David Dalglish - The Prison of Angels

All around him men screamed as beaks snapped down on their arms and long raptor claws raked against their exposed flesh. Two hundred against thousands , thought Daniel as he continued to hack and slash. But what more could they do, other than buy time for his rider? Daniel thought of the people beyond, the farmlands that waited like ripened berries for the beasts to pluck. Two towers falling in the same night? What did it mean?

“Fall back!” he screamed. Bodies of the dead floated all throughout the river, obstacles against the remaining forces, but too many bird-men were making it clear of the water. “Fall back to the tower!”

Daniel led the way, his old legs pumping as hard as they could. Others passed him by, younger and faster than he. From behind he heard screams, wet snapping sounds, and overwhelming it all was that continuous, mind-numbing shriek. Into the tower he ran. Several soldiers stood at the door, watching. The moment the last man entered they slammed it shut, flinging the heavy bolts in place. Immediately the door shook as bodies smashed into the other side. Digging soon followed, sharp claws scratching grooves into the thick wood.

“Find anything you can to block the door with,” Daniel ordered before climbing the stairs. His bones ached, but he ignored the pain easily enough, for even on good days his body gave him trouble. To the very top of the tower he climbed, opening a hatch in the ceiling. He grabbed a wrapped package from his closet, then up he went, climbing onto the small flat space. Other than a few stacked stones there was nothing to keep him from falling, and on his knees he overlooked the surrounding area. The full moon kept the land lit, and he directed his gaze to the river.

The bird-men continued swimming across. At least three thousand, he guessed, as the creatures swarmed throughout the inner compound, looking like a horde of vermin from that height. A few failed to climb the sides of the stone, the rest taking turns scratching at the door. Daniel shook his head, knowing it would not take long before the door fell.

Goat-men. Bird-men. Daniel’s gut told him the wolf-men were a part of it as well. A coordinated attack. He shivered to think of who could ally the beasts together. It was their constant squabbling that had kept their numbers in check for all these years, their inherent hatred of each other that had protected the people on the other side of the river from any real danger. But somehow that was gone.

“Ashhur help us all,” he said.

He unwrapped the package. The gold of the scepter shone in the moonlight. Daniel lifted it above him and spoke the command word. The blue pillar shot into the sky, the beacon visible for miles upon miles. He stared at it, daring to have hope. Twice more he activated it, and each time he noticed the bird-men below staring up as if mesmerized. He wondered what the creatures’ pathetic brains thought of the light. Perhaps they knew what it meant. After all, they’d coordinated an assault on multiple towers. Despite his years, not to mention his experience, he still hadn’t given enough credit to the beasts.

“Where are you?” Daniel muttered, staring at the sky. He’d never called for the angels before, but this seemed as perfect a time as any. At least he might inform them of the attack, ensuring that the riders he sent to Lord Hemman didn’t have their warnings go unheeded. The minutes passed, interminable due to the constant squawking and screeching.

At last he saw white wings. They were almost above him by the time he spotted them, for they came from the east. Daniel raised his arms, waving, but something was wrong. The wings were even larger than he expected, and as the creature dipped, he realized it wasn’t an angel at all, but a winged horse. Two people rode atop it, their bodies just faint silhouettes. Slowly he lowered his hands, and he felt his innards tighten. Silent, he watched as the horse circled twice, then continued west.

From the horse shot a blinding object. An arrow, Daniel realized, as it smashed into one of the bird-men. It was only one, and then they were gone, flying toward the Castle of the Yellow Rose. The acknowledgement made Daniel feel better, but only by a miniscule amount. At least someone else, one of the elven Ekreissar, apparently, would help spread the tale. Perhaps an army might be raised in time. Perhaps thousands of lives might be spared.

From below he heard the shattering of wood, and he glanced down to see the tower doors had broken. His men fought bravely, using the cramped space of the doorway to their advantage, but defeat was inevitable. He had barely fifty men left. Against three thousand, what could they do?

One last time he used the scepter, calling Ashhur’s name so the light would pierce the night. As it faded, and the starlight replaced it, he let out a sigh. Wherever the angels were, it wasn’t where they were needed. From his limp hand he let the scepter drop. Down the side of the tower it fell, smashing as it hit ground. A puff of blue smoke rose from the pieces, drifting away to nothingness as the bird-men swarmed through the gateway, killing their way ever higher.

At last he heard movement from the hatch, which he’d left open. Drawing his sword, he turned. A single creature came climbing upward, its wings making it difficult for the thing to get a grip on the rungs. Daniel shoved his sword down its throat, then kicked in its beak. It fell, the noise alerting the rest to his presence. The monsters scrambled upward, biting at his thrusts, using their impressive strength to hurl themselves at the hatch, ignoring the ladder altogether. Daniel laughed as he fought, thinking he might be able to kill them off one at a time, brawling as the hours passed and he whittled the thousands down at the ridiculously slow pace.

That thought didn’t last long. One of the bird-men’s beaks locked tight when he stabbed it straight through its throat and into the back of the brain. It fell, hurdling backward so violently that it yanked the sword from Daniel’s hand. Weaponless, he backed toward the edge of the tower, preparing himself. He would not be their food. A single step and off he’d go, falling, the ground to be his killer instead of the freakish leftovers of a long-forgotten war.

The first bird-man made it to the top of tower, but it did not find the easy prey it expected. A heavy gust of air blew Daniel away from the ledge, and then a man came falling from the sky, a long blade in hand. The man, an elf, stabbed the creature through the eye upon landing, then kicked it down to join the rest of the bodies in Daniel’s room.

“That damn girl is going to be the death of me,” the elf said, glancing over his shoulder as he settled into a stance before the hatch. “Consider yourself fortunate for the eagerness of youth.”

Behind him, Daniel heard the winged horse let out a neigh, and when he turned he saw the creature hovering just beyond the ledge. A young woman sat atop it, reaching for him.

“Take my hand!” she shouted, and before he lost his nerve he did just that. His step was not far enough, and as she yanked he fell with his stomach bent over the horse’s back. That appeared good enough, and into the air they shot, leaving the elf behind.

“Don’t take us far!” the girl shouted as Daniel hung on for dear life.

“What?” he shouted back.

“Not you!”

Less than a quarter-mile beyond the tower was a stretch of forest, and the horse landed at its edge. Daniel slipped off, thrilled to be on solid ground. Barely slowing, the pair hooked around and swooped back toward the tower. Daniel watched while on his knees, trying to regain his breath. He felt overwhelmed, pulled back from certain death to a sudden reprieve. At the same time he knew his men were gone, his tower overrun. He didn’t know how to feel, other than sick and exhausted. Even from the forest he could hear the sounds of the bird-men, and it filled him with shivers.