Half-Orcs: Book 06 - The Prison of Angels (44 page)

“Ashhur help us all,” he said.

He unwrapped the package. The gold of the scepter shone in the moonlight. Daniel lifted it above him and spoke the command word. The blue pillar shot into the sky, the beacon visible for miles upon miles. He stared at it, daring to have hope. Twice more he activated it, and each time he noticed the bird-men below staring up as if mesmerized. He wondered what the creatures’ pathetic brains thought of the light. Perhaps they knew what it meant. After all, they’d coordinated an assault on multiple towers. Despite his years, not to mention his experience, he still hadn’t given enough credit to the beasts.

“Where are you?” Daniel muttered, staring at the sky. He’d never called for the angels before, but this seemed as perfect a time as any. At least he might inform them of the attack, ensuring that the riders he sent to Lord Hemman didn’t have their warnings go unheeded. The minutes passed, interminable due to the constant squawking and screeching.

At last he saw white wings. They were almost above him by the time he spotted them, for they came from the east. Daniel raised his arms, waving, but something was wrong. The wings were even larger than he expected, and as the creature dipped, he realized it wasn’t an angel at all, but a winged horse. Two people rode atop it, their bodies just faint silhouettes. Slowly he lowered his hands, and he felt his innards tighten. Silent, he watched as the horse circled twice, then continued west.

From the horse shot a blinding object. An arrow, Daniel realized, as it smashed into one of the bird-men. It was only one, and then they were gone, flying toward the Castle of the Yellow Rose. The acknowledgement made Daniel feel better, but only by a miniscule amount. At least someone else, one of the elven Ekreissar, apparently, would help spread the tale. Perhaps an army might be raised in time. Perhaps thousands of lives might be spared.

From below he heard the shattering of wood, and he glanced down to see the tower doors had broken. His men fought bravely, using the cramped space of the doorway to their advantage, but defeat was inevitable. He had barely fifty men left. Against three thousand, what could they do?

One last time he used the scepter, calling Ashhur’s name so the light would pierce the night. As it faded, and the starlight replaced it, he let out a sigh. Wherever the angels were, it wasn’t where they were needed. From his limp hand he let the scepter drop. Down the side of the tower it fell, smashing as it hit ground. A puff of blue smoke rose from the pieces, drifting away to nothingness as the bird-men swarmed through the gateway, killing their way ever higher.

At last he heard movement from the hatch, which he’d left open. Drawing his sword, he turned. A single creature came climbing upward, its wings making it difficult for the thing to get a grip on the rungs. Daniel shoved his sword down its throat, then kicked in its beak. It fell, the noise alerting the rest to his presence. The monsters scrambled upward, biting at his thrusts, using their impressive strength to hurl themselves at the hatch, ignoring the ladder altogether. Daniel laughed as he fought, thinking he might be able to kill them off one at a time, brawling as the hours passed and he whittled the thousands down at the ridiculously slow pace.

That thought didn’t last long. One of the bird-men’s beaks locked tight when he stabbed it straight through its throat and into the back of the brain. It fell, hurdling backward so violently that it yanked the sword from Daniel’s hand. Weaponless, he backed toward the edge of the tower, preparing himself. He would not be their food. A single step and off he’d go, falling, the ground to be his killer instead of the freakish leftovers of a long-forgotten war.

The first bird-man made it to the top of tower, but it did not find the easy prey it expected. A heavy gust of air blew Daniel away from the ledge, and then a man came falling from the sky, a long blade in hand. The man, an elf, stabbed the creature through the eye upon landing, then kicked it down to join the rest of the bodies in Daniel’s room.

“That damn girl is going to be the death of me,” the elf said, glancing over his shoulder as he settled into a stance before the hatch. “Consider yourself fortunate for the eagerness of youth.”

Behind him, Daniel heard the winged horse let out a neigh, and when he turned he saw the creature hovering just beyond the ledge. A young woman sat atop it, reaching for him.

“Take my hand!” she shouted, and before he lost his nerve he did just that. His step was not far enough, and as she yanked he fell with his stomach bent over the horse’s back. That appeared good enough, and into the air they shot, leaving the elf behind.

“Don’t take us far!” the girl shouted as Daniel hung on for dear life.

“What?” he shouted back.

“Not you!”

Less than a quarter-mile beyond the tower was a stretch of forest, and the horse landed at its edge. Daniel slipped off, thrilled to be on solid ground. Barely slowing, the pair hooked around and swooped back toward the tower. Daniel watched while on his knees, trying to regain his breath. He felt overwhelmed, pulled back from certain death to a sudden reprieve. At the same time he knew his men were gone, his tower overrun. He didn’t know how to feel, other than sick and exhausted. Even from the forest he could hear the sounds of the bird-men, and it filled him with shivers.

Moments later he saw the horse, and he was glad to see both had survived. They landed with a burst of wind, both the elf and the girl hopping off.

“Are you all right?” she asked him.

“I am, thanks to you,” he said.

“This isn’t good,” said the elf, a frown locked across his features. “Sonowin cannot carry the three of us.”

“Then we run,” the girl offered.

“Indeed.” The elf turned to him. “Except for you. Get back on. Sonowin will take you to safety, if you guide her.”

“No,” Daniel said. “I won’t be a burden like that.”

“You’re not,” said the elf. “I need you to raise an army, and send out warnings to all the nearby villages. At least three towers have fallen from what we’ve seen. It won’t be long before the rest are gone, and the entire North is being overrun.”

Reluctantly, Daniel climbed back atop the horse, wishing there was at least a saddle. The creature swung her head side to side, neighing loudly.

“Head southwest,” he told her. “Can you understand southwest?”

The horse bobbed her head, snorting. Her wings flared wide, and he guessed the intelligent creature did. He looked down at his rescuers. They each stood tall, with long bows in hand.

“What will you two do?” he asked.

“Don’t worry,” the elf said. “Sonowin will come find us. And until then, well…”

He glanced to the girl. Her face was haggard and scarred, and despite looking like she’d endured a nightmare, she smiled.

“Until then, we go hunting,” she said, lifting her bow.

Sonowin’s wings beat harder, and away into the air they went. Daniel watched the two vanish into the forest before turning his attention to where they flew. Leaning closer so the horse could hear his words and see his actions, he pointed in the direction where he thought the nearby castle waited.

“Fly on,” he said, and the horse obeyed.

Daniel settled back in, his arms wrapped around the creature’s neck to keep him secure. Still exhausted, he said a prayer for his dead men, as well as his saviors. It made him sad when he realized he’d never even asked them their names. Perhaps, he thought, if the world was kind, he’d get another chance.

The old soldier shook his head. A kind world. What an insane thought.

Onward they flew, as far behind him the bird-men emptied out from the walls of Blood Tower and continued on, heading for where the farms and villages slumbered.

30

E
zekai circled, staring down at the town of Norstrom as the wind blew through his hair. He should land. He knew he should land. Though no scepter had called for his aid, his fine eyes could clearly see the mob gathering below in the square. That they did not call him was unsurprising. Whenever he talked with the rest of his kind, they said the same. The use of the scepters was dwindling, and exclusively for those in need of healing. Ever since that one night they’d given the humans the justice they desired, things had changed. Deep down, Ezekai knew it’d never be the same. He saw the way the people looked at him. There was fear now, just fear. No love to match the love in his own eyes. That Ahaesarus had repealed the decision, and revoked their right as executioners of the guilty, seemed not to matter.

Still, the mob below was growing, and he could not ignore what was happening. Ezekai dipped his wings, and down to the square he flew, landing with a gust of wind and dust. Over a hundred men and women gathered there, and they begrudgingly made room for his landing. To call the reception cold did not give the icy feeling justice. Quickly he took in his surroundings. In the center, still being built, was another pole. The nearby rope showed its eventual purpose. In the arms of two men knelt a woman, her face beaten and her clothes torn.

“What is going on here?” Ezekai asked, trying his hardest to keep his temper in check.

“None of your concern, angel,” said the same man that had denied him before, back when they’d hung Saul.

“And who are you, to challenge me?”

“Name’s David,” he said. “And we don’t want your justice. We’re capable of doing that ourselves. Bella here’s guilty as sin, and we all know it.”

The crowd gave its enthusiastic support to the statement. The bound woman, however, did her best to rise to her feet, though the two men prevented her from going to him.

“Please,” she yelled to Ezekai. “Please, help me!”

“For what crime do you capture and beat this woman?” Ezekai asked.

“Bella poisoned my little girl!” another woman yelled.

She spoke neither truth nor lie, only an accusation she firmly believed. There’d be nothing useful from her, but Ezekai prodded anyway.

“Poisoned? Why?”

“Jealous,” David said. “We all know it, too. Jealous of Mary’s girl. Bella has no girl of her own, and she’s whored herself about this village trying to get one.”

Bella opened her mouth to speak, but one of the men holding her wrapped his arm about her head, shoving his forearm against her mouth to muffle her words. The crowd took up shouting, demanding her life, demanding she hang. Others called out for her to suffer, and the feeling of loathing and hatred made Ezekai physically ill. His wings shook behind him, tiny vibrations he could not stop.

“Let her speak,” he said, hoping to at least make things right. “Let me hear her words and judge the truth of the matter.”

“We don’t need your truth,” David said. “We’ve got people who saw her doing it.”

“That’s right,” another man said, stepping forward. “I saw her putting shit into the girl’s cup.”

“Me too,” said a third, a heavyset man with a beard. “I asked her what, but she said she didn’t do nothing, but I know what I saw.”

Ezekai’s eyes widened, and he felt pain in his chest. They were lying. Both men, lying about what they saw, all to justify the hatred in their heart. What had this woman done? Was it because she was a whore? Or did the love for Mary’s daughter demand a scapegoat for them, someone to blame?

The man gagging Bella yelled and pulled back his arm. Blood was smeared across the woman’s face from biting him.

“I didn’t do it!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. “They’re liars, all of them, I didn’t do it!”

Her words struck him like a sledge. She spoke truth. Beaten, mocked, hated…and innocent. Yet despite his arrival, men had continued building, frantically setting up the pole with a hook at the top for them to loop the rope about. The other end would be for her neck, to snap her spine and crush her throat.

“She’s innocent,” Ezekai said, first softly, then louder. “Innocent. Don’t you all know what it is you do?”

“Are you calling us liars?” one of the supposed witnesses demanded.

“I am!” Ezekai roared. “I call you fools. I call you bitter and petty. Release that girl, and let those who laid a hand on her in violence step forth.”

“You aren’t in charge here,” David said, and the cries of the crowd affirmed their agreement. “Be gone, angel. We know why the babe died, and we know who did it. Fly away.”

Just a babe, then, not even a child. Fury continued to grow in his breast. Was it an illness? Was it something he could have prevented if only they had swallowed their pride and used their scepter to summon him? How many would die because of their hatred and mistrust?

“Stop it,” Ezekai said as a third man wrapped the end of a rope around Bella’s neck. “I said stop it now. I will not watch an innocent die!”

The crowd yelled louder. The men surrounding Ezekai pulled out whatever weaponry they owned, hatchets and knives and field-worn scythes. They’d been ready for him, the angel realized. They knew he might arrive. For Ashhur’s sake, they probably saw him circling above.

“I said stop,” Ezekai insisted. “Don’t do this. All of you, you’re sick, you’re caught up in this ugliness, this hatred. I won’t allow it. I
can’t
allow it!”