David Dalglish - Weight of Blood

“I was banished for my blood,” Qurrah said. “King Vaelor cowers at the very thought of an elf. I will punish his ignorance.”

“Tomorrow night, come to me,” Velixar said. “I have much to discuss and you have much to learn.”

Qurrah stood and bowed before his new master. “I will be here,” he said. “And I will be ready.”

“Go.” Velixar waved his hand, and Qurrah obeyed.

Harruq was still snoring when Qurrah returned to bed. If he had not been so preoccupied, he would have noticed the slight irregularity of the snoring and the exaggerated movements of his brother’s chest.

H arruq slipped outside while Qurrah slept deep into the morning. Most of his bruises had already faded, hidden beneath the gray hue of his skin. He drew many glances, however, and he did his best to ignore them. The people of Woodhaven accepted him but they still viewed his blood in bad regard. Elves and humans held little love for the orcish kind, and had ever since their creation. That distaste suited Harruq just fine. Deep down, Harruq felt he deserved their ire.

He stopped by Maggie’s Place, not bothering to go inside. It was early morning and any already drinking would hardly be useful. Instead he stopped the first random passerby that, in his estimation, appeared to be a kindly person.

“Do you know of a woman named Aurelia?” he asked, butchering the pronunciation. The passerby, an elderly woman, sneered at him.

“Have fun finding that forest slut,” she said before walking on. Harruq shrugged, deciding his ability to pick kindly people wasn’t very impressive. He tried again, this time with a tired man trudging down the street.

“Never heard of her,” the man said. A few more unsuccessful tries sent Harruq away from Singhelm and further into Celed. There the reception toward him took a significant turn for the worse. Many refused to meet his eye or acknowledge his question. The half-orc’s frustration grew.

“That’s it,” he muttered to himself. “Just one more and I’m going home. To the abyss with all this.” An elf approached. He had long brown hair, walnut eyes, and a wicked bow slung on his back. The hardened look on his face gave Harruq little hope.

“Do you know of a woman named Aurelia?” he asked anyway.

“Aurelia?” the elf asked. “Why in all of Dezrel would you be looking for her?”

“She, um, I kind of…” The half-orc faltered. “I owe her a favor.”

The elf smiled as if trying to appear amused, but it seemed a false smile.

“You are looking in the wrong place,” he said. “Search the woods just outside town. Call her name a couple times. She’ll hear you.”

“Thank you,” Harruq said, grateful even though his insides churned. He had faced many men in battle, yet here he was, his heart skipping beats at the thought of meeting this mysterious Aurelia. What was wrong with him?

“You are welcome, half-orc,” the elf said before moving on, the bow still hung comfortably on his back. Harruq watched him go, staring longer than he felt he should. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being led into a trap.

“So be it,” he said. He would not be afraid. He could beat any elf in battle. Grumbling, he stormed off into the forest.

A urelia!”

No answer.

“Aurelia! It’s me, from last night! Can you hear me?”

Only the calm, scattered sounds of the forest returned his call.

“Damn elf,” Harruq grumbled, crossing his arms and looking all about. “She’s probably not here. He just sent me out here to look stupid yelling at trees.”

“And what elf would that be,” asked a familiar voice from behind. Harruq whirled, his heart jumping as Aurelia stepped out from behind a tree.

To his eyes, she was even more beautiful in the streaming daylight. Long auburn hair fell down past her shoulders, curled and tied with several thin braids. Her face and eyes were small, the curve of her bones soft and elegant. She had small lips locked into a frown as she stood cross-armed, as if waiting on him. Her ears were tiny even for her race and ended in an upturned point. She wore a long green dress tied with a golden sash.

“Well? Who sent you here?” she asked. “Was it some mean man trying to toy with you?”

“I’m sorry,” Harruq said before resuming his slack-jawed staring. Aurelia uncrossed her arms, those same soft features turning remarkably fierce as she glared at him.

“Stop that. If you don’t shut your mouth I’m turning you into a toad.”

He shut his mouth.

“So why are you here?” she asked.

“I was just, um, I never got a chance to thank you.” Harruq felt his face flush. This was the most awful thing he had ever done. He’d prefer to face a dragon in unarmed combat. He’d have better odds surviving, too, based on Aurelia’s cold, steeled look.

“You came all the way out here to thank me? Hardly sounds like an orcish thing to do.”

One would not have thought gray skin could turn so red, but it did.

“Well, I still want to repay you.” Harruq held out a small bag filled with copper coins. “It’s all I have. Please, take it.”

Aurelia glanced at the bag. “No,” she said.

“But why?”

The elf shook her head. “Your swords. Where are they?”

Harruq glanced down at his waist. “They’re at my home,” he said.

“Are you any good with them?”

The half-orc shrugged. “Better than most. So yeah.”

The elf looked him up and down, sending chills roaring up his spine. It seemed so strange that she had saved his life, for at that moment he felt like all she wanted was to see him dead.

“Come tomorrow with swords to spar with,” she said at last, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “You can train me to wield my staff in melee combat.”

“I don’t see a staff,” Harruq said.

“I don’t see any swords either,” she shot back.

“Fine. When?”

“Tomorrow,” Aurelia said. “Early morning.”

Harruq nodded, his whole body fidgeting. Now he had found her he wanted nothing more than to escape. He was supposed to thank her and go, not be mocked and ordered around.

“Go on home,” Aurelia said. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

He did as commanded, and that fact disturbed him greatly. Qurrah was awake when he returned.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“I went out to train,” Harruq said.

“Without them?” Qurrah pointed to Harruq’s swords stacked in the corner. The larger half-orc shrugged.

“Didn’t need them.”

Harruq went to the other side of the house and started punching holes in the walls. Qurrah might have inquired further but he was lost in his own secret. The day passed, both brothers eager for night to come.

T he air was cold, a sudden chill from the north chasing away the heat of the day. Qurrah wrapped himself best he could as he climbed the hill. He could see the small fire, and beside it Velixar bathed in its red glow. The fledgling necromancer took his seat across from the man in black.

“Are you ready to listen?” Velixar asked. Qurrah nodded. “Good. The story of this world’s gods is not lengthy, nor complicated, but it is a story that you must learn.

“Celestia created the rock, the grass, and the water. Her hand formed the wildlife, and to tend her creation she created elves. The goddess gave them long life and abundant land so quarrels within their race were of the petty sort. Then the brother gods came. Ashhur of Justice, Karak of Order. There are many worlds beyond our own, Qurrah. I have seen fleeting glimpses of them in my dreams. Karak and Ashhur came from one of those worlds, and Celestia welcomed them. To them she gave the grasslands and rolling hills.