Angel's Knight (Angelwar Book 3)

by A. J. Grimmelhaus

  ‘Tol?’

  Tol turned at the sound and saw a young man seated in Benvedor’s shadow, his features startlingly familiar. ‘Kal?’ He grinned. ‘It’s good to see you, cousin.’

  Kal shuffled in his seat. ‘I think I saw her earlier.’

  After the shouts died down, Tol listened as his cousin recounted witnessing events on the docks, and the curiosity which led him to follow the mercenaries and their prisoner. When he had finished there was only one question on Tol’s mind.

  ‘Do you think you can find the house again?’

  15.

  ‘Alimarcus?’

  Sleep would not come, however much she tried. Lying at the base of the elora tree and staring through its canopy to the starry sky above brought no comfort; the blue-green orb hung brazenly above, a taunt that events were unfolding tantalisingly close yet beyond her sight.

  ‘Yes.’ The voice rumbled through the habitat like a distant earthquake, the single word drawn out like a sigh.

  Kalashadria continued pacing, turning as she reached a tree trunk and retreading a course to another bole only yards away – a path traced too many times this night. ‘Have there been any developments?’

  The question, Kalashadria knew, had been asked more often than would be wise. She didn’t care, a faint tickle in her mind another reminder of her link to the distant man entering enemy territory.

  ‘The human has disembarked and entered what, by the primitive’s standards, is called a city.’

  Alimarcus was more acerbic than usual, and she wondered if it was possible to truly test the patience of a mind so unfathomably large it probably knew how the conversation would unfold; could probably have calculated and catalogued every conceivable sentence she might utter in the blink of an eye. It was tempting to say something unexpected, speak some meaningless nonsense, just to irritate the worldholme’s gargantuan intelligence. But Alimarcus has probably already guessed what that nonsense might be, Kalashadria conceded. ‘And the puppets of the Demhoun-el’teri?’

  A low, chest-rattling sigh drifted through the trees, a response so contrary to the worldholme’s artificial nature that Kalashadria knew she was trying Alimarcus’ patience.

  ‘Surround the city,’ Alimarcus informed her.

  Kalashadria stopped pacing, craning her neck back to stare up through the dome’s clear roof. ‘How long until the attack begins?’

  ‘The night in that part of the world is already half gone,’ Alimarcus told her. ‘The assault will begin at dawn.’

  Kalashadria pursed her lips. ‘Are they there?’

  ‘Unknown.’

  ‘You must have some idea,’ she said, resuming her march between trees while keeping one eye on the planet beyond the dome. ‘Make a guess.’

  ‘Probably.’

  Kalashadria shook her head. ‘He was lucky twice, I do not think he can survive a third encounter with them. He needs me; I should go down there.’

  ‘Must we have this conversation again?’ Alimarcus asked. ‘It is so tedious I am considering ejecting myself from the ship just so I don’t have to hear your perpetual whine.’

  Kalashadria stopped. ‘That was uncalled for.’ It was worrying, too; most unlike the patient intelligence to openly insult one of the Anghl’teri.

  ‘You refuse to listen to me,’ Alimarcus said, its disembodied voice drifting through the clearing. ‘Tell me, child, whose opinion would you truly heed? Your father’s?’

  ‘Father wouldn’t understand,’ she replied. ‘If he had spent time among the humans he would see their worth.’

  ‘Then, by your own logic, you would give credence to Galandor’s view on your proposed stupidity?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said with a dismissive wave. What is wrong with Alimarcus? Though never soft, I have never heard such malice from him. ‘But Galandor sleeps, else I would talk to him.’

  ‘So you will ignore my advice and descend to the planet?’

  ‘He is my friend, Alimarcus, and he is in grave danger. I am sorry, but I cannot wait up here any longer, not knowing his fate.’

  ‘But if Galandor counselled staying here, you would listen?’

  ‘He is our greatest military commander, of course I would listen. But you cannot know – not completely – what Galandor would say in this situation.’

  ‘No, you are correct,’ Alimarcus said, ‘which is why you are going to talk to him.’

  ‘Talk to him?’ Kalashadria felt a cold tingle, sure that somehow the worldholme’s mind had guided her through the conversation to this juncture with a specific purpose. ‘Galandor sleeps… doesn’t he?’

  Alimarcus was silent for several seconds. ‘Not entirely,’ the worldholme admitted. ‘Your behaviour recently has been rather erratic. I was concerned a situation like this might arise.’

  A tingle snaked its way down Kalashadria’s spine. ‘Alimarcus, what have you done?’

  ‘I initiated a partial awakening after the human announced its intention to rescue its friend,’ the machine replied. ‘Just enough to stir Galandor’s conscious mind. His body still slumbers, but Galandor is awake enough that communication – of sorts – can be achieved.’

  ‘Of sorts?’

  The explanation wasn’t one Kalashadria liked.

  *

  Darkness, perfect and ceaseless.

  Kalashadria fought a wave of nausea. With no point of reference she couldn’t tell whether she was moving or stationary, which way was up and which was down. In the darkness of space, at least, pinpricks of distant light softened the terror of floating in an unimaginably vast void. This was infinitely worse.

  ‘Hello?’

  Something coalesced in front of her, a bright ball of mist that left her momentarily snow-blind. The mist writhed and curled around itself, slowly resolving itself into a humanoid figure, a man dressed in a flowing robe of pure light. Swirling streamers of whiteness resolved themselves into features: a broad, laughter-lined face, a fulsome snow-white beard, and a mane of hair white as her wings which flowed down, merging seamlessly with the impossibly smooth fabric of the man’s robe.

  ‘Alimarcus?’

  The figure smiled munificently. ‘You were expecting someone else?’

  ‘I was not expecting this,’ Kalashadria said, taking in the appearance of the simulacrum Alimarcus had chosen. I’d never really thought how a vast intelligence might picture its physical appearance. She supposed that it would look like one of the Anghl’teri, but it seemed strange seeing this thing talk with Alimarcus’ voice. I expected wings. ‘This is how you see yourself?’

  The figure smiled. ‘A jest,’ Alimarcus explained. ‘In days long past, before the Anghl’teri embraced science, this was a popular depiction of their deity.’

  Kalashadria snorted. I shouldn’t be surprised. A god, she supposed, was about the closest thing to an equal that the worldholme’s vast mind might hope to find. ‘Where are we?’

  Alimarcus affected a sigh. ‘Your body still remains where you left it,’ the worldholme told her. ‘This,’ the robed figure gestured expansively into the darkness, ‘is a temporary construct I fashioned to communicate with you before I link you to Galandor’s mind.’

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘When you are ready, I will initiate the link. It may leave you a little disoriented.’

  Kalashadria gathered herself. ‘Very well.’

  Alimarcus’ avatar folded its arms. ‘If the Anghl’teri had any great scientists left, they would tell you that what I am about to do is impossible, and all you can say is “very well”?’

  ‘I will congratulate you if I survive intact.’

  ‘For the first time since I crashed onto this desolate moon, I have finally encountered an interesting problem to solve, only to find my audience of one is entirely bored by my achievement. Bringing Galandor out of slumber just far enough to wake his mind was simple, but the real achievement was finding a way to link your two minds so that two-way communication is possible. It was quite an ele
gant solution, using myself as a bridge between your two minds.’

  ‘Impressive,’ Kalashadria commented. ‘Can we just get on with it?’

  ‘Such a feat has not been attempted before,’ Alimarcus said, ‘so the transition may be uncomfortable or unpleasant.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Or painful.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Possibly worse.’

  The simulacrum’s face was unreadable, but Kalashadria had the impression Alimarcus was toying with her. Repayment for not appreciating his genius loudly enough, she thought. It was remarkable how childish such a vast intelligence could be.

  ‘So what do I need to do?’

  ‘Do? Nothing,’ Alimarcus told her. The old man grinned then his hand snapped out, driving an open palm through the side of her face with such force that Kalashadria blacked out as a wave of agony ripped through her mind.

  *

  The lake spread out at her feet, an azure blanket embroidered with sparkling diamonds of light. The waters were still, a moment caught in time and encased in a rich green carpet of fir trees that covered the horizon as far as Kalashadria could see. Evergreen-topped mountains rose left and right and Kalashadria felt a brief moment of sorrow as she realised that this grand vista was everything the worldholme’s habitat could be. And probably once was. There are trees enough that Alimarcus could awaken us all and we could once again be whole.

  She turned to her left and saw a small wooden cabin nestling in a flower-spotted clearing leading to the lake. The cabin was rugged and simple; so very different to the perfect architecture of Kalashadria’s memories that she knew at once it had been crafted by an artisan. It spoke of practicality and strength, a single storey of rough-hewn planes and carefully crafted corners perfect in their simplicity and bereft of any attempt at showmanship. A home, she realised, built with love and built to last. Her eyes drifted towards the shore and she saw him, his toes brushing the still water. Galandor.

  He turned at her approach, his serene expression replaced with one of confusion and anger. ‘This is no dream,’ he said. ‘And you have no place here.’

  Kalashadria hesitated, unsure what to say in the face of his raw emotion. His expression flickered, smoothing over till it was as featureless as the lake itself.

  ‘This is the work of Alimarcus.’

  She nodded. ‘I am lost, Galandor, and more confused than ever. I need answers, and you might be the only one who understands.’

  He turned away, looking over the lake. ‘You have been to the surface.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And Alimarcus knows.’ Galandor nodded to himself. ‘This is no dream, and I am not awake. Alimarcus found a way to link our minds, I assume?’

  ‘He seemed particularly impressed with himself.’

  ‘As he should,’ Galandor said. ‘Alimarcus would not have intruded upon my mind without good reason. Tell me everything that has happened and I will offer what aid I can.’

  Kalashadria explained everything that had happened since her arrival on Korte and that first meeting with Tol Kraven: her mortal injury, their journey together across the north and the story told in a human’s book about Galandor’s own exploits and the creation of an entire religion. He listened as Kalashadria told him of Tol Kraven’s journey to the city of lies and the lords conspiring to aid the enemy by weakening the army’s strength. She told him of the trap laid for her, and her knight’s brave rescue from the dungeon of blood and bones. Kalashadria moved on swiftly, carefully avoiding any mention of what happened afterwards, and moving ahead to Tol’s pursuit of his kidnapped friend. Finally, she explained his current predicament: breaching a city in chaos with an army at its gates.

  ‘He saved my life three times,’ she said. ‘How can I not help him when he needs me the most?’

  ‘You have feelings for the human?’

  ‘He is my friend.’

  Galandor nodded. ‘I had not expected you to form such a close bond with one of them, but there is much potential in these humans. I remember this one’s ancestor; a remarkable creature.’

  ‘Galandor,’ she said, losing patience, ‘what must I do?’

  He didn’t answer for a long time. Finally he said, ‘Do you know why I chose you?’

  ‘What? Gal, I don’t have time for this.’

  ‘Alimarcus knows of your trip planetside, and even now monitors what is happening, yes?’

  ‘Well, yes, but—’

  ‘And you have not been punished? You still hold the watch?’

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed.

  ‘And when have you ever known the worldholme to ignore the rules, to let such a breach of your father’s orders go unpunished?’

  He had her full attention now. ‘Never,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Never,’ he agreed. ‘I knew the Demhoun-el’teri would use the humans against us, even if it took a thousand years, but Alimarcus is a construct of reason, of logic, and could never concede I was right. After my trip to the planet I realised it would not be long before they tried again to control the humans, such is the nature of our enemies. Without proof, however, Alimarcus would be deaf to my claims and so I had to find another way. I had to find the one person not yet burned out by centuries of war, innocent yet intelligent enough to see past our prejudice of lesser species. I needed the one person who might appeal to Alimarcus, who might be humoured long enough to see the truth and in turn make Alimarcus understand the true nature of our enemy: for them there is only victory, and naught else concerns them – even the extinction of a sentient species. Our enemy would consider the death of all humans irrelevant if it also brought about our destruction.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Kalashadria said after a few moments. ‘Why me?’

  Galandor smiled, his eyes heavy with sadness. ‘You were still a child when we fled our homeworld,’ he said. ‘Your mother was dead and your father’s time was spent trying to ensure our survival as we fled into space. Alimarcus practically raised you; it was the worldholme who conducted your education, who kept you amused and entertained.’ Galandor smiled sadly. ‘Alimarcus was as much a parent as your father, and I counted on his indulgence.’

  Kalashadria closed her eyes as she remembered those first years on the worldholme, and the deep voice that ran through every memory: sometimes with an image projected on a wall, sometimes simply cocooning her, but that voice had been a constant companion. She remembered lessons in history and strategy, a translucent hologram which taught her swordplay with Alimarcus’ deep bass voice. He was built to carry us to safety, to be the last guardian of a few thousand souls and take them far away from our enemies. Steward of complex machinery and battered souls, but Alimarcus still found time to raise me. She remembered the first assault as they fled their home system, hiding under her bed while her father was nowhere to be seen. A voice had spoken, reassuring her that all would be well. Even in the heat of battle, Alimarcus still devoted a part of itself to caring for me. Even for an intelligence as vast and powerful as Alimarcus, diverting even a tiny part of itself from the intricacies of a space battle would surely have been a risk.

  As Kalashadria had grown she had distanced herself from Alimarcus, finding her independence, but in those first years as the worldholme fled from one battle to another it was Alimarcus who had comforted her, Alimarcus who had answered a child’s catalogue of questions and never once shown impatience, no matter how foolish or contrary she treated the worldholme.

  Kalashadria opened her eyes. Galandor offered a rare smile of sympathy. ‘I remember,’ she whispered. He turned away and looked out across the lake. Kalashadria followed his gaze. ‘What is this place?’

  ‘A memory,’ he said, ‘nothing more than a memory.’ He pointed towards one of the mountains. ‘The waterfall at Skyfe was five days travel that way. Nothing was nearer.’

  ‘You lived here?’ Somehow, it wasn’t how Kalashadria pictured Galandor’s life before the war. I assumed he had always been a warrior.


  ‘Just my wife and I,’ he said quietly. ‘She died early on in the war. After that there was nothing left for me, nothing except destroying the monsters which had done this.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was a long time ago.’ He turned back to her. ‘You should return, I doubt whether Alimarcus can sustain contact between us indefinitely.’

  ‘But what must I do about Tol? Alimarcus says I must leave him to his fate.’

  ‘This human you speak of believes in our cause?’ She nodded. ‘Then what would he have you do?

  Kalashadria bowed her head. ‘He would tell me not to go.’

  16.

  ‘I could be drinking beside the fire now, instead of shivering in yet another dark alley.’

  Tol glanced at Kartane as they followed Kal. ‘I thought you liked adventure?’

  ‘We’re there,’ Kal whispered, stopping as the alley opened out into a wide street.

  ‘You’re sure?’ Tol asked over his cousin’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m not stupid. They took her there—’

  Tol grabbed Kal’s arm and pulled it down. ‘Don’t point,’ he hissed.

  Kal muttered something under his breath. ‘The large house on the left. I remember the church tower. I’m not stupid,’ he repeated.

  ‘I know you’re not,’ Tol said, his eyes sweeping the street ahead. Several large manor houses lined the road on the left hand side with an assortment of smaller, lopsided buildings lining the right hand side of the road. The church looked to be on the corner, another road branching off south at right angles to the main street. ‘I have to find her,’ he told his cousin. ‘Are you sure it’s the right building.’

  ‘Opposite the church,’ Kal confirmed. ‘What’s so important about this girl anyway? You in love with her or something?’

  ‘Yes. She is also the Black Duke of Sudalra’s daughter.’

  Kal whistled, stopping as Kartane slapped the back of his head with a mutter of ‘shut up.’

  ‘Then Salazar…’