David Dalglish - Weight of Blood

“Yeah, what else,” Harruq said, shifting more of his brother’s weight onto his shoulder. Qurrah’s eyes drooped, and it seemed sleep would steal him away before they reached town.

Harruq found his blades without too much trouble. He laid Qurrah down. His brother slept peacefully, and in silence the half-orc took the old weapons into his hands. He looked up to the stars. Even as a child, those far away lights had awakened something in him, something so different from what he thought he was. Right then, it was awakening guilt and fear.

“I do what I choose,” he argued to the stars. “No, what I must.”

The words felt hollow, nothing more than self-serving lies. He kept remembering the mother with her young babe clutched to her breast as she fled from him. When he had rammed her, she had tucked the child to guard it from the fall. Right before the kill, she had held him, trying to protect him.

“Why?” he asked. A part of him worried he might wake his brother, but he was too drained to care. “Why did she do that? She could have run faster without the child!”

No, he knew that answer. She would not abandon her child just as he would not abandon Qurrah. Then what was bothering him so? He fell to his knees and stabbed the old weapons into the dirt. The faces of those he had killed danced before his eyes, especially the mother and her child, and the young girl holding her little sister. The fear in their eyes. The screams. The panic. Horror.

“I do what I have to do,” he said again. But did the town have to die? All those children, mothers, sisters, fathers…nothing but a test. And all those small bodies he left for his brother to mutilate? What was it he was accomplishing with his swords? Every action, every kill, seemed to confirm the words of his brother. He was a killer and nothing more. His legacy would be one of death and emptiness.

The ghosts of the village clung to his back and neck. His choice was made. When he looked to the stars, he saw Aurelia’s face among them. He tried not to think of what she’d say if she knew what he had done. Guilt and regret meant nothing so he choked it down. It didn’t matter what he wanted. His oath was made. His swords had swung. The weight of blood was on his shoulders, and who was he to fight against it?

“I’m sorry if I’m weak,” Harruq whispered to his sleeping brother. “I can’t be like you. I can’t be strong like you…”

The half-orc buckled the old pair of swords next to the gleaming black blades on his belt. He then gently took his brother into his arms and carried him back to town. The weight of his brother in his hands was a feather compared to the burden on his heart.

H arruq arrived late to his sparring match with Aurelia. His face was haggard and his eyes bloodshot.

“Rough night?” Aurelia asked. She blinked as a tingle in her head insisted that something was different about the half-orc. After a few seconds, she saw it.

“Harruq,” she asked, “is it me, or did you grow thirty pounds of muscle overnight?”

“Yup,” Harruq muttered. “I’m magical like that.”

The elf glared at him.

“Sorry,” he said, his face reddening. “I had a long night.”

Aurelia nodded. She twirled the staff in the air and then hooked it underneath her arm.

“Ready to start?”

The half-orc shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Instead of starting, she lowered her staff and crossed her arms. “Something’s wrong, Harruq. Tell me what bothers you so?”

Harruq sighed and looked away. He gently tapped his swords together. “I don’t know. Bored.”

“Am I not a challenge?”

He made vague shrug that could be taken either way. Let her think that was it, he thought. It was a whole lot better than the truth. Aurelia, however, seemed none too pleased. She twirled her staff again.

“You might be surprised, orcyboy, but I could beat you in a spar.”

Harruq scoffed. “You have no chance,” he said.

“First to three hits,” the elf said, taking a few steps back. “We’ll make it a wager, even.”

“What’s the bet?”

The elf flashed a smile so quickly it may not have existed. “Loser barks like a dog,” she said.

The half-orc looked like he had been slapped. “A dog?”

“Yes. A dog.”

“Very well,” Harruq said, drawing his swords in his gigantic arms. “Guess you get to be my bitch today.” He lowered his weapons and thrust out his chest. “Here. I’ll prove it. Two free hits. I’ll still beat you.”

Aurelia eyed him, obviously insulted. She gave him two quick raps across the chest.

“Two to zero,” she said before dancing away. Harruq raised his swords and roared.

He crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat, twice as fast as he had ever moved in their previous sparring matches. Aurelia leapt backward as blades dove for her chest and abdomen. Her staff shot spun back and forth to parry thrust after thrust. Harruq pressed his attack, shifting on one foot so that his next two attacks came slashing downward for her thigh and ankle.

The staff blocked one but the other banged against her calf.

“One to two,” Harruq said. He double thrust, offering the elf no reprieve. She smashed her staff upward, pushing the two attacks high and giving her room underneath. She ducked forward, trying for a strike against the half-orc’s leg.

She badly underestimated Harruq’s new speed. One blade looped around and blocked the attack. The other went straight down, the edge smashing hard against the top of Aurelia’s skull. While it did not draw blood, the jolt of it knocked the elf to one knee and gave her a dull ache in her head.

“Have you lost your mind?” Aurelia asked as she rolled away. Harruq’s mad charge was her answer, and it sparked fear in her heart.

Sword strikes came in, impossibly fast. Any thought of the fight being practice left Aurelia’s mind. It felt too real. She stayed defensive, parrying with all her skill while constantly dancing away. Harruq stayed with her, and every time the elf pulled out of a roll or landed from a leap backward, he was upon her. Notch after notch covered her staff as the swords chopped harder and harder.

His strength grew as the fight progressed. He held nothing back. He weaved his swords through three stabs, feint a high slash, and then twirled up and around for a low thrust. Aurelia fell for the feint and brought her staff up high, leaving her lower half exposed. Her slender frame twisted. A sword cut a thin line across the green fabric of her dress but did not touch skin.

She thought Harruq might stop and claim the cut counted. He didn’t.

Instead he crosscut, his left arm swiping right while the other swept left. She turned to one side, using her staff to press one sword into the dirt and knock the second swipe just above her. The staff continued twirling, positioning Harruq’s hands further out of place. She used the awkwardness to gain further separation between them.

Her hands ached from the force of every block and parry. Her breath was fast and shallow. Her hair, which she had failed to tie up before the fight, hung in wild strands before her face. She was beautiful, but Harruq did not see it.

To Harruq, she was the young girl cradling her sister. He charged.

Aurelia thrust her right hand forward, her fingers spread wide and stiff. Words of power poured from her lips, and without hesitation, the forest obeyed. Vines shot from the earth and wrapped around Harruq’s arms and legs. Down he went. Aurelia gave him no chance to recover. She raised her outstretched hand higher. More and more vines appeared, covering the half-orc’s arms and legs with green. They lifted him into the air, his boots dangling two feet above the ground.