“Because they are under no obligation to do so,” Dieredon said. He glanced over his shoulder and acknowledged Jessilynn with a nod. “They have been chased across both sides of the rivers by human armies. They have watched the second Gods’ War tear apart the entire eastern half of Dezrel and leave behind an abyssal hole filled with their cursed orcish brethren.”
“They, always they,” Ahaesarus said. “Do you not count yourself among their number?”
Dieredon shook his head, his smile a mixture of sadness and amusement.
“I speak what the majority of my people will believe,” he said. “Know that my own thoughts are decidedly different.”
Ahaesarus realized Jessilynn was there, standing awkwardly in the door, and he gestured for her to come closer.
“Welcome, Jessilynn,” the angel said. His frustration melted away into a charming smile. “Your opinion would be most welcome in our discussion.” He nodded to Dieredon. “For now, the elf is explaining to me why his Dezren elves won’t join us in striking down Azariah’s blasphemous rule.”
“Tell me, since when have elves cared for the blasphemy of Karak or Ashhur?” Dieredon asked. “Has Azariah declared himself their ruler? Has he proclaimed elves obligated to follow the teachings of Ashhur? What threat does he possess to them, their lives, their customs, or their Goddess?”
Each question erased an increasingly larger portion of Ahaesarus’s smile.
“The Dezren would be so selfish they will ignore the suffering of others so long as they themselves go unaffected?” he asked.
“Consider it a trait we’ve learned well from humans,” Dieredon said, a bite edging into his words. “I dare say the human kingdoms have perfected the art.”
Ahaesarus raised his hands in surrender. “Forgive me. My frustration leads too often to anger. If not the elves, then what allies are left to us?”
“You have the creatures of the vile,” Jessilynn said. “Are they not enough?”
In answer, the angel gestured to the wood-carved map that lay atop the table between them.
“Azariah’s numbers are twice ours, and he commands what is left of Mordeina’s forces. Perhaps it is enough, but we must find out what is happening to Ker’s invasion force. I pray they are a worthy ally, or at worst a useful distraction for us as we prepare our own army. As for the vile, their purpose will be soon revealed. With their deaths they will cleanse the sins of their lives, a valuable tool for retaking my city.”
Jessilynn felt uncomfortable listening to the divine being discuss the lives of others so flippantly. Such talk was certainly common among lords and kings, but she expected…better from the angel. A demeanor different from all who came before. The thought of Ahaesarus becoming like mortal men terrified her.
“You promised the creatures a land of their own,” Dieredon said. He kept his tone guarded, but Jessilynn could tell he also sensed the change in the angel.
“You would accuse me of lying?” Ahaesarus asked. His wings fluttered as if he were trying to remain calm. “My word is true, always and forever. These creatures gave their lives to tear down these walls and rip the life away from those cowering in fear within. If they would die for such a pale blessing, then let them face those same risks for a goal worthy of blood and sacrifice. The survivors shall have their land, as well as our guidance. Perhaps in time they will not be known as the vile, but as friend.”
He pulled the enormous greatsword off his back and laid it over the map with a heavy thud. It was the weapon of the deceased paladin, Darius, former servant of Karak who turned to Ashhur near the end of his life. His visage had appeared to Jessilynn when her situation was most dire, and she stared at the weapon with fondness.
“I have seen what may be accomplished when the greatest among you gives everything for the lives of others,” he said. “From the bravest and strongest to the vilest creatures of a forgotten war, all will be held to such high standards. Anything less will see victory slip from our fingers.”
Jessilynn felt much of her nerves ease. Now this was the being Jerico and Lathaar had told stories about while they sat around the late-night campfires in the shadow of the rebuilt Citadel. Life had returned to those brilliant green eyes, his posture straightened, his entire demeanor commanded respect and authority. Perhaps the angels had fallen victim to politics and infighting, perhaps they had arrived far too late to save hundreds from the jaws of the vile, but that was in the past. War had come, and Ahaesarus was ready to lead.
“I’m sorry if it seemed we doubted you,” Jessilynn said when it was clear Dieredon would offer no such concession. “You’ve done so much for us already. You deserve better than that.”
“Indeed,” the elf said, his tone the exact opposite of agreement. “So that settles it, then. We make way for the Castle of Caves. Spread word to your angels. I’ll leave it to you to decide how best to organize and order about these…creatures you call an army.”
Dieredon spun and exited the room without offering the slightest bow of respect. Jessilynn almost followed, but she’d sought out the angel for a reason.
“Ahaesarus,” she said, her hands crossing behind her. She struggled for the correct words. “There’s something I want to talk to you about…”
About what, though? About the vanishing of the god-blessed arrows that had helped her defend so many? Should she confess her lack of faith in Ashhur’s protection after witnessing the absolute slaughter the night before? Or should she reveal her insidious, wiggling doubt that her desire to regain Ashhur’s blessing was only a desire for her powerful arrows to return, and nothing to do with worry for her own soul?
Ahaesarus drummed his fingers across the hilt of Darius’s greatsword, his eyes lost on the intricate details carved into the map.
“About what?” he asked without looking up.
A million things to ask, and zero words to properly convey the questions. Jessilynn shook her head and dropped her eyes to the floor.
“Never mind,” she said. “It can wait. There’s too much to do before nightfall.”
Jessilynn left, and was hardly surprised to find Dieredon waiting for her outside the castle doors.
“You expect too much from these angels,” he said. “Their own god has abandoned them, and for good reason. They are not infallible. Our role is to question their decisions and demand better, not to make them feel good about themselves.”
Jessilynn had not the heart to argue. She brushed past him but halted when he latched onto her wrist.
“I have no desire to lecture you on matters of faith,” he said. “But before the siege ever started, I warned you that this was a hopeless endeavor. You prayed for a miracle, and one did not arrive. Now is not the time to lay blame on others. My wisdom said all would die. Your faith said beyond all odds, we’d succeed. Consider this a lesson for the next time we find ourselves in a similar predicament.”
His words stung deep. Tears blossomed in her eyes, and she was too exhausted to fight them off. Before the battle she’d insisted they stay, and Dieredon had called her a light in a very dark world. Why betray those comments now?
“You said you were honored to stay at my side and fight,” she said, yanking her hand free. “I guess your sense of honor does not last beyond a single night.”
Jessilynn stormed away before he could reply, glad to put her back to the elf. Must they argue, blame, and debate while the stench of the dead filled her nose and soured her tongue? Couldn’t they just let her grieve, if only for a moment? The thoughts were emotional and tired and selfish, but she didn’t care. She’d sworn her life to Ashhur, and since leaving the Citadel with Dieredon, she’d had her face scarred, her faith mocked, her body bruised and broken, and been forced to witness the deaths of hundreds. Couldn’t she be human for a few hours?
With nowhere else to go, Jessilynn hurried through the ranks of the vile creatures toward her sleeping spot atop the wall. Angels flew overhead and landed among the scattered grou
ps of beast-men, no doubt relaying orders from Ahaesarus. Most groups Jessilynn passed looked finished with the burials, except for one.
She stopped at where the bird-men had mocked her and threatened to eat the dead. Their stack of corpses to bury remained at seven. Two open graves showed bloodied bodies covered with only a small smattering of dirt. As for the bird-men themselves, she saw no sign of them. Jessilynn pulled her bow off her shoulder, telling herself not to worry. The vile creatures were disdainful of all authority. It didn’t mean anything.
She waved at one of the angels flying overhead until she gained his attention.
“Yes?” the dark-haired angel asked as he floated down to a hover just above her head. “Is something the matter?”
“The group that was here,” she said, pointing to the corpses. “Have they been ordered to move elsewhere?”
The angel frowned.
“I don’t believe so, certainly not with their punishment yet to be completed.”
“Search the rest of the castle grounds,” she said. “I’m sure they’ve only joined up with one of the other groups.”
Jessilynn knew it wasn’t so even as she suggested it. The angel’s wings pounded the air, vaulting him upward. She watched him scan for several minutes, his circling growing more and more erratic as time passed. Jessilynn climbed the stairs to the wall when it was clear he’d find nothing. The sun was setting, its orange haze on the horizon painful to the eye. She squinted, thinking she saw a distant speck descending a hill that might have been the cluster of bird-men, but her eyes were not those of an elf, and she could not be certain. Of course, there was someone who did possess keen elven eyesight…
Dieredon was with Sonowin at the castle stables when she found him. The elf had a brush in hand, and he methodically massaged the winged horse’s side so that he never missed a single inch. Jessilynn knew the activity calmed him, and she felt a spiteful bit of pleasure in the thought that Dieredon was just as upset about their argument as she was. She felt a brush of air against her back, and a second later, Ahaesarus landed behind her.
“I see I have become popular,” Dieredon said, patting Sonowin’s side. “Is something the matter?”
“About forty of the bird-men have fled the grounds.” Ahaesarus glanced at Jessilynn. “I’d like you to track them before they escape.”
“Escape?” Dieredon asked. “I thought they were your soldiers, yet now it seems they are your prisoners.”
“They bent their knee and accepted me as their king,” Ahaesarus said. “They have sworn their lives in return for a home, and I will not have them betraying their promise. Will you aid us or not?”
The elf sighed. “I do this, but not for you. Those forty pose a danger to the innocents you’re sworn to protect. Better them under your thumb than running loose in human lands.” He whispered something into Sonowin’s snow-white ear, eliciting a loud snort from the horse. “I know. I’m not a fan of them, either.”
Sonowin trotted out of the stable. Dieredon hopped onto the horse’s bare back and gestured for Jessilynn to join him. She vaulted up behind him, wrapping her arms around Dieredon’s waist.
“How would you like for me to signal you?” Dieredon asked.
“You will have no need of signaling,” Ahaesarus said. “I will be flying alongside you, as will my faithful.”
Dieredon shrugged. “So be it.”
He patted Sonowin twice on the neck. Her wings spread wide, their span tremendous to behold. The horse sprinted forward, two beats of her wings lifting them skyward. Jessilynn watched the castle recede behind her, clusters of wolf- and hyena- and bird-men lit orange across their fur and feathers by the setting sun. A large part of her wished she might never see it again.
Dieredon guided Sonowin low, his eyes scanning the ground along the outer edge of the castle walls. They looped for another pass, and this time he spotted something among the blood and debris that she could not. Sonowin’s path curled southwest, then straightened out. Ahaesarus followed several hundred feet behind, at the head of a group of seven angels. Sonowin guided them over rolling hills and thin, scattered forests. Jessilynn had learned much about tracking from the elf, but they zipped over the grass far too quickly for her to make sense of anything. Dieredon obviously could, however, for within minutes they crested another hill to find the bird-men racing ahead. They saw Sonowin and immediately bunched together in preparation for arrows that did not come.
Dieredon slowed to a hover, letting Ahaesarus catch up.
“Land with me,” the angel said. “I would speak with them.”
“As you wish,” Dieredon said. “They’re your prisoners.”
The barb did not go unnoticed. Ahaesarus folded his wings and dropped. Dieredon led Sonowin on a more gentle, roundabout dive. As the roar of the wind softened, he leaned back toward Jessilynn.
“Ready your bow. I do not know what Ahaesarus plans, but I doubt he will easily convince these creatures to return.”
Dieredon leapt off Sonowin’s back before the horse’s hooves touched grass, landing lightly on his feet with his bow drawn and an arrow nocked. Jessilynn lacked such grace, and she waited for Sonowin to halt before she slid off the winged horse’s back and touched ground. She drew her own bow, and together she and Dieredon flanked Ahaesarus, who towered before the group of bird-men. There was no confusing the vicious, angry cries emanating from deep within their throats.
“Like thieves in the night you flee my command,” the angel said, silencing them all with the sheer volume of his booming voice. A shiver ran through Jessilynn when she imagined such anger directed her way. “Have you forgotten your vow? For I have not forgotten your many sins.”
“Death or servitude,” the leader among them shouted, Jessilynn recognizing the black-feathered bird-man with even blacker eyes. “That is no vow. That is prison.”
“You would speak to me of death?” the angel asked. He hoisted Darius’s blade off his back and held it above his head. “Manfeaster wielded this blade as he led your attack that slaughtered hundreds. Death is what you deserve, you vile creatures, but Ashhur desires even the most wretched to elevate themselves above their sins. You deserve death, yet I offer you a land for your own. Is that truly such a prison?”
Jessilynn thought the offer better than the bird-men deserved, but apparently they did not share that belief.
“Your land is a lie,” black-feather said.
“I do not lie.”
“You need not lie!” He squawked three times in succession, a painfully high-pitched cry to show his disgust. His clawed fingers pointed at the six other angels remaining in the air with weapons drawn. “We will never have that land. We will be dead. We will fight, and die, long before all your pretty white wings are stained with blood. Better we return to the home we fled than die for nothing.”
It was a powerful accusation, and not without merit. Jessilynn had shared similar thoughts with Ahaesarus earlier that day. But where Ahaesarus had convinced her with his sincerity, the angel used a far different tactic with the bird-men.
“There will be no returning home,” he roared. “The vile wedge is gone to you. Your vows are made, and I do not release you from them. The first Gods’ War created you, and now that we walk in the shadow of the Third, you will fulfill your purpose. Fight for your new land, or die here on a nameless hill.”
“Then you make us choose between death and death,” black-feather shrieked. “If we must choose, we choose the one with honor. The one where we fight for ourselves.”
Ahaesarus’s voice dropped to a sudden, dangerous growl.
“I offer you your only chance for honor. Kneel, now, or reject it.”
Jessilynn prayed for peace. She prayed for at least a pause in the bloodshed.
“Death over slavery,” the bird-man shrieked, and the rest took up that cry.
Ahaesarus gave no order. He never said a word. One beat of his wings, and he tore into the center of their g
roup. Darius’s sword slashed through their numbers, hacking off limbs and rending flesh. The other angels dove in unison, their spears and swords tearing into their foes in an explosion of feathers. Dieredon and Jessilynn each drew an arrow, but there was no reason to fire. The slaughter was finished in an instant. The meager creatures never bore a chance.
The six other angels flew away when the killing was complete. Ahaesarus turned to face Jessilynn and Dieredon while cleaning blood off his blade. Jessilynn stared at him, shivers running through her to see Darius’s sword wielded so casually. Her arrow remained nocked, the string pulled taut.
“It is a cruel world we walk upon,” Ahaesarus said as he sheathed the sword upon his back. “But we do as we must.”
“This will continue,” Dieredon argued. “Angel, I ask that you reconsider your idea in using these creatures in your war. They have a strong sense of honor and loyalty, but it will never be to you. Send them back across the Rigon River, or kill them on the field of battle they created. They feasted on the slain. Do not dishonor their victims by pretending they might somehow redeem such a vile act through forced servitude in your holy war.”
“And do you agree?” Ahaesarus asked, turning to Jessilynn. She could read nothing in the angel’s tired green eyes, and she hated having to give an answer. She remembered her time imprisoned by Manfeaster and Moonslayer. They were terrifying beasts, but they also lived a desolate existence. The sons of Redclaw had united the various creatures with a promise of a better life. Could she truly blame them for that desire?
“I don’t know,” she said, and slowly released the tension of her bow. “Everything I think I know seems wrong.”
Ahaesarus nodded but said nothing. He spread his wings wide and took to the air, leaving the forty dead bird-men behind to rot on the hillside. Jessilynn closed her eyes and fought back a wave of exhaustion and sorrow. Any desire to speak with the angel about her lack of faith died.
The King of the Fallen Page 6
