"I have no more questions, My Lord."
"Defense, you may cross examine."
"Sir, did you or any members of the guard or household suffer any serious injury?"
"No, My Lord."
"Thank you, no more questions."
"Prosecutor, call your next witness."
"The prosecution calls no more witnesses at this time, My Lord."
"Defense counsel, you may call your witnesses at this time."
"Thank you, My Lord. Defense calls Miss Appleton to the stand." The attractive barmaid took a seat in the witness chair. "Miss Appleton, you were the first to speak with my clients regarding Lord Preston. What did you tell them?"
"I told them that Lord Preston was an evil man who oppressed his people with outrageous taxes, worked them like slaves, and held them against their will."
"Objection, My Lord, the court has already established that Lord Preston acted within his rights to levy taxes, indenture debtors, and punish any violation of the law."
"Overruled, counselor, Miss Appleton is merely stating what was said not establishing legalities."
"You also stated that you believed he practiced evil magic and has lived an unnaturally long life," Lord Tarsley continued.
"Aye, m'lord, he has been laird of Duskshire as long as anyone can remember."
"Very well, I have no more questions," Lord Tarsley said.
Lord Highworth called the prosecutor to rebut the witness.
"Ms. Appleton, how old are you?"
"I'm twenty and three, m'lord."
"Lord Preston is seventy-four years old and has been laird for forty-three of them. Do you think that that may be why he is the only laird you and most all of your friends ever recall?"
"Um, aye, I suppose that makes sense, m’lord."
"No more questions, My Lord."
"Counselor, your next witness."
"I call Mrs. Tatum to the stand, My Lord."
The old crone from the inn shambled up to the witness stand holding her head as if she were royalty herself.
"Mrs. Tatum, you told my clients that you knew of several people, including children, who have disappeared and that you believe Lord Preston was involved."
"Aye, I know for certain he done took them. He took my boy, Percy, and my friend Shandra's boy!"
The assembled onlookers started to mumble amongst themselves.
"You also claim that he is a vampire."
"Aye, he dresses all in black all the time and never comes out during the day."
"Interesting, you also recall that many years ago that he had a wife and child, but they disappeared around the same time that he cloistered himself within his manor and that screams were heard emanating from the house at the time of their disappearance. Is that so, Mrs. Tatum?"
"Aye, it was a horrible sound. I was delivering fresh fruit to the mansion that day, and I heard the most awful shrieking. I dropped my wheelbarrow and ran for all I was worth. I never saw neither wife nor child after that day."
"And it was because of this that you and many of the people of Duskshire begged my clients to intervene on your behalf. Is that right?"
"Aye, m'lord, that's true. All know what an evil man the laird is."
"Thank you, Mrs. Tatum, I have no more questions."
"Prosecution, your witness."
"My Lord I have no questions for Mrs. Tatum. However, I would like to call two other witnesses in order to refute her testimony," the young prosecutor requested.
"I will allow it. Call your witnesses."
"My Lord, I call Mr. Tatum to the stand."
An old man hobbled to the stand bent over a crutch and took a seat.
"Mr. Tatum, do you know where your son is?"
"Of course I do. He got married and took work in Wrenwood, m'lord."
The subdued voices got a little louder.
"Can you prove that he is alive and well, Mr. Tatum?"
"Aye, he's standing right back there," the crowd burst into a dull cacophony of voices. "We rode in together, dear," the old man patiently explained, looking at his wife.
"How the hells do you forget your own son?" Maude demanded of the crone, jumping up from her seat.
"Well, he been gone a long time!" Mrs. Tatum shouted back.
"He comes and visits us every winter and spring festival, dear," Mr. Tatum tried to explain over the vociferous voices of the assembled crowd.
"Quiet, I will have order!" Lord Highworth commanded.
"Mr. Tatum, do you know the other boy your wife referred to as having gone missing?" the prosecutor asked.
"Aye, I do, m'lord."
"And what happened to him?"
"He took to the sea as a sailor out of Southport some thirty years ago m'lord. Got his own ship now I hear his mother say."
"Thank you, sir, I have no more questions," the prosecutor said over the increasing murmuring of voices.
Maude glared at the old crone sitting near the back of the room with murder in her eyes. Borik just sat with his large head shaking in his stubby-fingered hands. Malek prayed to his god for deliverance while Tarth nit-picked the terrible fashion sense of most of those in attendance.
"My Lord, I would now like to call Lord Preston back to the stand."
The old laird returned to stand and took his seat once again.
"Lord Preston, I am almost afraid to ask this, but did you indeed have a wife and son those many years ago?"
"Aye, I did," the lord side quietly.
"Will you please tell us what happened to them?"
"It was a few years after I had been confirmed as laird. My beautiful wife and son had traveled here to Brightridge to visit her mother. On their return trip, bandits waylaid their carriage. Her, my son, and all six men at arms were slain. When I heard of what had happened to them I was distraught beyond reason. I screamed in anguish for the better part of that day, dressed in black, and have been in mourning ever since, hardly able to bear to leave my manor for nearly forty years. My wife and I shared the bed those beasts burned!" the heartbroken laird wailed and buried his face in his hands and wept.
"You thrice-damned lying sow, I'll cut your liver out!" Maude jumped up ranting in uncontrolled fury. "If they hang me today, I swear I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you till the day you die! Then I'll chase your departed spirit to the six hells where you must surely be sent and take great pleasure in ripping your guts out and making you eat them every day for all eternity!"
A thunder of voices erupted throughout the courtroom as the gathered crowd responded to the horror to which the poor laird had been subjected and Maude’s murderous outburst.
"Order, order in my court! One more outburst from you, my lady, and I will clear this court and render my verdict!" Lord Highworth shouted above the tumult, banging his gavel until the handle broke.
Guards finally brought order to the pandemonium. It took three large men to pull Maude's hands from around the old crone's lying throat.
"Prosecution, do you have any more witnesses to call?" Lord Highworth asked.
"No, My Lord, the prosecution rests."
"Defense counsel, have you any further arguments?"
"No, My Lord, the defense rests."
"Is there anything that the defendants wish the court to consider before I retire to deliberate my findings?"
A hush fell over the crowd as the adventurers looked at each other. Tarth finally stood up, cleared his throat, his eyes sharp, and focused for once, the timeless wisdom of several centuries of long life plain on his sharp, elven features. The assembled crowd held its collective breath, straining to hear the soft-spoken, near mystical being.
"My Lord, I would like you to consider just one thing when you pass judgment upon us," the elf asked in regal dignity. He looked to each of his companions in turn who gave him a slight nod of the head, knowing that his words may well be the only thing between them and a shameful execution. "I beg of you, please use a silk rope when you hang me. I fear hemp will chafe someth
ing awful."
"Stupid, bird-brained, daft elf! No wonder your kind is damned near extinct!" Borik shouted and lunged for the lithe elf's delicate throat. "I'll chafe your damned throat! I'll chafe it till my fingertips touch each other!"
"Control that dwarf! I shall retire to my chambers to deliberate. Escort the prisoners to their cells."
As the guards led the adventurers back to their cells, they were certain in the knowledge that their execution was imminent. It wasn’t death Maude found so bitter, it was the failure. They each had their own reasons for following their foolish pursuits, but only Maude felt that hers were the most honest. All she wanted since she was a little girl was to be remembered. Death was preferable to the anonymity she saw in almost every face she passed. Her entire life was a lie.
"Stupid, thrice-damned peasants, I should have known better!" Maude raged, kicking over their water bucket and throwing straw about the small cell.
Other than Maude's ranting, no one said anything to each other. A little over an hour later, they heard someone unlocking the door to their cells. Several guards escorted them out of the dungeon and up to the large magistrate building. It soon became apparent that the guards were not leading them back to the courtroom.
"You taking us straight to the gallows are you?” Borik asked without receiving a reply from the guards.
The guards deposited them in a smaller chamber and told them to wait. It was the better part of an hour before anyone else entered the room. A tall man strode in, dressed in fine clothing of silks and well-spun cotton. A signet ring adorned one finger, and a great gold chain of office encircled his neck. He had auburn hair that fell just short of his collar. A beard cut to about an inch in length covered his strong jaw. The guards inside the room snapped to attention as the stranger entered before taking positions outside.
"Good afternoon. I am Jarvin Ollander. I trust you have heard of me," the king of all Valeria stated.
"Of course, Your Majesty, please forgive us for not recognizing you. We did not expect such auspicious company, Your Majesty," Malek said diplomatically and dropped to one knee.
"Please, sit back down, all of you. I attended today's fiasco they call a trial. You are an unusual group of people, I must confess. Unorthodox to be certain but effective in your own way, and I feel that perhaps something unorthodox is precisely what I need."
The King paused and studied the ragtag group before him for a moment. Maude and her crew sat in silence trying to figure out what the King could possibly want with them.
"In a few minutes, Lord Highworth is going to summon you back to the courtroom and sentence you to hang," the King informed them without a hint of doubt in his voice. "However, I have persuaded him to allow me to offer you an alternative. I have need of special people with special abilities to help me locate a valuable treasure. You may die in the attempt. In fact, odds are you will almost certainly die. I have lost two score and more of my own special guard on this quest, but considering your alternative, I suggest you take the opportunity I grant you."
"Of course we will, Your Majesty! It will be our pleasure and honor to serve you!" Maude insisted, knowing that an infinitesimal chance at living beyond tomorrow was better than none at all.
"You will still be required to pay restitution for all the damage you caused as well as making a personal apology to Lord Preston."
"Of course, we fully accept and wish to give our most heartfelt and sincere apologies to Lord Preston," Malek gushed.
"Apologies?" Maude whimpered, almost choking on the word.
"Yes, Maude, time for you to fight your greatest foe, your own pride!" Malek snapped.
"Very well, we accept," Maude said, conceding defeat.
“Excellent. I will order your release and let Bishop Caalendor explain your mission so that you may begin working off your debt immediately.”
A pair of guards escorted the odd group from the room to collect their belongings. As soon as the King was alone, Magus Illifan stepped out from behind a thick curtain and spoke to Jarvin.
"Majesty, are you certain this is the bunch in which you want to place such awesome responsibility?"
Jarvin smiled at his advisor. "They are certainly an odd group, but they seem highly resourceful. To be honest, I expect little more from them than to distract my enemies. However, the fates often have a strange sort of humor. It may be that these misfits can succeed where my most intelligent and competent assets have failed. It is their seemingly incompetent appearance that may allow them to be disregarded by those who oppose me and actually succeed."
The elder magus sighed and shook his head. "I pray you are right, Majesty, but I have my reservations believing that even the fates can be that strange.
***
King Jarvin had the party’s horses and property returned to them, minus everything they had plundered from Lord Preston's manor, and they departed Brightridge with the King and his contingent of soldiers.
"Well, we managed to survive another seemingly inescapable situation," Malek said cheerfully as they rode with the King's guard on their way to Brelland.
"Yes, but I fear what we may face next may make us wish we had chosen the gallows," Maude said, taking a dark outlook on their future.
***
Ellyssa sat under the piercing glare of her master. Azerick paced back and forth, putting his thoughts in order while his apprentice stewed miserably in her seat. When he had first taken her in, he thought he had a bright but shy little girl. That façade crumbled as she became comfortable with him and her new surroundings. She was certainly bright, but she was about as shy as a thunderstorm. Precocious did not begin to describe her character.
Azerick stopped his pacing and faced his young pupil. “Tell me what you did wrong.”
Ellyssa though for a moment then answered. “I mixed up the sigil for ice with fire,” she answered with a nervous grin.
Azerick did not return her smile. “Try again.”
“I used magic without you being present.”
“And…”
“And I set a tree on fire.”
“And…” Azerick prompted again.
“I made Wolf clean. But he needed it, he was filthy like always and he smelled bad and he teased me so he deserved it!”
Azerick shook his head. “No, but close. You let your temper rule your actions. You reacted out of anger, not out of need or with wisdom. Do you see that now?”
“Yes, Master Azerick.”
She only replied with his title when she knew he was cross with her and she was in trouble, otherwise neither one of them bothered with the honorific.
“You are restricted to the tower for one week, and you will write the ten fundamentals of wizardry twenty times, and you will do it on your own time, not during class.”
Ellyssa’s face turned red. “I’m grounded for a week and I have to write the fundamentals? That’s not fair!”
“Perhaps you are right,” Azerick agreed and thought about the punishment. “The punishment is a bit unbalanced considering the full potential for disaster. You will also help Grick catch rats for the next two weeks seeing as you have an overabundance of time and energy.”
“Catch rats! I hate rats, and who in the burning abyss is Grick?”
“Watch your language, young lady, or it will be a month, and Grick is the goblin I hired earlier today to take care of our rat problem.”
“I can’t believe you are going to make me hunt rats, and with a goblin. That is so gross.”
Azerick glared down at his protégé. “It took every man I had working on the keep the rest of the day to put out the fire you started. Would you like to go and talk to those men about what is fair?”
Ellyssa shook her head.
“Most of them advised me to take a strap to you. That is what they thought would be fair.”
“Fine, I’ll hunt stupid rats with the stupid goblin, but if he eats me you’ll be sorry!”
“Perhaps in time, but not right at this mome
nt,” Azerick replied, eliciting a gasp of shock from his pupil.
Azerick introduced Ellyssa to the rat catcher just after dinner. Ellyssa did not attempt to hide her disgust as she sat across the table from the goblin as they ate. Azerick explained that she was to follow Grick around for two hours each night for the next two weeks. Grick led the girl down the stairs and into the basement level.
They stopped at the foot of the stairs where Grick handed her a lit oil lamp and a wooden rod about three feet long.
“What’s the stick for?” Ellyssa asked brusquely.
“It for whacking rats,” he said, giving the ground a good smack in demonstration.
“Ew gross, I’m not going to hit a rat with a stick!”
“You rather stomp on rats, maybe ruin pretty shoes?” Grick asked.
“Fine, I’ll use the stick, but you better not try to eat me. I’m a wizard too you know.”
“Pfft, you no wizard, you little girl, read books, set tree on fire.”
“How’d you know about the tree?” Ellyssa demanded.
“People talk, Grick listen. Nobody pays attention to little goblins.”
“You still better watch out. If I can set a tree on fire, you bet I can set a goblin on fire too, so you just better not try anything or else!”
“I not eat rotten little girls. Too stringy and meat probably sour.”
“I bet I taste better than a smelly little goblin! Girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. What are goblins made out of, dead skunks and gopher guts?”
“Goblins made out of rotten little children who don’t behave. A woods fairy fly through window, make you sleep with magic, then bury you under rotten tree stump where you wake up as goblin,” Grick told her seriously.
“Nuh-uh, you just made that up.”
Grick shook his head. “No, it true. Why you think goblins live in holes in ground. Grick was little boy right here in North Haven. He never did chores or what parents told him and always talked back. One day, he throw horse dung at rich lady in white dress for fun. Grick run fast so no get caught, but woods fairy know and takes him away that night. He say he was sorry but it too late,” Grick finished with a sniffle.
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 74
