David Dalglish - The Cost of Betrayal

A loud bang turned him about. Harruq stormed over, his face flushed. Qurrah stood, preparing for some sort of ill news.

“Why?” Harruq asked, his whole body trembling with rage. “Why’d you have to continue like this?”

“Like what, brother?” Qurrah said, his own cold anger growing at the sudden, unexpected attack.

“Don’t lie to me. The children in Veldaren. It’s you doing it.”

The necromancer frowned. His eyes narrowed down to thin, serpentine slits.

“Do you accuse me out of proof or conjecture? I know nothing of what you speak, but your anger is enough. Children have died in the city.” When Harruq said nothing, the half-orc smirked. “I take it their deaths were gruesome? Their entrails smeared across the streets? Any fool can desecrate a body, yet you come running, already judging me guilty?”

Tessanna halted her playing, watching the two with her black eyes. Aullienna sensed her seriousness and frowned. She tugged on the woman’s dress.

“Up!” she cried. Tessanna scooped her into her arms, and with tears in her eyes, she held the little girl close.

“Did you do it or not?” Harruq asked.

“The question is, dear brother, why do you care?” Qurrah chuckled, the laughter hiding his fury. “Do you suddenly regret all that you have been? Are you now willing to wish death and judgment on one who must kill fifty more children to rival the blood that stains your hands?”

“It’s not right killing them!” Harruq shouted, his face inches away from Qurrah’s. “Don’t you get it? They’re someone’s son, someone’s daughter, no different from Aullienna! I’d kill any man a hundred times over for laying a finger on her. All that shit about saving them from life’s tortures, and not a word was true. Life is not suffering!”

“Your life is not suffering,” Qurrah said. “But there are a million others who live under the same sun who do not agree. You are but a flailing child in this realm, Harruq, and no prowess with blades will ever change that. Your wisdom is like a worm lodged in an oak. Do you dare tell me what is right and what is wrong?”

“Damn it, Qurrah, just listen!”

“No!” Qurrah shouted, throwing magical power into his voice. “I will not kneel to my own brother. There was a reason I left this tower, and now I remember why.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Tessanna said, drawing both their ire. “I like it here. I like Aullienna.”

“You’re not leaving, Qurrah Tun,” Tarlak said, exiting the tower. “Until I know who this Veldaren Reaper is, you may consider yourself a permanent guest. Surely you understand?” In case Qurrah didn’t, his hand slipped into one of his deep pockets, fingering a sparkling wand etched with sapphires.

Tessanna sensed movement behind her as she watched.

“Should this turn ill, I would hate for Aullienna to be hurt,” Haern whispered into her ear. “Let me take the child.”

Aullienna, who had begun crying, saw Haern and reached for him. Tessanna relinquished the child.

“Why?” Aullienna asked, her shrieks turning to sniffles.

“They are hurt,” Haern whispered to her. “For different reasons, perhaps, but the hurt is the same.”

He took her into the tower.

“Tessanna,” Qurrah said, drawing the woman’s attention away from the child. “Do you mind the stay?”

“It is fine,” she said, her voice quiet and uncertain. “I just want to play with Aullienna.”

“Come inside, then,” Tarlak insisted. “We’ll figure all this out.”

Qurrah ignored the squirming of the whip around his arm and accepted.

T he half-orc poured over his tome as the stars braved the darkening sky. Tessanna quietly watched him. She did not want to break his concentration, nor did she want his attention. She just wanted to feel his touch against her arm as he read next to her. That was all.

Harruq poked his head into the room as if he were a robber.

“We’ll be back before morning,” he said.

“I hold confidence in your abilities to catch such a madman,” Qurrah said, not looking up from his reading. “Exonerate me quickly so I may leave in peace.”

“Yeah. Sure thing.”

He left. Qurrah showed no sign he cared. An hour passed, and like thieves in the night, the Eschaton mercenaries scoured the streets and rooftops of Veldaren, seeking its Reaper. As the hour ended, Qurrah abruptly shut his book and rose from the bed.

“Where are you going?” Tessanna asked, seeing him pull low his hood and wrap his whip about his arm.

“I will find this knave whose meddling has turned my brother against me,” he said. “I will return before the others.”

“Please come back soon,” Tessanna said, her eyes wide. “I can be alone, but right now I don’t want to be.”

“Aullienna sleeps in the highest room,” he said as he opened the door. “Go to her if you must.”

He hurried down the stairs and into the deepening night. Tessanna sat on the bed, her knees curled against her chest. She gazed into nothing, for her mind was on the man she had grown to love, if love was indeed what she felt. Desperate for the emotion, she made her way up the stairs, slid open the door, and stepped inside. Stars mimicking the real location of the night sky covered the roof. A soft breeze blew across her skin. Her bare feet brushed the wooden steps to Aullienna’s bed, but she did not go up. Knowing the child was nearby was enough. She lay on her side, her head on her arms, and did her best to stay awake.

W here is it you hide, fledgling killer?” Qurrah asked as he searched the streets. He closed his eyes, reopening them with a sight known only to those who walked the darkest roads of life. What he saw shook his chest and made his heart stumble.

Across every wall, this message throbbed in a deep purple. To normal eyes it would be unseen, or glimpsed only in passing and then immediately forgotten. Qurrah saw it. It splattered buildings as if the previous night’s rain had been of blood. More ran along the dirt, crisscrossing in tiny streams that clogged the gutters and merged into great rivers leading west.

“Fledgling you are not,” Qurrah said. “But I am no fool.”

He waved his hand and cast a spell. The blood faded, dissipating as if it had never been. The writing on the walls vanished. Only the river remained, for he wished it so. Some illusions did have purpose.

He dashed down the street, following the river. Haern, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, passed over the area Qurrah had been but a second too late, his eyes seeing only shadow where he would have seen the necromancer hurrying away.

S een anything unusual?” Tarlak asked the Tun couple.

“The time the bodies have been found varies greatly,” Aurelia said. “We must be patient.”

“Or perhaps he’s just not killing tonight,” Harruq grumbled, his meaning clear.

“A lack of killing this night does not prove him guilty,” Tarlak told him. “Although it sure doesn’t help him, either. Keep looking. Stick to the poorer parts of town. It seems our killer prefers them as his hunting grounds.”

They broke apart, Harruq and Aurelia south, Tarlak east. Traveling below them, a shield of darkness wrapped about his body, was Qurrah. He followed the blood river west.

N othing marked the alley different from any other, not unless one looked with the hidden sight. Runes marred both buildings beside it. They were ancient symbols of death, hatred, and exile written in an archaic script. The entrance was blocked by a broken cart filled with rotted fruit. Only a tiny gap remained, and Qurrah knew it was made for him. He stared into the unnatural darkness within. Whoever this person was, he had done the killings with purpose, and his gut told him it was to bring them together.