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elf,” said one of the guards.
    Harruq coughed at this. The woman saving him was an elf? Had the world turned upside down?
    “Oh really?” Aurelia said. “How sad.”
    “We said go, now, or else.”
    “Or else what?”
    The sword point left Harruq’s neck, and he assumed the guard made a threatening gesture. The next few seconds were a jumble. Sounds of surprised yells and sizzling fire filled the alleyway. The half-orc lifted his head, gasping at what he saw. One of the night patrol stood knee deep in dried mud. The other was hanging upside down from a flaming whip that failed to burn him.
    “Get on up, orc,” Aurelia said. “Or half-orc, whatever you are. I can only keep them like this for a little while.”
    Both men glared at Harruq as he stood, but while their mouths moved and their chests heaved neither produced a sound. The half-orc looked to the woman shrouded in the shadows cast by the fallen torch of the patrolmen.
    “I said move along,” she said. “I need to give these men a talking to.”
    “I’m going,” Harruq grumbled before staggering down the alley. He did not attempt either stealth or silence. Seething, he limped back to Qurrah and their home. Neither said a word as he discarded his armor, tossed his swords into a corner, and crashed onto their bed of straw. For a long moment, only the sound of Harruq’s heavy breathing filled the room.
    “I assume things didn’t go well?” Qurrah finally asked. Harruq didn’t bother to answer.

    T he swarming sensation of power enveloped him. Beneath angry clouds, the man with red eyes beckoned.
    I am waiting, he said. All the power of Dezrel is waiting.
    What must I do? Qurrah asked as he crept up the hill toward the dark man as if approaching a god.
    You know the words.
    Can I trust you?
    The red eyes flared in laughter. Can you trust anyone?
    Qurrah crawled faster, knowing the dream was ending. But it couldn’t end. He had to know. He had to decide.
    Say them. Say them and live.
    My life for you, Qurrah shouted as the world crystallized. A red line slashed across his mind, and as the dream shattered into shards the words of the dark man ripped through him.
    Then come reap the rewards.
    Qurrah lurched awake, gasping for air. His throat ached, and he could feel the tiniest trickle of blood down his trachea. The night was still deep and the town quiet. Beside him, Harruq snored loud enough to wake the drunkest of men. Far away, a wolf howl beckoned.
    “Sleep well,” Qurrah said, leaving the town.
    His doubt faded with each step. All was identical to his dreams. A mile from town, he saw the hill, a smoldering fire atop it to guide his way. Waiting there was the dark man, his red eyes shining down on him as he approached.
    “Say the words,” the man in the black robe ordered. His voice was quiet but deep, a mixture of hate and malice compressed into audible form.
    “How can I make such a promise to one whose name I don’t know?” Qurrah asked. In answer, the man in black stood. His eyes flared and his arms spread wide. All his power rolled forth, and on trembling knees the half-orc looked upon a man more ancient than the forests, more powerful than the fury of nature, and more death than life.
    “My life for you,” he gasped as a fresh wave of terror crawled over him.
    “I would have it no other way,” the man in black said. “Now tell me your name.”
    “I am Qurrah Tun.”
    “And I am Velixar. Rise, Qurrah, and join me by the fire. Ever since I felt your presence back at Veldaren, I have yearned to speak with you.”
    The half-orc took his seat opposite the man. He stared at Velixar, hardly believing what he saw. His face was smooth, his lips small, and his sunken eyes glowing a deep crimson. His features, however, kept changing. Every time Qurrah blinked the man’s face reassembled in some minutely different way. No matter how high or low his nose, or how wide or narrow his forehead, those burning eyes remained.
    “What are you?”