The King of the Fallen

by David Dalglish

  “Well...we’re important enough to be playthings of gods. That means something, right?”

  Tarlak returned the pendant to its rightful place underneath his robe and over his heart.

  “I try to be serious, and you respond by being glib.”

  Harruq elbowed him in the side. “I was being serious. We do matter to them. How else can you interpret Dezrel’s history? The question is, why do we matter to them? Do they love us? Hate us? Wish for us to do better? Or are we mere pieces in a game they’re pushing around a board, eager to see which of the brother gods can pull off a win?”

  They both fell silent as they overlooked the broken hills marked by jagged tips of golden spires.

  “I don’t think we’re pieces anymore,” Tarlak said. “Nor part of a game. Do you know what I see before me? Celestia has flipped the table. The board is upside down. The pieces are scattered and gone, those that survived being crushed underneath said table.”

  “Which means...?”

  The wizard laughed. “You need ask a scholar of religious studies. Maybe find a priest or three. As for myself? It gives me hope. If Ashhur is willing to focus on us becoming our better selves, and less on defeating Karak, then maybe Dezrel will see a few years of peace.”

  A shadow passed overhead, and they looked up to see a familiar winged horse slowly curling down from the clouds to join them. Tarlak lifted his hat in greeting. Sonowin landed, stamped her hoof twice, and then lowered her neck so Jessilynn could dismount.

  “Come to admire your handiwork, Arrow of Ashhur?” Harruq asked with a shit-eating grin. ‘Arrow of Ashhur’ was the title clumsily given to her by some of the first people who heard of her involvement in the destruction of Devlimar, as well as in reference to the initial, leading arrow that had soared across the night sky to mark the start of the ensuing heavenly barrage.

  “Please don’t refer to me as such,” she responded. A bit of red crept up her neck to her cheeks and she looked aside. “It makes me deeply uncomfortable hearing people give me credit for something so far beyond my power. This was hardly my doing. I was merely the catalyst.”

  “You’re talking to the Godslayer,” said Harruq. “And the reason the angels arrived on Dezrel in the first place. I’m one of very few people alive who knows what you’re going through.”

  Tarlak smacked the half-orc in the chest. “Relying on this big idiot for sympathy? You poor girl. But duly noted, paladin. We’ll spare you further compliments, and instead I’ll ask why you’re out here with us.”

  Strangely enough, the red in her cheeks refused to go away.

  “I plan to fly with Sonowin back to the Dezren elves and inform them of Dieredon’s...passing,” she said. “I was hoping to say goodbye to Jerico before I left, but I cannot find him. I thought perhaps he was out here with you.”

  Tarlak flinched despite efforts to the contrary. He’d long considered Dieredon a friend, and hearing of his death during the battle had added yet another stone of sorrow onto the mountain already lodged atop his back. No funeral would be held for him in Mordeina. Harruq, acting as little King Gregory’s steward, had ordered the body wrapped and preserved in preparation for travel to the Quellan elves. Scoutmaster Dieredon was a hero of Dezrel, and he deserved to be honored by his people. Tarlak wondered if he might be allowed to attend the ceremony, or if the elves would deny him a presence.

  He shook his head, forcing away the depressing thoughts. He’d have more time to dwell on politics later, as well as mourn in private the loss of a friend.

  “I can open you a portal to him, if you’d like,” Tarlak said instead.

  Jessilynn thought a moment, then shook her head.

  “I think we both need some time alone to dwell on everything Ashhur has said and done. We will speak when I return. When you do see him, tell him...” She paused a moment, her eyes far away. “Tell him we need no Citadel to have a place in this world, and when I return, I hope together we may find it.”

  “Of course,” Harruq said. His demeanor turned somber enough to ensure Jessilynn knew he was serious. “I’ll tell him. And if you’ll listen to any advice this dumb half-orc has to offer, it would be to focus on yourself for now, paladin. A lot’s happened, and you’ll bear the shame and honor of your role for the rest of your life. Find a way to make peace with it.”

  “Is that what you did, Godslayer?”

  “He sure did,” Tarlak answered for him. “Over the course of five years, while kicking and screaming the entire time. I pray you do better than he did.”

  She laughed, and it was so light, so soft; a reminder to Tarlak of how young the woman still was, especially compared to old war heroes like he and Harruq. He sincerely hoped a better future awaited her than the past that left her face scarred and her faith horribly tested.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Good day to the both of you, and good luck in your work with King Gregory.”

  She returned to Sonowin’s back. The horse dipped her head and neighed, which Tarlak safely assumed was the loyal beast saying goodbye in her own way. Tarlak bowed as if accepting the gratitude of a noble lord. As far as he was concerned, Sonowin was better and more useful than most human lords, anyway.

  “Safe travels,” he said.

  Sonowin’s wings spread wide, and she took to the air with a sudden gust of wind. The two watched her fly, the winged horse rapidly becoming a distant white speck amongst the clouds.

  “Even Ashhur’s paladins are shook,” Harruq said after a time.

  “Good,” Tarlak said. “After the gods ravage the world in war three damn times, you’d think everyone involved would need some time to reassess.”

  “Even you?”

  He smiled. “Of all us Eschaton, my sister was the best of us. If Delysia’s faith in Ashhur never wavered, then neither will mine. At the very least, I’ll keep her in my heart, and trust that when my time finally comes, it’ll be her face I first see when I step into the Golden Eternity.”

  “Hopefully,” Harruq said with a grin. “What if it’s that Cecil person whose body you stole, there to demand it back?”

  “Fuck that guy. He’s rotting in the Abyss, I’m sure of it.”

  They both laughed, Harruq at the joke, Tarlak at the sheer absurdity of his entire life. The weight of the world lessened, and when he looked once more to Devlimar’s ruins, lit by warm morning light, he decided that perhaps his initial view of the land was accurate. It was a field recently plowed and prepared for harvest. Tarlak was starting to get on in years, but he had the entire second half of his life ahead of him as far as he was concerned. Perhaps he might help grow a new world in it, one with a lot less death and destruction.

  Suddenly tired of looking upon Dezrel’s largest grave, Tarlak looped his fingers together and stretched out until his knuckles popped.

  “Well, Jessilynn might not want a portal, but I sure as the Abyss don’t feel like walking back to the city. Where to next, half-orc? The castle, and young Gregory? Maybe to Ahaesarus so we can find out what he and the rest of his angels plan on doing now that Azariah’s been defeated? I don’t think anyone will be too happy for a return to angelic rule, but we’ll likely need their help to ensure what lords are left alive properly bend the knee and swear allegiance.”

  Harruq laughed, easily dismissing all of Tarlak’s suggestions.

  “Nah, piss on all of that,” he said. “Take me to Aurelia. I want nothing more than to spend time with my wife and daughter.”

  “Request granted,” Tarlak said. A snap of his fingers ripped open a swirling blue tear in reality. “And honestly, right now, that sounds like the absolute best place to be.”

  34

  Harruq scratched at a bite on his neck, once again grumbling at Ahaesarus’s need to meet him so many miles north of Mordeina in some bug-infested forest.

  “If you’re going to trudge me through the wilderness, you could at least give me a reason,” he said. “Or have let Tarlak open us up a
portal instead of making me walk.”

  The angel pressed on, unbothered by the low-hanging branches and the occasional thorny bush he had to shove aside.

  “You whine like a child. More so, perhaps, for during my time with children I do not remember them being so full of complaints. Is that your nature, or the nature of all half-orcs?”

  “Nah, that’s just me, but I wouldn’t call it whining. ‘Stating the obvious truth’ sounds a whole lot better.”

  “Well, then I shall tell you an obvious truth, and that is we are almost there.”

  It had been two weeks since Azariah’s death and the complete obliteration of Devlimar. Treasure hunters had attempted to excavate the ruins, as Tarlak had predicted, but what little they found was withered and rotten. There would be no salvaging it. Ashhur’s and Celestia’s condemnation was complete. With the fallen angels’ deaths, and Ahaesarus’s guidance, young Gregory had been reappointed to the throne in a modest ceremony. And of course, as much as he grumbled about it, Harruq had been declared his regent. All the duties Harruq loathed resumed immediately, including more long meetings and constant complaints from those in power. So when Ahaesarus had asked Harruq to accompany him on a trip north of the city, to some secret place in a forest, he had been all too eager to accept the diversion.

  “So should I be worried?” he asked as the trees started to thin. “I feel like you’re plotting something, and I doubt I need to remind you how well things went the last time angels were secretly plotting behind all our backs.”

  “No,” Ahaesarus said, flinching as if he’d been kicked. “You need not.”

  The trees suddenly halted and the ground became uneven. Enormous slates of stone rose up to form caves and shelters, and only the occasional skinny tree managed to find a home amid the turmoil. Before one such cave swirled a tremendous golden portal. Harruq stared at it, certain he could see images on the other side, but they were hazy and unsteady, like reflections atop a pool of water. Within them he saw hints of green hills, a blue sky, and a distant palace of gold. Several dozen angels stood before the portal, and upon Harruq’s arrival, they bowed low.

  “To the Godslayer,” they said in unison. A chill ran up Harruq’s spine.

  “This is far too much,” he said, but he could not help but grin. “But it’s nice to get some recognition, finally.”

  The angels began filing into the portal, whose surface shimmered like a melting mirror.

  “I feel like I owe you, of all people, an explanation,” Ahaesarus said. “For it was your heartfelt prayer that split the skies and brought us to Dezrel. If we are to leave, then let you be the one given our reason, and left to share the news with others.”

  Harruq crossed his arms and grunted. That the angels were eager to leave didn’t surprise him, not after all that had happened. He stared at the swirling golden gate, wondering just what lay on the other side. Wondering if his little girl was in there. If she watched. If she waited.

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  Ahaesarus removed his sword from his back and jammed it deep into the earth. His hands clutched the hilt and he leaned his weight upon it.

  “It is only after much thought and prayer that I came upon this realization,” he said. “One I wish my friend Azariah had reached himself before he...crossed lines that must never be crossed.” The angel paused momentarily, then shook his head as if to clear away a fog. “Once the first Gods’ War ended, and we joined Ashhur in the Golden Eternity, we believed we were made perfect. We were granted our wings, with our status as Wardens elevated to a truly divine nature. Living in a land without sin, without darkness, for so many centuries seemed to prove us correct. This was the fate of all things, was it not? To be made good, and perfect, once the turmoil of this mortal life reached its end.”

  Ahaesarus closed his eyes, apparently needing another moment to gather himself before continuing with his shame.

  “I see now that we were are not perfect, Harruq. How could any of us think so, after witnessing the destruction Azariah wrought? But that was not our belief when we first returned. The Golden Eternity changed us, blessed us, made us perfect…or so we thought. Except in that divine land, we suffered no hunger. We felt no thirst. We encountered no temptation. Free of every burden, surrounded only by love and friendship, what darkness were we to find?”

  The angel ripped his sword free of the earth and held it before him.

  “Then we returned, and we were as foolish, prideful, and fallible as we had always been. Nothing about us had changed, yet now we walked Dezrel with a certainty of our own perfection. If anything, we were weaker to the temptations, for we were no longer willing to accept our positions as Wardens. We saw humanity as being beneath us, for had we not watched over them for centuries from on high? Had we not been free of the sins you committed daily? And so came our pride. So came our fall.”

  Harruq put a hand on the giant angel’s shoulder. “You did your best. I’ve always thought that of you. But you were given a tremendous burden, Ahaesarus. Try not to blame yourselves for sometimes failing. We’ve all had our share of fuck-ups. But for most people, an occasional stumble means breaking a chair or hurting a friend’s feelings. With you, and us, it meant the fate of kingdoms.”

  A faint smile crossed Ahaesarus’s golden face.

  “A comforting thought,” he said, “but I need not pity or comforting. Our time on this land will only wear us down. We who have tasted the peace of eternity no longer know how to endure the stings of mortal life. To remain your guardians will lead to yet another fall, of that I am certain. It is time we return. It is time we leave Dezrel in human hands.”

  “And elvish hands,” Aurelia added, emerging from the woods behind them. “Don’t forget, we lived here first.”

  The giant angel crossed his arms and grinned at the elf.

  “Did you follow us?” he asked.

  “I did, and it wasn’t hard. You two leave a trail wide enough for wagons to rumble through. I’d apologize for following you, but I decided it not worth the risk that my lunk of a husband here might make important decisions without me.”

  Harruq took his wife into his arms and squeezed her against his side.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered.

  “Need the emotional support?” she whispered back.

  “I was more thinking a portal home. I’ve been dreading the walk out through that forest, and you can spare me the hassle.”

  The little elf kissed the tip of his nose. “Just for that, I’m tempted to make you walk anyway.”

  She pulled away from him and addressed Ahaesarus like the elven representative she truly was. Her hands swayed out as if in a dance as she curtseyed before him. Her green and gold dress fluttered in the wind billowing forth from the divine portal.

  “All of Dezrel owes you a great debt for the sacrifices you have made,” she said. “Defeating the war god Thulos spared us all from his tyranny. Despite the failures that followed, and the great fall of many of your brethren, I pray you accept the good you did upon this world, and know we will cherish your memories with fondness and joy.”

  Ahaesarus laughed and used his sword to salute her.

  “You possess a far more silver tongue than your husband,” he said. “But thank you, Aurelia Thyne Tun. I will try to keep your words close as the days of eternity pass.”

  Ahaesarus bowed once more, and then approached the golden portal. Harruq felt a spike of panic flow through him despite it being thoroughly irrational. He wasn’t ready to let go, not yet, so he stalled with a question that honestly did worry him.

  “What of Ashhur?” Harruq asked. “And what about Karak? Are they truly done with this world? It’s...it’s a little hard to believe that.”

  The angel paused. He tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes for a moment, as if listening to a distant voice.

  “The brother gods will never truly be done with this world,” he said. “I will
not speak for Karak, but Ashhur will always love his children. He will always grant them mercy, and he will keep his eyes upon Dezrel so his followers may wield his power. But this is the end of the wars. This is the end of the dance of brother against brother, each determined to prove superiority over the other. Karak may still try, but he will dance alone.”

  Ahaesarus lifted his sword, staring at it as if seeing the blade for the first time.

  “Ashhur is a god of forgiveness and love, and there is neither in warfare. I pray Dezrel remembers this lesson, and takes it to heart. As for myself...” He gestured with the sword. “I have no need of this where I go. Might you one day give it to someone deserving?”

  “If we’re lucky, no one will have need of it here, either,” Harruq said. “But yeah, I’ll keep an eye on it if it’ll make you feel better.”

  Ahaesarus jammed the sword back into the dirt, and without another word, he walked into the portal with his head held high. The divine gateway sealed with a loud crack, the sound of stone sliding over stone, and then it was gone. The clearing dimmed. The sounds of nature resumed with birdsongs and the occasional buzz of insects. Aurelia slid her hand into Harruq’s and leaned against his arm.

  “Are you all right?” she asked

  He stood there, staring at the cave entrance where the portal had once been. He couldn’t bring himself to leave. It felt like his feet were rooted to the ground.

  “I will be,” he said. “I was just realizing this was it. We’re alone. For five years we’ve relied on the angels to keep us safe, and it was their presence that ensured Antonil, and then Gregory, could hold Mordan’s throne. Now they’re gone. It’ll be up to us.”

  “But not only us,” Aurelia said. “And I hope it will never be just us anymore. We’ve done our part for peace, wouldn’t you say?”

  Harruq laughed. “I’m not sure either of us has the heart to retire to some forgotten village and wile away our days in quiet solitude. That was more of a Qurrah thing to do, anyway. If people need help, I’m going to help. If having a big scary half-orc at the boy king’s side prevents anyone from acting stupid and trying to shove this country into another goddamn war, well...I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”