The Death of Promises (15 page)

“You are the hilt,” Krieger said. “The hand of Karak and his eternal prophet. What name do you prefer?”

“Velixar,” the man with the ever-changing face said. “Velixar will suffice.”

“Forgive me then, Velixar, but I do not need healing. I will bear the scars of my failure willingly.”

“You’ve faced Lathaar many times. I expected him dead by now.”

“The girl interfered,” Krieger said. “That is why I come.”

Velixar pulled his hood tighter about his face as the sun continued its rise.

“The daughters of the whore are well known to me. If you are asking me to kill her, then I must decline.”

“She aids Ashhur,” the dark paladin insisted. “The balance is tilting to our favor, and she has already stopped it once by slaying Darakken.”

“Darakken was a reckless whelp,” Velixar said, his deep voice rumbling in anger. “He deserved his fate. And you did not listen carefully to me, Krieger.”

“You said the daughters were…daughters? There’s more than Mira?”

The man in black laughed, a wicked gleam in his burning eyes.

“There is another by the name of Tessanna. That is why we let them be. The balance is not just threatened, my dear friend, it is spiraling out of control. The two still have their parts to play. Mira and Tessanna have intertwining destinies, and I will not act until I know how they will end.”

Krieger kneeled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Very well. What would you ask of me?”

“Stay at my side. There are two I wish for you to meet.”

“Who are they,” Krieger asked, standing out of his kneel.

“The other daughter,” Velixar said. “And my apprentice. He is the one, Krieger. With his aid, we can open the portal and free Karak from his prison.”

“I would be honored,” the dark paladin said. The man in black laughed, his deep voice an ugly contrast to the beauty of the morning. Amid the stones and the pile of ash he seemed as if he had always belonged.

Q
urrah had slept little since obtaining the journal. Tessanna remained quiet, trusting her lover to inform her of what she needed to know. She wondered absently if he would still possess the ability to heal her mind. Perhaps he would, perhaps he wouldn’t. It didn’t bother her much, but she knew it would upset him, and she preferred him happy.

They prepared a fire, not at all worried that Jerico or the priests might be giving chase. Other than Tessanna’s wound, which had healed into a faded scar, they had thoroughly dominated the followers of Ashhur. Besides, Qurrah’s desire to read overwhelmed caution and stealth.

“Unbelievable,” Qurrah said at last. He placed the journal upon his lap. “Just…unbelievable.”

“Is it what you wanted,” Tessanna dared ask him. He nodded, not understanding her question.

“Velixar lied to me. He claimed that Karak and Ashhur came here to make a better world than their own. He never mentioned they were fleeing like cowards.”

Tessanna snuggled against his side, locking her arms around his side and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Tell me,” she said.

“There were more brothers,” Qurrah said, staring at the cover as he tried to process all that he had learned from Velixar’s own quill. “Karak was the god of Order, Ashhur of Justice. Then there was Thulos, god of War. They were to keep him from overstepping his bounds. They failed miserably. Thulos slaughtered the other gods and seized control of their world. Karak and Ashhur fled to Dezrel, hoping in its calm they could atone for their failure.”

“Instead they warred against each other,” Tessanna said, closing her eyes and sighing as she cuddled her lover. “It seems a bit of their brother’s blood got into theirs.”

“Evidently Thulos’s war demons began going to other worlds, conquering all who would oppose. Even now they conquer, but Velixar seemed sure they could not make it here.”

“Why not?” the girl asked.

“Something Celestia did after the other two gods arrived. I still have much to read, but he refers to it as the great secret. ‘Only in absolute emptiness is there order’ is the mantra he recites, but that is what he calls the truth. The great secret is the quest. I don’t know what it is, for Velixar does not say. He claims Karak learned of it a few years after his imprisonment by Celestia.”

“Karak’s desire has always been to be freed,” Tessanna said. “You know that as well as I do.”

“But why keep the secret hidden?” Qurrah asked. The girl shrugged.

“Perhaps he’s found a way, one he doesn’t want put at risk?”

The half-orc scratched his chin.

“It would make sense,” he said. “I’ve recently found where Velixar talks about his apprentices. They aid him in the quest, though he does not say how, only that Celestia must be weakened. His apprentices needed to possess enormous power to succeed.”

“You were one of them,” Tessanna told him. “One of his apprentices. Shame he is dead now. He could explain what it was he wished you to do.”

“Yes,” Qurrah said, feeling a darkening in his heart. He glanced at his lover. “Tessanna,” he said. “I’m not so sure he remains dead.”

She kissed his lips. “He’s lived a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he still does. You’ll introduce me to him, won’t you?”

Qurrah laughed. “If we do somehow meet him, yes, I would introduce you as my lover and as my wife. Will that suffice?”

The girl batted her eyes and shied away from him.

“I’ve always wanted to meet him,” she said. “He always sounded like someone I would like.”

“If he hadn’t died, I never would have met you,” Qurrah said.

“Then he died at the perfect time. Maybe he’ll live again at the same perfect moment.”

The idea seemed so simple it horrified him. Tessanna saw this and only laughed and crawled into a ball beside the fire to sleep. The half-orc watched her, realizing just how tired he was. The secrets of the journal could wait, he decided. He lay in the grass beside her, his arms curled about her waist. Together they slept as the sun rose higher into the sky.

Q
urrah recognized the feeling, a cold sensation of being seen and judged. His dreams crumbled and broke. He startled awake, his heart beating at a furious pace. Tessanna sat beside him, tracing images in the grass by charring it with her fingers, which sparkled crimson with magic. The sun was high in the sky. He shook his head, clearing the sleep from his mind while his lover began to talk.

“He’s almost here,” she said, her eyes not leaving her carving. “It can’t be anyone else. The man without a face.”

“I will not cower before him,” Qurrah said, clutching the journal to his chest.

Tessanna glanced up at him, her face calm. “I know. Prove how strong you are.”

The half-orc shifted the journal to one arm and prepared his whip in the other. As he stood there, staring about the hills, he felt a chill crawling in the back of his skull. He wore Velixar’s robes. He held Velixar’s private thoughts. He wielded Velixar’s weapon. Everything he was, everything he seemed to be, had been shaped by the man with the ever changing face. And now, with his presence hovering about him, he felt nothing but fear.

“I am strong,” he said, his hissing voice just a whisper. “And he will not show anger at seeing what I have become.”

“There he is,” Tessanna said, pointing. To their south was a twin set of hills, and walking between them appeared Velixar and another man wearing the black armor of a paladin of Karak. They appeared to be talking. If they saw the two lovers, they did not show it. They just marched on, coming ever closer. Tessanna slid over to Qurrah, wrapping her arms about his waist. The half-orc patted her hands, reassured by her presence. If anyone could match Velixar in power, it was her.

At last Velixar looked up and nodded at the two. He waved a hand at the dark paladin, who obediently ceased talking. They crossed the final distance as Qurrah nervously cracked his wrists, waiting to hear what his master would say.

“Qurrah Tun,” Velixar said. The half-orc felt his heart tremble at the sound of his voice. He had forgotten how deep it was, how powerful. “Come to me.”

The half-orc glanced back at Tessanna, who nodded her head and released him from her grasp. He took two steps forward.  His heart raged in chaos. He should kneel. He had always kneeled. But his pride had grown with his power, and now he didn’t know if he could. Velixar stared at him, his arms crossed and his red eyes blazing. The half-orc bent one knee and bowed to his master.

Velixar reached down his hand and pulled the half-orc to his feet.

“Stand,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “No longer should you bow to me. In my absence you have grown much stronger than you would have at my side.”

“I was a coward,” Qurrah said. “My weakness caused your death.”

“I did not lie,” the man in black said. “I said I would not die, and I remained true to my word. And you survived, Qurrah, cowardice or not. If you had died, however bravely, then all I have fought for would have been lost.”

The half-orc shrugged his shoulders, not fully believing the logic but accepting the release from guilt nonetheless. He felt so young and foolish then, not sure of what to say or do before the ageless man. Thankfully, Velixar ended his confusion by pointing to Tessanna, who stood quiet with her hands clasped in front of her waist.

“This beautiful girl behind you,” he said. “She is Tessanna, correct?”

“She is,” Qurrah said, “though I ask how you know her name.”

“Even the gods know her name,” Velixar said, stepping past the half-orc to offer his hand to her. Tessanna stayed where she was, seemingly struck paralyzed by her nervousness. Velixar was not offended. He took another step and offered his hand again, as if approaching a shy animal. The girl kept her head low, her hair hiding her face. From that black curtain she peered out, unsure and embarrassed.

“Tessanna,” Velixar said. “Have you taken my pupil to be your lover?”

“I have,” she said, finally reaching out and taking his hand. It was cold and dry, but she was not disturbed. “And I have taken his heart and soul. He’s mine now, all mine. Are you angry at me?”

Velixar laughed. “Do you know who I am?” he asked her.

“You’re the lion’s mouth,” she said. “And Qurrah’s to be your teeth.”

Again he laughed. “Krieger,” he said. “Come introduce yourself.”

The man stepped forward and bowed on one outstretched leg.

“I am Krieger, dark paladin of the Stronghold. I have come to see the daughter of balance and Velixar’s chosen apprentice.”

“And so you have,” Qurrah said. “Are we what you expected?”

“I expected a champion and a goddess. I see an orc in the prophet’s clothing and a skinny woman too shy to say her own name.”

Velixar narrowed his eyes and watched. He had known Krieger since he was a child, heralded as a prodigy within the Stronghold. But Qurrah was his pupil, and his chosen. He would see how he reacted.

Qurrah reached out with his free hand, his face slowly darkening.

“You’ve been wounded,” he said. “And I am no orc.”

Krieger felt the blood on his back growing hot with energy. In one blinding fast motion he drew his sword and placed it an inch from Qurrah’s throat. The black flame blistered his skin, but Qurrah did not falter.

“You are a gray-skinned mongrel,” Krieger said. “Velixar’s pupil or not, you’re still a child compared to me. You have no faith in Karak. Your lacking is a stink I can smell from here.”

“I have faith in nothing,” Qurrah said. He clenched his fist. The blood on Krieger’s back burst outward. He screamed in anger and swung his sword. Tessanna moved between them, her bare hand catching the blade. Her skin was uncut by the edge, her flesh not burned by the fire. The dark paladin stared in wonder as the girl laughed.

“Bad paladin,” she said. “No murder for you today. And you’re on fire.”

She waved her hand. The blood on his back erupted into flames that swirled about his entire body. He fell to the dirt and rolled to extinguish the fire. Another wave of Tessanna’s hand and the fire vanished. The burns were mild on his body, though he coughed and gagged from the smoke and heat that had seared into his lungs. Velixar clapped, his vile laugh booming throughout the countryside.