David Dalglish - The Cost of Betrayal

“Shut up,” Tessanna said, her face pale and cold. “I hear the singing again…”

Those were her only words. Overcome with grief, he placed his hands on the giant hilt and apologized before yanking the sword free. Holding in a sob, he wrapped his arms around the painfully light body of his lover.

“Don’t die on me,” he said. “You can’t die.”

The lack of breath and heartbeat insisted otherwise, but Qurrah would not accept it.

“Delysia can heal you,” he said, staggering south with her in his arms. Each step sent more blood dribbling across his knees. Everything was strange. It seemed the stars had shifted and the warmth of summer seemed lost into autumn.

The trek south through the woods was the longest, darkest time Qurrah had ever experienced.

N o cloud dimmed the light of a single star. The Eschaton mercenaries had just eliminated a troublesome band of thieves with delusions of creating a new guild. Haern had given them the choice of death or surrender. Their leader had drawn his weapons. The rest surrendered when they saw how quickly he died.

“Nothing like a job well done,” Tarlak said after depositing the thieves at the prison.

“This place always depresses me,” Delysia said, pulling her robe tight about her. “Let’s go home.”

All glanced to Aurelia, who frowned at them.

“What am I, your wagon?” she asked. “The night is peaceful. We can walk, unless someone else is capable of opening a portal home.”

“What about your kid?” Brug asked. “You should get home, not safe and all… right?”

Another frown. “Nice try. Aullienna’s fine. Bunch of whiners, all of you.”

They left town, traveling across the beaten path west. Harruq and Aurelia walked hand in hand, smiling as the wind blew against their faces. Haern let down his hood, shaking free his golden hair. Tarlak led the way, babbling to the assassin about the idiocy of common thuggery in Veldaren.

When they reached the tower, everything changed.

“Someone awaits us,” Haern whispered, seeing a deviation in the shadows at the door. Aurelia’s keener eyes widened as she saw what waited there.

“It’s Qurrah,” she said. When Harruq heard, he ran ahead, a smile spreading across his face.

“Qurrah!” he shouted as he neared. “Qurrah!”

His smile faded when he was close enough to see.

“Brother?” he asked. Qurrah looked up, and to Harruq’s great surprise, he saw tears. He held the pale body of Tessanna in his arms. Her limbs hung limp, her eyes closed. Blood soaked her clothes, which were ripped and torn. Harruq took a shocked step forward as his brother spoke.

“Please,” Qurrah said. “I need help. Please, help me.”

More and more tears rolled, along his cheek, past his thin lips, down the gray of his chin, and then falling, falling, until breaking atop the dead face of the girl with blackest of eyes.

W hat happened?” Harruq asked. He saw blood everywhere, and Tessanna’s face was a deathly white.

“Just help me,” Qurrah shrieked. Everything inside him broke. He buried his face in her hair and cried. The rest of the Eschaton mercenaries arrived, stunned and confused.

“Let me see her,” Delysia said, rushing past the others. She put a hand on Qurrah, only to have him shove her away. When he looked up his eyes were a bloody red. The priestess saw the wound on Tessanna’s stomach and gasped.

“Help her,” Qurrah said, realizing who it was. “Please, I know you, what you do. Please, help her.”

Delysia put her hand on Tessanna’s neck, and another on her breast. For a quiet moment, she closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her look contained only sorrow.

“She is dead, Qurrah,” she said. “Her heart is still. Her breath is gone. I’m sorry.”

“She’s not dead,” he cried, staggering to his feet. He held Tessanna’s body close. “You have healing spells. Cast them on her!”

“Qurrah, it will do no good.”

“Do it,” Harruq said, his face solemn. “Please, just do it, anyway.”

Delysia glanced to him, and then to her brother. Tarlak nodded his approval.

“Very well. Qurrah, give her body to Harruq. We need to get her inside.”

Qurrah reluctantly obeyed. Harruq lifted her in his arms, grunting at how light she was, and he shuddered at the strange ways her tightened muscles resisted movement. He laid her body on the long table inside. Everyone gathered about, watching in silence, except Tarlak, who moved to Qurrah’s side.

“Who did this?” he asked.

“A giant half-orc,” Qurrah said. “He wielded a greatsword, and had many men with him.”

“Karnryk,” the wizard said. “He posted a bounty for your whereabouts months ago. What did you ever do to him?”

“About a year back,” he said, watching Delysia preparing her healing rituals. “When Dieredon came to speak with Aurelia. They were sneaking through the forest toward the tower. Their intentions were ill, so we struck them. Only Karnryk survived, somehow…”

Tarlak nodded, stroking his beard in thought. Suddenly he stopped.

“A year ago?” he asked. Qurrah gave him a quizzical look, but Tarlak shook his head. He would inquire about it later. Pure white light enveloped Delysia’s hands. She put them across Tessanna’s chest, letting the healing magic flow into her body. Nothing happened. She cast another spell, plunging the light deep into her wounds. Nothing happened. She cast a third spell, a fourth. Nothing happened.

“She’s not dead,” Qurrah said, watching her. “Please, keep trying.”

Delysia glanced up, her eyes filled with pity.

“I will try, for you,” she said. Sweat covered her brow, and her head hung heavy. All were silent as she worked. Every spell of healing she could cast, she did. When finished, and still no change had taken place, she rest her arms on the table and gasped for air.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I can do no more. She is gone, Qurrah, beyond all that I can do.”

“No, you must, you must keep-”

“She is dead, Qurrah!” Delysia shouted, her exhaustion overruling her kindness. “You are no fool. You know this, just as well as I.”

The two glared at one another, neither backing down.

“Um, guys,” Harruq said, drawing their attention to the body. “What’s going on?”

A tiny light hovered above Tessanna’s breast, shining a myriad of faint colors. The room darkened, as if the tiny ball of color sucked in all available light. The seven were lost to bewilderment as feminine voices filled their ears, singing softly. Faster the colors changed, pulsing with an eerie power. Louder grew the singing, an ominous throng tinged with triumph and victory.

The singing ended. The light plunged into her chest. The darkness of the room faded.

Tessanna coughed.

“Tess,” Qurrah said, rushing to her side. He latched onto her hand and kissed her face. Delysia stared at the woman’s waist, where the vicious wound was all but gone.

“Thank you,” the half-orc said, his face pressed against his lover’s as tears streamed down his cheeks. Delysia turned to Tarlak, who stared at her in wonder.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“That was not me,” she said. “Whatever that was, I do not understand. Not my work, Tar, not my miracle.”

“We should find out,” Tarlak said, wrapping an arm around his sister as he watched Tessanna stir as if from a long slumber. “Riddles are interesting only when people are not involved.”

T arlak placed a cot in his room, reluctantly agreeing to let Delysia sleep there. Their two guests slept in his sister’s room.

“As long as she behaves, she can stay,” the wizard told Qurrah. The half-orc stayed by Tessanna’s side long after she sank into sleep. When he felt certain the rest of the tower slept, he crept down the stairs. Harruq, however, waited for him at the bottom, leaning against the door.