Archangel’s Ascension

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  “Albert, I really thought you’d died—I saw you die!”

  She stroked his face. She could feel the skin, soft to her touch. There was an awakening of desire, dormant after so many years of politics and intrigue. Now, they were a long way from that snake pit and in the safest place in the Empire, according to what a very chatty lad had told her. The Dungeon of Thieves. She had never heard of any dungeon, but this place was doing her husband a great deal of good.

  “Eulalia, I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t tell you about our plan with the Faceless Baron—”

  “The what now? My dearest, you might just as well be talking in code, I don’t understand a thing.”

  “The Faceless Baron is the leader of the Dungeon of Thieves. The government knew about its existence and what it was doing, but we never suspected it was such a well-organized group. They go beyond us in so many ways that all I can do is show my respect to them.”

  “My love, I don’t follow. What plans? What thieves?”

  “They’re going to help us out, my dearest. They’re the salvation of the Empire and its people. It all began when Mérdmerén, a banished counselor, came to warn me about the threat from the legions of the South that are marching against us. Cantus de Aligar tried to silence him, but one of the thieves, a very smart boy called Turi the Crafty, made contact with me. Since then, we’ve been in this situation, my dear. The business with the Baron was very easy. The Council of Kings was planning to take the throne. The thieves promised me lands if I helped them to establish another regime in exchange for my crown.”

  “What’s going to become of us now, if we’re not a part of the royal family any longer?”

  “We’ll have everything we need, don’t you worry. We’ll be protected. They’ve promised me that. No, we’re no longer royal in any way.”

  “And you believe them?”

  “Yes, my love, I believe them. And in any case, we have no option. If I hadn’t accepted their deal, I’d have lost the throne, my life, and both of you. Working hand-in-hand with the Baron, we’ll be safe, and we won’t have to go without anything.”

  “Who will the new leader be? You know your family will be eager to claim the throne!”

  “The Baron has a plan to thwart their claim. The throne is open, for now. Hakama will take over temporarily and then—well, we hope our new leader will take over.”

  “And who is this new leader?” asked Eulalia indignantly.

  “Mérdmerén.”

  “The Deserter? You’re telling me a beggar’s going to take the throne!”

  “He’s our savior.”

  “Oh. Well, anyway, you’re alive, my love. That’s what I care about most.”

  “Wanna play—Father, who’th that?”

  “My name is Greyson,” said the man. There were marks of fighting on his face and a long grey mustache. “Hakama is already on his way to take over the royal palace. Soon will come the hardest part of the plan, and we still don’t know whether there’ll be any way back from it. In two days, it’ll be our turn to fight Némaldon. The battle will be bloody, and to win, we need more than just luck. Here’s food for you: mutton and rose juice. Eat, because hell is about to take over our streets.”

  Albert Aheron listened, wide-eyed. In a couple of days, disaster would fall upon them. Darkness had reached them.

  Eulalia shivered. “Oh, my love. War. I pray that we may win.”

  “I hope Deathslayer’s still alive and able to lead the battle. He’s the only one who can manage it with Strangelus’ help. These are difficult times, my love. If we come out of this, I’d like us to go to the country and live simply. It would be wonderful to get rid of the protocol and all those interfering gossips. I always wanted to be a minstrel, did you know that?”

  “You’d make a terrible minstrel, my love,” said Eulalia. Her mother had always warned her that her future king and husband was too soft inside. She had learned to love the man, and now with their only child, Hortense, she was convinced the king was the man of her life. But now that he was no longer a king, Albert had lost his social stature in the blink of an eye. She was less attracted to him, that was true enough. As far as she was concerned, living a simple peasant life in the country was a dreadful prospect. She was not used to doing anything, and life as a peasant was very difficult. But, alas, they were alive. Perhaps she would find happiness in this new path the gods had offered her.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea what the enemy’s planning, but I expect they’re coming for everything. The only thing we can do is pray to the God of Light.”

  ***

  The survivors of Kathanas were now very near their destination. Long, torturous days had gone by since they had glimpsed the gleam of the imperial capital from afar. From their position, they could see a huge cloud of dust, and they wondered whether it would be the legions of their side or those of the enemy.

  The general was better. Balthazar had healed his wounds, although his broken arm still bothered him. At any rate, he felt thankful and lucky; he might have been dead like the thousands of souls who had been buried under the ruins of Kathanas. The disaster had been on such a scale that he was impressed by the number of people who had survived. They had been joined by different groups of exiles along the way, and now there were more than two hundred of them marching toward Háztatlon to meet the forces of Némaldon with some on horseback and some on foot.

  Deathslayer’s eyes turned to his companions. Lulita was lost in thought, perhaps reflecting on the same concerns. Elgahar and Gáramond were lost in deep silence, mourning for the death of the master of magic arts.

  “Leandro,” Lulita said warily. “That cloud of dust…” She looked older than ever.

  “On we go!” Leandro cried. He was beginning to notice that his strength was failing him.

  The twenty riders rode faster and soon glimpsed the silver gleam of armor.

  “By the divine Gods, what on earth can have happened?” Lulita cried.

  Amid the dust, the flags of Omen appeared. The general smiled. “Comrades, we’ve arrived at the right moment. They’ve summoned the Imperial Army. What I don’t know is how they’ve managed it. I hope the Council of the Kings has come to reason. I’m certainly surprised.”

  “It’s a good sign,” said the glutton philosopher enthusiastically. He seemed to have lost weight. His face betrayed the exhaustion of so many days of fighting, hunger, and thirst. “Oh, how I’d love to have my pipe and tobacco!”

  Leandro glanced at his counselor and smiled. “Let’s be on our way. I have to join the king and Hakama so that we can plan a strategy for defense against Némaldon.”

  “That, and get our strength back,” Lulita said. She sounded more lively. “And a hot bath wouldn’t come amiss.”

  ***

  Mérdmerén was devoted to his wife, body and soul. The lung disease she was suffering from was about to take her to her grave.

  “Ajedrea, tell her whatever you have to tell her. I don’t think she has much time left.”

  Mérdmerén bowed his head, his long, black hair streaked with white falling to cover his face. He was relieved to have made his peace with his wife before she died, but now he needed to focus on the role he had been assigned in the new course of the Empire.

  He felt tired. All he felt like doing was eating and sleeping.

  “You look drained, old friend.”

  He recognized that cavernous voice at once, which cheered him up. The sight of Ságamas’ rosy, well-fed face gladdened him.

  “I haven’t forgotten my Stingray, but for the moment, I’m staying here and waiting for the load of crap that’s ahead of us. The Baron’s been a genius, and I take my hat off to him. But listen.” The sailor chewed his pipe and tapped his wooden leg on the stone floor. “If the armies of the other cities don’t come to our aid, we’re screwed. I don’t believe Kathanas’ll manage to stop the army that’s attacking it, and if that city falls, there’s no hope for us.”

  “You’re right,
my friend, but we mustn’t be pessimistic. We have to go on.”

  “And you, boss, d’you feel okay?”

  “I’ll go to Merromer with you to find your ship, and then we’ll go to Moragald’Burg and devote ourselves to bloody fishing. I’ve avenged my wife and my daughter; now I feel whole.”

  “They say you kicked the ass out of Cantus de Aligar,” the sailor said with a smile.

  “That’s right, but the son of a bitch came back from the dead,” Mérdmerén said and showed him Stern’s Dagger. “I killed him with this.”

  “You bought it in that beautiful village in Nabas,” the old man said with a touch of nostalgia. “I often remember our adventures.”

  They began to talk about the times they had spent together on that journey from the South, where there were so many moments to remember.

  “This time, things are going to be different, Ságamas. We’ll be facing an army of bastards who could exterminate us.”

  “Ah, go away. Go to your wife and daughter. They need you more than I do. I just came in to say hello. It’s been a long time since I saw you, boss. Now you really are a boss, eh? When you’re the king, or whatever it is the Baron’s worked out for you, don’t forget me.” The sailor gave him a broad smile. Threads of smoke escaped through his teeth.

  ***

  As the general and his entourage joined the river of soldiers from Omen, a battalion detached itself to threaten them with their spears and swords.

  “Who goes there?” asked the captain of the battalion.

  “I am Leandro Deathslayer.”

  A soldier took his helmet off and lowered his spear.

  “Identify yourselves or die!” yelled the captain.

  The general dismounted from his horse and went up to him. He recognized the captain.

  The general’s features and his armor were unmistakable. There were cries of joy.

  “The general’s back! What a surprise, by all the holy saints! Thanks be to the God of Light!”

  “Well met, Captain Teros. Your orders are to escort the survivors from Kathanas and help those in need. I will have all of them within the city walls.”

  “General, as you command.”

  Teros gave the orders, and off the battalion went to aid those in need.

  ***

  The city was crowded with soldiers and people. Leandro and those with him rode on without stopping, but at the same time, taking care not to knock anybody down. The palace's high, thick walls were guarded by cavalry and foot soldiers, who looked too young and inexperienced.

  “Who’s this riding here as if this were his home?” asked the captain in charge of the battalion protecting the palace.

  The general dismounted with difficulty due to his broken arm and took off his helmet. He did not flinch at the sight of the row of archers aiming their arrows at him.

  “I’m General Leandro Deathslayer.”

  “My general! I apologize for my imprudence, but weren’t you in the South?”

  Everybody was silent. The fact that the general was here, with one arm useless and accompanied by only a handful of warriors, was a sufficiently eloquent reply. A wave of terror swept through the soldiers. They had heard rumors of the advance of a lethal army, but the fact that the Council of Kings had not organized any defense meant that they had taken little notice of the news.

  “These people with you, my lord?” the captain said with audible scorn. Not all Mandrakians thought highly of the Wild Men of Devnóngaron or the peoples of the South.

  “They’re my comrades and highly skilled soldiers. Without their help, I’d be in a coffin now instead of here giving you orders. I need to speak with Hakama at once. We need to get ready for an all-out war. Némaldon is closing in, and they won’t stop until they’ve murdered us all.”

  The captain turned pale. He gave a signal, and his men moved aside to make way for the general and his team.

  ***

  “The king’s dead. He was murdered,” Hakama said. He was walking down a corridor, escorted by a group of thirty soldiers armed to the teeth.

  They had occupied the palace without meeting any resistance, thanks to the fact that most of the counselors were dead. Some had tried to resist, either out of loyalty to the king or because they were on the side of Aligar and Melda, but they had all ended up understanding that the regime had changed and had accepted Hakama’s leadership.

  “Aheron’s relatives will demand their dynastic rights. The political game will soon start.”

  Leandro was pale. His friend of decades had been murdered, and he had not even seen his coffin. He could not believe it. And now the Duke of Omen had been sent for, along with the Imperial Army. Too many things had happened in too short a time. And he urgently needed to see his family.

  “Has the news from the South reached you?” the general asked with feeling.

  The duke stopped and looked closely at him.

  “And what the hell’s happened to you? You look as if you’ve come from hell itself. You’re filthy. Your appearance is unacceptable.”

  The general sighed. “Ágamgor has fallen. Némaldon has crossed the border and is destroying everything in its path. Their army has divided. One faction has destroyed Kathanas. We’re some of the few survivors who managed to escape. Strangelus sacrificed himself. Thanks to him, we were able to escape from death. The other faction is approaching Háztatlon. We have to prepare for utter chaos, Hakama. It took a few days for Kathanas to fall. Háztatlon won’t hold out for even a few hours.”

  Everybody was silent; not even a sigh could be heard. Hakama took a closer look at the general and his companions and recognized one of his own prodigies. “Gramal?” he asked. He was shocked to see him with such short hair. “Where’s your bloody armor? And your claymore?”

  Gramal told the story of what he had been through. His experience was revealed as even worse than the general’s as he spoke of evil deeds that ended with losing his armor and sword.

  “My lord, what we’ve seen and lived through was unlike anything since the Times of Köel. Difficult days are on their way—and decisive ones.”

  “May the Gods deliver us. Go and get new armor,” Hakama whispered. “You won’t find anything like that hand-crafted Brutal Fark-Amon armor of yours, but grab what you can from the armory. That blade will work for an enchantment.”

  “At least the God of Light has come back,” Lulita said with a smile.

  Hakama shot her a look of defiance. Who was this old wild-born woman, and why did she think she was privileged to speak to the captain of the Brutal Fark-Amon?

  Chapter XXXIII- Preparation

  Luchy was looking out at the night with the wind blowing in her face and ruffling her hair. She was thinking about Manchego. His image was engraved in her mind and heart. What would he be doing now? The sky was cloudy, and blackness was spreading across it with the arrival of the enemy. She was remembering San San-Tera, the black cloud, the disaster. All those relatives, friends, and neighbors, brutally murdered. The living sacrificed to resurrect a demon, the same one who had dragged Manchego into the depths only to emerge later with that body, that voice, and that appearance.

  “We’ll be back to the war in no time,” Lulita said after a few hours of restless sleep. She was too tired to rest properly, and the bustle in the palace did not help either.

  The room was lined with luxurious tapestries and decorated with hydrangeas. There were several beds along with wash-basins and mirrors, all ready for the visits of the nobility from other cities.

  The grandmother sat up in her bed and rubbed her face, which was now clean. Her clothes smelt of soap, and the scent took her back to those years in San San-Tera when Manchego was just a boy, the heir to the estate.

  They heard a scratching at the door. Lulita picked up her ax. Luchy smiled.

  “It’s an old friend. He comes to see me every day.”

  She opened the door, and Rufus came in. Despite his age, the dog appeared lively and full of energy.
He licked Luchy, then went to Lulita whom he recognized at once. His whines were of pure bliss.

  “Oh, my dear little doggie, how I’ve missed you! You don’t know how good it is to see you.”

  Rufus barked with a touch of unease.

  “I know, little one. I miss him too,” Lulita said. “But Manchego has other things to do. Now that he’s the God of Light. He always was.”

  Rufus barked again.

  “You knew he was special, didn’t you?” the woman said, ruffling the hair that fell over his eyes.

  The dog barked again and licked her face.

  ***

  Leandro was holding his twins, one in each arm. They were about to turn four years old and showed promise of being two handsome lads when they grew up. The general was happy. He was enjoying his family once again in his role of loving father, playing, hugging, kissing his little earthquakes of inexhaustible energy. Karolina watched them, moved, and still unable to fully believe the story of disaster and tragedy her husband had narrated to her.

  “And your father is going to protect you; there’s nothing to be afraid of. And now go and eat some capers!”

  “Don’t frighten them, my love,” Karolina reproached him gently. “They’re only three.”

  “The truth is what it is, my dear, and it’s one our children are going to know very soon.”

  Karolina nodded gravely, aware of the seriousness of the days they had been fated to live through. A military camp had been set up outside the city walls for all those who could fight. Whether men or women, all had been summoned to take part in this definitive war; if they fled they would be considered Deserters. Children, the elderly, and invalids were being moved to the seaport city of Merromer. If the Empire should fall, the survivors would migrate to Grizna or Moragald’Burg. But although nobody dared say so aloud, all of them knew that if evil defeated the Mandrake Empire, it would crush the rest of humanity too.