The Prison of Angels h-6 Page 2

  “Ashhur!”

  The force it nearly knocked Harruq off his feet. He shook his head as many others hurried back to standing.

  “That’s one way to make an entrance,” he muttered.

  The leader of the angels landed before them, just beyond the platform. He did not need its height to stare at them eye to eye, for he was a giant of an angel, his golden armor gleaming. His name was Ahaesarus, and it was at his side that Harruq and Aurelia had fought to slay the war god Thulos, preventing him from conquering the world of Dezrel. Beside Ahaesarus landed his war general, Judarius, and his high priest, Azariah. The two were eerily similar, with green eyes tinged with gold and their brown hair cut short around their necks. But where Judarius wore armor and carried an enormous mace upon his back, Azariah had only his robes and his soft hands, skilled at clerical magic. Together the three bowed to Antonil, who stood and bowed in return. Harruq dipped his head in respect.

  “Heroes of mankind, King and Queen of Mordan, I greet you,” said Ahaesarus. His voice was deep, befitting one so giant. “This day you march against blasphemous beings. Know that Ashhur gives you his blessing, and with loving eyes he will watch over your homeland in your absence. You will always have a safe home to return to, King Antonil Copernus, and the arms of friends ready to embrace you.”

  Ahaesarus drew his sword, a masterful construction of steel, gold, and diamond that was as tall as Harruq. He held it with both hands above his head, and he cried out, his words repeated by the rest of the angels.

  “Ashhur bless the King!” they cried. “Ashhur bless the King!”

  That was it, the last of the ceremony so far as Harruq knew. He let out a sigh, glad he hadn’t screwed anything up. But Antonil stood, and he looked far from relaxed. Ahaesarus bowed to him, then stepped away so the crowd might see their king. Harruq shot Aurelia a glance, but his wife only shrugged.

  “Tomorrow we march,” Antonil said. At first it was hard to hear him, but a quick twitch of Tarlak’s fingers and his voice strengthened, magically carrying throughout the city. “With me march your sons, your husbands, your lovers and protectors. I swear to protect them, honor them, and let not a single life lost be in vain. In my absence my beautiful wife rules…at least, she would if circumstances were different.”

  Susan smiled, and that smile filled Harruq with terror. He knew that smile, that glow. Not good, he thought. Antonil you bastard, you better not be doing what I think you’re about to…

  “My wife carries my second child,” Antonil told the crowd. Scattered applause accompanied his words. “And I would not burden her further during such a time. So now, before you all, I appoint my steward. He is a man well known to you, whose bravery is unquestioned and whose strength none would dare challenge. He will guard my throne in my absence, administering the king’s justice.”

  Harruq felt ready to explode.

  “The Godslayer, Harruq Tun,” Antonil announced over the roar of the crowd. “Harruq, come stand before me.”

  He felt Aurelia squeeze his hand, and he fought to remain calm. The eyes of the kingdom were upon him. The thought of messing up terrified him, as did ruling as a steward, but to reject Antonil publicly would be an insult the king’s fragile reputation could not endure. So he stepped before Antonil, doing his best to hide his glare from hundreds of onlookers.

  “Kneel,” Antonil said, and Harruq did. “Harruq Tun, I declare you Steward of Mordan and protector of the realm. Rise, and rule in my absence.”

  Harruq stood, and he leaned forward so he could speak just to the king.

  “I’m going to murder you,” he said.

  “You have no need to repay me,” Antonil responded, “for there is no debt to repay. Just rule well, as I know you will.”

  At first Harruq was confused by his words, but the spell was still on Antonil, and the king’s voice carried throughout the city. The half-orc shook his head. Sly devil. He’d murder Antonil twice now for this.

  “A fine choice,” Azariah said, putting a hand on Harruq’s shoulder. “If there is anything you need, any question, my knowledge is open to you.”

  “Thanks,” Harruq said, glancing around with wide eyes. He felt like a trapped deer with a crown placed upon his head by a pack of wolves. Unsure what else to do, he waved to the crowd. They cheered back, and he prayed he might live up to their jubilation. Did they really think he’d do any better than Antonil?

  That was it, then, the last of the procession. The soldiers were dismissed to spend the night with their loved ones or get drunk one last time with friends. They scattered among the people, who hurried to one of dozens of carnivals set up as part of the celebration. The angels took wing, with only the ruling three remaining behind.

  “I hope authority doesn’t make you grow fat and lazy,” Judarius said, smiling at him. “You still owe me a sparring match or three.”

  “I have bigger fears than that,” Harruq said, spinning on Antonil. “Have you lost your damn mind? Me, steward? Why not place a donkey in charge for all the good I’ll do?”

  “He makes a good point,” Tarlak said. “Either way we’d have an ass sitting on the throne.”

  “Don’t panic,” Susan said, leaving her seat so she might kiss Harruq on the cheek. “I’ll be here the whole time. You won’t be left to hang.”

  Harruq rubbed his neck. A hanging sounded more preferable than sitting on Antonil’s throne and listening to hours and hours of complaints, pleadings, and accusations.

  “Antonil, a word with you if I may?” Ahaesarus asked, and Antonil nodded.

  “Harruq, come with us,” the king said. “Ahaesarus, up to that wall if you’d please.”

  The angel grabbed each by an arm and with a flutter of his wings they soared into the air. Moments later they landed atop the inner wall of the city, which was now completely empty. Suddenly free of the crowd, Harruq felt his stomach unclench for the first time in an hour.

  “Much better,” Harruq said, turning on Antonil. “Now care to tell me what just happened down there?”

  “I’m sorry, Harruq. I thought you’d say no if I asked you any other way.”

  “Antonil, you know my place is with you and your army. I kill things with swords. That’s what I do. Just because your wife is pregnant doesn’t mean I should…”

  “But she’s not pregnant,” Ahaesarus said, crossing his arms and frowning at Antonil. “Is she?”

  Harruq’s jaw dropped. Antonil shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “It’s just a ruse to justify Harruq’s appointment as steward.”

  Two deaths wasn’t enough, Harruq decided. Now it was up to three.

  “You tread dangerous ground,” the angel said. “You made us complicit in your lie, and neither I nor my angels appreciate this in the slightest.”

  “What he said,” Harruq grumbled.

  “I have my reasons,” Antonil insisted. “Harruq, please listen to me, not as your king but as your friend.”

  The half-orc sighed, nodding at Antonil.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’m all ears.”

  Antonil turned, and from the wall he gestured to the grand city of Mordeina and its castle upon the hill.

  “This isn’t my home,” he said. “I hoped otherwise, but nothing has changed over the past five years. My home, my heart, and my kingdom are all in the east, ruled by tribes of orcs. The people know this, and because of that they resent me. You’re not a fool. You’re not deaf. Surely you hear their rumblings better than I?”

  Harruq crossed his arms and refused to look him in the eye.

  “Of course you hear it,” Antonil said, and he let out a groan. “Too many resent my power, as do they resent the angels. This is the chance my enemies have been waiting for. I cannot leave Susan alone. I won’t risk her life, not now. So be the figurehead I need you to be. Susan will run all the important matters, and truth be told, that’s not much different than how it has been. But I won’t let her be intimidated. I won’t let others think she can be bulli
ed or usurped. The people love you, respect you, even fear you.”

  “You want me to take the danger while your wife rules in secret,” Harruq said. “Is that what you’re asking?”

  “Will you deny it, Harruq? Who has less to fear from an assassin’s dagger, you or my wife? Who in my kingdom has the presence to intimidate you?”

  “And what of my family?” Harruq asked. “What of my daughter?”

  “Only a madman would dare harm the child of Harruq and Aurelia Tun,” Antonil said, and he smiled to hide his discomfort at the notion. “But your daughter will be with my son. They’ll be guarded together, protected together. I’m putting everything in your hands, Harruq-my family, my son, my entire kingdom. Can I trust you?”

  “We’ll be here watching,” Ahaesarus said, trying to comfort the half-orc. “Avlimar is close, and if you are in need we will always be at your side. You have nothing to fear.”

  Harruq glanced back and forth between them, then hung his head in surrender.

  “If I’m a steward,” he asked, “does that mean I have to wear a stupid crown?”

  “Nonsense,” Antonil said, smiling. “You’re in charge now. You’ll wear what you like. Or at least, what Aurelia will let you.”

  Harruq laughed.

  “A crown it is,” he said. “Now fly me down. I’m not ruling just yet, and until I am, I plan on finding out how much of your alcohol I can drink before passing out.”

  2

  The ax came down with a thunk, easily splitting the log in half. Qurrah Tun wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. He prespired not from exertion, but from the heat. Controlling the undead being with the ax required little effort on his part. With a slow but steady motion his undead servant pushed the split wood to the side, bent down for another log, and set it before him on the heavy stump.

  “Qurrah?”

  The half-orc looked up from where he sat leaning against a tree with a book in his lap.

  “Yes, Tess?”

  Tessanna came around the side of their cabin as the ax fell, splitting another log. Her long black hair ran all the way down to her waist. A single braid looped around her forehead, pulling her bangs away from her face. Despite her plain brown dress she looked like a goddess to Qurrah, with her pale skin, slender body, and eyes so black only a hint of white showed at the edges. The only mar upon her perfection were her arms, laced with dozens of scars, most of them self-inflicted.

  “Someone’s coming,” she said.

  “Well then, let’s meet him at the road,” he said, putting his book away.

  “He’s not using the road.”

  Qurrah let out a sigh. The arrival of an angel may not always bring bad news, but it did mean complications. They were stretched too thin across Mordan to dally with trivial things.

  “Then let him come to us,” he said, taking her hand. “You aren’t nervous, are you?”

  Tessanna smirked at him.

  “With the two of us together? It would take many, many more angels to make me nervous…and only if I had a reason. Do we have a reason to be nervous?”

  “It could be sad news, perhaps a death in the family.”

  “I’d know before they.”

  Qurrah took her hand and together they walked to the front of their cabin. He believed her. She’d always had a strange connection to his family, especially since the tragedy with Aullienna. The thought stung him, and he forced his mind to think of other things. If something bad had happened to Harruq, Aurelia, or especially his daughter Aubrienna, he’d have heard of it long before an angel could make the flight from Mordeina.

  Mind distracted, he almost missed the landing of the angel, who softly curled about in the air so his feet touched ground with nary a sound. His hair was short, brown, and his green eyes sparkled with gold.

  “Welcome to our meager home, Azariah,” Qurrah said. “You risk much coming to me. Your kind isn’t welcome within Ker’s borders.”

  “I come as an ambassador, not an enforcer,” Azariah said. “Besides, when I am in the sky, who in Dezrel might harm me?”

  “I could if I still had my wings,” Tessanna said, picking at the hem of her dress. “But I don’t need them anymore. At least I hope not.”

  “No angel would dare pretend to know the goddess’s intentions,” Azariah said, turning to her. “But your power may have waned for a reason, and it might return with equal reason. Celestia would not leave you helpless should a need arise.”

  She smiled at him so beautifully, but Qurrah sensed the daggers hiding behind it.

  “Helpless?” she said, and a brief flicker of flame passed from her palm, across her knuckles, and back into her fingers, where she snuffed it. “I have forfeited my wings, and the power of a goddess is no longer mine, but do not think me helpless, angel. It would be poor sport watching you try to fly with your wings ablaze.”

  Qurrah put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed as Azariah dipped his head low to show he meant no disrespect.

  “It is wrong of me to be so careless with my words,” the angel said. “Especially since you and I are in such similar situations.”

  Qurrah heard the thunk of an ax, and he turned around to see his pet flailing at the log, which he’d failed to fully split. Frowning, he waved a hand at it, ceasing all functions until he could deal with it later. When he turned back he caught Azariah frowning at him.

  “Your power still wanes?” Qurrah asked, trying to prevent a conversation he had no patience for.

  “It does,” Azariah said, walking toward their cabin. “It is strange, for I cannot decipher the reason. Not all of our kind suffer like I. The warriors and enforcers still retain their abilities, limited as they are. We can still calm troubled minds and sense truth from lie, but more and more our priests struggle to have our prayers answered. It is a humbling thing, Qurrah, to go from the mightiest priest of our lord to a mere winged man who even the lowliest scoundrel could pierce with his sword.”

  “Humility in an angel?” Qurrah said, smiling at Azariah. “And to think you act like the age of miracles has passed.”

  “It is with humility I can accept the coming changes and prepare for them. My priestly spells vanish. Perhaps it is our descent to this world, our proximity to its sin and corruption. Perhaps Ashhur slumbers, or Celestia’s control over him has increased in response to the war that sundered her land. None of these things can I change.”

  He opened the door to their cabin, holding it so the two might enter first. Tessanna took Qurrah’s arm, hovering close beside him as if she were afraid. Normally Qurrah would think it an act, but there was never any knowing with Tessanna. Her mind, while worlds better than when he first met her, was still a fragile thing, and rarely predictable.

  Inside the cabin was their bed, a small table, and a dormant fireplace. It wasn’t much, especially compared to the splendor his brother now lived in, but it was theirs. Given how he and Tessanna had nearly destroyed all of Dezrel, it felt like luxury enough.

  “How fares my brother?” he asked as he thought of Harruq. He sat in a chair beside the table, and Tessanna sat next to him, her head leaning against his shoulder.

  “I will speak of him soon enough,” Azariah said, flashing an indecipherable smile. “He is the reason I came, but I would first make a request before I lose my courage. I cannot change the loss of my power, but I can adapt. I can embrace this new world we are to rule. Qurrah…can you share with me your knowledge of the arcane arts?”

  It took a moment before Qurrah could compose his thoughts.

  “You want me…to teach you?”

  “Is it so strange?” Azariah asked. “My hands were not meant to hold a blade. Tell me, could you take up your brother’s swords with any degree of skill?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then why should others expect the same of me? I once wielded great power. I would do so again.”

  “He would be the perfect pupil,” Tessanna whispered into his ear. “He is an angel, after all.”

&nbs
p; Her giggle showed her true opinion on the matter, however.

  “There must be better teachers than I,” Qurrah said. “What about Tarlak? He even lives in Mordeina.”

  “He travels with King Antonil on their campaign to retake the east, and I cannot afford to be away for such a lengthy time.”

  Qurrah’s brain scrambled for other alternatives.

  “The Council of Mages,” he said. “What of them?”

  Azariah shook his head.

  “If you think Ker carries a distrust of my kind, you should hear the opinions of the Council. No, they will not teach me. Neither will the elves, for those who still bear the gift of magic in their blood are closely guarded, and are not prone to sharing.”

  “Not all of them,” Qurrah insisted. “I’m sure Aurelia would be willing to-”

  “You must understand something,” Azariah interrupted. “I hold a position of great respect. Should mortals hear of my training, I would be mocked, or doubted. There are many of my own kind who distrust the learning of magical spellcasting, even a few who would declare it blasphemous. That you are here, acting the recluse, helps put my mind at ease concerning this matter.”

  “I could teach you,” Tessanna said.

  “Wait a moment,” Qurrah said. “Wait…”

  “From what I know of you, I fear I would not be an appropriate student,” Azariah said. “Magic comes to you easily, and its very nature is unpredictable. But I will accept…should your husband have no objections.”

  Their eyes turned on Qurrah, and he felt like a caged animal. Tessanna’s fingers played with the neckline of his shirt, and the tension in her shoulders told him she feared his rejection. Letting out a sigh, he kissed the top of her head.

  “We will both teach you as best we can,” he said. “Though I fear you will have a lengthy flight between every lesson.”

  “Perhaps not,” Azariah said. “But speaking of lengthy flights, do you have something I might drink?”

  Tessanna retrieved a wood-carved cup from a cupboard, filled it with water from a pitcher, and then dipped her finger inside.