2
Months later, Harruq awoke at the dawn, jerking upward and uttering a sharp gasp. A constant cry of danger rang in his ears. A quick survey showed he slept alone in their small shed, his brother missing.
“Qurrah?” he dared ask.
“Outside,” came Qurrah’s muffled reply.
Harruq stretched, pushed away a plank of wood from the window, and climbed out. The sun was halfway visible, the standard noises of the city only in their infancy. Leaning against the shed, his eyes staring off toward the sunrise, waited Qurrah.
“What are you doing out here?” Harruq asked.
“Did you sense it?” Qurrah asked.
“Sense what?”
The smaller half-orc shook his head.
“If you must ask then you did not, at least not directly, though I did hear you startle awake. Perhaps a fleeting glimpse of it…”
“Qurrah,” Harruq said, crossing his arms and frowning at him. “What is this about? Tell me.”
“Remember the necromancer we witnessed at the siege?” Qurrah asked. “It is him. He has haunted my dreams lately, and today he whispered the name of a place I have already researched for my own purposes. I think we are being guided, though I dare not pretend to know why.”
Harruq shifted, the dark expression on his brother’s face making him uncomfortable.
“What’s the place?” he asked.
“It is where our mother came from,” Qurrah said. “A town called Woodhaven. Well, two towns really, Celed and Singhelm. They have since grown together and merged. It is an interesting place, Harruq, where elves and men live together, each in their respective parts of the city. Their tolerance of other races is, obviously, a necessity. I have thought to take us there.”
“Why do we need to leave?”
“Your work is almost done,” Qurrah said. “The walls are repaired, and half the men who worked with you have already been cut loose. I, however, have much to learn but cannot do so here because of prying eyes and attentive ears. I need privacy. I need silence.”
“What for?” Harruq asked.
“No,” Qurrah said. “Don’t ask when you full well know the answer.”
At this Harruq nodded. Yes, he did know. Over the past few months, he had killed seven men and carried their bodies to his brother.
“I still have at least a week,” Harruq said. “Give me until then, alright? We could use the money.”
“I have saved much of what you earned,” Qurrah said. “We will be able to eat, not well, but enough to live.”
“If you say so,” Harruq said. “Good luck with your, uh, studies. I have a wall to finish building.”
“Stay safe,” Qurrah said, offering a small wave as his brother trudged north. When he was gone, the smaller half-orc slipped back into the shed, removed a false floorboard, and grasped a small pouch containing various herbs, bones, and knives. Reaching back in again, he took out an object wrapped in sackcloth and soaked in blood. A knife in hand, he opened the pouch and closed his eyes. His mind attuned, he carved into the remains of a man’s heart.
On his way back home, the threepence jingling in his hand, Harruq spotted a patrol of guards approaching. He glanced to the right, where the small alley led back to their shed. If he hurried, he might be able to make it before they noticed…
He was halfway down the alley when he heard a voice call out.
“Hey!”
Harruq kept going. He was used to harassment and verbal abuse from the guards. Once out of sight, though, he was usually out of mind. He relied on that as he turned a corner into the small space around their shed. Qurrah, who had been resting on the shallow grass, hurried to his feet at Harruq’s approach.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing, but you might want to hide in there. Quick!”
“I will do no such thing,” Qurrah said.
“I said hey!” shouted the same man. Harruq stepped in front of Qurrah and then turned, staring down a group of five heavily armored guards. Swords and clubs hung from their belts, though a fifth carried a weapon neither of them had ever seen before. It was a wooden stick with a bulbous gem on one end.
“You stop when asked or pay the price,” said one of the guards.
“If he can even understand us,” said another.
“We understand perfectly,” Qurrah said, stepping to one side. “What has my brother done to warrant your attention?”
“We’re on a quest,” said the man wielding the strange weapon. He had a stubbly beard and a hooked nose with a thick scar along the top. “A great quest from the king, you could say. We’re to rid scum from the city, elven scum. You know what I think? I think elves can look like anything. They’re devious little pricks like that, and you two seem rather ugly and devious, don’t you all agree?”
The other guards laughed and shouted in agreement. They had spread out, flanking the half-orcs on all sides. The leader stepped forward and gestured with his weapon.
“You know what this is? This detects elves, and every elf I find I get to politely escort out of the city. Oh, and their possessions, well, obviously they were stolen. That coin you got there, you might as well hand it over before I take it.”
Qurrah glared while Harruq clutched the coins tighter and fought down his anger. He glanced back to the shed, cursing his idiocy for not retrieving his weapons while he had the chance.
“The coin,” demanded a guard to their right. “Hand it over.”
“No,” Harruq said.
The leader rammed his fist into the half-orc’s face. Harruq staggered but held his ground. Blood ran down his face, and he spat some away from his mouth. He waited for another punch, but nothing came. The man was staring in total disbelief at the weapon he held. As he had stepped closer to punch, the gem at the end had shimmered a soft green.
“Of all the dumb luck,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “We got some real elves here!”