David Dalglish: The Cost of Betrayal

When they tried to open the door, it swung in easily. Tarlak grinned at them as he leaned against the back wall.

“So how’d you do?” he asked as a furious Harruq followed his brother out, slamming the door shut behind him.

“A draw,” Qurrah said. “To the final floor?”

“To the final floor!”

T he final floor was a bit different from the others. There were no beds, no chests, no drawers, and no current occupants. Instead, piles upon piles of boxes and crates were stacked everywhere.

“Yeah, this is where we store most of our potions, armor, stuff like that,” Tarlak explained.

“Where will we sleep?” Harruq asked.

“Will the floor do for now? I can purchase some beds tomorrow. I’ll just loan it out from your next cut.”

“Next cut?” Qurrah asked.

“Of your payment, of course. We are mercenaries.”

Harruq rubbed his lower lip, a few things connecting correctly into place. “So we’re going to make some gold here?”

“Not enough to be rich, but we carry a decent reputation here in Veldaren,” Tarlak explained. “We have little competition, we’re dependable, and now more than ever, we’re incredibly versatile. A tenth of all our contracts go to fund the organization, and the rest we split evenly. Sound fair?”

“More than fair,” Qurrah said. “I thank you for taking us in. It is more than we had hoped for.”

“Well, you might have hoped for beds,” Tarlak said, gesturing to the crates. “But we’ll see what we can do.”

Harruq waved an arm at all the miscellaneous things. “Where’s this going to go?”

“Good question. Ever seen a portable hole?”

Both shook their heads.

“Well, neither have I, but I plan on buying one tomorrow. I’ll consider it a one-time cost to hire you into our fold. For now, just shove aside all our crap and make yourselves at home.”

“I doubt this place will ever feel like home,” Harruq said.

“Yes, the roof doesn’t leak,” Qurrah muttered.

“Give it a shot,” Tarlak said. “We might surprise you. Probably already have.”

“Given our past few days, it’s just one surprise of many,” Harruq said, surveying the junk that filled his room. His room. Of his home. Surprising didn’t begin to describe it all.

T arlak sat on one of the couches before the fireplace, a much-needed drink in hand. His hat lay next to him, his shoes kicked off.

“About time you poked your head out,” he said when his sister appeared, her priestess robes switched out for a more simple and comfortable tunic. “So many lonely hours down here eagerly awaiting feminine company.”

“I doubt it is my company you were hoping for,” Delysia teased. She scooted his hat over and sat down next to him.

“Is that necessary?” she asked, nodding at the drink.

“Absolutely,” he said. “I just invited a whole collection of freaks into my little home, and on what grounds?”

“You know why,” Delysia said.

“Do I?” Tarlak asked before draining the rest of the glass. “Are you sure that’s them? Maybe Ashhur wanted some other group.”

“I’m sure,” Delysia said. “I don’t know about the elf, but the two men are damaged. We do them much good by giving them a home.”

“Yeah,” Tarlak said, still not convinced. “You’re probably right, at least about the damaged part, mentally and physically. But we’re acting on a dream.”

Delysia frowned, and her small face curled up in a clear expression of hurt.

“No dream,” she said. “And no hallucination. Prayer, quiet and certain. They’re the ones we were to help, and help them we will. It is not my fault Ashhur is more comfortable talking to me than you.”

Tarlak laughed.

“Ashhur’s just scared that if he says hello to me, he’ll find himself missing a few lovely angels.”

“Speaking of lovely angels,” Delysia said. “You should go check on your new friends.”

“As you wish, milady,” Tarlak said.

W hen Tarlak returned to the upstairs room, he was pleasantly surprised by the half-orcs’ progress. Qurrah had supervised while Harruq did the grunt work, as was common between them. Crates originally stacked against the wall they piled twice as high, and any empty crack did not remain empty. After about an hour of pushing and stacking, they had cleared a small space in the heart of the tangled jungle.

“I’d say it’s about suppertime, wouldn’t you?” Tarlak said, whistling at the sight. “By the way, remind me to have you two do my heavy lifting from now on.”

“What’s to eat?” Harruq asked.

“Come and see,” the wizard said with a mischievous look. The two were more than willing to comply.

Supper was a feast that put many feasts before it to shame. Evidently Aurelia and Delysia, both skilled in forms of magic, had spent a good half hour conjuring up the most exotic, rare, and mouthwatering cakes, meats, crumpets, pastries, bread, and fruits, most of which the half-orcs had never seen before.

“Great leapfrogging Karak,” Harruq said when seeing the food splayed out on the table.

“We eat well here in my tower,” Tarlak said with a huge grin on his face. “Impressed?”

Harruq did not have chance to answer. His mouth was already full.

A urelia joined the half-orcs as they were preparing to bunk for the night.

“You two busy?” she asked, poking her head through their door.

“Come on in,” Harruq said. “Here to see our lovely living conditions?”

“Whiners. I’ll be sleeping on the floor as well.”

“Don’t you mean hovering above it?” Qurrah asked. The elf shrugged.

“Same thing. I just wanted to make sure this was fine with you two.”

Qurrah tilted his head and gave her a funny look. “We would not have joined if we did not so wish.”

The elf shook her head and poked Harruq.

“You might not have, but I get the distinct impression this big lug would follow me around wherever I go. And I don’t see you abandoning your brother either, Qurrah. So, humor me. Is all of this good?”

Harruq walked over, put his arms on her shoulders, and very, very slowly, spoke down to her.

“We…are…good.”

“Good,” Aurelia said with a smile before zapping him with electricity from her forefinger. She kissed his forehead as he lay on the ground, tiny bits of smoke trailing from his skin.

“Ni-ni Harruq, ni-ni Qurrah.”

“Sleep well, lady Thyne.”

“Nighters,” Harruq groaned from the floor.

“You certainly have an interesting way with women, brother,” Qurrah said as he closed the door.

“You think I insulted her?” he asked.

“Seems likely. By the way, you need another haircut.”

“Very funny.”

T hat night, as the two lay on bedrolls and stared at the ceiling, Harruq broke the silence.

“Hey, brother?”

“Yes, Harruq?”

“This whole thing…things are gonna be different now, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Qurrah said softly. “I think they will be.”

Harruq rolled onto his side and stared at the floor. Yes, things were different now. He wasn’t sure how, he wasn’t sure why, but a new chapter had begun. The question was, what awaited him in those unwritten pages. And more importantly, why was he so troubled by it?

Qurrah fidgeted, remembering the death of Velixar, and remembering the dust his master had become, nothing but a swirl of gray and white piled underneath garbs of black. It was the fate of all things to become ash and earth, he knew, but what fate lay beyond? He remembered Velixar’s haunting words, and the thought of meeting him again did little to warm his heart. A soft voice, tiny and often ignored, dared speak up in his mind. All men turned to dust. Perhaps his life determined whether his soul, if it existed, would also turn to dust. The path he walked, dark and distant from so many, could it turn him to where the road faded into lightless forests of thorns and graves?