Susan fell silent, and she respectfully dipped her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I will not undermine my husband in such a way, nor make him seem a fool. Question my brother, but do not harm him unless you have proof. Will you at least grant me that request?”
“Fair enough.”
She stared at him, and he wished he had enough skill at reading people to understand the thoughts racing behind that stare. At last she curtseyed and hurried out of the room, leaving Harruq alone but for a few of his most trusted guards, who lurked behind various pillars and curtains. Kevin was one man, and so long as Harruq held his swords, he wasn’t afraid. The others had wanted to be there with him, but Harruq had rightly guessed Susan’s response to that. Already they treaded on thin ice. It’d do no good to toss in more weight.
Minutes passed at an interminable pace. When the doors finally cracked open, and Kevin Maryll stepped inside, Harruq almost felt happy. Almost. The desire to draw one of his swords was still the stronger impulse.
“Harruq!” Kevin shouted, hurrying down the carpeted hall. “Where’s Susan? Where’s Gregory? Are they all right?”
“They’re fine,” Harruq said, shifting in his seat. The handle of Condemnation was cold in his palm. It took every shred of his self-control to keep the blade sheathed.
“They are?” His relief appeared genuine. Harruq kept telling himself it was an act to keep his rage high. “The guards would only tell me there was an attempt on her life. They wouldn’t say anything else. Did you capture the men responsible?”
“I don’t know,” Harruq said. He shifted again. Kevin was so close, now. Just a few steps and a thrust and he’d be dead. Not that he was imagining doing that repeatedly, of course. “I was thinking bringing you here was a first step to that.”
Kevin froze in his tracks.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Those assassins were hired by someone wealthy, someone with many connections. Someone who might want King Antonil’s son dead. And perhaps it’s just me, but haven’t you been out firing up crowds and spreading hatred against Antonil? Or should I say, the Missing King?”
Aurelia would have told him it was tactless, but Harruq was too amused by the shock in Kevin’s eyes at such a blunt accusation to care.
“You bastard,” Kevin said, his voice rising. “This is my sister you’re talking about, my nephew! You think I’d want them dead because of my frustrations with Antonil and his angels?”
“The thought occurred to me,” Harruq said. He stood, wanting to intimidate Kevin with his height and size. Kevin, however, seemed far from intimidated. He looked furious.
“When Antonil reclaimed Mordeina, his rule was tenuous at best. Many lords wanted to break up the nation, with the angels as the sole unifier among the various territories instead of a king. I’m the one who prevented that. Regardless of all he accomplished, Antonil was just a lowly soldier, without a hint of noble blood in him. Susan gave him that. She gave him legitimacy, she gave him a son. She became the queen he needed so others would view him as king. And all the while I whispered in the ears of other lords, telling them we needed a king, we needed a ruler.”
Harruq shifted uncomfortably, feeling a bit of his righteous fury dwindling down, becoming more petulant and uncertain. Still, he had to continue. He had to know for certain.
“You act as if you gained nothing,” he said. “Your sister’s rise in power only increased your own. And because of that, you’re now safe to rally men around you, spouting out hate and ignorance.”
Kevin’s eyes widened.
“Do you know why I rally those people in the streets?” he asked Harruq. “I do it to protect Susan and her son. My blood will become the blood of kings. My sister a queen, my nephew the first of Mordan’s new generation of rulers. But every single bit of that is in danger so long as priests and angels lord over us, bringing us their rules, handing out their law with impunity.”
Kevin spat at Harruq’s feet.
“You think you know me, you think you understand why I do these things. You’re a damn fool, half-orc. Look to the heavens, and for once, open your eyes. In my heart I do not believe my nephew will ever be king. How long until a man with wings sits on that throne? And what will we do then? What will we lowly, simple humans do?”
Harruq was caught off guard by his sincerity, his ferocity. Was it possible he was uninvolved? Looking back at it, it did seem a slight stretch. If Kevin had problems with Antonil and the angels, wouldn’t it make more sense that he strike at them instead? Despite all his annoyances, he’d never shown any hostility toward his sister.
Thinking of the angels reminded him of similar matters he’d been delaying bringing up, but with Susan absent, there was really no better time.
“You have to stop these rallies,” Harruq said. “The city’s already in unrest because of the army’s departure, and you’re just making it worse.”
“Oftentimes things must get worse before getting better,” Kevin argued.
“Riots will begin any day now,” Harruq said. “People will die. This needs to stop.”
“Then stop it!” Kevin gestured wildly. “I only give voice and reason to their unrest. I only allow them to see the reason for their anger. Do you think Mordeina is the only place turning against this oppression? The countryside is worse, so much worse, and yet I’m not there to stir it up. For five years now the angels have dealt death and spared lives, all without a single care for the desires of mortal men.”
“Then what do you want me to do about it?” Harruq asked. “How in the fires of the Abyss am I supposed to stop it?”
Kevin calmed down a bit, becoming more earnest, more businesslike.
“At the start of the month I sent riders to all four corners of Mordan,” he said. “Every single settlement has already received my request. I’m calling in elders, spokesmen, anyone who can come and speak for the people of their respective towns. It shouldn’t be long before the first of them arrives.”
“Why? What do you think this will accomplish?”
“We live under the rule of angels who supposedly follow a god,” Kevin said. “A god that none of us can hear, a god whose own priests say now slumbers after the war. Yet we are powerless before their rule. Some men live, and others die, and there is no consistency, no justice. Murderers and rapists should be strung up to hang, yet many find themselves forgiven, only to repeat their crimes months later. We need a voice. We need a say in these things. I’m summoning them all to hold a council. I want the angels to hear the concerns of those they rule over. I want them to admit they aren’t gods, to open their eyes and realize that we do not serve them. They serve us.”
There was some wisdom to the idea, Harruq had to admit that. And over the past several days he’d been hearing of the growing unrest, especially over a supposed attack in a village that no one could identify for certain despite his best efforts. If this council might prevent riots, it’d be worthwhile. And the representatives were already on their way…
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“Make the angels attend. Make them promise to listen, and convene a vote on the requests our people give. And if not…” Kevin gestured to the throne. “You are steward of the kingdom, ruler over the men therein. If the angels will not answer to you, then what is the purpose of having a king?”
“I’ll talk to Ahaesarus,” Harruq said. “I can’t promise their cooperation, but if this will help, then I’m willing to try. But in return, you need to calm the people instead of inflaming them. You’re getting what you want, so give me what I want, or I’ll send troops to arrest you in the street no matter what Susan thinks.”
“Your eloquence knows no bounds,” Kevin said, bowing. “Tell the angels to convene the council a week from tomorrow. That should be enough time for everyone to arrive. Now if I might have my leave, I’d like to check on my family.”
The lord turned and marched to the side of the throne, into the darker rece
sses of the pillars.
“Oh, Kevin,” Harruq said, unable to help himself. “There is one way to prove to me your innocence. Stand before an angel. Swear to him you had nothing to do with the assassination attempt, and let him judge whether you speak truth or lie.”
Kevin looked over his shoulder as he stopped before the door leading deeper into the castle. Instead of the anger he expected, the man only laughed.
“You’re such a fool,” he said. “A damn, stupid fool in so far over your head you haven’t a hope to avoid drowning. The angels aren’t your savior, Harruq. They’re your executioner. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
The door slammed shut behind him, and Harruq had only impotent rage to offer in return.
Qurrah was not much for putting off uncomfortable things, so when they’d been assigned their room in the castle, and Tessanna slumbered restlessly from their journey, he left her there and sought out Harruq’s room. To his mild surprise, two guards stood before the door, and they tensed at his arrival.
“I only wish to ask my brother a question,” he told them.
One of the guards rapped on the door. After hearing it unlock from within, the door popped open, and Harruq’s face peered out. Seeing Qurrah, he grunted and opened it the rest of the way, revealing him standing there with only a loose bed robe wrapped around his muscular body.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” Qurrah said. He glanced at the guards, then decided there was nothing too unusual about his request. He’d still be honoring Azariah’s desire for privacy.
“How does one get to Avlimar?” he asked.
Harruq raised an eyebrow.
“With wings. Care to explain?”
“I’d rather not.”
Harruq shrugged.
“Wait here.”
He shut the door, returning less than a minute later. In his hands was a golden scepter. Its length was about half his arm, and at the very top was a silver stone barely larger than a man’s pinkie.
“Get into open space, hold it aloft, and then speak the name Ashhur,” Harruq explained as he handed it over. “Someone will come find you, I promise. After that, it’s up to you to convince them to give you a lift.”
“I’ll return this before the night’s over,” Qurrah promised, holding the scepter against his chest. It was surprisingly warm, and he detected an aura of magic about it. Harruq yawned, waved him away.
“Return it in the morning,” he said, shutting the door.
Qurrah chuckled, caught the guards looking at him. He shot one a wink, then hurried away. After two tries, he managed to find his way out of the castle, stepping out into the courtyard surrounding the structure atop the great hill it’d been built upon. The night sky was heavily clouded. Only Avlimar was visible, just a distant gold star. In that darkness, Qurrah held the scepter above his head, noting it much heavier than it should have been. Steadying it with both hands, he whispered the command word.
“Ashhur.”
He squinted his eyes, expecting some sort of bright flash or signal. Instead, the silver stone began to glow softly, its golden light soothing to look upon. It pulsed once, twice, and then into the sky shone a great pillar, piercing the clouds so that its light pushed on through the slowly forming gap. Qurrah’s mouth dropped open, impressed. Its color was like that of Lathaar’s sword, or Jerico’s shield, a strong blue-white, vibrant with energy. In the center of the beam, soft smoke curled and rose, vanishing the moment it left the beam. The light spread nowhere beyond the beam, not even brightening his hands as they held the scepter. Given its distinct brightness and color, he had no doubt it could be seen for miles and miles even during the day.
In less than a minute he heard the sound of flapping wings. An angel landed before him, one of their warriors, his body clad in armor and a spear strapped to his back.
“I am Loen, and I bring to you the blessings of Ashhur,” the angel said. “I saw the signal in the sky and have come. What matter requires my aid?”
“My name is Qurrah Tun,” he said, bowing his head in respect. “I seek permission to travel to Avlimar and speak with Azariah.”
A look of curiosity passed over Loen’s face and quickly vanished.
“I remember you,” Loen said. “You were of much interest after the trial to decide your fate. You look healthier, now. More alive.”
Qurrah felt mildly embarrassed thinking of the trial, when he’d been ready to accept death at the angels’ hands. Only Harruq had stopped them by demanding whatever fate be given to Qurrah also be given to him. The idea of killing his brother while trying to atone for his own sins…Qurrah couldn’t do it. His brother’s selflessness had been the only reason he’d lived, and that’s what shamed him. At the time, Tessanna had been alone with that monster Velixar and Thulos’s legion of demons. Qurrah had been willing to give up even her, had twice tried to make his brother end his life so he might not feel guilt or anguish.
Such weakness. Such childishness.
“I’m a better man now than I was,” he told Loen. “Perhaps that is all you see?”
“Perhaps. Azariah is in his study. If you do not mind waiting outside it, I will see if he accepts your company.”
“Thank you,” Qurrah said, bowing his head again. “How will I arrive?”
The angel took the scepter from Qurrah and then tucked it into the same loops that held his spear.
“Do not fear falling,” he said. “But if you are afraid, I suggest closing your eyes and not looking down.”
Qurrah smirked as the angel flapped his wings several times, lifting them into the air. He’d stepped into the chaos that was Tessanna’s mind and seen the nightmares of her past; heights weren’t going to frighten him. Wrapped in the angel’s arms, he felt plenty secure. The wind whipped against his face, and he had to squint his eyes to see. The city of Mordeina shrank below him, and high above, the shining star that was Avlimar grew closer and closer.
The strangest sight was the floating rock beneath it all, as if the pull of the world meant nothing on the parcel of land broken and hurled free from the Golden Eternity. It looked brown and compacted, like any other earth, but it supported the great weight of the structure built atop it. Every precious metal was crafted into spires, towers, slender homes and broad bridges. Some buildings were gold, others silver. To his surprise, there were many gardens, their vibrant colors easy to see despite the night. Avlimar was always lit, no darkness allowed within. Copious amounts of torches lined the buildings, and it seemed the very gold of the streets hummed with ethereal brightness. In that light, the green of trees somehow complemented the extravagant colors, adding life and color to the otherwise overwhelming metal beauty.
There were many flat segments of street at the edge of the floating city, and they landed on one of them. Qurrah staggered momentarily when released from Loen’s grip, then quickly steadied himself. There was something unusual about standing there, almost like being upon a boat despite no discernible rocking or motion.
“Have you been to Avlimar before?” Loen asked him.
Qurrah remembered arriving as an undead monstrosity, pulled along by Velixar’s commands as war demons surged through the windows and towers, battling angels by the thousands.
“Only once,” Qurrah said.
“Follow me, then,” Loen said. He walked down the street, which slowly narrowed the farther from the edge they traveled. Qurrah marveled at the architecture. It seemed everything was ornamented to an absurd extent. Walls were decorated with intricate carvings, paintings, even sculptures cut into their sides. Pausing at one, he looked at a bewildering collection of overlapped concentric circles, making it seem like the doorway of the home were the center of a great vortex of lines and motion. It had to have taken hundreds of hours to carve, Qurrah thought. Of course, in a land of no ruin and death, time for even the most trivial things could be afforded…
“This way,” Loen said, breaking his line of thought. “Azariah rarely stay
s in Avlimar for long, and I would be remiss if tardiness kept you from meeting him.”
“Of course,” Qurrah said as his fingers traced along the lines. “Perhaps another time I can explore.”
It was to the very tallest of towers that Loen took him, located not far from the center of the city. Along the way, Qurrah was surprised by how few angels he spotted. The creatures did not sleep like regular mortals, so he saw no reason for the silence, yet it was there all the same.
“Why is the city so empty?” he asked as they approached the great spire, which rose like a sharp-peaked mountain, except instead of snowy peaks it was decorated with marble and pearl.
“The harvest is great, the workers few,” Loen said. “We are scattered throughout the land, and with our aid, many new towns have sprouted in the far north. But soon Avlimar will be filled with angels to vote in the coming council.”
“Council?” Qurrah asked.
“Did your brother tell you nothing of it?”
“No, he did not.”
“A meeting with human elders,” Loen said, pulling open the golden doors to Azariah’s spire. “To hear their concerns, and allow them to open their hearts to us so we might learn how to better serve them.”
Interesting, thought Qurrah. Was that a result of his meeting with Kevin? Seemed a bit opposite of the intended result, that being Kevin hanging from a gibbet.
“Wait here,” Loen said.
The angel stepped through the door, which was oversized to accommodate his wings. All of the doors and walkways were large like that, making Qurrah, who had grown up thin and sickly, feel all the smaller. Staring up at the spire, Qurrah admired the craftsmanship it took to build it. For some reason, it had a newness to it the rest of the city did not. Perhaps it was the height, or maybe because it was the lone building he’d seen so far that possessed a pointed rooftop instead of a flat one.
“Qurrah?”
Azariah stepped out of the door, followed by Loen.
The Prison of Angels h-6 Page 15
