A Sliver of Redemption h-5

by David Dalglish

  “That rush left Kinamn here lightly guarded,” Ahaesarus said. “And it also left the barons to prepare without danger or harassment. So months later, when the demons fled the other way, chased by us, Theo White gathered everyone under his banner. His army is the strongest, his command the wisest, and without his brother to compete for inheritance, he was an obvious choice for leadership. They stormed the walls only weeks ago, defeating the few demons stationed here. At the very least, Omn is now free of the demons’ presence.”

  “But for how long?” Tarlak asked. He pointed a finger at Ahaesarus. “You know they’re coming, and this time with a god on their side. Theo can’t possibly think these walls will matter, or that we can hold them.”

  The angel shook his head.

  “No, he doesn’t,” he said. “But his preferred defense for his country…it is careless. Dangerous. I hope in my heart your king Antonil can persuade him off such a course. I fear he won’t. Until then, though, we must prepare. We do not know what Thulos will do, but I doubt he will come as quickly or as recklessly.”

  “He can’t,” Aurelia said. “The portal’s closed. His demons are now limited, and with every death he grows weaker. He’ll need men. Lots of men.”

  “That is Theo’s thinking,” said Ahaesarus. “Felwood Castle and Angelport are the two most likely places. It will take time to reach either of them.”

  “Will Thulos get them to switch?” Harruq asked. “Conquer them, make them serve his rule?”

  Ahaesarus sighed.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Time will tell. I have little hope, though.”

  “Isn’t that what your kind is for, hope?” asked Aurelia.

  The angel smiled, but sadness hid in his eyes.

  “I am here for this,” he said, patting the sword at his side. “Nothing else. Come the battle, I will slay the enemies of Ashhur to protect the lives of this world, and will do so until my last mortal breath. I know of nothing else.”

  Harruq took a drink as the conversation quieted, worried by the strange chill that danced down his spine.

  7

  T essanna watched the campfires flare to life across the plains with idle curiosity. The war demons were well practiced at their nightly duties, but this night they seemed tense. She knew they were approaching the lands guarded by Felwood Castle, but was it possible the creatures of battle felt nerves and doubt like everyone else?

  She huddled closer to her own fire. She felt dirty and pathetic. What had happened to the goddess? At one time she had walked through the crowd of warriors proudly, almost daring them to lay a finger upon her pale skin. Now she quivered when they glared. She’d been afraid before, but not like this. She’d felt pain before, but not like this. She wasn’t master over her fear. Pain came and went whether she allowed it or not. Through it all haunted the specter of Velixar, watching with his red eyes, touching her with his dead flesh.

  It’d been six days since she’d last eaten. The simple wooden band, the one she’d worn on her finger nearly all her life, she’d cast aside during their march. Its magic had allowed her to eat only rarely, and very little when she did. She didn’t want that anymore. Hunger stabbed her stomach, but she welcomed it. When she looked at herself, she saw a skeleton barely hanging on to life. Her hair was matted and unevenly cut. Not even when given the chance did she wash herself. She wasn’t killing herself, but it was close. She was killing her beauty.

  But it hadn’t been enough.

  “Your eyes,” Velixar said as he sat beside her. He kept his arms crossed, his hands thankfully not touching her. “I’ve seen that look in dead men and women. You are still alive. What haunts you?”

  “Rest your silver tongue,” Tessanna said. “You know I don’t believe a word it says.”

  “I never lie,” Karak’s prophet insisted.

  “Your greatest lie of all.”

  He chuckled, anger lurking beneath the sound. He touched her hair. She didn’t bother to hide her shiver.

  “We are not far from Felwood,” he said, gently fondling the dirt-streaked strands that fell all the way to her waist. “There will be servant girls, baths, clothes fit for royalty. This rough travel does not suit you.”

  “I am not your princess,” Tessanna snapped. “I’m not your whore, either. I’m nothing. Even the weakest of men could gut me with a sword.”

  “I don’t want you for your power,” Velixar said. “A power that may or may not return.”

  “Then what is it you want?” she asked. She hunched her shoulders and looked away, unwilling to see that look in his eyes. The look she’d seen in so many men, though not always as frightening or dangerous.

  “I want to break you,” he whispered into her ear. “You were Qurrah’s, but he never deserved you. You are the greatest woman of our time. You belong to the greatest man of all times.”

  “You are bones and rot,” Tessanna said, but her voice lacked conviction.

  His fingertips brushed her neck, then slid around her like a serpent. She was thin, so thin…

  “I could snap your neck right here,” Velixar said. Stars swam before her eyes. “I could strangle every bit of life from you, then raise you to be my queen. Qurrah is out there, my greatest failure. I will return him to Karak’s fold. I will show him his error. When I do that, my love, I want you there. I want you to watch as he falls to his knees and begs me for forgiveness. I want you to see his tears and hear his wretched brokenness.”

  His grip relaxed, and she gasped in air.

  He’s mad, she thought. Madder than me.

  “Will you want him, then?” Velixar asked. “When he bows before me like a beaten dog, will you still view him as your husband and master?”

  Words of a spell came to her, so simple, so common to her former life. She grabbed his wrist and whispered them. Nothing happened. No fire. No magic. Velixar heard them and sneered, his ever-changing face a fluid mask of hatred and lust.

  “You’re abandoned,” he told her. “My god is a god of order, and you know what goes hand in hand with order? Control. I have years, Tessanna. I know you are starving yourself. Keep that up, and I will have my undead force rotted flesh down your gullet. I know you shred your hair and dirty your skin. Come the castle, you will clean yourself, or I will give you to the men of Felwood, all of them. Perhaps even the demons will wish to partake. When Qurrah sees you, I want him to see everything he lost in forsaking me.”

  “He never lost me,” she whispered.

  Velixar flung her to the cold earth.

  “Open your eyes,” he told her. “You two are done. Should he beg for forgiveness and rejoin our faith in Karak, his first task will be to execute you. If he refuses Karak, then you will kill him for his blasphemy. There is no hope, not for either of you.”

  Tessanna heard his words and could hold back no longer. She sobbed, feeling the weight of the passing months crashing down upon her. She begged for Qurrah’s arms, to hold Teralyn and feel life, to be a mother and a wife, to be powerful and beautiful. Nothing. She was nothing.

  “Sleep alone tonight,” he told her. “I have prayers to make.”

  He left her.

  T essanna slept deep into the morning. The war demons were already preparing to march out when her eyelids flicked open. Groaning, she touched her throat and wondered how bad the bruise might be. Velixar’s words returned to her, and fearing his anger, she searched for something to eat. A couple of demons were rolling up their tent nearby, and she approached.

  “Food,” she said, as if she were a child. The demons ignored her.

  “Please,” she said. “I’m hungry.”

  One of them reached into his pocket, pulled out a small piece of bread, and threw it to her.

  “Enjoy it, whore.”

  She caught the food and let the words roll off her.

  “Thank you,” she said as she nibbled on one end, her nose crinkling at the smell. Her hunger was enough to overcome its foulness.

  She wandered north, followi
ng the march of the lead forces. Her bare feet ached, and often they bled. As she walked she remembered that initial flight with Qurrah, just the two of them fleeing west from the Eschaton. She’d been naked then, nothing to cover her feet, but despite that she’d felt comforted by Qurrah’s presence. Only Aullienna’s death had tormented her, but no wrappings could heal that. Only time, and only barely. She wondered if Aurelia still felt the pain as acutely as she did. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Tessanna felt herself an open wound. She was blood, bad blood. Maybe Velixar was Dezrel’s leech, drawing her in, breaking her down, cleansing the world of her presence…

  One by one the demons took to the air, until only the undead remained far ahead, having marched through much of the night to ensure they didn’t fall behind the aerial troops. With the plains now clear, Tessanna saw Velixar approaching from ahead, a sickly horse trotting beside him, its flesh pale and gray with faded black spots across its back.

  “I found a farm not far from here,” Velixar said once he was close enough for her to hear. “This foal was let loose.”

  “A foal?” Tessanna asked. She thought of Seletha, the magical steed she had ridden across the land. A fiery, majestic horse from the netherworlds. Yet she was to ride this…foal?

  “Do not worry about it bearing your weight,” said Velixar. “Nor will it tire or disobey.”

  Tessanna noticed how still the creature stood, lacking the in and out of its sides as it drew breath.

  “You killed it and brought it back,” she said.

  “Of course. It is more dependable this way.”

  Tessanna mounted the beast, doing her best to hold in her grimace. Riding beside Velixar atop a dead foal? What else could be more appropriate?

  “How will you keep up?” she asked.

  “You will ride alone,” he told her. “I will catch up, but for now I have my prayers and my legs. The demons are tired of waiting for us. It was either this or ride in one of their slings. I prefer my feet on the ground. Sleep if you can, for we ride all day and all night until we reach Felwood Castle. And don’t think of hiding from me. The moment you leap off, I will know. Stay seated unless you’d prefer to die crushed underneath hoofs.”

  “I’ll need to eat, pass water,” she said.

  “Tell the foal,” he said, sending her on her way. “I’ll hear.”

  And so she rode, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, she was alone. The northern plains passed by as the foal trudged along, silent as the grave it no doubt deserved to be within. She rode, and rode, stopping only to urinate or eat the occasional berries growing low on rare clusters of bushes. Without a saddle or stirrups, she had to clutch her hands about the dead foal’s neck. The smell made her sick. The touch made it worse. Her fingers ached, and her back screamed in protest.

  And she rode, and rode.

  T wo nights later the foal stopped. Tessanna more fell than climbed off. The contact with the ground knocked the air from her lungs, and quietly moaning, she waited for her breath to return. Her back and fingers were a constant throb of pain. She stank of rotting skin and decaying horse hair. The plains were coming to an end, breaking into soft hills and trees that grew tall, their leaves a green so deep they seemed wholesome. She had touched them whenever possible, clutching them to her chest as the undead foal cantered on. They had a pure scent, a temporary counter to the stench of her mount.

  “You’re a bastard,” she said, knowing Velixar could hear her. She wondered where he might be, how many miles away. The foal remained perfectly still, not even swishing its tail to scare away the flies that buzzed about.

  The nights were uncomfortably cold, a fire not needed to survive but needed to sleep well. So far, she’d had no fire, but now she saw the faint glow in the distance of many such campfires. The war demons were close. She’d kept up with them through the constant ride. Velixar had let her sleep only a few hours each night before the foal would wake her by pressing its snout against the back of her neck and nipping at her skin. The very thought of the creature’s teeth touching her sent a shiver down her spine.

  One of her favorite ways to start a fire, back when she still possessed her power, was to cut her flesh and set her blood aflame as it dripped upon the kindling. In memory of that, she clawed at her wrist with her ragged fingernails, feeling a burst of pleasure at the pain, pleasure that heightened when she saw the desired crimson flow begin. She had no real kindling, just a few twigs scattered about, but she piled them anyway. Drop by drop dripped down, and she blew upon them as they fell. No magic. No fire. Her tears ran down her face like the blood down her wrist.

  A strange sound reached her ears. She looked up, and was mildly surprised to see Velixar flying toward her, a dark specter of the night. Giant bat wings stretched from his back, shimmering in their blackness. Her chest ached as they faded away like smoke. She’d once possessed wings like that…

  “So much for your legs,” she said.

  Velixar stroked her face with his fingertips, a gesture that would have seemed loving if not for the wicked smile on his face.

  “We reach Felwood sometime before tomorrow night,” he said. “Thulos tells me a few scouts have spotted our approach, yet no army marches against us. They plan on hiding in their castle, which is perfect for us. The fewer casualties means the greater our army when they join our side.”

  “You seem so certain they will turn,” Tessanna said. She tilted her head to one side and watched the blood drip down to her elbow. A curious look on her face, she licked it, then spat, unsatisfied.

  “Your old ways are dying,” he said. “Celestia has abandoned you. Your blood, your pain, it no longer satisfies. In time, you will realize your desire for something strong. Something controlled.”

  “Assuming Qurrah doesn’t kill me.”

  Velixar narrowed his eyes.

  “No matter what happens,” he said, “I will treasure such a moment. You should as well.”

  She tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed her wrists. From her sitting position, she could do nothing as he forced her to the ground. He towered over her, the stench of death rolling down. Her heart hammered in her chest. His legs forced her knees apart. So cold, he was so cold…

  “I will take you,” he whispered. His face was beside hers, but no air moved across her. He did not breathe. There was no life in that being pinning her to the hard ground. “But when I do, it will be everything you could despise. It will be everything your fantasies cannot abide. Most of all, Tessanna…it will be willing. ”

  “Never,” she whispered back, tears running down the sides of her face. “I’ll never.”

  “There are so many pieces of you,” he said, rubbing his cheek against hers. “And how badly they’ve broken. Where is the animal? Where is the whore? And what of the child? You’re more whole than you’ve ever been, Tessanna. Don’t you realize that? I am what you need. I am the way to your salvation. Not Qurrah, and most certainly not the pathetic god he has turned to in his weakness.”

  Tessanna sobbed, thinking of the way Jerico had looked at her after she’d ridden him. All his love and mercy had turned to shame and disgust. She’d done that to him. By the gods, why had she done that to him?

  “I hate you,” she said. She felt her personalities swirling, a thousand colors blending together into some shapeless indecipherable smudge. Every single instinct inside her screamed to fall within, to retreat to another-the child or the being of apathy. But she couldn’t. They had left her. Velixar’s grip was tight, and her hands turned numb. She arched her back and screamed, once.

  Karak’s most loyal prophet struck her with his fist. The pain shocked her quiet. He glared down at her, an angered master, a ruling king upset with his servant.

  “Thulos will make the men of Felwood cower to his name,” he told her. “That is our way. Those who are strong will become weak, and their strength will serve that which they hoped to destroy. Your hatred means nothing. Your revulsions are pathetic. Go sleep in the cold.”

>   And like a beaten dog, she did as she was told, crying herself to sleep and wishing she were in Qurrah’s arms.

  V elixar woke her early that morning, the sun only a golden hint on the hills.

  “Get yourself ready,” he said. “I want to be there when Thulos reveals his godhood to the defenders of Felwood.”

  She urinated behind a tree, straightened her hair with her fingers, and then returned to him. He gave her nothing to eat. Instead, he nodded to the foal. After she climbed on, he joined her. If alive, the creature would have easily tired within moments, but its blood was still, and its strength dark in origin.

  “Do not be scared,” he told her as he wrapped his arms around her waist, so gently as if last night had never happened. “Time is of the essence. Let us see what this steed is capable of.”

  The foal galloped and Tessanna clutched its dead mane, every part of her trying to ignore the cold feel of Velixar’s touch. The foal galloped at a startling pace, the wind blowing through their hair. The ride was brutal, nothing absorbing the shocks of the occasional uneven step. A miserable hour passed. Tessanna felt certain the foal would fall to pieces after a day or two of such riding, but all they needed was a few more hours. At the summit of a hill, she looked down into a valley filled with fog that appeared to creep out from the forest at its far edge. The war demons massed in the center of the fog, marching instead of flying. Tucked against the forest, its walls weaving through the trees, was Felwood Castle.

  “They have rigged every tree to collapse,” Velixar said as the foal slowed. “The ivy on the walls hides a thousand razors, deadly sharp. I once had a troop of orcs attempt to climb them. They bled out before reaching the top.”

  “Sad for them,” she said, her voice an emotionless droll.

  They rode into the demons’ camp, then dismounted. After Tessanna leapt off its back, the foal collapsed. A wave of Velixar’s hand and his magic left it nothing more than a long-decaying corpse.