David Dalglish - A Sliver of Redemption

W hen they landed, and Deathmask let her go, Veliana promptly turned around and slapped him.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” she said.

Deathmask grinned. A large pair of bat-like wings stretched from his back to either side of the houses they were hidden between.

“You don’t like heights?” he asked.

“I’ve never seen you use that spell before,” she said, nodding to the wings.

“I never have,” he said, knowing what she was doing but going along anyway. “Normally the spell creates a pair of arms with claws to help with climbing. I made a tiny change and hoped for the best. And, as you see, we’re still alive.”

She slapped him again.

“Never risk my life on such a wild guess again,” she said.

“It was my life too, you know,” he said, stalking after. But she would hear none of it.

M ira stood before the dead bush, watching it as it burned. Her hands slowly danced, her fingertips glowing with magic. With every twitch the fire shrank or grew, as if it were nothing more than a manifestation of the girl’s smoldering emotions. Sadness crossed her face, and the fire shrunk, dwindled, becoming nothing but a faint hint of heat and light burning dull in the dim light of the stars.

“You all right?” a voice asked. Mira glanced back to see Lathaar approaching, his arms crossed as if he were cold.

“I’m fine,” Mira said, looking away. She closed her eyes, and with every step closer the paladin came, the fire grew deeper.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Lathaar said, standing beside her. His arm wrapped around her waist. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned against him.

“Something’s happened,” she said. “I’m not sure what it means.”

“Something?” he asked. “That’s a little vague. What’s bothering you?”

Mira gently pushed him away, then lifted her arms to the sky. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

“My mirror,” she said. “What happened to my mirror?”

The fire roared to life, higher and higher. It shot into the sky, a pillar of flame stretching to the heavens. Lathaar gaped at the sight, and without realizing it he stepped back as if afraid of the girl controlling the tremendous power. Then, with agonizing slowness, the fire lessened.

“Do you see?” Mira asked, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. The light washed over her in the gloomy night. “This is everything. My power used to ache within me, begging to be released. Now, the elements almost laugh at me, granting me their use for only a little while. My mirror…What happened to my mirror? Has Celestia abandoned us both? Am I to be punished for her actions? Or maybe this is my fault. I should be dead, Lathaar, dead and gone and with all of Dezrel better for it.”

Lathaar’s heart pained at hearing her words. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, ashamed for having feared her presence, if only for a little while.

“You are as powerful as you are beautiful,” he told her. “Never say such a thing. I need you here with me. I need to remember why this world is so precious, so valuable. Why we fight.”

She turned from the fire and buried her face in his chest. His armor was cold. This angered her for some reason.

“Will you want me to fight with you tomorrow?” she asked.

Lathaar nodded.

“At my side. We know the demons overran Kinamn when they chased us west. How many still guard it, we don’t know. If we’re to have any hope of rest, we need to retake the castle. Within should be some supplies, and more so, we won’t have to worry about them harrying us as we flee west.”

“If we flee west,” Mira said. “Many wish to stop and fight. Our numbers will grow no larger.”

“That’s not true,” Lathaar insisted. “We have but a fraction of Mordan’s troops, and our contact with Ker is limited. Antonil is their king, and both will muster forces so great in number even Thulos will fear our might.”

Mira laughed.

“He’ll fear nothing,” she said, kissing his chin. “Not us. Not our power. We’re playing his game, and as long as it is by his rules, we will lose.”

The two fell silent. The bush burned away to ash, its heat vanishing, its light gone.

“Let’s go to bed,” he told her. “Tomorrow will be a bloody day.”

“You go,” she said. “I’ll be with you soon. I wish a moment alone.”

He kissed her forehead, then gave in to her request. Once he was gone, she looked to the stars, a prayer to Celestia on her lips.

“Tell me what is right,” she whispered. “Tell me I have done no wrong. Tell me you love me, mother. Please. That’s all I ask.”

She went to Lathaar, having heard only silence.

H arruq stood beside Antonil, the two surveying the city in the distance from their spot atop a gentle hill.

“So you want me, Tarlak and the others to go crashing in, kill a bunch of demons, and basically distract them while the angels open the gates?” he asked.

“That’s the plan, yeah,” Antonil said. “Ahaesarus seemed to think it was workable.”

“Uh huh.” Harruq scratched his chin. “Care to answer me a question? Whose banner is that flying above the towers?”

Antonil squinted, his vision nowhere as excellent as the half-orc’s.

“I can’t tell. What’s it look like?”

Harruq frowned.

“Let me see…looks like a giant axe with a bloody handle.”

“That’s the White’s family banner,” said Antonil. “They’ve been flying that one for years.”

“So not the demons.” Harruq pointed. “So why is it up there above the city?”

This time it was Antonil’s turn to frown.

“You know, that’s a very good question.”

Behind them stretched the remains of Mordan’s army, preparing weapons and gathering into formations under Sergan’s sharp commands. The angels circled above, also preparing. Only one angel, Ahaesarus judging by his size, remained earthbound, talking with Tarlak at the outskirts of the human camps. Antonil put his fingers in his mouth and whistled until the wizard finally looked over.

“What?” Tarlak asked as he approached, adjusting his hat on his head. Ahaesarus followed, curious.

“I need you or one of Ahaesarus’s angels to fly over and survey the castle,” Antonil said. “Either that, or you open a portal and sneak in to look around, Tarlak.”

“I can send one of my scouts,” Ahaesarus said.

“An excellent idea,” said Tarlak. “As are all ideas that won’t get me needlessly killed.”

“You work for me, remember,” Antonil said.

Tarlak winked.

“Still waiting on my pay.”

They waited as Ahaesarus took to the air, called over one of his angels, and sent him toward the castle.

“So what’s going on, anyway?” Tarlak asked as they watched.

“Something’s strange here,” Harruq said. “Just keep your fingers crossed.”

“Toes, too,” said Antonil. “I’d love to escape this morning without a battle.”

A few minutes later the angel returned, a smile on his face.

“My lords,” he said as he landed with a great rush of air and rustle of feathers. “I have a wonderful surprise for you.”

T he troops marched toward the gate, the men singing songs and cheering. The men on the walls cheered back in return, and sang their songs all the louder as the angels neared. Antonil led the way, Ahaesarus at his side. The Eschaton hung back, preferring to let the king handle the first introductions.

“You were the one here last,” Harruq asked Tarlak. “What’s going on?”

“Their king was dead,” the wizard said as they walked, raising his voice to be heard over the throng. “Some lord named Penwick went to great pains to hide that fact, because the various other lords were going to tear themselves to pieces vying for the throne. When we left, Penwick was still in charge. I can’t imagine he fared too well when the demons came flying in.”