The Prison of Angels

20

They alternated turns summoning the shadow portals to take them south. Through it all Qurrah remained silent, his nerves never calming despite the fact they crept closer to Ker’s border each passing moment. What did a border matter to men with wings?

“An acceptable loss,” he murmured as they camped that night. “Acceptable. Ashhur help us all.”

Tessanna glanced at him, and he saw the question in her eyes. He shook his head, still not wanting to talk about it. More than anything he felt such an immense betrayal at the words he had heard. When he’d expected death, when he’d deserved it, they’d denied it to him. They’d declared him forgiven. Ever since then, he’d felt changed. He’d tried, in his own meager way, to better understand the mercy and grace Ashhur’s priests had preached. Oh, he often felt he failed to live up to it, but the concept had been there, giving him hope, giving him a glimpse of a future where he could sleep without the weight of a thousand corpses on his conscience. More than anything, he carried hope that it would not be Karak’s arms he went to upon his death. He would not spend eternity in a darkness lit only by Velixar’s glowing red eyes.

And now, when he sought only to help, only to repair, he instead found the angels ready to give him the death they’d declared him free of all those years ago.

“We’re not going to be safe,” Tessanna said, absently tossing kindling onto their fire. “Azariah knows where we live.”

“You think they will come hunting for us?”

Tess shrugged.

“I don’t know. You won’t tell me everything, so I must guess. But something’s wrong, I know that. Mordeina should have felt peaceful, but instead it felt…”

She shook her head, struggling for the right words.

“Like everyone was holding their breath,” Qurrah said.

“Yes, like that. Like everyone must keep one eye on the sky.”

Qurrah thought of the paladins who’d fought in Ashhur’s name, now secluded in their Citadel. What would Jerico think if he walked through those streets? What would he have said if he’d stood there in the middle of the angels’ council and saw them nodding as simple farmers asked for the death of their fellow man?

“If they come for us, you’re right,” he said. “Our home isn’t safe.”

“Then where is?”

Qurrah remembered King Bram’s words when they’d last spoken at the bridge, when Antonil’s army had come marching.

“We first refused to stand by Bram’s side and condemn the angels,” he said. “I think I might be changing my mind…”

Qurrah had never been to the city of Angkar, and now that he had, he wasn’t impressed. Its walls were tall, but Veldaren’s had been taller, and Mordeina had multiple walls built close together to form brutal killing lanes. There were no special defenses, no significant battlements. No, the only thing that impressed Qurrah about the seaport was that it had escaped the Gods’ War so thoroughly unscathed. When other countries and cities had fallen, it had thrived, which spoke to the careful manipulation of its ruler, King Bram Henley.

“The walls will mean nothing to men with wings,” Tessanna said, taking in the city beside him from the worn road leading to the main gates.

“It’s not the walls,” Qurrah said. “It’s who owns them. If we’re under Bram’s protection, and angels come for us, it’d mean war. Harruq won’t let that happen.”

“What if he doesn’t have a choice?”

Qurrah shook his head.

“Then all the more reason for us to be careful.”

She fell silent as they walked down the road, as if deep in thought. Qurrah held her hand, squeezed it tight.

“Must we kill them?” she suddenly asked.

“Who? The angels?”

She nodded. Qurrah sighed.

“I fear we might.”

“I don’t want to kill them. I’m scared to.”

He frowned at his lover.

“Scared? Why?”

She shook her head, and with the way she regressed into herself he knew he would receive no answer. So instead he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

The most immediate thing they noticed when stepping through the walls was the smell. It was of salt, sea, and fish, damp wood and overgrown moss. It was vibrant, if a bit overwhelming. Tessanna seemed to love it, though, inhaling deep and smiling. It was good to see, and Qurrah grinned despite the stench.

“It’s alive here,” she said. “So unlike Mordeina.”

Qurrah shrugged.

“Mordeina smelled better.”

She winked at him, but did not counter. The traffic was light, and merchants called to them from both sides of the road. Qurrah meant to ignore them, but Tessanna drifted away. She looked over the food and trinkets, saying nothing, only drinking it all in with her eyes. Like a child, thought Qurrah. Despite his impatience, he let her go from booth to booth. A darkness had settled over her the past few months, he knew that. What he didn’t know was why, so anything that chased it away, anything that brought out the joy he knew was buried deep within her, was something he would encourage.

At last she returned to Qurrah, a guilty expression on her face.

“I was bad,” she said. “The man gave me a shrimp because I was pretty.”

“Hardly that bad,” Qurrah said, taking her hand so they might resume walking toward Bram’s castle.

“I might have leaned forward before asking for a taste. Very far forward.”

Qurrah rolled his eyes.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You suffer well enough.”

“You say as you lean forward.”

He laughed, and she squeezed his hand

The castle had three tall towers rising from the corners of its walls. Two of them were plain enough, though the third easily stood out from the others. From what Qurrah had learned of the city when first moving into the west years ago, that tower was known as the Eye. Its door was a deep crimson, oversized and bolted shut with a blatantly exaggerated lock. Above the door were ten skulls carved out of stone, leering down as if mocking anyone who might seek to enter. All three towers had guards stationed outside, plus the main castle gate. Figuring the direct approach to be the best, Qurrah walked up to the guards at the gate and bowed low in respect.

“I’ve come to speak with your king,” he said. “My name is Qurrah Tun.”

“Sure you are,” said one of the two, snickering at him. “And I’m a bloody angel.”

The guard looked to his comrade, as if to share a laugh, then saw the wide-eyed look he was getting. When he turned back to Qurrah, his mouth dropped open a little.

“You mean, he…he’s…”

“I am Qurrah,” he said. “Now either sprout wings, or find your king.”

“Begging your pardon,” said the other. “But he’s in the Eye. We’re never to disturb him when he’s in the Eye.”

Qurrah sighed, and without waiting for their permission he began walking alongside the castle wall toward the great red doors of the Eye. The guards hesitated, then rushed after him. Tessanna remained at his side, and she giggled.

“You scare people so easily,” she said.

“One of the few benefits of our reputation, I guess.”

“I just think it’s your glare.”

“We can’t let you go in,” the guard said, moving as if to cut in front of them yet still too frightened to do so. So instead he kept stepping in and out of their way, as bothersome as a fly.

“I’m not going in,” Qurrah said. “Calm yourself.”

This had the opposite effect.

“Then what are you going to do?”

Qurrah stared up at the Eye, noticing its various windows, all of them constructed of stained and colored glass to hide whatever happened within. Still, the glass would be thin enough for them to hear. Putting magic into his voice, he cried out, his words like that of a bellowing giant.

“King Bram, Qurrah Tun requests your presence!”

The two guards who’d been stationed before the Eye drew their weapons as the two from before clutched their ears and winced. Tessanna, meanwhile, just laughed.

“First Mordeina, now here,” she said. “I think guards everywhere will soon hate us.”

“Drop your weapons!” the first guard shouted to the others. “King Bram named him friend at the Bloodbrick!”

They looked far from convinced, but thankfully the great red doors cracked open, and out stepped the king himself. Qurrah let out a sigh of relief. How nice to be his brother, who was cheered as a hero everywhere he went. Qurrah doubted Harruq had to endure terrified guards every time he tried to visit someone.

“I expected your return months later,” Bram said. “Did you change your mind about traveling to Mordeina?”

“Sparrows dream of traveling as fast as us,” Tessanna said, and she curtseyed to the king. “But we did indeed change our minds.”

Bram’s eyes sparkled for a moment, no doubt hoping he interpreted Tess’s speech correctly. Qurrah took her hand, then gestured to the tower.

“We would like a word with you,” he said. “In private.”

“Come inside the Eye,” Bram said. “I assure you, there is no more private place in all of Dezrel.”

Mildly curious about the interior of the over-exaggerated tower, Qurrah nodded his head, then followed Bram through the doors. Directly before them was a single staircase, looping upward through the low ceiling. They climbed the stairs, emerging onto the lone floor of the entire tower. This ceiling stretched high above them, and decorating the massive wall space were hundreds of paintings. They showed men fighting angels, demons, trolls, orcs, and even a few creatures Qurrah had never seen put to drawing. In every image, Qurrah realized it was men who fought them, never the monsters against one another. Torches burned at regular intervals, which, combined with the various stained glass windows, ensured each painting was given visibility. In the center of the room was a large wooden table, the wood well-aged. Carved in perfect detail atop it was a map of the world of Dezrel.

“Forgive the theatrical nature of the place,” Bram said as he took a seat before the enormous table. “But the walls are sheer inside and out, which leaves no place for spies. No ears at these walls, not even those of an angel, so speak your mind.”

Tessanna wandered over to the table, admiring the map. Her fingers drifted over a representation of the Elethan Mountains, her fingertips brushing their pointed tops painted a snowy white.

“They don’t need to hear us,” Tessanna said absently. “Just find us.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Bram said.

Qurrah took a seat beside his wife. The chair felt slightly oversized, leaving him feeling like a dwarf. He frowned but ignored it.

“You were right about Mordan,” he said. “Things there are foul, and over the few days we spent in Mordeina, they turned all the fouler.”

“How so?” Bram asked.

“Assassins made an attempt on my brother’s family, well-paid assassins that even after death I could learn nothing from. As for the angels…”

Qurrah sighed, not wanting to get into it but knowing he had no choice. Before he could, Tessanna interrupted.

“This map isn’t right anymore,” she said, staring keenly at the northwestern corner.

“My dear, this map is older than my father’s father, but I assure you we’ve kept its borders and representations very precise over the years,” Bram said.

“It’s still wrong.”

She slid around the side, then placed her hand atop of the carved city of Mordeina. Her eyes flared wide, and after a few words of magic, her hand began to glow. Bram tensed but remained seated. Qurrah watched, merely curious. He sensed no real anger from Tessanna, just a vague unease. When the spell enacted, he understand why. Rising from the wood was a small city glowing entirely out of light. It hovered above Mordeina, a shimmering replication of the golden city of Avlimar. Its light shone across the entirety of the west, casting long shadows.

“Forgive me,” Bram said. “It does appear my map was incomplete.”

“Without Avlimar, it never will be,” Tessanna said. “You can’t forget it’s there. You can’t remove it. The angels are coming, and they will not care that you are a king.”

Bram snapped to attention.

“Coming here? Why?” He stared at the two of them, and it seemed his mood improved despite his breathless words. “They’re coming for you, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know,” Qurrah said, slumping in his chair and rubbing his forehead. “But I fear they will. The people of the north are demanding retribution, wanting nothing to do with penance and forgiveness for murderers and thieves. And in Mordan, there’s no better known murderer than I. You promised us protection if we needed it, and now we are here for just that. Will you give us shelter?”

“You’d have me spill blood to protect you?” Bram asked.

“If it must come to that,” Qurrah said.

The king stood, walked around the table so he might put a hand on Qurrah’s shoulder.

“You are a citizen of my nation,” he said. “I care not where you were born, but from now on, your roots are here. Your home is here. And I promise you, from the highest noble to the lowliest serf, no man of my kingdom will be subjected to the angels’ judgment. Not during my reign.”

From below they heard the heavy rumbling of the door opening, following by it shutting. The three turned to see an older knight come noisily up the stairs. Without saying a word he grabbed a pitcher from a side table, filled a tall cup, and then plopped into a chair beside Qurrah. The half-orc recognized him but could not quite place the face.

“No word yet from the east, your grace,” the newcomer said. “I’ve kept our soldiers on alert just in case, since there’s no telling when Antonil will be making his way back to our borders. For all we know, the first orc army he meets will whip his behind and send him crawling back to us. Might not have more than a day or two’s notice if we’re to meet him at Ashhur’s Bridge.”

Bram chuckled, gestured to the man as he guzzled down his drink.

“Qurrah, Tessanna, meet my most trusted knight, Sir Ian Millar.”

“Charmed,” Ian said, tipping his cup.

“I hope this man won’t be the one put in charge of protecting us,” Qurrah said, offering a wry smile. “Otherwise I might try to steal away his cup so there’s a chance of him remaining sober.”

“Just try it, half-orc,” Ian said. “We’ll see just how much your reputation’s been inflated.”

“That’s enough of that,” Bram said. “Ian, these two will be our guests for the next few weeks. They suspect angels might be coming for them, and this is something that must not be allowed.”

“Is that so?” Ian said, raising an eyebrow. “How politely are we to tell the angels to piss off? With flowery words, or with lowborn gestures and swears?”

“With a sword,” Bram said, darkening Ian’s mood. He finished off his cup, then set it down atop the representation of Veldaren.

“Aye,” he said. “I can do that. If you two would follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms. Other than Bram’s own quarters, there’s no safer place in this castle.”

“Will there be windows?” Tessanna asked as they stood.

Ian paused, scratched at his face.

“Hrm. Perhaps I need to rethink just where the safest place is…”

The safest place was far from what Qurrah expected, but he could not deny the logic. The accommodations, however, could have been better.

“Now I know a dungeon’s not the finest smelling of places,” Ian said as servants rushed all around him. “But there’s no windows and only one entrance, which we’ll have guarded at all times.”

“Tales of your king’s generosity will spread for miles,” Qurrah said as he watched two servants haul in a feathered mattress. They’d swept and cleaned the cell best they could, though nothing would ever remove the lingering, dingy feel of the place. Their only light was from a small torch on the opposite side of the hallway. Still, the sheets and bed were soft, and both Qurrah and Tess had stayed in far worse conditions.

“It should,” Ian said. “Given all he’s risking for you two. To be honest, I’m not sure you’re worth it.”

“Risk?” Qurrah asked. “He risks the lives of a few guards. Surely any king can risk that.”

“Qurrah,” Tessanna said, touching his arm.

Ian glanced at the servants, then snapped his fingers. They hustled out, the room mostly furnished. The two nearby cells had also been emptied and cleaned, the prisoners moved deeper into the dungeon, behind one of the many doors that helped separate the various blocks.

“Your girl gets it,” Ian said once the servants were gone. He leaned against the bars and crossed his arms. “Have you thought about what will happen if angels do come demanding you, and we refuse?”

“They’ll either leave, or you’ll kill them,” Qurrah said, as if it were obvious.

“True,” Ian said. “But think long term for a moment. Just try.”

“It’ll be war,” Tessanna said quietly. “Terrible, brutal war.”

“A war I don’t see us winning,” Ian said. “At least, not as we are. Perhaps if you two lived up to your various legends we might stand a chance. But we’d be going up against the might of the angels, plus Mordeina’s far larger army. You were at the Bloodbrick. You saw their show of might.”

“Might currently spent fighting orcs,” Qurrah argued.

“Aye,” Ian said. “And just imagine how quickly they’d turn back around if they heard rumors of war. You two coming here puts us all in danger. I’m not one to complain. My life is on the line pretty much every day I put on this armor. But if you’re going to stay here, if you’re going to let my men die to protect you from some winged maniacs, all I’m asking for is a little appreciation.”

Qurrah bowed his head.

“My apologies,” he said. “I should better control my tongue. I am thankful for all you do, and pray that our time here in this dungeon will be long and uneventful.”

Ian nodded his head, then pushed off from the bars.

“Much better.” He tossed them an iron ring. “Here’s the keys to the cell, just in case you need to lock yourselves in. Angels might be strong, but I doubt they’ll be breaking open bars with their bare hands. Try to stay in here as much as you can, but you’re free to walk around the city at your leisure. Servants will come to see if you need anything-food, drink, whatever. Other than that, enjoy your stay. I’ve got some patrols to schedule.”

He left, the heavy door to the dungeon slamming shut with a bang. Qurrah stood in the center of their cell, feeling as if his feet were bolted in place.

“War,” he said softly as Tessanna flung herself onto the bed. “Is that really what we create by coming here?”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Tessanna said, stretching out on her back. “If it wasn’t us, it’d be someone else. You heard Bram. He won’t let a single man or woman be judged, and over the past years I’m sure many who were spared the angels’ wrath have crossed the Corinth into Ker’s lands.”

“Pale comfort,” Qurrah muttered.

“But comfort nonetheless.”

He joined her on the bed, and Tessanna curled her body into his, her face pressed against his chest and her eyes closed. Slowly he brushed her long hair, his mind far away.

“Tess,” he whispered. “Can you sense the angels?”

After a long pause, she nodded.

“They’re not like men,” she said. “They burn in my mind if I let it wander.”

Qurrah knew he should ask, but he was frightened to. Taking a deep breath, he let it out, then asked anyway.

“Do you sense angels coming toward us?”

Another long pause.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

She curled tighter against him, kissed his neck.

“Enough,” she whispered.