The Minstrel Angel

Harmon brought me a bone again, this time with more than a ghost of meat still attached. He stood before the cage and watched me devour it. “Tomorrow is the final push,” he said quietly. “We'll either be crushed by the Magician's forces, or we'll break through their ranks and stand a chance of rousting the evil from this valley.”

  Intent on my meal, I said nothing.

  “And I've decided...to release you.” He waited until I made eye contact before continuing. “On two conditions.”

  I cleaned grease and gristle from beneath my ragged nails. “What conditions?”

  “I want you to tell us a tale. A grand tale, like the one you told Jannek as he lay dying. Fill the men with courage, and hope.” He swallowed hard. “Let us face the darkness with peace in our hearts.”

  So the boy had died. Far from surprising, but I hadn't heard another peep. He must have just...slipped away. “And your second condition?”

  “Once I set you free, you will not raise a hand to harm us.”

  I watched his face for a tell, but he seemed genuine. No tricks here, just a barter. I sucked the last scraps of meat from between my sharp teeth, and nodded. “Very well, Harmon. I'll sing your song.”

  He let out a long breath I had not realized he'd been holding. “Thank you. I can't fool myself, I know what we're up against, and what our chances of victory are. But you can. I just hope to God I believe it.”

  The valley rattled with preparations all night as the tired men readied themselves for a dawn attack. Harmon came to my cage with a manacle in his hands.

  I glared at it.

  “Just until your bargain is upheld,” he promised. “Not a minute more.”

  I forced myself to extend my arm and hold it still as he clapped the iron on me, gritting my teeth against the freezing sting. The pain kept me distracted while he opened the cage and led me outside to meet a landslide of weary, torchlit faces.

  I surveyed them all for a quiet moment as they stared, and I could feel their despair creeping over me like a weighted fog. I launched into my song before it could drag me under.

  I told the haunted faces what they wanted to hear, that this war was just and that God was on their side. I told them things they’d never hear again, that there was hope, that they were loved, that truly they were the favored ones. I sang of the glory of battle, of the righteous clash of swords and spears. I regaled them with tales of battles I’d seen, where a lone man held off whole battalions and lived to die old and happy.

  The men cheered me on as I sang. They laughed again, and cried with joy, and the light of hope bloomed in their eyes. The travesty ended with a toast, of all things, to my health, and to tomorrow's victory.

  Once I finished, the men scattered to steal what little sleep they could before the final battle.

  Harmon turned, key in hand, and held my gaze. “Remember your promise,” he said.

  “I will.” I glanced across the valley at the ragged men, in high spirits, for now. “I hope my lies linger until the battle.”

  “As do I.” He unlocked the manacle.

  My arm drooped, feeling pins-and-needles asleep. I stretched my wings and tried to get back into flying shape.

  “You wouldn't consider...fighting beside us tomorrow?”

  I shook my head ruefully. “I'm in no shape for war, and I fear I'd be a distraction.” I carefully spread my wings, stretching my painful legs. “Plus, I have an idea. I must first consult the Magician, and he may not go for it, so if I do not return...” I stretched my arms up and out, feeling proper sensation return.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  I glanced at him, slightly startled. “Don't thank me yet, Captain Barrett. Thank me if I return.”

  I backed up and took a running leap into flight. The first few sweeps were ragged and uneven from my time spent in the cage, but I soon picked up an even rhythm. As I flew toward my lord's encampment I felt my muscles relax, and the deep joy of flight washed me. I could happily have stayed aloft forever, drifting wherever the thermals might take me...but I had a job to do.