Weight of Blood Page 10

  This red-dream self looked straight at him and spoke but he could not understand the words. The sound of his own voice chilled him, though, for it was dark, it was dangerous, and it was exactly like Velixar’s.

  A god among men, said a second voice, one he had never heard before. It was darker than any shade that haunted his nightmares. There was only one it could be, and it was no mortal.

  Protect your brother, and I will grant you a kingdom. Live as you have always lived, and I will reward you with eternity. Kill, as I desire you to kill, and you will find a peace unknown to the mortal realm. The time for questioning is over. Trust your god as I now trust you.

  Love me, Harruq Tun. Kill for me.

  The dream shattered. Amid the haze of red and black he heard the cries of battle urging him on, offering him a future he had always feared and desired. A life of killing and battle. A life given to Karak. An orcish life.

  The icy fingers left his forehead.

  “It is a select few who have received such a gift,” Velixar said in the quiet night. “You have heard the voice of the dark god himself. Now tell me, what is it you saw?”

  “Please, brother,” Qurrah said. “I need to know.”

  Harruq stared at the dirt, his shoulders heaving with each breath. His mind reeled, and for reasons he did not understand, he opened his mouth and said, “That which I fear and desire. I have had no questions answered, but I do know this: the time for questions has long ended.”

  Velixar nodded. “Indeed, Harruq. It is time for action. I am done with both of you. Go home and rest. Tomorrow we will begin my plan. War shall come to Woodhaven.”

  “We await your orders,” Qurrah said. The two bowed and then returned to town beneath the blanket of stars.

  As the two brothers left, another soul traveled in the dark. He made not a sound as he moved. Any attempts at tracking his passage would be utterly futile for not a single blade of grass remained bent when his foot stepped away. He was Dieredon, Scoutmaster of the Quellan elves, and few souls could match his silence, speed, or skills with blade and bow.

  It had been two days since he had heard word from his friend, Jeremiah Stoutmire. The elf had an uncanny gift for reading clouds and understanding weather. If it would rain a few drops the following day, he would know. Jeremiah, being the farmer that he was, craved every bit of knowledge over the weather that he could get. Every other day some young man or woman from Cornrows came to him in Woodhaven, eager for news about the heavens. But not the past two days. Normally Dieredon would have given this no thought, but times were not normal. He had been unable to locate the mysterious man in black for many nights, but he knew he was still there. His dark dreams told him so.

  When the village came into view of his eagle-like eyes, his gut sank. Not a single sign of life decorated the streets or moved in the fields. He prayed to Celestia he was wrong but his heart knew he wasn’t.

  He found nothing to convince him otherwise as he quickly scanned the village. He found many homes with their doors open wide yet none answered him when he called inside. Everywhere, staining the earth a dark crimson, there was blood.

  “It is as I feared,” he whispered to the night. He stood, took his bow off his shoulder, and then thoroughly searched the town. He found no trace of life barring a few rats that fed off the now unguarded remnants of food. Several homes, those with their doors smashed open, had their floors smeared with gore. One pained Dieredon’s heart greatly, for amid a great red circle on a wooden floor laid a small, bloodstained doll.

  He said a silent prayer before moving on.

  At the edge of the town, he found many frantic tracks fleeing west. He followed them, wincing as some of the tracks ended in dried smears of red upon the grass. A collection of tracks led far past the others. They ended at once, the town a somber image in the distance. The pool of blood there was enormous. Chasing them the whole while were twin sets of tracks, one of enormous weight, the other light as a feather.

  “Every one of them,” he said, his hand clutching his bow so tight his knuckles were whiter than the moon. “They slaughtered even those that fled. Yet there are no corpses.”

  The corpses had been taken. Or made to walk again.

  “The man with infinite faces,” Dieredon said. Another thought came to him. “Or was it you, Qurrah Tun?”

  He raced back to Woodhaven, his mind decided. It was time he had a talk with one of the brothers Tun.

  Harruq arrived at the sparring point in the forest less disheveled than the previous day, and he seemed in better spirits.

  “So what is your surprise for me?” he asked.

  Aurelia smiled from her seat against a tree. She patted the grass beside her.

  “Sit, doggie. How’s your head?”

  “Very funny,” Harruq grumbled as he plopped down. “And my head is fine.”

  From behind her back, Aurelia pulled out a small blue object.

  “Ever seen one of these before?” she asked. The half-orc stared at it, thinking. Suddenly he knew, and he looked at Aurelia in total disbelief.

  “Is that a book?”

  The elf nodded. “Is it a safe assumption that you don’t know how to read?”

  Harruq frowned at the book. “You’re not going to teach me elvish, are you? I mean, it’s me, after all.”

  Aurelia gave him a playful jab to the side.

  “No, it is in the gods’ language, your gods anyway. Karak and Ashhur got something right having humans speak and write the same language.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you not know the story of Karak and Ashhur?” The half-orc shook his head. “I will tell you it, if you care to hear. Mankind, as well as orcs, wolf-men, hyena-men, and all the other odd races scattered about Dezrel, are less than five hundred years old. Many elves remember the arrival of the brother gods and the creation of man.”

  “Huh,” Harruq said. “You may have to tell me the story sometime.” He grinned at Aurelia. “So, are you one of the elves that were there way back then?”

  She gave him a wink.

  “No, but my father was. I’m not that old, Harruq. In elven terms, I am but a child.”

  “How old a child?” he prodded.

  “Seventy.”

  “Seventy?”

  The elf laughed.

  “Don’t be too shocked. You have elven blood in you as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if you lasted a couple hundred years yourself. This is assuming someone doesn’t kill you, which I find rather unlikely.”

  Harruq gasped at the thought. He had always felt akin to man and orcs, whose lives burnt out so quickly. The idea of living two hundred years was…well, it was more than he could handle.

  “Strange,” he said. “Guess I have plenty of time to learn to read, don’t I?”

  Aurelia laughed. “You do, but I would prefer we not take too many years. Spending that much time with you is bound to give me bad habits.”

  She handed over the book. Harruq opened it and flipped through the pages. Each one was filled with various symbols, lines, and curls. Aurelia winced at the rough way he handled the paper.

  “What are these?” he asked.

  “The human alphabet. And you’re going to learn it.”

  He protested, but it was a weak protest. Aurelia opened up the book and pointed at a large colorful object.

  “This is the letter A. Say it with me. A.” She frowned when Harruq did not participate. “What?” she asked.

  “You’re treating me like I’m a little child,” he sulked. Aurelia promptly hit him over the head with her staff.

  “Until you get the alphabet down you are a little child. Now stop whining and start repeating. A.”

  They went over the alphabet several times until Harruq could repeat most without thinking too hard.

  “I want you to take it home with you,” she said when they were done. To her annoyance, Harruq refused to accept the book.

  “I really don’t want to take it,” he said.
>
  “Why not?”

  “Well I, just…” His face turned a mixture of gray and red. “Qurrah doesn’t know I’m doing this.”

  Aurelia sighed and set the book down beside her.

  “Why don’t you tell him about me? Well? Why not?”

  “I’m just embarrassed, alright,” he finally shouted.

  “Embarrassed? Why?”

  “Qurrah’s smart, can read and everything. He’d want to know why I never asked him. That and, well, you’re a…you know…”

  “A girl?”

  Harruq grew redder.

  “An elf!”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Harruq viciously uprooted blades of grass with his fingers. “I don’t know.”

  Aurelia stared at Harruq for a while, her eyes probing. The half-orc endured the gaze, concentrating fully on his grass-removing project.

  “I would feel better having met your brother,” she said at last. “But you may take as long as you wish.”

  “Good. Can we spar now?”

  “Of course,” Aurelia said, picking up her staff.

  Hours later, they finished and said their goodbyes.

  “See you tomorrow,” Harruq called, sheathing his blades. The elf did not reply as she vanished behind the trees. He stared after her for a bit, then turned toward home. Before he could take two steps, a sudden weight crashed into his side. He tumbled best he could, his shoulder absorbing much of the impact. His legs tucked underneath him and pushed, shooting him back to his feet. Out came his swords.

  Standing before him was Dieredon, his bow held in both hands like a staff. Long blades stretched out from either end, tiny razor teeth lining the front. The elf twirled the bow in his hands and then charged. Two quick hits batted one of Harruq’s swords out and away. A feint, so quick Harruq blocked on instinct, took care of the other. With his weapons wide, the half-orc was exposed. Dieredon wasted no time. His knee smashed the half-orc’s groin. As pain doubled him over, a snap kick smacked his chin, splattering blood. He dropped.

  The sharp tip of a blade pressed against Harruq’s throat before he knew what was happening.

  “Move,” Dieredon said. “Please, move. Give me excuse to kill you.”

  Harruq was too stunned and disoriented to give him what he wanted. Instead he lay there, his nose throbbing and his swords limp in his hands.

  “What do you want?” he asked, ignoring the sharp pain on his throat as a tiny drop of blood trickled down his neck.

  “The entire village of Cornrows is missing,” Dieredon said. “Most likely dead.”

  Harruq’s breathing quickened. His hands tightened around the hilts of his weapons.

  “I had nothing to do with it,” he said. “Why would I?”

  “Children have been dying since you arrived here in Woodhaven,” Dieredon replied. “Butchered, with intestines removed, strange carvings on the bodies, and pieces of them missing. We thought a sick mind, but now I understand better. Necromancy requires many interesting artifacts for spells. Your brother is a necromancer, isn’t he?”

  Harruq said nothing. He fought back his swelling anger and panic.

  “I don’t understand what Aurelia sees in you,” Dieredon continued. “You murdered the children and gave them to your brother. You’re the Forest Butcher. Admit it so I may kill you.”

  “I will admit no such thing,” Harruq said, his jaw trembling. “You’re guessing.”

  “I have also seen your brother meeting with the strange man in black with the ever-changing face. What is his name, Harruq? What is it he offers you?”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  The tip buried in deeper. The elf lowered his face so that the fury in his eyes was all Harruq could see.

  “Yes, I am out of my mind. I will let you live. Until Aurelia sees you for what you are, I will spare your life. But know I will be watching you, and I will be watching your brother. One false move and I kill you both. Is that clear?”

  Harruq nodded, shivering as he felt the tip of the blade rubbing up and down against the tender skin of his throat.

  “Good. Pleasant days, half-orc. May Celestia watch over you…and condemn your actions to death.”

  The biting tip left his throat, the blades in the bow retracted, and then the elf was gone. Harruq struggled to his feet, clutching his neck as he gasped for air.

  “Damn elf,” he cursed. “How dare you threaten us?”

  His hands shook violently as his adrenaline faded. He had been terrified. He thought the elf would kill him, yet he didn’t.

  “Big mistake, elfie,” he said. He picked up his swords and sheathed them. “I’ll make you pay for that.”

  After a bit of debate, he decided not to tell Qurrah. Velixar had already made it clear they needed to be careful. Now he understood why. He wouldn’t tell Aurelia, either. That would be stupid, and stupid he was not…most of the time.

  “I need a drink,” he said, turning toward the town and trudging back. All he could think about was getting a good, stiff drink. If he was lucky, he might get in a good bar fight. Nothing helped him forget his worries better than walloping a fellow drunken idiot.

  10

  She felt guilty for spying on him, but Aurelia was convinced she had little choice. Over the past month she had grown close to the half-orc Harruq Tun, and with that closeness was danger. She saw only a goofy young man while Dieredon swore she met with a killer. Only one of them could be right, but who?

  Perhaps not, she wondered. Perhaps she saw the elf in Harruq while Dieredon saw the orc. The kindest man might become a brute when surrounded by other brutes. When Harruq was with his brother, or the strange man in black, how then did he behave? Could he kill? Could he murder?

  She had to know. It took a simple invisibility spell to approach their rundown home unnoticed, her feet moving silently because of her natural elven grace. It was midday and the sun was high in the sky. When the children had been killed it was usually near the evening, and always when the child wandered into the forest to play. Lately no murders had been found, and Aurelia couldn’t decide if she should be worried or hopeful that they had stopped at the same time she began training with Harruq.

  Aurelia peered through a gap in the boards. She and Harruq had finished their sparring an hour before, and she expected him to be resting. She was right. What surprised her was how Qurrah remained asleep as well. Dieredon had mentioned nocturnal visits between the other brother and the man in black, but she had no idea how long they lasted. For Qurrah to still slumber they must be lasting several hours, if not the entire night.

  She looked at him, sprawled out on a thick pile of straw, and wondered how he managed to walk, let alone cast spells as Harruq implied. His skin was pale and had a stretched look across his bones. He looked like a drained, emaciated version of his larger brother.

  A good set of meals would do him wonders, Aurelia thought.

  Boring as it was, Aurelia sat down and prepared to wait. She glanced around, making sure there was no chance a wandering passerby could accidentally bump into her invisible form. Slowly the sun moved along its path in the sky. The brothers woke. Qurrah vanished, returning later with meager portions of bread and tough meat. They ate in relative silence. Aurelia watched, oddly amused by the sight. Harruq continuously glanced over at Qurrah, and when the frailer half-orc was overtaken by a coughing fit, Harruq was there, pounding his brother’s back and looking like his world was about to end. Qurrah merely looked embarrassed and pushed him away.

  They clearly love each other, thought Aurelia. Maybe Harruq more than Qurrah.

  The day passed, thankfully uneventful. She was almost ready to leave when Qurrah pulled Harruq closer and began whispering. Aurelia cast a spell over her ears, heightening her already sharp hearing. A pall settled over her as she listened.

  “…must resume,” Qurrah was saying as her spell enacted.

  “It’s dangerous,” Harruq said. “I thought you were learning enough from Ve
lixar.”

  “Exactly,” said Qurrah. “But I must practice what I learn. These nights are not enough, will never be enough. What point is sharpening your sword if you never wield it?”

  Harruq had no reply. Eyes low, he stepped out into the night, Aurelia not far behind. They travelled deeper into the town. With some trepidation, she noticed he had both his swords swinging from his belt. A knot grew in her stomach, and as they approached the poorer parts of the town, the knot only tightened. She watched the half-orc glance in through the windows of the buildings he passed. She found herself begging he only meant to steal possessions…just possessions, nothing more. Keep the swords sheathed, she prayed. Sheathed and bloodless.

  He continued wandering, and she found herself circling several streets multiple times. Stalling, she thought, but it was little comfort. The day was almost done, the town covered with long shadows and darkened spaces. The older boys and girls would still be out to play, but the younger…

  Harruq stopped. Aurelia positioned herself to the side, struggling to keep her breathing calm lest she alert him to her presence. They were beside an old house made of slanted boards shoddily nailed together. There was no glass for the window, nor a covering. She wondered what the occupants did during the winter months, preferring her mind to dwell on that than terrible look covering Harruq’s face. His skin had turned ashen. His right hand stroked the hilt of his sword like an itch he couldn’t stop scratching. He put a hand on the wood. Aurelia could only imagine what he saw: a small child slumbering in bed, positioned by the window to keep him cool. Just a child like any other the Forest Butcher had claimed.

  When Dieredon had first come to her, she had expected little difficulty in the task.