The Shadows of Grace (18 page)

“Is he worth that much to you?” Qurrah asked her.

“He is my toy, my plaything,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Is that all?” he asked. He left without giving her a chance to answer.

T
hat night, Tessanna stirred Jerico from his fitful sleep. He sat up, crossed his arms, and stared.

“What?” he asked, his body rocking side to side. She was sitting cross-legged before him, a strange look of contemplation on her face.

“I asked you once if everyone deserved forgiveness,” she said. “You couldn’t answer. Now you can. You’ve seen what I’ve done, what we do. Do I deserve forgiveness?”

Jerico swallowed, ignoring the pain it caused his swollen tongue.

“No,” he said. “You don’t.”

She frowned at him. “But you offered it to me anyway.”

He nodded. “Aye. I did.”

“Why?”

At this he chuckled. “That’s what we call grace.”

“I’ve killed people,” she said. “Tortured them. Stole the blood from their bodies. I am everything Ashhur hates.”

“Listen, Tess,” Jerico said. “Either everyone deserves grace, or no one. There’s no rankings, no greater and lesser sins. Either we do Ashhur’s will, or we don’t. Either we love him, or we don’t. That is the simple truth I offer. And you can accept it or reject it. Your choice. If Ashhur forgives you, then I must as well. I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

She looked down at the scars on her arms. She ran a hand over them.

“My father,” she said. “You say I should forgive my father?”

“Yes,” he said.

“You don’t know what he did,” she said, her voice growing soft, quiet.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She looked up at him. The soft voice vanished in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll tell you anyway,” she said, standing. “He raped me. Just a child, but I was his toy. You want me to forgive that?”

She drew her knife. Jerico closed his eyes and lay back down. He had seen this before, granted not in someone so wild and dangerous.

“I killed him,” she said as she approached. “Shoved glass down his throat and sewed his lips shut. Think he’ll forgive me?” She giggled, but it was joyless and frightened. She knelt beside him, the knife edge resting on his neck.

“Your hurt is great,” Jerico said, his eyes closed. “You let it shape you, justify what you are. Who would you be without it, Tess?”

She leaned down, and he felt her hot breath on his ear.

“I wouldn’t be me,” she whispered. “And I like me.”

The knife cut into his skin.

“I like me a lot.”

B
y the third day of flight, Harruq was aching for the good old days of skulking around the streets of Veldaren at night on some odd job Tarlak had given them. The air was brutally cold against their skin, and the few blankets they’d packed did little to help. Seleven did his best, carrying them on wings that took hours to tire. Sometimes he’d snort, and Aurelia would lean down to whisper to him. That was always a sign for Harruq and Haern to grab on tight and pray to survive the upcoming roll, spin, or dive.

They stopped often to eat, rest, and take care of the normal needs of nature for both horse and rider. For the most part the ground was hilly and rough, the grass a thin carpet over dirt so rocky farmers had abandoned trying to use it. By the fourth day, however, the landscape changed below them. A great river slowly drifted south, and when Harruq turned, he saw an enormous lake rimmed by high, sheer rock walls. Trees surrounded it, their branches hanging low as roots grabbed and clawed for a foothold.

“Wow,” said Harruq, awed by the sight.

“That’s where the Kinel River empties,” Aurelia said as she tapped on Seleven’s neck. They swooped lower for a look. The tree branches were a barren, interlocking weave. Harruq found himself wishing they’d come sooner, when the leaves were still changing their colors. Seleven skimmed atop the river, then soared across the lake, its surface rippling from the air of the horse’s wings.

“What’s that called?” Harruq asked, pointing to the lake.

“Beaver Lake,” Aurelia answered.

“Why’s it called that?” he asked.

Haern smacked him across the shoulder.

“Why do you think?”

Just to show him anyway, Aurelia leaned closer and shouted something to Seleven in elvish. They swooped lower, angling southward. Sure enough, at its southern edge was an enormous construction of wood and mud.

“The beavers dammed it a century ago,” Aurelia said. She pointed past where the Kinel River resumed from waters trickling atop the half-mile long dam. The drop down on the other side was frightening.

Haern shouted something, but Harruq had a hard time hearing it over the wind in his ears.

“What?” the halforc shouted back.

“I said do you want to go for a swim?”

“Ha, ha, ha.”

They turned north, then slowed. Finding a smooth ledge where they could touch the water with their hands, they landed.

“Why are we stopping?” Harruq asked as he hopped down. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“We need to decide what we’ll do,” Aurelia said.

“Isn’t Tarlak normally the planning guy?”

“He’s not here,” Haern said. “Though your powers of observation are honed to a shocking degree.”

“Harruq is right, however obvious,” Aurelia said. “One of us must talk to Lord Sully when we reach the Green Castle. Only he can mobilize the defenses of the Hillock. The question is, which of the three of us has the best chance of obtaining an audience?”

“Let me think,” Haern said. “An outcast elf, a warrior of orc-blood whose brother wages war upon the world, or myself, son of a dead thief guildmaster…”

“You’re also the King’s Watcher,” Harruq said. “Surely that means something.”

“That king is dead,” Haern said. “And Lord Sully and Vaelor didn’t exactly get along.”

Obtaining wood for a fire was easy enough, so Aurelia wandered closer to the trees and began collecting fallen branches, Harruq helping her. Haern only crossed his arms and looked across the lake.

“Still think you’ve got the best chance,” Harruq said to Haern while he snapped a few branches in half and tossed them into a growing pile.

“It needs to be Aurelia,” Haern said, shaking his head. He reached into one of the saddlebags and pulled out some wrapped meat. When Aurelia snapped her fingers, igniting the campfire, he unwrapped the meat and began preparing it for cooking.

“Why is that?” the elf asked as she sat down beside her husband.

“You can claim to be an official envoy of the Dezren elves,” Haern said. “You’re of their blood. They will have no reason to deny you. Besides, of all human leaders, Lord Sully is the warmest toward elvenkind.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have to live next to them,” Harruq said, ignoring Aurelia’s jab to his stomach.

“There is some truth to that,” said Haern. “But you must also remember the Hillock shares its western border with the Vile Wedge, protected only by the Bone Ditch. The elves and their scoutmasters have played a large part in keeping the creatures there under control.”

“I might be better at words than Harruq here,” Aurelia said, “but that doesn’t mean much. I’m not sure I can convince anyone that the threat is real.”

“Use your beauty and your wit, Aurelia. You’ll do fine.”

Haern winked at her.

A simple levitation spell hovered the meat above the fire, and a twirl of her fingers made it turn as if on a spit. Harruq watched, reminded of his brother.

“It’ll be nice not having to conjure our meal for once,” Aurelia said. “And if I am to talk to Lord Sully, what am I to say? What should we tell him? And will he even believe us? War demons from another world coupled with an undead army and a rampaging horde of orcs might soon come crossing the Kinel or looping around the northern hills and into the Hillock?”

“Makes enough sense to me,” Harruq said, his mouth starting to water. “And hey, don’t stop turning, it might burn the… there we go. Good girl.”

Aurelia shot him a look, but the halforc only grinned.

“What?” he asked.

“Make you cook your own food,” Aurelia muttered.

“Back to the task at hand,” Haern said. “Dieredon was vague about what the orcs were doing, other than a general spread north. We don’t know where Qurrah and his demons will strike, either. They might follow Antonil west. They might consolidate power in Veldaren, dealing with the various lords one after another. They might even go after the elves for all we know. The point is, Lord Sully needs to know so he can muster his troops to defend his territory.”

“Hard to defend against winged invaders,” Harruq said.

“No,” she said. “He’s right. If the demons assault the Hillock, they’ll most likely be doomed anyway. But I don’t think they’ll do that, not yet. Mordan is the greatest threat, the only other true kingdom. They’ll turn their focus toward it, and most likely let the orcs pillage and burn everything else. There’s a chance to stop them if that happens, so we’ll try.”

“There now,” said Haern. “That sounded plain and precise enough to sway my mind. You’ll do fine with Lord Sully.”

They ate in silence. Harruq shifted uncomfortably, as if he had something to say but was afraid to say it. Haern kept his eyes on his meal, and Aurelia leaned closer toward him, hoping he might find the words.

“I should have killed him,” Harruq blurted.

Haern glanced up. “That’s stating the obvious.”

“Shush, Harruq,” Aurelia said. “You never could have known. He was your brother. Murdering him wouldn’t have brought back…it wouldn’t have changed anything. Don’t blame yourself for what he’s done.”

Haern chuckled.

“You can try all you want,” he said. “But I can think of thousands who wish you’d have buried that sword in his gut. Never forget that. Sometimes mercy is dangerous.”

“So is murder,” Aurelia said.

“Enough,” Harruq said, standing. “I’m sorry. We should get back to flying. Those orcs won’t wait for us to arrive.”

He trudged off, the other two watching him go. Aurelia looked to the fire.

“You blame him for Delysia, don’t you?” she asked.

Haern stood and walked away, saying not a word.

It took several more days to reach the Green Castle, seat of power for Lord Sully. The trip there was quiet, Harruq and Haern saying little to one another. Below them the pale grass rolled, the hills softening once within the borders of the Hillock. Aurelia mentioned a worry of snow, the clouds deep and the air chill, but her concern was unfounded. Still, the weather was foreboding when they arrived at the castle.

“Not much green,” Harruq said as they flew closer. “Looks brown, if anything.”

“Because it’s winter,” Aurelia said. “Every wall is covered with vines. You should see it in summer. The flowers bloom and the vines turn many beautiful shades of green.”

The castle appeared newer in style, built of stone from the mountains to the north. It had a thin wall stretching out from either side, protecting not just the nearby village but several crops fields and deep wells. The castle itself had two layers. Its thick, rectangular base had a tower at each corner and large battlements for soldiers to walk along. The castle’s top was slender in comparison and full of windows. A smooth ramp gave passage between the layers. The entire complex sat upon a hill, and Harruq was glad he wouldn’t have to climb up it, assuming they landed nearby. Given the many archers that lined its walls, he wondered if that was a good idea, and said so.

“I’d prefer we not get shot out of the air, either,” Aurelia said. “Let’s land in the village and approach.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Haern said. “You’re an ambassador of the elves. Land where you wish. Showing unease will only make them suspicious.”

Aurelia shrugged. Made some sense, as much as it worried her. She whispered a command to Seleven in elvish, and they swooped downward. Soldiers were already scrambling when the winged horse landed before the closed gate of the castle’s lower level. Tabards hung over their armor, emblazoned with a green castle over a white field. Aurelia dismounted as a ring of soldiers raised their weapons and glanced at each other nervously.

“Greetings,” she said, bowing in the formal elvish manner, her palms upward and her heels together. “My name is Lady Aurelia Thyne of the green forests, carrying a message for Lord Sully.”

One of the soldiers coughed and looked at the others. When it was clear they weren’t budging, the soldier stepped forward and bowed clumsily.

“Greetings, Lady Thyne,” he said. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll present you to the throne.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. Harruq and Haern hopped down, revealing their swords.

“Not them,” the highest ranking soldier said. “Your companions must remain here.”

“I’m not leaving them,” Aurelia said. “But I understand your concern. They will come unarmed.”

She shot them a look that brooked no argument.

“Don’t touch the hilts,” Harruq said as he handed a soldier his twin blades, Salvation and Condemnation. “You might get yourself a nasty shock.”