The Cost of Betrayal (Half-Orcs Book 2) Read online

  Praise for The Cost of Betrayal

  “I do not speak in hyperbole to say that this is one of the four or five best novels I have read IN MY LIFETIME.”

  --Robert Duperre, The Rift Online.

  “Another great genre book, more accomplished than the first in the series and evidence that a very good new writer is in the process of honing his craft.”

  --Derek Prior, Author of The Resurrection of Deacon Shader.

  BOOKS BY DAVID DALGLISH

  THE HALF-ORC SERIES

  The Weight of Blood

  The Cost of Betrayal

  The Death of Promises

  The Shadows of Grace (coming soon)

  THE WORLD OF DEZREL

  A Dance of Cloaks

  Part One

  Prologue

  The room was dark and plain, a strange combination for a supposed holy place.

  “Take my hand, child,” Aresh said. He stood inside the doorway, the noisy streets of Veldaren behind him. His polished armor shone bright, and the chainmail beneath the large sections of plate clinked from the movement of his outstretched arm.

  “I’m no child,” the woman said, refusing his hand but entering anyway. On either side of the wood walls were hard oak benches covered with thin blankets, stitched golden mountains across their lengths. There were no windows, and only the one door. She knew she should be worried, a girl trapped alone with a strange man. But he was a priest of Ashhur, and she was no normal girl.

  She smiled at the priest. He was middle-aged, with thinning hair around his ears and a nose much too large for his face to be attractive. He smiled back, his lips parting to reveal clean, straight teeth.

  “We use this room for confession and difficult talk,” Aresh said as he closed the door. His voice sounded weak in the empty air, and a bit eager. “Many are not comfortable voicing their fears where others may hear. There are matters that demand privacy, even secrecy.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “What about you, Tessanna? Is there anything you want to confess?”

  She noticed he had taken off the bulkier part of his armor and set it aside. A part of her, deep in the back of her conscience, told her to be wary.

  She wasn’t.

  “I’ve done plenty,” she said, her voice still soft and shy, sounding much younger than her eighteen years. “But I wouldn’t ever confess. That implies I think it was bad, or don’t want to do it again. I like the bad stuff I’ve done. I liked it a lot.”

  Aresh’s breathing had grown a bit louder, and Tessanna held in a laugh.

  “That is because you are sick,” he said. “Your mind is broken, Tessanna, shattered into pieces. I have discussed this with my fellow priests, even our high priest Calan, and we all agree. Your mind is like a puzzle. Someone must put the pieces back in the right order.”

  “And that someone is you?” she asked. The bench was cold and uncomfortable when she sat on it. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a knowing wink. “Can you put me back together?”

  She noticed how smooth he was, even with her direct approach. He was not smooth enough, however, to hide the fact that he had loosened the belt at his waist.

  “Ashhur’s grace is something we must all receive,” he said. “The glory of his light heals all wounds, and it would be blasphemous to believe that you are beyond healing, as some have said. You are a beautiful girl, Tess.”

  She lay on her back, her arms stretched over her head. She was slender, her skin milky white and smooth as polished stone. Her long black hair curled about her waist. Her eyes pierced Aresh’s attraction, stirring a bit of guilt and worry. Her irises were solid black, so that her eyes were giant black orbs with hints of white at the edges, and under her gaze he felt naked. His smooth words seemed like childish lies, unneeded and unconvincing.

  “Can you fix me?” she asked, a smirk touching the corners of her mouth.

  “Close your eyes,” he said. “And do not be afraid. I will give you my healing. Ashhur has blessed man and woman, and through his blessing, I will make you whole.”

  With her eyes closed, she listened as his armor and belt hit the floor. She felt a part of her retreating inward, toward the center, while the childish, frightened girl remained on the outside, passive and gullible. When he climbed on top of her, she dared believe it might work.

  Because she wasn’t whole. She was many, she was sick, and she had killed more people than Aresh would believe.

  He grunted and moaned, and his jerky movements only elicited a tighter clenching of her eyes. His hands fumbled across her breasts. He tried to be gentle, but she didn’t care. The pieces twirling in her mind waited and waited, but they felt nothing.

  “Ashhur’s salvation,” Aresh said before kissing her.

  Those words ignited something inside her, something opposite what he intended.

  “Salvation,” she said, opening her eyes and looking at him with a cold stare that shriveled his stomach. “This is your salvation? This is what Ashhur can offer me?”

  He rolled off her, short of breath and seeming small and weak without his armor and white tunic. She giggled, and the sound froze him where he stood.

  “I should have known,” she said. “I didn’t want to know, I tried not to know, but you lied to me. You shoved lies down my throat and kissed me to keep them down.”

  Aresh pulled up his pants, feeling a chill race up and down his spine. Tessanna slid off the bench and approached. All childishness had left her, vanishing as if it had never been. It seemed an entirely new creature stalked him, cruel and angry. He towered over her by a full foot, but still he felt terrified.

  “I have made you whole,” he said, his voice quivering.

  “You filled a hole,” she said. “And you did a poor job at that.”

  She grabbed his wrist. He couldn’t tear away. She weighed next to nothing, she was so rail thin and bony. Why could he not pull away? The muscles in his arm tensed, then relaxed. He felt a strange presence, like a worm crawling in his brain. When she spoke, there was no trace of a smile, no hint of shyness.

  “How many girls have you taken here?” she asked. Her hair lifted as if a strong wind blew through the room, but Aresh felt nothing, only the icy grip of her hand and the digging, squirming sensation behind his eyes.

  “I’ve never…you don’t…let go of me child. I have done Ashhur’s work.”

  Tessanna laughed, but there was not a shred of joy in it.

  “If you do Ashhur’s work, then let me do Karak’s,” she said.

  Aresh took a step back. Those eyes, he thought. Why can I not look away from those damn eyes?

  “You don’t want to do Karak’s work,” he said. “Karak is evil and darkness. Those who worship him will spend eternity in the fires of the abyss.”

  “Is that true?” Tessanna said. “Let’s find out.”

  He had no chance to scream before fire burst from Tessanna’s fingers. She bathed him in flame, and when he finally did scream, she laughed.

  “Praise be to Ashhur,” she shouted. “Bathe in his light!”

  The light from her hands seared his flesh, and when he was nothing but ash and bone, a strong wind blew open the door and scattered his remains.

  As the wind died, Tessanna knelt, her hands clasped against her chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. Her cold anger was gone. She was the shy, young girl once more. “You said you could fix me. You lied. You hurt me. I’ve been hurt enough. I won’t let anyone hurt me anymore.”

  Mind still broken, she walked out into the streets of Veldaren, unworried about her hiked up dress and exposed left breast. When an old lady finally commented, Tessanna
smiled, thanked her, and fixed her dress.

  “Not a care in the world,” the lady muttered as Tessanna walked on.

  1

  Qurrah was the last to wake. The sun was high in the sky, dawn several hours past. He kept his eyes closed and his body still. Every muscle ached from the battle of Woodhaven the day before. He thought of his escape with his master…former master, he corrected mentally. Velixar had died, his body riddled with elven arrows tipped with blessed water. Abandoned and alone, Qurrah had staggered through the fire and corpses, bitter and angry at his brother Harruq for not being there in his time of need.

  At the thought of his brother, Qurrah felt his stomach tighten. He could hear Harruq talking with Aurelia, an elf he had befriended over the past few months. He was smitten, though he seemed oblivious as to how badly. Their talk was of small things, purposefully avoiding the conflicts of the prior day.

  A pleasant smell teased his nostrils. His stomach rumbled noisily. Qurrah finally coughed and stirred, alerting the two to his awakening. Noticing the movements, Harruq trudged over, food in hand.

  “Morning,” he said, handing him a plate full of sausage, lettuce, and buttered bread.

  “Did you abduct a cook while I slept?” Qurrah asked.

  “Courtesy of the elf,” Aurelia said, walking over. “And finally you’re awake. Hurry and eat.”

  Qurrah took the plate and sampled a bit of sausage. The warm food stirred his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten. He rammed food into his mouth, not caring about any sort of manners. Aurelia watched him, a small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Qurrah seemed pale and drained, his muscles almost non-existent as they clung to his bones. He looked like a pathetic caricature of his brother, one drained of warmth, joy, and trust.

  But not strength. Aurelia knew well the strength the half-orc hid, powerful necromancy honed to a fearful precision at the hands of his master, Velixar. Both brothers were half-orc, half-elf, and that mixture seemed to have unlocked a strange reservoir of power for the two of them. Many elves had fallen to them in battle, overwhelmed by blade and magic.

  “Careful there,” Aurelia said as Qurrah nearly choked on some lettuce. “I can make more if you’re hungry. I never expected you to out-eat your brother.”

  A wave of her hand and the plate refilled. The brown sausage steamed as if just taken from a fire. Qurrah stared and shook his head.

  “How?”

  “A simple spell. I could teach you, if you wished.”

  The half-orc resumed eating, nodding as he did. “I would appreciate it.”

  Harruq sighed, remembering all the meager meals, many stolen, that he and Qurrah had shared over the many years.

  “Too bad you never learned that spell ages ago,” he grumbled.

  After Qurrah finished, the three prepared for travel. It didn’t take very long, considering their meager possessions. Qurrah had his magic whip, which he wrapped around his arm, and his pouch of bones and other components for his spells. Harruq buckled his swords to his belt, ran a hand through his hair, and then declared himself ready.

  “So where are we to go?” she asked, her own few things tucked away in secret pockets of her dress.

  “We know little of this world,” Qurrah said. “We have been exiled twice. Once for our blood, and once for the blood we spilled.”

  Aurelia winced, still uncomfortable with mention of the battle. Harruq and Qurrah had fought against her elven kin and slaughtered many, but she had protected Harruq and even helped him escape. A day later, she still was not sure why. She just remembered the panicked, desperate look in Harruq’s eyes when he thought she might die, murdered by his own hands.

  “Mordan banished my kind,” Aurelia said. “And it seems now Neldar has done the same. East or West, there is no home for me.”

  “You said yesterday you could get us into Veldaren,” Harruq said. “Is that true?”

  Veldaren was the capital of the kingdom of Neldar, and had been the brothers’ previous home before they had been expelled.

  “Only if you both play along,” Aurelia said. “How we live once we’re in, though, will depend on you.”

  “It might not be comfortable,” Qurrah said. “My brother and I are used to the dark and the filth. Could you say the same?”

  “Don’t treat me like a prissy child princess,” Aurelia said. “I’ve lived longer than the two of you combined. I can endure a bit of hardship. Now close your eyes, Harruq.”

  She placed her hands on his face as he stared at her with wide eyes.

  “Um, what are you doing, Aurry?”

  “Be quiet. Can you remember what Veldaren looks like from beyond the gates?”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “I said close your eyes. Concentrate on that image. It’ll be hard, knowing you, but try anyway.”

  Qurrah smirked as Harruq did as he was told. He remembered the great wall surrounding the city, made of stacked stones, each one taller and wider than several men. He remembered the great oak doors, lined with metal and steel. He remembered the castle proper, looming over the city with its great collection of towering spires and crenellated walls. It was an awesome sight, crafted by the hand of the dark god, Karak.

  Aurelia focused on these images, lifting them from Harruq’s mind akin to a ladle drawing water from a well. She focused on the fields of grass stretching from the front entrance on either side of a worn path. Perfect. Eyes still closed, she let go of Harruq and stepped back. Words of magic slipped through her lips. The air before her ripped open into a flat, whirling blue essence.

  “And there we go,” she said, opening her eyes. “Veldaren.”

  She stepped through the portal and vanished. The two half-orcs glanced at one another.

  “You first, my brother,” Qurrah said.

  “I’d hate to leave you again. I’ll follow after.”

  “Get in there, you child.”

  “Fine,” Harruq grumbled. He took a deep breath, took another, and then stepped through. Qurrah followed.

  Both felt the same sensation of flying over a great distance, yet to their minds they had taken a single step. The gentle hills north of Woodhaven were gone, replaced by the walls of Neldar, the city of stone.

  “That was easy enough,” Harruq said. He decided not to mention his insides felt like they were doing loops.

  “We have been banished, as has your kind,” Qurrah said. “How do you plan to sneak us in?”

  “Through the front gate, of course,” Aurelia said. “Just give me a moment.”

  She chanted again, the words far different than any spell Qurrah was used to hearing. This was no magic of destruction or death. No, it was a much subtler magic. Aurelia’s dress changed from a simple green to an elegant mix of reds and violets. The gold of her skin faded pink. Her ears lost their upturned tips, enlarging and rounding out into human ears. After a quick snap of her fingers, white gloves appeared, covering up to her elbows.

  “I look the definition of a rich noble of Mordeina, do you not agree, my servants?” she asked.

  “Servants?” Qurrah said. “Surely you jest.”

  “Why else would you two accompany me? Keep your mouths shut, and agree with anything I say. Oh, and here.”

  Another snap of her fingers, and suddenly large leather bags, clipped together by gold and silver buckles, appeared at their feet. The elf winked.

  “A noble doesn’t travel empty handed.”

  “You mean a noble’s servants,” Harruq grumbled. He picked up two, grunting at their weight. “What is in here?”

  “Rocks. And you forgot a bag.”

  He looked at the third, sitting in front of Qurrah.

  “I am but an advisor and protector,” the weaker half-orc said. “You would not think I would be forced into physical labor, would you?”

  Aurelia laughed into her glove as Harruq shifted two bags to his right hand and grabbed the third with his left.

  “Laugh all you want, I’m dropping
these things the second we’re inside.”

  “You poor dear. Now hurry, we don’t want my delicate skin in the sun for too long.”

  They were far enough away from the entrance that Aurelia’s shift in clothes and facial design went unnoticed. Harruq grunted and groaned with every step, his arms bulging with muscle. He felt they would pop out of their sockets if he travelled much farther. He dropped the bags as they halted before the two gate guards, who had barred the entrance with their crossed spears.

  “I’m sorry, milady, but those things have been banned from the city,” said one guard.

  Aurelia scoffed at the two guards as if they were children.

  “I don’t know how, since I, and they, have never been here before.”

  “Only human blood is allowed entrance,” said the other. “I suggest you leave them outside during your stay.”

  “I most certainly will not,” Aurelia huffed. “You don’t expect a frail thing such as myself to carry these bags on my own, do you?”

  “I’m sure you could hire…”

  She interrupted him by snapping her fingers in front of his nose.

  “I have already hired my servants. And if I recall, you have banned elves, not orcs.”

  “Milady, we may turn away any we wish. I am telling you, those things behind you are not coming inside, servants or otherwise.”

  Qurrah put a hand on Harruq’s arm, which was shaking with slowly building rage.

  “Calm, brother,” he whispered. “Save your anger for when it may do good.”

  Aurelia untied a coin purse from her sash, hoping neither of the gate guards heard Qurrah’s words.

  “Now then,” she said, her mood brightening, “you say I can hire new servants? Well, how about I hire you two?”

  The guards exchanged glances, and did so a second time with much wider eyes when the disguised elf opened the purse to reveal a pile of shiny gold coins.