David Dalglish - A Sliver of Redemption

“And what is that?” she asked.

He smiled but did not answer. She accepted his offered hand and followed him out of the camp, beyond the light of the campfires, and to a collection of runes carved into the dirt. Qurrah stood in their center, his head tilted back, his vacant eyes staring at the sky.

“What is going on?” she asked. Velixar pressed his finger to his lips and shushed her.

“He is lost in his memories,” he whispered. “Do not disturb him. I have chosen a very special memory, one I want you to see.”

“I don’t want to see it,” she said, looking away.

“But he is your beloved,” Velixar said, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to look at him. “He is the one you yearned for while you were with me. Should you not know everything about him?”

He pressed his fingers against her forehead. Images poured in, smoothly and expertly taking over her senses one by one. She found herself watching a frozen moment in time, that of a dark alley where the two Tun brothers stood before one another. Pain and anger covered their faces. She hovered between them for a moment, and then plunged into Qurrah. She saw what he saw, felt his emotions course through her. Time resumed.

“I will kill again,” Qurrah yelled. She felt pain in her throat, and a slight trickle of blood. “I will kill children, women, elders, elves, Tarlak, Brug, I’ll kill any I wish, whenever I wish. Aurelia, Aullienna, their lives are nothing to me, nothing to you. Have you grown too blind to see it?”

Aullienna…

The name echoed as time once more slowed. Beside her, a phantom of Karak’s prophet laughed.

“Do you feel his anger?” he asked. “Do you feel his honesty? Nothing to him. Nothing! Children, women, elves, Aurelia…Aullienna…does your name fall on this list? View your beloved as he truly is!”

He yanked her back and out, so that she stared at the brothers. Harruq was in mid-swing, the back of his fist ready to slam into Qurrah’s face. Still the name echoed. Nothing to me. Nothing.

Nothing.

“You clung to him in your darkest despair,” Velixar whispered. “But who is it you cling to? You bed a monster. You romanticize him into an ideal, a perfect master to fulfill your perverted desires. Look at him. Look at him! ”

His face was curled into a sneer. Rage filled his bloodshot eyes. She still felt his emotions perfectly synced with hers. His absolute certainly nearly overwhelmed her. He meant it. Every word. The girl she adored, the one floating face down in the water…nothing?

“There is another memory,” Velixar whispered.

“No,” she said, terrified of what it might be. She wanted out. She wanted back to the now, to bury the past and think of it no more.

The world shifted and changed. She stood in their old home, her lover before her. Qurrah looked stunned and confused. Her hands moved of their own accord, her lips spoke with a mind of their own.

“What is it?” he asked. His arms moved about her, but the reaction was calculated, cold, a placating attempt.

“The girl is dead,” she sobbed, clawing at his chest. “I saw it, she’s dead. You killed her, you killed her!”

She felt herself tear into him. Her fingers passed through cloth and raked his chest. All her old anger roared to life, as absolute as Qurrah’s had been. She felt rage, pure, mindless rage. His blood ran across her fingers, and she thought of her words only hours before. His blood on her hands…and this time it did excite her.

The memory slowed, and she felt Velixar hovered nearby, laughing. Tears ran down her face, but then she felt anger, her own, not the memory’s. He was stopping the remembrance? Why? With her thoughts, she pushed ahead, surprising Velixar by the sudden willingness and acceptance of Qurrah’s torture. She felt her anger return, her clawing at Qurrah continuing, but then his arms tightened about her. He stood still, in total shock. Her thrashing stopped, and she pushed her head against his neck and sobbed. Despite the pain she’d inflicted, he stroked her hair. Still no words. What had they done? What horror had they committed?

Deep down inside her she felt a part of Qurrah connect, the part trapped there with her in the memories. He felt that same ache, that same communal pain. She could almost imagine his arms around her still as the memory twisted and turned a murky gray.

Not yet…

The words came from everywhere. She felt Velixar burn with rage, but now Qurrah forced his memories aside. Linked with Tessanna, they found another shared memory, though she had always thought it secret.

Q urrah stood outside their house, that same night Tessanna had felt Aullienna die. He stood with his arms at his sides, his hood pulled back. His hair blew in a soft breeze. With his head tilted back, he stared up at the stars.

Tessanna crept out of the house, careful not to make a single noise. Like an animal she crawled on all fours, almost wishing she could be a prowling cat, to live a life without complications and love. Closer and closer she came to Qurrah, watching him stand there like a statue. How could he be so heartless? How could he leave her there to weep alone in their bed? She should kill him. She had her dagger, and he was unaware, unprepared.

But then she was close enough to hear. The sound was strange. She almost didn’t understand it, and then when she did, she didn’t believe it. Could he?

Alone and broken, he stared at the stars and wept. Confused and scared, she watched, too cowardly to interrupt a moment that private.

Nothing? she heard the phantom voice of Qurrah ask. Is this nothing? Are these the tears I cried for nothing?

She felt Velixar raging against them. Once master, now he fought for control, lost in the world of Qurrah’s memories. She remembered those tears, and she felt Qurrah’s pain bleeding into her. He’d wept for Aullienna, but not just her. He’d wept for the loss of his brother. He’d wept for the pain he’d caused her. He’d bared his soul to the stars, because he trusted only the stars to understand, to not judge him, and to give him peace.

At last she returned to the house, crawled into the bed, and laid there for hours unable to sleep.

“You can’t steal this from me,” Tessanna whispered, feeling her senses returning. The dream world faded, and then Velixar’s cold fingers left her forehead.

He immediately struck her. Blood splattered from her mouth as her lips cut against her teeth. She fell, but Velixar grabbed her hair and yanked her back to her feet. His hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed. She grabbed his wrist and pulled, but she was nothing to him, nothing without her magic. As she gasped for air, she saw Qurrah standing in the center of the runes, watching.

“Do you think you will prove me wrong?” Velixar asked his former disciple. “Do you think a single weak moment of tears will wash away years of certainty? Enough of these stupid sentimental falsehoods. Is she why you remain terrified of embracing Karak’s perfection? Is she why you stumble? Always remove a thorn, no matter how deep. Those who make you stumble must move or be destroyed.”

Tighter and tighter his hand closed around her neck. Tessanna gasped, and she felt terror creeping up her spine. Was this how she would die? Strangled while Qurrah stood there, forced to watch, bound by Velixar’s will to remain still as she kicked and twisted until she suffocated? Spots floated in her vision, purple embers with red centers. His hand was cold, so cold…

And then it was gone. She landed some distance away, flung as if she were a dirty rag. As she retched, she looked back to see Velixar pressing his forehead against Qurrah’s, his hands wrapped around his neck as if they were lovers.

“I am no fool to your desires,” she heard Velixar whisper, just loud enough for her to overhear. “I feel them much the same. Do not let them control you. Do not let your pathetic mortal notions of morality and conscience decide your actions. It was her hand that took your life.”