David Dalglish - The Prison of Angels

Turning the corner, he startled to find Kevin Maryll leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Harruq saw the smile on his face, the smugness, and knew the man had heard every word.

“What do you want?” Harruq asked.

Kevin shrugged.

“It seems unfair to say. I’ve already had so many wishes granted today.”

It was too much. Harruq snapped, grabbed the lord by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the stone wall.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his face inches away from Kevin’s. “Is this what you’ve worked so hard for? I hope you’re happy, you madman.”

“I’m ecstatic,” Kevin said through clenched teeth.

“People are dying, and you’re ecstatic?” Harruq felt an intense desire to draw his sword. To stop himself, he instead struck Kevin’s cheek with his fist. Kevin didn’t even let out a cry despite the blood that dripped from his lips.

“Hit me again,” Kevin said, his voice like ice. “Act like the thug I know you are. You were born scum, Harruq, a homeless thief with a whore for a mother and a dead elf for a father. Everyone knows the story. It’s sadly a rare few of us who actually listen.”

“You have no idea what I’ve suffered through,” Harruq said.

“And I don’t care! You rule, not me, so it’s time you looked out that balcony and accepted the truth.”

Kevin grabbed Harruq’s armor, yanked him closer. His eyes filled his vision, wide with fury, hard with certainty.

“Those angels don’t care about us. They can preach mercy and love until their wings fall off, but that’s not how they see us. We’re just cattle to them! Look how easily they turned. Look how easily they butcher us, so long as they feel their priests can justify it. We wanted a greater stake in our fates, and in answer they slaughter hundreds.”

Harruq shoved him against the wall a second time, then stepped away.

“You’re wrong,” he said.

“Am I?” Kevin spat blood onto the carpet. “Angels fly to Ker for your brother, did you know that? I suspect you do. His name came up in the council during its final minutes. Do you know what they called him, your precious, reformed brother? ‘An acceptable loss.’ This is a hard lesson, Harruq, perhaps the hardest lesson of all. The nation you rule is headed for war. It’s one we’ll win, of course, but thousands will die. So accept the silver lining. The people of Dezrel will finally see the angels for what they truly are: superior savages that would lord over us all. A hard lesson, learned in blood.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Harruq said, feeling sick. “How?”

“Because I want a king, not a god. You told Ahaesarus if he didn’t stop this, you’d stop it yourself. It’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say since taking over Antonil’s role. For all our sakes, I hope you meant it.”

Kevin fixed his shirt, then gave him a low, exaggerated bow. As he walked off, the image of plunging Condemnation through the lord’s back flashed through Harruq’s mind. He forced it away. The man’s words haunted him, and he retreated back to the balcony, wanting one more breath of fresh air. As he leaned against the railing, his hand touched the broken section Ahaesarus had struck. He stared at the stone, then looked to the slumbering city. Throughout he saw the angels flying, the faint white of their robes seemingly a lie.

“What are you to us?” Harruq whispered. “And what are we to you?”

To that, he had no answer. Not anymore.

In such a crowded ravine, solitude should have been a near impossibility, or at least that’s whatJessilynn initially thought. It turned out not to be true. Near the wolf-men encampment there was a deep crack in the side of the cliff, forming a thin cave. Not more than a few feet in it turned completely dark, lacking torch or fire. It was into that darkness the female took her, shoving her to the ground. Even with her age she still had impressive strength.

“Your bow,” she said. “Hand it to me.”

Jessilynn hesitated. So far they’d yet to take it from her, and it remained slung across her back along with her quiver of arrows. She debated drawing one. Surely she could kill an old wolf. But what would she do after? She thought of the creatures as they’d gathered below Dieredon, waiting for him to fall. She thought of the way they’d torn into the butchered cattle, or even other members of their own race. The fear paralyzed her.

“The bow. Hand it to me. Now.”

She did as she was told, giving over the quiver as well. The female held them to her chest, nodding.

“My name is Silver-Ear,” she said. “Though I let you live, I am not your friend. Remain here. If you leave the cave, you will die.”

With that she left Jessilynn to the darkness. She sat on her rear, arms curled across her knees, and shivered. What did the beasts plan to do to her? Was there something worse than being eaten alive? The other boys at the Citadel had often joked of the crude things wolf-men did, always to innocent maidens of course, but she’d never taken them seriously. It’d been easy to dismiss back then, but now she was so afraid it made every single outlandish story contain grains of truth. They’d rape her. They’d mutilate her. They’d feast on her flesh, then let her recover so they might eat again and again, until she was nothing but a sobbing stump. They’d force her to kneel before the moon and renounce Ashhur, lest the pack have their way with her.

Stop it, she told herself. Just stop it.

Rumors, jokes, stupid things that meant nothing. She knew that. Again she prayed to Ashhur, but in that deep darkness, it seemed he was so far away. Halfway through her first prayer she broke down. What had she been thinking, accepting a role beside Dieredon? He was one of the legendary heroes, and she was just…well…

She was just an exhausted, frightened little girl in a cave surrounded by monsters.

Movement from the cave entrance pulled her attention away from herself. Yellow eyes glinted, and despite her best efforts not to, she let out a gasp. It was the two identical wolf-men. She could tell just from their size. The cave was deep enough that they could stand side by side, and they loomed before her, peering down like she were an alien thing.

The one with the white around his eyes kneeled lower, then began to ask questions.

“What do you know of the towers beyond the river?” he asked.

Jessilynn felt a momentary panic as she struggled to understand what he asked of. The Wall of Towers, she realized. It did little to calm her panic.

“Nothing,” she said, forcing herself not to stammer. “I’ve never been there.”

“What of the boats, the patrols?”

Her silence was answer enough.

“The lands beyond the river, they have great armies. How many wear metal armor like you?”

Why did they think she knew these things? She thought to guess, but decided otherwise. She would not lie to them, no matter the convenience.

“I don’t know,” she said. The look the two wolf-men gave her was chilling, and it was clear their patience was nearing an end.

“Your armor. You are a paladin, yes?”

Jessilynn nodded, then realized the creatures might not fully understand such human gestures.

“Yes,” she said. “I am.”

“Where is the one they call Jerico? Does he still live?”

She did her best to hide her surprise. They knew of Jerico? Earlier they’d mentioned someone like her humiliating their father. Their father…

She let out a gasp, realizing exactly who it was that stood before her. One of her favorite stories at the Citadel had been Jerico telling of how he and Darius withstood an onslaught of wolf-men crossing the river to attack the small village of Durham. They’d been led by a vicious wolf-man named Redclaw. In the stories Jerico never told of what happened to the beast. Now, it seemed she knew. The hatred in their eyes grew all the more frightening.