David Dalglish - A Sliver of Redemption

“It might not matter, but between you and me, I’d still prefer it to be twenty years from now rather than a day.”

“G iven how many of my own men are risking their lives, it seems inappropriate I be left out of your planning,” Bram said to Antonil as they marched through their ranks. They offered shallow compliments as they passed, hoping to use their presence to keep morale high before the coming battle.

“I gathered with my friends, nothing more,” said Antonil. “Our plans on the ground have not changed.”

“Then you let your friends rule through you, instead of you ruling them.”

They complimented several men still sparring despite the darkness, then continued on.

“I would be a fool to not heed their advice,” Antonil said. “And though I command the men, the angels are no subjects of mine.”

“Then whose are they? What lord do they swear to?”

“Ashhur, I guess.”

Bram saluted a few times, then lowered his voice as he spoke.

“So in service to Ashhur, they are in service to no one but themselves. What if my soldiers decide that is the lord they would prefer? The priests already wield great influence. Karak’s paladins held sway over our kings for over a century. My father was the first to defy them, and it nearly cost him his life.”

“What are you saying, Bram?”

Bram remained silent for a moment, realizing he was letting his emotions get the best of him. He smiled and chatted with a random soldier, then continued.

“You’ve promised my nation independence, and I trust you to keep it. But what of your son, or your son’s sons? With angels in the sky and priests guiding your decisions, how long until it is Ashhur who rules the land, not a king? Those who claim to speak for him will become rulers in all but name.”

“Ahaesarus has no desire to rule, nor the priests.”

“How do you know?” asked Bram. “The angels have been here but a short time. How many texts of Ashhur talk of a new kingdom created on the land of Dezrel? I will not have my home conquered in a holy war.”

“That won’t happen!”

“Then swear to me,” said Bram. “Swear that for a hundred years, no angel enters my land. Give me your word now, and should we both survive the morrow, let it be entered into writing and declared to an entire court of witnesses.”

“How can I swear for angels that I do not rule?”

“Then swear I may defend myself, and you will recognize my right to rule. I will not become a pawn of a theocracy.”

They reached the edge of the camp, and Antonil kept his back to his soldiers as he frowned.

“You bring a foul temperament to what should have been a peaceful night,” he said.

Bram grabbed his arm and forced him to turn and face him.

“I do what I must for my kingdom,” he said. “What if I die, but you survive? I must hope your honor is great enough to carry through your promise and protect my wife. And what if you die? You have no heir, and the one chosen will most likely bear white wings. Must I beg to them in hopes they honor your promise made to me? No chances. No risks. I do this for my home, my family, my soldiers, my nation. That is the role of a king, Antonil. You are too trusting to put your back to your friends and your life in their hands. You will find a knife there one day, carved with jewels and bearing the symbol of the mountain.”

“Enough!” Antonil said. “You have my word, still as true as when I first gave it to you. Now leave me be. I’ve heard enough insults to my name this night. Do you think I am a fool? Do you think I don’t understand the great dangers to everything I hold dear? I will die a glorious king, or as the greatest failure to rule in the history of our nations. Now either unhand my shoulder or draw your sword.”

They exchanged cold stares, neither moving, neither blinking.

“I’d always thought we could be close allies,” Bram said as he pulled back his hand.

“We still could be.”

Bram shook his head.

“Long as you hold council with paladins and angels, you are compromised. Forgive me, Antonil. You have impressed me with your courage, but after tomorrow, we are kings of adjacent nations, and nothing more.”

F or once, Velixar was too busy planning and praying to spend the night tormenting Qurrah, so he and Tess fled to the far reaches of the camp in hope of solitude. Without a fire, they cuddled together. So glad to have him there, she did not mind the chill of his skin.

“They are not far,” Qurrah said, staring north. In the distance burned the fires of Antonil’s camp, tiny spots glowing among the hills. “I wonder if Harruq is among them. Will I sense his death, if it happens? Or was he among the dead floating in the water when we crossed the Bloodbrick?”

“Your brother will find a better death than that,” Tessanna said, gently stroking the dried blood on the front of his robe. “Though I fear he finds it tomorrow.”

They fell silent, but Qurrah could not let the thought hang in the air unspoken.

“And at my hand,” he whispered.

Tessanna closed her eyes and tilted her face into the cloth of his robe.

“We are slaves, you and I,” she said. “What freedom is there for us? Can you fight him? Should he give the order, could you stay your hand?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Velixar has ruined me. He drove a wedge between us, helped kill Aullienna, and will now complete his work. As long as Harruq lives, he knows I will hold to hope. One by one, the pure moments of my past die. You will be the last, I know it. I know it, and I can do nothing to stop it. This is the Abyss, Tessanna. Swords and fire cannot compare to my torment now. To know and yet be powerless to stop the sins I have been commanded to commit. What will I say when Harruq bleeds before me? What can I hope for other than my own death, and at his hand? A final death…”

She clutched him tight, and her sobs grew loud enough for him to hear.

“Don’t talk like that,” she said between sniffles. “Don’t talk like there’s no hope. There has to be. Damn every god and goddess if there isn’t.”

He felt his anger flare at her words, but she was right, and he wished that he had something, anything, to say to convince her things would turn out all right. But what could he say? What lies did he know that she would believe?

“I love you, Tess,” he said. “Everything else is cold and frightening. But I do love you. Please know that.”

She curled into a ball on his lap and shivered as his arms surrounded her.

“If only your body was as warm as your words,” she said. “Dead or alive, Qurrah, I’ll always be yours. Never forget that.”

“I promise,” he said.

T here was only one plan Bernard would accept, and he told them of it that morning.

“Everywhere people whisper of Antonil’s return,” he told the two assassins while they gathered within the small basement of an Ashhur sympathizer. “And you yourself saw the many fires in the distance. Whatever chance they have, it dies against the dragon Melorak has summoned.”

“You don’t know that,” Veliana insisted.

“How many soldiers could they have?” Bernard asked. “Even with the angels’ help, they will die by the hundreds against that beast. It must be destroyed. You saw how weak Melorak looked. The strain of keeping that dragon in existence must be a heavy toll. Against him, I have a chance.”

“Then let us come with you,” Deathmask said. “He’ll have guards, paladins…”

The priest shook his head.

“He’ll have his undead, and they are nothing to me. The rest will be at the wall. This is the last battle, and he knows it. Even if he has a few guards, I must rely on his pride to accept a challenge. I am a priest of his most hated enemy, and to refuse would be a sign of weakness, a direct insult he will not dare allow. You two must find a way to get Antonil inside the city.”