David Dalglish - The Prison of Angels

“Follow me,” Ahaesarus said.

Not far from where they landed was a house larger than the others, attached to a shed almost as large. One of the children beat them to its door, and a moment later a women in her forties stepped out.

“You are late,” she said.

“I was burdened,” Ahaesarus said, handing over the sack.

“Such excuses,” the woman said. She nodded at Harruq. “Do we get to cook him, too?”

Harruq blinked.

“Uh, no?”

“Shame. You’re a beefy one.” She gave him a wink, then hauled the sack into her house while calling out several names to come help her. Ahaesarus watched her go, then turned to Harruq, who had finally lost patience.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked. “Why do they all love you here? Bribing them with gold?”

“Not gold. Flour.”

Ahaesarus beckoned for him to follow again, and as they walked to the forest the angel explained.

“We haven’t located all of the demons,” he said. “Though Dieredon and his Ekreissar killed many, a few escaped and fled here, to this forest. This village used to live on the meat of their hunts, but the demons killed recklessly, far more than they could have eaten. It is as if their rage against the very world made them lose control. The people here were afraid to hunt, for many died trying. Even the animals eventually fled their wrath.”

“Are the demons still here?” Harruq asked, his hands reaching for the hilts of his swords. Was that why the angel had brought him, to help hunt down and kill the last of Thulos’s kind?

“No,” Ahaesarus said as they exited the village. “They left several months ago, to where I do not know. But by then the people here, they were hungry, their forest stripped clean…they were starving when I found them. Such a small village, they did not have a scepter to summon us, and it was only by chance I flew overhead.”

Before them was the forest, and Ahaesarus crossed his arms and stared within.

“The last of their hunters are in there,” he said. “They are proud, and in vain they search for deer, squirrel, even a game bird. In time such prey will return, now that the demons have fled. But not soon enough.”

“The flour,” Harruq said, remembering the sack. “You fly all this way just to bring them flour?”

“I do,” he said. “Every day for the past month I’ve made this flight back and forth from Avlimar. In doing so I have learned something, Harruq, something I would pass on to you. You are to be the steward of Mordan for years to come, and I believe this wisdom may benefit you as well as it has me. Even more so, I want you to learn it before it is too late.”

The angel folded his wings against his back and sat in the grass. Realizing they weren’t going anywhere for a while, Harruq sat opposite him, shifting his swords so their sheaths did not poke into the ground.

“Well?” he asked. He tried to be flippant about it. He’d always felt uncomfortable with these moments, when someone was trying to give him personal advice. But the solemnness in Ahaesarus made his tone feel childish. Crossing his arms, he looked to the side, berating himself so he would listen.

“Ashhur’s land fades from my mind with every passing day,” Ahaesarus said. He lifted an open hand and stared at it. “I once touched the garment of my god, yet now I cannot remember his face. Held in these fingers, held…yet now I hold a sword. With every breath I take, I become more like the man I was. Being here, in this land, among this pain and despair, it tears at me, tears at every one of my kind. We came from the sky with swords, with spears, our armor shining brighter than the sun itself. But we’ve erred, Harruq. We’ve erred, and I fear it runs too deep for us to heal.”

The silence lingered.

“How?” the half-orc dared ask.

“Every day, I bring this village food,” Ahaesarus said. “And every day, I remember the lives I am to protect. We were never meant to rule, Harruq. Never meant to be law and executioner. We’re trying to change the world, but we’ll never succeed, not like this. Through law we tried to conform man to Ashhur’s grace. What fools we were. We can’t make forgiveness law. We can’t enforce grace with a sword. This food I bring has done far more good than I have ever brought about with my blade. We weren’t meant to be masters of this world. We were meant to be servants. It is from the hearts of men, not their courts, that we shall spread our light. Jerico once told me how, before the Citadel fell, he worked the fields with the men in the village he was to preach to. Yet we angels fly above mankind, separate, watchful. I’m afraid, Harruq. I’m so afraid they feel a judging gaze, not a loving one.”

“What does that mean?” Harruq asked, trying to wrap his mind around it all. “Will you put aside your sword?”

Ahaesarus shook his head.

“No. Sometimes a servant must protect his master. But things must change, and it will not be easy. In this, I fear I am a minority among my own kind. Who are we, angels of Ashhur, to bow down and wash the feet of sinners? To bleed and sweat beside them? But they have forgotten. We are men, same as you, and each day we must decide to obey our lord lest we fall. Our wings have not freed us of that need.”

Harruq stood and put a hand on the Ahaesarus’s enormous shoulder.

“We don’t deserve a guardian like you,” he said.

“Yet he has sent me anyway.”

“Which I think was the point. Could you find a greater pair of sinners than my brother and I? Yet side by side you fought with us, many of your kind even dying for us. No wound runs too deep, not for this. We just have some work to do is all.”

Ahaesarus smiled at him and he rose to his feet.

“Mordan is blessed to have you as its steward,” he said.

“I wouldn’t go that far. These aren’t happy times, and the days ahead don’t look too sunny, either. Now grab my arms and let’s go. I have a little brat’s coronation to prepare for.”

It was another parade, this one far more somber. The whole affair seemed almost sickening to Harruq as he checked over his armor. There’d be no more chants for the Missing King, at least. No young lasses vying for his attention. The celebration was a sham, a forced event.

“Are you certain of Antonil’s death?” Ahaesarus asked, standing with him in the castle hallway.

“Little late to change our minds now,” Harruq said. “But yeah, I’m certain. Aurelia knew before anyone because of Tarlak’s message, and Kevin all but confirmed it with his attack.”

The half-orc let out a sigh, staring off into nowhere as he fought back a wave of sadness. Ahaesarus sensed it easily enough and put a large hand on his shoulder.

“Tarlak was a great man,” he said. “And even in death he saved lives. I assure you, his entry into Ashhur’s golden land was met with much rejoicing.”

Harruq forced himself to chuckle.

“Yeah,” he said. “Tarlak would have appreciated a lot of fanfare.”

Ahaesarus smiled for a time before it faded. It seemed he could not keep his mind on happier matters.

“We must discover how Antonil’s army was defeated,” the angel said. “That Kevin acted so quickly…it implies he had a hand in what transpired, and knew the same moment Aurelia did. Just as troubling is the magic set in place to interfere with your wife’s spellcasting. We’ve removed the runes, but that still leaves us to discover who made them. There is also the matter of the reports we’ve received about the North, of a supposed invasion…”

“I know,” Harruq said, interrupting him. “But right now, one thing at a time.”

A side door opened and Aurelia stepped out. She smiled at them, then moved aside so Gregory could follow. Harruq grunted, surprised at how much taller he looked, somehow regal in his deep reds and silvers, despite his age.