David Dalglish - The Cost of Betrayal

The Eschaton mercenaries prepared their weapons, be it spells or sword, and faced the dark goddess before them.

A urelia stepped out, her heart sinking. The doors to the tower were splintered and broken. It took little imagination as to why.

“Brug!” she shouted, nearly wrenching an ankle running over the debris. She found him slumped in the middle of the floor, drool on his chin.

“Oh, Brug,” she whispered, stroking his face with her hand. She left him there, praying he could be made well. She dashed up the stairs, her staff clutched tightly in her hands. If she met Qurrah, she knew it would come to spells. The elf swore she would be ready.

Had she looked carefully, she would have seen a patch of shadow by the fire deeper than it should have been. She might have even seen a pair of eyes leering out at her with purest contempt. But she did not, so unseen Qurrah slipped out of the tower and into the pouring rain.

At the top of the steps, Aurelia paused, her fears realized in the form of a slightly ajar door. The world silent in her ears, time a forgotten notion, she pushed open the door.

“Aullienna? Baby, are you there?”

From up in her bed Aullienna turned and smiled at her.

“Mommy!”

“Is everything alright?” Aurelia asked, scanning the room as she made her way toward the stairs. “Are you alone?”

“Uncle was here,” the little girl beamed. “He read me a story.” Aurelia’s throat tightened, but she kept a straight face. She climbed the steps two at a time, desperate to hold her daughter.

“He did, did he?”

Aullienna nodded. “Look!”

She held out a small object in her hand. At first, Aurelia did not recognize it, but then it squirmed and raised its silvery tail. It was Qurrah’s scorpion, the gift Brug had made for him.

“Put that down, now!”

In response to the elf’s shout, it turned, raised its tail, and then buried its stinger into the little girl’s wrist.

“Aullienna!”

Aurelia lurched forward, slapping the thing off with the back of her hand. The scorpion fell to the grass and writhed on its back. Aurelia incinerated it with a small bolt of fire before it could right itself. She pulled Aullienna close, her hand tight on her wrist. She turned it upward to see. A trickle of blood marked the sting, but flowing in her veins could be any possible vile poison that scorpions possessed.

“Honey, do you feel alright?” she asked.

Aurelia knelt down, holding her girl’s head to command her gaze. Aulliena smiled as if she were completely unaffected.

“Pretty,” the little girl said. “Uncle made things pretty.”

“Pretty,” the elf said. “Is that so? Aullienna, we’re going to take you to a priest to get you healed. Come with mommy.”

“No!”

The girl suddenly shrieked, and her face turned icy and vile. She clawed at her mother like a captured animal. One of her slender fingernails jabbed against the side of Aurelia’s eye, cutting across her pupil.

Tears wet Aurelia’s face, and when she blinked, she could see blood.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, torn between anger, horror, and confusion. “Baby…”

In response, Aullienna howled like a rabid animal, then turned and leapt off her bed. Aurelia was so stunned she never even dove to stop her. The girl hit the ground on her shoulder and rolled. Aurelia flew after her, crying out her daughter’s name. She feared the worst, but Aullienna moaned. The wild bestial nature in which she had acted made Aurelia hesitate before reaching out her arm to her daughter.

“Love, please, I want to help you,” she said.

Aullienna looked up from the grass, tears in her eyes.

“I’m scared,” the little girl cried. “Please, uncle made me scared.”

Aullienna crawled to her mother’s lap. Sobbing, she buried her face into her dress. Aurelia stroked her hair, her heart broken.

“I’m scared mommy,” she cried. “I’m scared, please help, please, I’m scared, please…”

“Delysia will make you not scared,” Aurelia assured her. “I’m going to go get her. Do you want to come with me?”

“Don’t!” Aullienna wailed. “Don’t, don’t leave, don’t…”

Then the crying stopped. She fled away from her mother as if she had never met her before. Aurelia reached out a hand, only to watch her shy away.

“What did he do to you,” the elf whispered, tears still staining her eyes. She cast a spell over her daughter. At once, the little girl’s eyelids drooped, and she yawned long and loud. Curling up like a kitten, she fell asleep atop the illusionary grass. Aurelia took her in her arms and carried her into the separate bedroom. Flowers scattered from the covering as Aurelia placed her daughter’s body atop their bed. The elf kissed her cheek, then turned away.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. A blue portal ripped open in their room. Rain swirled in from the other side, accompanied by cold air that blew her dress and chilled her skin. A single glance back, and then she stepped inside.

T essanna’s first attack was a wave of serrated shadow with a sharp wedge leading. It tore down the street, leaving a great ditch in its wake. Everyone dove aside lest they be torn to pieces. Several of Antonil’s soldiers were not so quick. They broke like glass, blood pouring out in great spurts from their mutilated bodies. The other guards she gripped with her mind, assaulting each one with a bleed spell. Blood poured out their eyes, ears, mouths and nostrils. She reveled in their pain, and at the horror that came over the faces of the others.

“They are not worthy of my presence,” she mocked.

Haern rushed, beating Lathaar to the girl. He had felt the girl’s power firsthand, and knew the quicker he dispatched her, the better. Tessanna laughed at his approach, surrounding herself with a terribly familiar shield of fire.

“And you’re not worthy of mine,” Haern whispered. He rolled away from a quick blast of dark energy, tucked his legs, and then dove straight for her feet. Although her skin was tough as stone when it came to blades, she was still a frail girl, weighing less than a hundred pounds. Ignoring the biting fire, Haern swept his feet behind her ankles. He grit his teeth at the sudden impact against his shins. Tessanna cried out, the black wings vanishing as she fell.

She struck her fists, and the ground rippled like water. She hovered there as Haern danced for balance, knowing his window to strike was fleeting. Harruq neared, Antonil behind him. The half-orc prepared to hurl one of his swords, but he held it in hand when the assassin bore down on the girl. His sabers stabbed for her neck. The swords struck past her flesh, for the black ethereal wings returned, pushing the girl high into the air. The two collided. He screamed, fire leaping off her frame and onto his face and hands. Still he tried to pull back and stab, only to have her reach up and grab his wrists.

“Now burn,” she hissed. Fire tore from her eyes and seared his face. Haern felt his skin bubbling, the flesh rising up and peeling. He tucked his feet, ignored the burning on his face and the sudden heat on his heels, and shoved out of her grasp. He fell, only to be caught in Lathaar’s arms. Harruq and Antonil charged to either side of the floating girl, coordinating their attack in a desperate attempt to protect their injured friend. Tessanna righted herself and flapped higher, beyond the reach of their swords.

“Come face us, coward!” Antonil shouted, weakly striking his sword against his shield. Even the slight vibration increased the throbbing from his broken collarbone. Lathaar rushed back to Tarlak and laid Haern on the ground. Prayer on his lips, he placed his glowing hands against the vicious burns across Haern’s face.