Throne Hunters #5

Chapter 1

White fire, the swirling burn of the portal, and then hand in hand, Sam and Harald left Flutic behind to delve deep into the Fallen Angel dungeon once more.

One moment they’d been on the cobbled street outside Celestara Manor, the next they’d emerged into a spacious room filled with clear light.

A peaked glass ceiling glowed whitely far overhead above the canopy of a great tree that grew massively in the chamber’s center.

It was a cavern of sorts, ivy growing down over cool gray marble walls that encircled a single elegant room, a grand staircase at the back curving up and out of sight to a second floor open beneath the canopy, a low-slung couch settee and table placed square over a white rug.

Plants grew luxuriously in gold vases, and the air was sweet with the green scent of growth and fresh air.

“Damn, Sam,” said Vic, turning in a slow circle and taking in the huge chamber. “Maybe I should have angled for an Angel Seed. Eclavistra only offered me the closet where she kept her whips and chains.”

Sam’s hand was still in Harald’s own, and she squeezed before letting go, her smile self-conscious. “I—I know it feels grand, but I wanted a place with light, and—”

“Darling,” drawled Nessa, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “You’ve absolutely nothing to explain.”

Sam flushed. “It does feel exorbitant, and I don’t even know if I could relax in here, but it’s mine in name only, I haven’t even spent half a bell here. But the light—”

Harald raised his face to the gentle, benevolent radiance that filtered down from the slanted glass panes.

It wasn’t sunlight but felt instead like a blessing made manifest. Not warm, but still, it felt good to stand in its glow, as if it were his spirit that were being illuminated as well as his body. “I like it.”

“Well, I love it.” Vic strode over to the couch, dumped his pack, and sprawled onto it, kicking one boot onto the elegantly carved table. “But does it come with drinks? I’m already guessing that’s the drawback to going the angel route. No booze.”

“I don’t know,” said Sam, and began to cast around. “Perhaps somewhere here there’s—”

“Sam.” Nessa stepped over, linked arms, and pulled her away from Vic. “Ignore him. You’re under no obligation to host. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, right.” Sam smiled self-consciously. “Right. Of course. Old reflexes.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” grinned Vic.

Harald took a deep breath. The stillness, after the frenetic activity and violence of the past few hours, felt surreal. “I can’t believe we got away with it.”

“We almost didn’t,” said Nessa, pulling Sam over to the settee and pushing her down to sit. “That last moment with Thornar felt like it would be our last.”

Kársek had set his pack down and was inspecting the stonework, hands linked behind his back. “Why, may I ask, did Lady Hammerfell intervene?” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I am not complaining. I just hadn’t expected aid from that quarter.”

Harald considered. “She’s good people. I think that might be the best answer, actually.

She and I, we had some conversations before.

I felt like, maybe we made a connection, or…

” He trailed off, picturing the eight-foot-tall warrior, her elegance, her power, her striking features.

“Yeah. I think she simply couldn’t stand by any longer and watch Thornar and Doran and the rest of them indulge in their corruption. ”

“That’s going to be inconvenient for her, moving forward,” said Vic, who’d leaned forward abruptly to rummage through his pack.

“Seeing as the whole mess of them up there are nothing but corruption and toxic ambition.” He drew forth a small bottle triumphantly and admired it.

“Anybody want to toast the possibility of them all killing themselves over the Twilight Crown?”

“Sam.” Nessa sat lightly on the settee’s arm. “Our arrival here will be noticed, won’t it?”

Sam frowned. “Yes, I’m sure it will. Has been, I mean. Especially with Vic and Harald being Demon Seeds. We’ll probably have company any second now.”

“How tiresome.” Vic took a swig from his little bottle. “Ah, that’s nice. Can we put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice on the door? I really don’t feel like being bothered about being an agent of pure evil at the moment.”

“Where is Lady Anna?” Kársek turned away at last from the wondrously shaped gray marble walls.

“She chose not to come,” said Harald, heart growing heavy.

He saw her again, her resolve, her reluctance, her pain.

“At the last moment. She handed over her Artifacts, and… well. She said she couldn’t continue pretending to be a raider.

She released me from my oath and wished us all the best of luck. ”

“She what?” Nessa leaned forward. “She stayed behind by herself? She’ll be slaughtered.”

“We didn’t have time to react,” said Sam.

“She was decided. Said she’d spend the Infinitum to hire new guards, would distance herself from us.

I’m not happy about it, either—” And here she glanced at Harald.

“But she was only Level 3. Bringing her this deep into the dungeon felt unfair to her, too.”

“She’s a big girl,” said Vic, waving his hand. “And wickedly smart and resourceful to boot. Also, not having her around will make it easier for me to not feel guilty about stabbing her. So, it’s all worked out for the best.”

Harald leveled a hard stare at Vic, who met it with his usual insouciant grin. “I mean to go back soon to check in on her. But you’re right. She is wise and resourceful. Her chances of surviving the streets and politics of Flutic are far higher than surviving the 33rd Level of the dungeon.”

“In fact,” said Vic, “I think we should be worried about ol’ Alabenthos’ attitude to our being here. If I weren’t so tired, I’d be urging us to get down to the 34th.”

Sam rose to her feet, strode toward a pair of golden doors inset in the far wall, then stopped and turned back to them. “Perhaps I should head out and find Seraphina, or someone to whom I can explain what happened. If we just wait here—”

As if activated by her words, the massive gold doors swung open to reveal a towering juggernaut of an angel on the threshold. For a moment, Harald thought it Alabenthos himself, but no—as impressive as this huge angel was, it wasn’t the master of this domain himself.

But he was cast in the master angel’s mold.

The figure stood seven feet tall and was encased from toe to head in bulky slate blue war plate, the armor weathered and edged in baroque pale bronze.

He was as broad as two men, and his huge, white-feathered wings tripled his breadth, feathers as massive as two-handed swords, great big powerful wings that looked as if he could sweep away his foes with huge gusts merely by beating them.

A partial halo hovered over his head, a crescent whose tips nearly touched, and his helm was blank and featureless, a curved plate without indentation in the abstract shape of a skull.

But there was no doubting the angel-kin’s ability to perceive them—Harald felt the weight of his regard fall upon him like a heavy pressure.

Their company froze, the solemn, almost mythic-feeling presence of the new arrival arresting them where they sat and stood.

“Ho there, Samantha Tuppins!” The angel-kin’s voice was deep and sonorous. “You have returned, and with guests. Your continued existence is cause for celebration, but your choice in company leaves much to be desired.”

“I—hello.” Sam straightened. “These are my companions. Alabenthos has met them before and found them worthy.”

“Alabenthos is currently absent from his domain, leaving me, Exalted Brauxis as his Steward. The sanctity of this level is my concern, and I sense within these two men the presence of Demon Seeds most foul.”

“That’s true,” said Sam, “but Alabenthos knew of that, too. Is Seraphina present? She can vouch for all this.”

“Alas, Seraphina is absent as well.” The giant angel-kin reached up to rub at his chin with his armored fingers, causing a metallic scratching sound to be heard.

“The war continues apace. There is much gladsome fighting to be done. Unless you are a Steward. A position of honor, and I am honored, but it leaves one… housebound.”

Harald exchanged a glance with Vic. “You don’t get out much?”

“Not recently! But the honor is great. Were this level to be attacked by demons, I would be at the forefront, organizing the defense. Alas, we have not been attacked in far too long. Still.” Brauxis dropped his hand.

“Perchance one of you has taken a kitten or a hound as a Servitor? While I must request that you remain bound to this chamber until Alabenthos returns, I would be most grateful for the company of either of those noble animals.”

Harald couldn’t help but stare. “You’re asking if we brought pets?”

“The noblest of animals! While I find humans to be endlessly complicated, prone to fits and sulks, hounds especially are the best of company, and cats are a mysterious delight unto themselves. By chance…?”

“I, ah.” Harald hesitated. “I have a Shadow Mastiff as a Servitor? From the 27th Level?”

“A Shadow Mastiff!” Brauxis’ voice rang with delight.

“A wondrous companion. Stout-hearted, loyal, fierce, cuddly. If it is not too presumptuous, would you deign to summon this Servitor of yours, and ask that it accompany me on my rounds? It is entirely possible that I may have a hydra steak set aside as judicious bribery for just such a moment as this.”

“Shadowpaw isn’t… cuddly?” Harald felt out of his depth and looked to his friends again for help.

“Aw, listen to the guy,” said Vic. “Who can blame him for wanting to play with a doggie? Go ahead, Harald. Summon Shadowpaw. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Sam shrugged, while Nessa and Kársek both appeared bemused, so Harald did as he was bid.