Ahaesarus landed beside them, his beautiful face marred with anger.
“We leave at the rise of the sun,” he said, glaring at where the image had been. “We have waited long enough.”
“Antonil’s army won’t be ready by then,” Tarlak argued.
“Then they can chase after us,” Ahaesarus said. “Prepare your mercenaries, unless you wish to stay behind.”
Tarlak glanced around at his Eschaton, who all nodded.
“We’re going,” he said. “All of us.”
“Good,” said Ahaesarus. “Be ready.”
He flew back to Avlimar, his angels following.
“We’ll be outnumbered,” Mira said when he was gone. “Even with Antonil’s men.”
“So be it,” Tarlak said. “We just fled across an entire continent. For once, I want to be the one giving chase. All of you, prepare your things. We’re leaving at dawn.”
The Eschaton did as they were told. Their resting was done. They had a war to fight.
18
T he three of them huddled before a fire, feeling isolated amid the remnants of the demon army. Qurrah seethed in silence, pondering Harruq’s eyes and the glow of his swords. He went over their battle again and again. At no point had his brother tried to score a killing blow. He had struck with the hilt of his swords, or at his legs and hands. Compared to their previous battle after Aullienna’s death, the whole ordeal seemed tame. Qurrah was baffled.
“What do we do now?” Tessanna asked, disrupting his thoughts.
“We rebuild,” Velixar said. His arms were crossed, and he bent toward the fire as if he were ready to plunge his face into the embers. “We cannot collapse now, not so close to victory.”
“The demons have already replenished their numbers,” Qurrah said. “I feel the strain of their passing with every breath I take.”
“As do I,” Velixar said. “But we must endure.”
“It’s been months since we first opened the portal,” Qurrah said, rubbing his temples. “I am flesh and bone, Velixar. I will break soon, as will you.”
“I am not weak,” Velixar said, his eyes looking up from the fire. For a moment they flared a bright red, a bit of his old self reemerging.
“Neither of you are weak,” Tessanna said. She curled her knees to her chest and hid her face behind her arms. “But you’re dying. You can’t do this forever. But they want more from you, and they’ll keep taking and taking until you can’t stand, can’t fight, can’t do anything…”
They hushed as Ulamn approached. He had taken off his helmet, and if not for the darkness of his eyes and the multitude of scars on his face, he could have passed as one of the angels they had just fought.
“We will fly for much of the distance,” Ulamn said. “Uncomfortable as it may be for you, we will travel much faster that way. Ashhur’s angels will give chase, and we cannot fight them, not until we reinforce our numbers from Veldaren.”
“What of my priests, my paladins?” Velixar asked.
“They have forsaken you,” Ulamn said. “You know this as well as I. You both are too important to leave our side. You stay with us. If we’re lucky, your disloyal brethren will buy us time. Rest well tonight. Tomorrow will be long.”
He bowed and left. Velixar shook his head, and his features shifted between sadness and anger.
“So many good paladins,” he said. “So many faithful. I will make them pay. All of them.”
Qurrah grabbed Tessanna’s elbow and stood.
“We must rest,” he said. Velixar dismissed them with a wave, not watching them go. They hurried away. Qurrah wasn’t ready for sleep, but he couldn’t stand seeing Velixar in such a state.
“He vows revenge,” Tessanna said, echoing his thoughts. “But what strength does he have to keep such a promise?”
“He doesn’t,” Qurrah said. “And neither do I.”
Tessanna kissed her lover’s cheek, but her comfort was hollow. Never before had she hated Karak as much as she did then.
T arlak slipped inside the room, trying not to make any noise.
“I’m awake,” Haern said from his bed, his eyes still closed. “And beaten or not, my ears still work.”
They were in a dark, windowless infirmary within the castle. There were many beds, but only Haern, with so many bones broken and shattered, remained.
“We’re giving chase,” Tarlak said, sitting on the bed. “About an hour from now. Antonil’s army will follow in a day or two.”
“I should go with you,” Haern said, frowning.
“You’re damn lucky to even be alive,” Tarlak said. “Trying to travel so soon will kill you.”
“You leave to banish a demonic army from our world, and you expect me to stay and hope for the best?” Haern asked.
The wizard gently squeezed the assassin’s shoulder.
“I expect you to get better,” he said, his point made clear by the pain flashing over Haern’s face. “You want to chase after us in a few weeks, you go right ahead. I hope we have a victory party waiting for you in Veldaren.”
Haern sat up enough to hug Tarlak goodbye, then collapsed back onto the bed.
“Tarlak?” Haern said, right before he left.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry,” Haern said. “For how I’ve been.”
“Apology accepted,” Tarlak said, winking. “See you in the months ahead.”
He left. Haern tried to sit up, tried to ignore the pain flaring throughout his body. He couldn’t, and he crashed back onto the bed, groaning and covered with sweat.
W ith much fanfare the angels departed, hundreds and hundreds of winged soldiers in perfect formations. The Eschaton rode in the arms of the angels, their weight seemingly nothing to their powerful white wings. They flew east in pursuit of the demons.
Antonil watched them go from the outer wall, scratching at his chin as he did.
“Itching to go with them?” his old general Sergan asked. “Can’t say I blame you.”
“I just led thousands of refugees across the continent,” Antonil said. “And now I am to travel back with an army at my command. To think, I always thought King Vaelor had it easy.”
“He did have it easy,” Sergan said. He plopped his ax to the stone and leaned on its hilt, staring after the rapidly fading army. “He sat on his throne, issued paranoid edicts, and expected respect without earning it. You, however, have led your people as needed, fought beside them, bled with them, and gave everything you had. A good king, that’s what I see.”
“And if we fail?” Antonil asked, turning toward his trusted friend. “And if I lead so many to their deaths, and return to Mordeina with her army broken, her food spent, and the whole world lost to fire?”
Sergan laughed. “You worry too much. A few days ago we thought we were all doomed. Now you’re king and Ashhur’s given us an army. I may not be a religious man, but I know a time for faith when I see it.”
Antonil chuckled. “I guess you’re right,” he said.
“Of course I am.” He picked up his ax and hefted it over his shoulder. “Now, if it pleases your highness, I would like to start inspecting our newly granted troops.”
“Go easy on them,” Antonil said. “At least until they accept orders from a man of Neldar. I’d hate to see you strung up before we leave.”
“They can try,” Sergan said as he climbed down the ladder. “But try is as far as they’d get.”
T he next day, Antonil knelt before his queen, accepting her public blessing. Rows and rows of soldiers filled the streets. Wagons spotted the fields surrounding the city, filled with provisions for the army. The weather was warm, the sky clear, and the sun bright.
“Don’t try to come back a hero,” Annabelle said to Antonil as she kissed his forehead. “You already are one. Just come back alive.”
“I’ll do my best, milady,” Antonil said. He stood, drew his sword, and shouted an order. The soldiers turned, crying out the name of their beloved city. Toward the gates they marched. Women and children lined the edges of the street, shouting goodbyes to their fathers, friends, and husbands. Annabelle remembered a similar ceremony, when her then husband had sent the might of Mordan after the Dezren elves, banishing them from their kingdom.