David Dalglish - A Sliver of Redemption

“We reach Felwood sometime before tomorrow night,” he said. “Thulos tells me a few scouts have spotted our approach, yet no army marches against us. They plan on hiding in their castle, which is perfect for us. The fewer casualties means the greater our army when they join our side.”

“You seem so certain they will turn,” Tessanna said. She tilted her head to one side and watched the blood drip down to her elbow. A curious look on her face, she licked it, then spat, unsatisfied.

“Your old ways are dying,” he said. “Celestia has abandoned you. Your blood, your pain, it no longer satisfies. In time, you will realize your desire for something strong. Something controlled.”

“Assuming Qurrah doesn’t kill me.”

Velixar narrowed his eyes.

“No matter what happens,” he said, “I will treasure such a moment. You should as well.”

She tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed her wrists. From her sitting position, she could do nothing as he forced her to the ground. He towered over her, the stench of death rolling down. Her heart hammered in her chest. His legs forced her knees apart. So cold, he was so cold…

“I will take you,” he whispered. His face was beside hers, but no air moved across her. He did not breathe. There was no life in that being pinning her to the hard ground. “But when I do, it will be everything you could despise. It will be everything your fantasies cannot abide. Most of all, Tessanna…it will be willing. ”

“Never,” she whispered back, tears running down the sides of her face. “I’ll never.”

“There are so many pieces of you,” he said, rubbing his cheek against hers. “And how badly they’ve broken. Where is the animal? Where is the whore? And what of the child? You’re more whole than you’ve ever been, Tessanna. Don’t you realize that? I am what you need. I am the way to your salvation. Not Qurrah, and most certainly not the pathetic god he has turned to in his weakness.”

Tessanna sobbed, thinking of the way Jerico had looked at her after she’d ridden him. All his love and mercy had turned to shame and disgust. She’d done that to him. By the gods, why had she done that to him?

“I hate you,” she said. She felt her personalities swirling, a thousand colors blending together into some shapeless indecipherable smudge. Every single instinct inside her screamed to fall within, to retreat to another-the child or the being of apathy. But she couldn’t. They had left her. Velixar’s grip was tight, and her hands turned numb. She arched her back and screamed, once.

Karak’s most loyal prophet struck her with his fist. The pain shocked her quiet. He glared down at her, an angered master, a ruling king upset with his servant.

“Thulos will make the men of Felwood cower to his name,” he told her. “That is our way. Those who are strong will become weak, and their strength will serve that which they hoped to destroy. Your hatred means nothing. Your revulsions are pathetic. Go sleep in the cold.”

And like a beaten dog, she did as she was told, crying herself to sleep and wishing she were in Qurrah’s arms.

V elixar woke her early that morning, the sun only a golden hint on the hills.

“Get yourself ready,” he said. “I want to be there when Thulos reveals his godhood to the defenders of Felwood.”

She urinated behind a tree, straightened her hair with her fingers, and then returned to him. He gave her nothing to eat. Instead, he nodded to the foal. After she climbed on, he joined her. If alive, the creature would have easily tired within moments, but its blood was still, and its strength dark in origin.

“Do not be scared,” he told her as he wrapped his arms around her waist, so gently as if last night had never happened. “Time is of the essence. Let us see what this steed is capable of.”

The foal galloped and Tessanna clutched its dead mane, every part of her trying to ignore the cold feel of Velixar’s touch. The foal galloped at a startling pace, the wind blowing through their hair. The ride was brutal, nothing absorbing the shocks of the occasional uneven step. A miserable hour passed. Tessanna felt certain the foal would fall to pieces after a day or two of such riding, but all they needed was a few more hours. At the summit of a hill, she looked down into a valley filled with fog that appeared to creep out from the forest at its far edge. The war demons massed in the center of the fog, marching instead of flying. Tucked against the forest, its walls weaving through the trees, was Felwood Castle.

“They have rigged every tree to collapse,” Velixar said as the foal slowed. “The ivy on the walls hides a thousand razors, deadly sharp. I once had a troop of orcs attempt to climb them. They bled out before reaching the top.”

“Sad for them,” she said, her voice an emotionless droll.

They rode into the demons’ camp, then dismounted. After Tessanna leapt off its back, the foal collapsed. A wave of Velixar’s hand and his magic left it nothing more than a long-decaying corpse.

“Come,” he said, taking Tessanna’s hand. “Let us find Thulos.”

She fantasized plunging her hand into a fire to burn away his touch as she followed him.

Thulos sat on his throne, the fog swirling about him, hiding the feet of the chair and making it seem like he was floating. His armor shone even in the dim light, immaculately polished. He nodded to Velixar as he approached.

“I was hoping I would not have to wait for your arrival,” he said. He tilted his head back, as if suddenly revolted. “Your relationship with that woman is baffling, prophet.”

Tessanna felt her cheeks flush at being spoken of as if she were not there. It made her feel insignificant, invisible.

“One that should be of no interest to you,” Velixar said, letting go of her hand.

“The girl is a daughter of the whore,” Thulos said, looking to the castle. “She is powerless now. We would all be safer with her dead.”

“Since when did you care for safety? Does conquest not have its risks?”

Thulos chuckled.

“So be it. I need your undead to circle the castle just outside the range of their arrows. Do not have them attack. Their presence is all I need.”

“Fear is a powerful weapon,” Velixar said.

Thulos looked over at him, then shook his head as if disappointed in a child.

“Fear? I will not cow them with fear. I will show them reason. Death, or honor. Serve me in life, or serve me in death. Temptations work better than threats, and it is all the better when they can see what happens should they resist that temptation.”

“I bow to your wisdom,” Velixar said.

“Just do your part, and quickly. I wish to start before the sunrise.”

With a wave of his hand he dismissed them.

Velixar grabbed Tessanna’s wrist and led them toward his undead, which were already marching into position circling the front of the castle. Fires burst to life along the walls, giant cauldrons of oil and pitch. Torches ran to and fro, held by frightened hands. Velixar could smell the fear even from his distance.

“Thulos is a fool,” Tessanna said as she watched. “What could he possibly tempt these people with?”

“You dare call a god a fool?” Velixar asked, surprised.

“I do,” she said. “And I call yours an abomination.”

His punch split the inside of her lip. On her hands and knees, she spat blood and did her best not to cry.

“One more remark,” he said. “One more blasphemy against Karak and I will make you an abomination so horrid men will pale at the very sight of your mutilated corpse.”

She looked up at him, blood dribbling down her chin, and smiled.

“Yes, master,” she said, but there was a wickedness in her tone. Velixar clearly didn’t like it one bit.