Angel's Knight

by A. J. Grimmelhaus

  ‘I am surprised,’ Isallien said as she watched Kartane haul the innkeeper over his own bar. ‘I would not have expected the duke to allow you to marry a common knight.’

  ‘He took a little persuading,’ Katarina replied absently, watching as a man slipped into the inn, striding past the altercation without so much as a glance. An unusual reaction.

  ‘I am more surprised that your father is allowing you to stay in the city with the Gurdal so close.’

  The newcomer made straight for the back stairs, a hood obscuring most of his face. It’s probably nothing, Katarina thought.

  ‘I saw them from the ship,’ she said. ‘They are close to the city now.’ The figure headed up the stairs towards the rooms, but she caught a glimpse of a face she recognised. Now what’s he doing here? ‘Father will be expecting me back later, I just came to see Steven – where is he?’

  ‘Still sleeping, I reckon,’ a rejuvenated Kartane said as he dropped back to his seat and slid a mug towards her. ‘Apparently some annoying woman said he needed to catch up on his beauty sleep.’

  ‘I rather think it’s time he woke up.’ Katarina stood up. It’s probably nothing, she told herself. Even so, she quickened her pace as she headed for the stairs.

  *

  Katarina crested the top of the stairs just in time to see a swatch of cloak disappear through a doorway at the far end of the hall. That’s Steven’s room. She moved slowly and silently now, creeping along the corridor towards the last room. She heard voices as she drew closer, inching along the corridor. It’s probably nothing.

  ‘Hello, Sir Tol.’

  Steven grunted, but that wasn’t surprising. He never seemed to be at his best upon waking. Or, if Katarina thought about it, for some time after.

  ‘The Gonk has a question for you.’

  ‘Now’s not really convenient,’ Steven grunted. ‘Who’s this Gonk?’

  ‘The Gonk is I,’ the Meracian spy said, his voice drifting down the hallway. ‘And the Gonk is most keen on hearing your answer.’

  Nothing to worry about, Katarina thought. She turned round and took a step towards the stairs.

  ‘And do you really have to ask at knifepoint?’ Steven sighed.

  She stopped. I leave him alone for an afternoon and look what happens. She turned round again and started forward as the Meracian spy spoke again.

  ‘The Gonk finds it helps sharpen the mind.’

  ‘Who are you and what do you want?’

  Steven sounded angry now, and that seemed an entirely stupid reaction. If he loses his temper… Katarina moved a little quicker.

  ‘The Gonk asks the questions,’ the Meracian spy replied. ‘And the Gonk’s question is this: what really happened in that cottage on Drayken’s estate?’

  Katarina reached the door, giving the wood a gentle push so it swung inward.

  ‘I already told the King what happened,’ Steven said, his voice suddenly flat.

  He’s lying, Katarina realised as she slipped in through the doorway. Steven was lying on his cot, the Gonk sitting at his side with his back to the door, positioned like a parent reading a bedtime story. Except for the dagger. Katarina reached down and drew her own dagger. What’s this all about? she wondered as she crept into the room.

  ‘Then perhaps,’ the Gonk said, ‘you could explain how Prince Julien’s wounds do not match the demon’s sword? They look, in fact, like they were made by a different weapon. One very much like the sword you are known to carry.’

  ‘You won’t like the answer.’

  Katarina took another step forward. She was almost there.

  ‘The Gonk is losing patience. Talk.’

  Judging by the grunt from Steven, the Gonk had just prodded him with his knife. Not a smart idea, Katarina thought. I might just have to kill him. She took another step forward. One more step and she’d have him.

  ‘Prince Julien wasn’t a prisoner of the demon. He was an ally.’

  Steven grunted again as the Gonk’s voice rose. ‘Do not lie!’

  ‘It’s true,’ Steven said as Katarina stepped forward. ‘He had made a deal with the demons. Once they conquered Meracia he’d be king. He told me before I killed him.’

  ‘I think,’ Katarina whispered as she put her dagger to the Meracian’s throat, ‘the more important question here is what you intend to do with that knowledge. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘An interesting question,’ the Gonk said.

  Katarina applied pressure to his throat. ‘Perhaps this will help sharpen your mind?’

  He withdrew his own dagger from Steven’s throat, slowly reversing his grip and holding it out. ‘Indeed it does, Lady Katarina.’

  ‘I do not think this news would help the grieving king, do you?’

  ‘The Gonk has heard bearers of bad news are rarely well received.’

  ‘And what might your report to King Rodera contain?’ she asked.

  ‘The King knows nothing of the Gonk’s suspicions. Such is the Gonk’s cleverness that the King believes the Gonk is here only to bonk Prince Rolfen over the head at the appropriate time.’

  Steven grunted in surprise. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘If you fail,’ the Gonk said, ‘Meracia must not lose its only remaining heir. A ship is ready should Galantrium fall and Captain Marland is prepared to do the, ah, heavy lifting as it were.’

  Katarina considered it for a moment. ‘You might be tempted to tell King Rodera.’

  The Gonk sighed. ‘No. He has suffered enough without learning that his son was a traitor.’

  She lowered the dagger and took a step back. ‘Steven is mine,’ she said. ‘You would do well to remember that.’

  The Gonk nodded as Steven propped himself up on his elbows. ‘You’re letting him live? We should kill him.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, dear. We are not enemies and may even need his help one day. For now though,’ she turned to the Gonk, ‘I trust you can find your own way out?’

  The Gonk grinned, flourished a bow, and darted out of the room before Steven had even finished swearing.

  ‘If you’re quite done?’ she asked. ‘Did you know the innkeeper has found some ale that isn’t nine-tenths water?’

  He was out of the room before Katarina could ask about Prince Julien’s death.

  *

  The crowd had grown by three by the time Katarina returned downstairs. Three grumpy women who looked surprised they were still alive.

  She sat down next to Steven as Rachel spoke.

  ‘We’re fine, thank you.’

  He looked up as if he’d just noticed they were there. ‘What?’

  He really is grumpy when he wakes up.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Rachel continued, sarcasm falling out of her mouth like halitosis. ‘No need to thank us for saving your life. And don’t worry about whether we’re injured, it’s inconsequential, really.’

  Steven lowered his mug. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind.’

  ‘So I’ve heard,’ Rachel said, her eyes fixing on Katarina. ‘What are our lives compared to your marriage plans?’

  He muttered a curse. ‘Thank you for helping me in Obsidian.’

  He stopped there, so Katarina elbowed him.

  ‘I wouldn’t have made it out without the three of you,’ he admitted, if somewhat ungraciously. ‘I’m glad you’re all alright and if there’s anything I can do—’

  ‘There is,’ Rachel interrupted. ‘Tell us of the treasure you took from the convent. You owe us that, at least.’

  He nodded. ‘I do, but it’s not my secret to tell.’

  ‘You knights! You’re always claiming to be bound by honour, but only when it suits you.’ She thrust a finger towards Kartane. ‘This idiot’s the most uncouth man I’ve ever met, with all the principles of a rat.’ She jabbed a finger at Steven. ‘You’ve caused more deaths than I can count,’ the finger swung towards Valeron, ‘and I saw this idiot in Obsidian – on the morning of the bloody battle, no less –
being chased out of a house by some merchant shouting about his ruined daughters. You should be ashamed of yourselves, all of you. People like you ruin all the church strives to achieve!’

  Katarina smiled as Steven and the assembled knights fell silent, their heads drooping in shame. About time somebody put them in their place. Even Kartane looked horrified, an expression Katarina had never thought to see on his face. Only the one called Valeron seemed unfazed, a mixture of awe and amusement on his face.

  ‘My lady,’ he said, his face suddenly becoming serious, ‘you have humbled us all.’ He smiled. ‘In my defence, however, they were twins. What was I supposed to do?’ He ducked, but not quickly enough to avoid the mug of ale Rachel had thrown. She looked about to launch herself at Valeron, but Isallien put a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘War is not for the faint of heart,’ he said gravely. ‘You and your sisters have proved your worth and the Seven will always be in your debt. It is not too late to leave,’ he said, holding up a hand to forestall her, ‘but I would gladly fight with you and your sisters beside me should you decide to stay.’

  Impressive, Katarina thought as the nun quietened, seemingly assuaged. That is a dangerous man indeed. He caught her watching and winked. A man not to be underestimated.

  Steven thumped his mug down onto the table. ‘Why don’t we go for a walk?’ he asked her. ‘It’s the last time we’ll have together before the battle.’

  ‘Very well.’ She ignored the sniggers from the knights. ‘Just a walk,’ she told him.

  ‘I’d better come along,’ Korwane said. ‘Can’t afford to lose you the night before the battle.

  ‘Finish your ale,’ Kartane grunted, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. ‘I’ll go. Every time I leave him alone he gets into an adventure without me.’

  ‘There will be no adventuring,’ Katarina said. ‘Not of any kind. Stetch will accompany us.’

  Stetch didn’t look very pleased. As a gesture of goodwill, Katarina didn’t complain when he left the inn with a full mug of ale.

  44.

  Tol stepped out into the cool night air and took in a deep breath. The city was quiet, eerie. Most of the people who lived in Galantrium had already left; once they’d seen the survivors of Obsidian limp back through the gates it was no longer possible to believe the Gurdal would be stopped short of Siadendre’s aged walls, repelled before even seeing Galantrium itself. They’re probably the smart ones, Tol thought. There were still some residents too stubborn or infirmed to leave though. Here and there a lone candle cast light onto the street.

  ‘Why were you in such a hurry to leave?’ Katarina asked, her face an alluring collage of suspicion. ‘Surely apologising to those nuns wasn’t so bad?’

  Tol took her hand. ‘Trust me,’ he said.

  She snorted. ‘When have I not?’

  ‘Well,’ he smiled, ‘there was that time you forgot to tell me you’re a duke’s daughter, and—’

  ‘—That was an oversight. It completely slipped my mind.’

  ‘And you didn’t tell me you’d seen what happened at Icepeak.’

  ‘I was preoccupied.’

  ‘And that time you left me tied up and gagged in a ship’s hold.’

  ‘I knew you’d bring that up! Besides,’ she added, ‘it was a cabin, not the hold.’

  ‘My mistake.’

  Tol led Katarina north through the city’s streets, the echo of Stetch’s stomping feet - and occasional loud slurp of ale - punctuating the quiet night air. Now and again they’d hear a snatch of laughter carried on the breeze as others in the city tried to make the best of their last night of peace. This is nice, Tol thought as they left the centre of the city behind. Quiet, like Icepeak at night, or those few nights I remember before my father sent me there. It seemed like a long time ago since he’d been forced to flee the abbey, a long time since his adventure began. Now, finally, it felt like he had time to rest, to think. It wouldn’t last, but for a time Tol just enjoyed the quiet, content to have Katarina at his side. After a while, the inn far behind them, he heard her sigh, and knew that her tolerance was at an end. It was longer than I expected, he thought. But she always has questions. So many questions. Tonight, he knew, was the night he would have to provide more fulsome answers. Or lose her forever. A week ago that might not have seemed such a bad thing – a small price to pay to keep his secrets intact. Now, though… things were different.

  ‘Father says they will come at dawn.’

  ‘He’s right.’

  ‘I saw their army from his ship,’ Katarina said, a note of worry in her voice. ‘I’ve never seen that many people.’

  Tol nodded. ‘They won’t come yet. They’ll camp as close to the walls as they can so they don’t have far to travel in the morning.’ That’s what I’d do. Let the enemy see your strength. It’s hard to get a good night’s sleep when you know there’s thousands of men camped a few hundred yards away.

  Katarina was quiet a minute. ‘Do you think we can win?’

  Tol squeezed her hand. ‘I do.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Steven.’

  ‘If I’m wrong, you can say “I told you so”.’

  She looked up into his eyes and smiled, but it didn’t quite mask the concern underneath. ‘I will hold you to that.’ Katarina turned her head back to the road. ‘You realise, of course, that there will still be no fornication before the battle?’

  ‘Not even a little bit?’

  ‘None.’ Her voice left no room for doubt.

  ‘Oh, well,’ Tol sighed, ‘I suppose some things are worth waiting for.’

  Her elbow caught him just below the ribs. ‘You suppose? I will have you know…’

  She stopped as Tol shook with laughter. ‘Very funny, Steven.’

  Tol forced himself to look serious. ‘You were saying something? What was it I should know?’

  ‘You should know…’ Katarina composed herself. ‘That I am not amused. Where did you say we were going?’

  Tol smiled. ‘I didn’t.’

  *

  ‘You can come out now.’ They were standing at the city’s eastern edge, the soft susurration of waves faintly audible beyond the city wall. ‘There’s nobody else here.’

  Katarina thumped him. ‘I am not nobody.’

  Tol sighed. ‘That’s not what I meant.’ He could sense her. She was close enough that he knew to within a few feet where she stood. Waiting. Listening.

  Kalashadria stepped out from the side of the last house, a run-down dwelling dark and abandoned. His breath caught in his throat for a second as she emerged from the darkness, bone-white like a wraith. Her wings were bunched behind her back, feathered tips protruding above her shoulders.

  ‘There are two nobodys,’ Kalashadria said. She came forward, stopping a few yards in front of Tol. Her eyes fixed on a point past his shoulder. ‘You might as well come forward. I can see you well enough anyway.’

  Tol heard Stetch grumble something unintelligible, the heavy thump of his feet echoing through the narrow street a moment later. He tried not to smile, but it felt good to see the angel again. It’s been so long.

  ‘You must be Katarina,’ she said. ‘Tol has spoken of you often.’

  ‘So he should,’ the angry little bundle of woman next to him muttered. She met the angel’s gaze, her voice suddenly firm. ‘He’s mine.’

  Tol felt a twinge of emotion through his bond with angel. It shut down suddenly before he could identify it. Disappointment? Anger?

  Kalashadria’s eyes swivelled back to him. ‘You love this creature?’

  Tol swallowed. ‘I do. We… we are to be married.’

  She nodded, her eyes suddenly sad. ‘And what of your vow? What of tomorrow?’

  Katarina stamped her foot. ‘You will release him from his oath,’ she half-shouted. ‘He has done more than enough for you and your kind.’

  Tol put a hand on Katarina’s shoulder and she fell silent. He could feel her shaking. Almost as if she’s angry. ‘We will fight the dem
ons together,’ he told Kalashadria, ‘but when it’s over I… I would ask that you release me from my oath.’

  Kalashadria studied him for a long time. ‘Are you sure this is what you desire?’

  He nodded. ‘It is.’

  The angel sighed. ‘We will not meet again after tomorrow.’

  Tol kicked a pebble. ‘I’ll miss you,’ he said awkwardly, trying to pretend he didn’t hear the sudden hiss of inhalation from Katarina. ‘But I can’t do this any more. I don’t know how I’ve lived this long, and each demon seems faster than the last.’ He shook his head, unable to meet her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I understand,’ Kalashadria said, but he could sense dark thoughts swirling through the bond which connected them. ‘You have done your species proud. Had it not been for you, I would never have come to see the potential of humans.’ She shrugged her shoulders, a feather drifting loose. ‘The war would already be lost if not for you.’

  Katarina gasped softly, and Tol saw a faint smile spread across the angel’s face. ‘So,’ she said, ‘you have not yet told her everything.’ She gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Some secrets are hard to share.’

  Don’t tell her about what we did, Tol thought desperately. Please don’t. He knew she couldn’t read his mind exactly, but he hoped she would get a sense of how uncomfortable he felt. Don’t tell her about what happened that night in Meracia. ‘We’ve been busy,’ he mumbled, suddenly conscious of Katarina’s stillness and her little sharp breaths.

  ‘You did something to him,’ Katarina said. ‘You changed him. He told me when the poison didn’t kill him.’ Katarina thrust her head forward. ‘And whatever it is you did, you will undo it now.’

  Tol bit his lip. This was getting more and more uncomfortable as the two women in his life faced off against each other. Why did I think Katarina should meet her? In hindsight it seemed like a foolish mistake.

  Kalashadria held Katarina’s burning gaze, utterly unfazed. She waited a moment then said, ‘It cannot be undone. We are bound together until death.’