BwA: Chapter 2 - Breckenridge

 A great battle was fought in Breckenridge Valley many generations ago. It is said that it was the decisive battle that won the province of Kostya its freedom from Adroitaca's tyranny. The valley is farmland now, but the farmers claim that bones, armor and weapons are still tilled up. – From the journal of Severah ajal Binoch

The town of Breckenridge was not much to look at in Xandria's eyes. Her unnamed oasis village had better building construction, better streets, and a better guard when they hadn't all been poisoned. There was movement outside the gates, and an occasional THOK sound of a crossbow. As Zazael and Xandria neared, both could see that clawing at the gates were a group of undead. A couple of zombies and a skeleton. The zombies were tearing their fingers, leaving smears of green ichor on the gates. The skeleton, wearing only a helmet normally kept in private antiquities collections, had a heavy sword in its hands. Not sure how the skeleton functioned or even could lift or behave like the sword was heavy. It would swing the sword over its head, the blade twanging as it met the wood of the gate. Splinters would fly off with each hit, the sword leaving deep gashes in the wood. Had the skeleton the brains to just attack a single point on the gate, it would have eventually carved through it.

"You best turn back, travelers, we cannot open the gates with the undead," shouted a guard from the top of the gate. He held the crossbow, aimed down, and shot a zombie. He hit it, but it continued clawing at the gate with its oozing stumps without notice. "Hurry away before they notice you!"

"We've come to help," Zazael shouted up at the guard. Xandria noticed his voice hadn't echoed.

"We appreciate any help, but we still can't open the gate," the guard repeated.

"Let us dispatch these undead," Zazael whispered to her. Xandria nodded and slipped from the back of the horse. She pulled her sword and it seemed as soon as her bare feet touched the earth, the zombies and skeleton halted their attack of the gate. They slowly turned as one towards them. Zazael circled the horse, looking for a weapon. A tattered flag that had once been white with a blazing sun on it hung on a thin pole.

"That one has been shot so many times with the crossbow it looks like a pincushion. How are we supposed to kill what is already dead?" Xandria whispered. She had crouched low as Zazael snapped the pole from the ground that held the flag. Even though the pole was small, it was metal, and Xandria wondered what strength the angel held within him to have snapped it like a twig.

"You take the fleshy ones, just behead them, I'll handle the skeleton," Zazael replied matter of factly as if he faced the undead often. Xandria nodded, not sure Zazael even saw her in the darkness. The mob of undead slowly began to shuffle towards them, the skeleton dragging its sword in the dirt.

Zazael charged the group. He lowered the pole like a jousting lance and it smacked into the skeleton's skull. With the skull hanging from the end of the pole, Zazael turned the horse and it kicked at the zombies. The hooves caught one in the chest, ripping it half. The flesh tore, spilling decaying bloated guts and maggots down the front of the tattered pants the zombie had been wearing. The upper half began to pull itself around, the spine dragging in the dirt as the lower half simply fell over. The horse's hind hoof, as dark as the darkness under Zazael's hood, stepped backwards, crushing the skull of the upper half of the zombie that had been crawling around. The skull burst, bits of what had to have been brain squished out under the horse's hoof. Zazael slid from the horse's back, it trotted away him as he raised the pole to block the oncoming sword swing. Unlike the fleshy zombie, even with the skull removed, the body was still working.

Xandria rushed from her crouch, brought up Zazael's sword and was amazed at how well it performed. The sword, looking cheap and beaten, sliced through the zombie as if it held no resistance. She had sliced it crotch to chin, removed the sword, swung over her head and removed the head of the zombie from its shoulders. Once again, the sword gave no resistance to the zombie even having bones. It fell over in a heavy thump, or it fell over the best it could. With all the crossbow bolts sticking from it, the zombie was propped like a pinned insect.

"Xandria, crush the skull," Zazael shouted at her. It appeared the more the skeleton fought, the better it was getting and stronger. It had yet to lay a blow upon Zazael but other than the angel being able to knock a few ribs away from the body, he had been unable to land any additional blows. He turned and flung the skull towards her with the pole, and once again blocked, but the blow had come hard. Xandria saw Zazael's arms shudder as if the skeleton had a massive strength that he could barely block. The pole bent, the sword tip sliced into Zazael's hooded darkness and stopped on his shoulder. Zazael grunted. Xandria spied the drop of silvery angel blood, sliding down the skeleton's blade. Using the hilt of Zazael's sword, she bashed the skull to pieces. The skeleton suddenly dismembered in front of Zazael and lay still. Zazael tossed the bent pole away from him and picked up the sword that had cut him. He quickly wiped the blade on his brown cloak. Picking up a handful of mud, Xandria clapped it onto Zazael's shoulder. He jerked away from her.

"Your armor was showing," she said and finished covering the hole in the cloak with mud where a small glow had appeared in the cut cloth.

"Thank you," Zazael whispered hesitantly to her, placing his hand over hers. It was her turn to recoil.

"I'm only helping you because I want revenge, and I don't care if my betrayer is ninety, he will die by my hand and it will be a slow death," Xandria hissed between clenched teeth.

"By the Light!" Shouted the guard. "Open the gates!" Several minutes passed and what seemed like an entire barricade had to be removed from the gates before they opened. Zazael took the reins of his horse and led it through into the town. Xandria following behind. As soon as they were within the gates, they were quickly closed and the barrels and boards were reinstalled.

"You're the first ones to kill any of them," said what looked like a guard officer, he wore slightly better armor than the men on the gates. "We're just peasants here, none knows how to do it." He was tall, not as tall as Zazael and not nearly as broad in the shoulder. Zazael was a big specimen of a man or angel, but his armor made him look larger. The guard's face was dirty and lined, a several day stubble covered his lower face. Xandria wondered how she appeared to the guard. She was dressed in tatters of clothing, with a large winged sword on her hip.

"We offer our services," Zazael stated.

"You're one of them paladins of the Holy Order, aren't you?" The officer of the guard asked.

"Is your inn open?" Zazael asked, ignoring the man's question.

"It's over there, I don't know if they have room, it's filled with the injured," the officer said, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb. Xandria realized that the guard hadn't really even looked at her or acknowledged her for that matter. Zazael nodded and began to lead his horse down the dirt street between buildings.

The inn was small, only a couple of tables and a couple of rooms. Word had traveled fast that two strangers, one a paladin, had killed some of the undead. Zazael and Xandria were met with curious gazes or rather just Zazael. Xandria was not even noticed. Only one noticed her, a young woman seated at one of the tables. She was surrounded by scrolls and a large book. She had ink and quills. The woman stopped writing and stared right at Xandria for a moment. Xandria returned her gaze as Zazael was asking the innkeeper if there was a place for them to sleep the rest of the night. The young woman quickly began to dig in a large pouch that apparently contained more scrolls and bits of paper. The woman looked over a piece of paper, then again at Xandria who had not removed her gaze. Xandria saw recognition in the young woman's face.

"They can have my room," said the young woman quickly after the innkeeper had told Zazael that he had no space for them. She was a petite thing, with brown hair pulled away from her face, and a tunic of green that matched her eyes and brown pants. She carried no weapons.

"Thank you," Zazael said to the young woman who only looked at Xandria. She produced a key from a pocket and held it out to the warrior woman. "It's the first door at the top of the stairs." Xandria accepted the key carefully. The woman was striking her as something of a lunatic or someone who did not know how to behave in the presence of greatness.

"Is there anywhere I can get some clothes?" Xandria asked the woman.

"Oh yes! I'll get you some!" She dashed excitedly from the tavern.

The room that Xandria had no intention of sharing with Zazael, and wondered why he asked for one. The thing Xandria knew about angels was they had inexhaustible energy. Zazael could battle for days without tiring. They could also go for hours in the bed without tiring either. Xandria nearly slapped herself at that thought, but being in Zazael's harmonious presence made her continually think of all the good times she'd had with Ralael, and sex with him had been the best she'd ever had.

"She knows you, but she's not old enough to have known you herself," Zazael commented, the echo returning to his voice, as he seemed to inspect the room. Every surface was covered with books, papers, quills, inks and blotting dust.

"She's a scribe of some sort, I'm pretty sure there were stories written about me," Xandria replied, unbuckling the sword from her hip. She hung it on the bed post within easy reach and made a space among the papers to lay down.

"Xandria the Merciless? I doubt few know the truth."

"There is no truth, Zazael. I could not attack Heaven directly so I had to settle for as close as I could get."

"Yes, slaughtering the Holy Order," Zazael stated. Xandria did not reply. She was certain that Zazael knew all about her. "How many know that Xandria the Merciless had an oasis full of people and their families that she had rescued in one way or another? That she knew each person by name." Xandria was surprised and tried not to let it show.

"The Holy Order knew. They poisoned the well, and many innocents died." Xandria's voice was dead flat. "I didn't think they would have stooped so low for my capture."

"The Holy Order didn't poison the well. They were only given the location of the oasis and you on a silver platter."

"How do you know? You were in Oblivion." Zazael turned at Xandria's words.

"Oblivion for an angel is the utmost torture, we are cut off from the Light. We feel its absence like a gaping hole in our very being. There is no day, no night, no matter the length we are there it feels like eternity of agony. It is like being in a pit of despair. I'm not sure how much of it I spent weeping or wishing for death."

"Then you know what a mother feels when she has lost her child," Xandria replied. Zazael said nothing and looked back out the window.

The door burst open and Xandria was off the bed, Zazael's sword in hand, before she realized that the intruder was the young woman. She held an armload of clothing. Her eyes widened at the sight of the sword in Xandria's hands.

"My-my apologies!" She stuttered and bowed.

"Don't bow to me," Xandria ordered sheathing the sword and taking the clothes from the woman. "Who are you?" Xandria began to search through the worn, and well used tunics and pants. The woman had only brought one pair of boots, but they fit even though they went all the way up to her thigh and had a higher heel than she preferred but it was better than barefoot.

"My name is Severah ajal Binoch," the young woman said quickly toying with a small vial about her neck. A faint silvery liquid sloshed in it. Xandria knew who the woman was. She was one of the gypsy clans that roamed Noristrad, but the ajal clan was nearly extinct. They were all gifted in the arts and often sought lives among the towns rather than the nomadic life of their brethren. "You knew my grandmother, Harsa ajal Iard." Xandria nodded, a woman about Severah's age came to mind along with an obvious familial resemblance.

"How does your grandmother fare? She had just given birth last I heard from her."

"Yes, Nalton, my uncle. I am sorry. She passed only a few years ago," Severah explained. Xandria recalled that Harsa had not been at the oasis when it was poisoned. She had married into the Damali Clan of the gypsies and had been traveling with them.

"It is good to know that someone was spared the genocide at my oasis," Xandria stated. Zazael had not moved from his post by the window. As Xandria dressed, he had chastely not turned in her direction. Zazael suddenly grunted and seemed to weaken. He grabbed the window frame to hold himself up. There was a patter of silvery liquid on the dirty floor around his boots. He reached under his cloak and removed his hand, the same blood was on the fingers of his gauntleted hand. "Get out!" Xandria snapped at Severah who was now staring transfixed at Zazael. Severah dashed from the room as quickly as she had entered.

"Where are you wounded?" Xandria asked, trying to pull the heavy cloak away from the angel. He moved away from her, shrugging her off, "Let me see!" She shouted at him. Leaning against the wall, he allowed her to open the rough cloak that covered his armor. Under the right arm was a gash ripped into his glowing chest plate. From bandages under the armor, it was obvious that Zazael knew he had been wounded and had tried to bind it himself.

"Where did you get this? Why aren't you healing?" Xandria demanded half dragging, half carrying Zazael to the bed. She removed the cloak from him. Zazael's wings had been laying around his shoulders and lifted once they were free of the cloth. They opened wide, fluttering in the breeze only they seemed to feel. They gave off a glow like his armor. Xandria ignored them, she'd seen angel wings before and was unimpressed.

"Upon my release from Oblivion I was attacked by a demon. I killed him, but he managed to... injure me," Zazael said in a tired voice. "I'm weak. I have not been able to rest." She looked at him incredulously for a moment. Angels did not need rest.

Xandria quickly unbuckled the bright chest plate with its gash. As soon as it fell away from Zazael's chest and clanked to the floor it tarnished like the sword. Under Zazael's plate armor, he wore a shirt of chain mail. The links had been sheared like cloth. Xandria moved to pull the chain shirt over his head, to better see the wound.

"No," he stopped her firmly. His hand gripping hers.

"Ralael was my husband," Xandria said, "I know you have no features if you're trying to protect me from that."

"No," he spoke between heavy breaths. "I look exactly like him," Zazael stated but pulled off his gauntlets. Xandria had seen angel flesh before, and had felt it inside her. Angels weren't human, even though humans were modeled after them. Zazael's hands were black, not black as in dark skinned, but black like ink. It was as if Zazael was a shadow made tangible. She pulled the chain shirt from him, his wings sliding easily free as if they weren't there. Zazael was still dressed in his armor from the waist down but he was naked from the waist up, save the silvery bloody bandage around his middle. His skin was smooth like glass, no hair, no imperfections, he did not have a navel or nipples.

"Ralael," Xandria breathed and Zazael's hand caught her by the wrist as she reached out to touch his chest.

"Xandria, I'm not him," Zazael's mouth formed the words but there was no visible tongue or teeth behind the lips. He had a nose and cheek bones, and eyelids that blinked over black eyes. He had ears and no hair upon his skull. Without his armor, Zazael looked like a black onyx statue someone had animated and attached large white glowing wings that moved and swayed. She blinked and shook her head, pulling the bandages away. A gash was in the black skin, silvery blood oozed from the wound that looked more like a glowing chunk had been taken from the statue's side. His face and shoulder contained a small slice that Xandria assumed was from the skeleton he'd fought at the gates. They bled little, and did not glow like the gash in his side.

"I'll have to cauterize it," Xandria stated and walked to the small fireplace in the room. The fire that had been built within was nearly out, Xandria tossed on a log. Zazael was too far from the fire or too weak for his aura to grow and Xandria had no magic of her own. She placed the poker into the coals and waited.

Zazael's roar of pain as Xandria pressed the reddened poker to his wound could've broken the windows of the inn and the buildings around it if Xandria had not clamped her hand over his mouth, and pinned his chest down with her knee. When she had sealed wounds like this before, it took more than one to hold down the injured. Zazael was weakening with each drop he lost and had fallen unconscious before Xandria had finished.