soldiers travelling behind them. Thulos himself must be whipping their tails given how fast they march.”
Ahaesarus spread his wings. They were mere minutes from the wall, and slowing down to form ranks. The battle was upon them.
“Come with me,” Ahaesarus said, offering his hand to Aurelia. Judarius offered his arms to Harruq, who grudgingly accepted.
“Don’t drop me, eh?” he said.
“I’ll try,” said the angel. “Though all those losses in sparring might have loosened my grip a little.”
Harruq glanced to Tarlak, who only shook his head and laughed a hollow laugh.
“Be safe you two,” the wizard said. Then they were gone, soaring into the air in the arms of the angels. Harruq felt a momentary spell of dizziness at the sudden height, followed by exhilaration. That exhilaration turned to fear when they turned to see the great host giving chase. The war demons fluttered into ranks, hovering over the lines of warriors. Harruq craned his head to watch Antonil and Bram rearrange their own forces into two lines. One enormous line moved toward the city gates. A much smaller line remained put, and it seemed like it would be only a stumbling block against the attackers.
Harruq said a quick prayer for those chosen to be in that last line, then looked to the sky. They climbed higher and higher until they were far above the city, and the battlefield below looked like a collection of ants scurrying toward one another. Avlimar glittered before him, stunning in its golden beauty and pearl walls.
“Wait here,” Judarius said as he set the half-orc down on one of the large clearings along the outer edges, designed for the angels to easily land and take wing from. Ahaesarus arrived with Aurelia moments later, and she smiled at Harruq as she stepped onto the comforting stone.
“We will fight only a little while in the air,” Ahaesarus said as Judarius flapped his wings and took off. “Then we will retreat further in. Ashhur’s blessing permeates every single brick and hall. It is within here we will make our stand.”
“If you see a demon carrying a priest of Karak, you let him land, eh?” Harruq said. “I want the privilege of killing Velixar, not some very, very long fall.”
“I will consider,” said the angel before joining the rest of his kind.
Suddenly they were alone, the city calm and empty behind them. Only the angels flew circles about, spread wide to exaggerate their numbers. Aurelia took his hand as they stood to watch.
“Stay with me,” she said. “Please, just stay with me until the end.”
He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
“Until the end,” he said.
“T hey flee to their golden city,” Thulos said as the angels of Ashhur took flight. Velixar watched as he strode alongside the war god at the front of the army.
“Just the angels,” he said. “What plan do they have?”
“The height,” Thulos said. He pointed to where the rest of the army hurried toward the walls. “If we assault the ground troops, they will dive down atop us. In aerial combat, this is equivalent to us putting our backs to their blades. Too great a risk for a fight we are set to win. Let them choose their place of combat. Their blood will stain gold as well as grass.”
Velixar nodded as he watched the angels fly. He cast a spell to enhance his vision, hoping to better see their numbers. As they flew, he felt a smile spread across his ever-changing face. There, hanging in the arms of one of the angels…
Harruq. It had to be.
“Who will command the ground troops?” Velixar asked.
Thulos gave him a surprised look. “I presumed it would be you.”
“Give the honor to Myann. He has been cross ever since our failure at the Bloodbrick. I wish to go with you.”
“And why is that, prophet? Do you desire to slay angels? Are mere mortals no longer worthy of your judgment?”
Velixar made sure he answered in total calm.
“There is one among the angels whom I have long sought after. I wish him to join me, or die at my feet. He helped bring you into our world, and he deserves a chance to repent.”
“Repent?” asked Thulos. “You are a strange one, Velixar. So be it. I will give Myann control. You may come with me in the arms of my demons. Just do not get in my way, nor presume my warriors will give any reprieve. If your…friend dies at their hands, do not bring the matter to me.”
Thulos raised a fist and shouted orders. Velixar ignored him, instead pushing through the ranks of his undead until reaching where Qurrah and Tessanna marched hand in hand. He frowned at such contact, and a single thought to the half-orc forced him to let go.
“We go to the golden city,” he said, unable to contain his joy. “We go to end this once and for all. Your brother and your lover, Qurrah; they will both be there. Let us see just where your heart truly lies.”
He flagged down a demon and ordered others to be brought with him. The demon cursed him but obeyed. Two more arrived, and in their arms, the three soared with the rest into the air, flying higher and higher toward the angels of Ashhur. Velixar gave his undead a single order, one they would follow until they beat their fists against the walls of Mordeina: slay the living before you.
“A glorious day,” he shouted to Qurrah, who was too far away to hear due to the roaring wind in their ears.
The three carrying them stayed back as the forces collided. The demons swung their glaives and flung their spears, spilling blood like rain to the ground far below. The angels weaved and cut just as viciously, and Velixar felt the exhilaration growing within him. He wished to help but could not, not until they were closer and he felt firm ground beneath his feet. The angels merged from their spread out pattern into a thin stream of warriors, and they sliced through the demon ranks like cloth.
Then Thulos arrived. An enormous pair of crimson wings stretched from slots in the armor on his back, and he cut angels down left and right, tumbling their severed bodies to the battle below. After he killed a score, the rest retreated into the city in a stream of feathers and gold armor. The demons carrying the three closed in, and on one of the many landing platforms set them down.
“Stay with me,” Velixar said to the two. Shadows sparked off his fingertips, as if unable to contain the killing magic he so desperately wished to unleash. “Aid me in killing the angels, Qurrah. Let us put your strength to good use.”
T arlak stood between the paladins, watching the army approach. They were but a thousand, a thin line to catch the brunt of Thulos’s strength. All around the men stood with grim faces and naked blades.
“I can slow and disrupt the charge,” Tarlak said. “Once they’re here, just keep me alive and my spells will tear them to pieces. Oh, and don’t die yourselves, all right?”
“We’ll try our best,” Jerico said. He saluted the wizard. “But try to keep us alive as well. It only seems fair.”
“What, I have to kill great hordes of attackers and babysit you two? Now you’re asking too much.”
Lathaar started chuckling, but not at Tarlak’s joke. When he couldn’t stop, Jerico asked him what was so humorous.
“Don’t you see?” he said, pointing to the coming throng.
“See what?” asked Jerico.
“His army. Nearly half of it is undead.”
“More undead?” Jerico’s face spread into a wicked grin. “Is that so?”
They lumbered closer, poorly armed and armored, and only a few hundred yards away.
“Personally, I’m sick of killing undead,” Tarlak said, fire bursting around his hands. “But you two have the time of your lives.”
He hurled balls of fire, which soared across the distance and detonated, roasting tens at a time. He followed up with a pair of boulders he ripped out of the ground behind him, sending them crashing through the ranks. All around, the soldiers saw Tarlak’s display and cheered.
“Getting close,” Jerico said.
“I know,” Lathaar said.
He sheathed his shortsword and held his longsword with both hands. With his eyes closed, Lathaar prayed to
