David Dalglish: Weight of Blood

“It will not be our hands that destroy Woodhaven,” Velixar said. “King Vaelor will do so for us, starting a war that will give us the dead we need.”

“How?” Qurrah asked.

The fire burned in Velixar’s eyes, deep with anticipation.

“I will darken his dreams, just as I have shown you. He is a cowardly man, and fears the elves already. I played a large part in his banishing the elves from his city. But after I move he will want them gone from all his lands, including here.”

The man in black gestured to the city nestled against the forest.

“This city has long been treated neutral even though it resides within Neldar’s border. The elves will not take kindly to removal from a home many have lived in since before our dear king’s grandparents were alive.”

“I eagerly await the bloodshed,” Qurrah said. He bowed to his master.

“Go. The night is young. Taint the dreams of the slumbering.”

Qurrah left Velixar to sit alone before the fire. The dark night sang a song of crickets and wind. Even in the quiet, Dieredon entered the light of the fire without alerting the man in black.

“Greetings, traveler,” the elf said, bowing. “The town is not far, and all are welcome. Would you not sleep in safety rather than in the wild?”

Velixar looked at the elf, dressed in camouflaged armor and holding his wicked bow.

“You are a scoutmaster for the Quellan elves, are you not?” he asked.

“I am. And you have remained outside our village for several days yet vanish with the morning sun.”

“Have I done something wrong?” Velixar asked.

Dieredon frowned, noticing the subtle yet constant changes to the man’s facial features. His instincts cried out in warning. This man was dangerous.

“Children have been dying in our forest, all found horribly butchered,” Dieredon said.

“As you can plainly see, I am nowhere near the forest,” Velixar said. His voice was calm, disarming. Dieredon did not buy it.

“Give me your name,” he said.

“Earn the privilege,” Velixar countered. The elf’s arms blurred, and then the bow was in his hands. He pulled no arrow, though, for he held the weapon much like one would hold a staff.

“Leave this place,” Dieredon ordered as two long blades snapped out of either side of the bow and many spikes punched out the front. The man in black rose to his feet, an aura of death and despair rolling out from him.

“You should not threaten those who can rip the bones from your body with a thought,” he said, his voice dripping with venom.

“And you should not threaten an elf who can tear out your throat before a single word of a spell may pass through your lips. Go. Now.”

“As you wish,” Velixar said, giving a low, mocking bow. Then he was gone, fading away like smoke on a strong wind. Dieredon sprinted back to Woodhaven, knowing that the darkness was no longer safe to him.

O ne sword came from above, aiming for her shoulder, while the other thrust low. The staff twirled, batting the thrust to one side. Aurelia spun. The downward strike sliced the air an inch from her arm. She continued the turn, her staff whirling. The swords sliced back, trying to block, but they were too slow. The staff cracked against Harruq’s forehead.

He staggered backward, his eyes going wide and blank.

“Look at all the pretty colors,” he said.

“Very funny,” Aurelia said. She smiled. “That was my first good hit of the day. Mind if we make it the last?”

“I’m doomed,” Harruq said, ignoring her. “Oh the agony. What a way to die.” He collapsed, his arms splayed wide and his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Aurelia giggled. “Never thought a half-orc dying could be so adorable.”

His eyes flared wide.

“I’m not!” he insisted.

She slid over beside him, her long hair cascading down across his face.

“Oh, but I think you are,” she said. “Since you’re down here, how about I-”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Harruq sat up, breathing heavily even though the sparring match that day had been relatively casual. The elf smirked and trotted away.

“Hey, Aurelia,” Harruq said.

“Yes, Harruq?” She turned around.

Harruq tapped the hilts of his swords with his fingers and glanced about the clearing.

“I…you still want to hear that story?” he asked.

The playful atmosphere vanished into the trees. Aurelia walked back over and sat on her knees. She put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed and jerked away, then blushed at his reaction.

“Sorry,” Harruq stood up, his face burning red. “This is stupid. I’m leaving.”

“Stay, please,” Aurelia said. The half-orc halted, turned, and sat back down. His face was still beet red but the elf paid it no mind.

“Alright,” Harruq grumbled. “No interrupting, and no saying a thing. I just want to get this over with. Don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

“Because you must,” she said, a bit of her stubbornness returning. “Because I need to know.”

The half-orc nodded. He began his story.

“The only money I ever made was working for the king,” Harruq said. “This was after the orcs attacked Veldaren about a year ago and busted up the walls. They were hiring everybody to help rebuild and I was just as strong then as I am now. They weren’t paying much, but you got to remember we were stealing food to live. Those few coins they gave me were a treasure.

“Most didn’t mind me working with ‘em. I worked hard, harder than most, and I kept my mouth shut, believe it or not. Only one guy there hated me, though, and I mean hated. Perry was his name. Always calling me names, trying to make me lose my balance while lifting and carrying things. Then he did something stupid, Aurelia. He did that in front of Qurrah.”

Harruq thrust out his chin and squint his eyes.

“This was how that Perry guy looked. Seen dogs look more human. He was strong, and I think he was the strongest before I showed up. I told him about this contest me and Qurrah made up, some arm wrestling thing. Guy was drunk out of his mind, so when I told him we could win four gold coins he should have figured something was off.

“We met after work, just past sundown, and I led him straight to Qurrah. We lived way down in the south of Veldaren. Not too many out there at night, and those who are don't see anything and don’t talk about what they don't see. Qurrah cast a spell on Perry then, kind of like you did with the guards. He shouted until his head turned purple but made no sound for the effort. Then Qurrah cast another spell that made him go all tough and rigid. Felt like I was holding a stick. We took him inside and put him on the floor.

“He wasn’t supposed to die,” Harruq said, staring right into Aurelia’s eyes so she would know it was no lie. “We didn’t mean to have what happened happen, but well… Qurrah put a bunch of meat on Perry’s face. It was old and stank. Poor guy still had to keep smelling it, though. And then Qurrah cast his spell.

“The meat started bubbling and turning watery. It ran down his face, even into his eyes. It burned him. His skin turned black, like it was rotting. He called me dogface all the time, Perry did. We were making him just like what he called me. A dogface. But it went wrong. I yelled at Qurrah to stop, and I think he wanted to, but he kept shrieking more of that curse. Then he…”

Harruq rubbed his eyes with his hands and refused to meet Aurelia’s gaze.

“And then Qurrah removed the spells that kept him from talking and moving. He screamed and screamed and he just, he just…he tore off his own face. He just reached up and yanked that mess off him. He died. Qurrah fell over, too weak to stand. Never seen him so scared in my life. He kept staring at that guy’s face and blubbering. He said he didn’t mean to. That’s all he said, over and over. He didn’t mean to. He tried to stop. We burned the body, and I don’t think we ever talked about it since.”