Dark paladins were the next to arrive, and with flabbergasted looks they glanced around and wondered where the two could have possibly gone.
When they landed, and Deathmask let her go, Veliana promptly turned around and slapped him.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she said.
Deathmask grinned. A large pair of bat-like wings stretched from his back to either side of the houses they were hidden between.
“You don’t like heights?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen you use that spell before,” she said, nodding to the wings.
“I never have,” he said, knowing what she was doing but going along anyway. “Normally the spell creates a pair of arms with claws to help with climbing. I made a tiny change and hoped for the best. And, as you see, we’re still alive.”
She slapped him again.
“Never risk my life on such a wild guess again,” she said.
“It was my life too, you know,” he said, stalking after. But she would hear none of it.
6
Mira stood before the dead bush, watching it as it burned. Her hands slowly danced, her fingertips glowing with magic. With every twitch the fire shrank or grew, as if it were nothing more than a manifestation of the girl’s smoldering emotions. Sadness crossed her face, and the fire shrunk, dwindled, becoming nothing but a faint hint of heat and light burning dull in the dim light of the stars.
“You all right?” a voice asked. Mira glanced back to see Lathaar approaching, his arms crossed as if he were cold.
“I’m fine,” Mira said, looking away. She closed her eyes, and with every step closer the paladin came, the fire grew deeper.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” Lathaar said, standing beside her. His arm wrapped around her waist. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned against him.
“Something’s happened,” she said. “I’m not sure what it means.”
“Something?” he asked. “That’s a little vague. What’s bothering you?”
Mira gently pushed him away, then lifted her arms to the sky. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
“My mirror,” she said. “What happened to my mirror?”
The fire roared to life, higher and higher. It shot into the sky, a pillar of flame stretching to the heavens. Lathaar gaped at the sight, and without realizing it he stepped back as if afraid of the girl controlling the tremendous power. Then, with agonizing slowness, the fire lessened.
“Do you see?” Mira asked, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. The light washed over her in the gloomy night. “This is everything. My power used to ache within me, begging to be released. Now, the elements almost laugh at me, granting me their use for only a little while. My mirror…What happened to my mirror? Has Celestia abandoned us both? Am I to be punished for her actions? Or maybe this is my fault. I should be dead, Lathaar, dead and gone and with all of Dezrel better for it.”
Lathaar’s heart pained at hearing her words. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, ashamed for having feared her presence, if only for a little while.
“You are as powerful as you are beautiful,” he told her. “Never say such a thing. I need you here with me. I need to remember why this world is so precious, so valuable. Why we fight.”
She turned from the fire and buried her face in his chest. His armor was cold. This angered her for some reason.
“Will you want me to fight with you tomorrow?” she asked.
Lathaar nodded.
“At my side. We know the demons overran Kinamn when they chased us west. How many still guard it, we don’t know. If we’re to have any hope of rest, we need to retake the castle. Within should be some supplies, and more so, we won’t have to worry about them harrying us as we flee west.”
“If we flee west,” Mira said. “Many wish to stop and fight. Our numbers will grow no larger.”
“That’s not true,” Lathaar insisted. “We have but a fraction of Mordan’s troops, and our contact with Ker is limited. Antonil is their king, and both will muster forces so great in number even Thulos will fear our might.”
Mira laughed.
“He’ll fear nothing,” she said, kissing his chin. “Not us. Not our power. We’re playing his game, and as long as it is by his rules, we will lose.”
The two fell silent. The bush burned away to ash, its heat vanishing, its light gone.
“Let’s go to bed,” he told her. “Tomorrow will be a bloody day.”
“You go,” she said. “I’ll be with you soon. I wish a moment alone.”
He kissed her forehead, then gave in to her request. Once he was gone, she looked to the stars, a prayer to Celestia on her lips.
“Tell me what is right,” she whispered. “Tell me I have done no wrong. Tell me you love me, mother. Please. That’s all I ask.”
She went to Lathaar, having heard only silence.
Harruq stood beside Antonil, the two surveying the city in the distance from their spot atop a gentle hill.
“So you want me, Tarlak and the others to go crashing in, kill a bunch of demons, and basically distract them while the angels open the gates?” he asked.
“That’s the plan, yeah,” Antonil said. “Ahaesarus seemed to think it was workable.”
“Uh huh.” Harruq scratched his chin. “Care to answer me a question? Whose banner is that flying above the towers?”
Antonil squinted, his vision nowhere as excellent as the half-orc’s.
“I can’t tell. What’s it look like?”
Harruq frowned.
“Let me see…looks like a giant axe with a bloody handle.”
“That’s the White’s family banner,” said Antonil. “They’ve been flying that one for years.”
“So not the demons.” Harruq pointed. “So why is it up there above the city?”
This time it was Antonil’s turn to frown.
“You know, that’s a very good question.”
Behind them stretched the remains of Mordan’s army, preparing weapons and gathering into formations under Sergan’s sharp commands. The angels circled above, also preparing. Only one angel, Ahaesarus judging by his size, remained earthbound, talking with Tarlak at the outskirts of the human camps. Antonil put his fingers in his mouth and whistled until the wizard finally looked over.
“What?” Tarlak asked as he approached, adjusting his hat on his head. Ahaesarus followed, curious.
“I need you or one of Ahaesarus’s angels to fly over and survey the castle,” Antonil said. “Either that, or you open a portal and sneak in to look around, Tarlak.”
“I can send one of my scouts,” Ahaesarus said.
“An excellent idea,” said Tarlak. “As are all ideas that won’t get me needlessly killed.”
“You work for me, remember,” Antonil said.
Tarlak winked.
“Still waiting on my pay.”
They waited as Ahaesarus took to the air, called over one of his angels, and sent him toward the castle.
“So what’s going on, anyway?” Tarlak asked as they watched.
“Something’s strange here,” Harruq said. “Just keep your fingers crossed.”
“Toes, too,” said Antonil. “I’d love to escape this morning without a battle.”
A few minutes later the angel returned, a smile on his face.
“My lords,” he said as he landed with a great rush of air and rustle of feathers. “I have a wonderful surprise for you.”
The troops marched toward the gate, the men singing songs and cheering. The men on the walls cheered back in return, and sang their songs all the louder as the angels neared. Antonil led the way, Ahaesarus at his side. The Eschaton hung back, preferring to let the king handle the first introductions.
“You were the one here last,” Harruq asked Tarlak. “What’s going on?”
“Their king was dead,” the wizard said as they walked, raising his voice to be heard over the throng. “Some lord named Penwick went to great pains to hide th
at fact, because the various other lords were going to tear themselves to pieces vying for the throne. When we left, Penwick was still in charge. I can’t imagine he fared too well when the demons came flying in.”
“Then who’s this White guy?” asked Harruq. “Where’d all these troops come from?”
“That,” said Tarlak, “is something I’m assuming we’ll find out very soon.”
Aurelia slipped her hand into Harruq’s.
“I guess this is one of those times where you’ll tell me to behave?” the half-orc asked.
Aurelia kissed his cheek.
“You’re learning.”
They passed through the gates to fanfare and cheers. Many troops lined the walls, but despite their numbers, there was no hiding the city’s decimated state. No merchants filled the rows of broken stalls. No men wandered the streets to their smithies and bakeries. The walls guarded a ghost town, and that silence seemed to fight against the cheers of the defending soldiers.
An honor guard approached from the castle, banners held high, all of them of the axe with a bloody handle. Only one rode on horseback; the others were on foot with their shields polished and their hands on their swords. Antonil stepped forward, and at their approach he bowed low, then waited for their host to speak first.
“Welcome,” said the mounted man. He wore armor but no helmet. His face was long, his eyes green and his hair brown. A long but well-trimmed beard grew to the bottom of his neck. “My name is Theo White, and I am king of Omn.”
“Greetings,” Antonil said. “I am King Antonil, lord of Mordan and Neldar.”
“Then like me, you are king of nothing,” Theo said, a bitter smirk crossing his face. “Come, let us return to the castle. Our provisions are few but should fill your bellies. But first, I must be introduced to your rather odd companions.”
At first Harruq thought he meant him until Ahaesarus stepped forward. He chuckled, relieved to realize there were far stranger looking people than him now travelling with them.
“My name is Ahaesarus,” the angel said as he bowed. “I offer you the blessings of Ashhur, and thank you for your hospitality.”
“Keep your blessings,” Theo said. “But I’ll take your swords and spears. Come, to my castle. You have questions, I’m sure, and I’ll do my best to answer.”
He tugged on the reins. The honor guard pivoted, and back to the castle they travelled.
“Delightful fellow, isn’t he?” Harruq muttered.
For once, Aurelia didn’t jab him in the side.
Qurrah watched the procession enter the city, and with every cheer they made, his spirits sank further.
“Damn fools,” he said to himself, for he was alone atop a small hill that looked down upon the fortifications. He sat huddled with his arms crossed over his chest, his chin resting on his forearms. He’d told no one he would stay behind, and no one had even noticed his departure, not even Harruq. Was he still so invisible to them?
“It’s hard returning here, isn’t it?” asked a voice behind him. Qurrah startled, then felt his cheeks flush.
“What would you know about that?” he asked.
Jerico sat beside him, his armor clinking. He put his mace on the ground to his right, away from Qurrah. In silence the two looked upon the town, each lost in their memories.
“They won’t recognize you,” Jerico said.
“That’s because I killed them all,” Qurrah said. He shook his head. “I once entered through those walls a conqueror. I won’t do so now as if I am their savior.”
“You were just one of many,” Jerico said. His red hair blew in the soft wind. “You only opened the gates.”
Qurrah laughed, the sound mirthless and tired.
“That is all I’ve done,” he said. “I brought Tessanna into our lives. I cursed Aullienna. I retrieved the tome to open the portal for the demons. In everything I do, I open the door for death and torment. At least I killed Delysia myself. At least I can feel that guilt warm on my hands, just like her blood…”
He fell silent.
“Guilt is heavy,” Jerico said. “You can pretend it’s not there, but once you feel its weight, there’s no easy escape.”
“Why are you here?” Qurrah asked him.
The left side of Jerico’s face curled into a smile, bitter and sad.
“This hill,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “This is where Velixar nearly broke my faith. This is where I watched hundreds of innocents die. And this is where I slept with Tessanna.”
“I promised to kill you for that,” Qurrah said, feeling his whip tighten around his arm.
“You did,” Jerico said, chuckling.
They both watched the city, watched the banners of the White family flutter in the breeze.
“Why?” Qurrah asked.
“Because I’m human. Because she…”
“No,” the half-orc interrupted. “Not you. Her.”
Jerico scratched at his chin, obviously uncomfortable.
“She felt you judged her,” he said. “She felt with you she had to be strong. You were always taking from her, relying on her. If she broke, if she fell to sadness or despair…would you have been there for her?”
“Of course I would,” Qurrah said, his voice a whisper.
“But did she know that?”
Qurrah had no answer.
“She wanted to break me,” Jerico said when it was obvious the silence would stretch indefinitely. “She wanted to prove I couldn’t be as forgiving as I claimed. She was right.”
“Do you hate me?” Qurrah asked after shaking his head.
Jerico glanced over.
“Yes. At times.”
“You watched me aid in the deaths of hundreds.”
Jerico nodded. “I did.”
“Yet I’m still alive.”
Now the paladin had no answer.
“No one is as good as they claim,” Qurrah said, standing. “But you’ve never claimed to be perfect, Jerico, only that you desire to be. Your failure does not deny that perfection. The fact that you haven’t killed me is proof enough. But I think I know what it is Tessanna desired from you. What she’d never have gotten from me, for I’d never felt it myself.”
“And what is that?” Jerico asked.
“Forgiveness. For Aullienna. It haunts her. Now Velixar’s got her, he’s twisting her, trying to break her like he tried to break you. Should I ever see her again, what will be left of her? A shattered thing? Will I even know her?”
Jerico clapped Qurrah on the shoulder.
“Come on,” he said. “I’m hungry, and this hill makes for poor sleeping. Our friends await.”
“I have no friends,” Qurrah said.
“Don’t be so melodramatic. Your family, then.”
He offered his hand, and Qurrah took it.
“All right, but if anyone tries to kill me, you better protect me.”
Jerico winked.
“We’ll see.”
They returned to the city.
The feast was meager, but Harruq was still thankful. It seemed like it’d been ages since he’d eaten in a chair at a table. They gathered in the great hall of the castle, with six long tables, three of them empty. Antonil and Theo sat opposite each other, with a few knights and angels between them and the Eschaton. Harruq absently chewed on some bread far too stale for his liking and watched the two kings talk.
“What are we missing out on?” he asked.
“Since when did politics interest you?” Tarlak countered.
“It might affect his food,” Aurelia said. “That keeps him interested.”
“I’m serious,” Harruq said, clearly insulted. “We’ve marched in here expecting to fight, and instead find troops of some king that I sure don’t know.”
“You’ve barely been outside of Veldaren,” Aurelia said. “Of course you don’t know anyone.”
“I recognize the name,” Tarlak said. “That Pensely guy said that a baron named Gregor White was expected to become king
, but then he died with no clear heir between his two sons.”
“Sounds like Theo was the stronger of the sons,” Aurelia said. She pushed away her plate, having no appetite for the light meal. “I wonder where the other son is. Dead, perhaps? Hanging from a branch by a rope? Maybe just jailed in a tower somewhere.”
“Careful,” said Tarlak. “You might be discussing a deep dark secret of this majestic White empire sure to rise in these final days.”
Harruq rolled his eyes.
“Master of sarcasm, you are not.”
“Better than you, oh master of the subtle.”
Further down the table, Ahaesarus excused himself, stood, and then moved to sit with the Eschaton.
“I saw your stares,” he said as he folded in his wings so they wouldn’t brush against Tarlak. “I assure you, the plans being made are far less interesting than you might assume.”
“Tell us anyway,” said Aurelia.
Ahaesarus leaned back and crossed his arms as he thought over everything the two kings had said.
“We will remain here for a time,” he said, figuring to start with the most certain. “I’ll have angels patrolling all across the Kingstrip. Thulos and his troops won’t get within a hundred miles of here without us knowing. Until then, we’ll gather what soldiers we can and train them. As for what we do once the demons make their move…”
He gestured to where Antonil and Theo argued, their conversation having grown rather heated.
“That is still uncertain. I fear King White’s desires are too fatalistic. He is convinced the world is coming to an end, and he seeks glory and blood to be his burial shroud.”
“Who is this guy, anyway?” Harruq asked. “No one’s told me anything. How’d he become king? How’d they retake this castle?”
“Did he defeat his brother after the city fell?” Aurelia asked.
“No,” said the angel. “His brother was here when Karak’s troops slaughtered everyone. Evidently only a token force garrisoned the walls. Once the barons discovered the destruction, they began mustering troops. The demons were careless, and instead of consolidating power they continued after us.”
A Sliver of Redemption (Half-Orcs Book 5) Page 7
