by Nick Martell
I continued to back away from everyone toward the doors of the church. Angelo was somewhere in there, and I had to get to him alive. Just a little longer.
“You’re a sick monster, Kingman. Just like your pathetic father,” Efyra snarled. “Do you get some perverted pleasure out of killing people? You little bastard. I should’ve snuffed the life out of you after your father’s execution like I wanted to.”
I said nothing, continuing to back away into the church. As soon as I crossed the church’s threshold, I shouted, “Close the doors! Do it, or I’ll kill her!”
Efyra snapped at two Advocators. “Do it. Close the doors. Lock the son of a bastard in there. He can beg for forgiveness to God before I rip out his entrails. Do it!”
The Advocators looked at Efyra multiple times before grabbing the edges of the massive wooden doors and closing them. Efyra stood directly in the center, watching me through the gap until the doors were fully closed with a thunderous crash. I dropped the sword and then pulled the wooden bar down as the pounding on the door began.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Chloe as I wrapped her wrists up in my chains. “I’m sorry it had to be you. There was no one else. You were the only one I thought your mother wouldn’t risk.”
“Are you deranged? How do you plan on escaping here with your life?” she said.
“I don’t.” I tightened the chains and then pushed her to the ground, her armor clashing against the stone. I took up the sword and walked down the aisle toward the man waiting for me behind the podium.
THE LEGACY OF MICHAEL KINGMAN
Angelo Shade leaned against the podium, staring straight at me with those grey eyes of his. His military jacket was pristine, his black hair tidy, and the beard he had in the dungeons was gone. There wasn’t even a flush across his face. “I’ll be honest…,” he said. “I didn’t expect this, Michael.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted? Why else walk in here during my execution but to give us some private time once I escaped?”
He rolled his eyes, muttering something to himself. “Turn yourself in, and maybe Efyra will show some mercy and only behead you.”
“Why did you frame my father? Was it really because he defeated you on the Day of Crowning?”
Angelo glanced toward Chloe on the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Michael.”
“Don’t lie to me! Why did you frame my father for Davey’s murder?”
“You’re delusional, Michael. I didn’t do anything to your father. I never knew him. I didn’t migrate to Hollow until long after he was dead.”
I tapped the tip of the sword against the stone. “Stop lying to me. Tell me the truth about the assassination of Davey Hollow. I know it was your gun that killed him. The symbol on the bullets matches the one on your ring!”
He held up his hands. The ring with the hands ripping apart the crown was missing. “What ring, Michael? You’ve lost your mind. Put the sword down. There’s no need for further bloodshed.”
I cursed. “I should’ve expected you to take the ring off. There’s still the—”
Sharp pain splintered through me and I screamed, then collapsed to the floor, shaking in pain. The sword fell to my side. I tried to spread the warmth over my body but… I was so cold, I could barely hold on to it, let alone spread it over my entire body.
“Commander Shade,” Chloe called from the back of the church. Her hands were electrified and the chains had been cut in half. “Are you well?”
“Yes. Be wary! He’s a Nullify Fabricator. He may not be as weak as he appears.”
Chloe shot me in the chest again with lightning and I screamed, convulsing on the floor. She kept me pinned with a steady stream of lightning until my body went so numb that the pain stopped. I closed my eyes and focused on the small warmth in my chest. I still had a chance so long as it didn’t go out.
When I stopped moving, Chloe stepped over my body to pick up her sword and then walked over to Angelo. “Commander Shade, we should open the doors and let the captain deal with him. It’s my priority to get you to safety.”
No, not yet. I grunted and pushed myself off the ground, wobbling to my knees. I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t let Angelo win. I had to stand. For Davey. For Gwen. For Lyon. For my father, and for everyone else I had hurt in my pursuit to restore my family’s legacy. I couldn’t let it go to waste. Every muscle was shaking, but I continued to rise steadily until I was standing and looking them in the eyes. The small warmth in my chest steadied me like a lone star in a cloudy sky.
“I warned you he was resilient,” Angelo declared.
“Not for long,” she said, electrifying her hand. “Stand back, Commander. I’ll end this once and for all.” Chloe wound up and threw a bolt of lightning at me.
I put my hand out, remembering the stories from my youth about my ancestors and the legendary feats they had accomplished. I let all my warmth cover it and plucked the lightning out of the air. I held it, snapping and crackling in my hand, steadier on my feet while I looked at the lightning I held.
Perhaps I could stand side by side with my ancestors after all.
Jamal would be proud of me.
With all my remaining strength, I threw the lightning back at Chloe. She didn’t move or dodge it, eyes wide as the lightning hit her straight in the chest.
The Raven crumpled to the ground like a bird with clipped wings.
I fell to my knees, breathing heavily. All my strength was gone. I had nothing left. And yet Angelo was perfectly fine.
Angelo kicked at Chloe. She didn’t move. I couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.
“Interesting,” he said. “You learned how to use your Defensive Fabrication as a weapon. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so annoyed. Why did you have to go digging into the long-buried past, Michael? You could have been at my side instead of trying to oppose me.”
“Why did you frame my father?”
He laughed and took the sword from Chloe’s hand. “Do you know how I’ve achieved so much in my life, Michael? I wasn’t born into the noble lifestyle. A single father raised me and taught me that power was the worth of a man. I was born with nothing and had to earn everything, without even an inkling of power to protect myself… I’m not even a Fabricator. Did you know that?”
“Answer my question.”
“Aren’t I?” he asked, extending his arms out as he walked toward me. “I don’t know how your father figured out what I had planned that day, but he showed up at the right spot at the right time and was about to ruin everything. He nearly caught the assassin and saved the prince. I did the only thing I could: I bet on the unrelenting love a parent feels for his child and ordered the murder of the prince in front of your father. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it worked. The king instantly accepted that his best friend had murdered his son. I didn’t even need to give your father a motive: the king assumed it was a power play for the throne. I love when people put emotions over logic. It makes them easier to manipulate.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t understand what? That I took advantage of your father’s love of his family and duty to his country to destroy him? I knew that if King Isaac threatened you and your siblings, your father would crumble under the pressure and admit he murdered the prince to protect you all. King Isaac simply believed the lie that was fabricated for him that day, and the days that followed. Not that I can fault him… grief is a terrible burden to carry. Better men than him have been destroyed by it. I’m honestly surprised he lasted as long as he did before he killed himself.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Angelo cut me off.
“How do I know you didn’t do it? Simple. The king has been a broken man for a very long time; he’s been a puppet for years, and ideally would have been until his daughter was old enough to rule, and then, well… I won’t ruin the surprise, but I suppose you’ve moved up my timeline a little bit. It’s better this way. I couldn’t distract you from your crazy idea of rest
oring your family honor; thankfully Gwen and Lyon never aspired to do that, only you… but I imagine it’ll be easier to destroy them now if they do. Your death will haunt them for the rest of their lives. The last members of the Kingman family. What a title to hold.”
Angelo raised the tip of the sword over my heart and prodded me with it. I fell over onto my back like a dying animal. It hurt to breathe. I had nothing left, and Angelo stood over me, the sword pointed at my heart.
“Why take us in? Why take care of us?”
“Because you were malleable children that I could shape and direct any way I wanted. Did you think I loved you? Or that I made so little money I couldn’t afford decent food or nice clothes? I hope not. Else you’d be stupider than I thought you were. Michael, let me be clear: you were nothing more than pawns I planned to turn against Hollow one day. It was my dream to watch the Kingman family destroy the country they had been bound to protect—and I was so close. What sweet irony it would have been.”
“But why?” I asked one last time.
“Because you’re a High Noble. I have a blood debt to repay to all of you for what you did to the love of my life and unborn daughter. Don’t worry, the rest of your kind will face the same fate soon enough. I don’t discriminate.”
Angelo pushed the tip of the sword through my shirt and cut into my skin until it dug ever so slightly into my chest. I couldn’t even scream, just gasp for air and claw at the edges of the sword. My cut palms didn’t do anything but dye the blade red as I tried to pull it out. I was useless and powerless once again. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. This was never your story, Michael. It was mine.”
Angelo pushed the sword further into my chest, wiggling it back and forth with a smile. Wood snapped and cracked behind me as my vision began to blur.
So this was how it was going to end. I didn’t feel any warmth, as I had under the river. There was nothing. Nothing except for a set of very… very… heavy… eyelids.
My search was over… my legacy written… now it was time for me to see my father and tell him I did my—
“Get the fuck away from my son!”
“And would you kindly take that sword out of my apprentice’s chest?”
Ma? Dark? What…? How…?
I gasped for air as the sword left my chest. I convulsed, covering the wound, bleeding profusely. As I tried to put pressure on it, I rolled my eyes back to the entrance. My mother, Dark, Lyon, Gwen, Charles Domet, the Whisperer for the Church of the Eternal Flame, and the Captain of the Ravens, along with every Raven in Hollow, were walking toward us. The Ravens surrounded me and Angelo, then stood still as statues. Behind the Ravens were others, all smiling and standing as tall as titans.
“Captain Efyra,” Angelo stated. “I was dealing with the king killer. He attacked me in a delusional rage. Luckily, I was able to disarm him after your daughter distracted him. I—”
“Where is she?” Efyra said.
Angelo pointed behind the podium.
The captain walked past me, stepping on my wrist as she made her way to her daughter’s side. She removed the chest plate and put her fingers on Chloe’s neck. “Breathing. Thank God. The Wanderer has guided God to watch over her today, it seems.”
My mother beckoned Gwen and Lyon forward as she stood between Angelo and me. I had never felt safer in my life, and was suddenly very aware of what the Kingman family had once been like. She was in charge, everyone following her directions without complaint, even if she was a traitor’s wife.
Lyon knelt at my side and put one of his hands over the wound as he ran the other through my hair. Gwen was hugging me, crying, and getting covered in blood.
“We’re all here, Michael,” Lyon said, staring at our mother. “You’ll be fine. Just hold on a little longer. Breathe deeply and slowly. We have you. She’s back, Michael. She’s back. Ma’s back to normal and I have no idea how or why, but she’s back to normal.”
“I don’t understand,” Angelo said, looking around. “What is going on?”
Efyra had her daughter’s head in her lap, running her hands through her frizzy black hair.
Instead my mother said, “There was a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“Yes,” Charles Domet said. He didn’t look anywhere near me. “A mistake, Commander Shade. We almost executed a Mercenary of Orbis Company on false grounds. We almost started a war. Luckily, this Mercenary and his company came forward in time to stop it.”
“What? Explain.”
Dark stood straight and looked his father in the eyes, a big smile on his face. “I thought I explained when I walked in. He’s my apprentice. And you almost killed him. At least, if these imbeciles had done it, they could’ve hidden behind politics, but you… I wonder what it would have been like to be the person who started a war with Mercenaries.”
There was a round of hollering from behind the Ravens.
“Him? A Mercenary? Are you all blind? How can he be a Mercenary? I’ve been his father for—”
“Foster father,” my mother corrected icily.
“Foster father,” Angelo said with disdain, “for ten years, and never once has Michael come anywhere close to fulfilling the necessary trials, let alone the documentation—”
Dark pulled a rolled sheaf of paper out of his pocket. He faked being shocked once it was visible to everyone in the room. “Oh, goodness me, is this what I think it is? A Mercenary contract signed in Michael’s own blood? Don’t bother worrying about whether it’s really his blood or not. It is. There were witnesses. Even one or two respectable ones. Like it or not, Michael Kingman is a Mercenary, ready to serve his company. He’s mine.”
“When did he sign the papers?” Angelo inquired.
Dark tapped his chin. “Not positive. Must’ve been before the king died, but I can’t remember when. Maybe I lost the memory when I used a Fabrication. It happens; no catastrophe, since we have the paperwork.”
From the back of the church, Efyra said, “Until we can prove beyond doubt that Michael Kingman killed King Isaac, we’re forced to release him into Dark’s custody.” She had one hand tenderly on Chloe’s face.
“A king killer walks free? First the rebel leader and now the king killer? What has this country come to if we can’t even prosecute those two?” some obnoxious religious figure asked.
“As I said,” Dark said, “do you want to be the one who starts a war with every Mercenary company on this continent? You all know the rules: Prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt and my company will send you his head on a silver platter. But it must be us who do it. Only Mercenaries try other Mercenaries.”
“As it should be,” voices bellowed from behind the Ravens.
“Michael Kingman can’t leave this city until we know the absolute truth of what happened on that balcony,” Efyra stated. “That’s the condition. These Mercenaries want proof? We’ll give them so much evidence, they’ll choke on it. Every Evoker, noble, bounty hunter, Tweeker, Royal, and Scales operative will be after him. This is merely a delay. Nothing more. Justice will come for him. Be it in the street or at the end of an executioner’s ax, our king will be avenged and our country will have its revenge.”
“Or maybe,” Domet said, with a glance at me, “we’ve just saved ourselves from executing another innocent Kingman.” Everyone looked at him except my mother, who smiled at me instead. “Ignore me: I’m still drunk from yesterday.”
“Efyra is right. He can’t escape justice forever,” Angelo declared. “Michael Kingman will die before we crown another. I have faith in our city to purge this evil. Hollow has not survived by being weak and powerless.”
“No,” my mother said with iron in her voice. “Hollow has survived because of my family, and now we’re back to avert a war. You can thank us later.”
I stared at the colored light streaming through the stained glass windows. I was free—well, as free as I could be after being tried for regicide. And although the government was still coming after me, I c
ould feel the warmth on my skin again. It was a brilliant-light warmth, like lying on the grass in the sunshine. Something I’d thought I’d never feel again.
The bells tolled above me as I drifted away with my brother at my side and my sister whispering comforting things in my ear.
I had my truth, my freedom, and my life.
Angelo Shade would die by my hand another day.
EPILOGUE DAWN OF A NEW DAY
“Hey, Da.”
My father’s grave was overrun with weeds, the three-tier headstone was discolored, and a blanket of frozen snow covered it. The spot for candles and incense was completely empty, and it hadn’t been maintained in years. Nature had been allowed to run wild with the space no one wanted to care about. His headstone didn’t even have his name on it. Instead, the words May Happiness Find Him in Death had been engraved on it in plain bold lettering.
It was nowhere near any of my other ancestors’ resting places—almost half a city away from the water crypts below Kingman Keep. It was Isaac’s last act of revenge against my father, or maybe it was his only act of mercy. Maybe I would have been buried next to him, in this empty place on the outskirts of the city, full of dead trees and cold, rocky ground.
I wondered if my grave would have looked like this. Probably, since people don’t visit convicted king killers. I hadn’t, and he was my father… but it didn’t matter. I knelt in front of his grave and began to pull the weeds. It would take a while, but we had a lot to catch up on.
“It’s been years since I visited last. I… uh… I meant to come back more. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
I yanked a pocket of weeds out of the ground. The bristles dug into my palms, numbing them. Or maybe it was the cold. Winter was in full swing, even though most of the snow had melted. Only the bitterness and a memory of spring remained.
“It’s been five years, I think,” I said. “I never meant to stop visiting, I just… I felt… I stopped coming because… I was ashamed of you. I tried not to believe the charges against you, and for a while I was strong—I denied them for a long time—until the last time I came to visit. You probably saw what those children did to me that day. I gave up after that. It was easier to hate you than to keep fighting. I wasn’t strong enough to defend you. Or smart enough to see that you were selfless enough to put your pride aside for us. Everything you did was for us.”
