Angel's Truth (Angelwar Book 1)

by A. J. Grimmelhaus

  Tol felt her knees shift, and glimpsed Katarina out of the corner of his eye, her face framed by long dark hair, hanging loose and shimmering in the faint glow of moonlight piercing the glade.

  ‘I thought we were friends.’

  She flicked his wrist and Tol grunted as the pain increased. ‘You’re a spy.’

  ‘If that were true,’ she said quietly, ‘you have just done something very foolish.’

  The pressure on him suddenly eased, fingers releasing his wrist as Katarina rose. Tol rolled onto his back, and drew in a deep breath as he looked up at her. ‘You’re not going to kill me?’

  ‘I learned a little Yie’Den-Su from my siblings,’ she said. ‘A lady ought to be able to defend herself from overzealous suitors, but I hardly think that is reason enough to wander round this dreary, permanently frozen nation murdering anyone who looks sideways at me.’

  ‘You’re a spy.’

  Katarina said nothing for a moment, and Tol held her gaze as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

  ‘It is not as simple as that.’ She glanced to her left as Stetch took a couple of steps towards Tol. ‘Now you decide to get involved?’ Her voice was high, brittle. ‘Leave him be, Stetch.’

  Tol tensed as her companion took another step closer. He wore an unsettling expression.

  ‘Well?’ Katarina asked Stetch, her voice rising. ‘Are you going to start a fire or stand there like a simpleton?’ She leaned forward, offering her hand to Tol. He ignored it and hauled himself to his feet.

  ‘Sounds pretty simple to me,’ he said, watching Stetch depart. ‘You’re either a spy or not; I don’t see how you can be half a spy.’

  ‘Please stop using that word,’ Katarina said. ‘I am not a spy, you fool man.’ She tossed her head back and snorted. ‘But why should I tell you anything when you refuse to explain your own circumstances? I have suffered your evasions and outright lies, even though they placed Stetch and myself in danger. No,’ she said slowly, ‘more I will not say unless you tell me about this mess you have got yourself into. By the Prophet, I might even be able to help you!’

  ‘It’s no mess, it’s… whatever’s a hundred times worse than a mess.’

  Katarina leaned forward and brushed some of the dirt from Tol’s furs. She stepped back and sank to the ground, her back against a tree. She smiled and patted the frozen earth beside her. ‘You might as well as have a seat,’ as Stetch returned with a bundle of twigs. ‘By the time Stetch gets a fire going it could be next year.’ She smiled, and as Tol dropped down beside her Katarina glared at her tight-lipped companion.

  ‘And if I had failed to defend myself,’ she asked Stetch, ‘what then would you have done?’

  ‘Laughed,’ Stetch grunted. Tol thought he saw the man wince slightly as Katarina’s brow garnered fresh thunderclouds. Stetch glanced at Tol and added, ‘Then killed him.’

  She sighed. ‘Get some more firewood.’

  *

  Katarina surprised Tol by agreeing to take the first watch. He sat beside her, the two of them leaning against the tree while Stetch curled up on the far side of their small fire. They sat in silence for a long time, neither moving as they watched the flickering lights of the campfire.

  ‘I will not ask of your burden again,’ Katarina said at last, ‘but know this: if it is within my power and does not endanger my homeland then I will aid you if you but ask.’

  Tol nodded. ‘Thank you. That…means a lot.’

  ‘Whether from me or someone else, it is clear you cannot do what is asked of you alone, Steven.’ Out of the corner of his eye, Tol saw her take her gaze away from the fire. He turned towards her, and their eyes met.

  ‘The women at the convent were not killed by the Band of Blood,’ she told him quietly. The corner of her mouth arched, as though Katarina was about to confess a crime. ‘A demon killed them, and now it knows your name.’

  She had spoken so softly that it took a moment for the meaning to register in Tol’s mind. ‘A demon?’

  She nodded, and it felt like the first honest thing she’d said. ‘Stetch saw it. There was nothing he could do.’

  A wet branch crackled, and Tol started, laughing quietly at himself as he settled back down with a relieved sigh. ‘Jumping at a fire,’ he muttered, shaking his head.

  ‘You find this amusing?’

  ‘He made it sound so simple: deliver a message to the convent, that’s all.’ Tol snorted. ‘There was me, thinking of meeting a bunch of pretty nuns and all the while I was running headlong into a bloody disaster. I swear the abbot must be howling in his grave.’ He laughed again, and heard the bitter edge to it. ‘This isn’t turning out quite how I expected.’

  Katarina scowled at him. ‘You did hear what I said?’

  ‘Some Pit-spawned demon wants me dead?’ Tol nodded. ‘Over the years most people have had it in for me. Now a demon? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.’

  ‘I must say, Steven, you are taking the news better than I thought.’

  ‘Always assume the worst,’ he muttered, remembering his father’s advice. He shook his head. ‘You said Stetch saw the thing?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I thought you people didn’t believe in angels and demons. Don’t you worship some prophet or something?’ Tol forced a smile. ‘Doesn’t that mean that we were right and your people got it all wrong?’

  ‘We do not worship the prophet Thirellius, Steven, we revere him and his wisdom, and try to follow his teachings, each of us striving to reach enlightenment.’ Katarina turned away, the dying fire bathing her face in soft light. ‘But you are right,’ she said, ‘my people have no interest in angels or demons, the Maker or his counterpart. It is not that we do not believe in them, we just do not feel the need to worship them.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand. What if there really is a Maker who decides our fates in the afterlife?’

  ‘You do not sound so certain yourself; do you believe in the Maker?’

  ‘I…’ Tol faltered. ‘I haven’t really thought about it much. I mean, I hope He does exist, but I don’t know for sure.’

  Katarina nodded slowly. ‘And so it is with many of my own people as your church spreads its silky words in ports and taverns the world over.’ She sighed. ‘It is a nuance of our beliefs: we seek to live our lives peacefully, treat others with kindness and respect – as we would hope they would treat us – and generally reach our deaths satisfied that any mark we left on the world was a positive one. The Prophet teaches that this is the path to enlightenment. If the Maker exists then he would surely see the good we have done and grant us entry to Heaven, do you not think?’

  Tol shrugged. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Or do you think only those who blindly follow the church’s teachings will be granted entrance? What of those who do evil in the name of the Maker? They may not know what they do is wrong, but they do it nonetheless. Yet they believe – should they sit at the Maker’s side? Do they deserve to?

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘but where is the line? And who decides?’

  Tol’s head was spinning. ‘The Maker?’

  ‘Yes, perhaps,’ Katarina conceded. ‘But would he admit only those who had believed in him, or would any who had accumulated more good deeds than evil be allowed into Heaven?’

  Tol pondered this a moment. ‘You mean,’ he said slowly, ‘that a man who doesn’t believe in him may still be admitted to Heaven if he was really good, if maybe he did something that made a difference? Something important?’ Something, he thought, like saving the Church itself.

  Katarina threw up her hands. ‘Who can say? It seems a more sensible way of judging people though, don’t you think? The Maker and Demmegrahk: both paths promise much, but who knows if they will deliver? The Prophet, though, walked this world before either one was known to the people of Korte. He does not promise a life beyond this, nor threaten sanctions to those who stray from the path of their god. Thirellius teaches us to cherish the l
ife we have, to rejoice in its simple pleasures, and to guide those less fortunate than ourselves so that they too might find wisdom and peace.’

  ‘Does he say anything about angels or demons?’ Tol asked with genuine interest. ‘Surely if they’re real, then the Maker is real?’

  ‘And Demmegrahk, lord of the demons,’ Katarina added sombrely. ‘If one exists, so too the other. No, there is nothing in his writings to suggest Thirellius was aware of either. There were, however, earlier religions – this was before your church came to prominence, and many gods with many names were worshipped.’ Her eyes left the fire momentarily, stealing a glance at Tol. He reluctantly pulled his eyes away from her, suddenly aware he had been staring.

  ‘Thirellius believed that an enlightened man had no need of gods,’ Katarina said, ‘that having a deity to blame and praise allowed a man to shed responsibility for his actions. Do you understand?’

  ‘Uh-huh. So he didn’t say anything about demons, then? Like, maybe how to kill one?’

  She laughed lightly. ‘You are such an uncomplicated man, Steven; I like that about you. I tell you your god might be a delusion, and you just move on and ask to how to kill a demon!’

  ‘Well, if I ever meet the Maker I’ll be sure to ask how he judges people, but if that demon finds me first…’

  ‘Yes,’ Katarina agreed, ‘I do not think it will indulge in pleasant conversation over tea.’

  Tol spat out a laugh as the image formed in his mind. ‘No, I suppose not.’

  Katarina reached across and squeezed his hand. ‘I hope it does not find you.’

  ‘Yeah, me too.’

  ‘Steven…’ Katarina’s voice sank to a whisper as she released his hand. ‘It scared him. Stetch would stand against the whole Band of Blood if I but asked, but seeing that thing at the convent… it shook him. I didn’t think anything could rattle that man.’

  ‘A demon would frighten the wits out of any man,’ Tol said, ‘and a man that didn’t believe in them, well, I reckon that would be worse.’

  Katarina leaned forward and rummaged through her pack. Tol heard a whispered squeak of triumph, and she leaned back against the tree, a small silver flask in her hand. She unscrewed the cap and hoisted the lip to her mouth with the exuberance of a sailor, taking a deep draught before passing it wordlessly to Tol.

  Tol took a moderate swig, gulping down the liquid before realising what it was. He croaked and coughed and spluttered, passing the flask back as tears filled his eyes, dimly aware of soft, musical laughter. ‘What is that stuff?’

  ‘The finest Sudalrese brandy,’ Katarina replied between muted laughs. ‘It will keep you warm through the night.’

  They passed the little flask back and forth in silence. After a few minutes Tol felt Katarina’s weight shift, and she leaned in against his shoulder.

  ‘He’s the only man I know who stood up to him, you know? Faced down the duke and held his own by all accounts. Ah, I wish I could have seen that. Hard to imagine anything frightening a man who would stand up to the old wolf.’

  Tol figured Katarina was talking about Stetch again, but the duke? One of the monks had lectured him and the other boys on Sudalrese nobility. They were almost as bad as the Meracians, with silly, flowery names that proclaimed their pomposity. Tol’s attention had lasted less than usual that day, but he was pretty sure there was only one duke in Sudalra. ‘The Black Duke?’

  ‘So you have heard of him? Yes, Duke val Sharvina himself. Stetch and the duke had a row that servants could hear the other side of Castle Black.’ Katarina chuckled. ‘I would have thought tangling with a demon would have seemed tame after an experience like that.’ Her smile faded. ‘The demon was at the convent and…I think it may have visited Icepeak also.’

  Tol stiffened at the mention of the abbey. ‘What?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure,’ Katarina told him, ‘but there was a footprint in the snow, one Stetch could not identify. It definitely wasn’t human.’

  ‘Could have been an animal.’

  ‘No,’ she replied sadly, ‘I don’t think so. One of the monks… there wasn’t much left of him but… it looked like a wild animal had ripped out his insides. It toyed with him,’ she added in a tremulous whisper, ‘like a child might pull the wings from a fly. Whatever the demon wants, it will stop at nothing to get it.’

  And what it wants right now is me, Tol thought, knowing the same thought was going through the pretty little head nestling against his shoulder. They had been meant as a warning, but Katarina’s words gave him hope; not much, but just enough to hold him to his course. ‘It’s not very good at looking,’ he said after a moment. ‘It has been more than two days since the abbey was attacked, and it still hasn’t found me.’

  ‘It has the mercenaries for that,’ Katarina told him. ‘Once they find you, then it will come.’

  Tol nodded. If Katarina was right, that’s what had happened at Icepeak. ‘Have you heard of any demon sightings before this one?’ he asked.

  ‘Before now? The ravings of madmen, but nothing believable.’

  ‘No,’ Tol said, ‘neither have I. So why? They clearly exist, so why don’t they want to be seen?’

  ‘Perhaps because they look so terrible it will turn people against them.’ Katarina drew in a deep breath. ‘This demon has only been seen at night, or far from crowded areas; if you can reach Karnvost it may not follow you.’

  Tol nodded; it was what he had been thinking, too. The mercenaries would be on his heels, but it was easy to get lost in a city. Then he remembered, and the last of his hope slipped away with a heavy sigh.

  ‘Steven?’

  ‘I have to find the Seven.’

  ‘Ah. So the Knights Reve are still led by seven of their order.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The talk in the taverns is the Reve are marching east to the capital.’

  ‘I know,’ Tol said, ‘I heard the same thing. I won’t be able to stay in Karnvost.’

  Katarina was quiet a moment. ‘There’s a lot of open country between Karnvost and Kron Vulder.’

  ‘Yes. I guess I’ll just have to find a way to kill the demon before I leave.’

  She shook her head. ‘Steven… if the look I saw on Stetch’s face is anything to go by, I’m not sure such a thing is even possible.’ She gripped his upper arm, clenching her fingers in a gesture of support. ‘I’m sorry,’ Katarina told him, ‘but perhaps your church’s book was wrong. Or perhaps the demon was already dying when your Seven set upon it.’

  Tol jerked upright, banging the back of his head against the tree and causing a flurry of snow to descend on the pair of them. ‘Ow! Sorry,’ he added as she shook flakes from her hair. He grinned and lurched at Katarina, planting a dry kiss on her cheek before she could object. ‘You’re brilliant,’ he told her.

  ‘I… well, of course I am.’

  ‘There’s a way to kill it, all right,’ Tol told her. ‘I, um, just need to remember. I read it somewhere.’

  ‘Good,’ Katarina yawned, ‘you can tell me about it in the morning.’

  *

  Tol waited. When he was sure Katarina was asleep, he waited a little longer – just to make sure. The Sudalrese woman was devious and clever, and Tol couldn’t be certain she hadn’t noticed his hastily fabricated lie. He waited another five minutes before reaching over to his pack and extracting the wrapped package within. He unfolded the cloth and placed the book on his legs, tilting it forward so that the fire illuminated the writing. If the details are anywhere, he thought, they’ll be in here.

  19.

  I had never thought to see so many people in one place. The crowds that had gathered in the streets of the Meracian capital seeking to catch a glimpse of the warriors entering the tourney had outstripped any I had witnessed – more even than the King’s court in Kron Vulder. Yet on the walls of the first Desolate City I was educated again as to how small a soldier thinks. Thousands of Gurdal streamed across the desert, first appearing like a horde of angry ants until,
as they drew closer, the full size of their force became evident. Half the men of the world it seemed, with murder in their hearts. We were many, the core of the Meracian army, the city’s own poor defenders, and the few hundred knights who had come for blood and glory. I remember, clear as day, the silence that fell when the masses closed in and every soldier saw his doom fast approaching. And into that void: rich, bass laughter. He howled, thumping his thigh and pointing at the seething mass.

  ‘Now that’s what I call a fight, lads,’ Kur rumbled. ‘They’ll sing the songs of today for ages to come. Our victory will long be remembered.’ He drew his sword and shouted, ‘For glory!’

  The insane bastard’s cry was taken up by others and soon we were all taken with the fervour, roaring and shouting at the tops of our voices along with Kraven. A single man, who galvanised the city’s defence with little more than laughter and insanity, and when the ranks began to form it was Kur again who stood at the front, straining to burst through the city’s gates and fall upon the enemy. It was the first time I had seen the Havakkian madness up close, dancing in his eyes like fire, and as I witnessed it I understood why a dukedom had seemed a small price for my king to pay for that island’s loyalty. A small price indeed.

  Hope and fear mingled with the stink of sweat as ranks of Meracian soldiers formed up. Every man knew the casualties would be horrific, but the bravery of those in the front lines was the very best aspect of the Meracian people. I saw, too, the very worst: Grenellian. A soldier by appointment only, it was the general that commanded the army stake its position beyond the city’s high walls, and no amount of reasoning or pleading on my part, or that of his subordinate captains and lords, would steer him from his course. Even Kraven’s outright threats of violence had little effect on the man, except to nearly see the first blood spilled was that of our own troops. Every night since that day I wake in a cold sweat – even out here in the desert furnace – and it is Grenellian’s name I curse for the countless lives needlessly lost. And I must take my share of the blame for those deaths, because it was I who stopped Kur Kraven from running the general through. Yet despite this, Kraven stood with us at the centre, grumbling right up until the first blows were struck. The two of us and all the other knights who had travelled to the Spur wore full armour, a shiny, sweaty wall of steel barring the way to the gates.