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“Harruq, have you killed before?” she asked.

The half-orc opened his mouth and then closed it. A boy’s face flashed before his eyes.

You’re an orc, aren’t you?

“Yes,” he said at last. “I’ve killed.”

He eyed Aurelia, desperately wishing to know what she thought yet unable to figure out why he even cared.

“Tell me of the first time,” she said.

He shook his head. “Not today. Maybe some other session, if I feel I can.”

They both stood, Aurelia stepping away while Harruq stretched and popped his back.

“Goodbye Harruq,” she said.

The elf was almost past the trees when he spoke. “Hey, Aurelia?”

“Yes, Harruq?” she said, turning to face him.

“Have you ever killed?”

She paused, and then ever so slightly nodded. The two parted without another word.

W hat did you learn this time?” Dieredon asked as Aurelia arrived at their designated spot in the forest.

“Something is wrong,” she told him. “He’s kind-hearted, even goofy. He takes to his swordcraft with almost perfectionist precision. Everything else he does is for fun or survival.” Aurelia sighed and rubbed her hands across her face.

“It could all be an act,” Dieredon ventured. “Or just a part of his whole self. Perhaps you see the elf in him. There are multiple sides to all men, for only the insane and the dull contain just one facet to their being. It could be Harruq’s orcish side that pushes him to kill the children.”

She nodded at the possibility. “I will defer to your wisdom. The more time I spend with him, the more I wonder. What about you? What have you learned?”

Dieredon’s face darkened. “His brother worries me. I have seen him conversing at night with a strange man.”

“Strange?” she asked. “How so?”

He chuckled. “It may sound odd, but I can see his eyes. They burn like fire. He dresses himself in the black robes of a priest, and I cannot find his tracks come the morning. That doesn’t happen, Aurelia. If it moves, I can track it. And I can’t find a thing.”

“These two brothers are certainly a mystery,” Aurelia said.

“When will you meet this other brother?” Dieredon asked.

“Qurrah?” Aurelia shrugged. “When Harruq is ready for us to meet.”

“Very well. I will continue tracking them. There have been no murders for the past few days. It seems our warnings have worked, for now.”

Aurelia smiled. “Praise Celestia for that. May she watch over you, Dieredon.”

“And you as well, Aurelia Thyne,” he replied.

C lear your mind,” Velixar said to his apprentice. “Let the emptiness give you comfort.”

The wind blew, swirling cold through his ragged clothes. Velixar watched his apprentice take several deep breaths.

“For this spell to work, you must have a significant idea in mind,” he said. “Make it bleak and vile. If you are to darken someone’s dreams your own mind must be just as dark.”

Qurrah breathed out, his eyelids fluttering as a memory surfaced in his meditation.

“Send the image to me, my apprentice. Let me have the anger, the darkness, and the despair.”

Velixar lurched backward as the memory rammed into his mind. Qurrah was unpracticed, and his delivery brutal. Still, the vision did come, clouded and chaotic.

A gang of children slept on a stack of hay. They were filthy, scrawny, and sick with disease. A small rat crept near, its mouth covered with flecks of white foam. When close enough, it latched onto the hand of the biggest child, who awoke screaming. Time distorted so that days passed as that scream lingered. His face paled, his mouth foamed, and then he died, screaming, still screaming.

T he vision ended. Velixar opened his eyes.

“What is it that I saw?” he asked.

“The second time I ever killed,” Qurrah said. “I watched that wretched bully succumb to madness from the disease carried by an undead rat. He took something I made for my brother, and I made him pay dearly for it.”

The man in black nodded, going over the memory in his mind.

“Could be darker, though,” he said. “You need not use memories, but they are easier to project. Any thought can be sent to those who slumber. After you have practiced, we will try with images you created on your own.”

The half-orc pulled his robes around him and looked back to the city. “When will we assault Woodhaven?” he asked.

Velixar’s face was an unmoving stone. “When did I say we would?”

“When we first met,” Qurrah said. “The cooperation between the races needed ending. If we are to destroy our home, I must know when.”

Then Velixar did something completely unexpected. He laughed.

“It will not be our hands that destroy Woodhaven,” Velixar said. “King Vaelor will do so for us, starting a war that will give us the dead we need.”

“How?” Qurrah asked.

The fire burned in Velixar’s eyes, deep with anticipation.

“I will darken his dreams, just as I have shown you. He is a cowardly man, and fears the elves already. I played a large part in his banishing the elves from his city. But after I move he will want them gone from all his lands, including here.”

The man in black gestured to the city nestled against the forest.

“This city has long been treated neutral even though it resides within Neldar’s border. The elves will not take kindly to removal from a home many have lived in since before our dear king’s grandparents were alive.”

“I eagerly await the bloodshed,” Qurrah said. He bowed to his master.

“Go. The night is young. Taint the dreams of the slumbering.”

Qurrah left Velixar to sit alone before the fire. The dark night sang a song of crickets and wind. Even in the quiet, Dieredon entered the light of the fire without alerting the man in black.

“Greetings, traveler,” the elf said, bowing. “The town is not far, and all are welcome. Would you not sleep in safety rather than in the wild?”

Velixar looked at the elf, dressed in camouflaged armor and holding his wicked bow.

“You are a scoutmaster for the Quellan elves, are you not?” he asked.

“I am. And you have remained outside our village for several days yet vanish with the morning sun.”

“Have I done something wrong?” Velixar asked.

Dieredon frowned, noticing the subtle yet constant changes to the man’s facial features. His instincts cried out in warning. This man was dangerous.

“Children have been dying in our forest, all found horribly butchered,” Dieredon said.

“As you can plainly see, I am nowhere near the forest,” Velixar said. His voice was calm, disarming. Dieredon did not buy it.

“Give me your name,” he said.

“Earn the privilege,” Velixar countered. The elf’s arms blurred, and then the bow was in his hands. He pulled no arrow, though, for he held the weapon much like one would hold a staff.

“Leave this place,” Dieredon ordered as two long blades snapped out of either side of the bow and many spikes punched out the front. The man in black rose to his feet, an aura of death and despair rolling out from him.

“You should not threaten those who can rip the bones from your body with a thought,” he said, his voice dripping with venom.

“And you should not threaten an elf who can tear out your throat before a single word of a spell may pass through your lips. Go. Now.”

“As you wish,” Velixar said, giving a low, mocking bow. Then he was gone, fading away like smoke on a strong wind. Dieredon sprinted back to Woodhaven, knowing that the darkness was no longer safe to him.

6

O ne sword came from above, aiming for her shoulder, while the other thrust low. The staff twirled, batting the thrust to one side. Aurelia spun. The downward strike sliced the air an inch from her arm. She continued the turn, her staff whirling. The swords sliced back, trying to block, but they were too slow. The staff cracked against Harruq’s forehead.