Kaybree Versus the Angels

KAYBREE VERSUS THE ANGELS

  Harrison Paul

  Copyright 2013 Harrison Paul

  Revised edition published 2014

  This is a work of fiction. All persons or events portrayed herein are fictional or are used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: My First Real Vision

  Chapter Two: A Sealed Tower

  Chapter Three: A Voice from the Dust

  Chapter Four: Searching for a Heretic

  Chapter Five: Angel Attack

  Chapter Six: Waking Up

  Chapter Seven: Awkward Silence

  Chapter Eight: Runes and Angels

  Chapter Nine: Ordinary Swords

  Chapter Ten: Stones, Bones, and Sulfur

  Chapter Eleven: Sifting Through the Past

  Chapter Twelve: Weaving the Mystery

  Chapter Thirteen: Water and Wind

  Chapter Fourteen: Without the Wings

  Chapter Fifteen: Politicians and Crusaders

  Chapter Sixteen: A Friend That Can Fly

  Chapter Seventeen: Defending Humanity

  Chapter Eighteen: Whispers from the Forest

  Chapter Nineteen: Songs and Judgments

  Chapter Twenty: Relics

  Chapter Twenty-One: A Plan

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Andreya’s Secret

  Chapter Twenty-Three: The Girl of Fire and Lightning

  About the Author

  Connect with Harrison Paul

  Links to Other Books by Harrison Paul

  Preview: My Very Own Witch Hunter

  Acknowledgments

  For John, who taught me who I am.

  CHAPTER ONE

  My First Real Vision

  If the bards could be believed, Kant Vakt was a magical place, the site of my mother's battle with the Angels, where gallant warriors wielded ancient relics in mankind's defense. But bards' tales had a reputation of being slippery, told with a wink and a nod, stretching the truth to impress girls with a clever song.

  When I first arrived at the city, I had the haunting feeling that this time, the bards were right.

  I stood on the deck of the ship as the Sea Pilgrim approached the docks of Kant Vakt. Icy wind whipped at my cloak and dress, making my scarf to flap in the breeze. I leaned on the railing, gazing out at my mother's city. The Sydstrom Channel ran alongside the main road, and dozens of arched stone bridges connected the two sides. Oarsmen rowed their longships through the channel, carrying messages and cargo from one end of the city to the other.

  The smells of sea brine and pine mingled in the air with the scents of chimney smoke and roasting meat. A carriage drawn by two rangir with long antlers rolled along the cobblestone street, but the crowd of people was sparse. Having come from the capital, I'd expected more of a welcoming party. I looked over at the far end of the city, toward the dense foliage of the forest. The thick cluster of Nordgren spruces was laden with snow, and blocked my view of the world beyond, where unseen horrors could be lurking.

  The border wall came into view, or what was left of it. High stone watchtowers with crownlike tops dotted the borders by the forest. The ruins of the city walls remained where they stood, warped stone and eroded fragments that covered the expanse between towers. This was the Kant Vakt of the stories. Fifteen years ago, the walls had been burned away in a brilliant flash of white fire, pieces of stone exploding and raining down on the city. I shuddered thinking about it. The walls had never been rebuilt—probably because the Angels could just destroy them again if they wanted to.

  I remembered my mother's letter. I clutched the parchment close, to keep the ink from smearing. Not that it would have mattered. I'd read the letter enough times to recite it in my sleep. My mother had never sent a letter directly to me, penned in her scribe's own hand, so I had to make sure I wasn't reading it wrong. It was a summons to Kant Vakt.

  "In Nordgard, Kaybree, everyone works," my mother had told me each time she'd come to visit. "Peasants labor in the fields. Artisans craft in their workshops. Even kings and princes are expected to undergo rigorous schooling in their youth, followed by an approved apprenticeship. Idleness is not permitted, and all must learn their place. Mine is to defend our borders. Yours is to study at this sagekeep."

  Yet after sending me from the longship ports of Arleon to the frigid tundra of Nordgren to the eastern border of Holmgarde, she had never allowed me to even set foot in her city. Sometimes her excuse was my health, since I had a rare disease and needed special blood treatments weekly. Other times she would say that it was too much of a risk to travel to Kant Vakt, because I might get caught in the next attack. So I hadn't asked for a few years, and had grown content to let her visit when she found the chance.

  What had changed now?

  I disembarked from the ship, stepping out onto wooden docks that seemed to shift as I walked. Maybe my sense of balance was still thrown off by the sea voyage. I looked around at the people, but didn't recognize anyone. My mother's letter had told me she'd send her assistant to find me, but no one came forward to introduce themselves.

  Of course, I thought. The ship had arrived late, and she probably hadn't bothered to track its progress. I could have a message sent, but knowing her, something of vital importance to defending Nordgard would take precedence. I would have to go straight to her tower at the sagekeep, and let the porters bring my chests of clothes and other belongings up later.

  I waved to an oarsman on the channel and stepped into his longship. Its wooden frame was peaked on the ends, and seemed to glide on the water like a swan. It only had six benches for rowing, and was likely bought from a fisherman to use on the channel.

  "Where to?" he asked. He wore a heavy gray cloak and had arms of corded muscle. Another bench was occupied by a younger man, his hands tight on the oars.

  "The sagekeep," I said, handing him a few coins. Without a word, he took the coins and began rowing. We passed along the main road, where rangir trotted along with nobles' carriages in tow. Other longships wove around us in the water, more agile and practical in the city than the newer ships with their towering masts and large cargo holds. The ride took less time than I'd expected, and before I knew it, I was stepping onto the steep slope and toward the sagekeep.

  I reached the outer courtyard and gazed up at the soaring figure. The sagekeep of Kant Vakt was legendary. Since it had nearly been demolished by the attack of fifteen years ago, the sages had commanded that we build it up again, a fortress that the creatures of the forest would never overthrow. My mother said it was the Angels who destroyed the city, but the sages still said the dark denizens of the forest were responsible. Now that I was here, I could find out for myself.

  Two towers flanked the vaulted keep. Arched black spires reached into the skies, their tops lost in the gray clouds, and the entire southern wall was covered in intricate designs. A great circular window was placed at the top of the keep, giving it the appearance of an eye watching over the city. A statue of Giles the Philosopher, the first of the sages, stood at the top, his granite face turned south toward the forest.

  I passed a pair of armored guards through the double doors of the sagekeep, entering the high-ceilinged entrance chamber. It opened into a hall that stretched as far as I could see, and voices and footsteps echoed off of its ceiling like the inside of an underground cavern. This was my mother's fortress, where she'd earned the warrior's surname of Staalvoss, or "steel fox."

  The other students passed me in the halls, displaying the rugged fashions of the border cities: breeches and collared shirts with sleeveless vests for the boys, and fitted overgowns with slender skirts for the girls. They were all children of nobility, so they kept to the most recent fashions. I preferred the
style of Kant Vakt to other places I'd been, with its simplicity and practicality. It struck a nice balance between elegance and freedom of movement, so I could look great while riding or exploring. I smiled at the other girls, glad that my sky blue gown with its draped sleeves fit right in.

  I could make it work this time. As long as they didn't find out who I was first.

  I took the hall that led to the east tower, searching the walls for some clue as to where I needed to go. Torches lit the halls, their light flickering on the black stone. I'd seen similar layouts in other sagekeeps where I'd lived. Usually each noble house had a relationship with the sages in a certain city, but since my mother tended to offend everyone she met within five minutes, nobody exactly competed for the honor of teaching me. They would put up with me for a few months and send me on to the next city.

  I came to an anteroom. A girl about my age stood there next to a sage with stark white hair and deep lines in his face. His robes, dyed wool of a deep blue, told me he must be a teacher; the teachers always wore the richest robes. I studied the girl's attire, noticing the familiar courtly style from the capital: a green v-necked gown with a black kirtle underneath, the gown's skirt flared and laced on the ends. Gold and mother-of-pearl lined her sleeves.

  "Take care with these," the ancient sage said, opening the case. "You'll have to hand them out during class today. I'll be there shortly."

  "My honor on it, Father Kraus," she said, pushing back a strand of yellow-blonde hair. How long had it taken her to get the crinkly waves just right? "See you in class." The sage left, and the girl pulled something out of the case, twirling it around. "I wonder what this does."

  The object she held was a round sphere with carvings on it. It looked like it was made of bone. "Is that a relic?" I asked. I remembered seeing Kraus's name on the class schedule my mother had sent. The relics were ancient objects of power, and she had forbidden me to touch them.

  The girl glanced over at me. "Of course it's a relic," she said. "We're using these in class today." She had a pretty face, pouty when frowning and bright when smiling, with full lips and high cheekbones. "Are you someone's servant?"

  "No, I'm new here," I said quickly. Why did people always mistake me for a servant? I dressed exactly like a noble. "I just came in today. Mind if I take a look at these?"

  She shut the case and gave me a patronizing smile. "Sorry, class only. Unless you have Father Kraus at nine too."

  "Actually, I do," I said. "But I'm supposed to report to my—to the Vormund Order first." I decided to withhold my mother's name for now. First impressions were important. "This is my first time here, so I'm still getting used to the sagekeep. Are they in the east wing or the west?"

  She looked like she'd swallowed a toad. "What brain disease would make you want to go there?"

  "My mother, well, works there."

  She peered at me and pursed her lips. "Oh, I see the resemblance. You must be the Witch's daughter." She smirked. "Big creepy eyes included."

  I turned a wince into a smile. "Yeah, same eyes," I said. People usually commented on our similar noses, but my eyes betrayed my heritage as well. Depending on the light of the room, they seemed to oscillate between an intense lapis blue and a mild gray, which unnerved some people. I extended my hand. "I'm Kaybree Andresdatter."

  She took my hand like it was a dead fish. "Danelle Ambros," she said. "You've probably heard of my parents. They're kind of a big deal back in the capital."

  A daughter of House Ambros? My mouth went dry. She wasn't lying; her family owned the most opulent keep I'd ever seen, with towering domes and mirrored chandeliers. No wonder her dress looked like it could ransom a king. "What's an Ambros doing here? I thought all of you stayed in the capital."

  "Well, each city deserves something nice to look at."

  That seemed an appropriate time to change the subject. "Which tower?"

  She waved a hand. "The east one. But don't blame me if you come back in pieces."

  "I'll be fine, thank you," I said, feeling a twinge of annoyance. My mother had not saved the human race from the Angels just to be treated like a monster. "If my mother was a Witch, Miss Ambros, I doubt this city would still be standing. I'd think one of noble birth would be less prone to peasants' superstition."

  Danelle's composure faltered for a moment, but she regained it with a flip of her hair. She gave my dress a sideways look. "From the way you dress, you must know a great deal about peasants," she said. "No, Miss Andresdatter, Witches do not destroy cities. They control them, and then send the people to their deaths. But I wouldn't expect the uninformed to know that. Perhaps taking classes here will be to your benefit." She stalked away, not looking back at me.

  I chided myself for arguing with her. The first student I meet in Kant Vakt, and I decide to get into a fight. And why had I stood up for my mother, when she wouldn't even bother to send someone to meet me at the docks? Perhaps it was because no matter how awful of a mother she was, she still was humanity's only hope. If her work took her away from me, then other people had better appreciate it.

  I headed for the black marble staircase at the end of the hall, wondering why my mother would live at the top of a tower. Like so many other things about her, this made no sense at all, unless there was secretly another entrance down below. The staircase ended abruptly at the top, with a door that opened to an outside bridge connecting tower to sagekeep. The bridge had a stone railing to either side, and the entire city was visible from over them. The tower itself was all black stone, glossy and intimidating, like a spike jutting into the sky.

  The bridge led inside to a wide chamber with a set of thick metal doors that had no outside handles to pull. "Hello?" I called out, knocking on the door. The metallic ringing echoed in the chamber. I wondered if Danelle had given me the wrong directions.

  I caught a glimpse of a placard by the door, emblazoned with the sigil of the Vormund Order, four crimson triangles that each held a bright golden eye. It read: FOR THE GLORY OF GOD, AND THE MIGHT OF THE ANGELS. The inscription sounded pious, but for a group that battled the beings it was praising, I had to wonder if it had a double meaning.

  I heard footsteps and turned around. A sage in a brown robe appeared, his arms loaded with bags and his pockets stuffed with books. He couldn't have been older than forty, but his back hunched under the weight of his items. He wiped his spectacles on his robe and glanced around. "I'm sorry, Miss," he said. "Would you happen to know where I am?"

  I pointed at the placard. "Are you looking for the Vormund Order?"

  The sage pulled out a piece of notepaper. "Vormund? Heavens Above, no, I'm looking for the classrooms. I'm new here, and I'm not accustomed to such an extensive floor plan in a sagekeep. Could you perhaps point me in the right direction?"

  "Just a moment." I tore a spare piece of parchment from my class notes and hastily scribed a message to my mother, telling her I had arrived and that I would report to her after classes. I had to meet as many of my classmates as possible before Danelle told them who I was.

  We crossed the bridge together, but I glanced back as I saw something flash by. Had it been a raven, or a cloak? I looked around, but no one was there.

  I led the sage inside and we took the stairs back down. "This way," I said. "I'm new here too, but I saw the classrooms on the way in. They're on the ground floor."

  "Ah, excellent," he said, carrying his bags and clunking down the stairs behind me. "Is this your first day in Kant Vakt as well?"

  "Kind of," I said, following him down the stairs. I was born here, but I didn't remember that far back. "I wasn't expecting so many buildings, especially this close to the forest." We reached the bottom of the stairs and he came up alongside me. "By the way, I'm Kaybree." It was customary to use one's given name with the sages. They were supposed to be just as strict with us regardless of which house we belonged to.

  He stuffed some papers into a pocket and extended his hand. "Brother Jans Gudsson. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Kay
bree."

  I shook his hand, relieved he hadn't asked my surname. Because it literally meant "daughter of Andreya," there was no hiding once I said it. "So where did you move from, Brother?"

  "Far to the north. You've likely never heard of the place." I'd traveled across all seven realms of Nordgard, so I probably had heard of it, but I didn't correct him. He pulled out a book written completely in runes. "I study the sagas. My superiors decided that allowing me to research in isolation was too antisocial for their taste, so they sent me here. I'll be teaching your history classes, I believe."

  "Great," I said. We came to the classrooms, and I saw one with a wooden sign nailed to the open door: FATHER KRAUS, RELICS. "Well, here's my class. I'll see you soon, Brother Jans."

  He waved dismissively. "No need for such formality. Jans will do fine."

  I smiled as he bounded off. I hope he's still this friendly when he learns my last name.

  I entered the classroom slowly, scanning the room for anyone I recognized. The only person I knew stood at the back with the relic box, handing them out to other students. Danelle Ambros. Our instructions were written in chalk on the board: take a relic and wait to be given a task.

  I held my breath as I approached, wondering if her anger had subsided. I smiled at her. "Miss Ambros."

  She frowned back. "Oh, you."

  I cleared my throat. She couldn't be that bad; after all, she'd given me the right directions. "Look, I just wanted to say that—"

  Danelle cut me off with a wide smile. "Don't worry about it," she said, picking through the box of relics and setting one on the table in front of her, a small white disc. "I admit I was somewhat rude as well, so why don't we just forget it ever happened?"

  "Sure," I said, reaching for the disc. Several pairs of white goatskin gloves sat on the table. "Should I wear gloves? Are these dangerous?"

  Danelle rolled her eyes. "The sages make us keep gloves nearby," she said. Nobody else in the room wore gloves. "But you might want to wear them anyway. You never know what might happen."

  "Good idea." I slipped on a pair of the soft gloves and picked up the disc. Its weight belied its small size. I nearly breathed a sigh of relief that Danelle wasn't mad at me. The nobles in Kant Vakt might distrust my mother, but that didn't make them soulless monsters. Even I didn't completely trust her. "What are we supposed to do?"

  She pointed to other groups of students, who were dripping water onto their relic or tapping it with a knife. The relic moistened by water lit up and started floating in the air. The other one turned the knife white-hot, like it was in the midst of a blazing fire. Incredible, I thought. This is the lost power of the Angels. I took my relic over to an empty table and stared at it. I studied the swirls in the white relic, wondering at its age and history. Specks of soil still clung to a part of the disc. Had it been retrieved from the forest?

  I waited for a moment for instructions. What was I supposed to do with this ancient artifact? Father Kraus stood on the other side of the room, helping a pair of students with their relic, and the people around me were focused on their own projects. Some rubbed their fingers on the sides of the relics, which make them shake a bit. No wonder Danelle was asked to keep them safe. If left out in the open, they would be a major distraction to anyone trying to study.

  I poked my disc, but nothing happened. I tried dripping water on it and tried blowing on it, but still nothing changed. I took off my right glove; after all, Danelle had said they were optional. I tapped the side of the disc with my fingertip. A spark shot out from it, and I leapt back, my heart pounding in wonder. I touched it again. Another spark. It was a tiny blue bolt of lightning that rose when I touched the disc and dissipated as it hit the air. Kant Vakt was becoming more amazing by the minute. I touched it for an instant longer, causing a higher bolt to shoot upward. The air smelled burnt around me.

  "Hey, look at this," someone said. It was a boy in a gray vest and matching slacks, a wealthier style closer to Danelle's. I wondered for a moment if the stories I'd heard about Kant Vakt fashion were a few years out of date. He and two of his friends stopped to stare as I touched the disc with both hands. A tiny plume of flame shot up from the center, warming my face. This is perfect, I thought, planning my next trick with the disc. They'll become my friends before they even learn my name.

  I drummed my fingers along the surface of the disc, making it shoot little spurts of flame. I'd never seen anything act like this before. I flipped the disc over, making it spin in flames. How was it doing that? Was it just a trick, or had someone built it to do this? I stopped, thinking of my next move.

  My hand slipped. For a second, my entire palm fell onto the disc, but one second was enough. The relic became blazing hot and sparks flew across the room. I took my hand away, but it was no use; the disc kept shooting fire. I glanced over at Danelle for help, but she shrugged back with a nonchalant smile. I leapt away before the flames singed my hair. I clattered into the shelves behind me, knocking a couple of glass jars from their place. They shattered on the ground. Of course Danelle gave that disc to me—it was supposed to be dangerous!

  The students around me gasped as the disc threw out another wave of sparks and flame. The flames hit the curtains, and fire began to creep up the fabric. I ran over and tried to beat the flame with my shoes, but to no avail. Why was that awful relic still going? I'd only touched it for a second! The disc kept spinning. Even Danelle looked frightened now. Students screamed and ran out of the room, and I stumbled out behind them. I was shoved aside when a team of servants came in with buckets of water and dirt, dousing and killing the fire.

  The students looked at me as wisps of smoke filtered out of the room. Danelle turned toward me, a mix of shock and disgust in her eyes. "Like mother, like daughter," she said, smoothing her hair.

  "It wasn't my fault!" I said, glaring at her. "If you hadn't given me that relic—"

  "It would have been something else," Danelle said, cutting me off. She shook her head. "Wake up, Miss Andresdatter. You don't belong here."

  I blinked, feeling my face burn from their stares. Before I could ruin my reputation any more, I backed away and rushed out of the sagekeep.

  Wind bit at my face, but I ignored it. Why had I thought that I could make friends here? This city was no different from the others, and the students at the sagekeep would act the same. Their parents taught them that my mother was an upstart and an outsider, and that's all I'd ever be. I wandered the streets until I came to a lone dirt path, with untrimmed hedges lining it. The old path was overgrown with weeds; no one but the bordermen likely used it. I looked up and saw that it led to the forest, disappearing into the shadows of thick pines and firs. I passed a charred section of the old city wall, half buried in patches of grass and lichen, marking the border with the forest.

  A sense of peace came over me. I walked forward, caught in the quiet serenity that blanketed the place, stepping as if were from the profane to the sacred. The forest smelled of moist earth and recent rainfall, and I could hear scattered bird chirps and the rustling of leaves in the wind. An expanse of violet wolfsbane covered one side of the path, with orchids in full bloom on the other. My mother had told me the forest was dangerous. But how could a place so beautiful, so transcendent, be dangerous?

  A bright light appeared in front of me. The light blinded me for a moment, but once my eyes adjusted, I saw a figure standing there, arrayed in immortal glory. An Angel, a true Angel, with flowing platinum hair, sparkling skin, and eyes of molten gold. His presence radiated light and power, and his voice sang out like the sound of rushing waters.

  "Kaybree Andresdatter, I am an Angel of the Almighty."

  I stared at him, frozen in place. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know whether he was a real Angel, the ones who had protected mankind for centuries. I wanted to know why the Angels betrayed us fifteen years ago. All I could stammer was, "Where are your wings?"

  "Behold," he said, staring ahead as if he
hadn't heard me. "The Ancient Ones shall return, and the land shall tremble in agony. But there shall be silence in the Heavens, and the sleeper shall awaken. Inasmuch as my people endeavor in sin, I shall send my servants to call them to repentance. Thus saith the philosopher of the Almighty."

  I shielded my eyes from the shining figure before me. His words echoed the sages' Book of Visions in their formality and dignity, but they made no sense. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "Are the Angels going to return?"

  "And the fallen shall rise against them," he continued, eyes blazing. "For insofar as there is righteousness, wickedness shall seek to destroy it. Insofar as there is light, darkness shall conspire to quench it. Insofar as there is power, it shall be corrupted to the will of the flesh. Thus the Judge of the Almighty shall bring death, until wickedness shall no more be found on the Earth." The Angel met my eyes. "For if she arises, the world shall burn in her wake." The air around him dimmed, until his whole luminescent form vanished, leaving me alone in the forest again.

  I stared at the spot where he'd disappeared, blinking the bright spots from my eyes. I'd seen an Angel. And even through his archaic language and cryptic phrases, I knew something big was about to happen.