The Prison of Angels

2

The ax came down with a thunk, easily splitting the log in half. Qurrah Tun wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. He prespired not from exertion, but from the heat. Controlling the undead being with the ax required little effort on his part. With a slow but steady motion his undead servant pushed the split wood to the side, bent down for another log, and set it before him on the heavy stump.

“Qurrah?”

The half-orc looked up from where he sat leaning against a tree with a book in his lap.

“Yes, Tess?”

Tessanna came around the side of their cabin as the ax fell, splitting another log. Her long black hair ran all the way down to her waist. A single braid looped around her forehead, pulling her bangs away from her face. Despite her plain brown dress she looked like a goddess to Qurrah, with her pale skin, slender body, and eyes so black only a hint of white showed at the edges. The only mar upon her perfection were her arms, laced with dozens of scars, most of them self-inflicted.

“Someone’s coming,” she said.

“Well then, let’s meet him at the road,” he said, putting his book away.

“He’s not using the road.”

Qurrah let out a sigh. The arrival of an angel may not always bring bad news, but it did mean complications. They were stretched too thin across Mordan to dally with trivial things.

“Then let him come to us,” he said, taking her hand. “You aren’t nervous, are you?”

Tessanna smirked at him.

“With the two of us together? It would take many, many more angels to make me nervous…and only if I had a reason. Do we have a reason to be nervous?”

“It could be sad news, perhaps a death in the family.”

“I’d know before they.”

Qurrah took her hand and together they walked to the front of their cabin. He believed her. She’d always had a strange connection to his family, especially since the tragedy with Aullienna. The thought stung him, and he forced his mind to think of other things. If something bad had happened to Harruq, Aurelia, or especially his daughter Aubrienna, he’d have heard of it long before an angel could make the flight from Mordeina.

Mind distracted, he almost missed the landing of the angel, who softly curled about in the air so his feet touched ground with nary a sound. His hair was short, brown, and his green eyes sparkled with gold.

“Welcome to our meager home, Azariah,” Qurrah said. “You risk much coming to me. Your kind isn’t welcome within Ker’s borders.”

“I come as an ambassador, not an enforcer,” Azariah said. “Besides, when I am in the sky, who in Dezrel might harm me?”

“I could if I still had my wings,” Tessanna said, picking at the hem of her dress. “But I don’t need them anymore. At least I hope not.”

“No angel would dare pretend to know the goddess’s intentions,” Azariah said, turning to her. “But your power may have waned for a reason, and it might return with equal reason. Celestia would not leave you helpless should a need arise.”

She smiled at him so beautifully, but Qurrah sensed the daggers hiding behind it.

“Helpless?” she said, and a brief flicker of flame passed from her palm, across her knuckles, and back into her fingers, where she snuffed it. “I have forfeited my wings, and the power of a goddess is no longer mine, but do not think me helpless, angel. It would be poor sport watching you try to fly with your wings ablaze.”

Qurrah put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed as Azariah dipped his head low to show he meant no disrespect.

“It is wrong of me to be so careless with my words,” the angel said. “Especially since you and I are in such similar situations.”

Qurrah heard the thunk of an ax, and he turned around to see his pet flailing at the log, which he’d failed to fully split. Frowning, he waved a hand at it, ceasing all functions until he could deal with it later. When he turned back he caught Azariah frowning at him.

“Your power still wanes?” Qurrah asked, trying to prevent a conversation he had no patience for.

“It does,” Azariah said, walking toward their cabin. “It is strange, for I cannot decipher the reason. Not all of our kind suffer like I. The warriors and enforcers still retain their abilities, limited as they are. We can still calm troubled minds and sense truth from lie, but more and more our priests struggle to have our prayers answered. It is a humbling thing, Qurrah, to go from the mightiest priest of our lord to a mere winged man who even the lowliest scoundrel could pierce with his sword.”

“Humility in an angel?” Qurrah said, smiling at Azariah. “And to think you act like the age of miracles has passed.”

“It is with humility I can accept the coming changes and prepare for them. My priestly spells vanish. Perhaps it is our descent to this world, our proximity to its sin and corruption. Perhaps Ashhur slumbers, or Celestia’s control over him has increased in response to the war that sundered her land. None of these things can I change.”

He opened the door to their cabin, holding it so the two might enter first. Tessanna took Qurrah’s arm, hovering close beside him as if she were afraid. Normally Qurrah would think it an act, but there was never any knowing with Tessanna. Her mind, while worlds better than when he first met her, was still a fragile thing, and rarely predictable.

Inside the cabin was their bed, a small table, and a dormant fireplace. It wasn’t much, especially compared to the splendor his brother now lived in, but it was theirs. Given how he and Tessanna had nearly destroyed all of Dezrel, it felt like luxury enough.

“How fares my brother?” he asked as he thought of Harruq. He sat in a chair beside the table, and Tessanna sat next to him, her head leaning against his shoulder.

“I will speak of him soon enough,” Azariah said, flashing an indecipherable smile. “He is the reason I came, but I would first make a request before I lose my courage. I cannot change the loss of my power, but I can adapt. I can embrace this new world we are to rule. Qurrah…can you share with me your knowledge of the arcane arts?”

It took a moment before Qurrah could compose his thoughts.

“You want me…to teach you?”

“Is it so strange?” Azariah asked. “My hands were not meant to hold a blade. Tell me, could you take up your brother’s swords with any degree of skill?”

“Well, no.”

“Then why should others expect the same of me? I once wielded great power. I would do so again.”

“He would be the perfect pupil,” Tessanna whispered into his ear. “He is an angel, after all.”

Her giggle showed her true opinion on the matter, however.

“There must be better teachers than I,” Qurrah said. “What about Tarlak? He even lives in Mordeina.”

“He travels with King Antonil on their campaign to retake the east, and I cannot afford to be away for such a lengthy time.”

Qurrah’s brain scrambled for other alternatives.

“The Council of Mages,” he said. “What of them?”

Azariah shook his head.

“If you think Ker carries a distrust of my kind, you should hear the opinions of the Council. No, they will not teach me. Neither will the elves, for those who still bear the gift of magic in their blood are closely guarded, and are not prone to sharing.”

“Not all of them,” Qurrah insisted. “I’m sure Aurelia would be willing to-”

“You must understand something,” Azariah interrupted. “I hold a position of great respect. Should mortals hear of my training, I would be mocked, or doubted. There are many of my own kind who distrust the learning of magical spellcasting, even a few who would declare it blasphemous. That you are here, acting the recluse, helps put my mind at ease concerning this matter.”

“I could teach you,” Tessanna said.

“Wait a moment,” Qurrah said. “Wait…”

“From what I know of you, I fear I would not be an appropriate student,” Azariah said. “Magic comes to you easily, and its very nature is unpredictable. But I will accept…should your husband have no objections.”

Their eyes turned on Qurrah, and he felt like a caged animal. Tessanna’s fingers played with the neckline of his shirt, and the tension in her shoulders told him she feared his rejection. Letting out a sigh, he kissed the top of her head.

“We will both teach you as best we can,” he said. “Though I fear you will have a lengthy flight between every lesson.”

“Perhaps not,” Azariah said. “But speaking of lengthy flights, do you have something I might drink?”

Tessanna retrieved a wood-carved cup from a cupboard, filled it with water from a pitcher, and then dipped her finger inside.

“Wine,” she said, handing it over. “Don’t worry, it is very weak.”

“Many thanks,” Azariah said. Putting the cup to his lips, he drank until it was gone. “Much better,” he said, setting it down. “Now, about your brother, and our training. I’ve come to ask you to return to Mordeina. You don’t need to live next to him if you would prefer some separation, but I think it would be helpful to have you two nearby in case something goes wrong.”

“Is Aubrienna in danger?” Tessanna asked. A bit of life leapt into her wide gaze.

“I do not know,” Azariah said. “And it pains me greatly to admit even that. The shadow of Avlimar should be a safe place, but Mordeina still bears many sinful hearts.”

“But why?” Qurrah asked. “What has he done to earn himself enemies?”

The feathers in Azariah’s wings ruffled.

“Antonil appointed Harruq steward over the kingdom in his absence,” the angel said with a sigh. “The king is not beloved, and those scheming against him will turn those schemes upon your brother. I fear his life will soon be in danger.”

Before Qurrah knew it, Tessanna’s hand had slipped into his. He squeezed it tight, then met Azariah’s green eyes with his own.

“We will need time to decide,” he said.

“And time you will have,” Azariah said, pushing back open the door to their cabin. “I’ll be flying northeast to meet with the paladins, though I won’t be staying long. When my business with them concludes, I will return here for your answer.”

Qurrah nodded, but he did not stand for the angel’s exit. Another dip of his head in respect, and then Azariah left the cabin. With a heavy gust of air the angel soared skyward, leaving them once more alone in their cabin. The tranquility they’d had before, though, was shattered. Qurrah said nothing, only sat at the table frowning as he tried to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. Knowing his brother might be in danger brought out the strong instinct in him to go to his aid, but things were just not that simple.

When the great betrayer of Veldaren traveled somewhere, he did not go unnoticed.

“You want to go, don’t you?” Tessanna asked him as she stood from the table. “But you’re also afraid.”

“I am.”

Tessanna stood before their bed and crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced over her shoulder, let her hair fall over her face.

“Would you like to have me?” she asked. “Help clear your mind?”

He rubbed his eyes, then blinked as she tossed off her dress.

“Sure,” he said. “Why not.”

It did indeed help clear his mind. Afterward they lay naked together, the light of the cabin dwindling as the sun descended below the tree line. Tessanna’s hands traced unseen runes across his chest, her eyes staring into nowhere.

“If you want to go, we should go,” she said.

“If that oaf’s a steward, then all of Mordan balances on a precarious peace,” he said. “Our arrival might do more harm than good.”

“You don’t know that,” Tessanna said, her fingers pinching the skin of his chest. “The angels forgave you. Everyone knows you slew Karak’s prophet, and what of your stand at the Bridges? You gave your life for them, for all of them.”

“No one survived to tell the tale.”

“You and I survived.”

“All the more reason not to tell stories. They won’t believe it, and they won’t care. I’m the man who helped burn Veldaren to the ground. I helped open the portal to let the demons in. To come to Mordeina and insist on aiding Harruq would be disastrous. My very presence will contaminate him.”

“I’m the one who let in the war god,” Tessanna said. “I’m the one who pushed you to Velixar. Do I contaminate you, Qurrah? Would you go alone, leave me here to protect the cabin from the forest’s encroach?”

He fell silent, trying to decide the right words to say.

“You are my everything,” he told her. “If we go, we go together. But the angels’ forgiveness means nothing, not to the people. I know they hate me, and they have every reason to. That’s why we came here, Tess.”

“Is that why? To hide?”

“To make a new life. To start over.”

She sat up, the blanket falling away to expose her thin body, her spine faintly visible in the dying light. Her arms crossed, holding herself as if she were cold.

“If that is why we’re here, then it’s not a new life,” she said, her head dipping low, her eyes downcast. “It’s a prison. I ask you again…do you want to help Harruq?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

“Then we’re going, old sins and angry peasants be damned. We’re not the enemy, not anymore.”

He took her in his arms and pulled her back down to the bed.

“If we’re not, then who is?” he asked her as he held her close.

“What if there isn’t one?”

“The people must always have a villain.”

She curled around so they lay face to face.

“If they must, then they’ll find another. And another. The orcs, the elves, the people of Ker…”

“The angels.”

Her dark eyes stared into his.

“Then Harruq needs our help all the more. I have watched him suffer enough. He won’t again, and not for that. Not for Aubrienna. Even if all the realm crumbles, she must live. She must.”

She slipped free of their bed, and naked she left the cabin. Qurrah lay there for a moment, almost giving her the privacy she wanted. But what if that wasn’t what she wanted? He didn’t know. He never knew. Tossing aside the blanket, he went to the door and peered out. The sight stole away his breath, and he was fearful of revealing his presence. Sorrow tugged at his heart, and he felt painfully helpless.

Tessanna stood in the glimmer of the rising moon. Her arms were raised heavenward, her head tilted back as if she might drink in the light of the stars. A soft wind encircled her, coming from nowhere and everywhere. Words of magic flowed from her lips, gathering shadows. For the briefest moment she lifted up, the grass touching just the tips of her toes. And then she fell, so softly, so gently, back down to the ground. No tears ran from her eyes, but the sorrow was there, as easy to see as her stark black hair. Qurrah turned away, feeling like an intruder. Into the cabin he went, shutting the door behind him. His lower lip trembled. In his head he kept seeing it, the image of her rising. Rising, as if she were still the goddess.

Rising, as if she still had her wings.