The Prison of Angels

29

Daniel stood in the top floor of the Blood Tower, feeling very old. It’d been eleven years since Sir Robert had died and control of the Wall of Towers passed over to him. Staring out the window at the river beyond, he wished anyone else had taken his place in the aftermath of the Gods’ War. Someone younger, someone with energy. Because as he watched in vain for another boat to return, knowing it would not, he felt too damn tired to do anything about it.

“This is your fault, Antonil,” he muttered as he turned away. “For once, couldn’t you have looked to this country’s defense instead of your old home’s?”

For years he’d requested more soldiers, and for years he’d been denied. At first it was because everyone was needed to help rebuild the land. Then came the first failed campaign to retake the east, followed by the even larger second. And through it all, good men, men he needed to man the boats and patrol the wildlands of the Vile Wedge, were instead sent to die in a foreign land. Whenever someone would whisper the title The Missing King, Daniel had always made sure his ears were deaf to it. The last thing he wanted was to punish one of his few men for saying something he actually agreed with.

Daniel descended the steps of the tower and stepped out into the bright light of the full moon. His two hundred men were out and about, as per his orders. Something was amiss. He felt it in his gut, and so he’d kept them awake, not even bothering to assign shifts. The signs were too similar to before, made all the more frightening by their suddenness.

“Has Johnson returned?” Daniel asked as he approached the docks. Several men were gathered there, and they all shook their heads.

“Not yet,” said one of the men. Daniel was hardly surprised, but he tried not to let his frustration show.

“Keep looking,” he said. He spun, making his way to the wall that surrounded the tower before dipping into the shallower portions of the river. He climbed the steps, then looked out across the Gihon. Patrols walked past, and he squinted against the light of their torches. Two days ago it had started. There’d been no warning. No casualties, no reports of deaths like when the wolf-men first started preying on the people of Durham, marking their eventual assault. No, one night his boats simply had not returned. He sent out two more, one north, one south. The one north had been a patrol, the one south to check with Tower Red to see if they had encountered anything unusual.

The northern boat never returned, and so far they’d yet to receive word from the south. Glancing at the full moon, he felt the pale orb put fear into his blood. Something was definitely wrong, and no matter what it might be, he didn’t have the manpower to fight it. An hour before he’d sent out a rider to the Castle of the Yellow Rose to plead for aid from Lord Hemman. Beyond that, there was little he could do but wait and pray.

“Sir!” one of the patrolmen shouted, rushing alongside the wall and waving his arms to get his attention.

“Yes?” Daniel asked, turning.

“A boat at the docks!”

Daniel felt his tension easing. Perhaps it wasn’t as dire as he thought.

“Is it Johnson, or someone from Red?”

“I don’t know,” said the soldier. “I just saw it from the wall.”

Daniel climbed down the steps to the ground, and he saw many other soldiers hurrying toward the docks as well. He couldn’t blame them, a bunch of nervous men stuck armed and ready with nothing to do but wait. The crowd parted easily enough, and when Daniel caught sight of the boat his hopes were dashed. The man from Tower Red looked pale, and he saluted Daniel upon his arrival.

“Sir,” the man said. “I…forgive me. I don’t know how to say it. Tower Red is gone.”

“Gone?” Daniel asked, feeling ice thickening around his spine.

“The goat-men,” he said. “They rushed us from the Wedge, thousands of them. I managed to escape during the attack. I was ordered to, I swear. I ain’t no coward. But they smashed down the doors of the tower like they were nothing, and against that many, we couldn’t…we…”

Daniel grabbed his shoulders and shook him to force him to calm.

“Deep breaths, soldier,” he said. “Tell me again, how many?”

“At least two thousand,” the man said. “Please, we have to get help. We have to go back there. They might still…”

From beyond the river came a single, high-pitched shriek. Following it were thousands more, a sound so painful that Daniel clutched his hands to his head, his fingers jammed into his ears. He knew that sound, though never in such terrifying volume.

“To your places!” he screamed, hoping they heard his voice above the noise. “Man the walls, and form ranks along the river!”

He drew his own sword and rushed to the nearest staircase leading up to the wall. Before he even reached the top he saw the swarm growing on the opposite side of the river. Bird-men, a veritable legion, flapping their wings and shrieking like the wild things they were. Their feet were long, their claws sharp, and the river was a paltry defense against them.

“Everyone along the river,” he shouted, realizing the bird-men intended no delay, no siege to prevent flight. The water roiled as the creatures dove into it, using their wide, flightless wings to push them forward. When he was back on solid ground, Daniel grabbed the nearest man and yanked him close.

“Get to the stable,” he shouted into the man’s face, determined to be heard over the chaos.

“Sir?” he asked. His eyes were wide, but he appeared to be in control of himself.

“Take the fastest horse and ride to the Yellow Rose! They have to know. This isn’t just a single pack.”

“Then what do I tell him it is?”

Daniel glanced at the river, where the first of the bird-men were being hacked to death by his soldiers as they attempted to scramble out of the water.

“Tell them it’s an army,” he said. “The whole damn Vile Wedge has come for blood. Now go!”

He shoved the man back, then rushed to the river. They had just enough men to form a single line along the shore. With the water slowing the beasts, the advantage was theirs, at least for a short while. Daniel thrust his sword, letting a bird-man impale itself on the blade while its enormous beak snapped futilely at his neck. He twisted the handle before kicking the creature off, then he swung again and again, batting at a second bird-man that flapped free of the river with an awkward gait. His sword easily crushed its thin bones.

All around him men screamed as beaks snapped down on their arms and long raptor claws raked against their exposed flesh. Two hundred against thousands, thought Daniel as he continued to hack and slash. But what more could they do, other than buy time for his rider? Daniel thought of the people beyond, the farmlands that waited like ripened berries for the beasts to pluck. Two towers falling in the same night? What did it mean?

“Fall back!” he screamed. Bodies of the dead floated all throughout the river, obstacles against the remaining forces, but too many bird-men were making it clear of the water. “Fall back to the tower!”

Daniel led the way, his old legs pumping as hard as they could. Others passed him by, younger and faster than he. From behind he heard screams, wet snapping sounds, and overwhelming it all was that continuous, mind-numbing shriek. Into the tower he ran. Several soldiers stood at the door, watching. The moment the last man entered they slammed it shut, flinging the heavy bolts in place. Immediately the door shook as bodies smashed into the other side. Digging soon followed, sharp claws scratching grooves into the thick wood.

“Find anything you can to block the door with,” Daniel ordered before climbing the stairs. His bones ached, but he ignored the pain easily enough, for even on good days his body gave him trouble. To the very top of the tower he climbed, opening a hatch in the ceiling. He grabbed a wrapped package from his closet, then up he went, climbing onto the small flat space. Other than a few stacked stones there was nothing to keep him from falling, and on his knees he overlooked the surrounding area. The full moon kept the land lit, and he directed his gaze to the river.

The bird-men continued swimming across. At least three thousand, he guessed, as the creatures swarmed throughout the inner compound, looking like a horde of vermin from that height. A few failed to climb the sides of the stone, the rest taking turns scratching at the door. Daniel shook his head, knowing it would not take long before the door fell.

Goat-men. Bird-men. Daniel’s gut told him the wolf-men were a part of it as well. A coordinated attack. He shivered to think of who could ally the beasts together. It was their constant squabbling that had kept their numbers in check for all these years, their inherent hatred of each other that had protected the people on the other side of the river from any real danger. But somehow that was gone.

“Ashhur help us all,” he said.

He unwrapped the package. The gold of the scepter shone in the moonlight. Daniel lifted it above him and spoke the command word. The blue pillar shot into the sky, the beacon visible for miles upon miles. He stared at it, daring to have hope. Twice more he activated it, and each time he noticed the bird-men below staring up as if mesmerized. He wondered what the creatures’ pathetic brains thought of the light. Perhaps they knew what it meant. After all, they’d coordinated an assault on multiple towers. Despite his years, not to mention his experience, he still hadn’t given enough credit to the beasts.

“Where are you?” Daniel muttered, staring at the sky. He’d never called for the angels before, but this seemed as perfect a time as any. At least he might inform them of the attack, ensuring that the riders he sent to Lord Hemman didn’t have their warnings go unheeded. The minutes passed, interminable due to the constant squawking and screeching.

At last he saw white wings. They were almost above him by the time he spotted them, for they came from the east. Daniel raised his arms, waving, but something was wrong. The wings were even larger than he expected, and as the creature dipped, he realized it wasn’t an angel at all, but a winged horse. Two people rode atop it, their bodies just faint silhouettes. Slowly he lowered his hands, and he felt his innards tighten. Silent, he watched as the horse circled twice, then continued west.

From the horse shot a blinding object. An arrow, Daniel realized, as it smashed into one of the bird-men. It was only one, and then they were gone, flying toward the Castle of the Yellow Rose. The acknowledgement made Daniel feel better, but only by a miniscule amount. At least someone else, one of the elven Ekreissar, apparently, would help spread the tale. Perhaps an army might be raised in time. Perhaps thousands of lives might be spared.

From below he heard the shattering of wood, and he glanced down to see the tower doors had broken. His men fought bravely, using the cramped space of the doorway to their advantage, but defeat was inevitable. He had barely fifty men left. Against three thousand, what could they do?

One last time he used the scepter, calling Ashhur’s name so the light would pierce the night. As it faded, and the starlight replaced it, he let out a sigh. Wherever the angels were, it wasn’t where they were needed. From his limp hand he let the scepter drop. Down the side of the tower it fell, smashing as it hit ground. A puff of blue smoke rose from the pieces, drifting away to nothingness as the bird-men swarmed through the gateway, killing their way ever higher.

At last he heard movement from the hatch, which he’d left open. Drawing his sword, he turned. A single creature came climbing upward, its wings making it difficult for the thing to get a grip on the rungs. Daniel shoved his sword down its throat, then kicked in its beak. It fell, the noise alerting the rest to his presence. The monsters scrambled upward, biting at his thrusts, using their impressive strength to hurl themselves at the hatch, ignoring the ladder altogether. Daniel laughed as he fought, thinking he might be able to kill them off one at a time, brawling as the hours passed and he whittled the thousands down at the ridiculously slow pace.

That thought didn’t last long. One of the bird-men’s beaks locked tight when he stabbed it straight through its throat and into the back of the brain. It fell, hurdling backward so violently that it yanked the sword from Daniel’s hand. Weaponless, he backed toward the edge of the tower, preparing himself. He would not be their food. A single step and off he’d go, falling, the ground to be his killer instead of the freakish leftovers of a long-forgotten war.

The first bird-man made it to the top of tower, but it did not find the easy prey it expected. A heavy gust of air blew Daniel away from the ledge, and then a man came falling from the sky, a long blade in hand. The man, an elf, stabbed the creature through the eye upon landing, then kicked it down to join the rest of the bodies in Daniel’s room.

“That damn girl is going to be the death of me,” the elf said, glancing over his shoulder as he settled into a stance before the hatch. “Consider yourself fortunate for the eagerness of youth.”

Behind him, Daniel heard the winged horse let out a neigh, and when he turned he saw the creature hovering just beyond the ledge. A young woman sat atop it, reaching for him.

“Take my hand!” she shouted, and before he lost his nerve he did just that. His step was not far enough, and as she yanked he fell with his stomach bent over the horse’s back. That appeared good enough, and into the air they shot, leaving the elf behind.

“Don’t take us far!” the girl shouted as Daniel hung on for dear life.

“What?” he shouted back.

“Not you!”

Less than a quarter-mile beyond the tower was a stretch of forest, and the horse landed at its edge. Daniel slipped off, thrilled to be on solid ground. Barely slowing, the pair hooked around and swooped back toward the tower. Daniel watched while on his knees, trying to regain his breath. He felt overwhelmed, pulled back from certain death to a sudden reprieve. At the same time he knew his men were gone, his tower overrun. He didn’t know how to feel, other than sick and exhausted. Even from the forest he could hear the sounds of the bird-men, and it filled him with shivers.

Moments later he saw the horse, and he was glad to see both had survived. They landed with a burst of wind, both the elf and the girl hopping off.

“Are you all right?” she asked him.

“I am, thanks to you,” he said.

“This isn’t good,” said the elf, a frown locked across his features. “Sonowin cannot carry the three of us.”

“Then we run,” the girl offered.

“Indeed.” The elf turned to him. “Except for you. Get back on. Sonowin will take you to safety, if you guide her.”

“No,” Daniel said. “I won’t be a burden like that.”

“You’re not,” said the elf. “I need you to raise an army, and send out warnings to all the nearby villages. At least three towers have fallen from what we’ve seen. It won’t be long before the rest are gone, and the entire North is being overrun.”

Reluctantly, Daniel climbed back atop the horse, wishing there was at least a saddle. The creature swung her head side to side, neighing loudly.

“Head southwest,” he told her. “Can you understand southwest?”

The horse bobbed her head, snorting. Her wings flared wide, and he guessed the intelligent creature did. He looked down at his rescuers. They each stood tall, with long bows in hand.

“What will you two do?” he asked.

“Don’t worry,” the elf said. “Sonowin will come find us. And until then, well…”

He glanced to the girl. Her face was haggard and scarred, and despite looking like she’d endured a nightmare, she smiled.

“Until then, we go hunting,” she said, lifting her bow.

Sonowin’s wings beat harder, and away into the air they went. Daniel watched the two vanish into the forest before turning his attention to where they flew. Leaning closer so the horse could hear his words and see his actions, he pointed in the direction where he thought the nearby castle waited.

“Fly on,” he said, and the horse obeyed.

Daniel settled back in, his arms wrapped around the creature’s neck to keep him secure. Still exhausted, he said a prayer for his dead men, as well as his saviors. It made him sad when he realized he’d never even asked them their names. Perhaps, he thought, if the world was kind, he’d get another chance.

The old soldier shook his head. A kind world. What an insane thought.

Onward they flew, as far behind him the bird-men emptied out from the walls of Blood Tower and continued on, heading for where the farms and villages slumbered.