by Edward Brody
We only had to walk down one long hall before we entered a massive chamber with a red carpet running down the center of its length. On either side of the carpet were rows of empty bleachers, and at the end of the carpet and raised two small steps up was a large area where a massive gold and velvet throne rose. On either side of the throne were two smaller velvet thrones, and in each one was one of the two women I had seen the King with before.
Immediately in front of the center throne was the King, sitting defiantly in his wheelchair, and standing beside him was a man with long gray and black hair. The man wore a black robe with a blue sash thrown over his shoulder, and he had a long bear that matched his hair. On either side of the entourage, four guards were standing, all holding long spears. Below the raised platform and to the sides of the red carpet were two more guards who held swords and shields.
The prison guards marched us forward until we were standing on the carpet, twenty or so meters in front of the thrones. “Kneel before the King,” one of them said.
Jeremy and I both carefully lowered ourselves until we were on both knees.
“This is ridiculous,” Jeremy whispered.
“Shh,” I warned low.
The bearded man with the sash stepped forward, holding a parchment in his hands. “We have a witness?” he asked.
One of the guards behind me cleared his voice. “She’s on her way.”
As if on cue, a large door—the entrance to the castle, I presumed—creaked open, and the chubby woman who had first pointed us out in the Arena appeared. A guard led her straight down the long carpet until she was almost right beside us and in front of the King.
“She’s the only witness, correct?” the man in the robe asked.
The King and the presumed Queen said nothing, but I noticed the younger lady beside the King breathing rather heavily, and her eyes were burning a hole into me.
“She’s the only witness,” the guard confirmed.
“Your highness?” the robed man queried.
“We may proceed,” the King said in a raspy voice.
The robed man looked at us and frowned. “State your names, please.”
I cleared my throat. “Gunnar Long.”
“Jeremy Cole.”
“Very well,” the robed man said. “You’re both standing trial for the murder of one noble—third cousin to the King, once removed—Percy Clearheart. How do you plead?”
“Screw that,” Jeremy said. “I don’t know who or what you’re talking about.”
I shook my head. “We’re innocent. We haven’t killed anyone.”
The robed man pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. “Both accused have pleaded innocent. Please bring forth our witness.”
The chubby woman stepped forward and immediately kneeled. “I’m so honored to be in your presence, your highness.”
The King didn’t acknowledge her.
“Please tell us what you saw, Ms…” the robed man trailed.
“Mrs. Smith,” the woman said with a nod. “I was traveling about a mile away from my home in the Freelands, gathering herbs, when I ascended a hill and noticed a man lying on the grass from afar. At first, I thought he was drunk or had slipped and fell, but no more than a moment later, another man came running towards him. He approached cautiously, but within seconds, he was pulling off the man’s armor and putting it on his own body. He took everything from the man’s bag, stripped him nude, and without his armor on, I could see blood. It wasn’t much blood, but enough to see that someone had hurt him.”
“And do you know who the killer was, Mrs. Smith?” the robed man asked.
The woman swallowed and nodded before turning towards Jeremy and pointing her finger. “It was him. I’m sure of it.”
Jeremy’s jaw was wide as the pieces started fitting together in his head. He was getting accused of murdering the dead guy that he had stolen the Heritage Armor from. “I didn’t kill him!” Jeremy blurted out.
“Please be quiet, sir,” the robed man said. “You may only speak when you’re spoken to.” He cleared his throat. “And did you recognize the armor that the deceased were wearing?”
The lady nodded, turned to me, and pointed her finger. “He’s wearing the armor now. I’m certain of it.”
“Shit,” I whispered as low as possible. I finally knew why I had been brought to the prison, and the woman’s testimony, coupled with the fact that I was wearing the evidence in question, was damning. They thought I must’ve had something to do with the man’s death because of my gear. Why else would Jeremy give it to me?
“Thank you, Mrs. Smith,” the robed man said. He turned his gaze back on Jeremy and me. “Now that you’ve heard the witness, do you wish to change your plea?”
“No!” Jeremy shouted. “I didn’t kill anyone. I was just grinding in the Freelands and—”
“Excuse me,” the robed man interrupted. “Please clarify the term ‘grinding’.”
Jeremy rattled his head and sighed. “I was killing things… I mean… killing animals not people! I was killing stuff in the Freelands when the guy with the armor came by and went into a cave. When he came out, he died. I took his loot, but I wasn’t responsible for his death.”
“You expect us to believe that Percy Clearheart—an extremely skilled fighter—was injured in a cave and just wandered out and died in front of you?” the robed man asked.
“That’s what happened! I swear!” Jeremy shouted.
“And I suspect you found vials of venom on Percy’s body?” the robed man asked. “What did you do with them?”
“I sold them…” Jeremy said.
“Sold them where?” the man continued.
“I don’t remember,” Jeremy said. “I sold a lot of things—everything he had on him to random vendors around here.”
The man frowned and exchanged disappointed glances with the King before turning to me. “And how did you come to wear Percy’s armor?”
I wiggled my hands behind me, trying to adjust the position of my wrists in the shackles so they weren’t so uncomfortable. “I killed… umm… “ I struggled for words, knowing that I couldn’t tell them that I had killed Jeremy or that would expose us as Reborns, but at the same time, not having any other lie on the tip of my tongue that would make the situation look better. Finally, I blurted, “He gave it to me! We’re guild mates, so he gave it to me.”
“Do you need further testimony, your highness?” the robed man asked.
The King leaned his head down and pressed his thumb and index finger to his forehead. “Not necessary,” he rasped. “Execute them both.”
“What!?” Jeremy yelled.
“No! Wait!” I shouted.
The guards grabbed us by the shoulders and started to pull us off the ground.
My head was spinning, as a thousand thoughts rushed through my brain. The trial had ended much faster than I expected, and I didn’t get an opportunity to say anything about the Bloodletters. Not only that, but they were going to execute us for a crime we didn’t commit? I had no idea what to do.
“Stop!” the young woman in the chair beside the King ordered, and the guards suddenly froze while everyone turned to her. There was a long few seconds of silence where everyone waited for her to say something. “Don’t execute this man, father. He saved my life.”
The King’s head turned back towards Jeremy and I, and then again to his daughter. “Which one?”
“The one wearing the armor.”
The King shook his head and snarled his lips. “Saved you? Saved you how?”
The Princess held a fist up to her lips and pressed her face hard into it. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but a few weeks ago, I was traveling to Thorpes to—“
“You went to see that boy again, didn’t you!” the Queen snapped.
The Princess lowered her head and looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Yes, I was going to see him, but—”
“What happened?” the King snapped.
“The caravan I wa
s riding was attacked by four men. The men hurt the driver and my escorts, and then proceeded to attack me.”
The King turned to the Queen and huffed.
“You didn’t take any Highcastle soldiers with you?” the Queen asked.
“I couldn’t,” the Princess said. “I know any soldier would have told you where I was going. I hired a few commoners to accompany me.”
“How dangerous, Isabella!” the Queen snapped. “We forbade you to see that boy, yet you snuck out of the castle anyway! And you thought commoners could protect you? This is unacceptable!”
The Princess nodded. “I accept my mistakes, but I wasn’t hurt, because of the man who’s kneeling before you now. He provoked all four of the men and led them away from my caravan so that I could run away.”
The King turned to me. “Is that true?”
I nodded as I remembered the time when I saw Ozzy and the three thugs attacking a caravan on the side of the road on my way towards Addenfall. I knew that I had recognized the Princess from somewhere, but until she recounted the tale, I couldn’t recall where.
“Please grant him a pardon, father,” the Princess said. “It’s only fair.”
The King raised a hand and gave a slight nod. It looked like he was about to say something until the robed man interrupted.
“When he was captured, he was found to have kroka in his bag,” the robed man blurted.
The King’s head sloped to the side, and I saw him inhale sharply, gradually shaking his head.
“There’s more, my lord,” the robed man said. He lifted the papers he was holding up and started flipping them one-by-one. “This other character—Mr. Cole—seems to be quite the criminal as well. Someone matching his exact description has been reported for burglary of a home, burglary of a home again, failure to pay in a weapons shop, pickpocketing, snooping, sleeping in an inn without payment, burglary of another home, another pickpocketing accusation, stealing from a food cart, another pickpocketing…” He sighed. “The list continues, my lord.”
I turned to Jeremy and frowned. I had a bad feeling I was making a mistake when I let him join the guild, and there I was, shackled with my arms behind my back and being prosecuted by the King of Highcastle all because of him. He was a thief, and his crimes were coming back to haunt him. Now I was being dragged down by association.
The King exhaled hard. “Two murderers—a thief and a kroka user. I cannot let this pass. Execute them both.”
“Father!” the Princess yelped.
“Please!” Jeremy sputtered as the guards started grabbing us again. “Just let me explain my side of the story!”
A guard shoved Jeremy’s head hard—a reminder that he shouldn’t speak unless he’s spoken too.
“Listen to us!” I yelled.
“You’re hereby sentenced to—” the robed man started but was quickly cut off.
“Go ahead and let them speak,” the King said, holding up his hand. “If he saved the princes, I suppose I can at least give them both time to explain their story.”
Jeremy raised his head up and looked at the King with pleading eyes. “I saw the guy… I mean, I saw Percy walk into the cave. I had no idea what he was doing, and I just followed him into the cave. He killed these giant snakes—lots of them. He fought masterfully, but soon after he entered the cave, a monster snake came out of nowhere and bit his arm. I ran, and a few minutes later, Percy came stumbling out. He looked sick and died as I watched.”
“You did nothing?” the robed man asked.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Jeremy said. “I’m not a healer or anything.”
“Monster snake?” the King asked. He glared at the Queen out of the corner of his eyes.
“Huge,” Jeremy insisted. “Twenty-feet tall, maybe thirty. Its fangs pierced right through his armor.”
The King creased his brow and turned to the robed man. “Giant snakes in these parts wouldn’t be able to pierce his heritage armor.”
“Are you certain it was a snake?” the Queen asked.
Jeremy shrugged. “I can only assume. Its head looked like a snake, and it had a rattler the size of my body.”
Again, the King turned to the Queen. “You don’t think it could be…?”
“The great serpent, Shashana,” the Queen said pointedly, her eyes staring over our heads.
“It can’t be…” the robed man said.
“It could be,” the King countered.
“And what if it was, father?” the Princess asked. “Maybe that could be the answer we’ve been searching for!”
“Shashana hasn’t been seen since the Wastelands were destroyed,” the robed man said. “I’m certain it’s something else.”
“But there could be a chance!” the Princess shouted. “If there’s a chance, we have to find out!”
I watched as the nobles chatted amongst themselves regarding ‘Shashana’—whatever that was—and the intensity of the situation had changed. It was if they suddenly believed Jeremy, or were at least hopeful that he was telling the truth. Whatever they were thinking, it seemed like the best chance I’d have to interject, before things escalated to talks of execution again.
“Your highness,” I interjected.
Everyone quieted, and all eyes turned to me.
“I have information that could be of dire importance to Highcastle.”
The robed man snapped his lips. “If you think you’re going to trade information to avoid punishment for your crimes, you better think again.”
“Let him speak,” the King said weakly.
“It’s information about your son…” I said.
“My son?” the King asked.
Both the Princess and the Queen shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
I was about to speak when the King held his hand up and bobbed his head a little to stop me. “I suppose you’re about to tell me that you have reason to believe that the Dark Hand is my son, and you’d like to help bring him to justice in exchange for a pardon.”
“Pfft,” the robed man spat. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
“This isn’t about the Dark Hand,” I said, “at least primarily it’s not about him. It’s about another son of yours… one who is living in the Endless Sands.”
An awkward silence hung in the air, and King Rutherford’s face turned blank as he slowly lowered his hand back to his chair. The Queen frowned and turned towards the King, and the Princess swallowed hard. It looked like she wanted to run away.
“Guards, take your leave,” the King said. “Take the witness with you.”
The guards behind me removed his hand from my shoulder and shifted as if he wasn’t sure what he was hearing. Most of the other guards looked hesitant as well.
“All of you!” the King yelled as loudly as he could in his raspy, weak voice.
“Your highness!” the robed man protested. “What if they—?”
“All guards take your leave, and you’ll be summoned again when you’re ready!” the King insisted.
The guards all perked up. Half slipped away to rooms deeper into the castle and the others exited out the front door.
When it was just Jeremy, me, the King’s family, and the robed man, the King finally asked, “How do you know about my other son?”
“An agent of his,” I said. “He betrayed Dryden and told me what he knew in exchange for my help. He told the Dark Hand as well.”
The King clenched his teeth.
“Of course, Cristo would eventually find out,” the Queen hissed. “It’s not like you could hide it from him forever.”
“That’s not the issue,” I said. “The issue is that Dryden is plotting to sail across the Serpent Sea and take Highcastle.”
“He’s planning to attack Highcastle?” the robed man asked. “How foolish.”
I shook my head. “No, he’s not going to attack Highcastle. He’s waiting for the King to die, so he can attack the Sparrows, kill the Dark Hand, and claim his right to the throne.”
The King looked down to the floor with somber eyes.
“You should’ve known this would happen, Owen!” the Queen snapped. “You couldn’t keep your filthy cock in your pants, and now another one of your children will die because of it—who knows how many others in the process.”
There was another long silence before the King slowly raised his head. “Indeed, I knew Dryden would cross the sea again one day and to claim his right to the crown. But he doesn’t have to kill Cristo in order to do so. As my eldest son, the throne is his right, so long as the people choose.”
“He doesn’t only want the throne of Highcastle, your highness.” I took a deep breath. “He wants to merge the Bloodletters with the Highcastle army and take over the forests, the Wastelands, everywhere. And not just this side of the Serpent Sea. He wants to take over all of Eden’s Gate! He wants everyone to serve under him. He wants to kill the Dark Hand because he doesn’t want anyone challenging him.”
The Queen snickered. “The bastard is ambitious.”
“King Rutherford,” I pleaded. “Dryden is a monster who slaughters his own men if they disobey. He butchers people and paints his lawn with their remains. He holds women captive in his harem!”
“So I’ve heard,” the King said. “They say the Bloodletters are ruthless, but what are you asking me to do?”
I creased my brow, surprised at the question. “Take out Dryden before he can cross the Serpent Sea.”
There was another pause before the King gave a weak smile. “I just ordered your execution, and now you’re sitting here in front of me, asking me to march on my own son? Have you gone mad?”
“No,” I said. “It’s just that—“
“Even if Dryden were to claim the throne and combine the Highcastle army and the Bloodletters,” the King interrupted, “it’s an absurd idea that he could conquer all of Eden’s Gate. The other races wouldn’t allow it. Strong, he would be, but he’d soon learn his place.”
