David Dalglish - The Cost of Betrayal

Haern sheathed his swords. “Of course,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Let me know when you want them dead.”

“Qurrah, release him, he intends us no harm,” Aurelia said.

“He means to order us around,” Qurrah said. “I do not appreciate that. Besides, if you go, we go, and I happen to like this city.”

“Touching,” Brug grumbled, his knuckles white as they gripped his punch daggers. “But you’re a fool thinking you got yourself a bargaining chip. I’ll gut any who cause him harm.”

Delysia slowly approached, standing at Brug’s side with her arms crossed.

“I do not like stalemates,” Qurrah said, his eyes jumping from one to the other. “So I propose that you four pretend you never saw us, and no one will be the wiser.”

“Bad idea,” Tarlak replied, wincing slightly, half-expecting fire to engulf his neck. None did, so he continued. “We let you go, and someone finds out, or even worse, you go off and kill someone, our heads would find themselves a nice new spike for a home. Personally, my head likes my neck, so we need a solution that addresses that particular worry.”

“Don’t sound like there is one,” Harruq said, drawing his swords. “Because we’re not leaving.”

The cloaked man drifted around so fluidly that Qurrah did not realize he had moved until he was almost gone.

“Order him where I can see him,” Qurrah said. “I need no assassins at my back.”

“Well, that is what you have, my friend,” Tarlak replied. “And quite frankly, I can’t order him to do anything. You’re the one with the fiery whip, after all.”

“Qurrah, I’m not liking this,” Harruq said, shifting attention back and forth from the short warrior and the cloaked man.

“Nice to know,” his brother said.

“I believe I have a solution,” Delysia said. All eyes turned to her. “Let them join the Eschaton.”

Harruq, Qurrah, and Aurelia all glanced about in confusion at this, but this hardly matched the confusion of their counterparts.

“Join us?” Brug roared. “By Ashhur, I’ll join ‘em in a grave before I join ‘em in Eschaton!”

“May I ask what the Eschaton is?” Aurelia said.

“The Eschaton Mercenaries,” Tarlak answered. “Named after my sister and I. The four of us in front of you would be the Eschaton. We do a few jobs, kill a few people, and get paid outrageous sums for it.”

“They are skilled,” Haern whispered from behind, startling all three. The sharp end of a saber curled around Qurrah’s neck. “Skilled enough to be trained.”

“How does this solve the problem with my elven blood?” Aurelia asked.

“Vaelor’s edict ordered the Veldaren Guard, and the Eschaton Mercenaries, to remove all elves from his city,” Delysia replied. “It did not order elves to be removed from the Eschaton itself. Our home is not located within Veldaren’s walls.”

“It is a weak argument,” Qurrah said, his eyes locked with Tarlak’s. “And a tough decision to make at the point of a blade.”

“Well I have to decide at the point of a, well, whip. So go ahead. You three seem more than capable. Feel like becoming part of the happy family?”

“More like the black sheep of the family,” Brug grumbled. Delysia swatted him on the head.

“I will trust your judgment, Qurrah,” Aurelia said softly. Qurrah nodded. A flick of his wrist and the whip returned, slithering underneath the arm of his robe. Haern’s sword vanished just as quickly.

“Well,” Tarlak said, rubbing his neck, “glad that is over with. So, I guess I should be the first to welcome you.”

“Honored,” Harruq muttered. He looked about, seeing an angry man storming out of the warehouse, the priestess following him in mid-argument, and no sign of the cloaked one. “Odd mess of a family.”

“Well, we just added two half-orcs and an elf. It seems diversity is now our strong suit. By the way, do you three have names? It helps with the bonding process.”

“I’m Harruq Tun,” the half-orc said. “This here is my brother, Qurrah Tun.”

“And I am Aurelia Thyne,” the elf said, offering a tiny curtsey.

“Wonderful!” Tarlak said. “Follow me. I’ll show you your new home.” He followed Brug and Delysia out the warehouse, not stopping to see if the three followed.

“We really gonna do this?” Harruq asked.

“We have no home, and no lawful standing to be here,” Aurelia said. “Don’t forget, you two have elven blood as well. I see no reason not to give this a try.”

“I can think of plenty,” Qurrah said. He offered none when Aurelia gave him a look.

“Well, off we go then,” Harruq said with a shrug.

T he road leading from the west gate of Neldaren forked north and south less than a hundred yards from the city. The southern road followed the banks of the Kinel river, leading to a multitude of farming villages beyond. While the southern road traveled for hundreds of miles, the north road was far shorter. The King’s forest surrounded all of northern Veldaren, and built against the southwest curve loomed an old sentry tower. Back when orc armies could still cross the bone ditch, the small stone structure housed a powerful scrying device permanently aimed west. Years ago, the magic of the scrying device had failed, the sentry tower was abandoned, and when an enterprising mage in curious yellow robes offered to purchase the structure, King Vaelor had been more than receptive.

“Welcome to your new home,” Tarlak said, gesturing grandly before the stone edifice.

“It’s, well, a little better than our last home,” Harruq said, staring at the tower in surprise. The building rose far above the tops of the trees, looking like a cylindrical piece of stone growing out of the earth. Twin doors barred entrance inside. Windows marked each floor, which Qurrah counted to be more than six.

Tarlak continued talking, clearly proud of his tower.

“It’s a little drafty come the winter months, but a brilliant man designed the heating, and an even more brilliant man, me, decorated the place and made it livable. By the way, can you all share a room?”

Aurelia’s frown was by far the biggest of the three.

“Excuse me, Tarlak, but if you haven’t noticed, I have some important differences from these fine gentlemen here.”

The wizard laughed. “Yes. Two stand out immediately.”

Aurelia glared. “Do you know any polymorph spells, Tarlak?”

“No, why?”

“Because I do. Another comment like that, and you will have to admire my figure through the eyes of a mudskipper.”

For a long moment, the wizard paused, mulling over the concept with a blank stare.

“Moving on!” he said when finished, marching toward the oak doors. Harruq shook his head.

“Odd guy.”

“He would most likely prefer eccentric,” Qurrah said.

“I’ll go with lecherous,” Aurelia chipped in. The doors creaked open with a rustic sound, and then the three followed the wizard in.

B eautiful, isn’t she?” Tarlak said, smiling as he led them through the large bottom floor. Filling nearly half of it was a giant wood fireplace, a myriad of pipes stretching out from the top, entering the higher levels of the tower through snug holes in the ceiling. Still in the early stages of summer, there was no need for a fire yet, but Harruq smiled at the thought of spending his first winter warm and cozy, instead of miserably shivering in some rundown home.

On their left, stone stairs wound upward. On the right, split logs were stacked neatly. Two old but sturdy couches faced the fireplace. Next to the couches, a long table stretched from wall to wall. The couches, the drapes over two windows, and the carpet were all a deep, luxurious red. The contrast with the dark stone was sharp, to say the least. Still, the place had an undeniable, simplistic charm. To Harruq and Qurrah, who had lived in total squalor, the place seemed a castle.