The Prison of Angels

14

“This isn’t necessary.”

The queen paced back and forth before Harruq, who slumped in Antonil’s throne.

“It is,” he insisted. “You have to know that.”

“You’re going on assumptions based on learning nothing from a dead man,” Susan said. “Forgive me for not being impressed.”

“Not trying to impress you, only discover who tried to kill your son. These weren’t normal assassins. They weren’t even unusual assassins. These were expensive, dangerous, rare men that until today none of us knew existed. So before three more of them try to slice out my wife’s throat and cook her with a fireball, I’d like to do whatever I can to find out who hired them. That sound fair to you?”

Harruq knew he was crossing the line, but he didn’t care. His family was in danger because of this stupid role he’d accepted, so if he was going to withstand the risks, by the gods he was going to at least take advantage of the power. Those soldiers who remained had been sent out into the city, with orders to apprehend and bring in Lord Maryll for questioning. Harruq waited for him in the throne room, swords lying across his lap. He’d been sheathing and unsheathing them for the past ten minutes, desperately wishing he could plunge one of them into heart of whoever tried to kill his precious Aubby.

And his gut said that person was about to stand before him in the next few minutes.

“Let me talk to him,” Susan said. “He listens to me, trusts me. If you start asking him questions, he’ll think you’re accusing him, and…”

“I am accusing him,” Harruq said.

“Without proof? Without reason?”

“You know damn well we have reason. He hates your husband with a passion. Not much of a stretch to carry that over to his son.”

“He’s my brother,” Susan said. “He’s family, and nothing has ever been as important to Kevin as family.”

“Me too,” Harruq grumbled. “And that’s why he’s coming in for a talk.”

The queen threw up her hands, stopped her pacing.

“I could override you,” she said.

Harruq nodded.

“You could. And if you do, this whole charade is over. I’ll step down as steward, grab Aurelia and Aubrienna, and high-tail it to the far ends of Dezrel. And you know what, your highness? I’m really, really hoping you override me right now.”

Susan fell silent, and she respectfully dipped her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I will not undermine my husband in such a way, nor make him seem a fool. Question my brother, but do not harm him unless you have proof. Will you at least grant me that request?”

“Fair enough.”

She stared at him, and he wished he had enough skill at reading people to understand the thoughts racing behind that stare. At last she curtseyed and hurried out of the room, leaving Harruq alone but for a few of his most trusted guards, who lurked behind various pillars and curtains. Kevin was one man, and so long as Harruq held his swords, he wasn’t afraid. The others had wanted to be there with him, but Harruq had rightly guessed Susan’s response to that. Already they treaded on thin ice. It’d do no good to toss in more weight.

Minutes passed at an interminable pace. When the doors finally cracked open, and Kevin Maryll stepped inside, Harruq almost felt happy. Almost. The desire to draw one of his swords was still the stronger impulse.

“Harruq!” Kevin shouted, hurrying down the carpeted hall. “Where’s Susan? Where’s Gregory? Are they all right?”

“They’re fine,” Harruq said, shifting in his seat. The handle of Condemnation was cold in his palm. It took every shred of his self-control to keep the blade sheathed.

“They are?” His relief appeared genuine. Harruq kept telling himself it was an act to keep his rage high. “The guards would only tell me there was an attempt on her life. They wouldn’t say anything else. Did you capture the men responsible?”

“I don’t know,” Harruq said. He shifted again. Kevin was so close, now. Just a few steps and a thrust and he’d be dead. Not that he was imagining doing that repeatedly, of course. “I was thinking bringing you here was a first step to that.”

Kevin froze in his tracks.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Those assassins were hired by someone wealthy, someone with many connections. Someone who might want King Antonil’s son dead. And perhaps it’s just me, but haven’t you been out firing up crowds and spreading hatred against Antonil? Or should I say, the Missing King?”

Aurelia would have told him it was tactless, but Harruq was too amused by the shock in Kevin’s eyes at such a blunt accusation to care.

“You bastard,” Kevin said, his voice rising. “This is my sister you’re talking about, my nephew! You think I’d want them dead because of my frustrations with Antonil and his angels?”

“The thought occurred to me,” Harruq said. He stood, wanting to intimidate Kevin with his height and size. Kevin, however, seemed far from intimidated. He looked furious.

“When Antonil reclaimed Mordeina, his rule was tenuous at best. Many lords wanted to break up the nation, with the angels as the sole unifier among the various territories instead of a king. I’m the one who prevented that. Regardless of all he accomplished, Antonil was just a lowly soldier, without a hint of noble blood in him. Susan gave him that. She gave him legitimacy, she gave him a son. She became the queen he needed so others would view him as king. And all the while I whispered in the ears of other lords, telling them we needed a king, we needed a ruler.”

Harruq shifted uncomfortably, feeling a bit of his righteous fury dwindling down, becoming more petulant and uncertain. Still, he had to continue. He had to know for certain.

“You act as if you gained nothing,” he said. “Your sister’s rise in power only increased your own. And because of that, you’re now safe to rally men around you, spouting out hate and ignorance.”

Kevin’s eyes widened.

“Do you know why I rally those people in the streets?” he asked Harruq. “I do it to protect Susan and her son. My blood will become the blood of kings. My sister a queen, my nephew the first of Mordan’s new generation of rulers. But every single bit of that is in danger so long as priests and angels lord over us, bringing us their rules, handing out their law with impunity.”

Kevin spat at Harruq’s feet.

“You think you know me, you think you understand why I do these things. You’re a damn fool, half-orc. Look to the heavens, and for once, open your eyes. In my heart I do not believe my nephew will ever be king. How long until a man with wings sits on that throne? And what will we do then? What will we lowly, simple humans do?”

Harruq was caught off guard by his sincerity, his ferocity. Was it possible he was uninvolved? Looking back at it, it did seem a slight stretch. If Kevin had problems with Antonil and the angels, wouldn’t it make more sense that he strike at them instead? Despite all his annoyances, he’d never shown any hostility toward his sister.

Thinking of the angels reminded him of similar matters he’d been delaying bringing up, but with Susan absent, there was really no better time.

“You have to stop these rallies,” Harruq said. “The city’s already in unrest because of the army’s departure, and you’re just making it worse.”

“Oftentimes things must get worse before getting better,” Kevin argued.

“Riots will begin any day now,” Harruq said. “People will die. This needs to stop.”

“Then stop it!” Kevin gestured wildly. “I only give voice and reason to their unrest. I only allow them to see the reason for their anger. Do you think Mordeina is the only place turning against this oppression? The countryside is worse, so much worse, and yet I’m not there to stir it up. For five years now the angels have dealt death and spared lives, all without a single care for the desires of mortal men.”

“Then what do you want me to do about it?” Harruq asked. “How in the fires of the Abyss am I supposed to stop it?”

Kevin calmed down a bit, becoming more earnest, more businesslike.

“At the start of the month I sent riders to all four corners of Mordan,” he said. “Every single settlement has already received my request. I’m calling in elders, spokesmen, anyone who can come and speak for the people of their respective towns. It shouldn’t be long before the first of them arrives.”

“Why? What do you think this will accomplish?”

“We live under the rule of angels who supposedly follow a god,” Kevin said. “A god that none of us can hear, a god whose own priests say now slumbers after the war. Yet we are powerless before their rule. Some men live, and others die, and there is no consistency, no justice. Murderers and rapists should be strung up to hang, yet many find themselves forgiven, only to repeat their crimes months later. We need a voice. We need a say in these things. I’m summoning them all to hold a council. I want the angels to hear the concerns of those they rule over. I want them to admit they aren’t gods, to open their eyes and realize that we do not serve them. They serve us.”

There was some wisdom to the idea, Harruq had to admit that. And over the past several days he’d been hearing of the growing unrest, especially over a supposed attack in a village that no one could identify for certain despite his best efforts. If this council might prevent riots, it’d be worthwhile. And the representatives were already on their way…

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Make the angels attend. Make them promise to listen, and convene a vote on the requests our people give. And if not…” Kevin gestured to the throne. “You are steward of the kingdom, ruler over the men therein. If the angels will not answer to you, then what is the purpose of having a king?”

“I’ll talk to Ahaesarus,” Harruq said. “I can’t promise their cooperation, but if this will help, then I’m willing to try. But in return, you need to calm the people instead of inflaming them. You’re getting what you want, so give me what I want, or I’ll send troops to arrest you in the street no matter what Susan thinks.”

“Your eloquence knows no bounds,” Kevin said, bowing. “Tell the angels to convene the council a week from tomorrow. That should be enough time for everyone to arrive. Now if I might have my leave, I’d like to check on my family.”

The lord turned and marched to the side of the throne, into the darker recesses of the pillars.

“Oh, Kevin,” Harruq said, unable to help himself. “There is one way to prove to me your innocence. Stand before an angel. Swear to him you had nothing to do with the assassination attempt, and let him judge whether you speak truth or lie.”

Kevin looked over his shoulder as he stopped before the door leading deeper into the castle. Instead of the anger he expected, the man only laughed.

“You’re such a fool,” he said. “A damn, stupid fool in so far over your head you haven’t a hope to avoid drowning. The angels aren’t your savior, Harruq. They’re your executioner. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Harruq had only impotent rage to offer in return.

Qurrah was not much for putting off uncomfortable things, so when they’d been assigned their room in the castle, and Tessanna slumbered restlessly from their journey, he left her there and sought out Harruq’s room. To his mild surprise, two guards stood before the door, and they tensed at his arrival.

“I only wish to ask my brother a question,” he told them.

One of the guards rapped on the door. After hearing it unlock from within, the door popped open, and Harruq’s face peered out. Seeing Qurrah, he grunted and opened it the rest of the way, revealing him standing there with only a loose bed robe wrapped around his muscular body.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” Qurrah said. He glanced at the guards, then decided there was nothing too unusual about his request. He’d still be honoring Azariah’s desire for privacy.

“How does one get to Avlimar?” he asked.

Harruq raised an eyebrow.

“With wings. Care to explain?”

“I’d rather not.”

Harruq shrugged.

“Wait here.”

He shut the door, returning less than a minute later. In his hands was a golden scepter. Its length was about half his arm, and at the very top was a silver stone barely larger than a man’s pinkie.

“Get into open space, hold it aloft, and then speak the name Ashhur,” Harruq explained as he handed it over. “Someone will come find you, I promise. After that, it’s up to you to convince them to give you a lift.”

“I’ll return this before the night’s over,” Qurrah promised, holding the scepter against his chest. It was surprisingly warm, and he detected an aura of magic about it. Harruq yawned, waved him away.

“Return it in the morning,” he said, shutting the door.

Qurrah chuckled, caught the guards looking at him. He shot one a wink, then hurried away. After two tries, he managed to find his way out of the castle, stepping out into the courtyard surrounding the structure atop the great hill it’d been built upon. The night sky was heavily clouded. Only Avlimar was visible, just a distant gold star. In that darkness, Qurrah held the scepter above his head, noting it much heavier than it should have been. Steadying it with both hands, he whispered the command word.

“Ashhur.”

He squinted his eyes, expecting some sort of bright flash or signal. Instead, the silver stone began to glow softly, its golden light soothing to look upon. It pulsed once, twice, and then into the sky shone a great pillar, piercing the clouds so that its light pushed on through the slowly forming gap. Qurrah’s mouth dropped open, impressed. Its color was like that of Lathaar’s sword, or Jerico’s shield, a strong blue-white, vibrant with energy. In the center of the beam, soft smoke curled and rose, vanishing the moment it left the beam. The light spread nowhere beyond the beam, not even brightening his hands as they held the scepter. Given its distinct brightness and color, he had no doubt it could be seen for miles and miles even during the day.

In less than a minute he heard the sound of flapping wings. An angel landed before him, one of their warriors, his body clad in armor and a spear strapped to his back.

“I am Loen, and I bring to you the blessings of Ashhur,” the angel said. “I saw the signal in the sky and have come. What matter requires my aid?”

“My name is Qurrah Tun,” he said, bowing his head in respect. “I seek permission to travel to Avlimar and speak with Azariah.”

A look of curiosity passed over Loen’s face and quickly vanished.

“I remember you,” Loen said. “You were of much interest after the trial to decide your fate. You look healthier, now. More alive.”

Qurrah felt mildly embarrassed thinking of the trial, when he’d been ready to accept death at the angels’ hands. Only Harruq had stopped them by demanding whatever fate be given to Qurrah also be given to him. The idea of killing his brother while trying to atone for his own sins…Qurrah couldn’t do it. His brother’s selflessness had been the only reason he’d lived, and that’s what shamed him. At the time, Tessanna had been alone with that monster Velixar and Thulos’s legion of demons. Qurrah had been willing to give up even her, had twice tried to make his brother end his life so he might not feel guilt or anguish.

Such weakness. Such childishness.

“I’m a better man now than I was,” he told Loen. “Perhaps that is all you see?”

“Perhaps. Azariah is in his study. If you do not mind waiting outside it, I will see if he accepts your company.”

“Thank you,” Qurrah said, bowing his head again. “How will I arrive?”

The angel took the scepter from Qurrah and then tucked it into the same loops that held his spear.

“Do not fear falling,” he said. “But if you are afraid, I suggest closing your eyes and not looking down.”

Qurrah smirked as the angel flapped his wings several times, lifting them into the air. He’d stepped into the chaos that was Tessanna’s mind and seen the nightmares of her past; heights weren’t going to frighten him. Wrapped in the angel’s arms, he felt plenty secure. The wind whipped against his face, and he had to squint his eyes to see. The city of Mordeina shrank below him, and high above, the shining star that was Avlimar grew closer and closer.

The strangest sight was the floating rock beneath it all, as if the pull of the world meant nothing on the parcel of land broken and hurled free from the Golden Eternity. It looked brown and compacted, like any other earth, but it supported the great weight of the structure built atop it. Every precious metal was crafted into spires, towers, slender homes and broad bridges. Some buildings were gold, others silver. To his surprise, there were many gardens, their vibrant colors easy to see despite the night. Avlimar was always lit, no darkness allowed within. Copious amounts of torches lined the buildings, and it seemed the very gold of the streets hummed with ethereal brightness. In that light, the green of trees somehow complemented the extravagant colors, adding life and color to the otherwise overwhelming metal beauty.

There were many flat segments of street at the edge of the floating city, and they landed on one of them. Qurrah staggered momentarily when released from Loen’s grip, then quickly steadied himself. There was something unusual about standing there, almost like being upon a boat despite no discernible rocking or motion.

“Have you been to Avlimar before?” Loen asked him.

Qurrah remembered arriving as an undead monstrosity, pulled along by Velixar’s commands as war demons surged through the windows and towers, battling angels by the thousands.

“Only once,” Qurrah said.

“Follow me, then,” Loen said. He walked down the street, which slowly narrowed the farther from the edge they traveled. Qurrah marveled at the architecture. It seemed everything was ornamented to an absurd extent. Walls were decorated with intricate carvings, paintings, even sculptures cut into their sides. Pausing at one, he looked at a bewildering collection of overlapped concentric circles, making it seem like the doorway of the home were the center of a great vortex of lines and motion. It had to have taken hundreds of hours to carve, Qurrah thought. Of course, in a land of no ruin and death, time for even the most trivial things could be afforded…

“This way,” Loen said, breaking his line of thought. “Azariah rarely stays in Avlimar for long, and I would be remiss if tardiness kept you from meeting him.”

“Of course,” Qurrah said as his fingers traced along the lines. “Perhaps another time I can explore.”

It was to the very tallest of towers that Loen took him, located not far from the center of the city. Along the way, Qurrah was surprised by how few angels he spotted. The creatures did not sleep like regular mortals, so he saw no reason for the silence, yet it was there all the same.

“Why is the city so empty?” he asked as they approached the great spire, which rose like a sharp-peaked mountain, except instead of snowy peaks it was decorated with marble and pearl.

“The harvest is great, the workers few,” Loen said. “We are scattered throughout the land, and with our aid, many new towns have sprouted in the far north. But soon Avlimar will be filled with angels to vote in the coming council.”

“Council?” Qurrah asked.

“Did your brother tell you nothing of it?”

“No, he did not.”

“A meeting with human elders,” Loen said, pulling open the golden doors to Azariah’s spire. “To hear their concerns, and allow them to open their hearts to us so we might learn how to better serve them.”

Interesting, thought Qurrah. Was that a result of his meeting with Kevin? Seemed a bit opposite of the intended result, that being Kevin hanging from a gibbet.

“Wait here,” Loen said.

The angel stepped through the door, which was oversized to accommodate his wings. All of the doors and walkways were large like that, making Qurrah, who had grown up thin and sickly, feel all the smaller. Staring up at the spire, Qurrah admired the craftsmanship it took to build it. For some reason, it had a newness to it the rest of the city did not. Perhaps it was the height, or maybe because it was the lone building he’d seen so far that possessed a pointed rooftop instead of a flat one.

“Qurrah?”

Azariah stepped out of the door, followed by Loen.

“I’d have words with you,” the half-orc said, falling to one knee.

“Of course,” Azariah said. “All are welcome here. If we might have time alone, my dear Loen. My guest and I will require privacy for him to speak his troubled heart, but do not go far. He will need you to return home.”

Qurrah held back a chuckle. So his troubled heart would be the excuse to hide his lessons at magic? Oh well. Whatever worked.

When Loen was gone, Azariah gestured for Qurrah to step inside. As the door shut, Qurrah’s eyes needed a moment to adjust. Azariah’s spire was bright even by Avlimar’s standards. Light shone not from torches but instead various gems, crystals, chandeliers, even candles carved of marble with no visible wick. It all spoke of magic. Amused, Qurrah wondered if Azariah had lost his clerical abilities because he wasted them on something a simple torch and wax candle could accomplish.

“You should have requested my presence,” Azariah said, gesturing for Qurrah to take a seat. The chair was large, the cushions overstuffed with feathers. There was an ornate fireplace before it, and in the hearth burned a fire that gave off heat yet appeared to have no effect on the log within. The carpet was thick, a deep crimson that was easy on the eyes, a welcome respite after all the shining metals. Kicking off his sandals, Qurrah slumped in the chair (which was, of course, far too big for him) and let his bare feet sink into the carpet.

“If I’d known teaching you magic would have such comforts, I’d have agreed far more readily,” he said, closing his eyes as the heat from the fire washed over him.

“Such tutelage will no longer be necessary,” Azariah said.

Qurrah’s eyes snapped open, and he peered around the chair. The angel remained standing beside the stairs leading higher up into the spire. All around him were paintings of forests, of which Qurrah had no doubt Azariah had both been to, and painted himself.

“Is that so?” he said, trying to hide his surprise. “You seemed rather insistent when we last met.”

“I’m sure I did.”

Qurrah frowned, and he pushed himself out of the chair.

“I came to Mordeina at your request,” he said. “And maybe it is just me, but it’s a bit rude to request someone’s help, then turn them down when they arrive to offer it. Now, I wouldn’t claim myself as brilliant in the ways of Ashhur as you, so perhaps you can answer the question for me…is rudeness a sin?”

“Your wit and sarcasm are both unnecessary and unappreciated,” Azariah said, crossing his arms.

“Then care to tell me why you changed your mind?”

The angel looked to the side, and he seemed confused, almost frustrated.

“My decision should not reflect poorly on you or Tessanna,” he said at last. “My coming to you…that was not wise. If my power from Ashhur is waning, then I should accept that as reality, and not try to hide it. Unfortunately I came to you in pride, seeking to remain the most powerful of angels. I’m sorry to waste your time, Qurrah.”

It didn’t make sense, no matter how many times Qurrah ran the words through his mind.

“You said you came to me in humility,” the half-orc insisted. “Now you say it is pride?”

“I wanted secret training to avoid the mockery of mortal men,” Azariah said. “That is pride. I wanted power to replace the power I lost. That is pride. I cannot do this for such a reason. I cannot let my pride control my actions. I thank you for coming, Qurrah, but perhaps humility is what I need to learn now.”

“So you’re accepting the loss of your clerical magic?”

Azariah sighed.

“Accepting it? Yes. I will not lie and say I am pleased. I will not pretend I do not miss it, nor act like I do not wish it returned. But I won’t have you as a teacher, Qurrah, nor your lover. This is a decision I made on my flight home, one I cannot fully explain. I hope you understand.”

Qurrah didn’t, but then again, he was trying to understand an angel. It seemed that, while on the outside they seemed simple and predictable, the truth of them was anything but.

“Very well,” he said. “We will remain here for a time longer, at least until I’m certain of my brother’s safety. If you change your mind, let me know.”

“I assure you, Qurrah,” Azariah said. “I won’t.”

Something about his tone of voice was strikingly cold. Azariah opened the door, and when Qurrah stepped out, he called for Loen. The angel landed moments later, having spent the time hovering above the spire in a lazy circle.

“Return my friend to the castle,” Azariah said. “I have much studying to do in preparation for the convening council, and cannot afford the time.”

“I would be happy to,” Loen said, turning to Qurrah. “Are you ready?”

Qurrah nodded.

“The night is late. Yes, please take me home.”

Once more they walked through the city to the very edge before Loen wrapped his arms around him and beat his wings.

“I must warn you,” Loen said. “The trip down is far more intense than the trip up.”

At first Qurrah thought it an exaggeration, but as they plummeted off the edge in free fall he changed his mind. Perhaps there were a few things left that might frighten him. Several times he glanced at the angel’s outstretched wings, having to remind himself that yes, they could indeed support their weight. As the city neared, Loen banked upward, stealing much of their speed so that during a second descent they came in much slower toward the castle. With surprising gentleness Loen pulled up at the last moment, setting Qurrah’s feet on the ground without the slightest difficulty.

“Many thanks for being my guide,” Qurrah said, turning to face the angel.

“Perhaps when you are not so tired, and the hour not so late, I can better show you the artwork and structures.”

“I would very much like the chance.”

Loen saluted. Before taking flight, he placed a hand on Qurrah’s shoulder.

“I once doubted your worth, even after the trial,” he said. “But I heard of your stand on Ashhur’s Bridge. And when you killed Karak’s prophet, a great evil left this land. It was like a thorn pulled from all our minds. You have done great things, and I would thank you before I leave.”

The admiration left him stunned. He’d gotten used to his accomplishments being overlooked, or remaining completely unknown.

“What little good I’ve done, I did not do alone,” Qurrah said, feeling his neck flush. “But I accept your thanks nonetheless.”

Loen took to the air, slowly fading away into the clouds as he soared toward Avlimar. His heart troubled, Qurrah stared at the glowing city, like a great star in the night, and wondered.