Half-Orcs: Book 06 - The Prison of Angels (2 page)

“A
re you sure we have to do this?” Harruq asked as Aurelia looked over his armor for what felt like the hundredth time. Her fingers brushed away dust noticeable only by the sharpest of elven eyes.

“It’d look bad,” his wife said, frowning as she adjusted the long red cloak that had been tailored just for the occasion.

“I don’t mind looking bad. I think I prefer it.”

“For Antonil.”

Harruq grabbed Aurelia’s hands, and when she glared up at him he smiled. Slowly she relaxed, leaning her head against his dark leather armor.

“You mean something to them,” she said as he held her close. “To
all
of them, and right now Antonil needs every bit of love from the crowds he can get.”

Harruq let out a defeated sigh.

“I know,” he said. “So do I pass inspection?”

“Close enough for human eyes. What of me?”

She twirled in her beautiful, elven-styled dress laced with gold. Her hair was looped into an intricate design, the braids across her forehead looking like a circlet. Seven emeralds hung from silver thread curled into the braids on either side of her face, and each time she twirled they sparkled with magic.

“Why’d you marry me again?” he asked.

“Stupidity. Now let’s go. We can’t keep them waiting forever.”

He extended his arm, she took it, and together they stepped out from behind the curtain, then hooked left down the crimson carpet. Standing about were dozens of guards in glimmering armor. Between them stood King Antonil Copernus.

“Large smiles,” Antonil said, and the amusement in his eyes made Harruq want to smack him, royalty or not.

“You owe me,” Harruq muttered. The way Antonil laughed made the half-orc worry greatly.

“That I do,” the king said. “You’ll find out how much soon enough.”

Before Harruq could enquire further, Aurelia pulled him along, across the last of the crimson carpet, over white marble stones, and emerged into the roar of the gathered crowds beyond the doors of the great castle of Mordeina. Thousands of people lined either side of the road that led down to the twin walls of the city. Harruq felt his throat constrict, and he forced himself to breathe. So many people…

“Walk,” Aurelia whispered into his ear, hiding the command with a pleased smile. Harruq forced one foot forward, then the other, and at last the spell brought on by the crowd broke. He grinned, feeling like a goof. With his free hand he waved to the people, guessing it the proper thing to do. Aurelia kept both her hands on his arm as they walked, looking as elegant as a princess. Down the steps they traveled, people hailing him a hero, cheering for the mighty Godslayer. The children in particular pushed hardest to the front, crawling if need be to see through the line of soldiers that held back the masses. They gawked at his armor, and he saw several making motions with their hands. Knowing what they wanted, he chuckled, drew Condemnation from its sheath, and held the black blade above his head to even greater cheers.

“I thought you didn’t want to do this,” Aurelia said, still smiling.

“I don’t,” Harruq said. “But I might as well enjoy it.”

“If you must,” Aurelia said. “But control your eyes. Some of the younger girls seem to have problems keeping their blouses on.”

To this Harruq sheathed his sword, kissed Aurelia on the mouth, and then hurried on. A second roar began, and he glanced back to see King Antonil exiting the castle, flanked by his handpicked guard. At first he felt pride knowing his cheer had been louder, but worry quickly washed away that feeling. It hadn’t been just a little louder…the cheer for Antonil was weak and fading fast.

“You weren’t kidding,” Harruq muttered. “I didn’t think it was this bad.”

The farther from the castle they went, the rowdier the crowd became, and the people’s shouts weren’t always so joyful. Catcalls mixed with the cheers, and as Antonil neared, Harruq heard them grow stronger.

“Traitor!” someone shouted.

“Coward! Murderer!”

“Foreigner!”

The worst, though, the one that echoed throughout the crowd, was the title that had haunted Antonil’s reign since his second year.

“All hail the Missing King!”

At the very bottom of the hill, where the road met the first wall, Mordan’s army gathered. Thirty thousand men, all enlisted to retake the east from the horde of orcs that had gone unchecked since the end of the Gods’ War. The parade was for their departure, the launching of Antonil’s second campaign to retake his homeland. Much of the celebration was bittersweet, but still the underlying anger surprised him. Was it because of how terrible Antonil’s first attempt at freeing the east from the orcs had gone? Or was there something more?

When Harruq and Aurelia arrived, the soldiers drew their swords and raised them high. He passed below them, a roof of steel above. At Antonil’s arrival the blades lifted higher, and they let out their cry.

“Long live the King!”

Echoed by the voices of thirty thousand, the words gave Harruq chills. He felt Aurelia squeeze his arm, showing she felt it too.

In the center of the soldiers, a wooden platform had been hastily constructed. On it were two seats. One was empty, waiting for Antonil to take his place. In the other sat Susan Copernus, his wife of five years. She was young and slender, her milky skin powdered into an almost ghostly white. Her brown hair was looped similarly to Aurelia’s, only with less intricacy and more jewels. Up the stairs of the platform they stepped, the two taking their designated spot beside the queen.

“Were you lonely waiting for us?” Harruq asked her as Antonil climbed the steps.

“I daily count the hours until you grace my presence,” she said. Her voice was deathly serious, but he could see the laugh shimmering in her eyes.

“It’s all right,” said Tarlak Eschaton, standing on the other side of the thrones. “I kept her entertained until your arrival.”

Harruq grinned at the yellow-robed wizard. His red hair and beard were neatly trimmed, but age lines had started to show across his cheeks and beneath his eyes. Still, his smile was youthful, and his hat pointy as ever.

“You got roped into this as well?” Harruq asked.

“Roped? Nonsense, you brute. I volunteered to spare the queen the indignity of begging for my presence.”

“Come now,” Susan said. “I love you both equally, though I fear I do not love you as much as the commoners do.”

“A shame you had to land the killing blow on the war god,” Antonil said to Harruq, having heard them. He reached out his hand, and his wife stood to accept it. “My life would be much easier had it been me.”

“You slew a dragon,” Harruq said.

“What’s a dragon compared to a god?”

“Enough,” Susan said, kissing Antonil’s cheek. “Do not belittle your accomplishments.”

“I’m not the one belittling them,” Antonil said, and the king’s words were tinged with frustration. Despite it, he turned to the crowd, lifted his arms, and smiled his best smile. The crowd cheered, but not long. The procession was not quite complete. Directly above the wooden platform, high amid the clouds, floated the golden city of Avlimar. From its tall arches, its silver buildings, and its thin, lengthy bridges descended hundreds of angels, their white wings filling the sky. They flung petals of flowers as they crisscrossed about, which fell upon the crowds like rain. As the pinks and violets landed atop his hair and shoulders, Harruq held out a hand.

“Little much, isn’t it?” he asked as petals gathered in his palm.

Aurelia leaned close.

“Antonil’s not the only one trying to win people over,” she whispered.

All along the walls of the city the angels landed, keeping their wings stretched to their fullest extent. Their skin was of all colors, their hair shining, the whiteness of their robes matched only by the feathers of their wings. A low moan came from their throats, a deep chant that reverberated throughout the city. Louder and louder it grew, and as one they drew their swords and shouted the name of their god.

“Ashhur!”

The force it nearly knocked Harruq off his feet. He shook his head as many others hurried back to standing.

“That’s one way to make an entrance,” he muttered.

The leader of the angels landed before them, just beyond the platform. He did not need its height to stare at them eye to eye, for he was a giant of an angel, his golden armor gleaming. His name was Ahaesarus, and it was at his side that Harruq and Aurelia had fought to slay the war god Thulos, preventing him from conquering the world of Dezrel. Beside Ahaesarus landed his war general, Judarius, and his high priest, Azariah. The two were eerily similar, with green eyes tinged with gold and their brown hair cut short around their necks. But where Judarius wore armor and carried an enormous mace upon his back, Azariah had only his robes and his soft hands, skilled at clerical magic. Together the three bowed to Antonil, who stood and bowed in return. Harruq dipped his head in respect.

“Heroes of mankind, King and Queen of Mordan, I greet you,” said Ahaesarus. His voice was deep, befitting one so giant. “This day you march against blasphemous beings. Know that Ashhur gives you his blessing, and with loving eyes he will watch over your homeland in your absence. You will always have a safe home to return to, King Antonil Copernus, and the arms of friends ready to embrace you.”

Ahaesarus drew his sword, a masterful construction of steel, gold, and diamond that was as tall as Harruq. He held it with both hands above his head, and he cried out, his words repeated by the rest of the angels.

“Ashhur bless the King!” they cried. “Ashhur bless the King!”

That was it, the last of the ceremony so far as Harruq knew. He let out a sigh, glad he hadn’t screwed anything up. But Antonil stood, and he looked far from relaxed. Ahaesarus bowed to him, then stepped away so the crowd might see their king. Harruq shot Aurelia a glance, but his wife only shrugged.

“Tomorrow we march,” Antonil said. At first it was hard to hear him, but a quick twitch of Tarlak’s fingers and his voice strengthened, magically carrying throughout the city. “With me march your sons, your husbands, your lovers and protectors. I swear to protect them, honor them, and let not a single life lost be in vain. In my absence my beautiful wife rules…at least, she would if circumstances were different.”

Susan smiled, and that smile filled Harruq with terror. He knew that smile, that glow.
Not good,
he thought.
Antonil you bastard, you better not be doing what I think you’re about to…

“My wife carries my second child,” Antonil told the crowd. Scattered applause accompanied his words. “And I would not burden her further during such a time. So now, before you all, I appoint my steward. He is a man well known to you, whose bravery is unquestioned and whose strength none would dare challenge. He will guard my throne in my absence, administering the king’s justice.”

Harruq felt ready to explode.

“The Godslayer, Harruq Tun,” Antonil announced over the roar of the crowd. “Harruq, come stand before me.”

He felt Aurelia squeeze his hand, and he fought to remain calm. The eyes of the kingdom were upon him. The thought of messing up terrified him, as did ruling as a steward, but to reject Antonil publicly would be an insult the king’s fragile reputation could not endure. So he stepped before Antonil, doing his best to hide his glare from hundreds of onlookers.

“Kneel,” Antonil said, and Harruq did. “Harruq Tun, I declare you Steward of Mordan and protector of the realm. Rise, and rule in my absence.”

Harruq stood, and he leaned forward so he could speak just to the king.

“I’m going to murder you,” he said.

“You have no need to repay me,” Antonil responded, “for there is no debt to repay. Just rule well, as I know you will.”

At first Harruq was confused by his words, but the spell was still on Antonil, and the king’s voice carried throughout the city. The half-orc shook his head. Sly devil. He’d murder Antonil twice now for this.

“A fine choice,” Azariah said, putting a hand on Harruq’s shoulder. “If there is anything you need, any question, my knowledge is open to you.”

“Thanks,” Harruq said, glancing around with wide eyes. He felt like a trapped deer with a crown placed upon his head by a pack of wolves. Unsure what else to do, he waved to the crowd. They cheered back, and he prayed he might live up to their jubilation. Did they really think he’d do any better than Antonil?

That was it, then, the last of the procession. The soldiers were dismissed to spend the night with their loved ones or get drunk one last time with friends. They scattered among the people, who hurried to one of dozens of carnivals set up as part of the celebration. The angels took wing, with only the ruling three remaining behind.

“I hope authority doesn’t make you grow fat and lazy,” Judarius said, smiling at him. “You still owe me a sparring match or three.”

“I have bigger fears than that,” Harruq said, spinning on Antonil. “Have you lost your damn mind? Me, steward? Why not place a donkey in charge for all the good I’ll do?”

“He makes a good point,” Tarlak said. “Either way we’d have an ass sitting on the throne.”

“Don’t panic,” Susan said, leaving her seat so she might kiss Harruq on the cheek. “I’ll be here the whole time. You won’t be left to hang.”

Harruq rubbed his neck. A hanging sounded more preferable than sitting on Antonil’s throne and listening to hours and hours of complaints, pleadings, and accusations.

“Antonil, a word with you if I may?” Ahaesarus asked, and Antonil nodded.

“Harruq, come with us,” the king said. “Ahaesarus, up to that wall if you’d please.”

The angel grabbed each by an arm and with a flutter of his wings they soared into the air. Moments later they landed atop the inner wall of the city, which was now completely empty. Suddenly free of the crowd, Harruq felt his stomach unclench for the first time in an hour.

“Much better,” Harruq said, turning on Antonil. “Now care to tell me what just happened down there?”

“I’m sorry, Harruq. I thought you’d say no if I asked you any other way.”