A Sliver of Redemption (34 page)

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Authors: David Dalglish

BOOK: A Sliver of Redemption
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T
arlak scanned the distant walls of Mordeina with eyes magically enhanced by a spell. When Ahaesarus spoke beside him, the disorientation made him stumble, and with a quick jerk of his hand, he ended the spell.

“You will see nothing on the walls to prove your plan brilliant or folly,” the angel said, offering the wizard a piece of bread. “But I think a warm bit of food will do you wonders.”

Tarlak accepted it with a smile.

“Thousands of men about the camp, yet you come to me. Should I be flattered?”

“If it would make you feel better, then yes.”

Both laughed.

“You seem remarkably human, once you get used to the wings and the fact that your arms are as big as tree trunks.”

Ahaesarus smiled. “We were men, Tarlak. Being here on Dezrel…it brings back many memories, not all of them good, but most. I’m reminded of my sins as much as my triumphs. Truth be told, I miss the Golden Eternity. This world is cold and painful.”

“I can imagine.” Tarlak took a bite. “I bet the food is worse down here, too.”

The angel tilted his head a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. It is. Perhaps I think too much, and merely miss eating well.”

Tarlak chuckled. “Good to know I’ll still get to eat after I fall off this mortal coil. Wine, too? I mean, what’s the point of eternity if I can’t get tipsy every now and then?”

“Is this the closest you come to discussing theology, Tarlak?” the angel asked.

“Probably.”

He broke the bread in half and shared it with Ahaesarus. As they ate, Tarlak stared once more to the north, remembering the walls he’d seen, the many torches and guards.

“It doesn’t look good,” he said. “Starting to think I’ll be seeing my sister by tomorrow’s end.”

Ahaesarus put a hand on Tarlak’s shoulder.

“I hope you do not mourn for her still. She is much beloved, and many she touched were there to greet her upon her arrival.”

Tarlak’s cheek quivered, and he no longer brought the bread to his lips, his appetite gone.

“You met her?” he asked.

“I did. She’s beautiful, Tarlak, the kindness within her shining bright in a way your earthen eyes cannot see, nor understand until you’ve been there.”

“If you die before me, I want you to tell her something. You owe me that. I want you to tell her how much I miss her, and that I can’t wait to see her. And I want a hug when I get there, damn it, and I…”

“Enough,” Ahaesarus said, gently shaking him. “You’ll tell her yourself, dear friend. A day from now, a year, or twenty, it matters not. You’ll tell her.”

Tarlak forced himself to smile.

“It might not matter, but between you and me, I’d still prefer it to be twenty years from now rather than a day.”

“G
iven how many of my own men are risking their lives, it seems inappropriate I be left out of your planning,” Bram said to Antonil as they marched through their ranks. They offered shallow compliments as they passed, hoping to use their presence to keep morale high before the coming battle.

“I gathered with my friends, nothing more,” said Antonil. “Our plans on the ground have not changed.”

“Then you let your friends rule through you, instead of you ruling them.”

They complimented several men still sparring despite the darkness, then continued on.

“I would be a fool to not heed their advice,” Antonil said. “And though I command the men, the angels are no subjects of mine.”

“Then whose are they? What lord do they swear to?”

“Ashhur, I guess.”

Bram saluted a few times, then lowered his voice as he spoke.

“So in service to Ashhur, they are in service to no one but themselves. What if my soldiers decide that is the lord they would prefer? The priests already wield great influence. Karak’s paladins held sway over our kings for over a century. My father was the first to defy them, and it nearly cost him his life.”

“What are you saying, Bram?”

Bram remained silent for a moment, realizing he was letting his emotions get the best of him. He smiled and chatted with a random soldier, then continued.

“You’ve promised my nation independence, and I trust you to keep it. But what of your son, or your son’s sons? With angels in the sky and priests guiding your decisions, how long until it is Ashhur who rules the land, not a king? Those who claim to speak for him will become rulers in all but name.”

“Ahaesarus has no desire to rule, nor the priests.”

“How do you know?” asked Bram. “The angels have been here but a short time. How many texts of Ashhur talk of a new kingdom created on the land of Dezrel? I will not have my home conquered in a holy war.”

“That won’t happen!”

“Then swear to me,” said Bram. “Swear that for a hundred years, no angel enters my land. Give me your word now, and should we both survive the morrow, let it be entered into writing and declared to an entire court of witnesses.”

“How can I swear for angels that I do not rule?”

“Then swear I may defend myself, and you will recognize my right to rule. I will not become a pawn of a theocracy.”

They reached the edge of the camp, and Antonil kept his back to his soldiers as he frowned.

“You bring a foul temperament to what should have been a peaceful night,” he said.

Bram grabbed his arm and forced him to turn and face him.

“I do what I must for my kingdom,” he said. “What if I die, but you survive? I must hope your honor is great enough to carry through your promise and protect my wife. And what if you die? You have no heir, and the one chosen will most likely bear white wings. Must I beg to them in hopes they honor your promise made to me? No chances. No risks. I do this for my home, my family, my soldiers, my nation. That is the role of a king, Antonil. You are too trusting to put your back to your friends and your life in their hands. You will find a knife there one day, carved with jewels and bearing the symbol of the mountain.”

“Enough!” Antonil said. “You have my word, still as true as when I first gave it to you. Now leave me be. I’ve heard enough insults to my name this night. Do you think I am a fool? Do you think I don’t understand the great dangers to everything I hold dear? I will die a glorious king, or as the greatest failure to rule in the history of our nations. Now either unhand my shoulder or draw your sword.”

They exchanged cold stares, neither moving, neither blinking.

“I’d always thought we could be close allies,” Bram said as he pulled back his hand.

“We still could be.”

Bram shook his head.

“Long as you hold council with paladins and angels, you are compromised. Forgive me, Antonil. You have impressed me with your courage, but after tomorrow, we are kings of adjacent nations, and nothing more.”

F
or once, Velixar was too busy planning and praying to spend the night tormenting Qurrah, so he and Tess fled to the far reaches of the camp in hope of solitude. Without a fire, they cuddled together. So glad to have him there, she did not mind the chill of his skin.

“They are not far,” Qurrah said, staring north. In the distance burned the fires of Antonil’s camp, tiny spots glowing among the hills. “I wonder if Harruq is among them. Will I sense his death, if it happens? Or was he among the dead floating in the water when we crossed the Bloodbrick?”

“Your brother will find a better death than that,” Tessanna said, gently stroking the dried blood on the front of his robe. “Though I fear he finds it tomorrow.”

They fell silent, but Qurrah could not let the thought hang in the air unspoken.

“And at my hand,” he whispered.

Tessanna closed her eyes and tilted her face into the cloth of his robe.

“We are slaves, you and I,” she said. “What freedom is there for us? Can you fight him? Should he give the order, could you stay your hand?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Velixar has ruined me. He drove a wedge between us, helped kill Aullienna, and will now complete his work. As long as Harruq lives, he knows I will hold to hope. One by one, the pure moments of my past die. You will be the last, I know it. I know it, and I can do nothing to stop it. This is the Abyss, Tessanna. Swords and fire cannot compare to my torment now. To know and yet be powerless to stop the sins I have been commanded to commit. What will I say when Harruq bleeds before me? What can I hope for other than my own death, and at his hand? A final death…”

She clutched him tight, and her sobs grew loud enough for him to hear.

“Don’t talk like that,” she said between sniffles. “Don’t talk like there’s no hope. There has to be. Damn every god and goddess if there isn’t.”

He felt his anger flare at her words, but she was right, and he wished that he had something, anything, to say to convince her things would turn out all right. But what could he say? What lies did he know that she would believe?

“I love you, Tess,” he said. “Everything else is cold and frightening. But I do love you. Please know that.”

She curled into a ball on his lap and shivered as his arms surrounded her.

“If only your body was as warm as your words,” she said. “Dead or alive, Qurrah, I’ll always be yours. Never forget that.”

“I promise,” he said.

28

T
here was only one plan Bernard would accept, and he told them of it that morning.

“Everywhere people whisper of Antonil’s return,” he told the two assassins while they gathered within the small basement of an Ashhur sympathizer. “And you yourself saw the many fires in the distance. Whatever chance they have, it dies against the dragon Melorak has summoned.”

“You don’t know that,” Veliana insisted.

“How many soldiers could they have?” Bernard asked. “Even with the angels’ help, they will die by the hundreds against that beast. It must be destroyed. You saw how weak Melorak looked. The strain of keeping that dragon in existence must be a heavy toll. Against him, I have a chance.”

“Then let us come with you,” Deathmask said. “He’ll have guards, paladins…”

The priest shook his head.

“He’ll have his undead, and they are nothing to me. The rest will be at the wall. This is the last battle, and he knows it. Even if he has a few guards, I must rely on his pride to accept a challenge. I am a priest of his most hated enemy, and to refuse would be a sign of weakness, a direct insult he will not dare allow. You two must find a way to get Antonil inside the city.”

Deathmask rolled his eyes.

“We meet here in a dark cellar, just the three of us, so you can tell me and Vel to go open the massive gates to the two walls? Have you lost your mind, old man?”

Bernard smiled. “Perhaps. But Haern is still out there, and as long as we are separate, he will hunt for you. I need him far and away, unable to help Melorak should the duel turn to my favor. The city is ripe for rebellion. The oppression is too heavy, too brutal. Find a way to get Antonil into Mordeina’s streets, and the Lionsguard will be crushed beneath their heels.”

“Reckless and stupid,” Veliana said. “You ask for the impossible. Thousands of soldiers and archers will line every inch of that wall. Deathmask’s magic is strong, but even he can’t pulverize doors that enormous.”

“I have faith you’ll find a way,” the priest said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

“And I have faith in nothing,” Deathmask said. “Other than that we’re all going to die if we do this.”

“I’d hoped you’d have a bit more faith than that,” Bernard said.

Deathmask slipped the gray cloth over his scarred face and scattered ash into the air.

“I do,” he said as the ash revolved around his head. “Faith that I’ll kill plenty before I meet the reaper-man. Go with your god, Bernard. If he’s not too far gone, maybe he’ll send us a miracle. Right now, we need one.”

A
shhur’s army marched for the capital before dawn had fully bloomed, determined to lose no distance to Thulos’s chasing army. The Eschaton stayed with Ahaesarus and his angels, who walked upon the ground in an attempt to give hope and cheer to the many soldiers.

“How far back are they?” Tarlak asked after a half hour’s march.

Ahaesarus motioned for one of his few scouts in the air. The angel swooped low and gave his report.

“Two miles at most,” said the angel. “And gaining fast.”

“They’ll come upon us before we can even reach the first of the walls,” Tarlak said, frowning.

“Then we have little time to spare,” said Ahaesarus. “When the battle starts, we will fly to Avlimar and set up formations. The display should be enough to goad Thulos into battle.”

“Don’t forget to bring us with you,” said Harruq. “I want my crack at that Thulos.”

“You had one back in Veldaren,” Aurelia said, her frown showing what she thought of the idea. “You ended up with a horrible wound in your chest.”

“Still breathing, though,” Harruq said. “And now I’ve got something to pay him back for!”

Twenty minutes later they crossed through a thin collection of hills, weaving through them along a well-worn path in the grass. Mordeina came into view, banners waving from her walls. High above, Avlimar glittered like a second sun.

“Urge them on,” Ahaesarus said to Antonil after receiving another report from his scout. “We might not reach the walls at the pace they chase!”

Onward they marched, the great city of Mordeina growing ever closer. Harruq felt his nerves gather in his throat, and he started wishing the battle would begin at any moment. Their run to the city didn’t feel like an attack; it felt like a desperate retreat. Perhaps it even was. Most likely they would die crushed against the walls. Still, if they were lucky, they might take a god with them before the end.

The city loomed nearer. The banners flapped in the soft breeze, close enough now for them to read their sigils. They saw the many archers lining the walls, more than enough to make the half-orc shiver. They would assault under a rain of arrows, of that he was certain. He looked back to the thousands that followed, a collected force from Neldar, Ker, and Mordan. Armies of three nations, come together against the might of Karak. And that wasn’t counting the angels and war demons…

“This is going to get bloody,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Aurelia squeezed his hand, showing she heard. He kissed her cheek and continued on marching.

They were trampling the short grass upon the fields before the walls when the scout returned once more, this time looking frightened.

“A quarter of a mile, if that,” he said. “They have thousands of what appear to be undead, plus many more soldiers travelling behind them. Thulos himself must be whipping their tails given how fast they march.”

Ahaesarus spread his wings. They were mere minutes from the wall, and slowing down to form ranks. The battle was upon them.

“Come with me,” Ahaesarus said, offering his hand to Aurelia. Judarius offered his arms to Harruq, who grudgingly accepted.

“Don’t drop me, eh?” he said.

“I’ll try,” said the angel. “Though all those losses in sparring might have loosened my grip a little.”

Harruq glanced to Tarlak, who only shook his head and laughed a hollow laugh.

“Be safe you two,” the wizard said. Then they were gone, soaring into the air in the arms of the angels. Harruq felt a momentary spell of dizziness at the sudden height, followed by exhilaration. That exhilaration turned to fear when they turned to see the great host giving chase. The war demons fluttered into ranks, hovering over the lines of warriors. Harruq craned his head to watch Antonil and Bram rearrange their own forces into two lines. One enormous line moved toward the city gates. A much smaller line remained put, and it seemed like it would be only a stumbling block against the attackers.

Harruq said a quick prayer for those chosen to be in that last line, then looked to the sky. They climbed higher and higher until they were far above the city, and the battlefield below looked like a collection of ants scurrying toward one another. Avlimar glittered before him, stunning in its golden beauty and pearl walls.

“Wait here,” Judarius said as he set the half-orc down on one of the large clearings along the outer edges, designed for the angels to easily land and take wing from. Ahaesarus arrived with Aurelia moments later, and she smiled at Harruq as she stepped onto the comforting stone.

“We will fight only a little while in the air,” Ahaesarus said as Judarius flapped his wings and took off. “Then we will retreat further in. Ashhur’s blessing permeates every single brick and hall. It is within here we will make our stand.”

“If you see a demon carrying a priest of Karak, you let him land, eh?” Harruq said. “I want the privilege of killing Velixar, not some very, very long fall.”

“I will consider,” said the angel before joining the rest of his kind.

Suddenly they were alone, the city calm and empty behind them. Only the angels flew circles about, spread wide to exaggerate their numbers. Aurelia took his hand as they stood to watch.

“Stay with me,” she said. “Please, just stay with me until the end.”

He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

“Until the end,” he said.

“T
hey flee to their golden city,” Thulos said as the angels of Ashhur took flight. Velixar watched as he strode alongside the war god at the front of the army.

“Just the angels,” he said. “What plan do they have?”

“The height,” Thulos said. He pointed to where the rest of the army hurried toward the walls. “If we assault the ground troops, they will dive down atop us. In aerial combat, this is equivalent to us putting our backs to their blades. Too great a risk for a fight we are set to win. Let them choose their place of combat. Their blood will stain gold as well as grass.”

Velixar nodded as he watched the angels fly. He cast a spell to enhance his vision, hoping to better see their numbers. As they flew, he felt a smile spread across his ever-changing face. There, hanging in the arms of one of the angels…

Harruq. It had to be.

“Who will command the ground troops?” Velixar asked.

Thulos gave him a surprised look. “I presumed it would be you.”

“Give the honor to Myann. He has been cross ever since our failure at the Bloodbrick. I wish to go with you.”

“And why is that, prophet? Do you desire to slay angels? Are mere mortals no longer worthy of your judgment?”

Velixar made sure he answered in total calm.

“There is one among the angels whom I have long sought after. I wish him to join me, or die at my feet. He helped bring you into our world, and he deserves a chance to repent.”

“Repent?” asked Thulos. “You are a strange one, Velixar. So be it. I will give Myann control. You may come with me in the arms of my demons. Just do not get in my way, nor presume my warriors will give any reprieve. If your…friend dies at their hands, do not bring the matter to me.”

Thulos raised a fist and shouted orders. Velixar ignored him, instead pushing through the ranks of his undead until reaching where Qurrah and Tessanna marched hand in hand. He frowned at such contact, and a single thought to the half-orc forced him to let go.

“We go to the golden city,” he said, unable to contain his joy. “We go to end this once and for all. Your brother and your lover, Qurrah; they will both be there. Let us see just where your heart truly lies.”

He flagged down a demon and ordered others to be brought with him. The demon cursed him but obeyed. Two more arrived, and in their arms, the three soared with the rest into the air, flying higher and higher toward the angels of Ashhur. Velixar gave his undead a single order, one they would follow until they beat their fists against the walls of Mordeina: slay the living before you.

“A glorious day,” he shouted to Qurrah, who was too far away to hear due to the roaring wind in their ears.

The three carrying them stayed back as the forces collided. The demons swung their glaives and flung their spears, spilling blood like rain to the ground far below. The angels weaved and cut just as viciously, and Velixar felt the exhilaration growing within him. He wished to help but could not, not until they were closer and he felt firm ground beneath his feet. The angels merged from their spread out pattern into a thin stream of warriors, and they sliced through the demon ranks like cloth.

Then Thulos arrived. An enormous pair of crimson wings stretched from slots in the armor on his back, and he cut angels down left and right, tumbling their severed bodies to the battle below. After he killed a score, the rest retreated into the city in a stream of feathers and gold armor. The demons carrying the three closed in, and on one of the many landing platforms set them down.

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