bloodied field.
“For Ashhur!”
T he angels marched back to Mordeina, all the while singing songs of praise. Soldiers and citizens alike flooded the outer walls, desperate to get a glimpse. Many others climbed atop houses and stared, while others ran to the castle, and from atop the hill watched the approach of the golden army. The gates to the city flung open, and a great shout came from the people within.
Lost in their cheers was Haern, who still cried out in pain atop Sonowin’s back. Tarlak watched his approach, and used his magic to float himself down from the wall to the ground below. Gently he took Sonowin’s reins, all the while stroking her neck.
“I saw what you did,” he told the beautiful creature. “We’ll honor you forever.”
He led her back to the gate. At first no one moved to let him pass. The soldiers couldn’t hold back the torrent of people. Someone shouted an order, and then the guards gave way. People flooded out of the city, waving and shouting to the approaching angels. Tarlak tapped his foot and glared. When he realized the outpouring would never cease he waved a hand. The earth before him rose up in a giant spike. Slowly he pushed it forward, using it as a wedge to funnel people to either side. He made it through the gate and into the gap between the walls, where he finally had enough space to draw breath.
“Tarlak!” he heard a voice shout. The voice shouted again, and he realized who it was. He turned and waved to the top of the wall, where Mira smiled back.
“Wait for me there!” he shouted to her. Mira nodded and then spun about, giddy from watching the angels.
He pushed through to the Neldar camps, and it was there he found Bernard gathered with his priests. Many prayed, while others talked amongst themselves. Bernard smiled at the sight of them, but that smile vanished when he saw the severity of Haern’s injuries and the damage done to Sonowin’s wing.
“Your wing will have to wait,” he said to Sonowin as he hooked his arms around Haern’s chest and gently pulled him to the ground. Haern screamed, tears pouring down his face. His skin was pale, and cold sweat covered his body.
“I’d say he’s endured worse before,” Tarlak said. “But I’m not sure that’s true.”
Bernard gently applied pressure with his hands on Haern’s wrist, watching for a reaction. From there he moved down to his chest and then his legs. He prayed as he did so, but even his prayers halted at the breaks he found all throughout his body.
“Nothing fatal,” Bernard said when he finished. “But so many broken bones and bruises, his pain must be unbearable.”
Haern moaned, his head tilting side to side. Tarlak looked away, his gut wrenching at the sight of his friend suffering.
“Can you heal him?” Tarlak asked.
“I will try,” Bernard said. “It will take many days, and I fear he may never fully recover.”
A fresh shout of cheers flooded the city as the angels neared.
“Speaking of miracles,” Tarlak said, chuckling.
“Indeed,” Bernard said. The mage frowned, confused by the priest’s subdued reaction.
“Something wrong?” he asked. Bernard did not answer, instead praying to Ashhur while he laid his hands on Haern’s waist. Inside his body the bones snapped and shifted. Haern shrieked and then, thankfully, passed out.
“Nothing is wrong,” Bernard said, letting out a deep sigh. “The angels you see approaching are what we all pray and hope to be after our deaths, but they are not meant for this world.”
Bernard put his hands on the bruises covering Haern’s neck and closed his eyes. More healing magic flowed, the bruises fading from deep black to a barely visible blue.
“Our world is changing, though,” Bernard said. “Perhaps this last sign will be enough.”
T he angels entered the city like glorious conquerors returning home from a distant campaign. People raised their hands and cheered, while soldiers saluted with their swords and maces. The Eschaton walked amid them while Antonil’s men rode behind.
“What’s wrong?” Aurelia asked as they marched through the city toward the castle.
“It just seems all so… silly,” Harruq said as he gestured to the crowds.
“Just enjoy it,” Aurelia said, jabbing him in the side. “For once we’re loved and not hated.”
“This isn’t love,” Harruq said. “I’m not sure what it is, but it isn’t love.”
Queen Annabelle waited for them at the doors to her castle. Guards flanked her sides, all of them kneeling to the coming angels. The queen curtseyed at their arrival.
“Welcome,” she said, knowing her words would be repeated throughout the city. “You are the light from the west, the glory of the sun, Ashhur’s warrior angels sent to save us from Karak’s vile hand. All that I have is yours. All that you ask, I will do. Again, I cry to you, welcome!”
The crowd cheered. Ahaesarus bowed low.
“Well met, Queen,” he said. “For all my troops, I thank you for your hospitality.”
“Will you stay in my castle?” she asked. “I have many questions.”
“I will answer your questions,” he said. “But no, we will not stay in your castle. Ashhur has already granted us a home.”
At this he pointed to the western sky. It still shimmered gold, glowing from the angels’ arrival. As if on command the sky rumbled, and all throughout the city people marveled or cowered in fear. Harruq squinted with a hand over his eyes, trying to see. Again the west tore. It was as if the sky were cloth covering a window, and with the blue gone they could see a land stretching forever, golden and beautiful. From within that tear a city floated through, hovering on rock and stone that seemed impervious to the pull of gravity.
“Another miracle,” Lathaar said, his jaw dropping.
“Today seems to be a day for them,” Jerico said, laughing.
“Ashhur has given us a piece of the golden eternity to call our home,” Azariah explained as they looked upon the golden city floating high above. “It is there we will live and plan our war against those that would crush all life from this realm.”
As the rest of the crowd cheered, Bernard sadly shook his head from his perch beside Tarlak and Mira atop a stone house.
“Faith and choice,” he said. “Farewell.”
17
A ntonil walked through the hallways of the castle, feeling as if he walked on clouds. What had been a final, desperate defense had turned into a dominating victory. Instead of funeral songs there were victory chants. It was as if no one realized that the leaders of Karak’s army survived, and that deep inside Veldaren the portal still remained open, pouring out demons.
He turned right at the painting of a large, leafless tree, per the servant’s orders. He had been asleep in his tent among the Neldaren refugees when a young man had approached, giving him directions through the castle and telling him the queen waited. Sure enough, as the hallway suddenly ended, there she was. They were in a walled garden, with a few trees and several rows of flowers. The queen sat on one of the benches, gazing up at the stars.
“It is too early for most of the flowers to be in bloom,” she said at his arrival. “But I still find peace here.”
“The time is late,” Antonil said as he shifted his eyes upward. He realized it wasn’t the stars she looked at, but the twinkling city that floated like some golden land of a child’s fable. Avlimar, Ahaesarus had called it. Their home on Dezrel.
“I know,” said the queen. “But this matter is urgent. The angels want to give chase before the demons can escape back to Neldar. My soldiers are eager to join them.”
“You’ve already pulled in stores of food,” Antonil said. “You could have your army marching within a day. What is the problem?”
