A Sliver of Redemption (2 page)

Of course, there was still the matter of the whip burning into the stone-tough flesh of his neck. He grabbed it with his hand and yanked, sending Qurrah tumbling back down the stairs. The whip released its grip and snaked back to its master like a living thing.

The smoke from the whip blurred Thulos’s vision, and in that momentary distraction he saw sets of white wings come flying in. He crouched down and held up his sword, preparing for an attack. None came. The angels swooped down and yanked his opponents into the air without ever slowing. Thulos sheathed his sword, frowning. Other than wounding the burly warrior, he was yet to score a solid blow, and even he might survive. Only Mira remained, still limp upon the ground.

“They flee!” he shouted to his troops. “Kill the slow! Kill the weak! Let blood rain upon the city, and our victory grow ever greater!”

An angel landed beside Mira, blood seeping from a wound above his right eye. He glanced at Thulos and tensed, waiting for the war-god to lash out and kill him.

“Go,” Thulos said. “She has a message to deliver.”

The angel took Mira into his arms, spread his wings, and fled. Thulos rubbed his neck, disappointment creeping through him. He held little doubt he had faced the greatest heroes this world had to offer, and all they could do was singe his neck and batter his armor. He consoled himself with the fact that the last of his brothers were here, and with their deaths, he could once again ascend to the heavens, reclaiming the power and glory that were his right.

His demons circled in groups, crashing into angels that lingered behind or exposing any openings in their retreat. Every time the battle was quick, bloody, and resulted in the death of either angel or demon. Thulos nodded in appreciation. At least Ashhur had trained and strengthened his army well. It had been years since his demons had fought worthy foes.

His eyes drifted to the fight in the streets. The undead surged forward, no longer oppressed by the human army. Only a few remained, and while they should have been quickly overrun, they were not. Thulos narrowed his eyes, and at the sight of glowing weapons and shining armor, he recognized the warriors of his brother, Ashhur.

“Still up to your old tricks,” Thulos muttered. “I never understood your love affair with paladins.”

He drew his sword and marched toward them, thinking he might have a bit of fun with his brother's champions. They were a beauty to behold, the two of them, especially against their most sworn enemy, the undead. One wielded a giant sword, shimmering as if made of a thick beam of holy light. The other had a hammer and a massive shield that shone brighter than the sun itself. Together, sword and shield, they held firm. Unsure of who commanded the undead, Thulos did not bother to part them, instead cutting a path through the rotting bodies.

The paladin with the sword noticed his approach.

“Uh, Jerico?” he shouted.

“Yeah, Lathaar?” Jerico shouted back.

“Time to go.”

Thulos watched Jerico risk a glance, no doubt seeing him as a towering Goliath of muscle, sword, and armor. The paladins stepped back, cut down the nearest undead, and turned to run. Thulos swore. He was used to people fleeing his presence, but even the champions of Ashhur? Would they hide, denying him the glory of combat and their own honor in death?

“Face me,” Thulos shouted, but his challenge went unmet. Furious, Thulos turned back to the castle. Under normal circumstances he would have given chase, but too much was going on that he didn't understand. Most damning, his portal to his home world was shut. He felt certain the woman named Tessanna was the reason. He couldn’t let her slip away while he chased after a routed army in a selfish desire for combat.

He climbed the steps three at a time, pushed aside the wooden doors to the throne room, and looked about. Tessanna sat by the closed portal, absently running her fingers along the painted wall where it had been. Meanwhile, the laughing man in the corner had finally risen, and he greeted him at the door with a long bow.

“Mighty Thulos,” the man said, his eyes to the ground. “I am your most humble servant.”

“Rise, stranger,” Thulos said. “And tell me your name.”

“I am Velixar,” the man said, standing erect. Thulos wondered for a moment as he saw the man's eyes glow a deep crimson, his facial features slowly shifting and changing. With a wave of his hand, Thulos banished the illusion. He saw Velixar's true face and understood.

“Nothing but a lich,” Thulos said. “I have met your kind before. An annoyance at best. What is it you offer me in your servitude?”

“I am the one who opened the portal,” Velixar said as his shifting face returned. “I am the mouth of Karak, his greatest prophet.”

“Then you are worthy,” Thulos said. He drew his sword and saluted, for he would bow to no man. “Consider yourself an honored member of my guard. If you hear the voice of Karak, then I have much to discuss with you.”

His eyes hardened.

“Especially over the matter of his cowardice and departure.”

“Matters he is eager to discuss as well,” Velixar assured him.

Thulos sheathed his sword and turned to Tessanna, who appeared oblivious to his presence. Behind him, he heard one of his war demons land, ready with word of greeting and report of casualties. He held up a hand, silencing him, his eyes never leaving the strange woman. He walked over, spun her around, and flung her against the wall.

“How dare you close the portal!” he said, grabbing her hair and forcing her to look at him. To his surprise, she showed no fear, only anguish and sorrow.

“I am barren,” she said, her voice strangely void of all emotion. “I have no power. Mother has forsaken me for doing what even she cannot forgive.”

“You lie,” Thulos said. “Open it now, or I will cut your head from your neck.”

Tessanna smiled at him as tears ran down her face.

“Do it,” she said. “Strand yourself here. You have none who can return you home. This world is not like the others you've conquered. Mother protected it from you, protected it even from me. Even Velixar can't open the way.”

She gasped when he tightened his grip and glared death.

“Mother?” Thulos said, a look of distaste crossing over him. He dropped her, repulsed by her tears. How one as her could possess such powerful magic was beyond him.

“My lord,” the war demon at the door said. “We request orders. Ashhur's army retreats west beyond the walls. Do we give chase?”

Thulos tore his eyes from Tessanna and turned to his soldier.

“No,” he said. “We are out of supplies and reinforcements. Every action we take must be careful and controlled. Until I know this world and the dangers it offers, we solidify our position here. Besides...” He turned to Velixar. “I have much to discuss.”

Velixar smiled, while in a corner of the room, Tessanna curled into a ball and sobbed.

2

Q
urrah sat alone in a small tent, his hands probing the damp earth as his mind looped an endless replay of the past few weeks. He was supposed to have been a father, their child a gift given to Tessanna and him by Karak, god of everything wretched and dark. Then the birth, and the revealing of the lie. He shuddered, wanting to remember nothing of that long night, the blood, the sweat, and the still, still shell that was his daughter. Teralyn, his beloved had named the corpse...

“Qurrah?”

He glanced up, wiping away his tears. There were no torches or campfires nearby for light, but both the orcish and elvish blood in his veins granted him excellent vision in the darkness. When he saw the sleek figure sliding into his tent, her beautiful green dress rippling in the moonlight, he knew his tears would be seen by Aurelia's keen elven eyes. He said nothing, though he had much he wished to say. He knew so little of her. She was his brother's wife and, in a distant time, a friend. Now she was a stranger, wounded and tired.

“Harruq will be fine,” she said, breaking the silence as she crossed her legs and sat across from him. Outside the tent, the angels guarding him shuffled, their weapons clacking against their armor.

“He has certainly endured far worse before,” Qurrah said.

“You could say that,” Aurelia said, and Qurrah felt a stab in his gut. How many of his brother’s scars bore his name, scrawled with whip and dark magic? The elf saw the brief flash of pain in his eyes and quickly apologized.

“He told me what happened,” she said, tucking errant strands of hair behind her ear. Her eyes refused to meet his. “Of what you wanted, and what he did. You have a good brother, Qurrah.”

“And you a good husband.”

Aurelia smiled again, a weak smile.

“Why is Tessanna not with you?” she asked.

Qurrah opened his mouth, a lie on his tongue. He closed it, and another lie replaced it in his heart. He brushed both away, and spoke freely to the woman he had so deeply hurt.

“Tessanna gave birth to a stillborn,” he said. “It broke me. I never could have anticipated such pain. And as I held that small, lifeless form, I knew a shred of what I had done to you. Guilt is a funny thing, Aurelia. I had never felt it before, and when it came upon me, I was a wretched child lost in confusion and self-pity. I waited in Veldaren for my brother, for I wanted him to kill me. Dying was preferable to living with the guilt I felt. Tessanna figured as much, and was furious at my cowardice.”

He felt more tears growing in his exhausted eyes. The gods damn it all, he was tired of crying, and tired of hiding it every time he did. He let his tears fall and his lower lip quiver.

“I saw no other way, Aurelia. You have to understand. I thought it would do him good, that maybe he could cut my throat, and the blood would cover some of the pain you two felt. But he didn't. He forgave me. For all of it. I didn't need blood or penance, he just...let it go.”

He fell silent. Aurelia huddled her knees to her chest and pressed her shaking fist to her mouth. She stared at him, taking in every movement he made, every twitch of his eyes, every sad, whispered word.

“Harruq said he forgave you,” she said. “Did I ever say the same?”

Qurrah shrugged and stared her in the eye.

“Years ago, when you two married, I told my brother I was proud of him, and that he’d found an excellent bride. I meant those words. I still do. Please, Aullienna was...”

“Don't,” Aurelia said. She stood, her shoulders stooped and her head bowed by the low fabric of the tent. “Just...don't. Not tonight, not while my husband lies bleeding and bedridden with fever.”

She stepped outside, whispered something to the angel guard, and then glanced to Qurrah, who did not look back.

“The others want you executed,” she said. “I'm not sure Harruq can stop them.”

“Will you stop them?” Qurrah asked. The quiet stretched out longer and longer.

“Good night, Qurrah,” she said, slipping away.

It was the answer he deserved, he knew.

T
hulos looked upon the city from the castle doors, his skin cold marble in the bright moonlight. Velixar stood beside him, quiet and attentive. Thulos had summoned him to listen, and so he would.

“I cannot hear my brothers,” Thulos said, his eyes watching the land beyond the walls where the distant army of Ashhur camped. “Either of them. But you say you hear Karak's voice, and so I speak to you, in hopes that through you he may speak to me.”

The wind blew. Velixar heard Karak whisper for him to hold his silence. In time, Thulos resumed.

“I will tell you much, mortal, so that you may understand what it is I came for, and why it is I seek your lord. I need you to understand, to ensure Karak hears the truth.”

Thulos gestured to the stars above.

“Every one of them holds a single world filled with life. Celestia was the first to create such a place, and I was among the other gods, jealous of her beautiful creation. So we scattered, with the blessing of He Who Judges. We were all mirrors of his glory, but Celestia seemed special, elevated somehow. We created similar lands, for we only sought Celestia's splendor, not knowing how to create it on our own. When she created man, we did the same. But hers were the first, ours just shallow, imperfect imitations.”

Thulos drifted off, his mind in times far beyond their own. Velixar waited, glad for the chance to absorb what he’d heard. Karak had whispered to him of other worlds, but never had he heard of their creation, nor mention of He Who Judges. Did gods themselves also have gods?

“I created men, much as Celestia did,” Thulos continued several minutes later. “I armed them with weapons, and I opened a door to her world and let them through. My pets killed every shred of life. It was petty jealousy, nothing more, and I have forever carried the shame of that single, human moment. As punishment I was banished to my own world. Celestia created elves to heal the destruction, and in turn, the others of my kind copied her creation. She hoped the elves’ docile nature would allow her to rest, and in this she was correct.”

“You created man, and shaped worlds, yet here you stand before me in flesh and blood?” Velixar dared ask. “Why did you not wave your hand and dismiss those you fought today, and with a word split their very beings to water and dust?”

“Wave my hand?” Thulos said, a hint of anger giving life to his words. “Deny combat to a foe, however unworthy? What do skill and strength matter, what do
I
matter, if I render all need of such things pointless?”

He dismissed Velixar with a shrug of his head.

“You are too ignorant to understand. You crave only victory, not the battle itself. Karak has certainly fallen far if you are his wisest pupil.”

Velixar accepted the stinging rebuke, knowing he should have stilled his tongue. The minutes crawled as again Thulos seemed to dig deep into a memory spanning thousands of years, searching for words to attach to moments that shaped entire worlds.

“Besides,” Thulos said at last. “I can no longer do so. I am not a proper god, not as I once was. Neither is Karak or Ashhur.”

“How is that possible?”

“I came to Him,” Thulos said. “Told Him what I would do. The men of my world were ruthless, vile, and ignorant. I hovered outside it, peering in, and I felt that was the flaw. With His blessing, I shattered myself. Once we were Kaurthulos, all one, but afterward we were Ashhur and Karak, Kirm and Ra, Thulos and Verae, gods of Justice, Mercy, War, Order, Death, Life...”

He shook his head.

“I left the outside. I left all my power, and to the mortal world I fell. In time, I saw my error. The world was no better. Now my creations were divided, battling over worship of my various incarnations, putting one virtue higher than another, as if Justice were at war with Order, or Life in eternal conflict with Mercy. As Thulos, I was everywhere, for I was War. As my power grew, I slew my brothers, prism refractions of my own being. Each time, I felt myself returning to wholeness. But then Karak and Ashhur fled here, to the world they once helped destroy. Tell me, Velixar, what happened here, after my brothers denied me my right to ascend, to look from the outside once more and wield all of my divine power?”

“Karak and Ashhur created man, and then through man, waged war against each other,” Velixar said. “Celestia imprisoned both, and so my master has called out to you. He wishes to be freed from his cage, to campaign at your side.”

Thulos chuckled, the deep sound frightful in the night.

“I'm not sure that is possible. I wish to be whole. This conquest across the stars, it is merely preparation. We were told of a time when He Who Judges would view our creations, preserving for eternity those he deemed good, and casting into fire forever those he considered ill-wrought and vile. I seek to gather the power of all the stars, all the worlds, and all the gods, and in a loud voice declare to Him that
all
is good, and that I accept no judge. I do not need Karak as an ally. I need him to return to me, so we may be whole once more.”

“You ask his death,” Velixar said, his heart surrounded by the creeping feeling of betrayal.

“I ask his atonement,” Thulos said. “Does a stream die when it joins a river?”

Velixar listened for Karak's answer, but none came to his ears. Thulos waited, saw he would be given no answer, and then swore in a language Velixar knew nothing off. A massive fist slammed into the stone of the castle. Cracks ran in all directions.

“How do I free them from their prison?” Thulos asked.

“Celestia must be defeated,” Velixar said. “She gains her strength from the health of this world. Burn its trees, poison its rivers, and kill off her elves. We will find a way.”

“Pray to your god you are right,” Thulos said, trudging back into the castle. “And pray you both understand the inevitable future that awaits you.”