The Prison of Angels

12

It wasn’t the stress the position put on her husband that upset Aurelia. She knew Harruq could withstand it, no matter how much he might complain otherwise. It wasn’t the responsibility, for she knew his decisions would be the right ones, regardless of his doubt. No, the thing that upset Aurelia most about Harruq’s role as steward was the sheer loneliness it brought about in her.

“Mommy, look!” Aubrienna called, pulling her from her thoughts. She sat on the edge of a fountain in one of the castle’s many gardens. Aubrienna and Gregory played on the far side. They’d been chasing each other with wooden weapons, Gregory wielding a sword, Aubby a wand, but the toys now lay in the grass. It seemed a new game had piqued their interests.

“Careful of thorns,” Aurelia told them, seeing they had begun picking flowers. Aubrienna was the one taking charge of things, as she often did. Aurelia watched as her daughter began putting the small daisies into Gregory’s hair, the little girl frowning every time they didn’t stick. Gregory mostly let her, trusting her implicitly. The sight put a smile on Aurelia’s face, and she wished Harruq could watch as Gregory finally grabbed a tulip and yanked it free so he could place it atop of Aubrienna’s head. Both giggled as it fell off, landing on the stone walkway.

“I’ll get it!” Aubrienna said, reaching down and then handing it to Gregory.

“Thanks,” Gregory said, beginning his second attempt to place the flower in her hair. “Now you stay still. Stay!”

Aurelia leaned her chin on her palm. Her husband’s long hours left her alone, for being at Harruq’s side when he made his judgments risked undermining his authority. It wasn’t as if the people of Mordeina mistrusted her, she knew that. If anything, she was beloved, more so than the actual queen. Current fashions in the city had already begun to mimic the dresses she wore, becoming more elven in style. Harruq’s popularity hadn’t waned either, but things had already grown uneasy. He needed to convince everyone from lords to beggars that he was competent enough to rule as steward. Too many knew of Susan’s involvement already. If the general populace realized how much of a puppet ruler Harruq actually was, it’d render everything they’d done pointless. His public dealings with the people were therefore of the utmost importance.

So she stayed with her daughter, letting Aubrienna’s light and happiness brighten her own dull existence in the city of humans as they passed the hours together until her husband fled the throne for their embrace.

“That’s enough,” Aurelia said, glancing up to see over a dozen flowers now uprooted and laying about. They both looked her way, frowns on their faces, and she realized how harshly she’d reprimanded them. She let out a sigh, berating herself for taking out her frustrations on the children. It simply wasn’t fair. Aubby missed her father just as much as she did.

“We were…we were just playing with the flowers,” Aubrienna said, as if explaining it would clear everything up.

Aurelia stood and wandered their way, smiling to show she wasn’t upset.

“It is all right,” she said. “But I don’t want you playing with the flowers anymore. The gardeners work very hard to make them grow so beautiful.”

Aubrienna looked around, as if unsure if she were in trouble or not. Gregory had no such need.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes to the ground. Whether necessary or not, he’d decided apologizing was a good way to head off a paddling. The castle servants were hesitant to lay a hand on the little kingling, but Aurelia had no such reservations. In her mind, the last thing Mordan needed was a brat for an heir, not that there was any real danger of that. Gregory was such a sweet child. It was Aubby who was the real troublemaker. Aurelia blamed Harruq for that, naturally.

“It’s all right,” she said, kneeling down before them so she might look them in the eye. “How about we go get something to eat, hrm? I bet Merelda has something nice brewing in the kitchen just for you two.”

The promise of sweets sparked their eyes alight, and Aurelia grinned. Perhaps a sweetcake might help her own mood.

She offered them her hands, then froze. It was as if she had suddenly gone blind, but not in her eyes. The sense of magic within her, the connection with the weave of her goddess that granted her power, vanished. Replacing it was a pulsing emptiness coupled with a vague feeling of unease. Without thinking she grabbed the arms of both children and yanked them to the ground while ducking her own head.

Two darts plinked into the stone beyond her, careened wildly before landing in the grass. Aurelia’s eyes widened as she stared at their sharpened points, the tips dripping with some sort of cloudy liquid.

“Stay down,” Aurelia whispered, fear and fury overwhelming her initial surprise.

There were two entrances to the garden, one on the east wall, one to the south. Aurelia had the children ducking behind a white marble ledge, its top decorated with dozens of potted flowers. They were on the far side, nearly equidistant from either entrance. She flexed her fingers, thinking to summon a portal to escape, but the magic didn’t come to her. It was as if she were underwater trying to gasp for breath.

Gregory began to cry, and Aubby’s face was scrunching up and turning red, frightened tears about to release from her as well. Aurelia lunged for the first thing she could use as a weapon: Gregory’s wooden sword. In her hands it was more of a dagger, but the wood was solid, and she peered over the ledge to scan for their would-be assassins. There were three of them, one at each door plus a third rushing through the garden, two glinting daggers in hand. All three were dressed in the strangest garb, their clothes a mixture of reds and grays. Their faces were covered with a dark gray cloth, revealing only their eyes and hair.

The one at the door to her right caught her looking and flung another dart. Aurelia ducked, her heart pounding as panic threatened to overwhelm her-not for herself, but for Gregory and Aubrienna. If only she had her magic. She had her training with Harruq from their sparring years ago, instilling moderate ability to defend herself with her staff. But against skilled assassins, wielding only a child’s toy, what chance did she have?

Preparing herself for the end, she swept her eyes over the two children, and as she did she caught sight of a strange spherical object not far away from her, lying in the grass. Its surface was made of obsidian, and it was heavily cracked. From those cracks pulsed a rainbow of colors, almost like a heartbeat. Without thinking, without daring to fear for her safety, she lunged out into the open for it. The nearest assassin was almost upon her, and in response to her unexpected motion the man twisted, kicked off the ledge she’d hidden behind, and continued after her. Aurelia spun in air, lashing out with the wooden sword. It clipped the man’s thrust, shoving it harmlessly aside.

When she landed she grabbed the sphere, surprised to discover how light it was. With all her strength she hurled it toward the nearest doorway, then rolled. Daggers thudded into the grass. Coming out of her roll, she let out a gasp. With the object’s removal she felt her magic returning into her like floodwaters rushing through a broken dam. Feeling more alert, more whole, she bared her teeth and stretched out her hands toward the leaping assassin. Lightning shot from her fingers, crackling with energy. The hit halted him in midair, spinning his upper body backward. When he landed she struck him again, the electricity arcing about his body.

“Close your eyes!” Aurelia screamed at the children. Gregory would see nothing, what with his fists pressed against his face, but Aubrienna had been watching even as she cried. Praying her daughter would listen, Aurelia stood, summoning an invisible energy shield to block any more darts the assassins might throw. But the two men at the doors apparently had new tricks in mind.

A ball of fire burned through the air, aimed straight for Aurelia’s chest. It struck her shield and detonated, swirling outward in a thin line, consuming the nearby plants and blackening the vases. Aurelia managed to duck beneath the flames just in time, only to see the other assassin outstretch his hand. Twin glowing orbs arced out, veering over her cover and slamming through her shield with ease. She let out a cry as they struck her chest. The pain was intense, and she fell back to the ground. Writhing, she bit her tongue in an attempt to focus. The two orbs had caused no physical damage. They were just trying to keep her down long enough to finish her.

The bite to her tongue didn’t work, but hearing the two children crying did. The fools wanted a sorcerer’s duel? Then so be it. She’d faced an enraged Tessanna, stood toe-to-toe against the prophet. These assassins? They had picked the wrong target.

Shoving herself to her feet, she raised her hands and summoned the most powerful protection spells she knew. Fire and ice crashed against her shields, burning more plants and spreading frost along the ground, but nothing could penetrate. Aurelia’s fingers danced, and she allowed herself a smile.

“You want fire?” she asked. “Then have it.”

A great stream burst from her gathered palms, belching out as if from the belly of a dragon. It filled the doorway, easily overwhelming the man’s attempt at a magical shield. When it subsided, his body was but blackened ash. Turning to the other, she saw him fleeing.

“Not so fast,” she said through clenched teeth, summoning a swirling blue portal. Its location wasn’t far. Stepping through, she reemerged at the end of the hallway the final assassin had attempted to flee down. He skidded to a halt, his eyes widening behind his mask. Aurelia gave him no time to react. Unleashing all her fury, she tore bricks free from each side of the castle walls and then slammed them together. She heard the assassin’s bones snap, saw his skull crunch inward. His body dropped to the floor like a rag doll, and it was only then Aurelia felt she could breathe.

She ran back to the garden, pausing only momentarily at the door. Two guards lay slumped outside the entrance, thin darts protruding out from their necks. Aurelia passed them by, holding in a shudder. Checking the other exit, she found two more dead guards. The waste of life infuriated her as much as it frightened her with the implications.

“Mommy!”

Aurelia turned, felt her heart break upon seeing Aubrienna rush out from cover and run toward her. Her cheeks and neck were red, her face a mess of snot and tears. Aurelia scooped her into her arms, then went to Gregory. She set her daughter down, wrapped them both in her arms, and tried to calm them.

“Hold your ears now,” she said, pulling them closer to her chest. Turning her head toward one of the doors, she gathered magic into her voice.

“Guards!”

The sound must have echoed throughout half the castle, for within a minute, dozens came rushing in, cursing at the sight of their dead brethren.

“Take them to Harruq, and make sure they don’t leave his side,” she said to the man in charge. “I don’t care how disruptive they are, they don’t leave. Is that clear?”

“Understood,” the soldier said, scooping Gregory up into his arms. Another pulled off his mailed glove and offered a hand to Aubrienna.

“Mommy, don’t go,” she begged. She had started to calm down, but was only the slightest push away from breaking again.

“I’m sorry sweetie,” Aurelia said, kissing her forehead. “Go to daddy. Mommy has people she needs to see.”

She sniffled but managed to keep herself together. Aurelia felt guilt watching them go, but she shoved the feeling away. Now was not the time. As squads of soldiers spread out to scan the castle for any more intrusions, or at least discover how the assassins gained entrance in the first place, Aurelia opened a portal to her and Harruq’s room. From there she grabbed her staff, one of her few cherished possessions she still had from their flight from Veldaren. Leaping back through the portal into the garden, she approached the rainbow sphere that had given her so much trouble. The closer she stepped to it the more she felt her magic fading, until when it was at her feet she was powerless once more.

With a satisfying crack, she smashed it with the butt of her staff. The sphere broke easily, letting out a great puff of smoke and color as it did. Scooping up the surprisingly cool shards, she closed her eyes to create another portal. The masks the assassins wore were familiar, and that they wielded magic made them doubly rare. But there was one man she knew that matched both qualities, a man that might either be behind the attack, or know who was responsible.

Through the portal she stepped, still holding the shards. When she exited, she was on a distant street in the trade district of Mordeina. The men and women passing by turned to gawk, and for once Aurelia wished she might fit in a little better. No time for a disguise, though, so she hurried to the tavern she’d been told to go to if she ever sought to make contact. It wasn’t the tavern itself she needed, though, but the dark alley beside it. A child sat there on a crate, looking bored. His hair was disheveled, his face dirty, but there was something of an act to his appearance. The alertness of his eyes, the healthiness of his skin, belied the supposed starvation of a street rat.

“Hello,” Aurelia said to the boy.

“Don’t feel like talking,” was his response.

“I fear I’m not as wise as I thought,” she said, as instructed. “Might you help me?”

The boy stared at her, then gave a curt nod.

“Wait here.”

Aurelia stepped into the alley, holding her staff in one hand, the shards in the other. Several minutes passed, but at least she was out of clear sight of the traffic.

“Bored of your life in the castle?” asked a woman’s voice from above.

Aurelia glanced up to see Veliana peering down from the rooftop of the tavern, a smirk lighting up her lone good eye. She wore the colors of her new guild, dark gray shirt and cloak with black sleeves and pants. In her left hand she twirled a dagger, her fingers dancing.

“I’d prefer the boredom over today,” she said. “Where’s your guildmaster?”

“Right here,” Deathmask said, stepping out of the alley’s shadows, his arms crossed behind his back. His long dark hair curled down around his neck. A gray mask covered his mouth and nose, but his eyes were sparkling with humor. “Ah, Aurelia, how good it is to see you again. Your beauty is as stunning as ever. Such a shame you waste it on that oaf of a half-orc you call a husband.”

“I’m in no mood,” Aurelia said, tossing the shards at his feet. “Someone tried to kill me and my daughter, and Antonil’s son as well. I want to know why.”

Deathmask lifted an eyebrow.

“Interesting. And you think I have the answer why?”

“All three assassins wore masks similar to yours.”

“Hardly unique to cover one’s face.”

Aurelia crossed her arms, reminding herself not to take her frustration out on the wily rogue, despite how much she wanted to roast him down to ash so he’d match the name of his guild.

“They were also proficient with magic,” she said. “Only one guild in Mordeina has members with any magical training that I know of: yours. And if it wasn’t you, then you of all men should know who it was. No one has a better finger on the pulse of the underworld than you.”

“No one since the days of the Watcher,” Veliana said, laying on her back and continuing to twirl her dagger. “By the way, should I mention how stupid it’d be of you to come here if you actually thought we were guilty of the attack? But you’re not that stupid, which means you don’t think we were responsible. So please, lay off the demands, and keep the shallow reasoning to yourself, hrm?”

Fire swarmed around Aurelia’s right hand.

“Easy now,” Deathmask said. “I’d rather not have anyone die. No profit in it. Aurelia, when you arrived you oh-so-politely tossed something at my feet. Care to tell me what it was?”

“It was a sphere before I smashed it,” Aurelia said, turning her attention back to Deathmask. Her fist clenched, removing the fire. “The assassins threw it at me just before they attacked. Somehow it created a hole in the world’s magical weave, preventing me from casting any spells.”

Finally she saw a bit of interest spark in Deathmask’s eyes.

“Really now?” he asked, kneeling down and picking up one of the shards. “Interesting…”

“So please, what can you tell me? They wore gray and red, and all were light of skin if that helps.”

“So they even dress similar to me now? How interesting. Are you sure I’m not the man responsible for the attacks? Enough coin and even I might rethink my allegiances. Angels do tend to make life as a rogue difficult.”

“We went through too much together for you to turn on us without a chance to rectify things first,” Aurelia said.

Deathmask laughed.

“Sentimentality? I think you confuse me for someone else, elf. No, the proof you need to know I wasn’t behind this is much simpler. If it had been my guild making the attempt, you wouldn’t be out hunting for the party responsible. You’d be dead.”

He tossed the sphere shard back to the ground.

“What he threw at you is known as a voidsphere. Rare, but not impossible to craft if you know what you’re doing. As for these assassins…no, I cannot tell you who might have hired them, nor the name of their organization. If any other guild started showing an affinity toward spellcasters, I assure you, I’d know about it. I’m sorry, but if you need answers, you’ll have to look elsewhere.”

There was no hiding Aurelia’s disappointment. She clutched her staff and took a deep breath. The city wasn’t big enough for a new guild with such power at their disposal to go unnoticed for long. Someone had to know.

“Please,” she said. “If you learn anything, find me or my husband.”

“I will,” Deathmask said, winking. “If the profit’s right.”

Aurelia turned, ripped open a portal, and vanished.

Veliana watched the elf disappear into the swirling blue, then leapt down from her perch atop the tavern.

“You lied,” she said.

Deathmask shrugged.

“I do that from time to time.”

Veliana knelt before the shards of the voidsphere, scanning over the intricate detail required to carve the magic into its surface.

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“Games,” Deathmask said, leaning against the wall. “People are playing games, and no matter what happens, we will benefit. Nothing can be worse than the way things are now.”

“And if they kill Gregory?”

“Do I look like a man who will shed a tear?”

He was grinning, she could tell by the way his cheeks pulled upward at his mask.

“You look like a heartless bastard,” she said, standing.

“You’re making me blush. But no, Vel, until we know everyone’s aims, we keep our mouths shut and our eyes open. Can you do that?”

“I can,” she said. “But you still could have told them who was responsible. That alone would have been worth a princely reward.”

“And ruin all this fun?” he asked, scattering the shards with his foot as he walked toward the street. “I dare say, Veliana, it’s like you don’t even know me anymore.”