Fall of Angels

CXI

ZELDYAN SITS NEARLY upright in the rocking chair, Nesslek on her shoulder, patting him as he cries. “Now … now …” She nods to Sillek. “What did Terek tell you? You went running out of here like the Westhorns had burst into flame.”

Sillek looks down at the uneaten remnants of his midday meal. “I’m worried.”

“That is obvious.” She continues to pat Nesslek.

Her son arches his back slightly and gives an uccurpppp.

“There … does little Nesslek’s tummy feel better? There …” Zeldyan raises an eyebrow. “Does this have to do with your adventuresome wizard’s exploits?”

“He’s dead. Somehow they turned his wizardry back on him and cut him down with cold iron.” Sillek stands and walks to the window, his eyes looking toward the fields filled with grain turning gold, a gold he does not see though his eyes rest upon the fields. “They have demon blades-or angel blades-or something. Hissl threw his fire at the head angel, and she turned it with her blade. I didn’t see it in the glass, but Terek swears it happened.”

“Do you believe him?”

Nesslek whimpers again, and Zeldyan brings him up to her shoulder, patting him once more.

“I’ve never seen him look that shaken.”

“How many of Hissl’s armsmen survived?”

“A handful, if that. They were led by a big man who was one of the best I’ve seen. He had a big blade, as big as my father’s, and he used it like a toothpick. It wasn’t enough.”

“What about the angels?”

Sillek turns from the sunlight and the window. “They lost some. How many I couldn’t say, but there seem to be as many as before. Their leader was wounded, but she was still giving orders. I don’t know about their mage. They were carrying him off the field, but the glass didn’t show any blood. Terek thinks he was only stunned, says that he tied Hissl’s magic in knots at the end.”

“You’re very worried.”

“You know why,” Sillek answers. “They’ll get more women after this. They know how to train them. They have blades that turn wizards’ fire and cut through plate armor. They have bows that send arrows through anything. I have Ildyrom stirring up rumors that I’m a coward, and that I intend to turn Lornth over to the women. I have my own holders who will demand that I destroy this abomination, and what will I get out of it?” Sillek snorts. “If I’m unlucky, I’m dead. If I’m lucky, I’ll win a victory that will destroy me. To win, I’ll need to raise an army-not a force, but an army as big as the one that took Rulyarth-and I can’t pull your father out of Rulyarth, or the forces that support him. So I need more mercenaries and levies, and both are expensive. That means a tax on the holders. Who else has got coins? That will make them mad, and they won’t remember that it’s their bitching that created the mess.”

“It is that bad, isn’t it?”

Nesslek burps again before his father can respond.

“It’s worse. I hate those women. Just by existing, they’re going to destroy me, one way or another.”

“No they won’t. Life is never easy, but you can defeat them. I know you don’t want to, and I don’t, either, but we don’t want a holder revolt, either.” Zeldyan smiles. “When you come back, then you certainly won’t have any trouble with Ildyrom.”

“No. That’s true. One way or another I won’t have to worry about Ildyrom.” He walks over to the chair. “Let me take Nesslek. You haven’t had a bite to eat, and all I’ve done is talk.”

“Careful,” says Zeldyan with a laugh. “You shouldn’t let anyone see you acting like a nursemaid.”

“Bother that,” mutters Sillek, lifting Nesslek up to his shoulder. “I’m a nursemaid to all those holders who are afraid that, if those women survive up on that mountain, they won’t be able to keep beating their own up.”

“I never would have thought you’d say that.”

“I’ve learned a lot from you.” Sillek pats his son on the back and smiles at Zeldyan.