The Cost of Betrayal (4 page)

“More like the black sheep of the family,” Brug grumbled. Delysia swatted him on the head.

“I will trust your judgment, Qurrah,” Aurelia said softly. Qurrah nodded. A flick of his wrist and the whip returned, slithering underneath the arm of his robe. Haern’s sword vanished just as quickly.

“Well,” Tarlak said, rubbing his neck, “glad that is over with. So, I guess I should be the first to welcome you.”

“Honored,” Harruq muttered. He looked about, seeing an angry man storming out of the warehouse, the priestess following him in mid-argument, and no sign of the cloaked one. “Odd mess of a family.”

“Well, we just added two half-orcs and an elf. It seems diversity is now our strong suit. By the way, do you three have names? It helps with the bonding process.”

“I’m Harruq Tun,” the half-orc said. “This here is my brother, Qurrah Tun.”

“And I am Aurelia Thyne,” the elf said, offering a tiny curtsey.

“Wonderful!” Tarlak said. “Follow me. I’ll show you your new home.” He followed Brug and Delysia out the warehouse, not stopping to see if the three followed.

“We really gonna do this?” Harruq asked.

“We have no home, and no lawful standing to be here,” Aurelia said. “Don’t forget, you two have elven blood as well. I see no reason not to give this a try.”

“I can think of plenty,” Qurrah said. He offered none when Aurelia gave him a look.

“Well, off we go then,” Harruq said with a shrug.

T
he road leading from the west gate of Neldaren forked north and south less than a hundred yards from the city. The southern road followed the banks of the Kinel river, leading to a multitude of farming villages beyond. While the southern road traveled for hundreds of miles, the north road was far shorter. The King’s forest surrounded all of northern Veldaren, and built against the southwest curve loomed an old sentry tower. Back when orc armies could still cross the bone ditch, the small stone structure housed a powerful scrying device permanently aimed west. Years ago, the magic of the scrying device had failed, the sentry tower was abandoned, and when an enterprising mage in curious yellow robes offered to purchase the structure, King Vaelor had been more than receptive.

“Welcome to your new home,” Tarlak said, gesturing grandly before the stone edifice.

“It’s, well, a little better than our last home,” Harruq said, staring at the tower in surprise. The building rose far above the tops of the trees, looking like a cylindrical piece of stone growing out of the earth. Twin doors barred entrance inside. Windows marked each floor, which Qurrah counted to be more than six.

Tarlak continued talking, clearly proud of his tower.

“It’s a little drafty come the winter months, but a brilliant man designed the heating, and an even more brilliant man, me, decorated the place and made it livable. By the way, can you all share a room?”

Aurelia’s frown was by far the biggest of the three.

“Excuse me, Tarlak, but if you haven’t noticed, I have some important differences from these fine gentlemen here.”

The wizard laughed. “Yes. Two stand out immediately.”

Aurelia glared. “Do you know any polymorph spells, Tarlak?”

“No, why?”

“Because I do. Another comment like that, and you will have to admire my figure through the eyes of a mudskipper.”

For a long moment, the wizard paused, mulling over the concept with a blank stare.

“Moving on!” he said when finished, marching toward the oak doors. Harruq shook his head.

“Odd guy.”

“He would most likely prefer eccentric,” Qurrah said.

“I’ll go with lecherous,” Aurelia chipped in. The doors creaked open with a rustic sound, and then the three followed the wizard in.

B
eautiful, isn’t she?” Tarlak said, smiling as he led them through the large bottom floor. Filling nearly half of it was a giant wood fireplace, a myriad of pipes stretching out from the top, entering the higher levels of the tower through snug holes in the ceiling. Still in the early stages of summer, there was no need for a fire yet, but Harruq smiled at the thought of spending his first winter warm and cozy, instead of miserably shivering in some rundown home.

On their left, stone stairs wound upward. On the right, split logs were stacked neatly. Two old but sturdy couches faced the fireplace. Next to the couches, a long table stretched from wall to wall. The couches, the drapes over two windows, and the carpet were all a deep, luxurious red. The contrast with the dark stone was sharp, to say the least. Still, the place had an undeniable, simplistic charm. To Harruq and Qurrah, who had lived in total squalor, the place seemed a castle.

“What are all the pipes for?” Aurelia asked, gesturing to the fireplace.

“That is my wonderful brilliance put into action,” Tarlak said, beaming as if the furnace were his own son. “When I first moved in, one large pipe acted as a chimney for the smoke. Now, however, each of the pipes leads to the different levels, heating them all.”

“Where does the smoke go?” asked Harruq.

“Gotta use this,” Tarlak said, tapping his forehead. “I have a few magic spells in me. The heat goes through all the pipes except that big one in the center, which funnels cold air in and smoke out. Trust me, come winter, you’ll be ready to worship me for how toasty my home stays.”

“Your home?” asked Delysia as she came down the stairs. “I do believe it was my money you purchased this place with, dear brother.”

“Our home,” Tarlak said, duly corrected. “After the nasty business with the Citadel, I needed a new place to start. My dear sister here was kind enough to lend a hand.”

Qurrah’s eyes narrowed at mention of the Citadel, but he kept his questions to himself.

“Giving the grand tour?” Delysia asked.

“Of course. I need to show them where they’ll be living. Speaking of, do you think you can share a room with lovely Aurelia here?”

Delysia glanced around Tarlak to look at Aurelia.

“Is that fine with you?” she asked.

The elf shrugged. “Better than rooming with these two lugs.”

“Excellent,” she said, still smiling. “Follow me upstairs. We’ll make room for you while Tarlak gives the boys the rest of the tour.”

“You’re gonna leave us?” Harruq asked as Aurelia stepped around a frowning Tarlak.

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” she replied.

“I would prefer she stay with me, sis,” Tarlak said. A tiny pout crossed his face.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,” Aurelia said, locking her arm in Delysia’s, a huge grin on her face. The priestess laughed and batted her eyelashes at her brother.

“Bye-bye, Oh Great and Wise Eschaton!”

The two dashed up the stairs, leaving an unhappy Tarlak and Harruq watching after them. Qurrah, amused by the whole ordeal, could not keep silent.

“So who exactly is in charge here, the women or the men?”

“The women, just like everywhere else in the civilized world,” Tarlak sighed. “Oh well. Let’s get on with it.”

They followed him up the stairs, which slowly curled about the wall. Tarlak stopped on the first floor, which appeared to be nothing more than a wall and a door less than two feet from the stairs.

“I added walls and doors to give every room some privacy,” he explained. “This is my sister’s, and now your elf girl’s, room. Don’t expect to be inside there much.”

“Same goes for you, I would say,” Qurrah said.

“Quiet you!” Tarlak said, although his voice hardly carried any conviction. “Let’s go to a more interesting floor, shall we?”

The second floor’s door was wide open. When they peered inside, they saw a mess of a place, with pieces of armor littering the floor. Buried underneath a particular deep pile was what appeared to be a bed. Various weapons, axes, swords, and daggers lined the walls. In front of a large grinding wheel in the corner, grumbling to himself, sat Brug.

“Afternoon Brug,” Tarlak shouted. Brug, in the middle of sharpening one of his daggers, startled so badly he fell off his chair and onto his rump.

“Dadgum idjit wizard! I told you not to do that!”

“Precisely why I do,” the wizard beamed. “I want you to meet the newest members of the Eschaton.”

Brug glared over before returning to his stool. “I already met ‘em.”

“Yes, but I would prefer you meet them
without
trying to kill them.”

“Don’t care to.”

“You’ll win him over,” Tarlak semi-whispered to the other two. “He’s always cranky after he gets his ass handed to him in a fight.”

“What did you say?” Brug roared, spinning in his seat so fast it sent him toppling, this time on his head.

“Next floor!” Tarlak said, slamming the door shut and dashing up the stairs.

The next door was shut tight.

“This is my room,” the wizard said. “Nothing exciting here. Next floor!”

W
hen Tarlak stopped at the fifth floor, he turned to the other two, his face serious.

“This is Haern’s floor,” he said. “As a bit of warning, do not enter unless you want an attempt on your life.”

“Say again?” Harruq asked.

“That guy is an assassin, through and through. He likes to sneak up on anyone entering his room. I’ve tried catching him sleeping, eating, practicing. No luck. Had plenty of sabers poked into my back and neck, though.”

He pushed the door open a crack and gestured for them to enter.

“Guests first,” he said.

“How kind,” Qurrah said, shoving the door the rest of the way open. Harruq followed, his eyes searching the corners for the cloaked man. The entire room was barren but for a small chest and a simple bed at one side. There was no sign of Haern.

“Let me know how it goes,” Tarlak said before banging the door shut. Harruq turned and shoved, but could not make it budge.

“I hate this place,” he said. He joined his brother’s side. Other than the bed and the thick curtains over the window, there appeared no place for the man to hide.

“You sure he’s here?” Harruq yelled.

“I’m sure,” came Tarlak’s muffled reply.

“He hones his skills at all times to remain ready,” Qurrah said, methodically searching the room with his eyes. “This is a test. Draw your blades, brother. If he does not obtain the kill with his first strike, he will have failed.”