The Shadows of Grace h-4 Page 2

  She stood, feeling hot jealousy rolling off Qurrah.

  Good, she thought.

  “Will you honor her claim?” Velixar asked.

  “So be it,” Ulamn said. He drew his sword, turned, and beheaded the nearest prisoner. The other eight died just as swiftly. Blood spilled across the ground, pooling together. Ulamn hurled Jerico into it, glaring as it splashed across the paladin’s face, hair, and armor.

  “Be covered in the blood of your better,” he said. “May you reek of it forever.”

  The demons headed to their camps, leaving the three alone with Jerico.

  “Come,” Tessanna said, waving a finger. Jerico’s bound body hovered above the ground and followed the girl into the castle. Qurrah stayed behind with Velixar.

  “You scowl with jealousy,” Velixar said.

  “He should be killed, not coddled,” Qurrah said, crossing his arms and looking away. “Every breath he draws is one too many.”

  Velixar shook his head. “She carries your child, Qurrah. She has given you so much, and now you seethe and glare. You have no trust, no love. She is a seed, and you are the soil, and before my eyes you turn dry and hard. Do not be a fool.”

  He turned and walked inside, leaving Qurrah alone beneath the stars.

  O f all his armor, of all his maneuvers, the best defense Jerico knew was prayer, and so pray he did as Tessanna eyed him, her dagger drawn.

  “Guide me, Lord,” he prayed. “May I trust the dawn to come, no matter how dark the night.”

  “Trust all you want,” Tessanna said. They occupied what had once been the king’s bedchambers, secluded and alone. “The dawn will not come. Not for you.”

  “What do you hope for?” he asked. “What can you possibly obtain? Torture me, beat me, break my bones. Ashhur will take me home, no matter how bruised or bloodied I arrive.”

  “Oh, he will take you,” Tessanna said. “But will you wish to go to him?”

  She clenched the dagger between her teeth and circled him. With surprising deftness she unbuckled the straps to his armor. The heavy pieces of plate mail thudded to the carpet. She shoved his head, and the sudden movement forward made him scream. The demons had removed the spear piercing his side, but they had offered no healing, not even a bandage. The bonds around his arms and hands did well to hold him still, but the open wound bled freely.

  “I smell the blood on you,” she whispered into his ear. Her fingers slipped underneath his arm, pressing against the wound. Jerico held in another scream. He felt her breath on his neck as she whispered words of magic. Light sparked from her fingertips, and to his amazement, the wound closed. He thought to thank her, but that thought died as she leaned closer, her cheek brushing against his.

  “When were you last with a woman?” she asked, brushing her dagger across his throat. She giggled when he refused to answer. “What, no response? No clever comment?”

  She stood and waved her hand. Magical forces shoved his back against the wall. She straddled him, her hands clawing the stone. Again she brushed her face against his, scar to scar.

  “A strong man,” she breathed into his ear. “So strong. It’s been a w hile for you, hasn’t it? Would you take me, if you could? What would your god say about that?”

  “You’re vile,” Jerico said. “May Ashhur one day forgive you.”

  “You won’t counter me with love,” she said. “It’s love I want from you.”

  “What you want is far from love,” Jerico said. He tried to match her gaze, but to his shame could not. Her eyes were so lustful, so yearning. He had prepared himself for pain and torture, but this…

  Jerico shook his head. No, she only offered a different type of torture, one of temptation and mockery.

  “I am not some pet of yours,” Jerico said. “Now bury that dagger in my throat or leave me be.”

  Tessanna laughed. Her hands trickled down his chest, tickling the sides of his abdomen before sliding into his pants.

  “Stop it,” Jerico said, his jaw trembling.

  “You say Ashhur will take you,” she said, her lustful gaze turning dark and hateful. “Will he always forgive you? Even if you betray, even if you soil his name and dirty your spirit?”

  “Ashhur is my light, I will not fear what I cannot see,” Jerico said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He felt his gut churning, hating the way his body responded to her touch. Her hands shifted lower.

  “Ashhur is my light,” he prayed. “Ashhur is my light, I will not fear.”

  “Light,” Tessanna said, her other hand tracing tip of her dagger along his neck. “Light fails, paladin. It leaves you cold and alone, telling you to be happy even though you feel nothing but hate and sadness and despair. That light? You pray to that light?”

  She grabbed his scrotum and pulled, snarling as her lips curled. Jerico screamed at the tremendous pain. Her hand twisted, and he screamed more. His breaths came in shallow gasps. Her touch was ice, her grip like stone. Her face scarred with torment and pain, she jerked again, her other hand clutching his face and forcing him to look her in the eye.

  “You should have been there,” she said. “Been there when he raped me, all the while with a prayer to Ashhur on his lips. I’ve seen the falseness of your kind. I’ve seen your light. It fucked me, Jerico, and whatever it takes I’ll fuck you too.”

  The door opened. Tessanna let him go and stood as Qurrah entered. Shyness stole away her hatred and anger. She put her back to Jerico, her hands clasped behind her as if she were caught by a parent doing something bad.

  “Hello, lover,” she said. “Come to help me play with my pet?”

  “Perhaps some other time,” Qurrah said, his eyes glancing about. He saw Jerico’s pain, but the paladin doubted he could guess the reason.

  “What is it, then?” Tessanna asked.

  “The night is late,” he said. “I’ve found us a place to rest. Will you join me?”

  “Of course.”

  She put away her dagger and took Qurrah’s hand. As they left, Jerico leaned his head against the wall and did his best to ignore the pain.

  “I’m sorry!” he shouted. Tessanna turned, her arm raised defensively and her eyes bewildered.

  “I’m sorry,” he continued. “Whatever his name was, whatever he did to you, I’m sorry.”

  She glared as if stabbed, then left the room without a word.

  “W hat was that about?” Qurrah asked as he closed the door behind them.

  “Just lies,” Tessanna said, apathy stealing over her. “All he knows are lies.”

  “When I came in,” he said, then stopped. She turned to him, knowing his worry.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t love him like I love you.”

  Qurrah led her to a luxurious room reserved for noble guests, all the while thinking how, coming from her, what she had said meant so very little.

  They slept in a luxurious bed with many violet bed sheets. His dreams were bleak, haunted by his brother’s face, always covered with tears. Always, he held the drowned body of his daughter.

  Qurrah awoke to the sound of stirring from the small closet. Tessanna was rummaging through it, casting clothes to the floor. She was naked. Light streamed in through the windows.

  “What are you doing?” he muttered.

  “You lead an army that has conquered a kingdom,” she said, her back to him. “What does that make you, Qurrah? A king? A warlord? Does that make me your queen, Qurrah?”

  “You are finer than any queen,” Qurrah said, sliding out of bed. “Prettier, and far less inbred.”

  “Cute,” she said. “But if I am a queen, then I should dress like one.”

  She pulled out a crimson dress. She smiled, then slipped it over her head. The fabric hung from her skinny body, the sleeves long and elegant. Gold trim lined the hem around the neck, sparkling in the low light. Tessanna flicked her hair behind her shoulders and smiled at her lover.

  “Like?” she asked.

  Her face gorgeous,
her hair long and healthy, her dress thin and sensual and red: Qurrah could only laugh at such a ridiculous question.

  “Of course I do,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

  She tilted her head so that he could see the ear she had cut. Already it had grown back, albeit a little pinker. The five scars on her face had faded, now only sharp lines that added an exoticness to her face. Qurrah was stunned by the rapid rate of her healing. Tessanna was the daughter of a goddess; of that he had no doubt.

  “I won’t cut myself like that again,” she said, suddenly shy and quiet. “I don’t know why I did. Mommy had left me, and breaking, becoming me again, it suddenly felt so terrible. I couldn’t bear it, and you weren’t awake, not yet…”

  “I’m awake now,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “And I’ll always be here for you.”

  “The demons are ready to move out,” she said. “They want to hunt. Velixar has convinced them to leave the elves for later, for when we have more forces. The humans should be far easier prey.”

  “Who will guard the portal should the elves attempt to destroy it?” Qurrah asked.

  The girl shrugged. “Those that continue to pass through. It appears their army is limitless, and perhaps it is. This world is doomed, Qurrah, and I can’t wait until we escape to a new one.”

  He kissed her neck. “Come. Let us survey this army.”

  The two exited the castle to see tents covering the castle courtyard, all waving small banners with a yellow fist. Qurrah shook his head, but was not surprised. He had slept horribly that night, each demon passing through the portal sapping a bit more of his strength. He wondered if Velixar fared any better.

  “Do you know how many?” Qurrah asked.

  “They have almost a thousand,” Tessanna said. “But no more come through the portal. I think Ulamn is nervous.”

  “As he should be,” Velixar said, coming up behind them from the castle. “He knows both of us are sorely taxed. He will bring in no more, not for a few weeks. I think the two of us could both use the rest.”

  “When do we leave for Mordan?” Qurrah asked.

  “Soon,” Velixar said. “But we have a few things to take care of first.”

  He pointed to a group of orcs that made their way among the tents. They were led by their masters, Trummug and Gumgog, and each looked furious.

  “We was lied to!” Gumgog shouted as they neared. “Lied! Lied!”

  “Shaddup, Gumgog,” Trummug said, elbowing the orc before offering a clumsy bow to Velixar. “We not happy, pet of Karak. Not happy at all.”

  “What is the matter?” Velixar asked, his smile condescending.

  “You promised me an army and a kingdom,” Trummug said. “Yet we have nothing.”

  “You raped and burned this city to a shadow of its former self,” Qurrah said, scratching his chin. “Was that not worth your losses?”

  Gumgog heard this and roared with laughter.

  “No, the fighting more than good, lopped off so many heads…”

  “But your new pets, the demons, they do not care,” Trummug said. “They no like Karak. They not listen to us. They claim this city, but what we get? Not going back to the Wedge! We staying here!”

  “Yeah!” the other orcs shouted in unison.

  Velixar turned to his disciple. “What do you suggest?” he asked.

  Qurrah shrugged. “If they want land, give them land. Ulamn and his soldiers only seek to crush the established order to sow chaos. They have no interest in such claims.”

  “Indeed,” Velixar said. He raised his arms to the orc masters and gestured from east to west. “All about are lands, and I give them to you. Bring your brethren in from the Vile Wedge. Swarm the northern plains with your axes! Crush the Green Castle. Burn Felwood Castle to the ground. Neldar is yours.”

  “All of it?” Trummug asked.

  Velixar nodded, a small smile on his face. “All of it.”

  The orcs raised their weapons and cheered. Gumgog led them away, screaming for death and blood. Qurrah watched him go, strangely envious of their careless nature.

  “Ulamn is prepared to move out,” Velixar said, also watching the orcs leave. “His pride is stung from his defeat. He won’t admit it, but he is pushing his troops hard. He wants surprise on his side when they invade Omn.”

  “What hope do they have to stand against this army?” Qurrah asked. “Surprise will mitigate some losses, but it is no matter.”

  “Forget them for now,” Velixar said. “Ulamn is not the only one with an army to raise.”

  The army sworn to Karak camped opposite Thulos’s war demons. Over a thousand undead stood perfectly still, raised from the slaughtered civilians, soldiers, and unfaithful. Filling the western streets were the dark paladins’ tents, each flying a flag of the lion’s skull. In the other direction, smaller, meager tents stood for the hundreds who passed the test of faith. These new converts wandered about with bandages over their hands and gray robes given to them from the storehouses of the priests’ temple. The remaining priests of Karak bunked with them, constantly preaching Karak’s glory.

  “An impressive sight, isn’t it?” Velixar said as they arrived.

  “I wonder how necessary the demons’ help truly is,” Qurrah said. “How many more dead might we add as we march west?”

  “Without the demons, the elves would decimate us as we traveled,” Velixar said. “I have felt the stings of their arrows often enough. We will let Ulamn’s pets deal with them in time.”

  Tessanna curled her arms behind her as she walked among the handless servants, her fingers clasped tight. Velixar had called them the tested, and it made sense enough. Several watched her pass with vacant eyes, but most stared with frightening intensity. One man with messy blond hair and a broken nose accosted her, pressing the stubs of his hands against her arms.

  “His glory,” the tested said, spitting as he talked. “Have you heard his glory? His wondrous glory?”

  “I know of Karak’s glory,” she said. “But do you?”

  “Order among chaos, perfection among the bloodshed!” The tested smiled. “All shall soon know. Pray to him, and you too shall know.”

  “I have seen his order,” Tessanna said, putting her hand on the man’s shoulder. Black lightning sparked from her fingers. The man staggered away, howling like an animal.

  “Tess?” Qurrah asked, hearing the howl and turning to see his lover staring with a cold, seething gaze. She slowly shook her head.

  “Judge trees by their fruit,” she whispered as she neared. “And the only fruit I see is death.”

  Qurrah glanced to see if Velixar heard, but it appeared not. A man dressed in the garbs of high priest had approached him and bowed low.

  “Greetings, hand of Karak,” the priest said. “Welcome to our camp.”

  “I have heard rumors,” Velixar said, not returning the bow. “Rumors of a new high priest to replace Pelarak.”

  “I am he,” the priest said. “Once I was Preston, but now I am Melorak, the name given to me by Karak as I slumbered in the night.”

  Velixar crossed his arms. His ever-changing face scowled at the many other priests who gathered about. By the way they surrounded him he could tell they believed him their leader.

  “Karak whispers to me as well,” Velixar said. “As he always has. Yet I hear not your name, Preston, nor of any new high priest.”

  Preston turned his palms upward. Qurrah frowned at the fake humility on the pudgy man’s face. His cheeks sagged as if he had once been very heavy but lost much of it at a rapid pace. He was bald, and he wore no jewelry or any open sigils to Karak.

  “I do not claim to know Karak’s methods,” Preston said. “But I know he works in mysterious ways. Do you doubt my faith, or the vote of the other priests, hand of Karak? Do you doubt Karak himself, or are you in such a high position that our god must reveal every decision to you for permission?”

  The red in Velixar’s eyes flared bright.

  “You
talk dangerously,” he said, his voice deepening. “I will not have Karak’s victory put at risk. Remember that, for I will be watching you.”

  “Karak watches us both,” Preston said. “And I hold faith in his judgment.”

  Velixar turned away, Qurrah and Tessanna trailing after. Once out of earshot, he began cursing long and loud.

  “That fool,” Velixar said. “I knew I should have killed him while he was still a pup in training.”

  “You still can,” Qurrah said. “He cannot match your power.”

  “The priests would protect him,” Tessanna said. “Though I do not understand why.”

  “Because he has them fooled with his humility and twisted words,” Velixar said. A trio of orcs marching down the street dared pass too near, and Velixar struck them dead with bolts of fire.

  “He speaks half-truths and delusions,” the man in black said, staring at the burning corpses. “All he wants is power. He treats his faith to Karak as a tool. And that name! Only Karak has the authority to give such a name.”

  “What does it mean?” Qurrah asked.

  “Order-bringer,” Velixar said, his hands shaking with rage. “Believed to be the last name Karak will bestow before Mordan is destroyed and all of Dezrel conquered. It is a twisted prophecy. I am his prophet, and never once have I spoken it, but the priests cherish the delusion.”

  “Such anger,” Tessanna said. “The world approaches ruin, and you seethe at a pathetic priest grabbing for power in the last days?”

  Velixar whirled on her, his face freezing into a skull covered by the thinnest stretches of skin. Fire burned within his mouth as he talked.

  “The priests have turned their backs to me time and time again,” he said. “Pelarak was one of the few who heard my wisdom and obeyed, but Ashhur’s lapdogs killed him. Many feel I am a relic from a time long broken. They whisper that I don’t hear Karak’s words, that I seek only control. Hear me; they will rally about Preston as a sign that my time has passed. The tested will follow them blindly. Soon they will turn to the dark paladins.”

  They resumed their walk down the streets. Qurrah looked at the broken buildings, burned roofs and blood-soaked roads. How long ago was it he walked amid bustling streets, filled with mindless chatter and barter? The sight of such desolation stirred his gut. The entire world would soon be likewise. He knew he could not live in such a world. He and Tessanna would have to escape to another, escape from the work of his own hand.