David Dalglish - The Cost of Betrayal

I would hate to disappoint, was his reply.

Before they could go, Qurrah needed to cast one last spell. By the time he arrived at Veldaren, the stars would be numerous. Beautiful as they were, he needed them gone. Fear was what he needed. Fear, and chaos. The stars combated both. Tessanna had taught him the words for the spell. The knowledge locked in her brain seemed infinite, yet she used it so sparingly.

The words were simple, at least in terms of magical incantations. He cast the spell with ease. Rolling against the wind, a line of cloud grew across the western horizon. Pleased, Qurrah lowered his arms and let out a sigh of relief.

“We are ready,” he said.

The two trudged east in silence. Qurrah had his spells, his whip, and his tome of insanity. Karnryk had his sword and his hand. It was all they needed.

S omething is wrong,” Aurelia said, sitting up in the bed. The blankets fell to a heap in front of her, revealing the thin silk that covered her body. Beside her, Harruq stirred with an unhappy grunt.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, rubbing her arm with his hand. She turned to him, her eyes wide and her whole body shivering.

“Please, my dreams were dark. Something horrible is coming.”

“Just a dream is all,” the half-orc mumbled. “Surely you don’t…you do, don’t you?”

She cast off the blankets and headed for their wardrobe. She let her slinky and unpractical garment fall to the floor, revealing her naked form for a brief moment before she slid on her green dress. It glittered with soft runes and gold trim. She tied a sash about her waist and grabbed her staff, all before Harruq could stumble out of bed.

“Aurry, wait up, what’s going on?”

“Your armor,” she told him. “Put it on. Now.”

Harruq got up, a creeping fear growing in his heart. He had not seen Aurelia this afraid since…well, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen her so afraid. He took his black leather armor off the nightstand and began the tedious routine of buckling it on.

“What did you dream?” he asked, his arms reaching behind his back, pulling on strap after strap.

“I saw Tessanna standing over Aullienna,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. “She was killing her with a dagger, but not normal, not…” She turned, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Please. Hurry.”

From far down the stairs, they heard a banging on the front door. The sound made Harruq’s heart jump.

“That better be coincidence,” he said. Not willing to risk it, he strapped on his cloak, buckled his two swords, and rushed down the stairs. Halfway down, he met Tarlak rushing back up. The wizard was dressed in his bed robes and had a funny, pointy hat on his head, topped with what looked like a ball of cotton.

“Get ready we need to…oh, you’re ready,” he said, giving Harruq a funny look. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “Aurry got spooked by a dream. What’s going on?”

“That was a guard from Veldaren,” he said, dashing into his room. He grabbed his yellow robes and hat, throwing them on over his bed clothes. “Something’s tearing through the town. Tens of guards are already dead. The soldier said they couldn’t corner it, couldn’t overpower it with numbers. We’ve been promised a fortune to kill it.”

He pulled his hat tight on his head, either not noticing or not caring that is was badly crooked. “Wake up Haern, Lathaar, and Brug. I’ll get Delysia. We’re moving, now!”

Harruq banged on Haern’s door, only to have the fully dressed and armed assassin greet him.

“I heard the knock,” was all he said. Lathaar was already awake, his platemail gleaming in the blue light of his swords. Together they roused Brug, who gave Harruq the dirtiest of looks until he heard the reason for his waking.

“Great jumping galoopagots,” he said, staggering toward his armor. Harruq glanced at Haern.

“Galoopagots?”

The assassin shrugged.

T he entire party massed in the main foyer in less than five minutes, armed and armored.

“Let’s go,” Tarlak said, seeing all accounted for. “We strike the killing blow and two-thousand gold is ours. Since Lathaar here won’t accept any, we’re talking a lot of coin split between the rest of us. Oh, and people are dying. That’s bad, too.”

“What about Aullienna,” Aurelia interrupted. “I won’t leave her here unguarded.”

“She will not be safe with us,” Haern whispered.

The wizard rubbed his eyes. “Are you sure we cannot leave her here alone for an hour?”

The elf shook her head, adamant. “I will stay before I leave her.”

“But your magic could decide…oh blast it.” Tarlak glanced about, his mind frantic. “Brug,” he suddenly decided. “Stay and the guard the child.”

“Me? I’m no durn babysitter.”

Aurelia gave him a pleading look, and it didn’t take long for him to melt.

“Please, Brug?” she said. “I will feel much better.”

He kicked his foot and caved. “Fine. Just don’t have too much fun without me.”

With that, the gang headed out into the dark. Rain and wind swept the land.

“The sky was clear when we retired,” Aurelia said, her voice shouting above the thunder. Tarlak nodded, feeling his stomach sink.

“Why did you leave Brug behind?” Harruq asked as his wife opened a magical portal to the city.

“Because he’s stubborn and cranky, the perfect person to watch her,” the wizard shouted. “That, and he’s our worst fighter.”

The half-orc laughed, but not much. The way his wife had looked when she awoke, he was starting to wonder if he would have preferred the best to remain at his daughter’s side. Then the blue portal ripped open, a swirling passage to the city. They all entered, one after another. When Aurelia went in last, the portal swirled closed, its blue light fading. The entrance to the tower fell to darkness.

And in the darkness, something stirred.

T he portal opened beside the fountain that graced Veldaren’s center. The sudden rain had caused the basin to overflow, so the Eschaton stepped out into heavy mud. Already their clothes were soaked to the bone.

“Where is our quarry?” Lathaar asked, glancing every direction.

“When they sent for us, it was in the northern quarter,” Tarlak said. “Stay sharp, and look for guards.”

Lathaar led the way, a longsword in his right hand, a shortsword in the other. Each one glowed a soft blue-white. The light softened their fears and anxieties, banishing them like they did the darkness. Because of such a beacon, it was not long before a guard in chainmail spotted them and came running.

“Thank Ashhur you’re here,” the man shouted. His face was bloodied, and he kept wiping the rain from his eyes. “We tried cornering it against the wall, but it blew right through us like we were twigs and straw.”

“What is it?” Tarlak asked. “What are we fighting?”

“He’s a giant,” the guard replied. “Orc blood, and fighting like a crazed demon. Watched him kill twenty like nothing, and took a priest of Ashhur to even make ‘em wince.”

“Lead us there,” Lathaar ordered. The guard bowed.

“Follow me,” he shouted. He turned and ran north, following the main road before ducking down a maze of empty streets. The sound of steel against steel rang through the thunder.

“He appeared out of nowhere,” the soldier explained, glancing back to make sure they were following. “Don’t know how he got in, the gate guards saw nothing, but then… oh shit, that’s Darren.”

Up ahead, a soldier had staggered toward them, his left arm clutching his chest. His right arm was gone. Their guide ran ahead, shouting his friend’s name.