by H B Lyne
Like at the house, the five of them crossed the veil in Eyes' car, hidden from view in the dark car park behind tinted windows. Their feet found the floor and Eyes looked quickly around. He drew a sharp breath as he came face to face with a vast construct in the small lobby that they had emerged in. The demon had hundreds of tentacles that rifled through thousands of sheets of paper and tiny creatures scuttled around it collecting and delivering documents. The construct stopped and peered at him with its eyes, all twenty of them.
'What do you want?' Its voice was like the rustling of paper.
'We're here for a hearing,' Eyes replied. 'We're the Lightning Lords.'
'Ah, yesssss,' the demon hissed and smiled, showing rows of sharp teeth. Eyes leaned away in alarm and felt his pack mates against his back. Claws put a hand on his shoulder and patted it, Eyes stood tall and glared at the demon. 'This way.' It moved aside and held out a dozen tentacles to indicate the hall behind it. Eyes squeezed through the small space into the corridor and he looked back to see the pack follow him.
'Thank you,' Claws said as he passed the construct and it gave him a small nod.
They made their way down the dimly lit, panelled corridor, their footsteps loud against the wooden floor. The smell of polish filled Eyes' nostrils and he wrinkled his nose. He could make out a wooden door ahead but it seemed to take an age to reach it, the corridor kept expanding and keeping the door out of reach. He walked briskly, determination driving him forward, through the frustration that rumbled beneath the surface. The gap gradually closed, and finally he grasped the handle and pushed the door open.
Bright light met him and he blinked against it as he stepped out into the open space before him. The others followed close behind and spread out to stare up at the courtroom around them. Eyes felt sand beneath his feet and as he took a few cautious steps he felt it seep into his shoes. All around them were tiered wooden benches and the court was open to the blue sky. Straight ahead was a sheltered platform with large chairs and a red and gold banner hanging over a judge's bench, on it was emblazoned a golden lion, the Lion of Saint Mark. It was all rather like a gladiatorial arena, which didn't give him the greatest confidence that this was going to be a fair trial.
Behind the bench was a tall, thin figure, shrouded in shadow from the canopy over its head. Eyes squinted, hoping to make out more detail, but the demon blended perfectly into the shadows. All around them on the seats were dozens of figures, all chattering eagerly and watching the shifters carefully. Eyes saw the hawk-headed demon and the hanged man that his pack mates had described to him. There was a beautiful woman sitting close to the judge, she shimmered silver and blue and Eyes felt serene as he looked at her. All around the arena were crows and ravens and at the edges of the pit were dozens of small, black imps wielding sharp implements. They twitched and jabbered in croaky voices. Beside the judge stood a towering figure with long, serrated blades hanging from its shoulders all around its body instead of arms.
Unchained Lightning flew down from the clear, blue sky and landed with an impressive thud in the sand beside Eyes. Behind the Lightning Lords, the wooden door slammed shut and Eyes flinched. The small imps suddenly rushed forward and Eyes felt something sharp stab his leg and searing pain in his hand. He yanked his hand up and the pain was blinding. His eyes re-focused and he saw that a black, iron poker was sticking straight through his right palm and another dug into his calf. He snarled and kicked at the imp on the other end of the pokers but it merely cackled at him.
All around him his pack were similarly impaled, the smell of blood reached his nose and snapping, snarling sounds issued from the other shifters as they struggled to retain their composure.
'Test their guilt,' a commanding voice boomed out from the judge's bench and Eyes began to convulse; he dropped to his knees, feeling the coarse sand beneath him. Memories flooded his mind, of every pain and hurt he had ever inflicted on anyone he cared about. The two dead Witches' faces, almost identical as they were, jumped out at him as clear as day. His family were there, bleeding, broken and traumatised and Eyes began to sob. The convulsions became worse and he felt a hard knot in his stomach begin to pulse and rise into his chest. His throat felt tight and wet and he knew what was coming just a second before he vomited on the sand beneath him.
He dropped face down to the floor next to the contents of his stomach, his breath short and sharp in his aching throat and chest. His body fell still and his vision slowly returned to normal. He heard the groans of his pack around him and lifted his head enough to see Wind Talker collapsed in a heap nearby, his face pale and clammy and the residue of vomit on his chin.
Eyes made himself sit up, even though his body ached. He looked around and saw that he and Wind Talker had fared far worse than the others. Weaver knelt down beside him and placed a tender hand on his shoulder.
'Are you all right?' she whispered. He nodded and Weaver hastily helped him to his feet. He dusted the sand from his suit and cleared his throat. Eyes winced as the imps withdrew their implements and retreated to the edges of the pit. The figures on the benches cackled with glee, fingers were pointed and noisy chatter filled the air.
'Silence!' a booming voice commanded and the crowd obeyed.
The figure behind the bench leaned forward into the light. The judge wore a black gown and had at least six arms protruding from its sides and its face was an iron mask. 'You stand before the Hundred Court to be judged for your crimes. How do you plead?'
'We cannot possibly enter a plea without knowledge of specific charges,' Eyes called out.
'Failure to uphold bargains,' a silky voice said. Eyes looked for the source and saw the creature with bladed arms drifting down from the seats and landing softly on the sand in front of the judge.
'Jagged-Knives-of-Guilt,' Wind Talker said, his voice hoarse as he addressed the demon approaching them. 'Which bargains?'
'Many,' Jagged-Knives replied. 'Ancient and recent.'
'We don't have any ancient bargains,' Eyes said, confusion gnawing at him. 'We're a new pack.'
'There are ancient bargains that we all have to uphold, like the Danegeld,' Wind Talker said, a slight edge of scorn to his voice. Eyes glared at him for a moment but knew that this was not the time or place to address his attitude.
'They are not here to be judged,' Unchained Lightning boomed and Eyes glanced at him with uncertainty and appreciation in equal measure. 'They are here to seek clarification and came of their own free will.'
Jagged-Knives scowled and backed away slightly as the court erupted into shouts and jeers.
'It's true, your honour.' Eyes searched for the source of the soft voice. It was the shimmering woman, she was standing up and almost iridescent. 'They came willingly.'
'We did,' Claws called out, emitting his calming presence and authority. 'We have no wish to break any bargains and seek to clarify the matter so that we can rectify any wrongdoing and clear any unfounded charges.'
'That's right,' Eyes said, spurred on by his pack. 'We petition the court for a full body of evidence so that we can prepare a defence.'
'There are those who have reason to complain about your pack's conduct of late,' the judge stated. 'Those who claim to have collaborated with the Blue Moon in the past,'
'We are not the Blue Moon,' Eyes interrupted.
'You are a continuation of their line and must answer for their crimes, as well as your own.'
'I won't accept that,' Eyes said, his patience strained.
'We are not a complete continuation,' Claws said calmly. 'I was never a member of the Blue Moon, nor was our patron, Unchained Lightning. We make this pack a new, separate entity who happens to now claim some of the same territory as the previous pack.'
'They are the Blue Moon,' Jagged-Knives snapped. 'Half of the Blue Moon perished but half of them stand here today.'
The crowd erupted again in renewed shouts both for and against the Lightning Lords. Eyes tried to pick out the friendly voices in the crowd but the demo
ns and fae were in many cases so alien that it was impossible to read them. The shimmering woman was enigmatic, she had spoken up for them, but she was keeping her counsel now, watching calmly from her seat. 'The survivors of that pack must pay for the crimes of their fellows.' Jagged-Knives clicked his blades together ominously and paced the floor.
'I cannot ignore the fact that they have a new pack mate and patron,' the judge said calmly, drawing the crowd to order with his hypnotic voice.
'We are a unit,' Claws said. 'A balanced pack at that, blessed by Artemis herself. We cannot be separated out as former-Blue-Moon and never-Blue-Moon. We are simply the Lightning Lords. If you were to convict and punish my pack mates then you would also have to punish myself and Unchained Lightning, whom are undoubtedly innocent of any crime you care to find. You cannot punish the innocent or there is no justice.'
There was a ripple around the gathered audience, a murmur of agreement, even from those who had a moment ago opposed them so fiercely and Eyes allowed himself to hope.
'I accept your argument,' the judge said slowly and clearly. 'Let all of Hepethia know that the Lightning Lords are not the Blue Moon. They shall be judged independently from their predecessors and must make their own way in the world, free of the Blue Moon's debts but also their protections.'
There were cries and shouts from the crowd and Jagged-Knives looked ready to slit throats over the judgement. 'You will still be judged, though,' the judge finished.
Eyes narrowed his eyes and felt frustration pounding in his temples.
'Judged for what crime?' he called out over the din and the court fell quiet, all eyes upon him. 'I have made mistakes, I have done things that I wish I could undo and people that I love have been hurt. I feel responsible for the loss of my sires. I feel the guilt. I don't need a judge to find me guilty, I must bear my guilt myself every day. Those whom I have wronged may judge me.'
'Wrong!' bellowed the judge. 'I may judge you.' One of his arms lashed out and stretched across the space between them. At the end of the arm was a deformed hand with only three thick fingers and a piercing blue eye in the centre of the palm. The hand planted itself firmly on Eyes' forehead and sent searing pain through his head as the eye probed his memories. He stumbled and bent forward as the pain filled his veins. The hand remained fixed to his forehead.
His step-father's face came first, pale and splattered with blood and his mother's screams punctuated the memory. This was the man who had raised him and loved him as his own, dead because of Eyes. But then there was Fortune, whispering in his ear, telling him to get out and keep the others safe before being ripped to pieces and burned. Eyes' composure cracked and tears began to streak down his face. Fortune had sacrificed himself so that his son might live, the son he had been forced to leave as an infant, the son he hadn't seen again until the day he had shifted for the first time. Two fathers lost to the same foe.
The tentacle-like hand withdrew and the dark eyes inside the iron mask of the judge looked at Eyes shrewdly. 'Case dismissed,' the judge hissed.
Chapter Thirteen
Stalker-of-Night's-Shadow
The Lightning Lords hurried from the court before the judge changed his mind or Jagged-Knives took issue with the outcome. Unchained Lightning took off into the sky and the shifters made their way to the end of the hall where they had crossed over, right in front of the administration construct, who was still busily filing papers.
Wind Talker used his talisman to look across the veil and indicated that it was safe to cross. They arrived back in the Alpha's car, roughly deposited into their own seats. Stalker closed her eyes for a moment and ran over the events of the hearing in her mind. Something Eyes had said stuck out at her, about his “sires”, and the judge had evidently found something in his head to convince him to dismiss the case. She opened her eyes and observed him carefully. He looked exhausted as he sat in the driver's seat next to her, his eyes closed, catching his breath and running his hands through his hair, just like Fortune.
Stalker blinked and cocked her head as the cogs clicked into place. He had said “sires” in the courtroom, multiple fathers. She gasped in realisation and questions popped into her head and almost tumbled out of her mouth.
'Let's get out of here,' Claws said quietly, breaking the silence and preventing her from blurting out anything about Fortune.
'I know a place we can go to unwind,' Weaver said softly from the middle of the back seat. They set off, Eyes paying at the exit. It was nearly dark as they pulled out into the lit street. It had felt like they were in the Hundred Court for no more than half an hour but an entire day had passed.
'What was the name of that blue fae back there?' Stalker asked, twisting to face Wind Talker.
'Nicaea,' he replied. 'Some sort of Naiad, a water nymph.'
'I wonder why she spoke up for us.' Stalker sat straight in her seat and stared out of the front wind screen. No one replied.
Weaver directed Eyes north through St. Mark's towards Northgate. They turned off the main road onto a wide, leafy avenue of relatively new houses and Weaver instructed Eyes to park.
'Where are we going?' Stalker asked as they all climbed out of the car.
'You'll see,' Weaver replied with a grin. She led them up a narrow side street and took a sharp right up an alley that ran along the back of the terrace and came to a halt in the dark. She looked back and caught Stalker's eye, giving her a wink before stepping across the veil. Stalker glanced over her shoulder to check that the others were with them and then followed Weaver.
She emerged in a beautiful wood, with no houses to be seen. The half moon overhead shone through the tree branches, dappled silver moonlight covered the floor. The trees were covered in leaves and as Stalker looked more closely, she saw fruit on them.
'Wrong time of year for apples, isn't it?' she asked, her voice edged with curiosity.
'This is The Orchard, it's always autumn here, the fruit is always ripe.' Weaver smiled and led them along the narrow path between trees. They arrived in a small clearing with a wooden barrel in the centre, bathed in moonlight. The trees around them whispered in the wind and Stalker strained to hear what they were saying.
'I think we're supposed to pick the apples,' Wind Talker said softly, gazing around.
Weaver reached for the nearest low hanging branch and grasped one of the small apples. She glanced at the rest of the pack and Stalker gave her an encouraging nod, eager to see what would happen. Weaver tugged the apple and it came away from its branch easily. A sigh rippled around them and sweet music drifted into the clearing.
Stalker took an apple and the music grew a little louder. As the others picked more fruit the melody gradually filled the air, a merry jig urging them on. Stalker laughed and began picking the apples more quickly, tossing them into the barrel and the others followed her lead. She threw an apple to Weaver but she missed the catch and it fell to the floor with a soft thud and rolled over to the barrel. As Weaver stooped to pick it up she stopped and Stalker ran over to see that she was all right.
'Look,' Weaver said with wonder in her voice. Rising out of the ground around the base of the barrel were five wooden goblets.
Stalker picked up a goblet and stood up to peer into the barrel. The apples that they had thrown into it were gone and a shimmering pale liquid filled it instead. She grinned and scooped up the juice into her goblet. She took a big swig, expecting it to be apple juice but the sweet tang of alcohol met her tongue instead.
'It's cider,' she said after swallowing. The others eagerly filled their goblets and drank and the music around them picked up even more, pounding a relentless and infectious rhythm. Stalker moved to the music, a feeling of euphoria filling her body and mind. Weaver began to dance and Stalker grabbed her hand to dance with her. They burst into laughter and Stalker glanced at the men, who were watching with smiles. 'Come on!' she called. 'Join in!' She ran to Eyes, grasped his hand and dipped under their joined hands in a little spin. He laughed and started danc
ing, though with rather less grace than her or Weaver. Reluctantly, Claws and Wind Talker joined the dance too and the five of them formed a chain and danced around the clearing, weaving between the trees at the edges and filing past the barrel to refill their goblets every once in a while.
The music began to slow and the dance wound down as the shifters grew tired. Stalker dropped to the floor and lay down, staring up at the starlit sky; the ground was crisp and cool beneath her.
'Eyes,' Weaver said softly. 'What was that about in the court?'
Eyes sighed heavily and one by one the others sat in a loose circle. Stalker sat up and propped her heavy head on her hand. Her vision was a little fuzzy from the cider and she blinked to try and clear it.
'Fortune was my real father,' Eyes said quietly.
'Ha!' Stalker burst out, sitting abruptly to attention. 'I am not surprised!' Everyone ignored her, all attention on Eyes.
'The man in my kitchen was my step-father, he raised me from when I was a little boy. I never knew Fortune until the day I changed and he took me into the Blue Moon. After a few days he told me the truth.'
Stalker sobered a little. She thought of how fatherly Fortune had always been and how much that had mattered to her. It must have been amplified a thousand times for Eyes. She understood better now his intense need for vengeance.
The Orchard sighed and the music turned sombre.
'I think we're supposed to each share something personal,' Weaver whispered, looking around at the trees and up at the moon overhead.
'Claws,' Wind Talker spoke up quickly. 'Why haven't you embraced your inner beast?'
Stalker watched Claws carefully, she had a little understanding of his anthropocentric nature from their one-on-one chats but as far as she was aware, none of the others had talked to him about it. He took his time, choosing his words carefully.
'It took me a long time to get comfortable in my human skin. I grew up with self-esteem issues and had to work hard to overcome them. I was really only just happy with myself when I changed, so learning how to love myself again after such a massive change is just as difficult, if not more.' Claws took a long, slow drink of cider. No one spoke. Stalker wanted to say something reassuring, but was at a loss for words.
