The Cost of Betrayal (55 page)

Delysia ignored her, whispering another prayer for a healing spell.

“You’ll make it worse!” Aullienna shouted, her voice shrill. “Worse, worse, you’ll make it worse!”

Delysia shoved her hand forward, the blue-white light pouring out. Aullienna shrieked. She slapped, she kicked, and she dove to the ground, curling into a tiny ball. There she whimpered like an injured dog.

“Whatever it is, I can’t cure it,” Delysia said to the terrified parents. “We need to take her to Calan. If anyone can save her, he can.”

“I’ll open us another port-”

She stopped, taking up her staff and preparing to strike. A shadow crawled up the wall. It remained flat against the mossy stone until widening into a perfect visage of Qurrah Tun. Harruq drew his swords, but Aurelia reached out and pushed them down.

“Just a shadow image,” she said, eyeing the spell. “What is it you come to tell us, wretch?”

“I seek a trade,” Qurrah said. His eyes looked distant and unfocused. “Lathaar knows of a tome I desire, one freed by his defeat of the demon, Darakken. Have him bring this to me and I will hand over the cure for your daughter.”

“You bastard,” Harruq said. “How could you? How?”

“Harruq?” the image asked, glancing toward the half-orc’s general direction. “I mean her no harm. Things will become sane soon, I promise. Everything will return to how it was…how it should be.”

The image faded, even as Harruq cursed his name. The three stood silently while Aullienna whimpered.

“To Calan?” Aurelia asked. The other two nodded. She glanced at her daughter and offered a weak smile. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said, casting another sleep spell. The whimpering faded. Harruq took her in his arms, his heart aching with pain and anger. A new portal ripped open. They took her to Calan.

Q
urrah opened his eyes, the message given. He steadied himself against the wall, furious at his own weakness.

“I should not show you such compassion,” he said. “You have grown far too weak.”

They were still inside Veldaren, cowering like rats in a wretched slum. Tessanna remained at his side. She huddled in the rain, looking wet and miserable. He remembered the chaos she had sown and felt his anger rise.

“Why did you come?” he said. “You were to remain behind!”

“I didn’t want them to find you,” she explained. “I had to make sure your pet kept them busy. You had to succeed. You had to.”

Qurrah slumped against the building.

“How many did you hurt?” he asked. “How many did you kill?” She turned away, her chin tucked down. Her hair hid her face. “Aullienna was to grant us the tome, Tessanna! Now you’ve hurt them, nearly killed them! What if they seek vengeance? What if they fear you more than they desire the girl to live?”

“I wanted to help,” the girl shrieked, nearly choking with sobs. “Please, you wouldn’t let me help, but I want to help! I want to see her one more time!”

The half-orc turned and wrapped his arms around her. He felt her crying into his chest, and his anger broke.

“All is well,” he said. “We have not killed any dear to them. They will forgive you, and me. I just need the spellbook. With it, all will be made right.”

Tessanna sniffled. “And if they don’t give it to us?”

“They will. I know my brother. He would do anything for those he loves.”

The girl was not sure if he meant himself or the girl. Perhaps it didn’t matter.

“I want to go home,” she said.

“As do I. Night and rain will be ending soon. Let us go.”

The two slunk off to the western wall, crossing to the other side through a door of shadow. Once again, they retreated to their sanctuary within the King’s Forest.

27

W
ake the high priest,” Harruq said to the young priest that answered his vicious knockings on the temple doors. The boy paused in indecision. He looked no older than twelve, the lowest of the low in the temple hierarchy. Well, the half-orc had a way with dealing with the lowly.

“I said wake him,” Harruq screamed. “My daughter is dying! And if you keep standing here telling me he can’t be woken, I will rip the door off and beat you on the head with it.”

“I’ll go get him,” the boy said, flinging the temple doors wide. “Please, just…I’ll bring him here. Wait for him, if you please.”

“It would please me fine,” Harruq said, shoving his way in, “if you show me to his room. I don’t have time for this.”

The boy glanced at the two girls, his face brightening as he recognized Delysia.

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.”

“This is important,” the priestess said, doing her best to calm him. “Take us to Calan. I am sure he will understand.”

The boy glanced at the half-orc, paled, and then gestured for them to follow. He led them through the entrance, wincing at the water they dripped across the carpets. They veered away from the main altar room, approaching a large oaken door. The boy politely knocked twice. Harruq followed it up with several booming fists of his own.

“That’s how you knock to wake someone up,” he said. “Now get out of here.”

The young priest glanced to Delysia, who gave him an assuring nod. He fled, hoping he had done the right thing. After no commotion from inside, Harruq smashed his fist against the wood a few more times.

“Give an old man time to rise from his bed,” came the answering call from within. Harruq stepped back, trying to calm himself. His daughter would be fine. Calan was a powerful priest, at least according to Delysia. Such a man could heal his daughter. Any mortal poison should be within the abilities of such a healer.

At least, he hoped.

The door cracked open, and a haggard, wild-haired Calan opened the door.

“Yes, children?” he asked. Harruq grunted and looked down at his daughter.

“She’s been poisoned,” he said. “We need you to cure her, now.”

“Demands are unnecessary,” the man said, brushing his hand across Aullienna’s forehead. The half-orc caught a frown, so quick it was as if Calan tried to hide it. His stomach sank. “Bring her inside,” Calan said. “Place her on my bed so I may take a look.”

He stepped aside so the three could enter. The room was a cramped study filled with tomes, expertly bound and illustrated in archaic lettering. Harruq gently placed his daughter on the bed, his hands lingering on hers. Calan slid between them and knelt. He touched the girl’s forehead, closed his eyes in prayer, and began.

For a long while, the three waited, Harruq and Aurelia seeking comfort in each other’s arms. Delysia stayed out of the way, her arms crossed, her teeth chattering. Finally, the prayers ended, without any action taken on Calan’s part.

“Where’s the spell?” Harruq asked. Aurelia tried to shush him but he pushed away her hand. “Don’t get up, heal her! Where’s the light, the chanting?”

“I can’t,” Calan said. The ache was evident in his voice, but Harruq pressed on.

“Bullshit, you can, now get on your damn knees and heal her!”

“Harruq,” Aurelia shouted.

“She has no poison,” Calan said, overpowering her shout with his simple words. “No poison, no curse, no hex, and no spell.”

“Then what is wrong with her?” Aurelia asked. “She acted terrified to see me, and other times, she cried like a wild animal.”

“I have seen it only once,” the high priest said, his left arm searching behind him for his desk to lean upon. When he found it, he slumped back, his face exhausted. “Only once, but I know it well.”

“What is it,” Harruq asked.

“The girl you brought to me,” Calan said. “Tessanna. Their minds are now similar. And just like I cannot heal her, I cannot heal your daughter.”

The words pierced them worse than any arrow could.

“But Qurrah said there’s a cure,” Harruq whispered. “He said he had a cure.”

“Then he lied to you,” the high priest said. “There is no cure. I do not know how, but her mind has been reshaped. A curse or a hex merely binds and forces a change. A poison is evil in her blood. But this…” He sighed and collapsed into his old rickety chair. “This is beyond me. Beyond anyone.”

“What are we to do,” Aurelia asked. She felt her husband’s arms wrap around her and she clung tightly to him.

“Pray,” he said. “Watch her. Hope that in time, she will gain a semblance of her old self. This might be temporary, but I say this only out of hope, not out of reason or wisdom. She is still your daughter, broken mind or not. There will be times she remembers you, and times she loves you. It is your task to love her even when she does not.”

“I can’t believe this,” Harruq said.

“You will in time, my son,” Calan said. “It is not the end. Your daughter is alive. Hold to hope.”

“Hope,” he said. He scooped his daughter into his arms, smiling down at her sleeping face. He didn’t know what to think, what to do. He could feel others watching him, and he wanted to appear strong, stronger than the nightmare he was trapped in. Instead, he felt tears run down his face as he spoke in honest anguish.

“At least she’s normal when she’s sleeping,” he said.

They returned to the tower.

T
hey found everyone gathered in the main floor. Haern was propped on pillows beside the fire. Lying on blankets next to him was Brug. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to slumber, a decided improvement over the comatose stare he had possessed earlier. Tarlak sat next to them, chin on his knuckles and lost in thought. Lathaar did his best to comfort the three, bringing drinks, food, and assuring words. When the others arrived, he didn’t let any rise from their places.

“Moving is a bad idea,” Lathaar warned, crossing his arms. Most of his platemail was gone, but even without it he was an imposing figure. None had the heart to argue with him. Harruq walked through the front door, still carrying Aullienna. He moved like a man drained of life. Aurelia followed, her expression similar. Delysia hurried past, wanting to explain the situation before the two parents had to, but she did not make it in time.

“What happened?” Tarlak asked, sitting up.

“They…” Harruq found a lump in his throat, and no words would come. Aurelia stroked his cheek, looked them in the eye, and said the bare truth.