The Weight of Blood (Half-Orcs Book 1) (23 page)

He did not sleep well that night. It would be a long while before he did.

T
he mood in Woodhaven grew somber as dark rumors spread. First came word that troops were on their way to enforce an edict evicting all elves from the city. The more this rumor spread, the more elves seemed to arrive. Elven men and women with camouflage and great longbows patrolled the city. Even more lingered in taverns and the homes of kin. Many humans left for the homes of family and friends, wanting no part of the coming conflict, while others spent hours whispering with the elf men in the bars. The tension grew. A group of men, not daring to admit where their pay came from, built sturdy palisades between the two halves of town. Everyone knew why but none spoke of it, at least outside of a whisper.

Two weeks after Harruq and Qurrah had slaughtered the messenger from Veldaren, the burning lights of an army encampment filled the fields north of Woodhaven. Soldiers of Neldar had arrived.

A
ntonil Copernus was quiet as he gazed at the town. The wind teased his long blond hair, never letting it rest as he stood. The moonlight cast an eerie glow on his gold-tinted armor, which was carefully polished. Behind him, the tents of his soldiers, numbering more than six hundred, lay scattered about in loose formation. In the silence, an elf walked up beside him, his keen eyes taking in the torches that lit the city.

“The city is quiet,” the elf said. “They await battle.”

“Let us hope it does not come to that, Dieredon. Perhaps they will accept the king’s orders for now.”

The elf shook his head.

“You know they will not.”

Antonil glanced at the elf, who was painted in camouflage and still wore his wicked bow slung across his back. He sighed.

“You’re right. I do know.”

Silence followed. The two continued staring, each wishing to speak their mind but unable to summon the courage.

“You are a wise man,” Dieredon said, breaking the moment. “You know who is in the right in this conflict, as do I.”

“Yes, we both do,” Antonil agreed. He glanced to the elf, his face asking the question he could not voice.

“No, I will not fight at their side,” Dieredon answered. “Never could I raise my bladed bow against you. However, I cannot fight against my brethren. I will let fate decide tomorrow, without my involvement.”

Antonil clasped the man on the shoulder. “Thank you. If there was a way I could stop this, I would.”

“Then stop it.”

“You know I can’t.”

“You can! Defy the king’s orders. Stop the bloodshed that his fear and paranoia are about to unleash.”

“An elf came, killed several nobles, and took the king’s ear. Then his cousin is slain bearing a message to this town, his head left at the gate of our city. Paranoia it might be, but it is justified.”

Antonil quieted. Dieredon watched him, amazed just how young the man could still look in the moonlight. He was a year beyond forty, yet he commanded the entire Neldaren army. Publicly, he handled the weight wonderfully, but when prying eyes were gone, his all too-human fear and doubt showed. When the man spoke again, his voice trembled.

“I will not break my oaths. His Majesty asked I enforce his edict, and so I shall.”

Dieredon nodded, the sparkle in his eyes fading.

“I had hoped otherwise, but follow your oaths and your heart as you must.”

The elf whistled. From the night sky came the sound of soft wing beats. Then a white, winged horse swooped down, landing in front of Dieredon.

“Come, Sonowin,” the elf said to his cherished companion. “Let us leave this place while it is still in peace.”

The beautiful creature neighed in agreement. Dieredon mounted Sonowin, needing no reins or saddle. Antonil saluted the elf just before his mount leapt into flight.

“Stay safe, friend,” he said.

“You as well, friend.”

Before the elf took to the sky, however, he paused.

“Antonil…something more is at work here. Be wary. I will not take sides in this conflict, and neither shall the Quellan elves, but if I find who caused this war, I will kill him. It is the least I can do.”

A great beat of white wings and then the elf was in the air. Antonil watched him fly far south, watched until he was a tiny white dot among a blanket of stars. Before he stopped watching, however, he saw more than fifty similar white dots line the horizon. The guard captain smiled, somehow heartened by the sight.

“Let us hope for miracles,” he whispered to the night. “And let us hope that at tomorrow’s end all my troops are still alive.”

He stared at the stars for a long while before joining his troops in slumber.

H
arruq and Qurrah waited anxiously at their door. They were fully armed and ready. The half-orc’s sister swords were sharpened and gleaming. Wrapped around his arm, Qurrah's whip writhed hungrily. Their eyes rarely blinked, but as hour after hour passed and no blanket of shadow came to them, their patience wore thin.

“The human army is right outside the town,” Harruq grumbled. “We can’t wait until tomorrow night.”

“Patience, brother,” Qurrah said. “Just…patience.”

Another hour, and still no shadow. Harruq stepped back inside and plopped down. The other half-orc remained at the door, his eyes not leaving the gray outside.

“He’s not sending for us,” Harruq said.

“You are correct,” said Velixar’s voice, startling both of them. They turned to see their master emerge from the shadows of their home, his red eyes gleaming.

“How did you get in here?” the warrior asked.

“Listen to me,” Velixar said, ignoring the question. “I have little time. The elves have erected barricades near their homes. Surely you have seen them. Slip past their defenses and wait. When the battle comes, slaughter the elves from behind. You must weaken them enough so that Vaelor’s army has a chance at victory.”

“We will not fail,” Qurrah promised. “Where will we meet you?”

“Listen for where the screams are at their worst,” Velixar said as his shadow began to fade. “There shall I be.”

A pale hand reached inside his robes and pulled out five glass vials. Qurrah knelt and accepted the gifts.

“The vials contain powerful healing elixirs. If either of you are injured tomorrow, drink from them and resume the slaughter anew.”

“Thank you master,” Harruq said, accepting three from his brother before kneeling as well.

“We will await you in the chaos,” Qurrah said.

Then the man was gone, vanishing into the shadows of the room. The two glanced at each other. Harruq shrugged.

“That was easy. Bed time?”

“Sleep if you must,” Qurrah said. “I will join you in a bit.”

Harruq removed his armor, lay down on the bed of straw, and slept. The necromancer stepped outside his home, walked to the side, and stared at the flickering lights in the distance. Campfires and torches. An army, the same that had removed him and his brother from their home, slept so close. Every one of them contemplated their death.

Qurrah closed his eyes and inhaled the cold night air. Yes, the tension was delectable. The quiet moments before battle were a rare thing that so very few were lucky enough to experience. Fear, worry, hope, prayer, regret, and sorrow all floated to the stars.

The half-orc let his attuned mind drink it all in. Beautiful, he thought. Absolutely beautiful.

T
he next morning Harruq did not put on his armor or prepare his blades.

“I have to see Aurelia,” he told his brother, who nodded in understanding.

“I will wait for you,” Qurrah said. “Return before the battle starts.”

“I will,” Harruq said. Then he was gone, rushing down the streets of Woodhaven toward the calm forest that nestled about it.

“A
urry, are you there?” he shouted. He had hoped the elf would be waiting for him, but as he neared their usual clearing there was no sign of her. His heart skipped, and he feared she had already gone off to prepare for battle.

“Aurelia, come on out now,” he shouted again. His eyes searched the forest.

“I’m here,” Aurelia said. Her voice was quiet, subdued. Harruq turned and tried to smile.

“There you are. Are you doing alright?”

The elf shrugged. Her hands hugged her sides, her walnut eyes filled with worry.

“The elves are going to fight today, Harruq. I’m sure you’ve heard why.”

“Are you going to join them?” he asked.

The elf nodded.

“They are my family. This is my home. I cannot abandon them.”

Harruq’s heart skipped, and the words of his brother echoed in his head. He had to make her understand.

“Aurry, I’m asking you, please don’t fight. You aren’t needed. The elves will win, right? Right?”

Aurelia shrugged. “We’re outnumbered four to one. We might win, but we’ll still suffer many deaths. If I am needed, I will fight.”

“No,” Harruq said, running up and grabbing her arms. “No, you must understand, you can’t fight. You can’t!”

“Why?” she asked as tears formed in her eyes.

“I can’t lose you, Aurelia. Please don’t fight. For me, will you not?”

It seemed all the forest paused, listening for the answer.

“Harruq, I love you. But I also love my home. I love my brethren.”