Several minutes later, the gate to the city opened, and the first of many bent their knee.
“Find out who their former lords were,” Thulos said as he sheathed his sword and turned to Velixar. “Choose the most loyal and execute the rest. Use him to call back the ships. They might have goods that would be of use to us.”
“As you wish,” Velixar said, smirking as he bowed. The smirk hid his exhaustion, but Tessanna could see it by the dimness of his eyes. How many undead did he command, she wondered. How many thousands?
As the soldiers from Angelport flooded forward, eager to ransack the city, Tessanna listened to the worshipful cries that rang out, urged on by Velixar.
Karak! they cried.
Karak!
Karak and the War God!
Alone, seemingly forgotten, Tessanna cried as another city fell.
13
A ntonil’s and Theo’s men passed over the eastern of the Gods’ Bridges, into the delta, and then camped before the western bridge, just outside the limits of Ker. There they trained and waited, waiting for confirmation from King Bram to enter. Two weeks later Theo received the order he’d been hoping for: prepare the defenses. The bridge was theirs to hold.
“T his is hopeless,” Harruq said to Tarlak as they watched Theo’s men dig trenches on both sides of the bridge. “Surely you see that.”
“That’s a mean thing to do, calling our only hope hopeless,” said the wizard. He removed his hat and scratched the top of his head. “Shame you’re right. I’ve been working on Antonil, but he’s starting to get a bit of that noble calling in his blood. I think he’s worried that, should everything go well, Theo will take all the glory and leave him looking the coward.”
“Or Theo will die like we know he will, hardly slowing the demons.”
Tarlak shrugged. “Yeah, that’s likely. What’s worse is we don’t have a clue when this Thulos will even show up. Would be rather embarrassing if Theo’s provisions ran out and he starved to death waiting to make his glorious last stand.”
Past the bridge was a small cluster of trees that could just barely be called a forest, and the two Eschaton leaned against the trunks while watching the preparations.
“Been thinking,” Harruq said. “You know we’ll never get paid for all this. We’re the lousiest mercenaries ever.”
“Says you. I plan on marrying Antonil’s daughter and becoming heir to the throne.”
“Antonil doesn’t have a daughter.”
Tarlak gestured to the soldiers everywhere.
“If I can haul us from one side of the world to the other in hopes of surviving a horrendous war without having yet been paid a single coin, I think I have the patience to wait on Antonil to marry and have himself a daughter of suitable age. Either that, or get one disgustingly large tract of land donated to me after we retake Neldar. I might be all right with that.”
Both shared a chuckle while the preparations continued. Harruq pointed to the ditches.
“Those won’t do much against flying enemies.”
“You feel like going and telling them that?” Tarlak asked.
“Not really.”
“Telling them what?” asked Antonil as he joined them. He wore simple clothing, lacking his filigreed armor and helm.
“That this fool’s errand will get us all killed,” Harruq said.
“I disagree,” Antonil said, crossing his arms and standing beside them. “They’ll need to use this bridge if they’re to march any soldiers into Ker. And even if they don’t, they’ll still try to crush them. He can’t leave them at his backside, disrupting any possible supplies and threatening raids. Besides, I know a thing or two about pride. King Vaelor would never have let such a challenge go unmet, and I can’t imagine a god having less pride than a man, king or not.”
“A hard gamble to risk the lives of so many on,” Tarlak said.
Antonil sighed. When he spoke, his voice had softened.
“I know. Which is why I will not make that gamble. My soldiers are going with the angels to Mordan. Those who wish to can stay, but I must retake Mordeina. Queen Annabelle entrusted me with the lives of her soldiers in hopes of saving my country, and in return her own city was conquered, her life taken. I owe her and her people much…more than I can ever repay. Let Hensley die, or even become a hero to be worshipped for all time. I just don’t want to be known as a failure king, the one who left and lost his throne while suffering defeat after defeat…”
Harruq put his hand on Antonil’s shoulder and shook him.
“Enough depressing chatter,” he said. “We’ll do what we can. That’s all we can ever do, right? But I’ll go with you, and if the world hasn’t forsaken us yet, we’ll plant your butt on that throne in no time.”
“I’m going too,” Tarlak said. “Can’t let you get too far away, not with how much gold you owe me.” He smiled a painful smile. “Besides, someone there killed Haern, and I want to make him pay. Fire. Lots of fire. Sound like a plan?”
Antonil stared into the distance, seeing nothing of his surroundings, just a horrific image of them trying to assault the enormous walls of Mordeina while priests and undead fought against them.
“Good a plan as any we have,” he said.
A ntonil’s men packed up their tents and bundled their belongings. Mira had little of her own to prepare, so instead she watched, strangely fascinated. Most looked relieved, though a few exchanged worried looks, always with others that were preparing to stay. Her path through the camp took her to the soldiers of Omn. There she heard whispers, curses, comments that confused her all the more.
“Cowards.”
“Snake bellies.”
“Why would you be a soldier if you’re scared to die?”
“Antonil’s not a real king. Wasn’t born into it. Theo, he knows a king’s true responsibility…”
Shouts reached her ears, and she turned to them. Several men had broken into a fistfight, and no one seemed eager to stop it. She thought of doing so herself, but then Ahaesarus arrived, thrusting the men apart and calming them with a word. He remained when the others separated, so Mira joined his side before he could fly away.
“They’re so scared,” she said to him. “Yet so many are angry as well. I don’t understand.”
Ahaesarus put a hand around her shoulder and smiled.
“They are right to be scared, and their anger is born out of that fear.” He led her away from the noise and the shouting, toward the edge of the Rigon River. The water lapping against the sides as he folded his wings and sat.
“Why?” Mira asked, sensing he was ready to talk.
“Because those who stay behind expect to die, and those who leave know they are escaping that death, though they go on no less dangerous a path.”
“And where am I to go?”
Ahaesarus seemed amused by the question. “Why, what you choose to do, as it is in all things.”
Mira frowned. It seemed simple, but it didn’t answer her question.
“The men who stay, are they truly doomed to die?”
The angel sighed. For a long time he stared across the water, as if mesmerized by something on the far side.
“Yes,” he said.
“Why?”
