Angel's Knight (Angelwar Book 3)

by A. J. Grimmelhaus

  The others were silent so Krom answered for them. ‘One,’ he said. ‘Always a single angel holds watch over Korte, never more, never less.’

  ‘Galandor?’ one of the captains asked hopefully.

  ‘Galandor’s watch is done, another stands in his place.’

  ‘A woman, so the rumours go,’ Carswell mused.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘One version of the tale I’ve heard says the angel was seen in Norve with a man named Kraven,’ Carswell said. ‘Any relation?’

  ‘My son, Tol.’

  Carswell nodded slowly, his manner cautious. Maybe he’s heard of my younger years, Krom thought.

  ‘And,’ Carswell asked carefully, ‘is it also true the angel has chosen him as her champion?’

  ‘Yes.’ Krom ignored the sudden fidgeting of his Reve brothers and returned Carswell’s attention with the most honest expression he could muster.

  ‘Then where is he?’

  ‘On his way.’

  ‘And the angel?’

  ‘Will come.’

  ‘I hope so, Krom, for all our sakes.’ Carswell relaxed. ‘We should gather the men and outline our plan.’ He stood, the others Meracians following his lead, but stopped when he saw Krom and the Seven stayed seated. ‘You’re not coming?’

  Krom shook his head. ‘You lead the Meracians.’

  ‘And the display in the governor’s hall?’

  ‘Only way to get you bloody idiots to make a decision,’ Patrick muttered. ‘You’d still be arguing when the Gurdal cut you down if we hadn’t.’

  Krom was sure he said it just loud enough that everyone heard. ‘We don’t care who leads your army as long as we win,’ he said as the captains’ expressions darkened. ‘You seem like a smart man, Carswell, and you’ve got four good commanders here to let you know when you’re not.’

  Carswell smiled slyly. ‘And you, and the Seven.’

  Krom returned the smile with a grin of his own. ‘Aye, a smart commander listens to advice. My advice would be to keep the Seven close at hand. Might be a time when a lord or two gets out of line and we ain’t too fussy about teaching fools lessons.’

  ‘Happy to oblige,’ Balvador grinned as he cracked his knuckles.

  ‘I need all my commanders alive.’ Carswell said. He smiled. ‘But a small lesson or two might keep them in line. And you?’

  ‘Patrick and I will lead the advance party to Obsidian.’

  Carswell held out a hand. ‘Safe travels then. We’ll follow at dawn.’ He led the others to the door but stopped at the threshold. ‘If the angel doesn’t show,’ he said, ‘I won’t stop my men from killing you.’ The door rattled on its hinges as the last man out kicked it shut.

  ‘If the angel don’t come,’ Patrick drawled, ‘we’ll all have bigger problems.’ He poured the dregs from two mugs of wine into his own and scowled at the concoction as though hoping it might change to ale. ‘You don’t think we should tell them the truth about what we’ll be facing?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Seems they’ve got enough to be thinking about already,’ Krom said.

  ‘Giving them another reason to stay here won’t help anyone,’ Balvador added.

  ‘No,’ Krom agreed. He stood. ‘Keep a close eye on Carswell and the others,’ he told the three knights as he knocked over Patrick’s mug of weakened wine. ‘Finished?’ he asked with a grin. ‘We should leave.’

  ‘Don’t kill all the Gurdal without us,’ Balvador grinned, hauling his bulk off the bench.

  ‘Dawn tomorrow.’

  Balvador nodded. ‘We’ll make sure of it, even if we have to drag the commanders by their hair.’

  ‘And don’t you worry,’ Patrick chimed in, ‘we’ll save a keg or two for you. One, anyway.’

  And if that didn’t motivate the Seven to drag the army south, Krom knew nothing would. He shook hands with the knights in turn. ‘For Galandor.’

  ‘For Galandor,’ the trio chorused.

  Patrick belched. ‘For women and ale.’ He grinned at the dour group. ‘And there’ll be plenty of both at Obsidian.’ He tossed off a wave and headed for the door, leaving Krom shaking his head as he followed in his wake. ‘It’s going to be a long journey,’ he muttered.

  7.

  Tol stepped out onto the deck as the setting sun left a pale smear on the horizon, soft light playing across the tips of distant swells. He took a deep breath and felt almost at home as he ambled towards the ship’s foredeck. The salty tang was invigorating and refreshing after days in the crowded streets of High Mera. He stopped a moment, looking over the rail at the last halo of light on the horizon. Tol yawned, stretching his arms wide. He had dozed fitfully through the afternoon, haunted by misremembered snippets of dreams about Katarina. And, he remembered, Kalashadria. The angel had saved his life, just as Tol had saved hers. On the outskirts of High Mera they had been through something terrible together, and Tol knew he would never completely expel the terrible image of the angel chained in a cellar next to a pile of human bones from his mind. When he had rescued her they had sought solace in each other’s arms, one all-too-brief moment of passion that had reignited Tol’s childish dream of them being together – a dream Kalashadria had soon snuffed when she realised. A kindness, perhaps, to not let him hold onto it for a while longer, but it didn’t lessen the sting of the dream’s breaking. A small thing really, Tol thought as he felt the sea’s lullaby rhythm caress the ship, so why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like a betrayal? He had been warned so many times about trusting Kalashadria that Tol had stopped listening, but in the end his companions had been right. As they had parted ways in the aftermath of love and death Kalashadria had revealed how she had deceived Tol, keeping from him the knowledge that a demon was likely the source of the trouble in High Mera. That was what really hurt, he thought, that she didn’t trust me, that she thought I might balk and run, and break the vow I made to her.

  He sighed and walked towards the prow. Most of the crew were belowdecks now, but he spied a familiar outline further forward, elbows resting on the rail as the man peered out over the sea.

  Tol joined Kartane and the pair watched the sun sink from sight, leaving only a grey glow in its wake. Neither spoke for a few minutes, just watching and enjoying what felt like a rare moment of peace. It seemed to Tol that he hadn’t stopped for weeks: since his escape from Icepeak he had crossed an entire nation pursued by mercenaries, sailed to Sudalra then Meracia, killed two demons, and made love to an angel. Every day, it seemed, was a darting run from one catastrophe to another, one bad decision to the next. And Tol still wasn’t sure whether he had already made another one since boarding the Sea Crow.

  ‘You were right,’ he said to Kartane. ‘I told the nuns.’

  Kartane looked puzzled for a moment, finally realising what Tol was talking about long after anyone sober might have done. ‘How did they take the news?’

  ‘Not well.’

  Kartane gave Tol a closer examination and grinned. ‘Which one gave you that black eye?’

  ‘Bruna.’ Tol grimaced and ran a finger over his eyebrow. There was already a noticeable swelling. ‘She’s faster than she looks.’

  ‘The mighty Tol Kraven, felled by a girl. Now there’s a tale for the bards.’

  ‘Hardly a girl,’ Tol muttered, ‘I’ve seen weaker smiths.’

  Kartane just laughed, so Tol left him and walked to the prow, standing exactly where Stetch had done hours earlier. He peered into the gloom but all he saw was darkness.

  ‘Will the nuns behave?’ Kartane asked, ambling over. He stopped a few feet away and leaned on the rail. ‘It won’t end well if they start trouble.’

  ‘Yes, they promised they wouldn’t start anything.’

  ‘Ah, now that’s not the same thing, is it?’

  ‘We should probably keep an eye on them,’ Tol agreed. He smiled as an idea struck him. ‘Which is why you will keep them busy with sword practice.’

  ‘Now why,’ Kartane growled, his voice dangerously low,
‘would I do that?’

  Ah. I guess he’s not as drunk as I thought. ‘Because if they start a fight with the crew I don’t see us surviving. And,’ Tol reluctantly admitted, ‘we don’t know what’s waiting for us. We might just need their help.’

  Kartane considered it. ‘I suppose it might pass the time, but you owe me a lot of drinks for this, boy.’

  And what about all the ones I already bought? Tol wondered. Although, if he was honest, it was Duke val Sharvina’s gold he had used to buy Kartane’s numerous drinks. He decided not to mention that though. ‘Deal,’ he said instead. He scanned the horizon ahead of them one last time, but it looked just as barren as before. ‘I can’t see their ship.’

  ‘It’s night, idiot,’ Kartane told him.

  ‘And you’re looking in the wrong place,’ a voice said behind them. ‘She’s off to port – east to you land folk.’

  Kenzin Morrow was standing with one arm pointing into the gloom. ‘We changed course earlier this afternoon.’

  ‘Why aren’t we following them?’

  Morrow’s eyes flicked briefly to Tol’s sword, and he realised one hand was already on the hilt of Illis’Andiev. Tol reluctantly let go. ‘Why?’ he repeated.

  ‘Because I already know where they’re going.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Siadendre. No doubt about it, that’s where your friend’s bound.’

  ‘So—’

  ‘—Why aren’t we following them?’ Morrow finished. ‘There’s not much on the seas right now, not bound for the Spur anyway. If I kept us on their course they’d realise right away we’re following them.’ He idly scratched his beard. ‘I’m taking the Crow south instead. It’ll look like we’re heading for one of the small trading ports west of the Spur but we’ll turn east before the coast. There’s fast currents there and the Crow’ll make up the time lost from taking the longer route.’

  Tol allowed himself to relax. ‘That actually sounds like a good plan.’

  Morrow took a step forward, leaning forward so his face was close to Tol’s. ‘Whatever else people say, Kenzin Morrow ain’t no fool.’ He turned as they heard a sputtering cough coming behind them.

  ‘Kenzin Morrow?’ Isallien’s voice sounded rough as bark. ‘You’ve put us on a ship with the Band of Blood?’

  Tol brushed past Morrow, raising his hands as he saw the look of fury on the Meracian knight’s face. ‘There was no other choice,’ he said.

  ‘Stand aside, Kraven. Icepeak will be avenged, even if you don’t have the stomach for it.’

  ‘I can’t let you do that,’ Tol said as Isallien took another step forward, bone-white knuckles wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword.

  ‘You choose that butcher over your Reve brothers?’

  ‘It isn’t about that.’

  ‘So it’s for the girl then? You’re betraying the Reve for—’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ Tol hissed. He stepped forward, his fingers balled into fists. ‘Don’t you dare say it. Katarina’s the woman I – I owe my life to,’ he stammered. ‘I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. She saved my life while you and the others were planning how to kill me, so if you don’t like it you can jump overboard for all I care. I didn’t ask you to come!’

  Isallien shook his head. ‘The angel chose her champion poorly,’ he said, all the heat gone from his voice. He spund on his heel and stormed off without another word.

  ‘That’s your idea of putting in a word with the Reve, is it?’ Kenzin Morrow said behind him. He didn’t sound particularly happy.

  Tol sighed. ‘It seems lately that all I do is make things worse.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry, boy,’ Morrow said cheerfully. ‘He’ll calm himself or get tossed overboard. No,’ he continued amicably, ‘your real mistake was in leaving your back to your enemy.’

  Tol froze. Ah. ‘My enemy are the Gurdal, and the demons they serve.’ His mouth felt suddenly dry.

  ‘Right answer,’ Morrow chuckled. Tol felt movement behind him, then rocked on his heels as Morrow slapped his back. ‘Besides,’ Morrow added as headed away, ‘seems right now you ought to be more worried about your friends than the Band.’ He disappeared belowdecks, his coarse laughter fading to a distant echo.

  Kartane appeared at Tol’s elbow. ‘The woman you “owe your life to”?’ he asked.

  Tol could hear the amusement in his voice. ‘Yes,’ he said, hoping he wasn’t blushing.

  ‘Does she know?’

  How does he always know? Tol chewed his lip. ‘No.’

  Kartane gripped his shoulder. ‘Seems a good reason to find her while she’s still alive, eh?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tol said. ‘Isallien…’

  ‘Don’t you worry about him. We’ll have a few drinks together and I’ll set him right.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Kartane shrugged amiably. ‘Don’t thank me, the drinks are going on your account.’

  ‘But you didn’t pay for that cask in the first place!’

  The humour disappeared from Kartane’s weathered face. ‘It’s the principle of the thing.’

  Tol nodded. ‘Fine.’

  Kartane took a step towards the hatch then stopped. ‘Does she know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘That you screwed an angel,’ Kartane said quietly.

  Tol shook his head.

  ‘Might want to not tell her about that,’ he said with a cheerful grin. ‘Women can be funny about that kind of thing.’

  Tol swore softly, the sound drowned out by Kartane’s laughter as the knight headed below. Tol followed with a shake of his head. He caught a glimpse of Isallien as he passed the cabin, and heard Kartane say, ‘Let’s drink,’ just before the door closed.

  I almost feel sorry for him, Tol thought as he reached his own cabin. He opened the door and took a step inside but stopped as he saw Victoria and Stetch sitting next to each other on Stetch’s bunk. They both looked up at the same time, and Tol suddenly felt he was intruding. The low, animal growl from the back of Stetch’s throat just confirmed it.

  ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, backing out and closing the door behind him. He turned round reluctantly and began to retrace his steps. It was all perfectly innocent, he told himself as he realised he couldn’t delay what he had been dreading any longer. They are old friends, and probably haven’t seen each other for a long time. His footsteps were slow and sluggish as he climbed the stairs, but his mind kept coming back to the image of Stetch and Victoria looking up at him from the bunk.

  So why did they look so guilty?

  Tol shook away his musings as he stepped out onto the deck and made his way back to the prow. It was fully dark now, and thick clouds obscured the stars overhead. If Ammerlac hung overhead he couldn’t see it, but Tol knew she would be up there somewhere, toiling away in the strange worldholme or trying to bring a charred garden back to life.

  He gripped the prow and raised his head to the sky. For a minute he stood there, savouring the feel of the chill night wind on his face and the salty tang that reminded him of a time long ago when life had been simpler – a time before he was sent to the Knights Reve, a time before he knew the terrible truth about the war they waged.

  This isn’t going to be pleasant.

  ‘Alimarcus,’ he began. ‘There’s been a slight change of plan…’

  8.

  Tol sat down cross-legged facing the prow and waited. He had been putting this moment off for as long as he could, but now he knew he couldn’t leave it any longer. Night had fallen on the sea and the crew was all but bare save for the helmsman some distance behind him. Part of him hoped she wouldn’t come. Perhaps Alimarcus would not deliver the message, or perhaps Kalashadria would judge the journey from the worldholme down to Korte too dangerous, too risky just to admonish him. It was, though, unlikely. But there was a part of him too that longed to see the angel again, to just be in her presence or listen as she lectured him.

  For a while Tol just sat there, listening to the ge
ntle murmur of the sea as it fondled the hull and the occasional snap of sail as the wind rose and fell with woman-like indecision. And then she was there, a bright stone dropping from the night in front of him, the angel’s wings flaring out with a snap the sails couldn’t match. She landed perfectly on the prow’s tip, the uneven rail groaning as it broke Kalashadria’s descent.

  Tol looked up into her eyes, and a single glance stirred conflicting feelings within him; memories of the previous night fought against his longing for Katarina and anger at the angel’s deception lay underneath like spring grass under the last of winter’s snow.

  She crouched there, wings slowly folding up behind her shoulders. For long moments neither moved as each considered the other and how to break the awkward silence.

  Kalashadria, of course, was first. ‘You are needed elsewhere.’

  For a moment Tol longed to shout, to deny whatever she claimed – a small grain of revenge. He sighed and nodded slowly. ‘I know.’

  ‘We must stand against the Demhoun and their slaves together. What you are doing puts both our people at risk.’

  Her words were calm, and there was no anger to them. Tol found his own ire fading and he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm to rekindle it. They had been through so much together these last weeks, that what place had petty games or arguments? Besides, he reluctantly admitted, she knows me too well. It was, after all, hard to hide anything from a creature that could – even if not fully – see into your mind and know your thoughts and feelings.

  ‘It was always about you,’ he said. ‘The army needs you, not me.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Kalashadria admitted, ‘but I need my friend by my side.’ Tol detected a flutter of irritation through their link, then the angel added in a whisper, ‘I do not wish to face them alone.’

  He looked up sharply, and was reminded how young the ivory angel appeared. True, she was ancient by his own standards, but Tol remembered Kalashadria explaining that – by the standards of her own people – she was little more than a youth; not yet fully considered an adult. ‘I have a debt to repay.’

  Another flicker of irritation crossed her face then Kalashadria smiled. ‘I had forgotten how stubborn you can be.’