with her in the memories. He felt that same ache, that same communal pain. She could almost imagine his arms around her still as the memory twisted and turned a murky gray.
Not yet…
The words came from everywhere. She felt Velixar burn with rage, but now Qurrah forced his memories aside. Linked with Tessanna, they found another shared memory, though she had always thought it secret.
Q urrah stood outside their house, that same night Tessanna had felt Aullienna die. He stood with his arms at his sides, his hood pulled back. His hair blew in a soft breeze. With his head tilted back, he stared up at the stars.
Tessanna crept out of the house, careful not to make a single noise. Like an animal she crawled on all fours, almost wishing she could be a prowling cat, to live a life without complications and love. Closer and closer she came to Qurrah, watching him stand there like a statue. How could he be so heartless? How could he leave her there to weep alone in their bed? She should kill him. She had her dagger, and he was unaware, unprepared.
But then she was close enough to hear. The sound was strange. She almost didn’t understand it, and then when she did, she didn’t believe it. Could he?
Alone and broken, he stared at the stars and wept. Confused and scared, she watched, too cowardly to interrupt a moment that private.
Nothing? she heard the phantom voice of Qurrah ask. Is this nothing? Are these the tears I cried for nothing?
She felt Velixar raging against them. Once master, now he fought for control, lost in the world of Qurrah’s memories. She remembered those tears, and she felt Qurrah’s pain bleeding into her. He’d wept for Aullienna, but not just her. He’d wept for the loss of his brother. He’d wept for the pain he’d caused her. He’d bared his soul to the stars, because he trusted only the stars to understand, to not judge him, and to give him peace.
At last she returned to the house, crawled into the bed, and laid there for hours unable to sleep.
“You can’t steal this from me,” Tessanna whispered, feeling her senses returning. The dream world faded, and then Velixar’s cold fingers left her forehead.
He immediately struck her. Blood splattered from her mouth as her lips cut against her teeth. She fell, but Velixar grabbed her hair and yanked her back to her feet. His hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed. She grabbed his wrist and pulled, but she was nothing to him, nothing without her magic. As she gasped for air, she saw Qurrah standing in the center of the runes, watching.
“Do you think you will prove me wrong?” Velixar asked his former disciple. “Do you think a single weak moment of tears will wash away years of certainty? Enough of these stupid sentimental falsehoods. Is she why you remain terrified of embracing Karak’s perfection? Is she why you stumble? Always remove a thorn, no matter how deep. Those who make you stumble must move or be destroyed.”
Tighter and tighter his hand closed around her neck. Tessanna gasped, and she felt terror creeping up her spine. Was this how she would die? Strangled while Qurrah stood there, forced to watch, bound by Velixar’s will to remain still as she kicked and twisted until she suffocated? Spots floated in her vision, purple embers with red centers. His hand was cold, so cold…
And then it was gone. She landed some distance away, flung as if she were a dirty rag. As she retched, she looked back to see Velixar pressing his forehead against Qurrah’s, his hands wrapped around his neck as if they were lovers.
“I am no fool to your desires,” she heard Velixar whisper, just loud enough for her to overhear. “I feel them much the same. Do not let them control you. Do not let your pathetic mortal notions of morality and conscience decide your actions. It was her hand that took your life.”
He looked back to Tessanna, who glared.
“And it must be you to take her life. When you are ready, Qurrah. When you are ready for Karak’s true embrace, for you to fully understand…do the same to her. Take her life, and if you like, I can help you bring her back. She can join us in perfection, freed from the goddess’s taint.”
Qurrah stood still as a statue, but he had enough control to speak.
“Leave us,” he said.
Velixar smiled.
“Do the right thing,” he whispered, then returned to the camp. Tessanna ignored him, kept her eyes only on her beloved.
“Will he make you?” she asked as he stood there.
“He’s left me the choice,” Qurrah said. “For now.”
“Then will you?”
Qurrah walked over to her, fell to his knees, and then wrapped his arms around her.
“Never,” he whispered. “I never could. Please, Tessanna. Kill me now. While he’s gone, find a stone, a dagger, and tear out my heart. He’ll make me do it soon. I know him. His patience is almost gone, his mind with it. Don’t make me endure that. Please.”
She shook her head.
“So you’d make me kill you instead? Velixar tried that once. I won’t, Qurrah. We’ll find a way. Together, we’ll find a way.”
She nestled against his chest and closed her eyes.
“And if there isn’t?” he asked.
She clutched him tighter.
“Then we’ll make one.”
26
M elorak was executing a sympathizer of Ashhur when Olrim returned.
“Olrim?” he asked, pulling the dagger back and wiping it against his clothes without thinking. He’d been alone with the screams in the dungeon cell when the door opened, and he squinted against the light.
“Forgive me,” the other priest said. “They told me you had strict orders not to be disturbed, but I must speak with you.”
“You’ve returned months before expected,” said Melorak. “I imagine we have much to discuss.”
He gestured to where the bloody prisoner hung upside down from chains. If he was conscious, he didn’t show it. Pieces of his intestines hung down past his head.
“I will be done shortly. Wait for me at the throne.”
He sliced a few more tendons, but his mind was no longer on the task at hand. Olrim had already returned? What possibly could have happened? He’d seen the carefully guarded fear in the priest’s eyes. Whatever he was to hear, he doubted he’d like it. Frustrated, he cut the prisoner’s throat and stepped back from the blood. If only all of Ashhur’s followers could suffer such a fate, he thought. The meager resistance he fought would vanish altogether.
He left the man hanging and exited the cell. Two guards waited, one holding a change of clothes, the other a clean towel and a small basin. Melorak washed his hands and face, changed his robes, and then went to the throne room. Olrim waited as expected, kneeling in prayer at the foot of the ornate throne.
“Such passionate prayers,” Melorak said as he sat down. “I doubt even Karak has the strength to ignore such a plea.”
