twisted it, and then flung her aside.
“You bastard!” Harruq screamed, legs pumping. Aurelia rolled off the desk, and then Harruq was there, his swords blocking the downward thrust of the assassin. Their blades connected, but Harruq’s body felt more alive than it had in ages. Compared to Thulos, the man’s speed was nothing, his skill substandard, and with a single looping cut he batted aside the assassin’s defenses and then stabbed his swords deep into his chest. Roaring out his fury, he kicked the body back and then settled into a defensive stance over his wife.
“Stay back!” Kevin screamed as the lone assassin rushed to the stone dome. Fire circled around the man’s hand, just over the hole at the top. “Stay back, or they die!”
Harruq froze, horrified by the thought of his beloved Aubby burning to death. Kevin saw that hesitation, and the victory was clear in his eyes.
It died the moment Aurelia flung a lance of ice across the room, its sharp point ripping through the last assassin’s chest, spilling innards across the floor.
Kevin lifted his sword in defense. Harruq stalked closer, and if not for the death around him he might have laughed. Aurelia gave him no chance to show the man how outclassed he was. Ice shot from her fingers, several bursts that wrapped around his wrists and ankles, pinning him to the wall. In vain he struggled against them, his sword clattering harmlessly to the floor.
“That’s it,” Kevin said, face turning red from his struggling. “Bring the angels. Have them hold me trial. You want to see riots? You want to see who the people truly believe in all this?”
“Not you,” Harruq said. “Not anymore.”
With one single swing he let out all his fury, all his exhaustion and sorrow. Condemnation cut clean through his neck, severing Kevin’s head. It hit the ground with a sickening
“Fucking lunatic,” he said, shaking his head.
He heard Aurelia let out a cry, and he turned. She’d rushed to the dome, and with a wave of her hand moved aside the rock. Tears ran down her face as the two children flung themselves against her, holding on with desperate strength while they cried. Harruq wanted to relax, wanted to go to them, but they weren’t safe just yet. He checked the door, ensuring it was locked, then wondered when the remaining soldiers might come looking for Kevin. No doubt he’d wanted Susan’s death to come about in private, where no one could contradict him to the angels. Perhaps that might buy them time…
“Harruq?” said a voice. The half-orc turned, unsure where it’d come from. He saw Ahaesarus leaning into the window, one foot on the ledge, his wings flapping to keep him balanced. He was too big to fit inside, but he could see within.
“I saw the scepter,” the angel said as Harruq approached. “The doors are locked, and they would not allow me entrance.”
“You’re about five minutes too late,” Harruq said. “Kevin’s dead. His men attacked the castle, hoping to usurp the throne.”
A shadow spread across the angel’s face as he listened.
“Are you safe where you are?”
Harruq glanced about, shrugged.
“Safe as anywhere in this castle.”
“Good.” Ahaesarus pushed off from the ledge.
“Where are you going?”
The angel leader drew his sword.
“To get more of my kind,” he said.
With that, Ahaesarus flew away. Staggering toward Aurelia, Harruq passed Susan’s body. He leaned down once, put a hand on her face so he might close her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Thank you for trusting me. I’m sorry I didn’t do better. I should have. I…”
He let it go, instead went to his wife. He fell to his knees beside her, wrapping her in his arms.
“I thought we’d lose her,” Aurelia said, glancing over at him. Tears ran down her face, but she’d composed herself well enough.
“Never,” Harruq said, kissing her forehead before taking Aubrienna into his arms, where she curled up against his chest.
“Never again.”
29
Daniel stood in the top floor of the Blood Tower, feeling very old. It’d been eleven years since Sir Robert had died and control of the Wall of Towers passed over to him. Staring out the window at the river beyond, he wished anyone else had taken his place in the aftermath of the Gods’ War. Someone younger, someone with energy. Because as he watched in vain for another boat to return, knowing it would not, he felt too damn tired to do anything about it.
“This is your fault, Antonil,” he muttered as he turned away. “For once, couldn’t you have looked to this country’s defense instead of your old home’s?”
For years he’d requested more soldiers, and for years he’d been denied. At first it was because everyone was needed to help rebuild the land. Then came the first failed campaign to retake the east, followed by the even larger second. And through it all, good men, men he needed to man the boats and patrol the wildlands of the Vile Wedge, were instead sent to die in a foreign land. Whenever someone would whisper the title The Missing King, Daniel had always made sure his ears were deaf to it. The last thing he wanted was to punish one of his few men for saying something he actually agreed with.
Daniel descended the steps of the tower and stepped out into the bright light of the full moon. His two hundred men were out and about, as per his orders. Something was amiss. He felt it in his gut, and so he’d kept them awake, not even bothering to assign shifts. The signs were too similar to before, made all the more frightening by their suddenness.
“Has Johnson returned?” Daniel asked as he approached the docks. Several men were gathered there, and they all shook their heads.
“Not yet,” said one of the men. Daniel was hardly surprised, but he tried not to let his frustration show.
“Keep looking,” he said. He spun, making his way to the wall that surrounded the tower before dipping into the shallower portions of the river. He climbed the steps, then looked out across the Gihon. Patrols walked past, and he squinted against the light of their torches. Two days ago it had started. There’d been no warning. No casualties, no reports of deaths like when the wolf-men first started preying on the people of Durham, marking their eventual assault. No, one night his boats simply had not returned. He sent out two more, one north, one south. The one north had been a patrol, the one south to check with Tower Red to see if they had encountered anything unusual.
The northern boat never returned, and so far they’d yet to receive word from the south. Glancing at the full moon, he felt the pale orb put fear into his blood. Something was definitely wrong, and no matter what it might be, he didn’t have the manpower to fight it. An hour before he’d sent out a rider to the Castle of the Yellow Rose to plead for aid from Lord Hemman. Beyond that, there was little he could do but wait and pray.
“Sir!” one of the patrolmen shouted, rushing alongside the wall and waving his arms to get his attention.
“Yes?” Daniel asked, turning.
“A boat at the docks!”
Daniel felt his tension easing. Perhaps it wasn’t as dire as he thought.
“Is it Johnson, or someone from Red?”
“I don’t know,” said the soldier. “I just saw it from the wall.”
Daniel climbed down the steps to the ground, and he saw many other soldiers hurrying toward the docks as well. He couldn’t blame them, a bunch of nervous men stuck armed and ready with nothing to do but wait. The crowd parted easily enough, and when Daniel caught sight of the boat his hopes were dashed. The man from Tower
