ease. This was what he knew. Parry, dodge, thrust, counter. Weapon colliding against weapon, strength meeting strength. What madness had made Antonil think he could handle constant requests for money he did not have, justice he did not understand, and soldiers he could not give?
“You’ve slowed,” Judarius said, feigning an attack but then assaulting anyway. The mace came slamming in, and it took all of Harruq’s strength to stand against it.
“I’m getting old. Happens to the best of us.”
“You? Old?” Condemnation swung through the air inches from the angel’s chestpiece. “You have elf blood in your veins. I think you have a good fifty years more before you can consider yourself worthy of a few gray hairs.”
It was something Aurelia had mentioned long before, and it still struck Harruq as odd. It also made him annoyed. So he was just out of practice, then, too lazy and stressed to perform the exercises Haern had taught him. He thought back to when he’d fought the demon god, Thulos, standing against him even when the angels could not. He was pretty sure that old Harruq would wallop the current one, and the aggravation sent him on the offensive, a constant assault that Judarius still blocked with ease.
“You won last we fought,” Judarius said. “What happened?”
He finally leapt into the air, his great wings flapping to launch him several feet backward. He landed beside the wall of the courtyard, his wings knocking over two different flower vases. They hit with dull thuds but did not break. Harruq winced anyway.
“I think they’d make me pay for that,” he said.
Judarius gave him an incredulous look.
“We spar, yet all you can think about are flowers? Perhaps you should have stayed on your throne.”
Harruq settled into a stance, his swords crossed before him as he struggled to regain his breath.
“You haven’t scored a hit yet,” he said, trying to keep his temper in check.
“I haven’t tried.”
“If you won’t try, then you’re right, I should have stayed on the throne. After all, I’d hate to waste my time.”
A bit of disappointment flashed in Judarius’s eyes. His chiseled body tensed, and he readied his mace.
“Careful,” he said. “It isn’t wise to taunt an angel.”
Harruq smirked.
“Nor a half-orc.”
Judarius used his wings to add to his momentum, hurtling across the courtyard with his mace in full swing. For a brief moment Harruq felt afraid, but his pride pushed it away. Legs tensed, mouth pulled into a snarl, he flung both his blades in the way of the mighty weapon.
The shock of the hit stole his breath away, and he flew several feet back, colliding with a marble pillar built near the outer ring of the garden. Harruq slumped against it, leaning his head back and laughing.
“Lost my edge in fighting, too,” he said. “Good to know I’m now worthless everywhere.”
Judarius approached, his mace flung over his shoulder. There was no joy in his eyes despite his victory.
“You’re more troubled than I thought,” he said. “Is it really so terrible?”
Harruq let out a sigh as he closed his eyes.
“I was prepared for it to be tough,” he said. “But this is still so much worse than I ever could have believed. Everyone looks to me as if I wield so much power, yet in truth I’ve never felt more helpless in all my life.”
He waved his hands about, gesturing to where servants were watching, ready to come to him at a moment’s notice.
“Never alone,” he said. “Never in need. Never allowed to go beyond the castle without guards. Our kings are prisoners, Judarius. No wonder so many turn mad and bitter.”
The angel set the mace down, then sat opposite Harruq, his wings folding behind his back.
“Do not feel you are alone in this,” Judarius said. He frowned, looked away as if embarrassed. “I once led armies, commanding angel legions into battle against the demons of our kind. I even faced the mad god, testing my might against him. Yet now what am I? Who do I command, and what enemies do I fight against? All I know is war. All I have been taught is strategy and conquest. And now, here in this peace, I am lost. I am without purpose.”
“You protect mankind.”
“From themselves,” the angel said, shaking his head. “Our enemies are our friends, our friends our enemies. There are no battle lines. There are no sides. If this is a war, it is one I fear I am losing. I have told Ahaesarus that this cannot go on, but he insists.”
Harruq was surprised to hear that the angels shared such similar concerns. For some reason he’d thought their opinions would be unanimous, but that showed a mindset so many others had, that the angels were all one and the same. But Judarius and Azariah, both brothers, were about as far apart as Harruq was to Qurrah. His mind drifted, thinking of what the arguments must be like up in Avlimar when the entire angel host gathered…
“Milord?”
Harruq turned, then pushed himself to his feet as he realized the queen stood at the entrance to the garden. She wore a soft yellow dress, and the sunlight shone off her thin crown.
“I’m not your lord,” he told her. “You’re the one in charge here, and you of all people should know that.”
A smile tugged at her lips, but it vanished far too quickly.
“I…” she stopped, glancing at Judarius. “I fear I bring troubling news.”
“What?” Harruq asked.
“It’s only a rumor, but I believe there is truth in it. Harruq…some villagers were attacked by an angel.”
Harruq’s mouth dropped open. He looked to Judarius, dreading the angel’s reaction, but so far he remained calm, his eyes locked on Susan.
“Go on,” Judarius said.
“I’ve yet to hear a consensus as to where, but it was a village in the south, near the border to Ker. There was a disagreement over the punishment of a criminal, though I can’t say the exact nature of it. The angel drew his blade against them. Most say none were hurt, but a few are claiming otherwise.”
Harruq sheathed his swords, keeping his hands on the hilts, wishing he could feel the same release of tension as when he first stepped out into the yard. If an angel attacked innocent villagers, for any reason, then the protests would spread. Susan’s brother would leap on it immediately, spreading word of the tyranny from the heavens. And as things spiraled worse and worse, both sides would look to him, expecting him to fix it. Expecting him to have the answers.
He turned to Judarius, but before he could speak the angel interrupted him.
“I will discover what I can,” he said. “We must not let the kingdom be divided over rumors and lies. Be patient for the truth, Harruq. When everything is known, we will decide the fates of all involved.”
Judarius dipped his head toward the queen, then soared off into the sky, heading straight for the distant glimmer that was Avlimar. Harruq watched him go, feeling panic creep around the corners of his mind.
Susan took his hand, and he flinched as if shocked.
“You’ll be fine,” she told him, her eyes on Avlimar. “Don’t worry. I’ll always be here.”
She kissed his cheek before retreating back into the castle.
“I can’t do this,” Harruq whispered. He looked ever higher. “You hear me, Ashhur? I can’t do this. You’ve got to help me out here. Because…”
He swallowed, felt a chill spreading through his veins.
“Because this will all crumble if you don’t.”
9
Small squads of Bram’s soldiers had followed them at all times, saying nothing, only ensuring that as the week passed Antonil’s army never tarried on their way to the eastern side. Sticking to the roads limited what they could see of Ker, which disappointed Tarlak. Through their rapid travel he saw a healthy land, with not a hint of the wreckage that had waylaid Mordan, brought forth by both demons and rebellion.
