The Shadows of Grace

19

“I swear,” Harruq said, stretching his arms behind his back and wincing as his muscles twitched painfully. “We were not meant to travel by air.”

“I find it rather comfortable,” Aurelia said, sitting next to him on the grass, a cozy fire before them. “It murders my hair, but the pace is swift, and the land beautiful.”

“Only reason you’re comfortable is because your angel’s got you held so tight he might as well marry you tomorrow,” the half-orc grumbled. “Me, on the other hand, I must smell since I’m hanging by my arms waiting for a really tall tree to say hello.”

“I weigh less,” Aurelia said, sticking her tongue out at him. “I can’t help if that has benefits.”

“The one truly benefiting is that angel,” Tarlak said as he joined them at their fire. “And let me say, I’d switch positions in a heartbeat.”

“With me or with my angel?” Aurelia asked, winking.

“Always wanted a tryst with a man with feathers,” Tarlak said.

“You both need help,” Harruq said, massaging his wrists. They had traveled for a week, carried by their arms or waists by the angels as they chased the demon soldiers. The day was nearing its end, and so they camped in a wide field beside a creek. The grass was short and thick, and to their aching muscles it felt like a luxurious royal carpet.

“Antonil’s troops are falling behind,” Harruq said, glancing west, where small tufts of smoke many miles away revealed their location. “But I think I’d prefer horseback and marching over this.”

As the sun set, one by one, fires filled the camp and the sharp sound of ringing steel grew in frequency and intensity. Harruq heard the sound and felt an itching in his fingertips. Many angels were sparring, trying to stay sharp amid the countless hours of tedious flight.

“Haern’s not here,” Tarlak said. “But perhaps you can spar with them.”

“Guess I could use a warm-up,” Harruq said as he stood. “After Haern, who here’s going to compare?”

He wandered deeper into the angels’ camp. He felt a little intimidated by their height, and the folded up wings against their backs only enhanced their difference. Strangely timid, he found a trio of angels taking turns sparring and quietly watched them. Their fighting style seemed strange, a jarring mix of brutal strength and careful, weaving feints. After several minutes, one of them saw him watching and nodded.

“Care for an attempt?” asked the loser of the last match. Another angel nearby laughed. Harruq drew his swords and twirled them in his hands. The others stepped away, giving him room to face his opponent, who wielded a large sword in both hands.

“I promise not to hurt you,” Harruq said, a grin on his face. The angel feinted a low slash, shifted his weight, and then swung for Harruq’s shoulder. The half-orc slapped it aside, stepped forward, and placed his other blade on the angel’s neck.

“Don’t patronize me,” Harruq said, his voice deepening into a growl.

The angel’s wide eyes, however, revealed how little he had held back.

“Mortals can’t move that fast,” he said.

“Then you haven’t fought enough mortals,” Harruq said, stepping back and falling into a defensive stance, both his swords at ready. “Again?”

The angel swung. Harruq blocked with both his blades, grunting at the strength of the impact. The angel stepped to the side and then thrust for Harruq’s chest. Instead it cut air, for Harruq spun, smacking aside the blade with his elbow as his own swords twirled above his head. When he finished the spin the angel’s sword was raised high, blocking Condemnation’s chop, but Salvation slipped underneath, its sharp tip jabbing against the top of the angel’s chest piece.

By now a crowd had formed, with a couple laughing and clapping when he scored the hit.

“Let me have a try,” an angel said, grabbing his mace and stepping forward. Harruq bowed, dodged his initial swing, and then smacked him twice in the back. Another competitor approached, wielding a gigantic sword. Again the fight lasted only seconds, with Harruq dancing around a few slow but powerful hits before slapping the angel’s face with Condemnation’s flat edge.

Harruq laughed, feeling adrenaline coursing through him. It felt good, engaged in honest combat with new opponents, though he was beginning to miss Haern. Strong as his opponents were, they relied entirely on that strength. He chuckled, realizing he probably felt like Haern in their early days after he and Aurelia had joined the Eschaton.

“I hear we have a true fighter in our midst,” shouted an angel above the rest. The crowd split, revealing Judarius and his enormous mace. He hefted it onto his shoulder and bowed with his free arm held against his chest. “Care for a duel, half-orc?”

“Been wanting some fun,” Harruq said, twirling his swords. “So let’s go.”

“Give it to him, Har!” Tarlak shouted from outside the ring of angels, having arrived with the crowd. “Just remember, it’s not your life on the line, just your pride. Oh, and your woman!”

Harruq shook his head as he tensed, already deciding who his next opponent would be. Judarius did not attack, instead watching and waiting for the half-orc to make a move.

“Patient, are we?” Harruq asked as the two circled.

“You excel in your reactions,” Judarius said. “You’re faster than you look, and you use that. But what if someone matches you in speed?”

The angel swung, the mace nothing but a blur. Harruq braced his legs and slammed both swords in the way, gasping for air as they connected. It felt like Judarius had swung a boulder at him. Grass tore as his feet slid across the ground. Before he could react the mace was coming in for a second hit. Harruq leaped back, not dumb enough to try another block, but Judarius was ready, lunging in with his elbow leading. Harruq ducked, slashed with Salvation to buy some separation, and then thrust both blades. Judarius’s mace twirled in his hands, batting them away.

Again their weapons crashed into each other, strength versus strength. Harruq grimaced, just barely able to hold back the enormous mace.

“You can’t out-react,” Judarius said. “Your best hope is a stalemate, but I am the stronger. You have no hope of winning.”

“Forgot one thing,” Harruq said as he pushed away the mace and slammed his swords together. “I can get really, really pissed.”

Harruq lunged, roaring like a wild animal released from a cage. Judarius parried the first couple strikes, but Harruq kept coming, his hands a blur. He pressed and pressed, unafraid of the giant mace, until he was close enough to drop Salvation and slam his fist into Judarius’s face. As the angel staggered, Harruq kicked out his legs, blocked a desperate swing with the mace, and then descended upon him, his knees on his throat and Condemnation stabbing into his arm.

This time there were no cheers or clapping. The angels stood stunned, their greatest fighter knocked low by a mere mortal. Harruq stood, sheathed Condemnation, and then offered a hand.

“We’re good at adapting,” Harruq said. “You need to remember that.”

Judarius accepted the hand, but his face was a somber glare as he brushed the dirt and grass from his armor. Blood trickled from his nose.

“I have much to practice, and much to learn,” Judarius said. “That should never happen again.”

He pushed his way through the angels, but before he could leave Ahaesarus was there, blocking his way.

“If we underestimate them, it is always our own failure,” Ahaesarus said. Judarius glanced back at Harruq, shook his head, and then continued on without saying a word.

“I’m sorry,” Harruq said as Ahaesarus approached and the rest of the angels dispersed. “Didn’t mean to upset him.”

“Just as we need to learn of you, you need to learn of us,” Ahaesarus said. “We are not perfect. We have pride and anger and doubt like we did when we served Ashhur on Dezrel. Judarius needed a bit of humbling.”

Ahaesarus led him back to Aurelia and Tarlak, who sat waiting by the fire.

“Now that was great,” Tarlak said, a giant grin on his face. “You did us human types proud.”

“We’re but soldiers made for battle,” Ahaesarus said. “So forgive us if your creature comforts are lacking, and the food poor. It doesn’t appear we will catch the demons. If we cannot gain ground, we will slow our pace and link up with Antonil’s army.”

“It seems that will be the case,” Tarlak said. “Where’d the paladins run off to, by the way?”

Ahaesarus chuckled. “They are discussing what you would refer to as theology with Azariah. I would stay away if I were you.”

“Not much for the particulars?” Tarlak asked. Instead Ahaesarus shook his head and patted his sword.

“Ashhur has given me people to protect and a sword to protect them with,” the angel said. “For me, that is enough.”