Andalon Awakens

by T B Phillips

  Braen’s attention returned to Ice Prince and Eusari could see that many of his crew were shouting and waving at him. A week ago, Eusari would not have understood the zealous loyalty they held for their captain, but after spending a week at sea, working alongside him as he learned her own crew’s names and stories, she could not help but admire and also want to follow him. He was a kind and loving man. The kind that she had not believed existed.

  The ship turned its head into the wind and luffed sails to lose speed quickly. Braen smiled and let out a small laugh. “That is Krill’s signature move. The crazy bastard must be at the helm.”

  As the ship slowed, the topside men furled the mainsail. Braen frowned and looked again at the hatch. The pounding had momentarily ceased. Eyes widening with concern, he suddenly addressed Eusari. “They have access to the armory.”

  It was more of a statement than a question, but Eusari answered as if he had asked. Realization crossed her countenance as she added, “they have access to the cannon powder…” Sudden awareness dropped her stomach with dread. The mutineers had control of her guns, powder, and shot. She screamed at her men to ready their arms and quickly led them to circle up around the hatch.

  Braen waved his arms frantically at the crew of Ice Prince, yelling at them to move aft and away from the broadside. Too late, a thunderous boom exploded from below decks. A full salvo ripped through the bow of his ship, sending the forwardmost crewmen flying back with the hail of splinters. He watched in horror as the main mast ripped from the deck and fell with the lurching of the ship. The men who had been rigging the sail were tossed and Eusari saw them disappear into the dark water.

  Her ears rang from the unexpected blast. She watched as the Northman drew his axe from his belt and ran to the hatch. With his broad shoulder he shoved off the gun, moving the heavy piece as easily as if it were a minor obstacle. The weight now removed, the hatch flew open from the banging below, revealing an unsuspecting mutineer holding an axe of his own.

  With a downward motion, Braen swung his at the man’s neck, severing his surprised expression. The rest of the men rushed up the ladder one by one, and he swung like he chopped wood. Violently lashing out and roaring like a snow cat, he severed piece after piece of the mutineers. His bloodlust changed him, and a primordial beast took his place.

  Eusari had killed many men, several in cold blood and many out of vengeance. But she paled in horror at the wild turn in Braen. After watching the cold-blooded ambush of his ship and crew, he ceased to be the charming and attractive captain. He transformed into an animal dripping in the blood of his enemies, wildly killing and screaming inaudible curses and taunts. He was the most terrifying visage of fury she had ever seen.

  Eusari and the rest of the topside crew stood around him, giving just enough room for his wild swinging, weapons drawn to assist. After a few minutes, the men below pulled back from the stairwell, realizing that to exit was certain death. A pile of body parts lay in a pool of blood beneath the ladder, and a blood-soaked Braen bellowed rage. Gone was the easy-going sea captain, replaced by a berserker from the north.

  When the mutineers had stopped climbing the stairs, Braen screamed at them in challenge. “Come out and face me, cowards!” Spit spewed from his mouth, mixing with the blood of the men he had hacked, causing a froth to form like a rabid animal. When no man would exit, Braen looked down into the hatch and saw nine men backed up against the door to the armory. With a final roar of anger, his wild face contorted behind his blood-soaked beard.

  The air around the ship went ice cold. The night had already been cool, and the breeze had been the kind that you turn up your collar against. Abruptly the air around She Wolf became a winter storm. The change took away the breath of everyone witnessing the rage.

  Suddenly, the ship lurched in the water. The pressure around the vessel increased, squeezing the hull from all sides at once. Braen breathed heavily, staring down into the hold as She Wolf slowly sank like a swamped canoe. The water seeped in from the spaces between the boards that strained against the pressure, flooding and filling the hold.

  Below decks, the horrified mutineers cried and screamed for mercy as the entire cavity filled with water. One brave man tried to swim to the ladder, trying his luck against the devil above. Braen threw aside his axe and caught the man’s face between his bare hands, pulling him close as one would a lover. Eusari recognized the man as Johon the Coxswain. She had liked the man, always whistling as he worked with a smile on his face. She tried to remember if he had a wife and kids.

  Braen squeezed the sides of the man’s face slowly. She did not recognize her friend in that moment, fully consumed by bloodlust and revenge. Johon’s skull imploded between two powerful northern hands. As if the action had been related to the pressure around the ship, She Wolf once again lurched.

  Braen dropped the man’s lifeless body into the water below and collapsed on the deck. Tears rolled down his face, streaking the blood. Instantly, the pressure around the swamped ship released, and She Wolf rocked precariously back and forth, ready to sink at any moment. Eusari ran up and closed the hatch, ensuring that the mutineers would drown in their tomb below her feet.

  She carefully picked her way toward Braen as if he were a wounded animal that would lash out if she got too close. Pausing briefly, she motioned her men to help the crew aboard Ice Prince and looked down at the crippled Braston. He cried and coughed as the blood ran down off his body and onto the deck. His scarlet hand felt along his ribcage, tenderly remembering the pain from his beatings.

  She could tell that wanted to stand and run to his crew, but the captain from the north had no more energy. No more anger. He was spent. She knelt beside and hugged him close as he wept on her shoulder.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Eston City mourned her beloved Queen Regent. Citizens painted brightly colored roses on black backgrounds, lining the streets and bridges with the banners and pennants. The old and young alike wore black, and even the poorest found strips of black cloth to tie around their arms to display their loss. She belonged to the people, and they would forever miss their Lady.

  Her funeral spanned six days of holiday, essentially cutting off the outside world. They closed the gates and harbor operations halted commerce. Markets and bazaars even rolled up their tents. Locked in their homes, noblemen whispered stories of intrigue and deception within the Queen Regent’s cabinet and the commoners retold grisly tales of the treasonous beheading. Each city dweller wished that the northern monster was in the ground instead of their beloved matriarch.

  The story spread quickly of how the exiled prince, Braen Braston, had contacted Chancellor Gedon and struck a deal to restore him to his northern throne. He asked only for assistance in ousting his brother, the rightful heir chosen by the legendary Krist Braston. But the Chancellor had a more sinister and devious plan up his treasonous sleeve. He, after years of jealousy, wished to remove the mother of the city, and the rapist and murderer from the north made his options viable.

  The politician knew that he would never hold the throne himself, but saw opportunity in Prince Robert. The boy suffered chronic illnesses, rendering him too feeble to wield either a sword or shield. Illiterate and dumb, the boy lacked the ability to read simple words much less lead the greatest nation in the world. Gedon had found the perfect puppet through which to rule over the masses while lining his pockets with the gold of the people.

  The Queen had longed for retirement to their summer home but recognized that her oldest son was not fit to rule. Thus, she had expressed to the cabinet that she would hold onto leadership until her younger son, Marcus, could pass the trials and rule as well as she. The Chancellor had quickly ordered that the younger prince be kidnapped by Braston, taken across the sea and through the dangerous reefs of Pirate’s Cove. There, he was beaten and tortured by the Northman until a ransom could be collected.

  The leader of the Pirate’s guild, t
he famed Artema Horn, became sympathetic to the plight of the prince, and even tried to rescue Marcus. He launched his ship to take after Braston for a daring high seas rescue, but the cowardly Northman had paid off Horn’s personal guard to attack him. The cowards had fired upon and destroyed his vessel in the harbor of The Cove. The people spoke of the darkness in the heart of the prince of the north, and how he had brutally beaten Marcus Esterling each night at sea.

  The Queen used her own wealth to ransom her son and met the pirates in a secret meeting place. There, Braston and his pirates had raped and beheaded the mother as she cried over her beaten and bloodied son. Captain-General Matteas Brohn fought the blackhearts off and rescued the boy from certain death. His only regret, the story tells, is that the pirate had made off with the ransom money and escaped with his life.

  Every citizen made their way to the square on the seventh day of mourning. They witnessed the most momentous day since the coronation of the first Esterling monarch, and no one missed the trial of the dastardly Chancellor Gedon. Marcus Esterling sat in his mother’s grand chair in the center of the square, overlooking the assembled citizens, every eye watching him during the trial, pitying his plight at the hands of the pirate. They wanted to love him like they had adored his mother.

  The young prince should have been happy with how the masses had played into his ploy, but he felt melancholy. He wanted better weather in which to hold the trial, the spectacle of a century. Winter had moved in quickly and cold wet rain chilled the morning. He wrapped a woolen blanket around his shoulders, shivering and fretting. He held up a mug and an attendant poured some hot spiced wine to help warm him.

  An iron cage rested at the feet of the prince, too low for a man to stand to full height and built in a way that they could not sit either. Movement caught everyone’s attention as a prison wagon made its way toward the platform. Marcus smiled as the citizens threw rotten fruits and vegetables at the occupant. The guards led the old man from the wagon to the platform and someone found a rock to throw, striking him on the forehead and splitting his thin skin. A trail of blood ran down his face and the boy prince let out a little chuckle at the sight.

  Ten Falconers emerged from their Rookery. The overseers would not participate in the trial, but their presence would legitimize the outcome. Chief Magistrate Frasier Boothe rose at the approach of the prisoner and beat his gavel violently to get the crowd’s attention. “Order! Order!”

  Several minutes of prodding from soldiers finally beat back the crowd, forcing them to quiet down. Prince Marcus Esterling stood from his throne, letting his blanket fall onto the platform as he raised his arms so that the crowd could see him. He was a splendid sight, dressed in a tunic adorned with the family crest. In his hands he held a single red rose like a scepter.

  “I carry this rose for my mother. She was a child of spring and cared for her roses as she did her people, with love and patient compassion.” The crowd erupted, this time full of cheers and adulation for the late Queen Regent. Marcus let them die down on their own, then continued. “But occasionally the gardener must weed out the undesirables that threaten to choke out the entire vine.” Again, cheers erupted and chants of, “Kill him!” echoed.

  “My citizens! No man is innocent unless he can prove so in the eyes of the people. Today Lord Chancellor Gedon stands before you to answer allegations that he committed egregious crimes from his seat of power. A seat that he held in trust by the citizenry. By you!” Marcus fought to keep a smile off his face, enjoying the power of the frenzied mob as it grew beneath him. “I ask a personal favor of you, kind people. I ask that you judge him with compassion and patience just as my late mother, your adored matriarch, judged over you.” The eruption lasted several more minutes before the soldiers could again quiet the near frenzied mob. Satisfied, the prince sat down to witness the show.

  “Order! Order!” Magistrate Boothe banged his gavel with all of his strength, shouting over the mob. When it quieted down enough to speak, he asked the prisoner, “Lord Gedon.” The old man straightened his back as much as the cage would let him at his addressal. “High Chancellor and representative of the people of the Esterling Empire, you are charged with crimes against the people and the crown.” The magistrate read each charge aloud so that the crowd would have an opportunity to voice their dissatisfaction. “Kidnapping of a noble. Murder by contract. High treason! How do you plead to these accusations?”

  The crowd hurtled more objects at the cage, several of which struck the chancellor directly. He would have brought his hands up over his face, except that they were shackled to a chain attached to his feet.

  “Not guilty, Magistrate!” The elderly man fought to shout over the now murderous crowd. “I love the people of the Empire and it is my sworn duty to…”

  “Order! Order!” The banging of the gavel drowned out the words following his plea. “The court calls Lord Cedrick Strader, Minister of Finance, to testify against the accused!” Strader strode forward with a somber expression on his face. He raised his hand to swear to the accuracy of his statement.

  “Lord Strader. Did the Chancellor procure the sum of one hundred thousand golden talents from the treasury, just a week before the death of the Queen Regent?”

  “Aye, Magistrate. He did.” The crowd roared again.

  “And where are these funds?”

  “I assume that the chest is in the hands of Lord Braen Braston.”

  “How can you make that assumption? Didn’t the Queen pay him with her own funds?” Boothe spoke over the banging of his own gavel as he questioned the witness.

  “The chest had gone with the Queen to ransom back her son, High Prince Marcus Esterling. She believed it to be from her own vault, but Chancellor tricked her into using the people’s money. He provided an altered procurement form to the treasury, requesting public funds.”

  “Is it customary for the government to pay ransom to pirates, My Lord?”

  “No, Your Honor. That’s why I was shocked by the request.”

  “Who insisted that you deliver over the funds for the ransom?”

  “Your Honor. That was due to the urgings of Chancellor Gedon. He signed the request along with a personal note demanding strict confidence and secrecy regarding the nature of the payment.” The minister’s face dropped, and his countenance was crestfallen, regretful even. “I had to comply with the orders from the representative of the people, Your Honor. I had no choice.” Again, objects began flying toward the caged man, accompanied by boos and more chants.

  “Order! Order!” The magistrate addressed Booth, “You may step down, Minister. You were following orders and are not under trial.” Reading from a paper, he called for the next witness. “The court calls Lord Campton Shol, Minister of Information and Assistant to the Chancellor.”

  Campton Shol wore a simple woolen tunic devoid of sigil and ornamentation. If he had been standing in the crowd it would have been difficult to distinguish him from the commoners. Marcus sat up taller, closely watching the man as he approached the witness platform. Like Boothe, the man swore his testimony and turned to face Chancellor Gedon.

  “Lord Shol. Are you the personal assistant to the Chancellor?”

  “I am.”

  “Have you heard him speak of intent to overthrow the Queen and to support the usurper against his brother?”

  “Your Honor. Lord Gedon spoke often of the older brother, many times comparing the boy to his younger brother.” At the mention of Marcus, he gestured toward the royal box. “He did not care much for the younger prince, and often expressed as much to me and whomever would pay attentions to his ramblings.”

  “Answer the question. Have you heard him speak of his intent to overthrow Lady Crestal Esterling?”

  “I assure you. Had I overheard such treason I would have reported it immediately.”

  “I see. As Minister of Information, you have access to secrets that are
little known to the rest of us for reasons of national security. Tell us. Who kidnapped Prince Marcus?”

  “Why, Braen Braston, of course! I have the written request for ransom, right here.” The crowd again exploded.

  “Order! Order!” Once the crowd had settled, the magistrate pressed on. “What was the Chancellor’s response when the Queen was informed of the kidnapping?”

  “He was adamant that we pay the ransom. She was afraid to use public funds for such a folly, but he insisted. When she tried to argue against his insistence, he literally lunged out of his chair at her in anger.” An inhalation of shock went through the crowd and the man in the cage began to cry.

  “I see. Do you believe that the Chancellor intended to overthrow Lady Crestal in support of Prince Robert?”

  “In my heart I believe Lord Gedon would have rather placed a chimpanzee on the throne than any of the Esterling family. Prince Robert was just the easiest for him to manipulate, Your Honor.” More rocks than fruits and vegetables began to fly at the cage, so much that Lord Shol had to hurry off of the platform. Marcus beamed as he watched the crowd intensify.

  “Order!” The magistrate shouted to the chief of the guard, and soldiers fanned out. “This court calls Captain General Matteas Brohn to testify!”

  Matteas approached the stand and swore in like the others. But when he turned to face the Chancellor he reared back and spit in the man’s face. The crowd exploded in cheers. “Order! Order! I will remind the witness to refrain from making personal judgements while on the stand.

  “I apologize, Your Honor. But I watched as Braen Braston struck the head from my Queen. Before he did so, he plainly stated that he was acting on behalf of Lord Gedon.” For the first time that morning, the crowd had gone completely silent, tears filling the eyes of both the men and the women.