Angel's Deceit (Angelwar Book 2)

by A. J. Grimmelhaus

  Tol sucked in a ragged breath. Stetch was hurrying towards him, two corpses behind him and a red-smeared blade in his hands. Over his shoulder, Tol saw Vixen at the far end of the clearing, a bow in her hands. He turned a full circle, took in all of the corpses. Victory. It tasted sour, and even the word felt wrong as Tol’s eyes settled on Kalashadria’s sword lying on the grass. He flicked the gore from his own blade and trudged towards it. He stood staring at it, unable to look away. Kalashadria had gone to great pains to make it clear that the weapons of her kind were not mere swords, but something more, something far more precious. She would never leave her sword.

  Stetch appeared at his side. ‘Idiot,’ he grunted with a hint of what might have been admiration. His eyes swept the ground, something catching his attention. The Sudalrese warrior strode to a spot a few feet from Kalashadria’s fallen sword, squatting down on his haunches and picking something up from the ground. He brushed the dirt off and held it up in the last of the day’s light.

  A ring? It looked to Tol a lot like the family ring Katarina wore.

  Stetch looked up and met his eyes. ‘She was here.’

  Tol gestured helplessly to the sword a few paces away. ‘Kalashadria, too.’

  ‘You stupid man,’ Vixen shouted in his ear. She grabbed Tol, shaking him as she thrust her ruddy face close to his own. ‘What were you thinking?’ Over her shoulder Tol could see the others catching up, crossing the brook and heading towards them. ‘You could have gotten yourself killed,’ Vixen continued. ‘Why didn’t you wait?’

  Tol said nothing, the last of his anger dissipating and leaving him bone-tired. As Vixen released him, he nearly fell to the ground. ‘I was too late.’

  Kartane was the first to reach them, one cool glance taking in the bodies and fresh blood covering Tol and Stetch. ‘Could have waited for me,’ he muttered, wandering off to examine the knight lying at the edge of the clearing.

  Tol turned back to Vixen, but she just shook her head, walking over to the spot where Kalashadria’s sword lay.

  ‘Is this hers?’ Vixen asked. ‘It’s the finest steel I’ve seen.’

  ‘Don’t touch it,’ Tol growled as Vixen reached down.

  Vixen looked up. ‘It’s just a sword.’

  ‘No,’ Tol said, remembering Kalashadria’s words when he had claimed Galandor’s blade was “just a sword”. It is anything but that, Kalashadria had told him. Later, she had told him a little more of Illis’Andiev, though most of it was vague and unhelpful. The angel had even suggested the weapon was like a person, with its own mind and own will.

  ‘It’s not just a sword,’ he told Vixen. ‘To the angels their swords are much more than weapons.’ He shrugged helplessly, unable to describe something he didn’t understand. ‘They are protective of them,’ he said after a moment. ‘They are not meant for us.’

  ‘And yet you have one just like it.’

  ‘She said it chose me,’ Tol said awkwardly.

  Vixen stared at him like he was stupid. ‘It’s not a person, Tol, just a sword.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ The more Tol thought about, the more he thought Kalashadria had been right about Illis’Andiev. In their fight against the demon Klanvahdor, he had wielded the weapon with every ounce of skill he had and the weapon had almost seemed to come alive in his hands. Then, as the demon had pushed him back there had been that perfect moment of clarity when he had seen what was coming, seen the demon’s pattern before it unfolded and realised his only way to defeat the beast. And what about that dagger thrown only moments ago? I didn’t see it, didn’t know it was coming. Somehow, he had drawn perfectly, bringing up the sword in a guard so the flat of the blade was in the perfect position to deflect the incoming dagger. Is there something more to these weapons?

  There must have been something in his voice, because Vixen let the matter drop, stepping carefully away from Kalashadria’s sword as though it was a snake readying to strike.

  Suranna and the nuns joined them, their eyes dancing quickly across the dead bodies littering the clearing. ‘Where are they?’ Suranna asked.

  ‘Gone.’

  ‘And the angel?’ Rachel asked.

  Tol shook his head, grateful when Kartane called his name.

  ‘Get over here,’ the knight called, hunched over the bloody form of a dead knight.

  They all traipsed across the clearing, forming a crescent round the body with Kartane on the far side. The knight looked up, waiting a moment until Stetch strode over and joined him.

  ‘Vinson,’ Kartane told them. ‘One of the Reve. He’s supposed to be on his way to the Spur.’

  ‘So what’s he doing here?’ Tol asked.

  ‘Taking the fall.’ Kartane pulled up the man’s sleeve and pointed to a faint pink mark circling the knight’s wrist. ‘Looks like he was held prisoner, killed here and left so that the blame would fall on the Reve for the abduction.’ He glowered at Tol. ‘This looks bad, boy.’

  Tol nodded grimly. First the prince is taken, then Katarina’s sister, and for all I know Kalashadria is dead. Now someone’s trying to blame it all on the Reve and discredit the church. ‘We have to find them,’ he said. ‘Our only chance is to find the prince and prove the Reve didn’t do this.’

  ‘They could be anywhere,’ Vixen protested. ‘There’s tracks all over the clearing, too many to make sense of.’

  Stetch snorted. ‘Came from the north,’ he said. ‘Didn’t go south or we’d have heard them. No tracks going back north, so either east or west.’ His eyes locked onto Tol. ‘Split up, cover both.’

  ‘No need,’ Kartane said. He stood up. ‘East,’ he said. ‘They went east.’

  Stetch gave him a look that would have made a weaker man quail. ‘Sure?’ was all he said.

  ‘We already know of one plot against the church, and the last man in it lives east of here. What are the chances there are two separate conspiracies running at the same time?’ Kartane looked to Tol. ‘They’ve taken them east.’

  ‘And if they haven’t,’ Tol said, ‘Drayken will know where they are.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ Stetch growled impatiently. ‘Bodies aren’t cold, they can’t be far ahead.’

  ‘Give me a moment.’ Tol walked over to Kalashadria’s sword and stared down at it a moment. He wiped the gore off his own weapon and carefully resheathed it. He took a breath then bent down and scooped up Kalashadria’s sword, not quite sure whether anything would happen. He stood there a moment until he was sure, then balanced the flat of the blade carefully over his shoulder. I can’t leave it here. If the weapons of the angels were as powerful as Kalashadria claimed, it was too great a risk.

  ‘Ready, girl?’ Stetch sounded more sarcastic than usual.

  Tol scowled at him, then turned to Vixen, Suranna and the Sisterguard. ‘The angel’s name is Kalashadria,’ he explained for the benefit of the nuns. ‘I don’t know if she’s alive or dead, but I’m going after her and the prince.’ Stetch coughed loudly, and Tol added, ‘And Lady Victoria, the Black Duke’s daughter.’

  ‘Hurry up,’ Stetch growled.

  ‘There will be a lot of armed men,’ Tol continued. ‘And anything that can harm an angel… I’ve seen her fight, and I only know one thing that could best her.’

  ‘A sodding demon,’ Kartane said.

  ‘Yes.’ Tol looked down at the ground, his eyes making out an all-too-familiar impression, a print left by nothing human. ‘A demon.’ He caught a sharp glance from Stetch, a warning not to say more, and Tol realised the Sworn man had already reached the same conclusion after examining the tracks. More than one demon. Tol’s heart went cold. ‘You don’t have to come,’ he told the women. ‘I’m not sure any of us will make it out alive; Drayken’s estate is well-guarded, and even if we get past the guards there’s a demon waiting for us.’

  Rachel and Bruna shared a quick glance, the heavyset woman quickly nodding at her companion. ‘We swore an oath, Kraven. The Sisterguard are with you.’ Both looked pale at the prospect of facin
g a demon, but Tol couldn’t help but admire their resolve. He wasn’t sure he would have done the same in their position.

  ‘As am I,’ Suranna added in a strained voice. ‘There is too much at stake for us to fail.’ She smiled, her face pale. ‘There is a debt to be repaid.’

  When Tol’s eyes shifted to Vixen his friend snorted. ‘You have to ask?’

  He grinned at Stetch. ‘Now we’re ready.’

  Tol pretended he didn’t understand the Sudalrese cursing. I think I know where Katarina learned all those words.

  45.

  There was a choice to be made when you had a knife buried deep in your neck. Either you could pull it out and bleed out fast, or leave it in and bleed out slow. Life had never been kind to Morafin, and the continued presence of a dagger in her neck was less a decision to cling to those last moments of life and more the absence of a decision to remove the knife. She lay on her back staring at the darkening sky, feeling the damp pool beneath her spread out, soaking through her clothes and chilling her skin. The numbness had started moments after Kraven and his minions had left, a tingling coldness that seeped into Morafin’s bones.

  ‘Damn you, Kraven,’ she croaked again. ‘Should have killed you in Norve when I had the chance.’ She didn’t have much longer, and as her mind began to meander, she found herself cursing her brother’s murderer, imagining his death in her mind’s eye a thousand different ways: skin peeled with a paring knife; decapitated by a battle axe; skewered by a dozen pikes. Thoughts of Kraven’s death seemed to stave off the cold.

  ‘I hope your angel kills you.’

  Pushed off a mountain; drowned in a river.

  ‘Or you see the angel die.’

  Hung from the gallows.

  The coldness was coming back now, and Morafin’s planned murders became more intricate, more elaborate in an effort to bring a semblance of warmth to the last moments of her life.

  Mauled by rabid dogs.

  ‘I hope it’s your fault the angel dies.’ Morafin shivered, numbness creeping through her arms, fingers insensate. ‘See the angel die, Kraven, and know it’s your fault. I hope you live just long enough to suffer before someone rips you apart.’

  Innards eaten by a bear. Strung up by his ankles and cut a hundred times. The trees rustled their leaves in agreement.

  ‘Kill the angel, then you.’ Morafin’s voice cracked, her throat dry. Breathing was becoming more difficult now and she knew the end was near. She stared up at the sky and waited, an autumnal rustling of leaves in the wind building to a crescendo.

  ‘Maybe I’ll kill an angel in heaven,’ she murmured as her eyelids fell shut.

  ‘Is that what you desire?’

  The voice sounded faraway. It was rough, gravelly. Powerful. ‘Are you the Maker?’

  ‘Not quite.’ The man sounded amused. Morafin felt him approach. Her eyes were so heavy she couldn’t open them, but she felt his presence at her side, felt his body’s warmth as he knelt beside her. ‘You want to kill an angel?’

  ‘Kraven,’ Morafin murmured. ‘Kill Kraven, but make him suffer.’ She drew in a ragged, weak breath. ‘Kill the angel to make him suffer.’

  ‘An interesting idea.’ Morafin heard a sucking noise, like someone licking their fingers after a sickly, sticky fruit. ‘But one I have already put into action.’

  ‘You killed her?’ Morafin felt her heart leap. For a moment the cold retreated.

  He licked his fingers again. ‘Perhaps you can be of use.’

  Morafin coughed with laughter, stifling it as pain lanced through her neck. ‘I’m dying.’

  ‘Yes.’ Another lick. ‘But you don’t have to. All you have to do is swear fealty.’

  Morafin didn’t even have to think before answering. A moment later, rough fingers forced her mouth open and Morafin felt thick drops of warm liquid hit the back of her mouth. She screamed as the agony scoured her throat until her voice gave out. When the dagger was ripped from her neck, she barely felt it.

  *

  ‘Faster.’

  The last of Stetch’s limited patience was evaporating with every passing minute. As the only one of the group familiar with the area, Suranna had urged Stetch to take a north-easterly route out of the forest, rather than the more direct path east. They had, she told the others, gone far enough into the hunting grounds that Drayken’s home was probably directly east of their position. The problem, Suranna had explained, was the river Khah, racing from the north towards High Mera and separating them from their destination.

  ‘We need to cross it,’ Suranna had patiently explained.

  ‘Swim,’ Stetch said.

  Before the river widened as it reached the city, parts of it were narrow, the waters fast-flowing with unpredictable currents that, Suranna explained, had caught more than a few unwary swimmers. ‘Safer to use a bridge,’ she had said. There were two. One, Tol had seen on his journey to survey Drayken’s estate, a simple wooden footbridge close to the city gates and several miles in the wrong direction. The other lay north of the hunting grounds, connecting to a path that ran past the rear of Drayken’s estate.

  ‘There’s woods at the rear of the estate,’ Suranna had told a dubious Stetch, who Tol thought seemed fixed on swimming at some point on their journey. ‘But there’s a lot of open ground at the front of the mansion where they’ll see us coming a mile away.’

  That had decided it, and Stetch had reluctantly allowed Suranna to lead them through the forest towards the bridge. He marched at her left shoulder, urging her onward every minute.

  ‘Faster,’ he growled again.

  Vixen stalked along behind Stetch, Rachel and the other nun – Berta, Rachel had called her – in the middle while Tol and Kartane brought up the rear. So far, Kartane had kept silent as they followed a few paces behind the others, but judging by the surreptitious glances coming his way Tol didn’t think it was going to last. Kartane looked like a man with questions, and Tol knew him well enough to know that ignoring those questions wouldn’t be a smart move. Maybe he’ll stay quiet and save his energy.

  ‘You think a single demon could overpower that angel of yours?’

  I guess not. ‘No,’ Tol said quietly. ‘There were two at the clearing.’

  Kartane was quiet a moment. ‘You think you can kill two of them?’

  No. ‘What choice do I have?’

  ‘Seems you’ve got two angel-forged blades there, and two demons need killing with them.’

  Tol glanced ahead, but the others were focused on following Suranna as Stetch kept trying to make the Meracian noblewoman move at a speed which suited him. ‘Faster,’ he growled again. Stetch’s preferred speed seemed to a sprint.

  ‘Kalashadria warned me about the swords,’ Tol said, keeping his voice low. ‘She said they can change a person.’

  ‘Any sword can change a person in the right hands. Usually changing them from alive to dead.’

  ‘That wasn’t what she meant,’ Tol said. ‘The swords… they seem to have some kind of awareness, something that makes them more than just weapons.’ He hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. ‘Kalashadria said they are the most powerful weapons on our world.’

  ‘More than just swords.’ Kartane chewed it over for a minute. ‘Maybe they make you a better swordsman. Valeron described those seconds he held the sword as though it was something beyond what he could normally do – a kind of perfect balance between man and steel.’

  Tol was surprised. He had expected Kartane to argue, to dispute Kalashadria’s claim. Instead, the knight seemed to accept it easily. Easier than I did.

  ‘Besides,’ Kartane added with a grin, ‘it’s not like you could fight your way out of a sack before you got your hands on that sword.’

  Tol chuckled. They both knew it wasn’t true; anyone that survived several years at the hands of Father Michael knew a lot more than which end of the sword to stick in your enemy. ‘That may not be as far from the truth as you think,’ Tol said, a lopsided grin vanishing from his face. He
explained how he had drawn the sword in the clearing, positioning it perfectly to deflect a throwing dagger he hadn’t even seen coming. ‘I think the sword may have guided my hand,’ he admitted.

  ‘But still you didn’t let your friend take the other one.’

  ‘I think maybe the sword can change other things,’ Tol confessed, his voice barely a whisper. ‘Kalashadria’s warning… she was genuinely concerned about what could happen.’

  ‘Maybe worth the risk, seeing as we’re outnumbered?’

  Tol nodded reluctantly, outnumbered was putting it mildly. Two demons and a horde of trained guards will be expecting us after last night’s murders. We might need a miracle. ‘But not until we get there. The less time it’s in your hands, the less it can change you.’

  ‘You hope.’

  They were approaching the edge of the woodland now, and Tol could hear the distant sound of rushing water. Yes, I hope. Hope seems to be all I have left. Hope and vengeance.

  ‘That sword of Galandor’s has been in your hands a few times.’

  Tol gritted his teeth. He liked it better when Kartane was just a mean drunk. Half-sober, he asked far too many penetrating questions.

  ‘You feel any different?’ Kartane persisted. ‘Grown wings, fallen in love with a pigeon?’

  ‘No wings,’ Tol muttered, his hands bunched into fists. ‘She told me that.’