War of the Magi: Azrael's Wrath (Book 2)

by Lewis, Joseph Robert

  “Me?” Faris laid his hand on his chest.

  “All of us.”

  “Then every minute we waste here is another minute for his soldiers to hurt innocent people,” Iyasu said. “We can’t fight them, not here. Thousands could die. Hostages. Bystanders.”

  “But we have the Angel of Death!” Edris pointed at the woman in the Daraji dress.

  Azrael looked pointedly at Iyasu, and a fresh argument erupted about whether or not they could batter three legions into submission by taking them prisoner, unconscious, one by one.

  “We don’t have time for this.” Iyasu glanced up the road at the dark outline of the palace against the stars. “We have to get out of the city.”

  “You think we can escape without them seeing us?” Edris asked, casting a stern look at the large prince.

  “Just the opposite,” Iyasu said. “To keep the people of Tagal safe, we need to make sure the soldiers see us go.”

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  “To be perfectly honest, I don’t love that plan,” Edris said.

  “Neither do I,” Zerai added.

  “I know it’s dangerous,” Iyasu said, “But…”

  “Wait, wait!” Faris waved his hand in the air. “Iyasu, we tried it your way. We took back the city, we put Darius in prison, we crowned a new king. And how long did it last? An hour? Look around you, seer. This city belongs to the killers and thieves now. Our only hope is to get as far away as we can, and pray that Darius never finds us.”

  “And what about the people we leave behind?” Iyasu asked. “Thousands of people in this city, in your army, in Ovati and Elladi, all suffering, all dying. Year after year after year. We can’t let that happen.”

  “We can’t stop it from happening,” Faris snapped. “We just tried, and we failed. We failed horribly. I watched my cousin take an arrow to his eye and fall down dead right in front of me. How many good people died tonight? How many more should die for your notions of peace?”

  Iyasu winced. “None should die.”

  “But they will!”

  “Gentlemen,” Veneka said loudly. “We have no time to argue. We need to leave the city. Once we are safely away, we will find a way to convince Darius that we are out of the city so he spares the people here, a way that does not put all of our lives in jeopardy. Agreed?”

  Iyasu sighed and nodded at her.

  Thank you, Ven.

  With a bit of harried shuffling, all of the people standing in the street were paired up with one of Jengo’s mounted soldiers. Faris was given a horse of his own, and Samira took none at all, preferring to continue on foot. The alchemist managed to take his seat with Talia still in his arms, and Petra sat sweating and gasping in front of a frightened young man who seemed incredibly uncomfortable with the prospect of a child being born in his lap as he rode.

  With every human, djinn, and angel settled, they raced off into the night.

  Iyasu clung to the waist of the soldier in front of him, and gazed steadily over at the woman riding to his right. Azrael’s dark hair streamed out behind her, and her Daraji jewelry jangled softly under the thunder of the hooves.

  Can I really help an angel? I’ve seen the anguish of one nation, but she’s seen the anguish of all humanity since the dawn of time.

  I’m an idiot.

  I’m so desperate to stop failing, to stop causing all this pain, that I’ll promise anything to anyone in the hopes of redeeming myself.

  I’m such an idiot.

  He closed his eyes and exhaled.

  But Darius, and everyone like Darius, they’re still out there, still being monsters for no good reason. Because they can.

  So I have to keep going, keep trying. I have to, or what am I for?

  And Azrael…

  He looked at her again.

  She’s lost all hope. Whatever faith she had is dangling by a thread, the thread of her divine nature as an angel. But if she didn’t have that, what would be left of her soul after seeing and feeling the deaths of billions of suffering people?

  What would be left of mine?

  They galloped through the dark, empty streets. Here and there they saw the signs of panic and chaos, doors standing open and unattended, bags of clothing spilled out on the cobblestones, baskets of food dropped by the road side, all remnants of the hundreds of people still loyal to the crown prince fleeing their homes in terror.

  In the distance he saw the western wall of the city looming over the roofs, and then he discerned the iron-bound gates barring their escape to the western road.

  I suppose Azrael can open that for us.

  But just as they began their approach and saw the armed men guarding the gates, Iyasu heard the iron hinges and bars squealing and groaning as they tore away from the wooden planks, and then the wooden planks themselves seemed to melt and flow back toward the sides of the gate house, creating a large circular opening that revealed the star-kissed hills beyond the walls.

  Jengo charged for the opening, and his warriors followed at full speed. The horses snorted and grunted, and with a handful of sword-clashes they dashed by the guards and through the gates, and out into the cold night wind.

  Iyasu glanced back and saw a dark blur behind them. The wood and iron of the doors screamed and groaned as they reached back out from either side and wove themselves into an impenetrable barrier, sealing the wall shut.

  Then the blur vanished into the night, and Iyasu waved meekly.

  Thank you, Samira. Now Darius will know we are gone, but won’t be able to follow for hours.

  The people are safe.

  And we’re safe.

  For now.

  Chapter 19

  Zerai

  After half an hour of galloping and trotting, the horses were exhausted and they fell into a far less vigorous walking pace, but there was no talk of stopping. Zerai could no longer see the walls or lights of Tagal behind them, but every shadow seemed to swim in his tired eyes.

  What’s that? Are those riders back there? A dust plume from their hooves? Or just more black spots telling me to get some sleep?

  His mind continued to race even as his body slumped in the saddle with the passing hours. Everything ached and cried out to stretch and lie down and just sleep, but he kept kicking his bones to stay up, to stay ready. Twice he had to nudge his horse’s rider to make sure the young soldier was still alert, and after the second time they switched places and Zerai took the reins.

  They continued west until the road ended at a small farm at the edge of the desert, and then they continued west upon the cold sand. Edris took the lead, confidently pointing out distant mountain peaks to Jengo and describing the paths the Vaari caravans used to cross the dunes.

  Zerai squinted at the sky, noting how the stars seemed to dim. Then he looked behind himself and saw the soft pink glow on the eastern horizon.

  Morning already? And still no sign of Darius’s army. Someone must like us.

  He frowned up at the sky above.

  I’d hate to know what life would be like if someone didn’t like us.

  Soon after the sky began to lighten, Jengo called a halt. Everyone dismounted to sit on the sand in the lee of a tall dune as the cold of the night began to fade and the first faint traces of the day’s heat bled into the air.

  “So where are we going?” Zerai asked Iyasu.

  “Jerinoba.”

  “The Vaari city?”

  The youth yawned. “Edris thinks we’ll be safe there. Jengo agrees.”

  “I’ve never been there. Is it some sort of a fortress?”

  Iyasu shook his head and closed his eyes. “Far from it. It’s a tent city, an encampment of hundreds of Vaari caravans. They come and go throughout the year, so the size and shape of the city is always changing, but it stays in the same place, more or less.”

  “Tents?” Zerai frowned. “Tents aren’t going to protect us from Darius’s legions.”

  “No, but the desert will.”

  “Armie
s can cross deserts.”

  “Not this one. Not after today.”

  “Why not?”

  “Samira.”

  Zerai shook his head. “Samira can’t shape sand. You know that.”

  “No, but she can shape the rock underneath it. Edris says we’ll be passing over a rocky rise in the next hour or so, and she can make a barrier there.”

  “A barrier?”

  “Mm. Some sort of wall.”

  “Covered in spears, I suppose.”

  “She does like rock spears, doesn’t she?”

  Zerai looked over at Veneka, who was snoring softly on her blanket beside him.

  “You should stop asking her,” Iyasu whispered.

  “About what?”

  “You know what.”

  “Oh, that.” Zerai sighed.

  Not that it’s any of your business.

  The falconer looked across their group scattered along the curve of the dune and saw Bashir cradling the body of Talia in a long, striped blanket that hid all but the woman’s hair. “What do you make of that?”

  The seer squinted at the alchemist. “I understand why Veneka did it. I do. But I wish she hadn’t.”

  “Any particular reason, or just a general objection?”

  “Just the general. Nothing good will come of it, except more heartache. That man needs to grieve and move on with his life. Unfortunately, Veneka’s just given him a powerful reason not to.”

  Zerai nodded. “Speaking of moving on, how exactly did you convince the Angel of Death to leave Tagal with us? And not that I’m complaining, but how long is she going to be with us? Exactly?”

  Iyasu looked over at him. “She makes you uncomfortable.”

  “She’s the Angel of Death. So… yes.”

  “She’s no danger to you.”

  “Still.” Zerai paused. “So what did you say to her to change her mind?”

  “I suggested that if we worked together, we could put an end to suffering. For everyone. In the world.”

  “Really? End all suffering in the world.” Zerai nodded thoughtfully at the brightening sky. “And you’re still feeling good about that suggestion? That plan? No second thoughts about perhaps over-promising to the Angel of Death?”

  “Actually, I feel even better about it than I did last night.” The seer smiled up at the thin wispy clouds. “I know it’s not something I can really do, not by myself, not in one lifetime, but it’s still worth doing. And we can change the world, bit by bit, over the years.”

  “Years?”

  “Yes, years.”

  After half an hour, Jengo called everyone to mount up and resume their journey west to Jerinoba. Zerai’s riding partner was still a bit dazed from the long night, so the falconer took the reins again and kept a sharp eye on the horizons all around.

  Above him, Nezana soared ever upward on the rising desert thermals.

  They had only crossed two dunes when Zerai paused at a crest to look back to the east and saw the dark cloud on the desert floor behind them. “Here they come!”

  Everyone glanced back long enough to register with fear and dismay that a large company of armed riders were indeed charging across the sandy wastes, and then they themselves raced westward all the faster. It didn’t take long for them to sight the rocky ridge that Iyasu had described, and Samira herself was already standing on top of it, waiting for the prince and clerics to cross over so she could raise her barrier. But the sandy slope of the dune swallowed every pounding hoof, dragging the heavily laden horses down even as they reached upward, and so their progress slowed to a terrifying crawl.

  After yelling and kicking his horse several times, Zerai slipped down from the saddle and hiked up the soft slope as fast as he could, dragging the horse by its reins. Everyone else was dismounting as well, and while some tried to push and pull their horses onward, many of the animals were abandoned altogether. Zerai grimaced at the wide, black eyes of his own horse, and then dropped the reins to run up the last dune with Veneka just a step ahead of him.

  They were still several long lunges away from the sure footing of the exposed rock when the first bronze arrows began shrieking through the air and thumping into the sand all around them. The prince and his servants cried out in fear, and the weary soldiers held their small shields over their heads as they huffed and gasped up the steep, treacherous dune.

  Zerai drew his blade and turned to smack the arrows out of the air. It took all of his focus to squint into the bright eastern sky and spot the black glimmers of death in time to dodge and strike, but he was faring well for the first dozen or so arrows. But then they began to fly thicker and faster than before as the whole body of the charging legion came within arrowshot and every man with a bow began to fire.

  A horse was the first to fall, one of the large brown ones off to Zerai’s left. And then a soldier took a bolt through his shield and arm, and he screamed even as he continued to trudge up the sliding sand.

  Zerai saw Veneka and then Iyasu vanish over the crest of the dune as they slipped past Samira, and he felt a tiny weight leave his shoulders. With a stern glare, he kept slashing at the falling arrows and step by step, he climbed.

  The five footmen and maids clustered around Faris and Jengo finally broke and ran for safety, abandoning their prince only half way up the sheer face of the dune. But they also left behind the safety of Jengo’s blade, and only a moment later one of the footmen fell to the ground with a pale wooden shaft through his neck. The man trembled and pawed weakly at the sand as he slid back down to the bottom, and then lay still.

  The rest of the servants climbed even faster, sobbing and shouting all the way. A second man fell, and then a woman.

  “Samira!” Zerai hollered as he neared the top of the dune. “Save them!”

  She looked where he pointed and gave him a small nod.

  What was she waiting for?

  And then he reached the top of the dune and scrambled back across the rocky ledge there to join the others and he saw what Samira had been doing. There, spread out across the width of the sandy ridge as far as he could see to the north and south, was the spiked crest of a rock wall. It had only risen as high as a man, but was tipped with a cluster of stone blades piercing the air at every angle. But the djinn cleric paused in her work to send a long stone arm down the face of the dune to catch each of the surviving servants, one at a time, and then finally she pulled Faris and Jengo up as well.

  The last maid and footman both reached the top with an arrow to the arm or leg, but Veneka raced to their sides and soon had both of them fully recovered and hiding behind the wall, though both of them continued to sob and shake in each others’ arms. Jengo reached the top with only a single gash to his shoulder, and Faris arrived without a scratch on him.

  As they all took shelter behind the barbed wall, Samira resumed her work in raising that barrier ever higher, lifting it up to three times the height of a tall man and reaching for miles to the north and south, perched upon the top of the soft, shifting dunes.

  Zerai sat down hard on the sandy rock beside Veneka, wrapped his arms around her, and closed his eyes. It took several minutes for his heart to slow to its regular pace, and for his lungs to stop heaving and burning, but eventually his body recovered from the panic of the escape, and he found himself enjoying the westerly shade of the barrier wall.

  He sighed and felt the knots in his back begin to unwind.

  Safe. Even if only for an hour, we are, right now, safe.

  As they waited there, a handful of arrows glided over the wall and clattered harmlessly on the rocky plateau a long stone’s throw from any of them. Zerai leaned against the smooth, cool stone wall and listened to the soft rumble of the legion’s horses crossing the last hard pan and beginning to climb the soft dunes. Men were shouting in the distance, and metal clanked and clattered dully.

  And then a woman cried out.

  Zerai jerked up and looked back at Samira, who now stood perched upon her spiked wall looking do
wn at the approaching army. He called up to her, “Who is that?”

  She called back down, “One of the servants at the bottom of the dune.”

  He leapt up but Veneka spoke faster, “If she’s still alive, I can heal her. Bring her up!”

  “I would, but the legion is very close now. I imagine the moment they see any movement, they’ll shower her with arrows as I pulled her up.”

  “We can’t just leave her there. You have to try! Curl the stone arm around her to shield her, if you can.”

  Samira frowned as she turned away, and Zerai thought he heard her mutter, “Of course I’ll shield her. I’m not incompetent.”

  So he stood there, staring up at the djinn cleric, listening to Darius’s legion marching closer by the minute, waiting.

  The woman screamed.

  “What happened?” Veneka shouted.

  A moment later, a stone tendril arched over the barbed wall and gently laid the body of the maid on the rocky ground. Zerai winced. He counted seven arrows in the left side of her body, which was awash in bright, fresh blood. Veneka dashed to her side and began gently pulling out the arrows with one hand while pressing her other hand to the woman’s chest and whispering her entreaties to channel the healing power of Raziel.

  But after removing the second arrow, she stopped. Veneka sat back and sighed heavily. “She’s gone.”

  “Gone?” the alchemist said.

  Zerai turned to see Bashir peering at them from a few paces away, with the carefully wrapped body of Talia lying beside him. The falconer nodded. “She can’t heal the dead.”

  The alchemist whirled to look at Azrael, who stood silent and still, staring westward at the ancient stone pillars that led the way into the deeper desert. “Holy Azrael, you’ve only just freed this woman’s soul, haven’t you? It’s still near then. Please, bring it here!” He scooped up Talia’s body. “That body may be ruined, but this one isn’t. Bring that woman’s soul back and bind it to Talia’s body. Please, don’t let her die again.”

  The angel turned slightly so that the side of her face was to him as she said, “I can no more bind that woman’s soul to Talia’s body than to her own. I am a knife, nothing more. I cut the soul free at the moment of death, and it is gone. Souls do not linger here, fluttering like cloth in the wind. They leave. They are gone.”