David Dalglish - The Prison of Angels

“I guess compared to what we’ve dealt with before, this is only a minor inconvenience,” he said. “I mean, it’s not like there’s going to be flying demons and an angry war god chasing after us.”

“Always looking on the bright side,” Sergan said, and he laughed.

Tarlak laughed with him, though it was entirely forced.

Jessilynn waited in the dark, hating that she’d been left behind. It reminded her of her earliest days after entering the Citadel, friendless and alone because of her sex. She’d only been eleven, unable to fully understand why the other boys looked at her like she was a different species. The days had been long, and that first year she’d cried herself to sleep more times than she could count. But through it all, she’d endured. Jerico in particular had done everything he could to make her feel welcome, accepted. In time she’d finally felt like she belonged.

Belonging, though, still didn’t mean she was like the others. Getting dressed, keeping herself clean during her monthlies, even taking a piss meant going off on her own. It was like a sore on the roof of her mouth that refused to go away. Most of the time she could easily ignore it, pretend it didn’t bother her, but sometimes…

Without a fire to warm her, or even provide mild entertainment, she sat huddled and did her best to pray to Ashhur. She begged for patience, for calm. Most of all, she asked her god for bravery, because no matter what Dieredon decided, she knew it would not involve running away, not from such a massive gathering of forces.

After far too long, she heard the sound of wings, and then Sonowin softly landed in the flat yellow grass nearby. Dieredon hopped off, and though Jessilynn had stood at his arrival, he only sat down beside her. He said nothing, staring up at the stars in thought. It made Jessilynn uncomfortable, and she crossed her arms and shifted her weight from foot to foot.

“I wish you’d bring me with you,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Your armor is too loud. It would give us away.”

“Weren’t you going to teach me to make new armor?”

Dieredon finally looked her way.

“Indeed,” he said. “But it seems we won’t have time for such lessons, will we?”

She deserved that, she knew, but at least he was talking to her now.

“What did you learn?” she asked, sitting back down and facing him.

Dieredon looked to the west, where the creatures of the Wedge had gathered in the ravine.

“There does appear to be some sort of ruling council,” he said. “The various races on the whole do not interact with one another, but I’ve seen lone members go into the wolf-men side, or at least close to it. There’s a large pile of bones nearby, and it isn’t just refuse like I first thought. They’re meeting there, discussing. Right now, it appears there is a wolf-man strong enough to frighten not only his kind, but the rest of the creatures as well.”

“Then our task is simple,” Jessilynn said. “We kill that wolf-man, and the alliance collapses in his absence.”

Dieredon nodded.

“That is my belief as well, though it will not be simple. Any creature with such a fearsome reputation will have earned it in blood. It seems this council meets once each night. I think whatever they’re preparing, it is about to begin. Arrivals have slowed, and the tension among the races is thick. Whoever is in charge will need to act soon, lest this entire army dissolve into chaos.”

“How do we kill their leader?” Jessilynn asked.

“I have to discover who it is first,” Dieredon said. “And that means getting close enough to overhear one of their meetings.”

Jessilynn thought of the ravine, and of how each entrance was heavily populated with the vile creatures.

“There’s no way,” she said.

To this, Dieredon smiled.

“Even the eyes and ears of wolves are nothing to me, Jessilynn. But if you’ve been wanting to be involved, don’t worry. Tomorrow night, my life will be in your hands.”

Jessilynn swallowed, felt a tightening in her chest. Suddenly, remaining behind seemed like a much better idea.

The wolf-men occupied the larger southern end of the ravine, effectively blocking in most of the races, with the hyena-men filling the smaller northern end. Jessilynn and Dieredon lay flat on their bellies at the very top of the cliff above. Below was the pile of bones, where they expected another meeting to take place. Between the two was a long, thin rope, one end securely fastened to the ground with two different hooks.

“Remember, the fires will be my greatest ally,” Dieredon whispered to her. “Their eyes are sharp, but not when so close to light. That means only wolf-men arriving from outside the ravine pose any danger of spotting me. That is when you must signal. Are you certain you have them memorized?”

“One to halt, two to retreat, three if spotted,” she said, repeating what he’d told her countless times.

“Make sure you are certain, and make sure you keep the signals clear. Give a test signal early on as well, understand?”

Jessilynn nodded. Her breathing had increased, and she felt strangely light-headed. Her ears were full of the howls and roars of the creatures below, and now the only friend she had for hundreds of miles was about to descend into that beastly den.

“If something should happen, run to Sonowin,” Dieredon said as he took hold of the rope and secured it to his belt. “She’ll fly you back to the Citadel, and from there it’ll be up to you to convince Lathaar and Jerico to act accordingly.”

She nodded again, too nervous to speak. Her bow was slung over her shoulder, along with her arrows, and she wished she had them in her hands. She obviously couldn’t take on thousands of creatures all by herself, but at least she wouldn’t feel so helpless. As Dieredon began his descent, she remained on her stomach, clutching the rope with both hands. The rope was intended solely as a safety line should the elf needed to ascend rapidly, as well as a means of communication between him and Jessilynn. The ravine cliff, while steep, was far from sheer, and with amazing strength Dieredon descended, looking like a spider as he shifted between handholds.

Jessilynn looked away from the elf and instead scanned the area below. She trusted Dieredon and his camouflage to keep himself hidden. The fires dotting the wolf-man section of the ravine were at a perfect distance, too far to cast significant light on the ravine wall, yet still close enough to affect the eyes of those at the bone pile and the surrounding area. Even when she tried to locate him, knowing he was there, she needed a moment. It was his cloak, she realized. Something about its subtle splotches of green and brown seemed to perfectly blend in with the stone.

When Dieredon was a quarter of the way down she tugged on the rope, pulling until she felt resistance like she’d been shown. The elf halted, flattening himself against the cliff face and remaining perfectly still. After counting to ten, she tugged once more. Using the same number as the previously given command cancelled the command. Dieredon resumed his descent, and Jessilynn continued scanning the area. So far, it appeared there were no patrols, which was far from surprising. What could the creatures possibly need protection from? The bigger danger to Jessilynn and Dieredon were the hunting parties, which returned both often and irregularly.

When he was halfway down she spotted a group of seven wolf-men coming in from the south. She tugged once, hoping she hadn’t noticed too late. Dieredon stopped, flattening himself again. The wolf-men loped past the great pile of bones, three of the seven carrying corpses across their shoulders. Two were of other wolf-men, she saw, while a third was that of a goblin. Runaways, perhaps? Was it punishment, feasting, or both? She received her answer swiftly enough, as the wolf-men plopped the bodies into the center of their camp and let out a howl.