The King of the Vile

by David Dalglish

  “Men and women of Mordeina, I thank you for coming,” he said. He stood before the throne with wings folded behind him and arms stretched wide in a welcoming gesture. Alric could tell every scrap of it was a lie. “The words I speak will echo through the ages, and you will one day consider yourself blessed to be present at such a monumental event.”

  Harruq tensed, and Alric could hardly blame him. Nearly everyone of mortal blood looked anxious and afraid. Azariah tilted his head higher, smile widening as if oblivious.

  “Since the army of Thulos was broken, and the followers of Karak scattered to the far reaches of the world, we have all witnessed the evolution of the world. Much has been for the better, but sadly much has not. For those who do not know, Ashhur has fallen silent. His words no longer reach our ears. We do not feel his presence amid our prayers.”

  Azariah’s smile faltered for the slightest moment before he continued: “Are we to believe Ashhur has abandoned us? That he has left Dezrel without guidance or wisdom? No! I reject this belief with all my heart. This blessed land, and you faithful people who live upon it, have been entrusted to us, a returning to our role as Wardens when your race was first given life from the dust. We are to be Ashhur’s voice. We are to be his hands and tongue in a land still mired in sin.”

  The angels in attendance cheered, and Alric cringed. Harruq sat perfectly still, his hands clenching the hilts of his sword so tight his knuckles were as white as Azariah’s feathers.

  “We have failed in our responsibilities,” Azariah said. “We have tried to implement grace and forgiveness through courts and trials that account for neither. We have attempted to find justice in a system of lords and kings that knows no meaning of the word. On this night, let us cast off all worldly failures that have come before and declare a new country. Let the name of Mordan be forgotten, for we now reside in Paradise. Let the power of lords and ladies be cast down and made equal to those who toil the fields and wear fingers raw upon the loom. We were fools to wait so long, cowards to use such a tentative touch. This task is above all others, for what could matter more than the redemption of mankind? No longer shall we be mere judges, but instead enforcers of salvation, preparing all who live to find peace in Ashhur’s eternity instead of Karak’s fire.”

  Cries of surprise and worry sounded from all directions. Even the crowds outside the city seemed to hear, for their murmurs joined the rest in a wave of fear that seemed unable to drown out Azariah’s silken words. Still oblivious to the unrest, Azariah pulled out a rolled scroll from within his sleeve and carefully unfurled it.

  “Those who steal, who murder, who rape, who deny Ashhur’s authority, who profess faith in Karak, who break sworn oaths, who destroy what is not theirs, and who profane the bodies they were blessed with, shall be forced into penance overseen by an angel of Ashhur. Once penance is completed, execution shall follow, ensuring your soul passes on to Ashhur instead of committing additional sins. We stand not in the now, but before the lengths of eternity, and we shall act accordingly. Mankind is weak. It is fallible. You are doomed to fall to the dirt, and we will no longer cower in it with you. We shall pull you to the heavens against your will if we must. We are not your servants. We are not your slaves. We are your teachers, your fathers, your masters, your kings.”

  A pall spread over the people of Mordeina. Azariah sat upon the throne, and the angel holding the gold chest carefully opened it. From within he pulled out a heavy crown of silver bedecked with rubies and sapphires. Alric recognized it immediately: The crown of the shadow king. All was as he’d seen it, which meant it was time for him to step forth. It was time to be the messenger Ashhur asked him to be.

  No, Alric pleaded silently. He hunched over beside Harruq, shaking. Too many eyes. Too many people. Azariah seemed bathed in holy radiance, and his power was now absolute. What did it matter? What could he say that would change a thing? He didn’t even know what words to speak.

  “Please,” he prayed, voice but a whisper. “Please, don’t make me do this. I can’t...I can’t. This isn’t fair. My wife, my children, they’ll all be lost to me, can’t you see that? Can’t you see!”

  No answer. No vision. Nothing.

  “I have spent the ages studying the teachings of my god,” Azariah said. “No man, woman, or angel knows the heart of Ashhur better than I. No longer shall he remain silent, for I am now his voice. Hear my words, and know they are Ashhur’s. Look upon me, and know you look upon the face of your savior. Just as Ashhur reigns in the golden hereafter, so too must he reign here in Paradise, and I shall be that king in his stead.”

  Alric remembered his guilt for the life taken at his hands. He remembered the message of repentance he’d heard, the moment he’d fallen to his knees and given over everything of himself, all that was good, all that was evil, and received only love in return. As Alric watched the white-haired angel set the silver crown upon Azariah’s head, rage pulsed through every vein in his body. Like Alric, the people of Dezrel would kneel in search for the grace of Ashhur, but all they’d see was Azariah’s smiling, haughty face. They would pray for forgiveness but receive hatred. They’d see a crown that demanded love and gave none in return. They weren’t individual beings to be saved, but cattle to be herded from green pastures to gold.

  Azariah was the highest ranking priest bearing wisdom of the centuries, and Alric but a lowly farmer, but he understood Ashhur better than the angel did. Vision turning red, he rose from his seat. Before Azariah could speak another word, Alric stepped out from the crowd to address the new king of Paradise.

  25

  Harruq listened to the angel’s proclamation, shocked still as stone. He’d feared Azariah would declare himself king, but this...this was madness. Azariah was demolishing everything mankind had ever created, replacing human courts and laws with those solely dictated by the angels. People would have no say, no control. They were at the mercy of angelic feathers, with death awaiting all who strayed. It was madness. It was insane. Butchers pretending their swords carried salvation. This was what he’d bled for? This was what Haern, Delysia, Brug, and countless others had died fighting for? This...this perversion?

  “This is wrong,” Aurelia whispered. “People will die before they submit to such measures.”

  Harruq knew that was true, too. The riots, the midnight fires...they would only be the beginning. Bloodshed was coming, and Harruq felt helpless to stop it. Whatever power he’d had was gone. The angels had stripped him of it, and with the lords’ army facing King Bram in the south, his two twin blades were all he had to fight back. Two blades against thousands. What would he accomplish other than his own death?

  Alric suddenly leapt from his seat and into the open space before the red dais. The man was unarmed, his clothes covered with dirt and stains. The angels surrounding Azariah reached for their weapons, but they hesitated. The king of the angels leaned forward in his throne, eyes narrowing as he listened.

  “My ears burn from such holy lies,” Alric shouted. “You say Ashhur is silent, and that you speak for your god. You say he is absent, and it is your place to fill the void. But he is watching, he is listening, and I tell you now, he is angry.”

  The angels stirred and the crowd murmured, stunned by the haggard man’s audacity. The noise should have drowned Alric out, but he continued on, his voice barely audible above the din. No one moved to stop him. It seemed every angel in attendance was frozen where they stood.

  “You say you no longer hear the words of Ashhur, but you have stopped listening! So listen now. I come bearing his message, and woe to all who must hear it.”

  Harruq felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Who was this strange man?

  “There will be death,” Alric whispered, as if only to himself, yet still Harruq heard. The voice was different, somehow. Tired. Deep. Powerful. “There will be bloodshed. But it won’t be in my name.”

  The man’s entire body shook. His fists trembled, and when he spoke, it seemed he was losing control. Alric brought
his gaze to Azariah, pointed a finger, and shouted out his message.

  “It was here you Wardens first returned to mankind. It was here you were sent to guide them, to lead them as your children. And now, before those very same walls, you profane the people you were meant to protect. You spit in the face of the sacrifice you were meant to cherish. An act of humility summoned you, and an act of pride will banish you. I see your crown! I see your throne placed on high so you might rule. Do you hear me, wayward children? Do you listen now? This is my voice. This is my command.”

  His next word echoed throughout the city, splitting the sky and rumbling the very earth itself. It was a cry of rage that stole Harruq’s breath away and flooded every corner of his mind with terror.

  “FALL!”

  A sound like thunder rattled the amphitheater. As one, the angels fell to their hands and knees. Their bodies shook like leaves in a storm. Their feathers rippled and darkened, becoming pitch-black. Their skin drained of color until they seemed ashen dolls painted gray. The white of their robes lost all luster, fading to a pale, ugly color. Whatever was once gold, from rings to necklaces to armor, turned the color of bleached bone. Their hair withered like straw, their fingernails blackened, their eyes turned gray, their teeth became sharp-edged fangs.

  It was all over in the span of a second, but it seemed to linger on forever as Harruq watched with his jaw hanging open. Silence had fallen over the crowd, but now that silence was broken by the angels.

  They screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

  “We need to get out of here, now!” Harruq shouted to Aurelia as the humans in attendance shuddered awake as if from a dream. Panic quickly followed; the frightened, confused cries of people still in shock. Harruq felt an incredible need to get away, to hold Aubrienna in his arms and know she was safe. Aurelia’s hands twirled and a portal opened before he could voice his fears.

  Harruq looked back to Alric. Unlike the others, the haggard man stood perfectly still, eyes never leaving Azariah. The angel king rose from his throne, black feathers dripping from his wings. His silver crown had turned to bones that protruded out from his flesh in painful, jagged angles. Azariah grabbed the sword from an angel beside him and held it with both hands. Alric bowed his head. With a single swing, Azariah cleaved the man’s head from his shoulders.

  As if given a signal, the rest of the angels drew their own weapons and dove at bystanders with frenzied cries. Worried panic became full-on terror as men and women shoved toward the exits of the amphitheater in a vain attempt to escape. Aurelia took Harruq’s hand, pulling him into the portal. A moment later they stepped out onto the top of the outer wall surrounding Mordeina.

  “What is this?” Harruq said, spinning around to face Devlimar. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Aurelia said. “All I do know is they’re in pain, and they’re going to make us feel that pain. Thousands will die this night. Devlimar won’t be a city of silver and gold, but of bones.”

  Even from great distance they could hear the roar of thousands of voices crying out in unison. Those along the outskirts of the angels’ city fled toward Mordeina like thin trails of ants. Harruq saw the fallen angels lashing through those nearest to Devlimar, striking them down.

  “They’re butchering them,” Harruq said, a flash of anger finally pushing through his shock to wake his limbs and mind. “Butchering them like animals.”

  How many had gone out to bear witness to the proclamation like Azariah had demanded? Five thousand? Six? A terrifying number of dead, but it seemed it wasn’t enough. A legion of black wings took to the starry sky, flooding out from Devlimar in all directions like bats exiting a cave.

  “Let’s go,” Aurelia said, opening another portal. “We need to get Aubrienna somewhere safe.”

  “You want to flee?” Harruq asked his wife as the swirling blue tear in reality appeared before them. “We’re to leave everyone to die?”

  “What else are we to do?” Aurelia asked. She pointed to the sky full of black wings, darker than the night itself. “They’ll be here any second. There’s no time to warn anyone. No time to muster defenses. We have to act now, and as best we can.”

  Harruq slammed a fist against the side of the wall. “They’re rabid dogs! And now they’re coming here!”

  “You want to fight them?” Aurelia asked. She grabbed his hand, which pulsed with pain from striking the hard stone.

  “I do.”

  “And so do I. But we’ll fight when our child is safe, and not a moment before.”

  She leapt through the portal, and after a moment’s hesitation, Harruq followed. He reappeared at the steps of the castle, the portal swirling shut behind him. Two soldiers on guard duty snapped to attention at their sudden arrival..

  “Run to your families, both of you,” Harruq ordered. “Protect them the best you can.”

  “Protect?” asked one of the guards. “From what?”

  Harruq pointed at the black wings in the sky. “The angels.”

  They didn’t seem to understand, but Harruq feared they would soon enough. He turned from them and ran down the steps, silently wishing them luck before barging through the castle doors. Aurelia easily kept pace as they raced down a side hall toward the dungeon entrance. It was in the far back of the castle, well-guarded with two separate doors, each one locked and operable from the outside only. Most importantly, there were no windows. They passed by the occasional servant or guard, and Harruq shouted the same warning to them all.

  “Get to your rooms and lock the door. It’s not safe!”

  They were almost to the dungeon when Harruq heard the first screams. A shattering of glass, certainly of a breaking window, punctuated the death cry. Harruq winced but continued on toward the entrance of the dungeon. The soldier on guard sprang to attention, nearly knocking his helmet off with his frantic salute.

  “Steward?” the soldier asked.

  “Get the doors open,” Harruq ordered. “We’re under attack.”

  He’d thought he’d have to explain, but anger sparked in the soldier’s brown eyes.

  “It’s the angels, isn’t it?” he asked as he spun about and jammed a key into the lock. “Sir Wess warned us this might happen.”

  Good for him, Harruq thought as the door opened. Two more soldiers stood within, and they began unlocking the second door when they saw Harruq dressed in his armor. The sounds of death and destruction echoed down from above. After a moment of fiddling with the key, the second door opened, and Harruq led them all inside.

  The dungeon was empty of occupants, a side effect of having angels in charge of justice instead of far slower courts. A small round table was near the entrance, and a trio of soldiers stood at ready, weapons drawn. They visibly relaxed when they saw it was Harruq who entered.

  “Did the announcement not go well?” one asked.

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Harruq said. “Where’s the kids?”

  “Asleep.”

  The guard pointed to a corner where a dozen bright-colored pillows had been tossed together to form a bed. Gregory and Aubrienna slept side-by-side underneath a thick white blanket. Under normal circumstances Harruq would have found it adorable, but under normal circumstances they wouldn’t have been hiding from insane angels inside a damn dungeon. Harruq scooped Aubrienna into his arms. The little girl groaned and turned, fighting to stay asleep. Harruq shifted her onto his left arm and shook Gregory with his right.

  “Come on, up, up, the both of you,” he said.

  “What’s going on?” one of the guards asked.

  “Ashhur turned his back on the angels,” Aurelia explained. “They’ve gone mad and are slaughtering everyone. We need to flee to safety.”

  Both children reluctantly woke, muttering incomprehensible sentences as they rubbed at their eyes. Harruq hefted them both onto his shoulders while Aurelia ripped open another portal.

  “Inside,” she ordered. “All of you.”

  The soldiers looked betwee
n each other, uncertain.

  “You heard her,” Harruq barked, his patience worn thin. He stepped on through himself. His surroundings changed within the blink of an eye; he now stood atop a thick layer of leaves, staring up at pleasant starlight. The leaves crunched beneath his heavy boots as he stepped away from the portal to allow room for the soldiers who followed. They were at the edge of a shallow pool of water surrounded by a copse of trees with thick, sprawling branches. The moon reflected off the water, which rippled gently from whatever life existed beneath the surface.

  Aurelia appeared last, and the blue portal vanished back into nothingness.

  “Where is this?” Harruq asked, looking around.

  “Two miles north of Mordeina,” Aurelia said. “I go here sometimes when I need to get away from you.”

  “Wonderful. You’ll have to show me sometime when it’s daylight and we’re not running for our lives.”

  Harruq set both children down beside the nearest tree. Despite his efforts, neither looked ready to wake, and he wished he’d grabbed a few of the pillows before dashing inside the portal. Brushing Aubrienna’s hair away from her face, he kissed her cheek and whispered goodbye.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Aurelia frowned. “We’re not leaving them.”

  “Those angels are slaughtering everyone,” Harruq said. “We have to go back and save those we can.”

  “Do we?” Aurelia asked, staring at their sleeping child. “We have to protect our family, Harruq. We do that here, not back in Mordeina.”

  Harruq reached out for her hand, squeezing her slender fingers tightly. “We can’t abandon the people. Not when we can help so many.”

  “But what if we make a mistake? What if I lose you, Harruq? What if they lose us? Would you have Aubby grow up without her parents?”

  “And how many little girls are dying right now?” he asked, a knot in his throat. “How many children are losing their parents? We have to do something. We have to save who we can.”