The King of the Vile

by David Dalglish

  Tessanna rose to her feet and smoothed out her plain dress. She seemed remarkably calm given the circumstances.

  “You’re trying to stand in a river, reshaping its flow without being pulled along with it,” she said. “You’re not often a fool, Qurrah, but I worry you play the part in this game.”

  “Angels from Mordan tried to kill us despite vowing to never enter Ker’s lands,” he said, struggling to keep his anger subdued. “If we’re ever to be safe, Bram needs to solidify his kingdom’s independence. I don’t care to stop this war, only ensure Karak is not the one who benefits. The angels have overstepped their bounds, and if Bram is right in claiming Harruq has death warrants on our heads, I wonder how much power he even holds anymore.”

  Tessanna listened, her expression as passive as stone. Qurrah stopped talking, and she pulled him closer by the front of his robes and kissed him. It was mechanical, lifeless, and he was glad when it ended.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice lacking any conviction. “Do what you want. I’ll be with you always.”

  It would have been better if she’d yelled at him, even threatened him with harm. Sighing, Qurrah wrapped his arms around her, kissed her forehead.

  “I only ask that you trust me,” he said softly. “The world is changing, and I’m not sure whether for good or ill. All I can do is what I think is right.”

  “That’s all we can ever do,” Tessanna whispered. “But sometimes what we think is right reveals itself to be so terribly wrong.”

  Qurrah knew immediately what gave her pause. Even years later, the ghost of Aullienna still haunted them both. He took his wife’s hand. “Come along. I want to be there when it begins.”

  They hurried into the bustle of the camp. At King Bram’s pavilion they found the flaps open. Bram was speaking with several of his generals as they stood over a circular table containing a map of Mordan. The queen was with them. If time and pressures of ruling had aged Bram, they seemed to have completely ignored Loreina. She was smiling, her youthful eyes seeming eager for battle. A pearl-white dress tightly clung to her slender body and her hair was carefully braided, wrapped around her neck like an ornate necklace.

  “Might we join you?” Qurrah asked.

  Bram looked up from the table and smiled warmly.

  “You are always welcome,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Qurrah said. He and Tess stepped inside, and he glanced at the generals. “Might we have a word alone?”

  They turned to their king, who nodded.

  “Go see to your men,” Bram said. “We march within the hour.”

  They filed out, leaving only Bram and Loreina. The queen clung to his side, her arms wrapped around his. Her eyes lingered on Qurrah, and he couldn’t shake his constant unease. The queen’s presence unnerved him more than the dark paladins. At least Karak’s followers he could understand.

  “You said you’d march into Mordan when the right time presented itself,” Qurrah said. “I take it that time has arrived?”

  “It has,” Bram said. “Are you ready?”

  “We are,” Tessanna answered for him. “When angels crash into your ranks from the sky, crushing your numbers with but a thought, will you be?”

  Loreina squeezed her husband’s arm tighter, and she grinned as if Tessanna were a little girl telling jokes.

  “There will be no angels, not according to what I’ve learned,” she said. “The creatures of the Vile Wedge have poured over the Gihon, united under a self-declared King of the Vile. They’re conquering the North, with apparent plans to form themselves a nation of their own.”

  “Is that so?” Qurrah asked, not sure whether or not to believe such an outlandish claim.

  Bram tapped the map and nodded.

  “With them forced to respond to such a threat, we can march on Mordeina without resistance for days,” he said. “Hard-pressed on two fronts, and with their king dead and the bulk of their armies crushed, Mordan will never be more vulnerable than she is now. We cannot afford to delay any longer. Angels crossed my border and killed my men. It’s time we repay them for their crimes.”

  Qurrah stared at Loreina. “There are many miles between here and the North. How do you know of the beast-man invasion?”

  “That’s my little secret,” she said with a smile. “I’m sure you have a few of your own.”

  “Come,” Bram said. He patting Qurrah on the back. “Join me on the front lines. Let’s find out just how committed Mordan’s troops are in defending the Bloodbrick.”

  They left the queen in the pavilion and traveled north through the encampment. Soldiers saluted and bowed, eagerness on their faces. They didn’t fear the coming campaign, and Qurrah could only assume it was because they’d not witnessed the ferocity of the angels firsthand. If they had, they’d realize this invasion would be met with devastating resistance no matter what their king told them. Qurrah glanced at Tess, still holding his hand. Granted, that was what they were for, wasn’t it? To be equalizers? The slayer of angels so Ker might remain free?

  A fool, Tess had called him, and as he stopped beside the king, he wondered if she might be correct after all.

  Ahead of them was the Bloodbrick, heavily guarded by the gathered might of all of Ker. On the other side, the token force King Antonil had left behind when he’d marched east awaited. Qurrah saw two hundred, maybe three hundred soldiers at most, rushing to prepare for battle as Bram’s army approached. They were so badly outnumbered. Qurrah couldn’t imagine them putting up much of a fight; hopefully they’d surrender, preventing needless deaths. A beam of light then shot into the air from the center of the Mordan encampment, lingering for a few moments before fading away as if it had never been.

  “Calling for angels,” Bram said. Qurrah nodded. He’d used one of those magical cylinders to summon a flight so he might visit Azariah in Avlimar. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The entire nation is filled with coddled children expecting Ashhur’s angels to do all their dirty work for them.” The king smirked. “They’re about to receive a painful lesson on their folly.”

  As the soldiers formed ranks, Qurrah spotted Xarl making his way through the crowd. He frowned, and had to bite his tongue to keep silent as the dark paladin joined King Bram’s side. The remaining nine of his order lingered behind, watching. Xarl smiled wide, dipped his head in respect.

  “What a beautiful day,” he said. “Do we at last march to war?”

  “We do,” Bram said.

  “Then the day only grows in beauty.”

  “I would expect your kind to revel in war,” Tessanna said. “Will you sing songs of praise as you murder and kill?”

  “In all we do, we praise Karak,” Xarl said. “And why should we not take joy in the first step toward freeing Dezrel from tyranny?”

  “Enough,” Bram said. “I won’t sit here and listen to you three bicker. Is there something you needed, paladin?”

  Xarl gestured to his fellow paladins. “We come ready for battle, and I ask that you grant us the honor of leading the charge across the Bloodbrick.”

  Qurrah’s immediate instinct was to ask Bram to deny them, but he knew such a request was pointless. The king would not let Qurrah’s opinion sway him. If anything, he’d let the paladins lead just to show Qurrah his place. Clenching his jaw, Qurrah waited for an answer. Bram turned to the bridge, narrowed his eyes, and stared at the steadily forming ranks of Mordan soldiers.

  “The front lines are yours,” Bram said. “Though this means you are part of my army, and I expect you to obey orders. Is that acceptable?”

  “More than acceptable,” Xarl said, his smile somehow spreading even wider. “Your soldiers will be inspired by our bravery and skill, I assure you. With our aid, even the angels pose no threat.”

  That was clearly what Bram wanted to hear, and he dipped his head in respect. Shouting out a command, Xarl drew his sword and led the dark paladins toward the bridge.

  “You let them take the glory for themselves,” Qurrah
muttered.

  Bram gestured to the pitiful defenses guarding the other side.

  ‘There is no glory here,” he said. “If Karak’s paladins want to bleed in place of my men, they are welcome to do so. I won’t sacrifice soldiers’ lives out of pride and cowardice.”

  Qurrah was fuming, but the argument was clearly over, so he shut his mouth. Keeping to the king’s side, he watched as the paladins formed a line ten wide at the first brick of the bridge. Already they were singing, their weapons wreathed with black flame. Kerran soldiers gathered around them, laughing and shouting curses at their enemies. It was a crude display, but the rest of the army appeared to enjoy it. Anything to take away their fear, Qurrah supposed.

  Sir Ian approached from the front lines, looking frazzled and nervous.

  “Are we prepared?” Bram asked, clapping his old friend on the shoulder.

  “We are,” Sir Ian said. “All we await now is your order to begin.”

  Bram hesitated, the gravity of the situation finally settling in.

  “There is no return, not from this,” said the king. “Send forward my soldiers. It is time we pay the blood price for our freedom.”

  “What we do, we do for the sake of all mankind,” Sir Ian said, bowing. “Whatever the price, we will pay it gladly.”

  The knight turned and began shouting orders. The paladins at the front heard, and they released one last cheer before stampeding across the bridge. Bram’s soldiers followed in a frightening tide of armor and blades. A handful of archers from the other side fired, but their arrows a nuisance at best. The dark paladins led the way at full sprint, unafraid of the arrows, unafraid of the hundreds standing against them on the other side. Qurrah felt a naive hope that they’d be crushed, but he’d seen the power of Karak’s paladins many times before, and knew exactly what would happen the second the battle began.

  It took less than a heartbeat. The dark paladins arrived, heralding a flood of Kerran soldiers, and the Mordan soldiers broke. Qurrah watched the dark paladins tear into their foes, flaming weapons easily punching through the chainmail. Most of the opposing soldiers flung down their weapons and fled, and to Qurrah’s relief, the paladins did not give chase. The more lives spared the better, at least in Qurrah’s mind.

  He glanced at the king. “It seems such a contradiction.”

  “How so?” Bram asked.

  “To keep yourself free from the rule of gods, you ally with warriors of a god,” Qurrah said, gesturing to the battlefield. “Or is it only Ashhur’s rule you fear, and not Karak’s?”

  “It is no contradiction,” he replied with a chuckle. Thankfully he didn’t seem offended. “We currently have the same goal: to remain free from the control of the angels in the north. Right now the ends are all that matters. When they have served their purpose, I will cast them aside.”

  Qurrah watched their leader, Xarl, rally his paladins. The man lifted his enormous sword above his head, crying out victory as black fire wreathed his blade. The name of Karak echoed across the bridge.

  “I do not think their kind is cast aside so easily,” Qurrah said.

  King Bram shook his head.

  “I survived the invasion of a god. I do not fear a few of Karak’s deluded followers.”

  Lifting his arms above his head, Bram let out a cheer, the smile on his face ear to ear. The Kerran soldiers cheered with him. Qurrah watched him as the army began to cross the bridge. Even when Karak’s priests had risen to power throughout Dezrel, emboldened by Thulos’s arrival, Bram had steered his nation through the dangerous waters with superb skill. With Mordan in chaos, from angels, beasts, and their dead king, it seemed Bram was destined for another skillfully earned victory. Except no matter how wise the course, Qurrah couldn’t shake his mounting feeling of dread.

  “Puppets,” Tessanna whispered, as if her own thoughts mirrored his. “We are all puppets.”

  “No,” Qurrah said half-heartedly. “We stopped being their puppets long ago.”

  “Then why do we march to war alongside Karak’s faithful?”

  It was a question for which he had no good answer. Sighing, he joined the thousands as they crossed the Bloodbrick. Heavy footsteps thudded on stone, armor and weaponry rattled. Qurrah felt himself swept along. When he reached the very end, he stepped aside and lingered while the remaining soldiers crossed. He stood on the very last brick of the bridge and stared west. Weeks ago, he’d entered Mordan in hopes of helping his brother solidify his rule. Now he sought to battle his brother’s army and weaken his angelic allies. How had the world turned upside down so quickly?

  “Forgive me, Harruq,” Qurrah whispered as he stepped onto Mordan soil. “But the angels must be stopped. In time, you’ll understand.”

  Ahead of him, Tessanna turned, face still a cold, unreadable mask.

  “Qurrah?” she asked.

  Qurrah did not answer, only took her hand and followed the road amid a sea of Kerran soldiers.

  10

  For Lord Richard Aerling’s sake, it was a good thing Harruq didn’t have his swords on him. If he did, he’d have already lopped off the chubby lord’s head and flung it out the window, like he had with Kevin Maryll. There wouldn’t have been any witnesses other than his guards, and surely he could convince them it was well-deserved justice...

  “Let’s try this again,” Harruq said, rising from the ornate throne to tower over the lord. “We wait days and days for your men to gather here, but now that they finally have, you want to march south?”

  Sweat dripped down Richard’s face and neck, but the man admirably held his ground. It only made Harruq want to strangle him more.

  “King Bram’s army has crossed the Bloodbrick, heralding the invasion we already warned you was taking place,” Richard said.

  Harruq felt like he was talking to Aubrienna during one of her stubborn fits. No matter what he said, no matter how stupid the opposing position, nothing seemed to get through.

  “Except there’s already an invasion to the north,” he shouted. “Half-human monsters of the Vile Wedge swarming across the Gihon, crushing the Wall of Towers? Slaughtering whole villages? Any of this ringing some fucking bells?”

  Lord Richard tugged on his collar.

  “They’re just animals. Savage animals. Dangerous, yes, but they’ll scatter and break as winter arrives, and they pose no real threat to the Castle of the Yellow Rose, let alone Mordeina. King Bram, however, has a true army, and a brilliant tactical mind to go along with it. We will not let them pillage our lands in the south just to make up for the failed defenses of the northern lords.”

  Harruq stepped down from the dais, put his face inches away from Richard’s.

  “I am steward of this realm,” he said. “I speak for the king, and I say you, and all your little lord friends, are marching north to save who you still can. Is that clear?”

  Richard entire body was shaking. He could have nodded, or shook his head no, and Harruq wouldn’t have known either way. Wishing he had something he could smash, Harruq was about to retake his seat when Richard spoke up behind him.

  “No.”

  Harruq slowly turned, staring at Richard as if the man had drawn a knife on him.

  “What was that?” he asked, the air in the throne room suddenly ice cold.

  Richard stood to his full height, which was still a good foot shorter than Harruq.

  “I said we won’t go. The others sent me here as a courtesy for you, and nothing more. Our minds are set. We’re marching south, to stop King Bram before he captures our lands.”

  Harruq flew down the steps with a single leap and slammed his fist into the chubby lord’s face. The man let out a cry as he fell to his back, blood sputtering from his nose and lips. Harruq towered over the moaning lord, hands clenched as he struggled to hold back his rage.

  “You would come here and tell me to my face you plan to commit treason?” he asked. “What makes you think I will let you leave here alive?”

  Richard clutched his fac
e, blood dripping between his fingers. When he spoke, his words were muffled.

  “Because you’re not a fool,” he said. “We’re marching to defend our lands, and when we crush Bram, we’ll turn our eyes to the north. But if you kill me, the rest will overthrow you and Gregory and appoint a new king of Mordan. There will be nothing you can do to stop them.”

  “I won’t need to stop them,” Harruq said. “The angels will.”

  Richard laughed despite his obvious pain.

  “Angels fighting human soldiers in the streets? You think you can control the riots that would follow, the upheaval that would sweep across the entire countryside?” Richard spat a wad of blood and phlegm at Harruq’s feet. “Even if the angels stopped us, they’d be too few to save you. Bram would walk into Mordeina, and after such chaos, the people would throw open their arms and beg for his rule.”

  It was an all-too-likely a scenario. Harruq reached down, grabbed Richard by the front of his shirt, and yanked him to his feet.

  “I may not be able to kill you,” he said, “but I don’t have to send you to your friends in one piece.”

  He slammed his forehead into the man’s already broken nose. Richard howled like a wounded dog as blood splattered everywhere. Harruq flung him toward the door, watched him roll.

  “Get out!” he screamed. “Run to your little pack of rats and get out of my damn city.”

  Richard staggered to his feet, still clutching his face with his right hand, and rushed out the door. The guards shoved it closed behind him.

  “Wess!” Harruq shouted.

  The older man had stood beside the throne during the entire encounter, and he sprung forward the moment he was called.

  “Yes, steward?” he asked.

  Harruq breathed heavily as he fought to calm himself down. “Send for Ahaesarus, and Sir Daniel Coldmine as well. If our armies won’t protect the northern lands, we’ll send angels to do it instead. In case I’m late, have them wait here for me.”

  “And where will you be?” Sir Wess asked.