David Dalglish: The Cost of Betrayal

He swung both arms like they were tree trunks. They knocked Qurrah’s hand aside, breaking both spells. Harruq gasped, feeling his mind returning, but not just his mind. His rage. He forced his fingers to close around the hilts of his swords. He wasn’t sure if he could feel them or not, but it didn’t matter. Staggering to his feet, he bellowed a mindless, strengthening roar.

“Pitiful,” Qurrah said, reaching for his bag of bones. “Just pitiful.”

W hen the twin spells of fire and lightning hit her shield, Tessanna flinched, feeling her energy draining away to protect her vulnerable flesh. She saw Harruq charge, a brief lashing of whip, but then she could watch no more. Another dual blast ripped through the air. She outstretched her fingers, the translucent shield appearing once more. Two fireballs detonated, flames licking the edges her curved barrier. As the smoke died, there came Brug, dressed in full platemail.

“Get away,” she said, moving her hand in a slapping motion. An invisible force slammed Brug to the side, his flight ending against the trunk of a tree. Someone shouted his name, she didn’t know who.

“Push me,” she cried, shattering a bolt of ice into shards with lightning, halting another fireball with a globe of black that swallowed it whole. “Higher! Higher!”

Her pulse quickened when she saw a familiar shape shoot out of the woods. Gray cloaks trailed behind, whipping in a chaotic pattern. Light glinted off drawn sabers. The watcher had come to play.

“Do you miss my fire?” she asked, another slapping motion deflecting the magically summoned boulders aside to crash into the cabin. She heard the splintering of logs and the destruction of her childhood home, but she felt no loss. It was just rotted wood. Darkness ringing the edges of her fingers, she greeted the assassin in her own special way.

Black chains reached up from the ground, writhing like snakes. They wrapped around Haern as he leapt. They pulled him down, cracking his chin as he landed with a thud. More black chains tore upward, wrapping around the assassin’s helpless body. A sickly rattle echoed from them as he struggled.

“I got you, Haern,” Tarlak said, casting one of his few spells designed to dispel magic from an area. The darkness wavered. The chains’ strength faded as they turned white and pale. Aurelia tore a chunk of earth into the air, blocking Tessanna’s path.

The earth exploded outward, forming a door for the girl to walk through. She approached Haern, who shook off the last of the chains and readied his blades.

“I asked a question,” she said as burning flames enveloped her flesh. “Did you miss my fire?”

“Sorry sweetie,” Haern said, his hand reaching into a pocket beneath his cloaks. “I’m tired of being your torch.”

His hand flipped forward, hurling a small blue sapphire. It hit with a thud against Tessanna’s forehead, an insignificant thing. The magic inside it, however, was massive. White light flared out in a sphere, washing over her. Every trace of her fire died. Her skin exposed, Haern charged, saber tips eager to claim an eye.

Furious at the banishment of her fire, she looked at Haern and snarled. The noise reached tremendous levels, and within it, power. The assassin flew back, sound and wind battering him senseless. A lightning bolt shot past his head, only to be deflected off Tessanna’s hand and sent careening wild. The girl clapped her hands together, the black of her eyes pushing away all traces of white within them. Her fingernails went dark. Her flesh lost what little trace of color it had.

Unsure of what spell she was casting, and not caring to see the results, Tarlak followed his gut. He tried a new tactic, using a similar spell Aurelia had used to control the earth. Instead of forming a protective wall, he ripped a few large chunks directly underneath Tessanna. The first and largest smashed her hands and chin on its ascent. The girl moaned, her teeth snapping down on her tongue. Another section of earth flew into the air, spinning her in a sideways cartwheel. She landed on her shoulder. Blood spewed from her mouth as she cried out in pain.

Blue light danced on Aurelia’s fingers, and then shards of ice flew from them, growing larger in rapid succession. Tessanna rolled, warding her body with her arms. Most pieces missed, but one jagged lance tore through her palm. It forced apart bone and puncturing out the other side. The skin between her two middle fingers tore halfway to her wrist.

She did not cry. She did not scream. She rolled to her knees, flipped her long hair away from her face, and laughed.

“It feels beautifully alive,” she said, holding out her hand so that the blood dripped onto her dress.

“Then this’ll feel like a picnic,” Brug said, having snuck up unnoticed behind her despite his noisy platemail. He jammed his right hand forward, the blade aiming for her heart. The girl heard his voice and twirled to the side. The dagger shredded her dress and nicked a rib. His desire to speak ruined him. Tessanna ducked, her eyes alight with fire. She smashed her healthy palm to the ground. A dome of shimmering violet surrounded them. Both mages tried to punch through with spells, but they were unable to penetrate. Haern slashed once with his saber. The metal bounced back, a healthy shock accompanied the swing. Brug was beyond their help.

“You penetrated me,” Tessanna said, laughing. Just a happy girl, laughing as fire burned her eyes. Brug dove, both hands punching at blurring speeds. Despite his speed, his strength, and his armor, he still only attacked with plain non-magical metal. Tessanna made a strange triangular shape with the fingers of her healthy hand. An invisible force smashed him back. He stuck for a moment to the inside of the violet dome, shivering as electricity jolted through his body. When he fell, smoke wafted from the open parts of his armor.

“Brug!” a female voice shouted. Tessanna glanced up to see Delysia emerge from hiding behind a tree. The crazed girl smiled at her.

“I missed you,” Tessanna said, drawing out her dagger. So often it had cut her own flesh, but many men had been on the receiving end of it as well. The girl stalked toward him, her dagger ready.

“She should be watching,” Tessanna said as she hunched down like an animal. “It makes this better.”

She lunged, snarling like a panther. Brug’s arms felt dead to him. He tried to defend himself, but his hands refused to move. He screamed once, when the dagger punched through the crease between his shoulder and his arm. Blood spilled. Tessanna licked the blade as the others watched in horror.

“Not as sweet as her,” she giggled. “But it’ll do.”

She shoved her dagger with all her strength. Brug kept his mouth shut, refusing to cry out. His thoughts dwindled briefly on the project he had just begun, an amazing sword that would have granted him prestige among those of his craft. He was only half done, but it was stunning. His last thought was of that sturdy blade before the dagger punched through his eye and sent him to the life beyond.

The others trembled with rage and grief as she pulled the dagger out, an eyeball pierced halfway up the blade. She pressed it off with her tongue as she giggled. She held up her torn hand to Aurelia, the ice shard still lodge deeply within. Its blue color was now a deep purple from the blood that soaked into it.

“A present for a present,” she said, throwing her dagger at the elf. It broke through the violet dome, shattering the cage that had sealed Brug to his death. The dagger landed by Aurelia’s feet, bounced twice, and then finally came to a rest pointed toward her like an arrow. Aurelia’s hands shook, and she was unsure if she could calm them enough to cast another spell. Beside her, Tarlak removed his hat and let it fall to the ground.