David Dalglish - A Sliver of Redemption

“What do you know?” he asked. “This spell is one of the strongest in existence. His soul will be trapped inside his body, and bound to my command. He was swayed by his emotions and unreasonable expectations. He cast blame on me when it belonged to Celestia. But now we will walk side by side for eternity. We will travel through the realms, him and I, master and disciple.”

“Don’t do this,” Tessanna said. She pulled her hand back and shivered. “Don’t condemn him to such a fate.”

“Condemn?” he asked. He felt his exasperation grow. “Are you really so blind? He is condemned now, having turned his back on Karak. Do you think Ashhur’s Eternity is beyond our reach? With Karak freed, we will storm even there, and cast down the great host. Into Karak’s fire he will go, if things go unchanged. I must save him. I must bring him back so he can learn the truth of Order and Justice. Leave me be, harlot. You are just a slave of the whore. Go worship the wilds and the trees and leave the true matters to me.”

She stared at him, her red eyes dripping tears, her lips quivering. He could almost feel her hatred rolling toward him.

“Whatever you hope from me,” she said, “you will never get it. And whatever you seek from him, you will not find it. You play with bones, Velixar, and you know only shadows.”

When she was gone, Velixar sat on his knees and went over the words to the spell. He’d used a variant of the spell on an elf such a long time ago, and Qurrah had been there to witness the display of power and control. The bitter memory stung. Never could he have guessed then that he’d be using that same spell on his most beloved disciple. This was his moment of triumph, damn it all! The world was theirs! Why must he suffer over such a wayward son?

An hour crawled as he prepared. It must be perfect. He must have Qurrah back exactly as he was, or the entire act would mean nothing. Cries came from the bridge, but they were muted and tentative. Thulos had returned, and every soldier there feared his reaction. All but Velixar. He could not care less. Let the god be furious. He’d done his best, and been foiled only by his own demon he left in charge.

Thulos’s heavy footsteps alerted him to his approach. He felt a wry smile come over his face.

“To think you thought the defenders of Ker would prove poor sport,” Velixar said.

The war god crossed his arms and frowned down at the body.

“What is this?” he asked. “Myann has told me much of the battle, and while he does his best to deflect the blame, I know it was him that cost you dearly. I do not blame him in protecting my demons, but it was foolish to sacrifice your soldiers and undead instead.”

“We won,” Velixar said. “Every defender died, with no surrender offered, nor accepted. The land of Ker is yours. Nowhere is there a city to stand against us. Now please, leave me be. I have matters I must attend.”

“Yes,” Thulos said, his deep voice booming his disapproval. “You consort with the daughter of the whore, and now you seek to bring back he who stood strongest against you. Bury the swords of your enemy, Velixar. You never know when they might turn against you.”

“My control is complete,” Velixar said, his anger flaring.

Thulos chuckled. “We will press men into service as we travel toward Mordan. Those who refuse will join your ranks of the dead. As for your control…tonight is a night for humility, not pride. Remember that.”

He left, and Velixar was thankful for it.

“He thinks this is for control,” he said to Qurrah’s body. “What arrogance. What single-mindedness. What does it gain me if I lose your soul while conquering this world? I never lie. I swore that to you time and time again. I will not let your entire life equal a lie.”

The moon rose higher, and he felt comforted in its light. Despite his long dead state, he still found the night sky beautiful. It was the time of Karak, a time for escape from the blaring, persistent sun. Peaceful. Calm. Order.

“Rise, Qurrah,” Velixar whispered.

The runes flared. The magic poured out of him, and he felt a pull on his chest. His reservoir of magic drained at a frightening rate. Sparks flared from the stones. A sheen of violet hovered over the body, gradually spreading into the cold flesh. From death to life…how could anyone deny the beauty and majesty of such a nature? Velixar knew that he served the miracle worker, the conqueror of death, not Ashhur.

The culmination of that proof lay before him. Qurrah’s eyes opened, and deep within his irises shone a red glow.

“No,” he said, his voice a cold whisper. He lifted a hand, and it shook. “No!”

“Welcome back,” Velixar said, feeling his lips spread into a smile. “I have missed you, my disciple.”

Qurrah screamed. Not an uncommon reaction, really, though he was still disappointed in how easily his disciple seemed to lose control.

“Enough,” he said. “You are not some frightened peasant or stubborn elf. You are Qurrah, servant of Karak’s dark throne. You should have enough presence to endure the transition from the hereafter to now.”

“What…what have you done to me?” Qurrah asked. He looked at his hands as if they were foreign to him.

“In time, you will understand the new way your senses work,” Velixar said. “Touch and smell will come to you as if from a distant room, though you will hear and see better than when you were alive. As for your…”

Qurrah extended his hand, a spell on his lips. Velixar was too shocked to defend himself. He flew back as the lance of ice pierced his chest. When he landed, the ice shattered, leaving a gaping hole in his robes.

“You will obey!” Velixar roared, every shred of pity leaving him. He poured his will into Qurrah’s undead body, denying it free will. The half-orc struggled, and his body quivered with exertion, but still he went down on one knee with hardly a pause.

“That is better,” Velixar said. He glared at the hole in his chest. That would take time to mend. Thank Karak he didn’t have to breathe…

“Why?” Qurrah asked. Given the commands flooding him, Velixar was impressed by the effort that single word must have taken to say.

“Why did I bring you back?”

The half-orc nodded. Velixar shook his head, again disappointed. Was it no so obvious? Was the world so muddled and gray that only he saw the truth clearly? He knelt before Qurrah and put his hands upon his face.

“Because you are my son,” he said. “You once loved me, for I rescued you from a fate of obscurity and powerlessness to become something greater. Something more. And I will not let you die here, that promise unfulfilled. At my side, Qurrah. That is where you belong. Tessanna, your brother, the elves…all conspired to keep you away. No longer. You are mine.”

Velixar denied the half-orc a chance to respond. He knew in his confusion he would not understand, not yet. But he had made magnificent progress on the paladin, and that had only been over months. With Qurrah, he would have centuries, if not the rest of eternity.

“I know you wish to see her,” he said, switching the subject. “For a while, your emotions for her might linger. Go to her. Let her see your true form, and see if she will still cling to you.”

Velixar gave his disciple his control back, though he still remained on edge in case he did something rash. Instead Qurrah stood and looked about.

“There,” Velixar said, pointing to a distant fire. “She is there.”

Without a word, Qurrah left for her.

T essanna shivered although the fire was warm. It seemed like the heat could not penetrate her skin, and no matter how close she scooted, nor how badly her skin burned under the heat, she could not feel its warmth seep in. She thought of plunging her bare hand within the embers, to watch her flesh peel away, all to see if ice coated her bones. She cut herself instead, though the comfort was meager. It helped her slip away into apathy, though, and compared to the torment she felt, it was divine.