David Dalglish - The Cost of Betrayal

“It’s almost daylight,” Tarlak said, turning back to Brug. “Figure we should turn in.”

“Go ahead. I can go a day or two without sleep, no problem.”

“Aye, but you get grumpy. Go on to bed. This night’s been a long one.”

“Bah. If you insist.”

Tarlak waved at the fireplace. The light dimmed, although the heat from it remained strong. The two trudged up the stairs, leaving the three to sleep.

Y ou have forsaken me.

“Leave me,” Harruq said. Sweat and blood covered his forehead. Fire raged around him, melting rock and billowing smoke. “I never worshipped you!”

You have forsaken your brother, and you have forsaken me. You turn to Ashhur, who has granted you no power, no wisdom, and no strength. Velixar’s fall is a fleeting moment in time. Will you stand beside him when he comes again?

“No,” he shouted. The wails of a thousand tormented souls overwhelmed his words. “I love my brother.”

You would kill him. You are blind, Harruq Tun. Blind to the path before you. Blind to those who seek to help you. Those who turn against me suffer, half-orc. They suffer greatly.

The tower crumbled to ash. The sky ran with blood, and every star fell. Hordes of the dead marched before him, a single cry on their lips.

“For Qurrah!” they shouted. “For Qurrah! For Qurrah!”

I will hurt you, Harruq Tun. I will ruin all. You betrayed me. Look upon the cost of your betrayal.

The vile voice thundered. The molten earth ran over the dead, burying them. The sky melted, filling the horizon with flame. Only Harruq remained to listen to the cries of his beloved. Aurelia fell into the fire, weeping silently. Tarlak stepped in willingly, tipping his yellow hat as the flesh melted from his bones. Finally, there was Aullienna, who waved at her father.

With a single laugh, she dove in and was consumed.

“Aullienna!” he screamed, horrified as his most precious love disappeared into the raging flow. “Aullienna! Aullienna!” The destruction was complete. Karak’s laughter filled the world, and the chant of the dead changed.

For Order! For Order! For Karak and his Chosen!

The fire rose. It burned his arms, his legs, his waist. It flowed in with every breath, charring all that it meant to be him.

“Aullienna!” he shrieked, lunging up from the ground. His arms flailed about in his blindness, each movement intensifying their aches. “Aullienna, don’t!”

“Harruq!”

Aurelia wrapped her arms around him and held him still.

“Harruq, it was a dream, just a dream.”

He felt her arms and calmed, burying his head into her chest and weeping.

“She was dead,” he sobbed. “All of you were dead. Karak wants you, her, and everyone…”

“We won’t let that happen,” she whispered, stroking his face. “We’ll always be here for her. Always.”

His sobs faded, and his exhaustion overtook him. He lay back down, glad his wife was at his side. He slept, and this time no dreams came to him.

W hat is it, Qurrah?” Tessanna asked. She had been awoken by the screams of her lover. Her kisses had slowly calmed him, chasing away the terror.

“Nothing,” he said, sanity returning to his eyes. “I dreamt of Velixar is all. And my brother.”

“Go back to sleep,” she said. “I was dreaming of dogs eating my heart while worms crawled from my mouth. You whimper like a child.” Qurrah chuckled. Tessanna placed her head across his chest, her long hair draping over him like a blanket. Qurrah opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, unable to shake the horror of the dream. He had been dead, as had his brother. In a demonic haze of smoke and fire, Velixar had mocked him while Karak declared his victory.

“What have we done?” he asked, so softly that Tessanna did not hear. “Have you changed so greatly in the time I was gone?” To him, it had been a few weeks, but to the others, over a year had passed. Perhaps his brother had moved on. Changed. He had a wife and a daughter, after all.

“No,” he said. His brother had not changed. He had merely forgotten. The life they had lived, marching at Velixar’s side, was but a memory to his brother, one long suppressed.

“I will awaken your anger,” he whispered. “I will bring forth the killer you buried. You cannot strike against me, and then deny what we are.”

In his silent fury, he found the comfort to sleep.

H arruq awoke to throbbing pain in both his arms. His left felt weak and clumsy, while the right ached like a dagger was lodged to the hilt inside. His next realization, after the pain in his arms, was that he could see again.

Aurelia was gone. A shuffle to his side brought his attention to Haern.

“What are you doing in my bed?” he asked. The idea that he wasn’t in his bed followed, and he chuckled, glad that the assassin appeared to be asleep. “Never mind then,” he said.

“Did anyone ever tell you your voice is the worst thing to hear in the morning?” Haern mumbled, blinking open a bloodshot eye.

“I take it we’re not sparring this morning?”

“No, no sparring. I think I’ll pass out again, though.”

Harruq struggled into a sitting position, blinking as he looked around the main floor of the tower. Slowly, his groggy mind cleared. He glanced at Haern, seeing his many burns. They were bad, but they appeared to be healing.

“Um, what happened to you?” he asked.

“Your brother happened to me.”

“What?”

Haern pulled a pillow over his head. “Ask Tarlak.”

The man went back to sleep. Harruq grunted and used his numb arm to push his hefty self to his feet. The contact of his hand against the floor awoke a thousand shocks within. Each one reminded him of what his brother had done.

Needing answers, he wound his way up the stairs for Tarlak’s room. He was intercepted halfway there by a very angry priestess.

“What are you doing up?” Delysia asked. “Get your gray butt back downstairs and rest.”

“Where’s Aurry?” he asked.

“Upstairs with your daughter. I’ll get her for you, if you want.”

She examined his arms, her mouth locked in a little frown.

“It’ll be another day before they’re fine,” she said, tossing her red hair across one shoulder. “Don’t you dare try lifting anything until then. I need to reserve most of my magic for Haern, the poor dear.”

“What happened to him?” the half-orc asked, knowing he would not like the answer. “Did Qurrah do that?”

“Appears so,” the priestess said, letting go of his arms. “Tessanna as well. Ashhur protect us from those two if they decide to repay our kindness.” She gave him a wry smile.

Anger bubbled up Harruq’s throat. “Tarlak sent him after them, didn’t he?”

Delysia crossed her arms and pointed down the stairs.

“I’ll bring him to you as well, but get yourself back to your pillows before you hurt yourself…again.”

The half-orc reluctantly obeyed. He mulled over the previous days, desperate to understand what had happened. He had struck at his brother, wounded him severely, and then his brother had responded in kind. Now a friend had attempted to take his brother’s life. How would Qurrah respond? Would he accept an apology? More importantly, should he even offer one? The sight of the massacred child in the alley, his young eyes frozen in a death gaze, was a haunting one.

“Ugh. Too much thinking,” he said, plopping beside Haern.

“Do it silently,” came Haern’s muffled reply.

Tarlak arrived a few minutes later, just ahead of Aurelia and Delysia.

“How’s our wonder-orc?” the wizard asked.

“Loud and annoying.”

“Thanks Haern. Seriously, though, your eyes and arms fine?”