The Death of Promises (20 page)

“How have they not been conquered by the other tribes?” Qurrah asked.

“That is the mystery,” Velixar said. He licked his lips. “Somehow they have held off any and all attacks. The other tribes talk of how a goddess protects them. This sort of blasphemy is dangerous, my disciple. It changes the order of things and renders the land even more chaotic. Follow me. We will show them their place.”

Velixar walked down the hill, his arms held at his sides in an apparent gesture of peace. Guards lined the exterior of the camp, and when they spotted him they raised a ruckus in their native tongue. Orcs flocked together. Qurrah and Tessanna approached, hand in hand. The half-orc had never felt more conscious of his gray skin. He could feel his tainted blood coursing within him, and for the first time he saw their civilization.

“I could have been their god,” he whispered. “Their deity.”

“And I could be a goddess in any place I choose,” Tessanna whispered. “But that is not my place in this world, and these huts are not yours.”

A wall of spears surrounded them. Velixar halted, his hands still held high and wide. His hood had fallen low to cover his eyes, but beneath lingered his smile. Beyond the ring of orcs Qurrah saw women holding their young, watching. He was shocked when he realized many of them were praying.

A particularly large orc broke through the ring and shouted at Velixar in the orcish tongue. The man in black laughed and then spoke back in the same guttural language. The orc seemed surprised at this, and began questioning those around him.

“What is going on,” Qurrah asked.

Before Velixar could answer, the big one turned toward the giant tent and shouted the same word three times.

“Darnela! Darnela! Darnela!”

“Darnela?” Tessanna asked.

“At last I understand,” Velixar said, his grin growing. “An elf priestess of Celestia came and tamed them. She’s filled their head with dogma of forgiveness and pathetic begging in hopes of revoking of their orcish blood. Keep ready, both of you. I find it unlikely we will get along.”

In the distance they saw a sleek feminine form exit the main tent. She wore a cloak made of wolf skin. Her tunic and breeches were made of leather. She carried a scepter in one hand and a jeweled sphere in the other. She seemed a strange cross of elf and orc, elegance and roughness. All throughout the camp, orcs parted to grant her passage, bowing their heads as she passed.

“She’s beautiful,” Tessanna said.

“Yes,” Velixar said. “And as dangerous as she is beautiful. I know this one. She has changed her name since we last met.”

Qurrah felt his whip curling on his arm, bits of flame flickering from it even though he gave it no such order. Tessanna chewed on her fingernails as the girl approached. She had long hair, so long that it floated past the small of her back and beyond the length of her wolf head cloak. It was a dark brown, the same color as her eyes. When she saw Velixar, a frown marred her beautiful face. The last of the orcs parted, and she stood before the trespassers to her camp.

“Greetings, Fionn,” Velixar said, bowing low. “It has been too long since we last met.”

The scepter shook in the elven priestess’s hand.

“I am Darnela now,” she said. “Do you bring your war and hatred to my orcs? They seek peace, dark prophet, and forgiveness from the goddess. We are not interested in whatever sins you bring.”

“Your name used to be beautiful and pure,” Velixar said, ignoring her question. “Yet you now claim a name meaning war and anger, all while preaching peace to the orcs, Celestia’s cursed and abandoned?”

Qurrah winced as the whip tightened so much that his fingers tingled from the pressure. He dared not remove it, though, not with so many orcs with spears and swords desperate to attack.

“Be gone,” she said. “Karak’s taint is leaving their blood. We all see it plain as day.”

“Indeed,” Velixar said. Still grinning. “The…taint…is leaving.”

Darnela took a step closer, glaring at the visage beneath the black hood.

“I swore to kill you, and I did,” she said. “Celestia forgive me for thinking you would give Dezrel a gift and stay dead. Now leave.”

“Qurrah,” Velixar suddenly shouted. “Show our beautiful hostess here your weapon.”

Slowly the half-orc let the whip uncurl and fall into his hand. The leather pooled upon the grass and then burst into flame. He watched Darnela’s face, and he saw her rage grow. All around, the wall of orcs grew larger as guards from every corner of the camp gathered.

“I also made a promise,” Velixar said. “I would use your husband’s whip to return the favor for what you did to me. But not yet. You think these orcs your pets? You think they believe what you feed their minds? I speak the truth, Darnela, and even these shallow beings can feel and understand that.”

He turned his back to her and gestured to the crowd. His voice boomed impossibly loud, every word he spoke thundering in the ears of those who heard.

“Orcs of the wedge, hear me! I am Velixar, and I speak with the voice of Karak himself!”

“Silence,” Darnela shouted. The man in black turned and glared at her. For a moment they stared, their eyes locked. When the priestess did not attack, Velixar continued his shouting. Qurrah noticed he shouted in the common tongue of man, yet the orcs appeared to understand.

“What you have been told is true. You were once elves. You were cursed by the elven goddess, but that curse did not make you what you are today! Karak gave you the strength that saved you from extinction. Karak bound you together for war, and through him you crushed your enemies and fought for a place in this world. You feel that strength fading now, don’t you? It is Celestia who cursed you, Celestia who abandoned you, and now you cry out to her like a dog licking the boot that just kicked it?”

All around orcs began shouting, some in defiance of what he said, others in response to their old bloodlust stirring. As Qurrah looked around, he could see Velixar spoke truth. Few orcs were as muscled as the orcs he had watched assault Veldaren years ago.

“Do not listen,” Darnela shouted, magically strengthening her own voice as well. “He is a speaker of lies, a preacher of death. He would make you kill for his own gains, and when you died he would bring back your bones to fight again. He is chaos, he is slaughter, and he is the reason your kind was first cursed by the goddess!”

More shouting, more posturing with crude weapons. Tessanna clutched tightly to Qurrah’s waist as she glanced about.

“I’m scared,” she said, her face buried into his shoulder.

“Just stupid beasts with sticks,” Qurrah told her. “You can defeat every one of them with a lift of your finger.”

“But they’re all scared,” she said. “They’re hurt, they’re confused, and they don’t know what to believe. The goddess weeps for them, Qurrah, can’t you hear it?”

“I come offering what your kind has always embraced,” Velixar continued. “I offer you war against those who drove you to this wretched land. You act as if your blood is a curse, but I call it a boon. Embrace your strength! Embrace your bloodlust! Darnela seeks only to pacify you and make you weak!”

“He lies!” Darnela shouted.

“Remember her own lessons! Let them show my truth! She wanted you to throw down your weapons, end your fighting, and turn away from all you once knew. You are a stone’s throw away from being massacred by wolf-men, hyena-men, even the weakest of the goblin tribes. The elves have always wanted you dead. They know they cannot do it in war. But if they poison you from within? Look at yourselves, warriors of Karak, look at yourselves!”

Tessanna began to weep as a deep rumbling swept the camp. Darnela herself sensed the change. She had worked valiantly to redeem the souls to the goddess. She had preached over and over forgiveness and humility. And now, at the booming words of the man in black, it would crumble.

“You will die one day,” the elf said to him. “And when that day comes I hope to look down from Celestia’s paradise and laugh at your torment in the fire and darkness.”

“Should that day come,” Velixar said, his voice back to its normal volume, “I will rule as a prince. And even there I will seek to break the will of the goddess and storm your wretched home.”

“Make them stop,” Tessanna whimpered. “Please, Qurrah, make them stop.”

“You will be buried underneath a wave of those you sought to make docile,” Velixar said. He smirked at Darnela’s anger. “Fitting, don’t you agree?”

The priestess slammed her scepter and orb together. Flames consumed both, and a yellow pillar of fire fell from the sky. Orcs scrambled away as the pillar consumed her, swirling about her body as she prayed ceaselessly to her goddess.

“Kneel to me,” Velixar shouted. “All who bow and confess their lives to Karak will live. Those who refuse will die by my hand!”

Dark magic swirled around his hands. He kissed the air as Darnela prepared her assault.

“Hold yourself together,” Qurrah said, grabbing his lover by the arms. “What is the matter with you?”

“No!” Tessanna screamed, shoving him aside. She leapt in between Velixar and Darnela. Her right hand faced the elf, the left pointed directly at the man in black. She looked each in the eye as the orcs cried out in anger and confusion. Pure magical essence curled around her fingers, throbbing with her heartbeat.

“If either of you moves I will leave nothing but dust for the wind to spread,” she said. Wisps of black smoke floated from the corners of her eyes.

“Of course, my lady,” Velixar said, seeming unsurprised by her actions.

“Are you mad, girl?” Darnela asked. Her hair danced inside her pillar of fire. “Do you know what he is? You travel with him, yet still defy his will?”

“I don’t need to know,” she answered. “Let those who believe Velixar’s words leave your camp in peace. The rest may stay under your command. Is this clear?”

“I accept your proposal,” Velixar said, bowing. “Not your command.”

For the first time a bit of anger flickered in his eyes, but Tessanna was unconcerned. She looked to the elf as the magic on her fingers crackled with dark lightning.

“Do you accept?” she asked her.

“You are a disgrace to the goddess,” Darnela said, her jaw clenched tight. “But I will accept. Take the faithless and go.”

Velixar looked around the camp. Almost half the orcs knelt, their heads bowed as the others nearby beat them and cursed the prayers they prayed. The man in black lifted his hands and called out to them.

“Come east, children of Karak. Abandon your weakness, for it is your blood that shall unite the tribes against Neldar!”

Hundreds of orcs took up their possessions and did as they were told. Tessanna remained between the two powerful casters until the stream of orcs had fully left the camp.

“I will see you again, Darnela,” Velixar said as he bowed. “I still have a favor to repay you.”

The priestess only turned and stormed off, the pillar of flame dissipating into fading embers in the air. When she was far enough away, Tessanna closed her hands and let go of the spells she had prepared. Velixar immediately grabbed her by the wrist.

“We will talk,” he said, his red eyes seething.

“I know,” she replied almost casually. He let her go and stormed away. Qurrah took her in his arms, holding her as her resolve vanished.

“Shush,” he said, stroking her hair as he guided her east. “You did no wrong here.”

“I know,” she said, drying her tears against his robe. “But I risk what we have when I do this. He needs me, and he needs you, but he’s patient, Qurrah. So patient, so dangerous.”

“Why’d you do it, then?” he asked her. She looked up to him, kissed his lips, and then held his hand as they walked. She did not answer.

“Very well,” Qurrah said. “I do not need to know the reason. I will still defend your choice to my death.”

“I know,” she said, gripping his hand tighter. “But it’s good to hear you say it anyway.”

V
elixar was no stranger to leading armies, especially one made of orcs. They had little supplies, no food, and over three hundred mouths to feed. If they were to survive, they had to pillage. He marched throughout his small army, shouting and encouraging. He knew he needed a warchief, so he looked for the biggest and the strongest. He found his perfect candidate in a one armed mountain of muscle named Gumgog. His eyes were yellow, and his nose flattened upward like a pig.

“Celly wanted us to be nice,” he said when Velixar asked why he left Darnela’s camp. “Gumgog don’t like to be nice. Gumgog like smashing, so you let me smash, me lead like you say.”

Velixar grinned, liking the orc already. Where his arm had once been was now a giant club with a stone tied to the end. To call attention to himself, Gumgog took the second ‘arm’ in his other hand and used his entire body to slam it to the ground.

“GUMGOG SPEAK!” he shouted, and all around orcs quit their squabbles to listen. Velixar laughed. He had traveled with several warchiefs, some appointed by him, others already in power when he enlisted their service. He easily liked Gumgog the most.

“We going to the Mugs,” Gumgog shouted to the three hundred. “We going to make them help us, maybe swear allegiance to us. Then we go to the Duns and the Glushes, and make them do the same! We make an army, and we follow the human in black. All hear me?”