David Dalglish: Weight of Blood

“He’s dead,” he said. Cold sweat covered his body. Remnants of his nightmare floated before his eyes, the icy voice of Velixar rolling over him in his vengeful fury. All he’d known, all he’d ever loved, was dead and gone. Only Karak had remained, furious at the loss. Through it all, one single fact pulsed as an undeniable truth.

“Velixar,” Harruq said, clutching Aurelia’s hands and sighing with a mixture of relief and terror. “He’s dead. I’m free.”

Aurelia kissed his forehead as the half-orc drifted back to sleep, still overcome with his exhaustion. To her eyes, it seemed he slept far better than he had before.

Q urrah did not know what to say or do as he watched his master die. His entire world had just come crashing down in the darkness. Above him were more than fifty elves, each one eager to bury an arrow in his back.

“Harruq,” he said, crawling amid the bodies. He desperately hoped none would spot him. He reached a large stinking corpse lying on its back with a golden arrow in its forehead. Qurrah shoved the body onto its side, curled underneath, and then let it fall atop him. The weight crushed his fragile body and the smell was awful, but it was his only cover. Miserable, he hid there, quietly whispering.

“Where are you, Harruq?” he said, his face buried into the dirt. His tears fell to the grass. “Harruq, I need you. Where are you?”

Then he heard talking and shut his mouth.

“Are you alright, Dieredon?” an elf asked. The scoutmaster nodded, leaning heavily on his bow.

“I will be fine. His magic left my body upon his death.”

A neigh brought his attention upward. Sonowin landed next to him, her white hair stained red in places. She nuzzled the elf with her nose and snorted something.

“You worry too much, old girl,” Dieredon said, his voice cracking several times. He patted her once and then turned to the elf standing nearby. “How many did we lose?”

“Half. We paid dearly to kill this man.”

“A heavy price,” Dieredon said, gingerly climbing atop Sonowin. “Heavy, but well worth its weight in blood. A great evil has left this land. Let us return to Woodhaven for this place of death turns my mouth sour.”

The two took to the air and joined the other survivors. They did not try to locate their dead among the hundreds of other rotting bodies. Instead, a few elves flew low and scattered firestones, small pebbles that burst into flame upon landing. Grass and bodies caught fire, and the battlefield rapidly swelled into a giant funeral pyre.

Qurrah crawled out from underneath the body as he heard the fires erupting all around him. Everywhere he looked, he saw corpses and flame. He spotted the robes of Velixar and ran to them. He picked them up and shook them, furious that no body remained.

“You lied to me, Velixar,” Qurrah said. “You said you were eternal. You said you held the power of a god. But you lied. You are nothing but dust.”

Surrounded by fire and death, the half-orc stripped naked of his rags and donned the robes of his former master. Despite all the arrows and heat, they seemed in perfect condition. Even the stain of blood was already fading. Qurrah held the side of the hood to his mouth and coughed as the smoke grew ever thicker.

“Goodbye, Velixar,” he said. Then he chose a direction and staggered away. Slowly, and with a few wide curves through the carnage, he found a way out. He huddled the black robes tighter about his thin body, relishing the soft feel and perfect fit. Smoke clogged his lungs, but the stinking waves of it were lessening the farther he walked.

“Where are you, brother?” Qurrah asked once he could breathe freely. In the dark before the dawn, it seemed he would receive no answer.

At last, he could travel no more. He had no food, no destination, and no company. His limbs were weak and his head throbbed with each step. To his knees he slumped, and with slow breath after breath he let time pass and his strength return while his mind reeled through ideas of how to proceed.

W hile the sun was still a sliver peeking over the horizon, Aurelia woke Harruq with a shake of his shoulders. She then sat back and put her hands to her forehead while the half-orc tried to remember where he was.

“Can you find him?” Harruq asked her, realizing what she was doing. He sat on his rear and began readjusting his armor to his more slender frame.

“In time,” she said. “I have met him only once, but I doubt there are any like him. Stay quiet and be patient.”

Her mind was a net, and she cast it further and further out, scanning the rolling hills and the plains beyond.

“Found him,” she whispered.

A blue portal ripped through the air before Qurrah, beckoning him. He looked through but saw only mists and distorted landscape. Seeing nothing to lose, he got to his feet and stepped inside. He felt the sensation of traveling a great distance yet his mind insisted he had taken only a single step. He could see the orange glow of the great pyre several miles away.

“Brother!” Harruq cried, wrapping him in a hug. Qurrah endured it with his hands at his side. “I was so worried about you!”

“Velixar is dead,” Qurrah said, eyeing Aurelia warily.

“We know,” the elf said. “It is well to meet you again, Qurrah.”

Qurrah stepped back from his brother, and as he did, Aurelia noticed his robes and frowned.

“You should have left them. He was an evil man. Following his footsteps will lead to a similar fate.”

The half-orc said nothing. For a moment all three glanced about, the atmosphere akin to air before a thunderstorm. Qurrah broke the silence.

“Woodhaven is behind us,” he said. “I have made mistakes, as has my brother. I saw you leave with him, and I know you sacrificed much to protect him. For this, I thank you. All I ask is that we speak naught of this again. If we are to travel together, it is my only wish.”

“A wish gladly granted,” Aurelia said, a tiny smile finally cracking free. “So where is it we should go?”

Qurrah glanced at his brother and shrugged.

“The only homes we have known are Woodhaven and Veldaren. I doubt either will gladly accept us.”

“I have never been to Veldaren,” Aurelia said. “Although I have heard it is beautiful, in its own way. I can get us inside, if all you fear are the gate guards. The edict to banish elves is foolish, anyway. After the casualties he took in Woodhaven, the king should be forced to revoke it lest any human villages be attacked.”

“I wouldn’t mind going back home,” Harruq said. “Sound good to you, Qurrah?”

“Wherever you two go, I will follow,” he answered.

“Settled then,” Aurelia said. “You two are going to have to play along when we get there, though.” She glanced up to the sky, which was still speckled with stars even though dawn fast approached. “We’ll wait until morning. I could use a bit more sleep.”

With that she walked away, cast a levitation spell upon herself, and then settled in for sleep hovering an inch above the grass.

“Odd girl,” Qurrah whispered. Harruq forced a laugh. To Qurrah’s eyes, he looked exhausted, and the shrinking of his muscles was glaring.

“I’m sorry I left you there at Woodhaven,” Harruq said. “And I’m sorry you were alone when Velixar died. How did it happen?”

“Elves came and attacked. No apologies are necessary, Harruq. All is forgiven.”

“No, it’s not all forgiven,” he said, grabbing his brother’s shoulders. “I can see it in your eyes. Please understand. I would have given anything to be there with you.”

Qurrah’s bloodshot eyes twinkled with fading rage and sorrow.

“But you weren’t.” His voice lowered, as if he were afraid Aurelia would hear. “You abandoned me for her. You left me, still wounded and alone. And I know what you did, brother. You turned against Velixar. You denied the gifts he gave you.”