The Weight of Blood (Half-Orcs Book 1) (4 page)

“Remember the necromancer we witnessed at the siege?” Qurrah asked. “It is him. He has haunted my dreams lately, and today he whispered the name of a place I have already researched for my own purposes. I think we are being guided, though I dare not pretend to know why.”

Harruq shifted,  the dark expression on his brother’s face making him uncomfortable.

“What’s the place?” he asked.

“It is where our mother came from,” Qurrah said. “A town called Woodhaven. Well, two towns really, Celed and Singhelm. They have since grown together and merged. It is an interesting place, Harruq, where elves and men live together, each in their respective parts of the city. Their tolerance of other races is, obviously, a necessity. I have thought to take us there.”

“Why do we need to leave?”

“Your work is almost done,” Qurrah said. “The walls are repaired, and half the men who worked with you have already been cut loose. I, however, have much to learn but cannot do so here because of prying eyes and attentive ears. I need privacy. I need silence.”

“What for?” Harruq asked.

“No,” Qurrah said. “Don’t ask when you full well know the answer.”

At this Harruq nodded. Yes, he did know. Over the past few months, he had killed seven men and carried their bodies to his brother.

“I still have at least a week,” Harruq said. “Give me until then, alright? We could use the money.”

“I have saved much of what you earned,” Qurrah said. “We will be able to eat, not well, but enough to live.”

“If you say so,” Harruq said. “Good luck with your, uh, studies. I have a wall to finish building.”

“Stay safe,” Qurrah said, offering a small wave as his brother trudged north. When he was gone, the smaller half-orc slipped back into the shed, removed a false floorboard, and grasped a small pouch containing various herbs, bones, and knives. Reaching back in again, he took out an object wrapped in sackcloth and soaked in blood. A knife in hand, he opened the pouch and closed his eyes. His mind attuned, he carved into the remains of a man’s heart.

O
n his way back home, the threepence jingling in his hand, Harruq spotted a patrol of guards approaching. He glanced to the right, where the small alley led back to their shed. If he hurried, he might be able to make it before they noticed…

He was halfway down the alley when he heard a voice call out.

“Hey!”

Harruq kept going. He was used to harassment and verbal abuse from the guards. Once out of sight, though, he was usually out of mind. He relied on that as he turned a corner into the small space around their shed. Qurrah, who had been resting on the shallow grass, hurried to his feet at Harruq’s approach.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing, but you might want to hide in there. Quick!”

“I will do no such thing,” Qurrah said.

“I said hey!” shouted the same man. Harruq stepped in front of Qurrah and then turned, staring down a group of five heavily armored guards. Swords and clubs hung from their belts, though a fifth carried a weapon neither of them had ever seen before. It was a wooden stick with a bulbous gem on one end.

“You stop when asked or pay the price,” said one of the guards.

“If he can even understand us,” said another.

“We understand perfectly,” Qurrah said, stepping to one side. “What has my brother done to warrant your attention?”

“We’re on a quest,” said the man wielding the strange weapon. He had a stubbly beard and a hooked nose with a thick scar along the top. “A great quest from the king, you could say. We’re to rid scum from the city, elven scum. You know what I think? I think elves can look like anything. They’re devious little pricks like that, and you two seem rather ugly and devious, don’t you all agree?”

The other guards laughed and shouted in agreement. They had spread out, flanking the half-orcs on all sides. The leader stepped forward and gestured with his weapon.

“You know what this is? This detects elves, and every elf I find I get to politely escort out of the city. Oh, and their possessions, well, obviously they were stolen. That coin you got there, you might as well hand it over before I take it.”

Qurrah glared while Harruq clutched the coins tighter and fought down his anger. He glanced back to the shed, cursing his idiocy for not retrieving his weapons while he had the chance.

“The coin,” demanded a guard to their right. “Hand it over.”

“No,” Harruq said.

The leader rammed his fist into the half-orc’s face. Harruq staggered but held his ground. Blood ran down his face, and he spat some away from his mouth. He waited for another punch, but nothing came. The man was staring in total disbelief at the weapon he held. As he had stepped closer to punch, the gem at the end had shimmered a soft green.

“Of all the dumb luck,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “We got some real elves here!”

They drew their swords. Harruq held an arm defensively in front of Qurrah, his eyes darting in all directions. Slowly, the leader extended the stick, poking it against Harruq’s chest. The soft glow turned into a brilliant flare of emerald.

“Elves,” the man said. “No doubt about it.”

He laughed to the others and then punched Harruq in the gut. As the half-orc doubled over, the guard grabbed his hair and tugged.

“Got to be a disguise,” he said. Another guard used the hilt of his sword to strike Harruq’s back. The blow blasted the air out of his lungs. The leader of the guards tugged all along Harruq’s face, pulling hair and scratching skin.

“I’ll be,” he said. “It is real. No illusion and no disguise. You two cretins have god-damned elf blood in you.”

“You jest,” Qurrah said, hanging back and showing no sign of aggression. The soldiers clearly thought Harruq the more dangerous of the two, and he was more than willing to let them continue thinking that.

“No jest,” the guard said. “You two are leaving this city, now.”

“My things,” Harruq said, his voice coming out as a weak croak.

“I don’t see anything,” said the guard, scooping down and retrieving the scattered coins Harruq had dropped.

“In the shed,” Qurrah said.

“That where you two live?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” the leader said. “Go and get whatever the abyss you can carry.”

Harruq climbed into the shed, throwing Qurrah a worried look before he did. When he came out holding his sheathed swords to his chest, the guards tensed, readying their weapons.

“Drop those right now,” they ordered him. Harruq clutched them tight, and the look on his face was clear. He would fight, and die, before he gave them up. The lead guard, already having their coin as well as the bonus of having found elves in hiding, was willing to let it slide.

“You draw them, even fiddle with them in their sheaths, you die, that clear?” he told the half-orc. Harruq nodded, again saying nothing.

“Calm yourself,” Qurrah whispered to his brother as the two marched in front of the guards toward the main streets.

“Trying,” Harruq whispered back.

They marched at sword point. Onlookers cackled as they passed, figuring the two were thieves or vagrants caught brawling. Their orcish features lent them no kindness, and a few children even threw rocks until the guards shooed them away. The whole while Harruq burned with shame and rage.

They reached the western gate, which remained open during the day. Without ceremony, they were kicked through, both falling to the dirt and scraping their knees.

“Get going,” one said. “See if somewhere else will take your mutt ass.”

It was not just adrenaline that caused Harruq’s hands to shake, but Qurrah put his hand on his wrist and begged him to calm.

“Never forget this shame,” he said. “Let it burn in you. Let it be a reminder of what I have always said. We are better, superior. Never feel guilt at what we do to them, for you see what they would do to us.”

Harruq stood, brushed some dirt from his pants, and then offered Qurrah a hand. Together they trudged west, without food, water, or blankets. The guards watched them go, smirking all the while.

T
hat night Harruq collected a bunch of sticks and twigs, which Qurrah lit with a clap of his hands. The two huddled over the fire, each lost in their thoughts. Harruq broke the silence first.

“So where will we go?” he asked.

“Where else is there?” Qurrah said. “Perhaps we were meant to go to Woodhaven. The journey will not be long, perhaps a week or two at most. There are enough animals about for me to kill, so do not worry about food. As for water, there are many small streams, and we can beg from the occasional farms we pass. We were to leave anyway, now we do so sooner.”

“Sooner?” Harruq said. “We paraded through the city like criminals and were tossed out with swords at our backs. If we were to leave, I wanted to leave on our own terms, not like that.”

He swore a few times, getting progressively more colorful as he went.

“Two minutes alone with that guard,” he muttered. “I’d have him drinking through a brand new hole in his neck.”

“How skilled are you with those?” Qurrah asked, gesturing at the swords in the grass next to Harruq. Even though they lived in such cramped quarters, Qurrah still knew very little of Harruq’s life other than what he did at his request.

“I’ve watched the guards training new men,” Harruq said, drawing a blade and holding it with one hand. “And I’ve been practicing every night after you’re in bed and no one is around to watch and get curious. Near the castle they have these stumps for smacking with your sword. Not sure what for, but it helps them, and it seemed to help me. I snuck over there plenty of times. No one guards a big, beaten log.”

“But you have yet to face men in combat,” Qurrah said. “Do not be overzealous about your skills. Confident, perhaps, but not foolish. Don’t die on me, brother, for I need you more than ever.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harruq said, growing quiet. The subject of Qurrah’s experiments always made him uneasy.

“This time there will be a slight difference,” Qurrah said.

“What’s that?”

The half-orc shook his head.

“Not now. Another time I will explain.”

The two grew quiet, and they stared at the fire as the time passed. At last, when Harruq was sure Qurrah would not bring up the subject, he spoke.

“About the guards,” he said. “You think they’re telling the truth?”

Qurrah glanced up.

“About the elven blood in us?”

“Yeah.”

Qurrah chuckled, but it was mirthless.

“I do, and it does not surprise me as much as it should. I’m not sure who would mate with our mother, but some elf man did. We are smarter than most realize, you know that. Our features are sharper, and we only resemble the orcs that attacked Veldaren. It is a part of us. Unwanted, perhaps, but I shall not cower and hide a part of who I am.”

“Just strange, is all,” Harruq said.

“Life is strange.”

They both lay down to rest, a new life awaiting them in Woodhaven.

3

I
n silence, Harruq Tun stared at the body. Seven, he guessed. No older than seven. He didn’t know the boy’s name or why he had wandered into the forest. The bloodied corpse was sprawled across the knotted roots of a tree, its innards spilled through a massive gash from shoulder to waist. The eyes remained open, their young innocence spoiled by a lingering look of horror.