David Dalglish: The Prison of Angels

“Antonil, a word with you if I may?” Ahaesarus asked, and Antonil nodded.

“Harruq, come with us,” the king said. “Ahaesarus, up to that wall if you’d please.”

The angel grabbed each by an arm and with a flutter of his wings they soared into the air. Moments later they landed atop the inner wall of the city, which was now completely empty. Suddenly free of the crowd, Harruq felt his stomach unclench for the first time in an hour.

“Much better,” Harruq said, turning on Antonil. “Now care to tell me what just happened down there?”

“I’m sorry, Harruq. I thought you’d say no if I asked you any other way.”

“Antonil, you know my place is with you and your army. I kill things with swords. That’s what I do. Just because your wife is pregnant doesn’t mean I should…”

“But she’s not pregnant,” Ahaesarus said, crossing his arms and frowning at Antonil. “Is she?”

Harruq’s jaw dropped. Antonil shook his head.

“No,” he said. “It’s just a ruse to justify Harruq’s appointment as steward.”

Two deaths wasn’t enough, Harruq decided. Now it was up to three.

“You tread dangerous ground,” the angel said. “You made us complicit in your lie, and neither I nor my angels appreciate this in the slightest.”

“What he said,” Harruq grumbled.

“I have my reasons,” Antonil insisted. “Harruq, please listen to me, not as your king but as your friend.”

The half-orc sighed, nodding at Antonil.

“Fine,” he said. “I’m all ears.”

Antonil turned, and from the wall he gestured to the grand city of Mordeina and its castle upon the hill.

“This isn’t my home,” he said. “I hoped otherwise, but nothing has changed over the past five years. My home, my heart, and my kingdom are all in the east, ruled by tribes of orcs. The people know this, and because of that they resent me. You’re not a fool. You’re not deaf. Surely you hear their rumblings better than I?”

Harruq crossed his arms and refused to look him in the eye.

“Of course you hear it,” Antonil said, and he let out a groan. “Too many resent my power, as do they resent the angels. This is the chance my enemies have been waiting for. I cannot leave Susan alone. I won’t risk her life, not now. So be the figurehead I need you to be. Susan will run all the important matters, and truth be told, that’s not much different than how it has been. But I won’t let her be intimidated. I won’t let others think she can be bullied or usurped. The people love you, respect you, even fear you.”

“You want me to take the danger while your wife rules in secret,” Harruq said. “Is that what you’re asking?”

“Will you deny it, Harruq? Who has less to fear from an assassin’s dagger, you or my wife? Who in my kingdom has the presence to intimidate you?”

“And what of my family?” Harruq asked. “What of my daughter?”

“Only a madman would dare harm the child of Harruq and Aurelia Tun,” Antonil said, and he smiled to hide his discomfort at the notion. “But your daughter will be with my son. They’ll be guarded together, protected together. I’m putting everything in your hands, Harruq-my family, my son, my entire kingdom. Can I trust you?”

“We’ll be here watching,” Ahaesarus said, trying to comfort the half-orc. “Avlimar is close, and if you are in need we will always be at your side. You have nothing to fear.”

Harruq glanced back and forth between them, then hung his head in surrender.

“If I’m a steward,” he asked, “does that mean I have to wear a stupid crown?”

“Nonsense,” Antonil said, smiling. “You’re in charge now. You’ll wear what you like. Or at least, what Aurelia will let you.”

Harruq laughed.

“A crown it is,” he said. “Now fly me down. I’m not ruling just yet, and until I am, I plan on finding out how much of your alcohol I can drink before passing out.”

The ax came down with a thunk, easily splitting the log in half. Qurrah Tun wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. He prespired not from exertion, but from the heat. Controlling the undead being with the ax required little effort on his part. With a slow but steady motion his undead servant pushed the split wood to the side, bent down for another log, and set it before him on the heavy stump.

“Qurrah?”

The half-orc looked up from where he sat leaning against a tree with a book in his lap.

“Yes, Tess?”

Tessanna came around the side of their cabin as the ax fell, splitting another log. Her long black hair ran all the way down to her waist. A single braid looped around her forehead, pulling her bangs away from her face. Despite her plain brown dress she looked like a goddess to Qurrah, with her pale skin, slender body, and eyes so black only a hint of white showed at the edges. The only mar upon her perfection were her arms, laced with dozens of scars, most of them self-inflicted.

“Someone’s coming,” she said.

“Well then, let’s meet him at the road,” he said, putting his book away.

“He’s not using the road.”

Qurrah let out a sigh. The arrival of an angel may not always bring bad news, but it did mean complications. They were stretched too thin across Mordan to dally with trivial things.

“Then let him come to us,” he said, taking her hand. “You aren’t nervous, are you?”

Tessanna smirked at him.

“With the two of us together? It would take many, many more angels to make me nervous…and only if I had a reason. Do we have a reason to be nervous?”

“It could be sad news, perhaps a death in the family.”

“I’d know before they.”

Qurrah took her hand and together they walked to the front of their cabin. He believed her. She’d always had a strange connection to his family, especially since the tragedy with Aullienna. The thought stung him, and he forced his mind to think of other things. If something bad had happened to Harruq, Aurelia, or especially his daughter Aubrienna, he’d have heard of it long before an angel could make the flight from Mordeina.

Mind distracted, he almost missed the landing of the angel, who softly curled about in the air so his feet touched ground with nary a sound. His hair was short, brown, and his green eyes sparkled with gold.

“Welcome to our meager home, Azariah,” Qurrah said. “You risk much coming to me. Your kind isn’t welcome within Ker’s borders.”

“I come as an ambassador, not an enforcer,” Azariah said. “Besides, when I am in the sky, who in Dezrel might harm me?”

“I could if I still had my wings,” Tessanna said, picking at the hem of her dress. “But I don’t need them anymore. At least I hope not.”

“No angel would dare pretend to know the goddess’s intentions,” Azariah said, turning to her. “But your power may have waned for a reason, and it might return with equal reason. Celestia would not leave you helpless should a need arise.”

She smiled at him so beautifully, but Qurrah sensed the daggers hiding behind it.

“Helpless?” she said, and a brief flicker of flame passed from her palm, across her knuckles, and back into her fingers, where she snuffed it. “I have forfeited my wings, and the power of a goddess is no longer mine, but do not think me helpless, angel. It would be poor sport watching you try to fly with your wings ablaze.”

Qurrah put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed as Azariah dipped his head low to show he meant no disrespect.

“It is wrong of me to be so careless with my words,” the angel said. “Especially since you and I are in such similar situations.”

Qurrah heard the thunk of an ax, and he turned around to see his pet flailing at the log, which he’d failed to fully split. Frowning, he waved a hand at it, ceasing all functions until he could deal with it later. When he turned back he caught Azariah frowning at him.