An Angel’s Road to Hell

Cassandra Pendragon

Old timbers creaked as the winds picked up, the sails sang in the encroaching darkness and the acrid smoke, blowing from the furnace in a thick, greyish stream, tickled my nostrils. The sun was sinking ever closer to the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with light and fire, painting the moored ships in crimson and gold. Only a few people were still milling about, repairing the maimed, burned out husks of wooden pathways and improvised landings to the point were a few of them were again usable. It wouldn’t have sufficed in any way for the fleet Free Land had once called its own but it was more than enough for the few slim trading vessels and haphazardly restored ships they still had left. Muted curses in different languages wafted through the air, accompanying the last, rushed tasks the respective crews tried to complete before the sun would finally set.

On our way to the harbour we had been given a wide berth, the two slightly crazy kitsune, who were friends with dragons and could turn into power incarnate on a whim, already commanded a certain amount of respect, dare I say fear, and consequentially were firmly established in the do not mess with category. Our trip had been closer to a relaxing stroll and sometimes we had even been greeted in passing, a quick smile or a raised hand a show of acceptance that had felt much more gratifying than it should have. Some had even looked like they were genuinely glad to have us around. At least as far as the regular townsfolk were concerned we weren’t treated like an obstacle or a danger anymore. And the others… well, they would learn. Tonight.

We’d even look the part, which brings us back to why I had decided to spend some of my precious time meandering through the streets with Ahri and Xorlosh, while Serena was trying to figure out if the “Silver Swan” still welcomed guests. She’d pick us up in half an hour. Meanwhile her sister would be waiting for Reia to return and lead the little troublemaker there as well, provided said establishment still had a cook and the silverware hadn’t been stolen. With the turmoil we had caused and the spontaneous appropriations of the dead Captain’s belongings, that had happened all over town, it was a decently justified concern. But for now, I just couldn’t get myself to care as a sense of wonder was slowly spreading through me.

I whistled softly through my teeth while I ran my fingers along the clean, cold, intricate scales of a shimmering breastplate, sprawled out on a bed of satin in the middle of the deck, surrounded by a group of grinning dwarfs and two speechless vixens. Before I could get lost in my reverie, engrossed in the subtle details the craftsmen had added to every single piece, a calloused, heavy hand landed on my shoulder and I heard Xorlosh’s deep, gravelly voice in my ear: “didn’t promise too much, now, did I?”

“No, no you definitely didn’t,” I mumbled subduedly. I had been raised in a palace, our guards had had the best equipment centuries of expertise crafting mithril had provided and my parents had been able to afford almost any kind of artisan but never before had I seen anything comparable. Even the armour the dwarfs wore themselves didn’t come close, at least not to me. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how much the… masterworks they had created must have been worth.

The two sets were uncannily similar, flowing lines of gleaming, silvery metal, glowing softly in the reddish light. The sheen scintillated almost imperceptibly between gold, green and an earthy brown, similar to verdant soil, a visible reminder of the people who had been involved in the forging: Viyara’s flames, Erya’s magic and dwarven ingenuity. I was well aware that it was just a piece of equipment, an amazingly crafted and breathtakingly beautiful one at that, but still a tool. Nevertheless, while I stared at the priceless armour, I couldn’t deny that I saw much more in its metallic lustre. It had been forged during the most tumultuous time of our lives and yet, it was perfect, a seamless amalgamation of what our friends could accomplish, of what we all could accomplish, if we worked together. And it had been made for us. No tradeoffs, no compromises, a gift much more precious than I had even dared hope. The smiths really had outdone themselves.

“Yah know, I’m pretty sure it’s going to look even better once you wear it,” Xorlosh continued jovially but I still heard the pride and joy in his every word. “Yah don’t even have t’ deal with the tedious process of putting it on. See those runes? They aren’t ours… the fey made ‘em. If yah add a drop of your blood to them, they’ll activate and bind the magic to you. Yah should be able to summon and stow the whole contraption with a thought. If she didn’t fuck up, that is. Couldn’t very well test it, now, could we? Whaddaya say? Wanna give it a spin?” I shared a quick glance with Ahri and replied for the both of us:

“We’d love to.” My wings manifested with a quiet whisper before I added: “thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you all.” The following pinprick on my thumb I hardly felt while Xorlosh said:

“Don’t thank us just yet, lass. Let’s see if it works. If it does, I’m sure me and the lads, who actually swung the hammer, wouldn’t say no to a hug.” If it came as advertised I wouldn’t even begrudge them a kiss. Not that I was going to say as much out loud. I’d rather avoid having to christen our new armour in the blood of its makers and judging from the grim thoughts Ahri had tried to suppress at Xorlosh’s comment, it’d have been a very real possibility, if I had made that particular mistake. I felt a wry smile tug on the corners of my mouth, flattered as I was, but that kind of jealousy just couldn’t be healthy. Unfortunately I wasn’t much better, when it came to her, and consequentially decided to ignore the rather ominous images she couldn’t hide entirely.

“The hug you can have anytime you want,” I still replied, winking at my fiancée to calm her down while I smeared a smidgen of my blood on the runes he had indicated. The silvery liquid was almost invisible among the gleaming mithril but after a second it began frothing and bubbling and vanished into the armour without even leaving a trace behind. I braced myself, past experiences had made me wary when it came to comparable experiments, but the runes were drawn perfectly and the dwarfs apparently had known what they had been doing.

No explosion tore the deck asunder, not even a single speck of light escaped the intricate formations, and after a few heartbeats I felt the tension leave my muscles, just as the interwoven sigils flared brightly and the magic activated. The sensations that followed were akin to how I had felt when the bracelet, Ahri had given me, had activated. A fuzzy, underwater kind of connection I could only grasp when I focused on it. In contrast to the precious keepsake there were no blurry images waiting for me, though. Instead my mind expanded, my power surged for the fraction of a second and one of the two armours was engulfed in a flash of light before it vanished. The very next moment a cool, comforting weight settled around my shoulders and my vision shrank, limited by the visor of a comfortable helmet.

The first, hesitant step was the most difficult, my mind still hung up on how jarring it had been to move when I had tried it on for the first time, but not a single joint chafed against my skin. Truth be told, it was even easier to wear than the more flamboyant, extravagant dresses I had been stuffed into in the past. It wasn’t a lightweight, by any stretch of the imagination, but each part was tightly bound to one of my limbs with hardly any play. Consequentially it felt more like a second skin than actual armour and when I was convinced I wouldn’t suffer any unwelcome stings or bruises, I began moving, slowly at first but with increasing enthusiasm.

I laughed happily while I glided across the deck, following the steps of a simple dance I had learned as a child. The metal soles of my boots beat a quick staccato on the seasoned oak, my wings whirled around me like the train of a dress and when I had gathered enough momentum I jumped as high as I could, soaring into the sky effortlessly. The torrents of power on my back slithered freely through a large V, cut through the armour, and carried me into the vast expanse of blue and black, another speck of light amongst the rising stars. The wind whistled against the scales around my torso, caught in my black tresses, escaping from beneath my helmet, and extinguished the smouldering anxiety I felt whenever I thought about the future and what I still had to do.

Joy, pure undiluted joy was thrumming in my veins, the exhilarating moment, caught somewhere between heaven and earth, a precious second without worries, without fear and when I saw a star of crimson rush towards me I couldn’t help myself, I simply let go. For a few moments or a short eternity we simply… lived, relishing in the feeling of freedom, basking in the glow of a million worlds, slowly appearing on the horizon. Our wings became entangled and still we rose, ever higher into the sky, until the shadows of Free Land below us were nothing more than a memory of times long gone, hazy and distorted. What mattered, what was real, was the pleasure of flying, of moving without restraints, the person I loved the most at my side.

From one second to the next the simple trial run had become so much more, another chance for us to escape, if only for a few heartbeats, and we made use of it to the fullest. Amongst the stars we danced, we soared and fell, we frolicked and chased each other through the clouds, the thick metal around our bodies somehow sensitive to our touch. Every time her wings brushed against me, every time her hands caressed my body, I felt them just as if had been wearing nothing, my skin, protected by enchanted metal, as eager for her warmth as it had always been.

Lights flickered to life in the streets below us, the distant echoes of songs and conversations, curses and laughter became an entrancing melody we moved to, always changing, always fascinating, giving substance to our dance. My laughter had never ceased and by now I heard Ahri’s velvety voice as well, the unending circles we followed becoming a path of mirth and joy we willingly walked. Somewhere between dream and reality we hovered, the gift, our friends had made for us, a token, a sign, of what we could become, what we could be without the trials we had been subjected to. Protected yet free we flew until the moon rose in the East and it was time to return. It hadn’t been much, it hadn’t been for long, but the few moments we had been granted had been enough to restore my spirit and judging form the bright smile Ahri wore when she removed her helmet, it was exactly the same for her.

I was still grinning like a lunatic when we landed and so were the dwarfs, pride emanating from every wrinkle, every pair of eyes. “Looks like it works, doesn’t it,” Xorlosh greeted us. “Yah sure as hells can move, I’ll give yah that. It’s been a while… after that, I don’t think it’s you, lass, who has to thank us. Ah don’t think I’ve ever seen me work put to finer use. ‘T was an honour working on something that’ll keep those pretty necks safe. How do they fit? Anything left to change?”

I shook my head, Ahri mimicking the gesture. “Perfect, in every way, even though I’m not wearing anything resembling a gambeson underneath.” I had just remembered his last lecture on the disadvantages of plate armour and as far as I had come to understand it, some kind of cushioning was needed, otherwise it was just bound to hurt with every step, never mind the… rather rattling outcome, should someone actually take a swing at me.

“Yah don’t need to. You can store all of it in your stamp, but you can also remove parts manually. Why don’t you take off the shoulder guards? You’ll see.” Intrigued I fumbled with the hidden straps I felt underneath the metal but it wasn’t until Etosh lent me a stubby hand that I manage to detach the securing bolts and leather cords.

The armour consisted of seven parts. Filigree, yet sturdy scales, each and every single one engraved with blackened runes, made up the main protection around my torso, a bulwark of mithril that could still move and bend freely, accommodating my every movement. Around my waist the scales transformed into bands, or rather thick threads, of woven metal that dropped down my thighs and almost reached my knees. Shoulder guards, bracers and greaves competed the ensemble. In a way it looked like a mixture of Ancient Greek and scale armour, maximising mobility while only a scant few places remained unprotected. Explicitly, my heels, the backside of my knees and my upper thighs were hidden behind a delicate mesh of woven mithril threads, but a heavy blow there would still cause major damage. Add the two slit like openings along the back to the equation and it became quite obvious that the armour was designed to face opponents head on, not keep me safe while running away.

When I had fumbled out of a shoulder guard, a layer of silk and leather appeared underneath the shimmering metal, about a centimetre thick, which provided just enough padding to weather a blow. Should I ever take an axe hit to the chest, though, or, god forbid, the bolt of a ballista or a gunshot, it would still drive the breath from my lungs and probably break a rib or two to boot. I couldn’t see any weapon actually penetrating the more massive parts of the armour but bludgeoning attacks were still a real problem, even though I wasn’t overly worried. As long as I wouldn’t get knocked unconscious I could easily deal with a bruise or fractured bones. Xorlosh and his boys had apparently thought along the same line, since I now saw that the shoulder guards, and the helmet as well, presumably, consisted of the most sturdy, unyielding sheets of metal, nearly a centimetre thick in some places. Short of a blow from a dragon or maybe a really angry dwarf, I just didn’t see anyone breaking my neck, never mind actually taking my head off or piercing my skull. As far as I was concerned, that was the most important part, everything else I could deal with. Reluctantly and with a bunch of accompanying curses for sure, but I’d manage.

When I reverently ran my fingers over the black cloth I realised that even the inner lining was embroidered with glyphs and sigils, threads of mithril glowing softly whenever they caught the light of the setting sun. “Keeps it clean,” Xorlosh explained as he leaned in closer, his lads a preening crowd of grinning faces behind him. “Blood, sweat, nothing will stick. Most runes we use are centred around nullifying magical attacks but we could skip most of that part with you and your girl. We only added a few to ensure no mage could turn your armour into a golem or some such nasty nonsense while you’re wearing it. Your blood didn’t only bind the runes to you, it also imbued the entire amour with a fraction of your power. For as long as you’re wearing it, it should be about as hard to spell as you are. Same goes for your lovely lass. Ain’t much yah gotta worry about in that regard. Now, your friends also insisted on including some other… let’s say less than necessary, enchantments. It won’t get overly cold or hot, we’ve reduced the weight as much as possible, even encased a small fragment of a flying stone in every part. Now… it’s mostly there so you don’t become encumbered while flying but you can also freeze it, which would make the weight skyrocket. As it is, the whole thing clocks in at around 8 kgs and it should have twenty. If you cool the stones down it can get up to over 200 kgs. Not sure how you can use it, but I guess if you have to stop an enraged bull or a carriage dead in its tracks it’ll prove handy.”

He didn’t get further. I stored my armour in my stamp and threw my arms around his broad neck. Without a second thought I kissed his cheeks and stammered over his rising blush: “thank you. Thank you so much. You’ve no idea what this means to me, to us. Just… thank you.”