The Prison of Angels

5

As Tessanna prepared the last of her things, Qurrah went out behind their cabin to where his undead servant patiently waited. The body was that of a stout man, no doubt a hardy fellow when he’d still drawn breath. Qurrah ran a hand down the side of his face, feeling the necrotic energy still flowing through it. King Bram had given them the land, in honor of their desire to be free of both angels and men in the wake of the Gods’ War. It had been abandoned for many years, left for the forest to slowly reclaim it. They’d chased away the weeds, cleared away the animals, and in doing so discovered the old family grave.

He’d been dead for at least ten years, but that hardly mattered to Qurrah. From the ground he’d summoned the skeleton and, with Tessanna’s help, slowly applied a false flesh to hide the bones and rot. No soul remained in it, for Qurrah would not subject anyone to that punishment, not ever again. The thing was a useful tool, nothing more. They’d not bothered to name him, just like Qurrah had never named his robes or the burning whip he still kept coiled around his arms when he felt afraid.

“You have been good to us,” Qurrah said, hand still touching the thing’s face. “Rest now, and return to the dust. We have need of you no more.”

He pulled in his strength through the contact, the powerful magic returning to him. The servant collapsed, the false flesh becoming a gray powder that hovered in the air like a fog. The bones thudded dully, covered by worn clothes and a bit of hair. Qurrah looked at it, feeling a bit sad. It was definitely good he had not named the mindless thing. He’d grown attached to it as it was.

From the ground he looked up, forcing his attention to the forest around them. In the past few years he’d developed a greater appreciation for the wilderness, for the song of the birds and the rustle of the leaves as the wind blew through them. In it he sensed a peace that would forever elude him. But at least it was a peace he could be close to. At least he could try to steal its comfort like the leech he often was in life.

“Qurrah?” Tessanna called, stepping out from the cabin. The half-orc glanced her way.

“Here,” he said.

She placed a small bag beside the door of the cabin and then joined his side, looping her arms around his elbow. Leaning against him, she looked to the pile of bones and clothes.

“He was a good servant,” she said.

“True. Always quiet, never intruded when he wasn’t wanted.”

Tessanna laughed.

“We should have brought him with us to Mordeina. He could have carried our things.”

Qurrah tried to match Tessanna’s mirth but could not.

“I’d prefer we travel unknown,” he said. “Having a dead man attending our needs would not help in that regard.”

She kissed his cheek.

“You worry too much. What does it matter if we draw attention? They can do nothing to us.”

Qurrah went to the cabin and picked up his own satchel, stuffed full of books, spare clothes, and, coiled at the very bottom, his whip. Slinging it over his shoulder, he rejoined Tessanna, who waited patiently on the edge of the road leading out of the forest. Azariah had said he would return for their answer, but Qurrah had no intention of waiting. Better they leave now, before any sort of preparations might be made for their arrival. When the angel returned to the cabin and found it empty, he trusted Azariah to know what their choice had been.

“How far?” she asked him as he looked one last time at their home.

“Just shy of the border,” he told her. “Azariah said that the people of Mordan are threatening to turn on Antonil. I would hear their whispers for myself. Perhaps outside the city walls I may help my brother more than at his side.”

Tessanna nodded, then closed her eyes. Lifting her arms, she whispered words of magic, her slender fingers clenched. The fabric of reality tore, a swirling black portal ripping open before them with a sudden gust of air. Its substance was shadow, and in its depths was the faint swirling of stars. Without hesitation Qurrah stepped inside, felt the familiar sense of vertigo, and then stepped out many miles away. Tessanna followed. From the corner of his eye he saw her stumble, and dropping his satchel he turned to catch her as she heaved. Bloody vomit spilled from her mouth, splattering on the grass below, and her arms clutched him with terrified strength.

“It’s nothing,” she said when she was able to breathe. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t, Qurrah knew. The old Tess could have sent them halfway around the world without batting an eye. She sensed his unease, though, and pushed him away.

“We’re here,” she said, wiping her mouth. “So lead on, dear husband.”

He retrieved his satchel, biting his tongue to prevent a fight. To force his mind off her, he looked about to see where, exactly, she’d taken them. They were in the shadows of a forest, the tree trunks slender, the bark a pale brown. The area around them was flat and covered with knee-high grass, so that despite the distance they could still see the river flowing a quarter-mile ahead.

“That way,” Tessanna said, gesturing northeast. “The bridge shouldn’t be far.”

Her voice was already growing stronger, and it helped put Qurrah’s mind at ease. Taking her hand in his, they began walking. The tall grass annoyed him, and he thought of the ticks and chiggers that might be crawling up his robes. With a thought he made his feet trail a dark cloud. Wherever he stepped the grass wilted, any insects unable to flee in time falling to their backs and dying.

“I thought we weren’t to attract attention,” Tessanna said.

“We’re not in civilization yet.”

The immediate area around the river was rocky, left barren and muddy from the spring rains. The two followed alongside it, and as the day crawled along they saw their first sign of the bridge in the distance.

“The Bloodbrick, correct?” Qurrah asked.

“You said you wanted to be at the border, so here we are.”

The Corinth River formed the barrier between the two nations of Ker and Mordan, with the Bloodbrick as the only significant crossing. In times past it had been left unguarded, with Ker nothing more than a puppet of the other kingdom. But then the Gods’ War had come, and in return for Bram overthrowing his demon rulers, Antonil had severed all ties between the two nations. More importantly, he’d vowed to keep Ker fully independent of Avlimar and her angels.

So when Qurrah saw the army massed at the southern side of the Bloodbrick, he was far from surprised.

“Such paranoia,” Qurrah said as they walked through the thin mud.

“Is it?” Tessanna asked. “Azariah implied the people were ready to rebel. And he did not say it, but what if they seek to rebel against the angels as well? Bram may have good reason to fear.”

Qurrah shrugged. Bram had always come across as a man ready to believe the worst in anything, though that hardly made him a defeatist. No, it just made him that much more prepared for when trouble did arrive. Of the four nations, Neldar and Omn had been thoroughly destroyed and overtaken by orcs. Mordan’s capital had been ravaged by battle and her countryside left in shambles from rebellion. But Ker, however…Ker had thrived, left nearly untouched by the devastation. And so her power had grown, as had the arrogance of her king.

“Should we disguise ourselves?” he asked as the bridge neared.

“No,” Tessanna said, and her tone left no room for argument. “I tire of hiding. If we are recognized, we are recognized. I walked at the side of gods and prophets. I will fear no lowly border guard.”

“That’s more than a border guard,” Qurrah said, frowning. By his best guess, at least ten thousand men gathered in various camps. The idea that Bram might be planning an invasion was preposterous, but then why such a strong show of force? He didn’t like it. And with that many eyes, there were bound to be a few who’d recognize them. Neither were particularly inconspicuous looking, him with his gray skin, orcish face, and curved ears, and Tessanna with the body of a goddess, long black hair, and those solid black eyes. He longed to use a disguise, but Tessanna had made her opinion clear, and he would not challenge her, not on this. At least the scars beneath his eyes were gone, having fallen away when Azariah returned life to his dead flesh after the demon god’s death.

“I need no magic to sense your fear,” she said, holding his hand as they approached the army. “We’ve come to help your brother, yes? Then perhaps we may do some good here, for I doubt an army gathering at his southern doorstep is there without reason.”

They veered farther from the river, so they might travel along the road before they reached the army protecting the bridge. The nearer they came, the stranger the sight. They weren’t even checking those who traveled into the nation, only out. Qurrah squeezed Tessanna’s hand tight as they approached the first dozen tents.

“They don’t even look for spies,” he said quietly to her.

“Perhaps they only fear the spies that fly through the air?”

He shrugged.

“Then why did Azariah not mention it to us?”

“Perhaps he didn’t know it to mention?”

The soldiers milled about, some gambling, some singing and playing simple instruments, while a good many drank. Only a few kept their attention on the road, and they had the bored look of someone forced into duty.

“Stay on the path,” one said as they passed. “No gawking, no begging, no selling wares.”

“Not even these wares?” Tessanna said, tilting her head back a little to better show her breasts. Qurrah pulled her along before the soldier could respond.

“Are you out of your mind?” he hissed.

“Do you know of a better way to learn information than from a man’s bed? Whores learn secrets spies cannot.”

She returned his look with a dull gaze, then giggled as if she were a little girl.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” she said, letting the matter drop. The concentration of soldiers thickened the closer they moved to the bridge. Ahead of them rode a large group, an apparent family traveling north with all their possessions. Their single wagon was loaded with belongings, and at the first stone of the Bloodbrick they were stopped and lazily searched over by two men holding halberds. A third guard stepped in front of Qurrah and Tessanna and lifted his hand.

“Hold up,” he said, offering no other words than that. He glanced back, watching the others search the wagon. Qurrah bit his tongue, and in the very center of the encampment he waited, trying not to look nervous. He felt stupid for being nervous in the first place, but it’d been five years since he’d been around people in general, let alone a large army. Tessanna was right-he really had been hiding from society in their cabin. Of course, standing in the middle of ten thousand men felt like a horrible time to realize it.

“Is there something they search for?” Qurrah asked, thinking he might try to learn something instead of standing there shuffling his weight from foot to foot.

“Keep your tongue behind your teeth,” the soldier said, barely giving him a glance. “I’m not here for questions. Just wait your turn.”

“You made the man mad,” Tessanna said, still seeming terribly amused by everything.

“Mad?” the soldier asked, actually turning to face them. “Girl, you haven’t…”

He stopped and stood perfectly still, his jaw hanging open the tiniest bit. There was no mistaking his gaze, which focused on her strange eyes.

“Your name,” the soldier said.

“I thought you weren’t here for questions,” Qurrah said, feeling his heart speed up. Ignoring him, the soldier drew the sword at his hip.

“Your name,” he said again. So far he kept the blade tip pointed downward, but he seemed about to jump at any second. Tessanna smiled at him, long hair flowing down the sides of her face.

“Tessanna,” she said at last.

The soldier looked ready to shit himself-whether from fear or surprise, Qurrah couldn’t say. He took a fresh look at Qurrah, and his face paled, showing he knew exactly who stood before him.

“James!” he shouted. “Get the fuck over here, right now!”

The two guards at the wagon turned around. Others around the camp heard the shouting, and seeing the drawn blade they rushed over. Qurrah held his arms out at his sides, hoping to show he posed no danger. Tessanna remained perfectly still, her sly smile receding inward, becoming a calm look of apathy. Qurrah envied her.

“I only travel to meet my brother,” Qurrah said, hoping someone in charge might hear and listen. “We are no threat, no-”

“Quiet,” said an older man who pushed to the front of the gathering crowd. “You, are you the Betrayer?”

Qurrah glared at him even as a wall of swords encased him and Tess. As if they could stop him, he thought.

“I doubt I am the first, nor the last, to have ever committed that particular sin,” he said in answer. Apparently that was enough for the soldier, though, for he turned his attention to Tessanna.

“You said your name was Tessanna,” he said. “The prophet’s bride?”

“I was,” she said, her voice nearly toneless. “But that fiend lives no longer, as will you if you touch a hair on my head.”

“She was never his bride,” Qurrah said, unable to help himself. He hated the title given to her, formed by the twisted story most commonly told around hearths at night. Only once had Qurrah worked up the nerve to ask his brother what the tales said. In them, Qurrah had betrayed Veldaren, his glorious brother, and then the whole world by helping the prophet Velixar summon the war god Thulos. From then on, Qurrah was seen as the hapless puppet and Velixar the true evil. Tessanna was Velixar’s bride, his dark angel, and if the age of the audience permitted, many storytellers liked to embellish the sick, perverted love that had supposedly gone on between them.

“So she wasn’t, was she?” the soldier asked, his glare showing he was an inch away from striking the half-orc. “Let’s see what Bram has to say about that.”

Qurrah sighed. Would it matter telling them Bram knew where they lived, had known for the past five years since he himself had overseen the deeding of the land to them?

“Yes,” he said. “Let us see, but put away your swords for all our sakes. You never know when one might cut a piece of hair by accident.”

Escorted by over thirty men, they walked into the center of the camp. Neither were restrained in any way, and Qurrah sensed the men were too afraid to try such a thing. In many corners of the world Qurrah and Tessanna had become the boogeyman of campfire stories. He could only guess what some of them thought he might do if they laid a rough hand upon him. The way they held their naked blades, it seemed more like they escorted wild bears than a frail half-orc and a short, slender woman. If not for the inherent risk in it, Qurrah felt tempted to growl at them. His brother would have, he thought, and it put a wry smile on his face. He’d growl and wave his arms about like an idiot, just to show he was unafraid of their numbers.

Sometimes he wished he was more like his brother.

At one of many fires they stopped, and the men encircling them gave way. Lord Bram Henley stood waiting, arms crossed over his chest. His hair was long and black, falling down to his broad shoulders. From his right eye down to his chin was a thin straight scar, self-inflicted in the tradition of his family line. If he was surprised to see Qurrah and Tessanna, he did not show it.

“Well now,” Bram asked. “What have you two been doing to stir my camp in such a way?”

“Existing,” Tessanna said, her voice flat.

The rest of the soldiers tensed, but Bram only shook his head and chuckled.

“Of course,” he said, turning to his solders. “Leave us. They are not enemies of Ker.”

None appeared foolhardy enough to argue with their king, so away they went, leaving Qurrah and Tessanna standing before a man they hadn’t seen in several years. To Qurrah’s eyes he looked older, far older than he should have given the relatively short amount of time that had passed. Perhaps being a king aged a man faster, or maybe it was just the stress of always checking the skies for white feathers.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Bram said, sitting back down before the fire in a wooden chair. “Hardly three days ago, I sent riders to your cabin, though I didn’t expect them to return with you in time. That you come to me, well, I’d say it was fate if I believed in that sort of thing.”

“If not fate, then coincidence,” Qurrah agreed. “But what have we come in time for?”

The half-orc looked about but saw no other chairs. Shrugging, he sat on his knees before the fire. Tessanna sat next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. So far she appeared bored, withdrawn. It was a mood she’d fallen into less often over the past few years, but coming back into civilization seemed to have reawakened it.

“I assume you receive little news in your isolated cabin?” Bram asked.

“Little if any,” Qurrah said, neglecting to mention Azariah’s arrival.

“Then I’ll keep details at a minimum as to not overwhelm you. King Antonil marches this way with an army, intent on another foolish crusade to drive the orcs from his native kingdom. Within the hour he should arrive to ask permission to travel through my lands.”

“How does this involve us?” Qurrah dared ask.

“I’d have you at my side when I tell him no,” Bram said. “At least for now. In a few days, perhaps even a few hours, I will let him pass. I only desire to see how he reacts. Trust me, I do not desire war.”

“Forgive me,” Qurrah said, “but I fear my question was not answered.”

“You must realize you mean something,” Bram insisted. “Even with your own brother as Ashhur’s avatar, even with your body made new by the hands of angels, you still will not live under their rule. You came to me for help, for freedom. I need your defiance. I need the people to see we still have a choice.”

“You give us reasons we never had,” Tessanna said before Qurrah could speak. “You tell us our value is in refusing to be puppets, then seek to use us as puppets for your own cause. If you’d stand against Mordan, stand on your own strength.”

Her voice remained eerily calm, but Qurrah could feel the anger growing beneath it.

“I do not wish to use you at all,” Bram said. “I only thought you would agree with my efforts to hold back the angels’ encroachment.”

“Angels?” Tessanna said, the last of her apathy vanishing into a wide-eyed look of fury. “Karak took away my lover, then gave me back a monster. Ashhur took that monster and gave me back my lover. I do not hide from the angels. I do not fear their eyes. It’s men like you I hoped to avoid. Men who would use me, put me on a pedestal and ask others to bow. I’ll take my knife and bleed you all if I must to prevent the prayers.”

At last Bram was taken aback, and he lifted his hands to show he meant no insult.

“You’ll be put on no pedestal,” he said. “And I assure you, no one will bow. But Antonil’s army nears, and you will accompany me as my guests.”

“And if we refuse?” Qurrah asked.

“If you would deny me such generosity, then I will deny my generosity to you. I will revoke your land and declare you unwelcome in the nation of Ker. Only if I must, of course. Surely I do not ask for much in having you stand silent at my side?”

Qurrah looked to Tessanna, to see how she would react. Did it truly matter if they were there or not? Bram wanted them used as figureheads, and nothing more. They could do this one thing, then continue on their way. His wife, though, still appeared furious, and she gave no attempt to conceal it.

“I will have no part in this,” she said, standing. “And neither will Qurrah. I watched him be Velixar’s puppet. He won’t now be yours.”

Hearing this, Qurrah expected Bram to be furious, or to carry out his threat. Instead he sighed and shook his head.

“You’re returning to Mordeina for the first time since the war, aren’t you?” he asked. “Then you don’t understand what it is like. Go then, and see. You won’t understand until you are there. If you flee to my borders, I promise to protect you, so long as you admit your error.”

“What do you mean by that?” Qurrah asked as Bram started to leave.

Instead of explaining, the king gave him a bitter smile.

“Pleasant travels,” he said.

Tessanna stared as he left, as if driving nails into his back with her eyes. Qurrah took her hand, and she whirled on him, her look that of a crazed animal.

“He won’t use us,” she said.

“I know.”

“I won’t let him. I won’t let anyone.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I know. So what do we do now?”

Before she could answer a trumpet blew from beyond the bridge. The soldiers shot into motion, grabbing helmets and readying weapons. Tessanna’s cold hands wrapped around Qurrah’s.

“I want to see,” she said, pulling him along.

Many glared at them, but none were brave enough to stop them as they headed for the road. All along either side gathered Bram’s army, banners carried high, armor polished to a shine. Lost amid the chaos, the two lovers peered down the road, to where King Antonil’s army came riding.