David Dalglish: A Sliver of Redemption

“Qurrah?” she heard Harruq ask. “Qurrah, what has he done?”

The lump grew.

What have I done, you mean. Oh gods, Qurrah, is this how we all end?

“Don’t speak,” Velixar said to her lover. “Don’t answer. You know what you are, and what you must do. Kill him, Qurrah. Break the last chain that holds you to this mortal delusion of morality and sin.”

“Don’t!” Tessanna shouted. She couldn’t control herself. “Don’t do this!”

Velixar struck her, so hard she thought her jaw might be broken. As she crumpled to the ground, she sobbed in helpless fury. Qurrah approached Harruq, and the burning whip uncoiled from about his arm.

“You don’t deserve this,” Harruq said. “Fight him, brother. This isn’t what you are!”

Through her tears, Tessanna watched Qurrah lash out with his whip. Harruq smacked it aside with his swords, and still he did not attack. He pleaded with his brother, and each word was a knife to her heart. Her fault. All her fault.

Please, she prayed to the goddess. Please, this can’t be. Let me stop it. Tell me how to stop it!

Qurrah flung a bolt of shadow, and this time Harruq had no choice. He lunged to the side, pivoted, and then slammed into her lover. Qurrah rolled with the slam, his hands glowing darkness. When he landed on his back, he hurled seven orbs of shadow, each one pulverizing his brother’s flesh. Harruq screamed at the tremendous pain. Silver electricity arced about his body. When he fell to one knee, Qurrah lashed his arms with the whip, burning through his armor and charring flesh.

Please! Goddess…mother…don’t make me watch this. Don’t leave me like this.

Harruq parried the third lash, then hurled himself at Qurrah. They toppled again, and this time he stabbed deep with his ancient blades. She felt a scream building inside her, but Qurrah showed no sign of pain. He dropped the whip and clutched Harruq’s face with both hands. Red mist swirled about the two of them, and then Harruq flew back, his head striking the tower with a sickening crunch. His swords fell limp from his hands, yet still he looked up. Still breathing. Still pleading.

“This can’t be you,” he said, struggling against the spell so he might lift his arms. “That’s not you, Qurrah. That’s not you.”

She felt the goddess’s eyes upon her. She felt her presence beside her. The power taken from her seemed almost in reach, but something was wrong. Still, despite her pleadings, it wasn’t enough.

What do you want from me? she begged. What is it, mother?

“Kill him, Qurrah,” Velixar said as he stood beside his most beloved disciple. “He has turned against us both, and against the god he swore his life to. Such promises are not to be made in vain. Take back his life. Embrace it. Feel the thrill of the kill. There is no right. There is no wrong. There is order, and he is chaos. End it. End him.”

“No,” Tessanna whispered. She felt magic swirling around her, and her anger grew as she raged against the goddess. Her words went unheard by Velixar and her lover, and she wondered if they went unheard by the goddess, too.

“No, you can’t do this. I won’t allow it. I can stop it, mother. I can stop it! I won’t let this happen. Give it to me. Return my strength! I am your daughter…your daughter…and I demand my birthright. Give me my power, mother! Give me my wings! ”

The demand made, the demand answered. She shrieked as the last power of Celestia poured into her mortal vessel. Ethereal wings spread out her back, scattering black feathers. The pain was immense, as if every part of her body were burning away with cleansing fire. Her hands shook. Her hair swirled in a chaotic wind. And at last Velixar turned to face her.

“No,” she said, and it seemed her words shook the very foundations of the city. “He is yours no longer.”

Velixar was a master at controlling death, honed over centuries and given strength by Karak himself. But she could see the great tendril he held over Qurrah, the control, the denying of his will. And she took it back. Qurrah was hers, and she took him.

She gave him only one command.

“Be free,” she said, every bit of her power given to protect Qurrah from Velixar’s furious control.

And to her joy, he turned from his brother and glared at the man in black.

“I won’t,” he said. “I’m not yours anymore.”

He struck the ice with a fist, shattering it. As Velixar shook with rage, Qurrah helped his brother to his feet and dismissed the curse upon him.

“Go to your wife,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Velixar is mine.”

“Good luck,” Harruq said, retrieving his swords. “And thank you.”

He rushed into the tower. Tessanna watched her lover turn toward his former master, and a shiver ran through her at the look he gave.

“You lack faith,” Velixar said. “You are a fool and a failure. You cannot challenge me.”

“Wrong.”

He unleashed a stream of fire from his palms. Velixar brought up a shield, and as the fire spread to either side, he let his power flare. The fire died, and then he tore a chunk of the ground free and hurled it. Qurrah met it with an invisible force that cracked it in two and shoved the chunks to either side of the tower. The air swirled about his feet, tinged red with power. Lightning tore from his hands, arcing through Velixar. Karak’s prophet screamed in pain, then let that pain feed his magic.

“We’ve done this before!” Velixar cried, hurling an orb of darkness that glimmered with stars and planets and many things Tessanna had no names for. Qurrah summoned his shield, and it did not break. Arms crossed, he shoved the orb back. Velixar stepped aside. The orb continued on, its detonation destroying several homes. As the gold and pearl rained down, Qurrah approached his former master. Velixar flung bolts of shadow, but they would not stop him. He flung meteors swirling with ice, but they did not stop him. Qurrah’s eyes shimmered, and then he cast a spell neither Velixar nor Tessanna knew he could cast.

A single shaft of light shone from his hands, its essence clean and pure. When it flashed over Velixar’s skin, he shrieked in pain, his flesh shriveling like cloth within a fire. His ever-changing visage halted, becoming nothing but dead skin clinging to an ancient skull. He lifted his arms to cast a spell, but Qurrah was there, grabbing his wrists. They wrestled, each incredibly strong. Tessanna felt Velixar’s will fighting against her, desperate to give orders to Qurrah and reassert control. She denied him, even as it made her crumple against the ground and weep from the pain.

“Everything you’ve said,” Qurrah said, his eyes shimmering gold. “Everything was a lie.”

He crushed Velixar’s wrists, broke the bone, and tore the hands free. Dropping them, he clutched Velixar’s throat and let loose all his anger, all his frustration, all the despair and betrayal suffered at his hands.

“This is for Aullienna,” he said as flames burst from every inch of Velixar’s skin. “This is for making us your playthings. Go to your beloved Karak, you wretch, and see how free of the fire you’ll truly be.”

Tessanna felt the prophet’s will no longer press against her. He thrashed and howled, but the fire consumed him, consumed his robes, his bones. When only ash remained, she stood, her wings breaking away in a thousand feathers floating on a strong wind. She ran to Qurrah, flung her arms around him, and buried her face in his chest.

“Oh Qurrah,” she cried. “You’re free! You’re free!”

He clutched her tight, and his body quivered.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and even in his dead state she could hear the emotion threatening to overtake him. “Thank you, Tess. Thank you.”