Half-Orcs: Book 06 - The Prison of Angels (10 page)

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

I
t was the happiest day of Jessilynn’s life, broken only by momentary terror every time Sonowin banked one way or another, forcing her to hold Dieredon tighter lest she fall. Given how they flew high enough to pierce the clouds, it would be a very, very long fall.

“You’d catch me, right?” she asked Dieredon, needing to shout directly into his ear to be heard over the wind that ripped at their hair and clothes. She sat bareback atop the winged horse, with nothing to hold onto but the elf’s waist, which she kept in a deathlock.

“If you fell?” Dieredon asked, glancing back at her.

She nodded.

“Most likely,” he said. He stared at her, then gently tugged on the reins. Sonowin’s great wings shifted angle, and they dipped lower with a stomach-churning lurch. When they leveled out, the clouds were far above them.

“Is it easier to breathe now?” he asked.

Meekly, Jessilynn nodded.

“I didn’t want to complain,” she said, and she meant it. Her excitement was great, and she hated to spoil it just because her head felt strangely light, or because her stomach seemed ready to empty the little remnants of her breakfast across miles and miles of faded grass.

The land rolled along as they flew north. Jessilynn spent a moment with her eyes closed, her forehead resting against Dieredon’s back. Slowly her stomach calmed, the world seeming to spin a little bit less. Rejuvenated, she looked out over the land and felt her spirit soar. Nothing compared to flying like a bird, seeing the shifting of the rivers and the entire limits of vast forests. Carefully she leaned a little to the right, to better see past Sonowin’s bobbing head.

“Is that it?” she shouted, almost pointing before thinking better of it.

“If you mean the gorge, then yes. We’re almost to the Bone Ditch.”

It was surreal seeing it from such height, a place that had been nothing more than a story to her while growing up. It was said that when Celestia created the orcs, she split the land, starting at where the Rigon flowed out of the northern mountains. It was a massive chasm now, the rock a faded red, the cliff faces sheer. At the very bottom the Rigon flowed along, steady as ever. The great span and deadly fall had been one of the most significant protections the eastern land of Neldar had against the creatures that had been trapped there. But during the Gods’ War the orcs within had been loosed, the prophet using his dark magic to aid their crossing.

“What do we do when we arrive?” Jessilynn asked, thinking of the bridges the orcs had supposedly constructed over the past few years.

Dieredon gave her a strange look.

“Land.”

Sonowin banked lower, and the growing proximity to the ground increased her sense of speed. The great chasm wound below them like a giant snake, until what had been a speck in the distance grew and grew, and she realized it was the orc bridge crossing the Bone Ditch. There was only one, constructed of weather-worn wood and thick ropes bound together with crude knots. Just thinking about crossing it made Jessilynn sick to her stomach. Sonowin looped around once, and then a hundred yards out from the western side they landed on the dull yellow grass of the Wedge.

Jessilynn leapt off the winged horse, her knees wobbling. Falling down, she clutched the grass as vomit climbed her throat.

“Focus on breathing,” Dieredon said, standing beside her. “Even elves sometimes feel discomfort from the speed and heights we climb.”

It made Jessilynn feel a little better as she puked onto the grass. Just a little.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing herself to a stand. She pulled her bow off her back and scanned the bridge, looking for any threats. She saw none, and in her mind she heard no subtle warning of Ashhur alerting her to danger, either.

“Where are they?” she asked.

Dieredon frowned.

“Follow me,” he said. “Stay silent, and stay alert. Do not look ahead, but behind and to the sides. Trust my eyes for the front.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Dieredon started to walk, then stopped.

“‘Sir’ is a human title,” he said.

She immediately blushed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to show respect. What should I call you?”

Dieredon cocked his head to the side.

“My name?”

The way he said it made it sound so simple, and she felt her blush growing, much as she hated it. She was not some immature girl. Her monthlies had begun years before, and by all rights she was a woman grown, but something about Dieredon made her feel so stupid, so unsure and unskilled. A simple berating by him shouldn’t embarrass her, especially when it wasn’t much of a berating at all.

Begging Ashhur to clear her head and nerves, she rapidly nodded.

“Of course,” she said. “Lead on.”

“Good. Keep your bow at ready, and follow behind me at ten paces.”

With a near fanatical obsession she followed his orders, and together they made their way to the ramshackle bridge. Every few moments she glanced behind them, where the yellow grass of the Wedge stretched on and on for miles. No matter how often she looked, she saw no signs of life. Up ahead was just as still, and when they reached the first plank of the bridge, Dieredon beckoned her over.

“Look here,” he said, pointing to a faded smear of dirt upon of wood. Jessilynn looked, but whatever he saw, she did not.

“It’s been at least three months since anyone crossed this bridge,” he explained.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked. From what she understood, having orcs escape their prison was about as bad as it got.

Dieredon glanced across the bridge to the east.

“Not if there are no orcs left to cross,” he said. “Sonowin, come!”

His sudden worry made Jessilynn nervous as she climbed atop the winged horse. Without any of his usual attempts for steadiness, Dieredon tugged on the reins, sending them flying over the Bone Ditch and into the greener lands beyond.

“Where are we going?” she shouted.

“The Green Castle.”

She dared not ask why. She felt intrusive enough as it was. For three days they’d camped north of the Citadel, and he’d spent hours fixing her stance, showing her the proper way to grip her bow and draw an arrow. By the third day she could tell he’d grown restless, and come the fourth they’d begun their flight northeast. Hearing the worry in his voice put a seed of guilt in her stomach. What if they arrived somewhere too late, and it was all because of her training? Could she even stay with him in good conscience if that were the case?

They remained low to the ground, passing over hilly lands that seemed to go on forever. The grass was lush, showing the healthy luster of spring. Slowly the hills evened out, and then in the far distance she saw a faint hint of stone that rapidly took the shape of a circular wall built atop a hill. Jessilynn almost asked Dieredon if that was the Green Castle, then realized the stupidity of the question. Beyond the outer circular walls was a slender tower, every facing covered with what she guessed to be vines. Nearer and nearer they flew. The castle took on a more vivid green, and even from her distance she could see the large clusters of flowers that speckled the castle.

Dieredon circled twice, his eyes scanning the ground. His frown deepened, but still he ordered Sonowin to land. Just inside the inner walls the winged horse touched ground. Dieredon leapt off before the beast was still, and he offered her a hand.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she took it. “It’s so quiet here.”

“This castle belonged to Lord Sully. He was never a friend of elvenkind, but he did aid us in keeping the orcs at bay. When last I left here, his men were patrolling the Bone Ditch to prevent the construction of any more bridges.” He gestured about the empty courtyard. “It shouldn’t
be
quiet. There should be servants, soldiers, children…”

He pulled off his bow, then hurried toward the castle. Jessilynn tugged free her own bow and ran after him. Her plodding footsteps seemed so loud compared to the elf’s silent passage. They crossed through the courtyard, stopping at the large castle doors. They were shut, with no visible sign of attack. Dieredon’s frown deepened. The elf briefly investigated the castle doors, tugged once to confirm they were still locked, then peered up the castle walls.

“Check the outer grounds for any signs of life,” he said, hopping atop of Sonowin. “I’ll investigate the castle, see if I can discover where they’ve fled. If you find yourself in trouble, whistle as loud as you can.”

“I will,” Jessilynn said. She clutched her bow and tried not to let her nervousness show. Being alone in the great courtyard made her uneasy. Something had gone terribly wrong, and they both knew it. Dieredon flew higher and higher until he was even with one of the upper windows of a tower, then leapt off Sonowin’s back. He vanished into the stone edifice. Wanting to be useful, Jessilynn started scanning the area, trying to decide what she was even looking for.

Aimlessly, she began walking through the courtyard, slowly making her way around to the western side. The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand as more and more things looked askew. She found overturned barrels, broken shafts of wood that might have been spears, bits of shredded clothing. Against one wall of the tower she saw a stain, and stepping closer, she saw the stone was chipped. The stain was, without a doubt, a great smear of blood.

 When her fingers brushed against it she heard a distant sound, one she could hardly believe.

Laughter?

Closing her eyes, she did her best to listen, and sure enough she heard it again. From somewhere in the building, she decided, but where? With how large the tower was, it’d take time for Dieredon to find them if he also heard. Jogging alongside the stone, Jessilynn looked for an alternate entrance beyond the locked gates. Rounding the southwest corner, she found a small jut built out from the wall, just narrow enough for a single man to pass through. It was blocked by a single gate. A way to flank attackers at the front gate if the situation demanded it, she guessed. Beyond the iron gate was a second wooden door. From beyond that, she heard another round of muffled laughter.

“Dieredon?” she called out, but so pathetic was her cry that she doubted anyone could have heard her. She swallowed, told herself to be brave. She was a paladin of Ashhur. She was supposed to be a champion of mankind, not a girl quaking in fear at a stranger’s laughter.

She touched the gate. With a grinding squeak it pushed inward. It took a moment for her to overcome her surprise. She’d been convinced it would be locked like the front gates had been. Of course, there was still the wooden doors just beyond. Stepping into the dark passageway, she grabbed the handle and pulled.

It opened with a dull thud, revealing a long, unlit hallway. Offering a prayer to Ashhur for safety, she pulled an arrow out of her quiver and pressed it against the string of her bow. The arrowhead lit up with a soft blue-white glow, and with its light guiding her, she stepped into the hallway. The echoes of her footfalls made her wince, and again she thought of Dieredon’s silent passing. Jessilynn wore lighter armor than the other paladins, a special suit requested by Jerico himself from a traveling smith. It was heavy leather, studded, with her chest and shoulders reinforced with a variety of plate and chain. She could move far easier than the others in their platemail, but it was still heavy, and worse, noisy. Each step she took sounded like thunder. Her fear made the light of her arrow falter until she could barely see five feet before her.