“Nothing beyond the ordinary. It isn’t Antonil’s men I’m unsure of how to deal with. Watch your step, and then look to the sky.”
Bram’s stomach tightened, and he knew what he’d see before he ever looked skyward. Flying in v-formations were several dozen angels. Golden-hued armor glinted in the sunlight, and in their hands were the unmistakable shapes of swords, shields, and spears.
“Do they accompany Antonil’s men, or are they merely seeing them off?” Bram asked, lifting a hand to shade his eyes as he looked.
“So far they have not crossed the border,” Ian said. “They’re merely circling their current position. I’ve ordered our archers ready just in case.”
“In case what? You would spark war while Antonil’s army marches through the very center of our camp?”
Beside him, Ian stiffened.
“Their kind has been banned from Ker,” he said. “Forgive me if I erred in preparing to enforce your laws.”
“We gave Antonil’s army freedom to pass,” Bram said. “One might consider the angels part of that army.”
“Then they should have stated as much. I do not care what any one person might say. What do
Bram stared at the angels, his stomach continuing to twist. It felt like there were stones grinding within him. Just the sight of the creatures was enough to make him feel a flutter of fear. Their size, their speed, their ability to circumvent any standard defensive formation or benefit of terrain…they were so clearly not of Dezrel. The hairs on his neck lifted.
“If they try to fly over, let loose our arrows,” Bram said.
“If they remain as high as they are, we won’t hit them.”
“I’m counting on it. Send them a message, and make it as clear as the message Antonil sent me.”
Together they watched as the remainder of Antonil’s army slowly crossed over the bridge, through the camp, and into the heart of Ker, a great train of wagons marking the last of their passing. It took the greater part of an hour, and all the while the angels circled.
“Do they ever get tired?” Ian asked, still on edge.
“Apparently not.”
So far the angels showed no inclination of following Antonil into Ker. As much as Bram wanted a chance to save face, he felt himself beginning to relax.
“Even if they don’t pass now, they might wait until dark, or perhaps fly farther north beforehand,” Ian suggested while rubbing his neck, which was no doubt sore from spending so much time staring up at the sky. “Bridges mean nothing to their kind.”
“No,” Bram said. “I know them too well. To cross in secret would mean admitting they know what they do is wrong, or should be hidden. If they’re to spit in the face of my laws, they’ll do it here, now.”
Bram’s words caught in his throat. As if they could hear him, one of the angel formations suddenly dipped lower, curling around to fly directly over the bridge. Ian saw it, immediately began running about shouting orders. Bram watched their approach, did his best to calculate the angle. Despite his fury for their insolence, he felt a sudden spike of panic. They were coming in far too low, and would fly within the reach of his archers.
“Belay that order!” Bram shouted, but it was too late. The angels were streaking in at inhuman speeds, and for the past hour the archers had been given a single, specific command: if the angels flew over, let loose with all they had.
Up into the air sailed hundreds of arrows, rising together like an inverse rain. The group of angels, seven in all, flared their wings and tried to rise. It didn’t matter. Bram saw the arrows climb, saw war ready to spill forth before him. News of a dead angel, let alone seven, would be all it’d take for those watching his nation with hungry eyes to put their plans in motion.
And then a shadow tore open in the air, spreading wide like a shield. Within it were a legion of six-fingered hands, their skin shining a translucent purple. They batted at the arrows, snapping them with a mere touch, as above the seven angels beat their wings and lifted higher into the air. The other formations circled close, and Bram could almost taste the tension spreading. When the last of the arrows was a cloud of splinters falling back to Dezrel, the dark collection of hands vanished as if they had never been.
“What in Karak’s name was that?” Ian asked, rejoining his king’s side.
“An undeserved gift,” Bram said. He nodded to the angels. “What do they wait for?”
“They’re discussing,” Ian said, having watched them closely.
“Prepare the archers just in case. I was a fool, but not this time. If they swoop in again, they’ll be coming for blood. If we’re lucky we’ll have them dead before Antonil’s men find out and try to return the favor.”
Before Ian could carry out the order, the angels gathered together into one large formation, turned north, and flew away. Bram closed his eyes, let out a sigh of relief. His army’s presence at the Bloodbrick was meant as a message, a warning. The last thing he truly wanted was war.
“Where are our two guests?” he asked.
“I’ll lead you to them.”
Deep within their camp, the half-orc and his sorceress had been surrounded by his soldiers. So far none of his men had drawn blades or made any threatening motion. Bram understood their confusion. The spell they’d cast had countered an order given by their king, but Bram had also held private conversations with the two prior to Antonil’s arrival. Ian called for them to make way, and realizing their king had arrived, they quickly parted.
“Your archers have terrible aim,” Qurrah said before Bram could open his mouth. “I dare say you frightened them far more than you intended.”
The half-orc was giving him an out, and Bram gladly took it.
“The fault is mine for not giving proper orders, but your magic will frighten them more than my arrows. Move freely through my lands, half-orc, and know you will always be considered a close ally and friend.”
Bram meant it, too. Qurrah had read the circumstances and events correctly and then acted to prevent a war Bram himself had admitted he didn’t want. Such a powerful ally, he thought. If only he could somehow convince the half-orc and his strange bride to stay at his side, to use their intelligence and power for something greater than themselves.
“Your kindness is overwhelming,” Tessanna said. Her hands were wrapped around Qurrah’s arm, hugging him tightly. Bram sensed sarcasm in her words. There was no way for him to know their reasons for protecting the angels, not fully, so he let the matter drop. Instead he tilted his head the tiniest amount to show his respect, then marched away.
“What now?” Ian asked him.
“Now we plan,” he said, heading for his tent. “Word of what just happened will spread through Mordan quickly enough, and whatever the aftermath, we must be ready.”
He glanced to the sky, where the angels were but distant specks.
“Their brashness grows. War is coming, Ian, whether we want it or not. One god has fallen from this land, and the other hungers to possess the rest. How long until they deem our entire nation full of sinners needing repentance by sword?”
“They won’t go that far,” Ian quietly insisted. “I spoke with many angels during the war. We fought alongside them, and they were selfless allies. They cherish life. They embrace peace, and seek only to protect the innocent.”
“That was when we warred against demons,” Bram said, shaking his head. “That was when they knew their purpose. Five years is a long time, Ian. Long enough to forget the past. Long enough to become all too human.”
Bram looked once more to the sky, shook his head and turned away.
7
