David Dalglish - Weight of Blood

“I had nothing to do with it,” he said. “Why would I?”

“Children have been dying since you arrived here in Woodhaven,” Dieredon replied. “Butchered, with intestines removed, strange carvings on the bodies, and pieces of them missing. We thought a sick mind, but now I understand better. Necromancy requires many interesting artifacts for spells. Your brother is a necromancer, isn’t he?”

Harruq said nothing. He fought back his swelling anger and panic.

“I don’t understand what Aurelia sees in you,” Dieredon continued. “You murdered the children and gave them to your brother. You’re the Forest Butcher. Admit it so I may kill you.”

“I will admit no such thing,” Harruq said, his jaw trembling. “You’re guessing.”

“I have also seen your brother meeting with the strange man in black with the ever-changing face. What is his name, Harruq? What is it he offers you?”

“You’re out of your mind.”

The tip buried in deeper. The elf lowered his face so that the fury in his eyes was all Harruq could see.

“Yes, I am out of my mind. I will let you live. Until Aurelia sees you for what you are, I will spare your life. But know I will be watching you, and I will be watching your brother. One false move and I kill you both. Is that clear?”

Harruq nodded, shivering as he felt the tip of the blade rubbing up and down against the tender skin of his throat.

“Good. Pleasant days, half-orc. May Celestia watch over you…and condemn your actions to death.”

The biting tip left his throat, the blades in the bow retracted, and then the elf was gone. Harruq struggled to his feet, clutching his neck as he gasped for air.

“Damn elf,” he cursed. “How dare you threaten us?”

His hands shook violently as his adrenaline faded. He had been terrified. He thought the elf would kill him, yet he didn’t.

“Big mistake, elfie,” he said. He picked up his swords and sheathed them. “I’ll make you pay for that.”

After a bit of debate, he decided not to tell Qurrah. Velixar had already made it clear they needed to be careful. Now he understood why. He wouldn’t tell Aurelia, either. That would be stupid, and stupid he was not…most of the time.

“I need a drink,” he said, turning toward the town and trudging back. All he could think about was getting a good, stiff drink. If he was lucky, he might get in a good bar fight. Nothing helped him forget his worries better than walloping a fellow drunken idiot.

She felt guilty for spying on him, but Aurelia was convinced she had little choice. Over the past month she had grown close to the half-orc Harruq Tun, and with that closeness was danger. She saw only a goofy young man while Dieredon swore she met with a killer. Only one of them could be right, but who?

Perhaps not, she wondered. Perhaps she saw the elf in Harruq while Dieredon saw the orc. The kindest man might become a brute when surrounded by other brutes. When Harruq was with his brother, or the strange man in black, how then did he behave? Could he kill? Could he murder?

She had to know. It took a simple invisibility spell to approach their rundown home unnoticed, her feet moving silently because of her natural elven grace. It was midday and the sun was high in the sky. When the children had been killed it was usually near the evening, and always when the child wandered into the forest to play. Lately no murders had been found, and Aurelia couldn’t decide if she should be worried or hopeful that they had stopped at the same time she began training with Harruq.

Aurelia peered through a gap in the boards. She and Harruq had finished their sparring an hour before, and she expected him to be resting. She was right. What surprised her was how Qurrah remained asleep as well. Dieredon had mentioned nocturnal visits between the other brother and the man in black, but she had no idea how long they lasted. For Qurrah to still slumber they must be lasting several hours, if not the entire night.

She looked at him, sprawled out on a thick pile of straw, and wondered how he managed to walk, let alone cast spells as Harruq implied. His skin was pale and had a stretched look across his bones. He looked like a drained, emaciated version of his larger brother.

A good set of meals would do him wonders, Aurelia thought.

Boring as it was, Aurelia sat down and prepared to wait. She glanced around, making sure there was no chance a wandering passerby could accidentally bump into her invisible form. Slowly the sun moved along its path in the sky. The brothers woke. Qurrah vanished, returning later with meager portions of bread and tough meat. They ate in relative silence. Aurelia watched, oddly amused by the sight. Harruq continuously glanced over at Qurrah, and when the frailer half-orc was overtaken by a coughing fit, Harruq was there, pounding his brother’s back and looking like his world was about to end. Qurrah merely looked embarrassed and pushed him away.

They clearly love each other, thought Aurelia. Maybe Harruq more than Qurrah.

The day passed, thankfully uneventful. She was almost ready to leave when Qurrah pulled Harruq closer and began whispering. Aurelia cast a spell over her ears, heightening her already sharp hearing. A pall settled over her as she listened.

“…must resume,” Qurrah was saying as her spell enacted.

“It’s dangerous,” Harruq said. “I thought you were learning enough from Velixar.”

“Exactly,” said Qurrah. “But I must practice what I learn. These nights are not enough, will never be enough. What point is sharpening your sword if you never wield it?”

Harruq had no reply. Eyes low, he stepped out into the night, Aurelia not far behind. They travelled deeper into the town. With some trepidation, she noticed he had both his swords swinging from his belt. A knot grew in her stomach, and as they approached the poorer parts of the town, the knot only tightened. She watched the half-orc glance in through the windows of the buildings he passed. She found herself begging he only meant to steal possessions…just possessions, nothing more. Keep the swords sheathed, she prayed. Sheathed and bloodless.

He continued wandering, and she found herself circling several streets multiple times. Stalling, she thought, but it was little comfort. The day was almost done, the town covered with long shadows and darkened spaces. The older boys and girls would still be out to play, but the younger…

Harruq stopped. Aurelia positioned herself to the side, struggling to keep her breathing calm lest she alert him to her presence. They were beside an old house made of slanted boards shoddily nailed together. There was no glass for the window, nor a covering. She wondered what the occupants did during the winter months, preferring her mind to dwell on that than terrible look covering Harruq’s face. His skin had turned ashen. His right hand stroked the hilt of his sword like an itch he couldn’t stop scratching. He put a hand on the wood. Aurelia could only imagine what he saw: a small child slumbering in bed, positioned by the window to keep him cool. Just a child like any other the Forest Butcher had claimed.

When Dieredon had first come to her, she had expected little difficulty in the task.

“They are new to the town, and when they came so did the murders,” he had said. “Meet with one of them, discover who they are. If they are the vagrant scum they appear to be, it will be easy enough to catch them in their crime. The humans can then deal their judgment with a rope.”

It seemed perverse that she had met Harruq by saving him from the fate she was supposed to doom him to. Still, Aurelia was not one to judge by appearances, and what she had seen that night had burned her heart. Two soldiers beating Harruq bloody without cause or reason, Harruq who was so kind to her when they sparred, who brought her flowers and told her stories, who looked upon her like she was a goddess of light in his dreary world…