The Cost of Betrayal (26 page)

When his mind was back under control, he inspected his injured self. It looked as if he had wet himself, except with blood instead of urine. He sensed, in a way, that was exactly what had happened.

“You’ll pay,” he muttered, taking one small, painful step toward Melhed. Dead bodies littered the forest floor. His friends, his pride, and even his manhood, were now reduced to a single ally sobbing incoherently in the leaves. He often dealt in retribution, but never before had he felt hatred as stark and naked as when he took another step. His stomach churned as he felt a bit more blood slide down his leg, warm and fresh.

“Long and brutal,” he said. “Very long, and very brutal.”

As he neared Melhed, he knew something was wrong. His skin was pale, his arms and legs bound, and blood covered his mouth. His sobbing turned to a strange sucking sound, one that turned Karnryk’s already weak stomach.

“It’s me, Karn,” he said, hoping against hope. “Look at me. I said look at me!”

The sucking sound grew louder, louder, and then Melhed began choking. Karnryk watched, his entire heart and soul numbed. The wiry man gasped and rolled to his side, gagging and retching silently. After thirty seconds of this, he managed to spit out something wet and red. It was a large portion of Melhed’s tongue.

“I’m sorry, Mel,” the half-orc said, kneeling beside the man, who gasped in air. He took a throwing dagger from his belt, gripped it in his fist, and said goodbye to his friend. Down went the dagger, through his eye and into the shattered remnants of what had been a mind. Karnryk screamed out his rage. Another reason for vengeance.

He started heading south, step by agonizing step. If he reached the end of the forest, Veldaren would only be a mile or so east. The distance, while not far, felt like a thousand leagues to Karnryk. The first few hours he took childlike steps, using a ricocheting path from tree to tree to give him support. Eventually he collapsed against a sturdy trunk and slept.

When he awoke, stars filled the sky. He took to his feet, with no greater ease than the first time. The hours crawled by, broken only by brief moments of sleep or unconsciousness. His heart cried out for him to fall, to succumb to the pain, hunger, weakness, thirst, but mostly the pain. His desire for vengeance was stronger than all of them. He pushed on.

It was well into midday before he reached the city gates. He said only one word to the gate guards before he fell.

“Healer.”

S
uch horrible taste,” Tessanna said, frowning at the ornate furniture designed to look worth far more than the craftsmanship warranted. Her grimace grew when she saw the curtains, the worst shade of orange she had ever seen. Without a word, she yanked them down and tossed them to the floor.

“There are many houses nearby,” Qurrah said, glancing out a tiny window. “Each one a potential for a prying eye.”

“Why would you fear prying eyes?” the girl asked, sneering at him. “Because you drove the former owner insane and left him for dead in the forest, screaming like a mad little puppy?”

The half-orc frowned.

“There is that, as well. Any screams shall be heard, possibly by many. We cannot live here.”

Tessanna crossed the room, giving him a flirty look.

“I’m sure some screams can be heard from inside without causing too much alarm,” she said. “What is it that
you
plan on doing in here?”

“Just casting a few spells,” Qurrah said. “Nothing to concern yourself about.”

“Nothing you do could concern me,” said Tessanna, curling her arms around his neck and looking at him with the wild eyes of an animal. The half-orc pulled her down onto the couch, locking her in a violent kiss.

Later, as they lay silent in each other’s arms, Tessanna whispered into her lover’s ear.

“There is a home where there are no neighbors. No one for miles.”

“Where?” Qurrah asked, tracing a finger from her belly button to her chin.

“In the King’s Forest. Not too far from the tower.”

The half-orc sat up on the cushion and looked down at her.

“You speak of your home as a child.”

“Few know it is there,” she said, her voice shy. “Any we bring will be miles from help. The screaming will not bother anyone. I can cut myself again, too. There is a stream nearby. I used to watch the blood drip into the water. I miss it.”

“You ask me to leave my brother,” Qurrah said, staring at the wall.

“He can come if he wishes.”

“No. Not for this.”

Tessanna sat up and leaned against the opposite side of the couch. All sense of warmth fled from her.

“You fear he will not agree.”

“I fear he will overreact, nothing more,” the half-orc said. “Besides, I could not separate him now.”

“From who?”

“From her.”

Tessanna nodded, her eyes cold and lifeless. “The elf.”

“Yes. The elf. He is happy with her. I would give anything for him, so now I must give him this. We’ve never been separate, not since we were seven.”

She bit her lip and huddled against the cushion.

“You’re doing this for me, aren’t you?”

Qurrah brought his eyes from the wall to her. He nodded. “Yes. I think I am.”

Tessanna just nodded back.

“Our home will not be far. If you wish to see him, you can. We will find men and bring them there. There are ways. I know how. Do you wish to take me again?”

The half-orc looked at her thin, pale body, curled into a tight ball of arms and legs.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do.”

He pulled her over to him, and again they made cold, determined love.

Y
ou can’t leave,” Harruq said, blocking Qurrah’s way to the door. “You just got here. Pay is good, beds are warm, and you’ve seen the food!”

“This is something I must do,” Qurrah said, his arms crossed. At his feet were all his belongings in the world; a few spare coins, the spellbook and scrolls from the priests of Karak, some bed sheets, and his enchanted whip, all packed in one large rucksack.

“Why? What must you do? And why the abyss is she going?”

Tessanna cowered behind the necromancer, currently in one of her shy, fearful moods. Qurrah saw her so, and his heart was instantly angry.

“She is going because I wish her to go,” he said. “We do not belong here. Our magic, our ways, are limited by these walls. Freely we entered, and now freely we leave. Move aside.”

Harruq shook his head, shoving his arms harder against the doorframe so that his knuckles turned white. “No. No. And, um, NO!”

“Harruq!” Qurrah shouted, loud enough to send pain spiking down his throat. “Listen to me. We are brothers, and long you have looked out for me, but I do not need your guardianship. Not anymore. You are a fine warrior, and I am proud of you. Now let me go. Please.”

Harruq’s eyes danced back and forth from Tessanna to Qurrah, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions of his heart.

“I don’t want you to,” he said at last. “Do you have to? Really have to?”

Qurrah pulled the rucksack over his shoulder. “I must. I will return, as often as I can.”

The half-orc moved aside. Qurrah took up his things, nodded to Tessanna, and then moved for the door.

“Where will you live?” Harruq asked.

“Not far. Please, honor this wish, brother. Do not look for us. I will be fine, I assure you. If I am ever gone longer than two months, you may have the elf scry for our location.”

Nodding, the burly half-orc motioned for the door. Qurrah patted him on the shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, but found no words, only a soft trickle of blood down the back of his throat. He turned and hurried down the stairs, subtly pressing the sides of his hood against his face on the way. Tessanna paused before poor confused Harruq, pitying his turmoil. She was still a stranger to him, and in a few fleeting days, she had come and stolen away his only brother.

“Harruq,” she said, her eyes locked on his toes. “I just…I want to thank you.” She kissed his cheek, blushed, and then fled down the stairs. The half-orc stood there long after they left, hating and loving his brother and his girl with the deep black eyes.

T
arlak waited for them at the bottom, his arms crossed and his foot steadily tapping the floor.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“We are leaving the Eschaton,” Qurrah said. “We have a new home, and wish to move on.”

The wizard nodded, his expression dire. “Good. Then I have just one thing to say to you.” He strode over to Qurrah, reached into his pocket, and then pulled out a small, silver scorpion. It was exquisitely carved and dangled from a chain of gold. He handed it to Qurrah, who held it close to his face and opened his mouth in wonder.

“You will always be an Eschaton, and so I give you a parting gift. It is a token, representing your ties to us. Brug spent many hours working on that one, and I’m not sure what all it does. Tell it to awake.”

Qurrah glanced at the wizard, his confusion apparent. “Awake?”

“Not ask, order it.”

The half-orc shrugged. He held the medallion higher, impressed with the life-like detail and size. The pinchers were sharp, and the tail curled and ready to strike. “Awake,” he told it, his voice firm. At once, color flooded the silver. It crawled about to face its master, snapping its claws repeatedly.

“Many wizards have a familiar,” Tarlak said, smiling at the scorpion. “Brug decided you should have one as well. You won’t have many of the same connections that most mages do, but I do know you won’t end up in a coma for a week if this little guy gets squashed.”

Qurrah brought his hand back and clicked with his tongue. The scorpion crawled onto his shoulder and nestled down into the black cloth.

“It is a fine gift,” the half-orc said. “Far better than I deserve.”

“You saved my sister,” Tarlak said. “It is far less than what you deserve, but take it as an effort to thank you, just the same.”

Qurrah shifted the rucksack to his other shoulder. “We will return occasionally. Make sure my brother is well each time I do.”

“Other than a few bruises and broken bones from Haern, he should be just fine.”

Tarlak bowed, and Qurrah returned it. Tessanna joined his side, stroking the scorpion.