The King of the Vile (23 page)

Aubrienna, having failed to get her father to play, slid off the bed to where several other dolls waited. As his daughter fought a dragon carved from wood and painted red, Harruq lowered his voice

“We can’t bring her with us tonight,” he said. “Same for Gregory. We need to find a safe place for the two of them should things turn ugly.”

Aurelia slid off the bed and free of his grasp.

“Then let’s get started.”

The day passed swiftly. Harruq made sure to spend much of it with Aubrienna and Gregory, roaring like an idiot as he pretended he was a dragon. Several times guards interrupted, bearing news of the growing line at the castle doors. Every time, Harruq sent them away. No matter how loudly the people protested, there was little he could do. Even now, angels hovered over the castle, keeping watch. Azariah wanted the ears of the city, and in his glittering home, he would get them.

Finally, when the sun was just beginning to dip, Harruq rustled the young king’s hair and kissed his daughter goodbye.

“Guard them well,” he told Sir Wess, who awkwardly held the children’s hands.

“It seems a foul plan that would have such youngsters hiding in a filthy dungeon,” he said.

“There’s nowhere safer,” Harruq said. “Make sure no angels see you on the way. And avoid all the windows, is that clear?”

“Perfectly.”

Aurelia kissed Aubby on the cheek, wished her well, and then watched the knight lead her and Gregory down the hall.

“Fucking angels,” Harruq muttered.

They returned to their bedroom. Aurelia slid on a vibrant green dress, and Harruq realized it was similar to what she’d worn when he first met her all those years ago in Woodhaven. When he reached for his own fine silk shirt, Aurelia stopped him.

“No,” she said. “Not that.”

He sighed in relief and dressed in plain clothes, then pulled his leather armor off the stand in the corner. He concentrated on tightened the buckles even though it was a task he could do in his sleep; he didn’t want his thoughts to drift into made-up scenarios of what might happen over the next few hours. Buckle after buckle, strap after strap, he fastened the armor granted to him by Velixar, armor baptized with the blood of dark paladins, war demons, pillaging orcs, shattered undead, and even a god.

The blood of the innocent, too. Before all else, he’d massacred a little village whose name Harruq couldn’t remember, if he’d ever known at all. A thousand times he’d heard his brother be condemned, and yet here Harruq stood, steward of the realm. For whatever reason, forgiveness clung easier to Harruq than it did Qurrah, but they’d both bathed in innocent blood and given their lives to atone for it. And now before Ashhur’s own chosen wardens, he wondered if he must give his life again.

“Ready?” he asked Aurelia when he finished dressing. His wife held a staff she’d magically summoned, and she leaned upon it while observing him.

“Almost,” she said. Setting aside the staff, she knelt before the chest at the foot of their bed, opened it, and pulled out Salvation and Condemnation. Harruq hardened his jaw at the sight of them. Angel blood. He’d forgotten the angel blood that also stained his armor and blades. Would Shoa’s be the last?

Harruq tried to ignore his fears, to grin and joke as he always did.

“I thought dressing for a fight might cause one,” he said.

Aurelia buckled the ancient blades around his waist.

“That’s what I’m praying for.”

21

“T
here they are,” Tessanna said. She stood beside Qurrah atop a hill, overlooking the road. Camped and waiting for them, dozens of tents scattered throughout the valley, was the army of Mordan.

“They’ve come to face us at last,” Qurrah said, frowning. King Bram’s seven thousand were evenly matched in number by Mordan’s forces, which meant Bram was doomed once the angels joined the fight, except the skies were clear of white wings.

“Where are the angels?” he wondered aloud.

Tessanna shrugged.

“Perhaps Bram was right, and they fly north to deal with the beasts crossing the Gihon River.”

“Perhaps,” Qurrah said, watching Bram’s men scramble about, their march temporarily halted so they could sharpen their blades, ready their armor, and put every last man into formation. Bram would want Qurrah and Tess at the front of the battle, fighting alongside the dark paladins to crush Mordan’s forces. The idea soured his stomach worse than curdled milk.

“I need to speak with Bram,” he said. “Will you wait here for me with our things?”

“If you insist,” she said.

“I do,” Qurrah said. He wrapped his whip around his arm and trudged down the hill.

Bram’s tent was packed with advisors updating their king on the preparations and discussing strategy and formation. Xarl was with him, a fact Qurrah was hardly pleased about. No one seemed to notice his entrance, so after failing to gain their attention by clearing his throat twice, he finally shouted.

“My king, if I might have a word?”

Bram glanced up from his table, and his initial glare cooled the blood in Qurrah’s veins. Bram usually played the most noble of gentlemen, treating Qurrah like he were a precious friend. That glare, though...that glare said something very much the opposite.

“Go, and prepare as I’ve told you,” Bram ordered his men, and they reluctantly filed out. “Not you,” he added before Xarl exited. Qurrah bit his tongue. He didn’t want the dark paladin there, but it seemed he didn’t have an option.

“I assume preparations are going well?” Qurrah asked.

“They are,” Bram replied. “I was wondering where you were off to. I was hoping to speak with you before the battle.”

“About what?” Qurrah asked even though he was certain he already knew.

“I’d like you to stay back and protect Queen Loreina,” he said.

Apparently Qurrah did not know the king as well as he thought.

“You don’t want me in the fight?” he asked.

“I want you guarding what is most important to me,” he said. “Which is my wife. The dark paladins will be more than capable of tilting the battle to our favor.”

Qurrah narrowed his eyes. The king was diminishing Qurrah’s importance to the overall campaign, but why? Did he know of Qurrah’s growing reluctance to fight alongside him? Or perhaps the dark paladins had requested it, and Bram was all too eager to appease so long as it earned him his victory? Qurrah would have liked to say he didn’t care either way, but he did. He cared immensely, for this was no normal opponent. This was his brother’s army. Even worse, with Qurrah’s role diminished, it meant dark paladins had that much more influence over the king.

“Do you know who leads them?” Qurrah asked warily.

“Based on the banners, I’d say Lord Aerling,” Bram said.

Not Harruq,
was all Qurrah heard. A bit of hope kindled in his heart.

“There’s no angels,” he said. “And Harruq does not lead them. We have no reason to fight them, Bram. Parlay. These lords are surely as tired of the rule of angels as you are. You might even win yourself some allies with your silver tongue.”

Bram laughed at him. Just a soft chuckle, but there was no denying the dismissal.

“These men have marched against me to preserve their own power,” he said. “Don’t you see, Qurrah? The power of angels is already fading, and who will fill the void? I shall. My rule. My crown. Those lords you see up there? Those private bannermen? They’re all fighting for a chance at the power I would take for myself. There will be no winning them to my side, only scattering them out of my way before continuing our march to the capital.”

“And how do you know that with such confidence?”

“Because I have eyes where you do not,” Anora said, slipping into the tent with them. She sneered, her long, pointed nose, giving her the look of a grinning weasel. The woman was already a distasteful presence, but to have her also gloating pushed her to new levels of unpleasantness.

“Then those eyes should see a clear lack of angels,” Qurrah said. “This fight bears no meaning. Crushing a few stubborn lords is irrelevant to your goal.”

“They stand in my way,” Bram said. “And they will challenge my right to rule. I have every reason to see them scattered, angels or no angels.”

Qurrah took a step back and tried to remain calm. He should have seen it earlier. He should have listened to Tess.

“This was never about overthrowing the angels,” he said. “Never about protecting Ker. You want to rule both nations.”

Bram looked frustrated while he rapped his knuckles on the table in the center of the tent. Xarl, meanwhile, just looked amused.

“Tell me, Qurrah, do you know a better way to overthrow the rule of angels than to become their king?” Bram asked. “Do you know a better way to protect Ker than to conquer the enemy that threatens you? Right now, Mordeina is ruled by a boy and a half-orc steward, both clearly in the pockets of the angels. If left unchecked, humanity will lose all control over her fate, and so I do what we must. If you can’t accept that, if you can’t agree that my battle is the righteous one, then leave my camp and return to your home in the woods. Enjoy the freedom that the blood of my soldiers will earn you.”

Qurrah remained silent. He could see Bram’s point, but he could also could clearly see Xarl and Anora on either side of the king, the Council of Mages and Karak’s Paladins both eager to dive on scraps as King Bram marched into Mordeina. It wasn’t about removing mankind from the prison of angels. It was about replacing that prison with one of Bram’s making.

“If you wish me to stay at the rear of the army, then I shall,” Qurrah said, and he bowed.

“Try to stay alert,” Xarl said. “An ambush might come at any time.”

He was mocking him, of course, but Qurrah smiled as pleasantly back as he could manage.

“Wise advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”

And then he hurried out, unable to stand their presence any longer. Qurrah rushed through the chaos of the army. When he reached the hill, he found Tessanna lying in the grass, beautiful as ever. She took one look at his face and knew at once what had happened.

“They don’t need us anymore, do they?” she asked.

“Not with Anora and the dark paladins offering their aid,” he said.

“I thought so.” She rolled onto her back. “Anora, the paladins...they’re predictable, you realize. What they want. What they’re hoping for, power and wealth, things Bram can understand. Us, though? He can’t understand us, can’t trust us, and therefore he can’t control us. Of course he’d push us aside.”

“It’s not just that,” Qurrah said as he knelt before his pack of provisions. “This war against the angels...it’s all a lie. Bram believes in what he’s doing, he truly does, but if it wasn’t angels, it’d be something else he was protecting the nation of Ker from. Bram seeks power, no different than anyone else. I never should have believed otherwise.”

With the pack open, Qurrah pushed aside a few scattered belongings until he found the robes that lay on the very bottom. Qurrah brushed his fingers against the white fabric, which seemed to shine in the daylight. It was so smooth, so wonderful to touch. Despite the blood and gore that had fallen upon them, no stain seemed capable of finding purchase. Qurrah thought to when he’d first received the robes, a gift given by the angel, Azariah.

Show the world who you really are,
Azariah had said. Perhaps it was time to do so again.

Tessanna saw the robes and rose to her feet. Qurrah hovered over the pack, frightened to remove them from within.

“Do you know what Lathaar told me?” he said. Tessanna wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Karak does not need my help to burn the world anew, nor does he need yours. All he needs is us to stand aside and do nothing.”

Tessanna nuzzled his neck. “Do you truly think we are such a threat to Karak’s delusional goals?” she purred.

Qurrah remembered his stand on the bridge, the war demons he slaughtered in the sky, the waves of undead he tore down as he protected King Theo White and his soldiers. Yet still that paled compared to Tessanna when her black wings bloomed in full.

“Yes,” he said. “I think we are.”

He stripped down and slipped the white robes over his body. The fabric clung to his skin, and it felt so soft, so comfortable, he wondered why he ever stopped wearing them. Rising to his feet, he took his wife’s hands and pulled her close.

“If we entered Mordan to protect mankind’s freedom, then we start right here and now,” he said. “Let us become everything Karak has ever hated. Let us become chaos.”

“Where have
you
been these past few months?” Tess whispered, kissing his lips and giggling like a child.

“Sleeping,” he said. “Are you ready?”

She squeezed his hands.

“My magic’s weak,” she said. “I’m not sure how much help I will be to you. My power came only from slaying angels. That’s what Mommy wanted from me. I don’t know if she wants this.”

Qurrah shook his head.

“The wings are yours, Tess. Demand them. Leave the goddess no choice but to give you the power you need.”

Tessanna pecked his cheek.

“We’ll see.”

A bellowing communal roar rolled up the hill, and the ground seemed to shake beneath Qurrah’s feet. He looked to Bram’s army and saw them charging in formation toward the lines of soldiers from Mordan, the paladins of Karak leading them with flaming swords held high.

“Let’s go,” Qurrah said. “I have a promise to Lathaar to keep.”

The three captured paladin trainees were kept near the back of the encampment, with two guards on watch at all times. When marching, the guards chained them together, but when not, they were attached to stakes pounded deep into the ground. Taking care of two guards would be easy enough, though the close proximity to Loreina’s tent might prove troublesome. They needed to get in and out before the battle ended.

“Once I get the prisoners, hurry back to our campsite,” Qurrah told Tess, trying to act calm in case they were spotted. “From the hill’s vantage point you should have a clear view of the battle. Do what you can to influence it in Mordan’s favor. I hold no love for Mordan and her nobility, but it’s better they win than Bram.”

“If you insist,” she said.

Qurrah kept one eye on the battle as they neared the Bram’s pavilion. Two armed soldiers stood at the entrance, but Qurrah gave them no reason to think anything was amiss. Other than his robes, of course, but he doubted a simple change in garment would elicit an attack. Qurrah led Tess around the back of the pavilion, toward the imprisoned paladins.

“The battle’s already starting to swing Bram’s way,” Qurrah said as the enormous tent blocked sight of the conflict. “And that’s with Anora yet to join in.”

“You’re asking much for me to sway this battle,” Tessanna said, but despite her doubtful words, she sounded exited.

“Don’t let Anora frighten you,” Qurrah said. “You can defeat her with your eyes closed.”

Past the pavilion were a few more rows of tents, and then a gap in the camp where the three posts were nailed. As expected, the four guards who watched over the chained paladins drew their weapons when he and Tess approached.

“Stay back,” one of them said. “We’ve orders to allow no one to speak with the prisoners until the battle has ended.”

“And I have new orders,” Qurrah said. “
Sleep.
”

Darkness like mist floated from his hands, branching into streams that flowed into the soldiers’ mouths and nostrils. One by one they dropped to their knees. Only the nearest fell asleep immediately, but Tessanna walked among them, whispering as she gently touched their faces. Their combined magic plunged the men into a sleep so deep that not even a bath of ice-cold water would wake them for several hours.