The Kiss From a Dragon

by C. D. Pennington

  “Sir, when did you see it? How long ago?” she asked, but this time she got no answer. The man’s head slumped forward, and he started snoring loudly.

  “Take no mind o’ him, miss,” one of the captives on the back wall said. “Pissed as a fart, he is.”

  But he may well have been telling the truth, Cerana wanted to believe. And if there were dragons as she suspected, maybe she could find a cure for Esteri after all. The problem was, Cerana was stuck in the depths of Southstorm dungeon, and she was probably the only one who knew how vitally important this news was.

  CHAPTER 34 – The Trial of Cerana Proudstone

  In the gloomy cell beneath Southstorm’s castle, it was impossible to tell the time of day. The guards ignored her whenever she asked them anything, and no-one else in the cell had any way of knowing either. Cerana was trying to work out how long she had been held here, but to no avail.

  Since she had been wrongfully incarcerated, three more prisoners had been brought down to the cells and marched straight past them, presumably down to one of the other cells along the corridor. She had neither seen nor heard anyone being taken out of the dungeon for their trials as yet.

  Her shackles allowed her to at least stand up to stretch her legs, but it was not what she would call comfortable. Cerana wondered how she might find any sleep – if she was still here by that time.

  The longer time went on, the more worried she became. If she was to die here, she hoped that somehow Jana and Esteri would figure out about the dragon and pick up the trail from where she had left off. But Cerana had not told Jana about her encounter with the mysterious beauty in the woods and the dragon-like phenomena she had witnessed, so she would be none the wiser. Maybe they would let her write a letter to Jana if the worst happened and she was found guilty. At least then she could explain her findings, and her new-found knowledge would not die with her.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the clanking of mail armour approaching the cells, getting louder as it neared. Four fully-armoured guards with huge halberds marched to Cerana’s cell and stopped right outside in a formidable line, looking inwards but directly at the back wall, not to any of the inmates.

  “The following prisoners have been called to trial,” one of them said in an authoritative voice. “If your name is called, stand up. Any attempt to escape or otherwise will result in punishment. You will be escorted to the king’s council where you will enter one-by-one to await your trial.” He spoke as if he had said that speech a thousand times, confident and intimidating.

  Please let it be me first. Let’s get this over with, Cerana thought.

  “Jeremiah Polerick. Arshan Stubbs. Cerana Proudstone.”

  Her heart jumped as she heard her name called, and she stood. She was relieved, but also terrified. The two men on the back wall also stood up when hearing their names.

  “See you on the other side,” the man next to her whispered with a smirk on his face. Cerana ignored him and stood to attention as one of the guards unlocked the cell door, and three entered. The guard who had served the summons remained outside the cell. They came to Cerana first, two of them standing imposingly on either side of her. The other guard unlocked the manacle attached to her right wrist, fed the chain from the ring on the wall, then reattached it to her wrist.

  “Take her,” he ordered. One of the guards grabbed her upper arm roughly, and Cerana was forced out of the cell.

  She was slowly marched down the corridor. Looking back into the cell, she saw the man who had warned her of the trial smirking at her. She shivered, trudging away down the torchlit corridor.

  The guards escorted her up a flight of narrow stone steps. Once at the top, she was taken down another corridor to face two enormous wooden doors that must have been twenty feet high. Hundreds of metal studs adorned the panels, and two bronze lion heads held rings in their mouths.

  She was marched up to the door where she stood facing one of the lions. After waiting outside the door in silence, a soft knock prompted one of her guards to turn and pull the large iron ring. The door opened as smooth as silk. Held roughly by the arm, the guard marched Cerana into the most enormous room she had ever seen. The door was closed behind her, echoing through the silent chamber.

  The room had two rows of colossal marble pillars leading her view to a raised area where a beautiful gold and emerald throne sat empty. Two smaller seats to each side of the impressive throne also sat unoccupied.

  Instead of being led to the throne, she was marched to her right, which led to a smaller opening where four people sat on high-backed chairs behind a long table. On either side of her, wooden pews were filled with rather scruffy looking people staring at her, creating an atmosphere of intimidation. The guard halted her between the two rows of benches, directly in front of the long table. She felt thirty or so pairs of eyes fixed on her intently, and she dare not look round. She stared straight ahead at the table.

  “Cerana Proudstone,” a small, weasel-like man said as he stood from his seat. He wore black robes and had a balding head with a sharp, pointy face. “May I remind you that you stand before the ruler of Evorene, King Talis Breanth.”

  The king nodded towards her, a stern expression on his rugged face. On his head, the king wore a golden crown: a magnificent specimen of intertwining serpents inlaid with scarlet rubies. Six serpents there were in all, each with open mouths and delicate forked tongues, and sparkling diamonds for eyes. He wore a splendid black-and-red doublet with beautifully embroidered golden serpents on each side; the serpent being the symbol of House Breanth. Although advancing in years, his cropped grey hair and beard along with stern features still gave him that air of confidence and authority.

  “I am Imlar Borman,” the small man continued, “the king’s chief advisor. To my left is Grand Knight Ansel Whalton and next to the king is Princess Kyreen Breanth. Together, we will conduct your trial today.”

  Princess Kyreen looked resplendent in a cream velvet dress that covered her slim figure from neck to foot. Her flame-red hair was held back in a long ponytail by an ornate silver brooch. She smiled kindly at Cerana, with a look of pity on her pretty face.

  Ansel Whalton looked as stern as the king, with cropped dark hair and a chiselled face. He wore the same type of silver armour the other guards had worn, except he had golden shoulder guards.

  “Miss Proudstone,” Borman continued. “You stand accused of the murders of two civilians – Pelan Corr and Alleran Goldthorn. How do you plead?”

  “Not guilty! But I-”

  “Thank you, Miss Proudstone,” Borman cut her off. “We shall now go through the evidence.”

  Evidence? What evidence!

  “Two days since, you were seen snooping around the residence of Mister Pelan and Mister Tavlor Corr. You were also witnessed trespassing in their barn, which is private property. You left sometime later with another female, after which the bodies of Pelan Corr and Alleran Goldthorn were found.”

  Alleran’s body was there all along?

  “A witness has testified that they saw you murder Pelan Corr. Another witness -”

  “I did not!” Cerana blurted, interrupting his speech.

  “You will speak only when ordered!” commanded Borman.

  “This is madness!” she yelled.

  “ONE MORE WORD FROM YOU, AND YOU WILL BE HANGED IMMEDIATELY!” Borman shouted.

  “Do as he says, Miss Proudstone,” Princess Kyreen advised in a soft but wise voice.

  Reluctantly, Cerana nodded.

  “Your Majesty,” Borman turned to the king. “To me, this seems a simple case. Two independent witnesses have sworn of Miss Proudstone’s actions - the murder of an innocent person. It is true, the murder of Alleran Goldthorn was not witnessed, but in light of Miss Proudstone’s previous actions, it is quite easy to assume she was also responsible for his murder.”

  Cerana could not believe what she was hearing, but she bided her time, hoping that she would be allowed to protest her innocence as anger b
oiled inside her.

  “There is little need – in my eyes - to waste any more time with this one,” Borman rasped, scowling at Cerana from the corner of his eye.

  “Cerana Proudstone,” King Talis said, in a far more jovial voice than Cerana expected. “The evidence is certainly damning. Do you have anything to say? Speak now if so.”

  Finally, she had the chance to protest her innocence. “Sire, I know not of these so-called witnesses, but whoever they are, they lie,” Cerana said defiantly, trying not to let her anger take over her emotions.

  “Are you accusing a member of the king’s council as a liar?” Borman said.

  “Let her finish,” the king commanded.

  But Borman’s words perplexed her, and she frowned. A member of the court was the witness? Who could that possibly be? Then it dawned on her. The female at the barn. It had to be her, who else could it have been? But why would she lie, and say that she witnessed Cerana murder Pelan? And what was she doing there in the first place? This whole farcical scenario was looking increasingly like she was being set up – framed for murders just so the king could exact his ‘justice’.

  “It is true - I did trespass on their property. To that, I admit,” Cerana protested. “But only to rescue my sister Jana, whom the Corrs had kidnapped and were holding in their barn. I saw Pelan die, but it was not by my hand. He attacked me as I tried to rescue Jana. We fought, but he fell through a hatch and landed on his own dagger.”

  Intakes of breath were audible from the audience, and King Talis shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You have proof of this?” he asked, clearing his throat.

  “Only from my sister, sire. There was no-one else in the barn. Pelan’s brother was not there. I beg of you to consult Jana. I fear I am being deliberately set up, but by whom and why - I know not.” Cerana spoke defiantly, rattling in her chains as she moved slightly.

  “Miss Proudstone,” Imlar Borman resumed. “I have a witness here in this court who says he saw you murder Pelan Corr and Alleran Goldthorn.”

  The crowd murmured once more. Cerana looked round in surprise, keen to know who this alleged witness was. She suspected it to be Tavlor, but she could not see him in the audience.

  “Although he wishes to remain anonymous, and his wish has been granted,” Borman smirked. He knew he had her now.

  Conveniently, Cerana thought. I am being well and truly stitched up here.

  “Sir, someone is trying to make me take the fall for these murders, I had nothing to do with them except save my sister.” Cerana was growing more and more desperate. It seemed that every defence she offered, more false evidence surfaced from Borman.

  “The evidence is rather damning, Miss Proudstone,” the king surmised. “Two witnesses say you committed the murders. One is a member of my court, whom I trust.”

  “Who? I don’t understand,” she pleaded.

  The king stood from his chair, ominously. Every seated occupant of the room stood with him, the audience included. “You have failed to provide any tangible evidence to suggest that you did not murder Pelan Corr. I have reason to believe you were capable of murdering Alleran Goldthorn also.”

  “No, please…” Cerana began to cry, frustration and fear mounting.

  “Murders have been committed in my realm. I cannot let them go unpunished,” King Talis continued. “I must decide what needs to be done.”

  “I am being framed!” Cerana yelled, tears flowing. The guards had to hold her back as she wriggled in her chains.

  “I will be the judge of that,” the king said sternly. He then turned to his council, and they whispered together whilst Cerana sobbed. After a few moments, the king stepped toward her. Princess Kyreen closed her eyes and lowered her head, her hands clasped in front of her.

  “Cerana Proudstone,” the king’s words seemed to echo through the hall. “You have failed to provide a convincing case for your innocence. There are witnesses - one of which has proved to be most trustworthy whilst in my service. Therefore I have no option but to find you guilty of murder on two counts. I hereby sentence you to death by hanging, being the punishment for murder in Evorene.”

  “Noooooooo!” Cerana screamed, the guards holding her up to stop her from dropping to her knees. “I am being set up!” she cried.

  “Guards, take her away.” The king turned his back on her and returned to his seat as the two guards dragged a yelling, screaming and wailing Cerana out of the so-called trial. Imlar Borman smiled smugly, an evil grin appearing on his thin lips. Princess Kyreen stared at the floor, unable to watch.

  The crowd applauded and cheered.

  “Murderer!”, “Hang, you bitch!” and “Spit on you!” were just some of the comments she heard as she was dragged from the hall.

  The huge doors closed firmly behind her.

  CHAPTER 35 – Sentenced to Death

  Cerana had been gagged, and a dark hood placed over her head as she was marched away. She must now be outside as she felt cool air meet her skin, but she could not tell what time of day it was as the hood restricted her vision. The smell of burning reached her nostrils, but its source was unknown to her.

  She was then lifted by the arms and forced to sit down on an uncomfortable wooden plank. Her manacled wrists were fastened to the side of the cart in which she had been placed. She was terrified and breathing hard, her head darting in all directions in a futile effort to see where she was and what was going on.

  Sounds of other prisoners - clearly also gagged - and the clanking of chains told her she was not alone in the vehicle, and she presumed they were also being taken to their deaths. She struggled against her chains, but it was useless. The sound of terrified people filled the air.

  Then suddenly they were moving. The clip-clop of hooves and the rattle of the wooden cart on the pathway confirming her fears. I am being taken to die for a crime I did not commit, she though. Someone has set me up, but who? And why? Cerana guessed she would never know the answers, as despite her pleas as she was being taken from the trial, she was simply ignored.

  She heard people crying and others attempting to yell and scream, but she kept herself quiet. There was no use now; it was over. The injustice of it all was painful, but what was more distressing was knowing she had information that could help her sisters, but she would never be able to let them know. She silently wept and prayed that her sisters would be spared and Esteri would fully recover. She hoped her siblings would not think ill of her, and maybe even find some justice for her in time. Despite her innocence, Cerana had unwillingly tarnished the Proudstone name, and it worried her to think that her sisters may suffer because of it. This was all so unfair!

  It seemed they had travelled far, which only added to the apprehension and fear that had manifested in the cart. The path was not a smooth one, and the prisoners were thrown around as much as their constraints would allow. This caused further pain as the iron manacles could only move so far, the metal biting into her skin. After what seemed like hours, the cart finally stopped, and she heard the sound of boots marching past her. Her head darted around again for any signs she could pick up as to what was happening.

  Were they here? Was this the end?

  She saw soft shadows in front of her from underneath her hood, and whimpering sounds and chains rattling. And she heard fear. Strong hands grasped her, and she was released from the shackle attaching her to the cart. Her hands were still cuffed behind her, and leg irons hindered her movements as she was lifted and dragged from the cart. Her feet dropped onto the ground once more before she was marched off with the other prisoners.

  This is it.

  She tried to be brave, but could not stem the flow of tears that escaped her eyes.

  They had not walked far when the strong hands forced her to a halt, and she was turned sideways. The grip was released before the hood was pulled away from her head. Her vision abruptly returned to her, and she blinked as the sudden daylight hurt her eyes and she fought to see again.

  She had no
t become fully accustomed to the light when the thick rope of the noose was placed over her head and tightened around her neck. Her terrified, bulging eyes scanned her surroundings to see she stood on a wooden platform on which a set of gallows loomed. To her right, two men stood with their heads in nooses attached to a wooden beam above them. To her left, the guards were working their way down a line of five or six others, removing their hoods and placing nooses around their necks. There was one other female that she could see; the rest appeared to be men, every one of them gagged and shackled.

  Three guards and an official-looking man stood before them, watching and whispering to each other. Fear lingered in the air, and muffled cries and sobs could be heard, along with heavy breathing all around her. Breathing hard herself and biting into her gag, Cerana had never felt so terrified and helpless.

  This is the end. There is no escape now.

  She thought of Jana and Esteri, and all the things she had not yet had time to do in her relatively short life. Of all the things they would now never have the chance to do together as a family. She thought of her parents, and her pain as to their untimely demise. But soon she would be unburdened of that pain, as well as all the guilt. In death, she would be with them soon enough, and she could explain everything. She hoped they would forgive her. And together once more, they could watch over Jana and Esteri until one day they would all be reunited.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the official man said as he walked along the line of sobbing prisoners. “You have all been found guilty of your crimes. In the name of the king, you will now face punishment for those crimes. Very soon, you will hang until you are dead.”

  Cerana heard whimpering and sobbing all around her, as the stark realisation hit them all, if it had not already sunk in. The man walked down some stairs at the end of the raised gallows. He stopped in the middle of the line of victims.

  “Once you are dead, your sins will have been fully paid. May the gods have mercy on your souls.” He nodded to a guard who stood beside the gallows, who heaved over a lever and the floor gave way below them.