David Dalglish - The Death of Promises

“Stand,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “No longer should you bow to me. In my absence you have grown much stronger than you would have at my side.”

“I was a coward,” Qurrah said. “My weakness caused your death.”

“I did not lie,” the man in black said. “I said I would not die, and I remained true to my word. And you survived, Qurrah, cowardice or not. If you had died, however bravely, then all I have fought for would have been lost.”

The half-orc shrugged his shoulders, not fully believing the logic but accepting the release from guilt nonetheless. He felt so young and foolish then, not sure of what to say or do before the ageless man. Thankfully, Velixar ended his confusion by pointing to Tessanna, who stood quiet with her hands clasped in front of her waist.

“This beautiful girl behind you,” he said. “She is Tessanna, correct?”

“She is,” Qurrah said, “though I ask how you know her name.”

“Even the gods know her name,” Velixar said, stepping past the half-orc to offer his hand to her. Tessanna stayed where she was, seemingly struck paralyzed by her nervousness. Velixar was not offended. He took another step and offered his hand again, as if approaching a shy animal. The girl kept her head low, her hair hiding her face. From that black curtain she peered out, unsure and embarrassed.

“Tessanna,” Velixar said. “Have you taken my pupil to be your lover?”

“I have,” she said, finally reaching out and taking his hand. It was cold and dry, but she was not disturbed. “And I have taken his heart and soul. He’s mine now, all mine. Are you angry at me?”

Velixar laughed. “Do you know who I am?” he asked her.

“You’re the lion’s mouth,” she said. “And Qurrah’s to be your teeth.”

Again he laughed. “Krieger,” he said. “Come introduce yourself.”

The man stepped forward and bowed on one outstretched leg.

“I am Krieger, dark paladin of the Stronghold. I have come to see the daughter of balance and Velixar’s chosen apprentice.”

“And so you have,” Qurrah said. “Are we what you expected?”

“I expected a champion and a goddess. I see an orc in the prophet’s clothing and a skinny woman too shy to say her own name.”

Velixar narrowed his eyes and watched. He had known Krieger since he was a child, heralded as a prodigy within the Stronghold. But Qurrah was his pupil, and his chosen. He would see how he reacted.

Qurrah reached out with his free hand, his face slowly darkening.

“You’ve been wounded,” he said. “And I am no orc.”

Krieger felt the blood on his back growing hot with energy. In one blinding fast motion he drew his sword and placed it an inch from Qurrah’s throat. The black flame blistered his skin, but Qurrah did not falter.

“You are a gray-skinned mongrel,” Krieger said. “Velixar’s pupil or not, you’re still a child compared to me. You have no faith in Karak. Your lacking is a stink I can smell from here.”

“I have faith in nothing,” Qurrah said. He clenched his fist. The blood on Krieger’s back burst outward. He screamed in anger and swung his sword. Tessanna moved between them, her bare hand catching the blade. Her skin was uncut by the edge, her flesh not burned by the fire. The dark paladin stared in wonder as the girl laughed.

“Bad paladin,” she said. “No murder for you today. And you’re on fire.”

She waved her hand. The blood on his back erupted into flames that swirled about his entire body. He fell to the dirt and rolled to extinguish the fire. Another wave of Tessanna’s hand and the fire vanished. The burns were mild on his body, though he coughed and gagged from the smoke and heat that had seared into his lungs. Velixar clapped, his vile laugh booming throughout the countryside.

“I’ve met many like you,” he said to her. “But never one as amusing. Come, both of you have much to hear.” He turned to Krieger and smirked. “I assumed you would react as such. You judge too harshly with your eyes. These two will usher in our greatest victory. Alert the Stronghold and the priests in Veldaren. The great purge will soon be upon us.”

Krieger stood and glared at Qurrah.

“I will tell them,” he said as he touched the jewel on his gauntlet to summon Demonwail. “But I do this out of my faith in you, Velixar. Nothing else.”

“Karak wills it,” Velixar assured him. “Now ride.”

The dark paladin mounted his horse and then rode northwest. Velixar did not watch him go, seemingly fascinated with Tessanna.

“You lied to me,” Qurrah said once Krieger was gone. He pointed to the tome. “Everything you told me about the gods was a lie.”

“I have not lied,” Velixar said, his face turning rigid as stone. “I do many things, Qurrah Tun, but I do not lie. You heard what you needed to hear. You have read much of what I held secret. I believe you ready now. Tell me, though…where is your brother?”

The half-orc sighed and pulled his hood lower about his face.

“That,” he said, “is a long story.”

They walked aimlessly among the hills as Qurrah talked. Velixar listened intently as Qurrah detailed the happenings after the man in black’s ‘death’. He told him of joining the Eschaton and of meeting Tessanna. His story continued on to Harruq’s wedding to Aurelia. He spoke of the gradual change that had overcome his brother, feeling shame in his heart. When he reached Xelrak’s part he glanced at Velixar, his anger rising.

“Karak used him to turn my brother against me,” Qurrah said. “He tore my life asunder to achieve some twisted desire.”

He expected Velixar to be angry at his words. Instead the man looked at him and spoke as calm as ever.

“Karak used him to show you that your brother was already against you,” Velixar said. “The conflict was inevitable; he just drew it to a head before you felt yourself ready. Karak did not make your brother react as he did. It is a shame to lose such strength, but we shall persevere.”

Qurrah chewed on his lower lip as he thought about Velixar’s words. It made sense, in a way. The man in black could see this and decided to further solidify his belief.

“Tell me,” he said. “All that anger you felt, was it truly at Karak, or was it at your brother whom you loved and cared for? Would you rather hate Karak than your brother?”

“Yes,” he said, taking Tessanna’s hand into his own as they walked. “Yes, I would.”

“Then give Karak a chance to prove his loyalty. We must travel to the Vile Wedge. I will explain in time, but that is our destination.”

“But what is the reason?” Qurrah dared ask. “Why the conflict? What is the quest that you hide so tightly?”

Velixar chuckled.

“Come evening I will tell you,” he said. “These are things that the daylight must never hear.”

“Will you tell me something,” Tessanna said, speaking for the first time since they had begun their travel. “Will you tell me what it is I am?”

Velixar thought a moment and then nodded.

“When the night comes, and you know what I desire, then I will reveal what you are. You both deserve to know.”

Qurrah wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the truth about his lover, but he would not deny her that right. They traveled in quiet until the sun dipped below the horizon. Qurrah was not asked to continue his story, and for that he was glad. He did not want to tell of his niece, and how at the whim of Tessanna he had broken her mind so they might obtain Darakken’s spellbook in exchange for a cure.

At Velixar’s command they built a fire and gathered around to hear what the man in black had to say.

“What you have read is true,” Velixar said as the last glimpse of sunlight faded. “Karak and Ashhur did come here fleeing Thulos. The war god is a powerful deity, and he consumed his home planet in a bloody conflict that lasted ages. He now goes from world to world, seeking nothing more than glorious war. He cannot come to Dezrel, though. Celestia has protected it with all her strength. It is why she now sleeps, her power drained in protecting us from those that traverse the realms.”