Harruq looked out the windows toward the inner parts of the city. The bulk of the demons were flocking toward a single building. It was the angels’ temple, he remembered from his little time spent in Avlimar. It made perfect sense for Ahaesarus to make his last stand there.
“We’ve got to get to the temple,” he said, pointing. “Can you walk?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m cut, not dead. And I can do you one better.”
The elf peered out the window, focusing on the temple. After a moment, she closed her eyes and cast a spell, summoning a swirling blue portal before her.
“Let’s go,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him through.
He felt a rapid moment of vertigo, then took in his new surroundings. They were inside the temple, its vaulted ceiling hundreds of feet above them. The windows were filled with painted glass, many broken and cracked from the fighting. They’d entered beside a wall not far from the doors, where the angels formed ranks to fight off the swarming demons.
“Watch the windows,” he heard Ahaesarus shout, and Harruq glanced back at one behind him depicting a single tree growing alone in a field. A shadow passed over it, and then a war demon came crashing through.
“Down!” Harruq shouted, pulling Aurelia with him. They hit the ground as the demon rolled over them, still struggling to draw his weapon. As his wings unfolded, Harruq leapt atop him, slamming his head with his fists.
“Harruq!” Aurelia shouted, tossing him one of his dropped swords. He snatched it out of the air and thrust it between the wings, the blade scraping against spine. Twisting it free, he glanced back up to view the combat. More demons were crashing through windows, their wings folded against their sides to prevent injury. Ahaesarus’s angels rushed to meet them, while at the far back, Azariah and his angel priests cast waves of blessings, healing wounds and bolstering the morale of the defenders.
“Join them at the back,” Harruq said, grabbing his other sword. “Do what you can to protect them with your spells.”
“And you?” Aurelia asked.
He gestured to the main conflict at the doors.
“Where else?” he asked.
Before he could go she grabbed his armor, pulled him close, and kissed him.
“Don’t die,” she said before hurrying to the angels at the altar, stopping twice to hurl bolts of fire through the windows at attacking demons.
Harruq forced himself to look away to the task at hand. He didn’t know how many were left throughout the city, but less than fifty angels held the temple, with Ahaesarus leading them. Twirling his swords, he barreled through their ranks to the center, joining the leader’s side.
“I’m glad to see you safe,” Ahaesarus said, disemboweling his foe with his enormous sword. “I feared the worst.”
Harruq parried a glaive, stepped forward, and tore out the demon’s throat with Condemnation. When another thrust his sword, Harruq shoved it upward, his blades crossed. With his right weapon he shoved the attack aside, and his left, stabbed. Blood spilled from the demon’s neck as he gasped for air. When he fell back, a third came flying in, hurling a spear. Harruq tensed, realizing he had no time to dodge, but then Judarius was there, slapping the projectile to splinters with his mace.
“On your toes, half-orc,” the angel said, his face wrapped in bandages. “I will not be denied more duels because of your sloppiness.”
Harruq chuckled but held back his retort. The sight outside the temple was too horrific for even him to joke about. War demons by the hundreds were funneling toward them. They came in great waves, putting all of his skill to the test. He slashed and spun, giving every movement over to his deeper instincts, honed to perfection by thousands of hours practicing with Haern. Whenever one scored a cut, he never felt it, though he knew the blood ran freely down his armor. One after another he cut them down, matching even Judarius in kills.
“Fall back!” Ahaesarus cried. “Too many come through the windows!”
Harruq yanked his sword free of a punctured armor piece and stole a glance back. Even with Aurelia’s magic, the few angels could not hold back so many pouring through.
“Go!” he screamed, shoving Judarius back. “I’ll hold the doors!”
Half the angels retreated further into the temple, coming to the aid of their hard-pressed companions. Ahaesarus remained, along with two others. Side by side, they filled the great entryway to the temple.
“You do your mortal brethren proud,” Ahaesarus said in the brief lull as twenty demons circled in the air, preparing for another rush.
“Not done yet,” Harruq said, his chest heaving up and down with each breath. “And don’t think you are, either.”
He heard spells explode behind him, screams of death, and blades tearing flesh. He prayed Aurelia was safe among them, but he couldn’t dare look. Down came the demons, their glaives leading. They had to bank upward just before hitting due to the way the stairs led to the door, and that brief slowdown was enough to keep Harruq and his allies from being slaughtered. They twisted and parried the sharp tips of the glaives, though one of the angels gasped as it pierced through the bone of his left wing, pinning him to the wall.
“Hold on!” Harruq shouted, stabbing a demon through the eye, spinning, and cutting another down in midair. He tried to protect the angel, but his sword swung too late. The angel fell, his throat cut. Though Harruq killed the attacker, he felt no satisfaction, only growing rage. Ahaesarus kept his sword swinging in wide arcs, steady and skillful. The bodies built up before them, and at last the demons pulled back, half of them dead, and several more injured.
The three spaced out to fill the void and waited.
“Harruq,” said Ahaesarus. “He is almost here. I want you to stay back. Thulos is beyond your skill. Only with Ashhur’s blessing do I stand a chance.”
Harruq snorted. “Not leaving. We fight him together.”
An honor guard of thirty flew before them, just outside of reach. They saluted in reverence, then landed. As they spread out, their wings folding in, Thulos stepped forward from their center. His armor shone in the light, his breastplate splattered with blood. He pulled his greatsword from his back and held it aloft with one hand. He smiled at Ahaesarus, as if all were right with the world.
“You may surrender,” Thulos said. “Though I would be saddened. Otherwise, you may die honorably in battle. Choose, warrior of Ashhur.”
Ahaesarus lifted his sword and made a single slashing motion. Thulos’s smile grew.
“Excellent,” he said.
His lunge was faster than Harruq would have thought possible, had he not seen it before in Veldaren. Before it gutted Ahaesarus where he stood, Harruq slammed both his blades in the way, snarling to ignore the pain in his arms.
“No!” he heard the angel scream. Before Harruq could pull his swords back, Thulos’s fist smashed the side of his head, flinging him back. The other side of his face smacked the wall, and stars exploded across his vision. The sound of combat met his ears, steel ringing against steel at a horrific speed. He tried to clear his thoughts, but all he could think of was getting to Aurelia. At first he crawled on his knees, then found the strength to stand. The temple swam about him, and he swore the ground shook unsteady beneath him.
“Harruq,” he heard his wife cry, and he felt such relief as her hands wrapped about him.
“Hold him steady,” said another, a voice he vaguely recognized. One of the angels…
Light shone across him, soothing and pure. His disorientation faded, and he looked up to see Azariah standing over him. He wasn’t looking back, though, instead staring at the door.
“Even here, the war god cannot be stopped,” said the angel.
“No,” Harruq growled. He clutched his swords tight. “How can you say that?”
“Because Ahaesarus cannot stop him,” Azariah said. “And now Judarius joins his side, and still they cannot.”
Harruq watched from his knees as the two angels battled Thulos. Their attacks wer
e perfectly synchronized, the sword and mace striking high and low, protecting one’s retreat or feinting to open up the other’s attack. It didn’t matter. Thulos’s sword was a blur as he parried and blocked, just a deadly blur until it drew blood. Judarius fell back, a wicked gash in his chest. Ahaesarus leapt before him, blocking the killing blow. Their swords connected, and Thulos pressed the attack, challenging the angels’ strength to stand against him.
“No,” Harruq said again, feeling his rage grow. He stood, the rest of the battle fading away until all he saw was the war god. “Give me your blessing, Azariah. I can stop him.”
“Harruq,” Aurelia said, sounding worried. “Your eyes…”
“Azariah!” he cried, ignoring her.
The priest placed his hands on Harruq’s forehead and whispered a single prayer. The half-orc prayed along, for the words came natural, the desire shared.
“Give him your strength.”
As Thulos cut Ahaesarus down, Harruq charged. Salvation and Condemnation crashed in, their blades shining white, yet leaving an afterimage of red with the swing. Thulos blocked, and this time it was his turn to be surprised.
“Who are you?” Thulos asked.
Harruq chuckled.
The war god pulled back and swung, again putting every bit of his strength behind it. Harruq flung his sister swords into position, and again they met. The sound was thunder in the temple, showering sparks. Harruq did not falter. He pressed back, stepped close, and then swung. Thulos twisted to the side, shooting out an elbow. Harruq spun to avoid it, his blades twirling above his head. When he exited the spin he was already set to block the next attack. Instead of being cut in half, he shoved Thulos’s sword aside and retreated a half step to reset his favorite stance Haern had taught him.
“Ashhur is with you,” Thulos said, sounding winded. “At last, my brother dares make his presence known.”
Harruq could also feel the presence, a soothing strength flowing through his limbs. His concentration narrowed, and it seemed all others moved slowly through time, all but Thulos. Their swords clashed, parried, and clashed again. Every counter met with block, every riposte met with a dodge. Harruq felt himself slipping into a dance, Thulos a well-familiar partner. The sparks grew, the swords shook, and the dance grew vicious. The elder magic in his swords held them together against the onslaught, blades forged by Karak, cursed by Celestia, and now made holy by Ashhur.
On went the dance. Harruq lost all sense of fear. Every movement came natural. He blocked an overhead chop, stepped closer, and then slashed with Salvation. Thulos was already twisting, as if he’d known the maneuver before he ever started it. His sword cut air, and then it was his turn to prepare the block. Thulos’s sword feinted, turned, and clashed against his prepared block. They were twins, brothers, mirrors…but Harruq could feel it slipping. Despite everything, he was mere flesh and bone, and he fought a furious god. It was minor now, he knew, as he weaved his swords in a wicked series. He was yet to score a single cut, but his blocks were coming later and later.
He could not win.
Yet he continued, pouring every bit of his strength into each swing. What more could he do? He fell deeper and deeper into the dance, fighting with a skill he’d never before possessed. His swords were a red line racing through the air, the white shimmer flaring with each strike against Thulos’s sword. His muscles were tiring. His mortal body would soon fail. He clutched his swords tighter, swung faster, but it never mattered. Every move was countered, every thought planned against ahead of time. He was dueling a mirror, and trying to out-react his own reflection.
He thought of all his friends who’d die should he fail. He thought of Ahaesarus and Judarius, bleeding out on the floor beside him. He thought of the child in Aurelia’s womb, his child, waiting to be born. It would find no future, not while the war god reigned supreme. He couldn’t fail. He couldn’t! But he couldn’t win, not locked in this dance. Thulos twisted his sword around, then thrust it straight for Harruq’s chest. He felt his arms go to block.
But this time, he ended the dance. Deep in a battle of such skill, Thulos never expected it, never even thought it possible.
Harruq leapt into the stab, let it pierce his armor and deep into his chest. And in that half-second, with his weapon held still, Harruq’s swords blazed with the might of Ashhur and cut off the war god’s head.
“Harruq!” he heard someone shout. His wife, he realized. Blood poured down his chest. He tried to breathe, but his lungs refused to cooperate. He was falling to his knees, and he could not stop. The temple turned to a blur, and those shouting grew distant. He closed his eyes, not wanting to feel the pain anymore. A voice calling his name forced them open. That sound…it was familiar, so familiar.
The land was green, the sky gold. Aullienna was rushing toward him, her hair flowing behind her in long braids.
“Daddy!” she cried, flinging her arms around him. He held her as his tears fell.
“You’re taller,” he whispered, so confused, so happy.
She pulled back and kissed his nose. She looked beautiful, her smile the most precious thing in the world.
“I’ll be waiting,” she said, hugging him once more. The golden light faded. Her arms left him. He felt himself falling again, and as he cried he felt his pain return.
He was on his back. People stood above him.
“A gift,” Azariah said, his glowing hands still pressed against his chest, healing the wound.
“Oh, Harruq!” Aurelia said, kneeling beside him. She looked ready to scold him, then flung herself into his arms. As her tears wet his neck, he clutched her with desperate strength.
“I saw her,” he whispered. “Aurry, I saw her…”
The angels at the doors gave way as Qurrah entered, Tessanna at his side. As two angels helped him stand, Azariah approached the other half-orc, a stern look across his face. The silence was thick in the temple, for the demons had fled with the death of their leader.
“Such a form is a blasphemy,” he said, the words causing Tessanna to clutch his hand tight. “But Ashhur goes now to slumber with Celestia, and I have one last gift for you as well, brother of Harruq Tun.”
Qurrah closed his eyes and bowed, accepting whatever fate he might deserve. Azariah’s hands shone brilliant, and that light passed into Qurrah’s skin. It swarmed over him, peeling away the rot, banishing the death in his flesh. It fell off like scales, revealing healthy, living skin beneath. As the last of the light vanished, Tessanna touched his face with a trembling hand.
“You’re…you’re…you,” she said, then flung her arms around him. Qurrah looked at a loss for words. Taking a careful step, and wincing against the pain, Harruq reached for his brother.
“Do I have you back again?” he asked.
“Apparently, yes,” Qurrah said, accepting his embrace.
“Look,” said Aurelia, gesturing out the door. “Dieredon’s come!”
Elves rode through the city atop winged horses, flitting through the scattered demon army and shooting them down with their bows.
“He’s late,” Harruq said, laughing despite his pain. He hugged his brother once more, holding him as the last of the demons fled Avlimar, their war god defeated, their army broken.
Epilogue
Aurelia and Harruq watched the last armies of Ker march south, back toward their homes.
“Shame how much he mistrusts Antonil,” Aurelia said.
“They’ll get over it,” Harruq said, holding her hand. They stood outside the walls of the city, waiting. The rest of the Eschaton waited with them, thick packs in hand.
“We’ll march with them for a while,” Lathaar said, embracing Harruq and Aurelia. “But it is time we returned to the Citadel’s rubble and see to rebuilding it anew.”
“Not going to be cheap,” Jerico said, shooting Tarlak a wink.
“We’ll see about money once Antonil pays me back,” the wizard said, smacking both across the shoulder. “Stay safe now. I’ll make sure to
visit, especially once you get a class full of snot-nosed brats to try and brainwash.”
Together the paladins trudged south, their armor shining in the light. They weren’t gone long before Dieredon landed, Sonowin’s wings blasting them with wind.
“About time,” Tarlak said, joining Dieredon atop her back. “I thought you’d left without me.”
“The Ekreissar will find it odd I ride with a human,” said the elf.
“Then they’ll really find it odd when we share the same bedroll.”
Dieredon gave him a mixed look of humor and horror. Aurelia curtseyed to them both while Harruq waved.
“Don’t be gone too long,” Harruq said.
“I just want to see what shape Veldaren’s in,” Tarlak said. “And I’ll be back. Someone’s got to raise your new baby properly, and I doubt it’ll be the big lug. Keep Antonil in line while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my best,” Harruq said, laughing.
With a great flap of wings they soared into the air. Harruq and Aurelia held hands and watched until they were just a speck of white across the blue sky, one of many as the elves flew toward their homeland.
Not long after, Qurrah approached from the city exit, Tessanna with him, clutching his arm.
“Are you sure you have to go as well?” Harruq asked. “I swear, no one seems content to just sit back and relax.”
“We need a chance to start anew,” Qurrah said. “In Ker, we might be free to find a place of our own. We’ve hurt too many here, and in Neldar as well. But none begrudge my name there, and Bram has promised me a small parcel of land of my own.”
“If you must,” Harruq said, giving him a hug. “But make sure you visit.”
Qurrah shifted his pack across his shoulders and stepped to leave, but Tessanna lingered. She lowered her head and looked bashfully at Aurelia.
“I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me,” she said. “But…but you know I loved Aullienna. I always will. Please, when your new baby is born…may I visit her? I promise to be good.”
The Half-Orcs: Books 1-5 Page 162
