the entrance from Mordan into Ker. The southern lords had already been preparing for war before Bram ever contacted them, for they feared the covetous eye of Karak’s priest-king in the north. If it came to battle now, and Antonil’s men had fallen at the Gods’ Bridges, then they were already too late. Against such a formidable host, they had little chance.
Their fears were unfounded, though, for as the army approached the standard of the Golden Mountain shone from winged banner carriers. The ground forces also came into view, and they were clearly not dead but alive, men of Mordan and Neldar.
“Several thousand,” Ian said as they veered off course to meet the approaching army. “At least a thousand winged. Might it be enough to take Mordeina back from Karak’s devil?”
“We need only one man,” said Bram. He veered his horse around a deep patch of grass that grew like a tall pillar, sprouting from a muddy stretch where a spring surfaced. “If Antonil is there, the rest of the northern lords will turn to him, at last finding a unifying name to rally behind. Despite how thin his grasp, he is still their true king.”
“Some king. Within days of his crowning he was riding east with all of Mordeina’s troops to take back his real homeland. He cares nothing for Mordan and her people, and while he was away, he lost everything. Are you sure they will welcome him so openly?”
Bram shrugged. “He was Queen Annabelle’s husband. That is good enough for me. Thrones have been taken for weaker claims than that. And I’d prefer you guard your tongue when we meet him, Ian. We need his aid, not his scorn. If that is how you speak of one king, I fear to know how you speak of your own.”
Ian accepted the reproach and let the subject die. Behind them, their army buzzed with excitement. Many were eager to see the angels, for while a few had seen the demons, none but Ian had seen Ashhur’s celestial warriors. As they neared, their gold armor shining, the noise increased.
“Here is far enough,” Bram said. “We’ll have broken legs with how distracted everyone is. Too many animal holes in the grass.”
A scout approached, lightly armored and swooping low on the wind. Bram remained mounted, and he raised his sword high so the angel might see him among the rest. Beside him, Ian raised the standard of Angkar, a wolf in profile, its eye a bloody red. The angel saw this and banked lower, and then with a great beat of its wings and scattering of feathers, it landed.
“Well met, king of man,” said the angel. His voice had a strange accent to it, as if his vocal chords were not flesh but glass, so clear was his speech. “Are you King Bram, who we have been instructed to meet?”
“I am,” said the king. “And what name may I call you, angel of Ashhur?”
“My name is Horon, and I speak for Ahaesarus, our worldly commander. Would you meet with us, and with our friend, king Antonil of Neldar?”
Bram held in a smirk. What a poor way to introduce the man. Why not king of Mordan, of a land that truly mattered and was friendly to them?
“Our agreement has already been made with King Theo. Bring your men, Horon, and your angels. Let us break bread and share stories, for unless Antonil has changed his mind, we are still allies.”
The angel bowed.
“I will send them forward,” he said. “May Ashhur watch over you, King Bram.”
As Horon flew off, Bram rolled his eyes.
“Only person I want watching over me is you and your sword,” he said to Ian.
“Honored.”
Bram waited for Ashhur’s army to arrive while Ian set about ordering the soldiers, getting tents pitched and fires prepared. They circled the wagons together in the center, preparing to cook what salted meat they had so the few livestock that followed might last several days longer. At least they had plenty to drink, though. Bram personally felt he could live on wine if the need arose. Might even make him a better fighter, given how he over- analyzed everything about his opponent come a battle.
His eyes kept returning to the skies and the winged men. Winged men…how strange. What changes to a siege did that mean? He’d known of lengthy battles, castles held by a mere hundred that fought off thousands. But without walls, without moats, without thick gates of wood and iron…what then? Might Ashhur’s angels fly right over the walls of Mordeina and open the doors for them? He shuddered to think of the demons that approached from the east. He’d kept Loreina back at Angkar where he hoped the castle would provide her safety. Perhaps it would have been better if she’d come with him, or at the least, found a secluded home somewhere along the coast.
When the human army neared, Bram dismissed such thoughts and rode to greet them. He was curious to meet this Antonil. He’d tried to learn what he could, but his stay in the west had been too brief. Antonil had been in charge of Neldar’s forces prior to its destruction, and after the death of their king, Edwin Vaelor, he’d assumed the role of lord and protector over the survivors. His claim to kinghood had been tenuous at best, but then he’d married Annabelle, solving that problem. Bram had thought the man a potential opportunist, taking advantage of the war and destruction to claim control over two kingdoms, but every story he’d heard seemed to indicate Antonil was an almost unwilling partner to the marriage, reluctant to assume his role.
Bram sighed. He wondered which was more dangerous: an egomaniacal, greedy king reaching for everything not his, or a hesitant king unsure of his own rule and forced to accept the responsibilities he should have been raised since birth to endure.
“Find Ian,” he told one of his guards. “I want him near me in case something goes wrong.”
The guard returned with Ian just in time to meet a small group hurrying ahead of the rest. Bram saw one angel flying low, and the rest seemed a strange assortment. One was clearly Antonil, an adequately imposing man (and thankfully older than some of the stories had claimed). Beside him, though…
“Is that an elf?” asked Ian.
“A beautiful elven lass,” said Bram. “Does he have their aid, I wonder? And who is that beside him?”
“Orc blood’s in the giant,” said Ian. “I’d recognize that gray curse anywhere. This Antonil fights with the banned and the cursed. I don’t like it.”
“Angels, too,” Bram said. “Don’t forget them.”
Ian smirked. “I fear they’ll be the worst of the lot. Keep them to their promise. I bow my knee to you, not Ashhur.”
Antonil stepped ahead of the others, and he bowed low but bent neither of his knees. A nice touch. Bram returned the bow, and felt mildly impressed. He waited, deciding to let this new king say the first words.
“Greetings, King Bram. My scout has told me you welcome us with open arms. After so many leagues of travel, I must say those words were a blessing to hear.”
Bram smiled. “And with an army marching toward my northern border, your winged soldiers are an equal blessing.”
He caught the orcish blooded one start to say something, then stop after the elven woman elbowed him. Good, he thought. At least one of the two knew their place.
“I have enemies on all sides,” Antonil said. “Are you sure you desire to welcome my company? I might doom your country, not save it.”
“Will you bleed to defend it?” Bram asked.
“To my dying breath,” said Antonil. “Mordeina is my right, my city to protect. Aid me in retaking it, and I’ll slaughter a hundred men with my own sword to keep your lands safe.”
Bram felt quite pleased. Not the best with words, but the man’s emotions showed plain on his face. He was honest in his desires, and sincere in his ability to kill. The man might be useful after all…
“Come,” he said. “Let us eat! I can’t claim it a feast, but it is a meal, and a chance to rest your tired feet…”
He glanced at the enormous angel that stood behind Antonil.
“…and wings,” he added.
“A n unusual man,” Ian said later that night, when the fires were burning low and the few remaining men not drunk off their feet had begun heading to bed.
“A simple man to understand,” Bram said. “He’s guided by ideals and a loose notion of nobility, yet not bound to them. He’ll be easy to guide our way, so long as we don’t directly contradict his sense of morals.”
Ian tossed another log onto their fire and started smoothing out his blankets.
“And that orc fellow?”
