The Cost of Betrayal (Half-Orcs Book 2) Page 19

  “How’s that?”

  She wiggled her fingers in loopy and exaggerated movements.

  “There’s power in these here fingers. Tarlak taught me a spell that sends my voice to anyone in Dezrel. Whatever I say, he will hear, given a few seconds or so.”

  Harruq grinned.

  “Some neat stuff you mages know. All I do is swing a sword.”

  Aurelia nestled her head against his chest and purred.

  “Yes, but you do it well.”

  “I guess that’s all that matters, eh?”

  “You bet. Now hug me.”

  He did as he was told.

  It was during lunch that Harruq thought to ask Aurelia who she invited to their wedding.

  “Just Dieredon and Felewen.”

  He hacked, and he did his best not to choke on his food.

  “You want Dieredon to come? Are you insane?”

  The elf tossed her hair over one shoulder.

  “Possibly. I am marrying you, after all. Why, do you not want him here?”

  “I don’t know, wouldn’t him wanting to kill me make things a little tense?”

  She took her fork into her hand and pretended it was a bow. Imaginary arrows flew one after another across the table, each one accompanied by the joyful sound of her laughter.

  “Har har har,” he said. “Not funny.”

  “Of course it is,” Tarlak said, plopping down in a seat next to Aurelia. “What are we laughing at?”

  “Harruq’s being a baby,” Aurelia explained, popping a cherry tomato in her mouth.

  “Am not!”

  “Are too!” the wizard shouted. He turned back to the elf. “About what, anyway?”

  “I invited Dieredon to our wedding. Turns out he disapproves.”

  The half-orc threw his hands up in surrender.

  “Could make the part where we ask if anyone has objections interesting,” Tarlak mused.

  “What?” the half-orc asked, very much worried.

  “Nothing, dear,” Aurelia said, elbowing Tarlak in the side. “I’ll tell him to behave, and besides, seeing you do something civil for once might do him good.”

  “Yes, the domesticated orc,” the wizard chipped in. Harruq’s glare was full of death promises.

  “I’ll have to remember that,” she said, smiling at her fiancé. “You’re my domesticated little orciepoo.”

  “Why do I put up with all of you?” he asked, pushing away his plate and standing.

  “Because you love us,” Tarlak said. “Well, you love me, anyway. Not sure about the lovely lady here.”

  “Now now, Tar, I don’t need any competition for my Harruq’s love.”

  “You guys are so…wrong,” the half-orc said, storming out the door. When he left, their laughter followed him down the hall.

  “Should I worry about you stealing my love from me?” she asked him.

  “Not really,” Tarlak replied, his grin spreading ear to ear. “His butt’s cute, but not that cute.”

  They both lost control, laughing only harder when Haern came down the stairs with a most perplexed look on his face.

  They would hold the wedding outside, cradled against the forest. Tarlak purchased a few extra chairs for seating, all at Harruq’s expense, of course. What Aurelia would wear they kept hidden from Harruq, just as his cape and clothing were hidden from her. No word had come from Qurrah and Tessanna, something that gnawed at Harruq even more with his wedding so close.

  Felewen arrived three days before the ceremony. Her reception of Harruq was quiet but warm. The two elves talked for hours in Aurelia’s room. Many times Harruq stopped by the door, wishing to enter. Common decency held him at bay. Dieredon’s arrival the day after was just as quiet, but far less warm.

  “Greetings, orc,” was all he said to Harruq. To the rest of the tower, he was charming, witty, and graceful. Time found ways to crawl ever slower, and come the eve of his wedding, Qurrah was yet to show.

  “Think he’ll be here?” he asked his fiancé, who was wrapped inside his arms, their backs pressed against a tree whose bark was smooth as pressed grass.

  “You know him better than I. What do you think?”

  He wrapped a blanket around them both, shivering in the cool air.

  “I don’t know anymore. I think that is why I worry.”

  Leaves rustled in the nearby forest as a soft wind blew through them. Aurelia kissed his cheek, and then settled right back down against his chest.

  “He’ll come. There’s good in him somewhere, and I think he’s fond of me.”

  “Hope you’re right.”

  “So do I,” she whispered.

  The cold sensation of air against his legs pulled Harruq from his slumber. He groaned, tucking his knees to his chest for warmth. He lay there, halfway between sleep and consciousness, until the gnawing sensation of something missing forced his mind awake. The slender form in his arms was gone. Harruq sat up and looked around. Dew soaked his hands, back, and wetted the blanket that covered his waist. The sun was low on the horizon.

  The sound of rustling grass alerted him to someone’s arrival.

  “Aurry?” he asked, squinting against the light.

  “Have they evicted you on your final night of freedom?” asked a quiet, raspy voice. Harruq beamed as his adjusting eyes spotted a frail form dressed in black robes.

  “Brother!”

  He staggered to his feet and wrapped him in a hug. Qurrah chuckled, offering a meager squeeze back. “I didn’t think you were coming,” Harruq said, grinning at him. “Why’d you take so long?”

  “The elf’s spell told us to arrive by this morning. As far as I know, I am not late.”

  “Did you bring the girl?”

  Qurrah chuckled. “She did not wish to attend.”

  Harruq was unsure of what to say that would not offend his brother, so he let the subject drop.

  “Ah well. Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

  Qurrah’s eyes glinted at the thought of food.

  “That sounds wonderful,” he said.

  Qurrah’s entrance to the tower was a mixed thing. The members of the Eschaton smiled and welcomed him, including Tarlak, but Felewen and Dieredon both lurched to their feet.

  “I killed you,” Dieredon said, an arrow already drawn and ready. Qurrah pulled back his hood to reveal his face, and with his steeled eyes, he stared Dieredon down.

  “I know, for I was there,” the half-orc said.

  A deathly silence filled the room as the two faced off, the arrow not wavering even though the string was pulled fully taut.

  “I will not have bloodshed in my tower,” Tarlak said.

  “It is strange company you keep,” Dieredon said to the wizard, his body not moving. “Why should this one be left to live?”

  “Do you wish me dead?” Qurrah asked, a sneer spread across his face. “I have seen my master murdered at your hands. I know my doom. The question is not whether I wish to live, but whether you wish me to die. You have released my brother from your condemnation. What have I done that he has not?”

  “His eyes held regret when I was ready to take his life,” Dieredon said. “Yours openly invite it.”

  “Regret is naught but fear in a different dress,” Qurrah said. “I do not know fear.”

  “Enough!” Tarlak shouted. “Dieredon, put down your bow. Qurrah, outside, now. We have to talk.”

  “No,” Qurrah said. “This elf thinks he can threaten any without worry. The supreme executioner, but he is wrong. There are those better than you, Dieredon. Faster. Wiser. Smarter. You are known only because you have murdered more than they. What have I done that you have not?”

  Dieredon’s eyes narrowed. Tarlak grabbed his bag of spell components, expecting an arrow to let fly at any moment.

  “You seek glory in death,” Dieredon said.

  “Do not lie to me,” Qurrah said. “I am not alone in feeling the thrill of the kill. I fight with fire and darkness, you with steel and arrow. H
ow are we different?”

  “I value life!”

  The whip slipped down Qurrah’s shoulder into his hand. Dieredon’s look was simple: try it and die.

  Before he could, Aurelia stepped between them, her face calm as stone.

  “Put down the bow,” she said. “If you harm him, I will kill you. Fail or not, I doubt you will sleep well with my death on your hands.”

  The string relaxed, and the arrow slipped back into its quiver. Dieredon slung the bow across his back and gestured to the door.

  “I wish to leave. Please do not block my way.”

  Qurrah and Harruq stepped aside, giving him more than a wide berth. The elf glared at both as he left the tower. The door slammed shut, vicious enough that wood splintered.

  “My apologies,” Tarlak said, greeting the half-orc with a handshake. “It seems you have a way with people.”

  “I am used to that,” Qurrah said. “I will do my best to not agitate him further.”

  “The fewer headaches the better,” the wizard agreed. “Besides, this is a happy day. A wedding day! Speaking of such, it is time I started preparing. Forgive me.”

  He dashed up the stairs, a mischievous grin on his face.

  Delysia gave Harruq a kiss on the cheek.

  “We’ll start getting you prepared after lunch,” she told him before following Tarlak. Haern, who had remained calm and seated throughout the whole affair, clapped. When the two brothers glanced over, he grinned at them.

  “You must be insane,” he said. “Few have stared down Dieredon and lived.”

  “Not many have an elf named Aurelia to bail them out,” Aurelia said, kissing Harruq. “Time to put on my dress. You all behave.”

  She turned to Felewen. “Will you help me with my dress?”

  “With pleasure,” Felewen said. Arm and arm, they hurried up the stairs. When they were gone, Haern stood and crossed his arms.

  “Awhile ago, we made a wager,” he said. “He who killed the most thieves would take her hand in marriage.”

  “If I remember correctly, I had thirty-three,” Harruq said, bumping the number up by a couple from what he honestly remembered.

  “And I had thirty-seven,” Haern said. “It appears we have a problem. You would not go back against your vow, would you?”

  “You are such an idiot, brother,” Qurrah said, fighting back a smile.

  “Wait a minute, you can’t marry her just because you got more kills than me!”

  Tarlak came back down the stairs, two different over-extravagant hats in his hands.

  “More kills when?” he asked.

  “On the night Aurelia and your sister were injured,” Haern explained.

  “What did you two finish at?”

  “Haern says he got thirty-seven, while I only have thirty-three,” Harruq said.

  “Really? I finished with thirty-nine. Who do I get to marry?”

  Qurrah laughed at the look on his brother’s face.

  “Delysia,” Haern said, not batting an eye. “Congratulations. When will the wedding be?”

  Tarlak shook his head, taking the two hats back upstairs with him. “You all have problems.”

  Qurrah laughed all the harder. Haern joined him, slapping Harruq across the back.

  “The elf is all yours, half-orc. My sincerest congratulations.”

  Haern left to speak with Dieredon. With Brug still upstairs snoring, that left just the two brothers standing in the entranceway. The mood fell silent, but it was not an awkward silence. The two shared it as brothers do, glad with their company, and knowing much of what the other thought.

  “Never thought it’d come to this, eh?” Harruq finally asked.

  “Never dared hope for it,” Qurrah said. He smiled at his brother. “Your mother would be so disappointed by you, Karak rest her orcish soul.”

  “Amen to that,” he laughed, the tension of the past moments melting away into joy.

  16

  Outside, the chairs were set up, a simple but elegant carpet unrolled between the rows, and all was ready to begin. Only Aurelia, Harruq, and Delysia remained in the tower. The others mingled, ate a bit of food, and shared their stories. Qurrah and Dieredon did their best to remain at opposite sides of the gathering at all times. Tarlak was grateful for small favors.

  Harruq was the first to arrive. His armor was polished, his clothes were clean and crisp, and his cloak flapped behind him in the chill wind. He joined his brother’s side and quietly accepted the compliments on his attire. Delysia followed, gushing about how beautiful Aurelia looked.

  “You remember, this was all my doing,” she told the groom, winking at him. She stood at the end of the carpet, beaming at everyone. She wore her white robes of Ashhur. Her braided hair hung down her back, shimmering with gold lace. She had a youthful beauty, and many eyes lingered on her, including Harruq’s. Then Aurelia made her debut, and his eyes were only for her.

  Around the corner she came, seeming to float across the grass. Rosemary blooms encircled her hair, forming a crown. Her hair hung loose behind her back, though a few braided strands ran down the sides of her face. Earrings of cut sapphires dangled from golden chains in her ears. Her eyes sparkled, highlighted with hints of blue powder.

  A new pendant hung from her neck, thin silver threads looping through its clasp. From one direction, it seemed to be of a spider, yet from the other side, the playful shape of a kitten. The twin illusion was marvelous. The pendant rested just above the swell of her breasts, which were on prominent display due to the low cut of her dress. The dress itself was simple, white, and elegant. She wore a single sash, of a sky color, and no shoes.

  “How do I look?” she asked. Harruq tried to answer, but his jaw refused to budge from its half-open position. Seeing this, Aurelia lifted her arms above her head and twirled.

  “Did I ever tell you how much I envied you?” Tarlak whispered to the half-orc.

  “Touch her and die,” Harruq whispered back.

  “Harruq, Aurelia, are you ready to begin?” Delysia asked.

  “Are you?” the elf asked Harruq.

  “Sure,” he said, his smile huge and contagious.

  “Good.” She pecked him on the cheek. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Although Aurelia had been in charge of the wedding, she did not wish it to be traditional elvish. The fact that a priest of Ashhur, and not Celestia, presided over it spoke much to this fact. In truth, they retained only one element of an elvish wedding, and that was the opening song.

  “The union of souls should always be a beautiful thing,” Delysia said to all in attendance. The girl was gone, replaced by a proud and solemn woman. “So let this ceremony begin with a beauty to both the eye and the ear. Felewen Queneya, let us hear your song.”

  The elf stood, smoothed out the soft blue-white dress she wore, and began to sing. No music accompanied her. No hands clapped along. The only instrument was her powerful voice. Its smooth melody was like the waters of the ocean, rolling from her tongue with a sound that was constant and beautiful. Three hundred years before, she had been taught that song for the funeral of her youngest sibling. Those who heard the words and understood them nodded in understanding and approval. Those who did not, such as Harruq, did not need translation. Their hearts understood.

  Felewen’s song ended, followed by a respectful silence. All gathered there looked upon Delysia as she sliced through the quiet with her voice, carrying with it power and authority.

  “Harruq Tun. A mixed blood, carrying the race of Celestia’s condemned, as well as the blood of her chosen. You have the potential to be everything we fear, and everything we may hope to be. Whatever path you walked before coming to us matters not. The path ahead, I tell all of you, is what matters, and to marry out of love, and to give devotion to a single soul, shows what path you have chosen. Harruq Tun, I offer you my blessing.”

  She smiled and bowed to him. Harruq shifted uncomfortably, glancing more than once at Aurelia. The elf merely smile
d and squeezed his hand.

  “Aurelia Thyne. Many would give all their worldly possessions for such beauty as yours. Many more would sacrifice for the powerful magic you wield. Well known is the elven hatred of the orcish. Every man and woman on Dezrel walks with the taint of sin, and the failure of mortality. Few wear the proof of this upon their face, their skin, and within their bloodline. Fewer still would see the gem beneath. While all here have come to see the worth of Harruq Tun, you have come to love him as only a soul mate can. Aurelia Thyne, I offer you my blessing.”

  The elf smiled as Delysia bowed to her.

  “You make me sound too good to be true,” she whispered.

  The priestess smiled. “Lovers, your rings.”

  Harruq pulled out a small black box from his pocket, while Aurelia levitated a similar box from atop a nearby chair. As one, they opened them. Aurelia’s held a simple silver band. Harruq’s, which he had not opened under Brug’s strict orders, held a much greater surprise. Light burst from the opened box, a soft eruption of colors. Seven orbs of light rose into the sky, sparkling in lavender, blue, gold, green, orange, white, and red. The orbs danced above their heads before taking orbit and bathing them in the colors of the rainbow.

  “You outdid yourself there,” Tarlak whispered to Brug, who sat with arms crossed next to him.

  “Cheap trick’s all it is,” he whispered back. Still, his face held a smug satisfaction as he watched the orbs revolve in the sky, bathing them in waves of light.

  Delysia gave no reaction to the orbs, even though she had been given no warning of the display.

  “Harruq Tun. The ring you hold represents your heart, which you give to your lover for eternal safekeeping. Do you give such sacredness freely?”

  “I do,” he said.

  “And Aurelia Thyne, do you willingly accept his love into safekeeping, for as long as you draw breath?”

  “I do,” she said. At those words, Harruq felt a soaring in his heart.

  “Give your ring to her, Harruq Tun, and know Ashhur watches and blesses your love with his.”

  He took her outstretched hand and slid the ring on her finger. Whirlwinds of feathers tore through his chest. His head felt full of air.