The Prison of Angels

10

Beside her, Qurrah stirred, his mouth opening to let out a soft whimper. Tessanna leaned in close, kissed his lips until they shut. They slept not far off the road north, and in the light of the moon Tessanna let her fingers brush her lover’s face. Her lips slowly drifted their way to his forehead, where her fingertips had softly traced an arcane, invisible shape upon his skin. And then she breathed. The nightmares, the fear, the tormented memories: they all came floating out of her lover like a black mist. Deep into her lungs she inhaled them, letting them burn within her, squirming in her belly like fire beetles.

“Sleep well,” she whispered as Qurrah’s body visibly relaxed.

Every night since the angels had healed his corrupted body, banishing the undead flesh and returning him whole, he had suffered those dreams. Every night Tessanna took them, carried them within herself.

It was the stink of Velixar. The stink of Karak. It floated around him, demanding death. Tessanna’s dark eyes saw it, began to water as she bent over Qurrah’s body and braced her arms. Her thin, pale form shivered as the whispers flooded into her.

You are mine, they hissed. Mine. The promise remains. Open your arms, Qurrah. Come back and embrace me.

“Never,” Tessanna said through her tears. “Never again.”

Sleep was a long time coming, and when it did come, she dreamed of fire.

Qurrah was surprised by the amount of travelers they encountered on the road to Mordeina. Hoping to avoid suspicion, he kept his questions few and instead let his ears do the work. Most were traveling north, hoping to find work now that so many able-bodied men had left on Antonil’s war against the orcs.

On their fourth day they came upon an inn. Qurrah’s coin was few, but the idea of him and Tess sleeping on an actual bed was too tempting.

“Tonight we spoil ourselves,” he said, taking her hand and leading her inside.

“We’ll have nothing left when we reach Mordeina,” Tessanna pointed out.

“True,” Qurrah said. “But my brother is steward of the realm. I dare say we’ll be fine.”

The inn was crowded, and for a moment Qurrah worried there would be no room.

“There’s still a bed or two left,” a fat man on the far side of the open kitchen shouted, as if reading his mind. “Ginger, get over there and get their things.”

A young lad with bright red hair raced through the many tables, then quickly bowed before the two.

“I would prefer to carry them on my own,” Qurrah told him. “Just show us to our room.”

The kid nodded, beckoning them to follow.

The room was small, barely able to fit the bed within. At least they wouldn’t be sharing a room with any of the other travelers, Qurrah thought. He looked over the sheets and pushed against the straw as the boy watched expectantly.

“How long until dinner will be served?” he asked as Tessanna stood in the corner, looking very tired.

“Another hour,” Ginger said.

“Very well. Leave us.”

The kid nodded and shut the door. Qurrah sighed as Tessanna moved to his side.

“Lice,” the half-orc murmured. “And fleas. Such a charming locale.”

With a wave of his hand a soft cloud floated from his palm down to the bed, curling over it like mist upon a lake. The cloud was death, and though weak enough even a child could go unbothered, it was still far more than the parasites could withstand. Their tiny bodies would remain, but at least they wouldn’t be crawling all over him, biting his flesh.

“Eat without me,” Tessanna said, kissing his cheek. Qurrah glanced at her, frowning.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You haven’t looked well for much of our trip.”

“No. I just want some peace. Bring me a bit of bread when you’re done, and I’ll eat it later.”

Qurrah shrugged.

“As you wish.”

He left his room and returned to the commons, finding an unused table with only two chairs. He sat in one, put his feet on the other, and beckoned Ginger over.

“Bread and drink,” he said.

“Dad says you need to pay for your room before you eat.”

The half-orc sighed, pulled out a handful of coins, and settled the bill. It left him with just enough to cover the cost of his food, and he handed that over as well.

“Bring me enough for two,” he said before the kid could leave. “I’ll be taking some to my room.”

Finally alone, Qurrah leaned back and let his ears soak in the conversations. It was still somewhat quiet in his corner, with the bulk of the men and women gathering near the fire. They were laughing, talking, and their mirth made Qurrah feel strangely bitter. He wished Tessanna had come with him, wished he could have flirted with her awhile. Her mood had slowly soured over the past year, though not consistently. Nothing was ever consistent with Tessanna. He doubted she’d ever tell him why, either. Was it their continuing inability to have a child? Her lack of purpose since the Gods’ War? Did she just miss contact with the rest of the world? Every time he thought he knew, something else she said or did contradicted the idea.

His meal came, and Qurrah ate it with speed but without any real appreciation. Sipping at the watery beer Ginger brought him, he once more tried to listen in. One of the louder men at the fire was telling a raunchy tale when the door to the inn burst open, and in walked a bearded man with a heavy ax on his back.

“Gervis!” several men shouted, lifting their glasses in toast.

Gervis grinned at them in return.

“You’ll all be buying me a round tonight,” the big man nearly roared. “Do I have a tale to tell!”

Qurrah leaned deeper into his seat, narrowed his eyes, and hoped it would be of something useful. The men at the fire shifted aside, making way for Gervis to plop down before the flames, his ax still on his back.

“Trader just came in from the borderlands,” Gervis began, accepting an offered cup from one of his friends. “About a week back they had a hanging at Norstrom.”

“Had hangings before,” a particularly drunk man shouted, and he laughed as if it were the funniest thing.

“We have,” Gervis said, guzzling down his own drink. “But this one was done to a sick fuck who liked to diddle with little boys and girls. But that ain’t the thing that got the traders talking. No, this one was done without the angels’ permission. By the Abyss, I dare say it was even done against their permission.”

He had their attention now, Qurrah’s included.

“What happened?” someone asked once it was clear Gervis would wait for some prodding.

“Well, an angel finally took note of it. They’d strung the guy from a pole, used his dick as a rope supposedly. No one would claim responsibility, either. Drove the angel mad is what they’re saying. Started hollering, waving his sword around.”

The men were laughing now.

“Wish I could have seen that.”

“Nothing like watching them holier than shit angels squirm a little.”

“Red-faced, I bet he was, red like a tomato!”

Gervis gestured for a refill.

“This is where it stops being funny,” he said. “Listen close, now. You know I tell no lies. This angel, Ezekai was his name I believe, he demanded they cut down the pervert and bury him. Well, the people of Norstrom wanted no part of that. And when they refused, the angel drew his sword and attacked them.”

The laughing dwindled to chuckles, then to silence. All around at other tables, conversation slowed. It was as if a hot wind had blown through the place, and Gervis grinned, knowing all ears were now his.

“No one died,” he continued. “But that don’t change matters none. He drew his sword and started swinging, knocking people out of his way just so he could cut down and bury the fucker. These were just regular people, people like you or me, and he was ready to kill every last one of them to get his way. And what were these people doing? Standing up for their rights, that’s what! The law’s supposed to be in our hands, in man’s hands. But they don’t like that none, do they?”

Qurrah waved Ginger over and requested more to drink. The moment it arrived, Qurrah guzzled it down, his mind racing. The topic at every table was now the same, grumblings and complaints about the angels. Two men directly beside Qurrah were obnoxiously loud, and he had little choice in overhearing.

“One told my wife I was cheating on her when he found out,” one of the men said. “Can you believe that? What place is that for him, huh? Like it matters I had a quick roll around with Jessie. None of their damn business.”

“What’d she do?” the man’s friend asked.

“Left me, took our kid with her, too. Dumb bitch. I’m better without her.”

Qurrah struggled to bite his tongue. Was this what the people really wanted? The right to cheat on spouses and dole out brutal justice? He thought of Azariah’s frustration and shook his head. Other than turning a blind eye to it all, what else was there to do? But the simmering anger he felt confirmed what Tessanna had suggested. The people were nearing rebellion against their winged enforcers. Not there yet, not quite. So far there was too much acceptance mixed with the anger. They were upset by things they felt beyond their control. But once they felt they had a choice, once they believed they had the numbers and the power to make things different…

Tessanna sat in front of him at the table, startling him.

“I thought you were unwell,” he said.

Tessanna glanced about the common room, hunched down closer.

“I didn’t want to be alone anymore,” she said, her voice so soft he could barely hear her. “I did, but then I didn’t. Is the food worthwhile?”

Qurrah pushed her portion of the bread her way.

“The butter’s fresh at least,” he said.

She ate it, nibbling like she was a squirrel. Qurrah leaned closer and kept his voice down.

“The people are resentful of the angels,” he told her. “Simply put, they’re human, and they want to be human, with all that entails. So long as Azariah enforces his higher standard through law, they’re going to resent him.”

“Perhaps your brother can do something,” Tessanna suggested. “He’s steward now. Surely the angels will listen to him.”

“That’s if I can make him agree. He might not. Perhaps he’ll only view these complaints as nothing more than growing pains.”

“Or labor pains,” Tessanna said, glancing about. “Though whether child or monster will be born, I’m not sure even the gods know.”

Gervis’s overwhelming voice roared again.

“Aye, I heard! Crossed the bridge not too long ago. No one knows why.”

“His brother’s the steward. Maybe he’s hoping to get a cushy job.”

“A job wiping his brother’s ass, maybe,” Gervis laughed, and everyone laughed with him.

Qurrah’s fist curled tight as his whip writhed around his right arm.

“Behave,” Tessanna said, meeting his eye. “They know nothing of you, nothing of me.”

“Any of you ever seen that demon girl of his?” Gervis asked. “Firm tits, an ass you could bounce coins off of? Well, a man was talking to me just this other day, told me something I could hardly believe. He lived in Veldaren, was there when them people were attacked. Now everyone knows she was sleeping with that prophet, but this friend of mine was saying it went way further than that.”

He waited until people began pressuring for greater detail.

“How much further?” Gervis continued. “Well, he said she spent the whole damn day and night fucking those demons. Kept shouting it was her calling, like it was some sort of worship. Thousands of demons, I tell you, every single one of them, each hung like horses. If you ever meet Tessanna Delone, you’re meeting the absolute biggest whore in the history of Dezrel, and that’s something you should tip your hat in respect to.”

Qurrah’s fists slammed into the table. He lurched from his seat, his weight braced against the wood as if his fury overwhelmed his ability to stand. The commotion earned him several glances his way, and when they saw the fire curling off his hands, blackening the table, many hurried up from their seats toward the door.

“No fighting!” the barkeep shouted. “No magic, no swords!”

Qurrah felt his arms shaking as he stared down Gervis. The big oaf had turned his way, and he looked dumbfounded as to the reason for Qurrah’s glare.

“Something the matter, friend?” Gervis asked. His hand had fallen to the handle of his ax, which lay by his feet.

“You’re telling tales,” Qurrah said, feeling an icy calm come over him. “Telling lies.”

“Hey now, I’m only saying what I heard. If you have a problem with-”

He stopped, for Tessanna had stood as well, her face catching the light of the fire. If there was anything more recognizable than Qurrah’s orcish features, it was those solid black eyes and that long raven hair.

“But I do have a problem,” she said, sliding around the table and walking their way. Qurrah watched, his fingers tensed. The second something went wrong, he’d be ready with fire and shadows.

“This…this is a joke, right?” Gervis said, staring at her. “A trick?”

“No tricks,” Tessanna said, her voice almost seductive. “It’s me, Tessanna Delone, lover of the great traitor, Qurrah. Shouldn’t you tip your hat?”

Gervis paused, but he had no hat to tip, and he looked like a cornered, frightened animal. At the mention of Qurrah’s name his grip on the handle of his ax tightened, and around him several of the men backed away, their hands also reaching for weaponry. They were all keenly aware of him now, and the tension in the room increased tenfold.

“Do it,” Qurrah said, his raspy voice piercing the sudden quiet. “If you have no hat, then bow in respect.”

Tessanna stepped closer, closer, her hips swaying, her head tilted to one side, a soft smile on her lips.

“I like the sound of that,” she said, her dark eyes sweeping over them. “All of you. Kneel.”

From her back shot four long tendrils. They were thin, black, and looked like a sick mockery of butterfly wings. They curled around Gervis and the three men with him, pulling on their arms and sweeping out their feet to force them to the ground. Others in the tavern started, readying for a fight, but Qurrah pointed his fingers at them, his hands consumed by fire. His look was clear. The first to interfere would die horribly.

Tessanna slowly sank to her knees before Gervis, who was struggling against the black tendril hard enough to make his face swell red.

“Such a good storyteller,” she whispered, yet in the silence Qurrah could still hear her. “Such a funny man. But what do you know of me? Nothing. In your mind I am what you claim me to be.”

She slid closer, putting her lips inches away from his ear.

“So what do you want me to be? Do you want me to be your whore? Is that what you want?”

She lovingly rubbed his face, and her touch immediately ceased his struggling. His eyes were wide, and he looked so frightened he might pass out.

“But I’m not,” Tessanna whispered. “I’m not your whore. I’m not your joke. The prophet never touched me, do you understand? Never. Nor the demons, nor anyone else since I met my love. Find your laughs elsewhere, little man. Because if you don’t…”

She shifted to the side, then kissed his cheek. Her lips blackened his flesh, making it smoke as if she were branding him with a hot iron. He screamed, but her hand covered his mouth, her fingernails digging into his skin. After only a moment she pulled back, and his screaming ceased.

“If you don’t,” she said, and her eyes swept the tavern, “then I’ll fuck you like the whore you think I am. I’m fire, and we’ll see just how many of you burn.”

The tendrils released, retreating into her back. The men scattered, Gervis leading the way. Others watched, waiting to see if anything else would happen. Nothing did. Tessanna turned to Qurrah, and he saw the anger in her eyes slowly fading. The fire vanished from his hands and he rushed to her side.

“See we’re not disturbed,” he told the innkeeper, and based on the fear he saw in everyone’s eyes he didn’t think it too difficult a request.

Back in their room, Qurrah slammed the door shut, punched it with his fist.

“My brother the hero, the Godslayer, the steward,” Qurrah muttered. “And what are we? Traitors. Cowards. The great whores.”

He turned to see Tessanna sitting on the bed, her hands in her lap. She looked ashamed.

“I lied down there,” she said softly.

Qurrah frowned.

“Lied? About what?”

“About touching only you since I met you.”

Qurrah closed his eyes, told himself not do something stupid. She’d told him about Jerico and their single moment of weakness. Or had it been strength? It was something he never wanted to think about, to even remember having happened.

“You know I don’t blame you for it,” he said, putting his arms around her. “I’d put Velixar’s promises of power above you in my heart, and Jerico was there for comfort. I’m better than I was then. Right?”

She looked up at him, smiling despite her tears.

“So much better,” she said, kissing him.

He held her close.

“Don’t listen to what they say,” he said. “They’re ignorant fools.”

“But they hate us so much, and the stories they tell…they do it to make us less than what we were. Less human. More broken. We hurt them, and now they want to make us into monsters, demon-fucking monsters and heartless, slavering betrayers. But I don’t want to be that to them. I just want to be…me. But that will never happen, will it? Nothing I do will ever make them see me any other way.”

“That’s not true,” Qurrah said. “We could show them, we could help rebuild the world, help resolve their ire with the angels. It’s my fault for taking us away into hiding, for letting the stories grow unchecked. I’m sorry, Tess. I should have known better.”

She kissed his lips, then lay back on the bed.

“Qurrah?”

“Yes, Tess?”

She smiled sheepishly.

“I think I’m all right with using a disguise now, at least until we reach Harruq.”

Despite the exhaustion and stress of the day, Qurrah laughed.