by Swanson, Jay
“Merodach...” Keaton rubbed at his throat. “They were after.... Merodach.”
“I figured as much.” He shook his head. “It was only a matter of time. Glad he's finally dead; maybe we can pick up the pieces and make amends with Liscentia.”
“Not... dead.”
“What?!” Gredge turned on Keaton with almost vicious intent. “They didn't get him? All that and he's still alive up there?”
“We... we saved him.”
“Sometimes I wish your nose were at least a little dirty, Anders...” Gredge threw his head in the air and walked a small circle before coming back to Keaton. “What the hell were you thinking? The bastard has almost gotten both of us killed on numerous occasions. You especially! You know we're better off if he's dead!”
“Trial...” Keaton coughed heavily into his arm.
“Oh fantastic. A trial?! You don't think Merodach can weasel himself out of anything and everything he's done, Anders? He'll waltz right out of any courtroom and hang us both. Shit! Where is he? I'll go shoot him myself right now!”
Keaton simply shook his head and put his hand on Gredge's chest to stop him. “Trial.”
It didn't take long to arrange a trial for Merodach with Phelts waiting in the wings. The people seemed as eager to hang him as they had been to accept him back only weeks before. The fickle nature of the mob wasn't something new to Keaton, but it left him decidedly uncertain as to how events would unfold. He needed to put Merodach behind them all with finality, and soon.
Victory felt good. He had deposed Merodach, and soon they would put an end to him. A just end. The succession of murder and deceit was over. He spent his time familiarizing himself with what Merodach had been doing with the military as the trial was prepared. Merodach had put a lot into Liscentia's defeat, but he had shifted just as heavily in recent weeks to the rebuilding of the coastal defenses. That was something they could wrap up now, the threat of invasion soon to be avoided entirely. The trial weighed heavily on his mind, however, as he knew that if things didn't go perfectly, everything could wind up in worse shape than they had been in.
Gredge didn't believe things would go well at all and went about the city doing his best to ensure that public opinion of Merodach wouldn't be altered to swing back against them. Keaton had no idea how he intended to do so, but the old colonel had more connections than anyone in the military, and he could only hope he would succeed. Phelts stayed in seclusion with the rest of the government officials that had served under Merodach. But his position had only grown stronger as the man the Council had originally placed first in the line of succession had died in the Northern Tower when the Woads attacked. They let him be for now; Keaton didn't want their aims to appear too obvious too early, at least not until Merodach had been dispensed with.
In the meantime they reinstated the City Council to its rightful duties, granting them full control of internal state affairs and charging them to begin work on repairing the city. Gredge took on the mantle of the military for the second time in his career, and he was soon focused on forming a military tribunal to try Merodach, on which he placed himself, Keaton, and Major Dennan. Keaton urged him to sue for peace with Liscentia and Silverdale, but the old colonel was bent on seeing Merodach dead first.
“Liscentia's wading in its own piss, and Silverdale won't show up for a good while,” he would grumble. “Merodach is sitting under this very tower like some powder keg. Which do you think is the closer threat?”
The Council fought him tooth and nail on the entire thing, demanding a trial by jury but only winning an audience at the hearings. Gredge had initially wanted the entire thing to be held in secret, hoping to put Merodach silently out of everyone's misery and move on. Even Keaton couldn't stand behind him on that, and in the end the doors were opened to a limited public.
The entire process was expedited to a point that Keaton's head spun to think about it. There had been a number of elements in motion against Merodach that he hadn't even known of. Keaton's voice had completely left him, and while his throat still felt like it was constantly being crushed by some unyielding claw, he felt somewhat better. It would make his participation in the hearing that much more difficult, he knew, and the fact that he was on the verge of getting better made this last stretch all the more unbearable.
The date for the trial arrived only five days after his return to Elandir. Gredge chose an empty training room in the bombed-out City Guard barracks, drawing attention implicitly to the harm Merodach had caused during his time in office. The room itself was low and dark, with a high bench and table erected at the front for the tribunal to sit on, draped in the red and black stars and swords of Elandir. Merodach was dragged in unceremoniously and sat in a cage at the front of the room. Gredge's intention was to show how dangerous the man was, but it only made him look as dangerous as a caged walrus.
Keaton attempted to get Gredge to slow down, but the colonel hardly even waited for the attendees to arrive before he began his pontifications. The man would see Merodach dead this very day if he could have his way.
The list of Merodach's crimes went on for a while; the consequences of each action had indeed cost Elandir greatly either in lives or in security. The people in attendance nodded with each accusation, even as more and more people filled the room to watch the trial. Few of the accusations came as a shock to most, but Keaton could tell that the dots had never fully been connected for many of the people sitting in the room.
The Council members, however, knew every bit of what Gredge was laying before them. They had probably given him half of what he was now using. In spite of their disgust for the military trial, most of them wanted the same end result as Gredge.
The hum of people entering the room was steadily replaced with that of anger and disgust over Merodach's crimes. There were a few hundred people in the barracks now, and Anders could sense their thirst for justice growing. They had suffered significantly under Merodach, and most had never known just how futile that suffering had been.
“Finally, in connection with sending our country to war on false information and under false premises, you did so knowingly in collusion with our ancient and powerful enemy, the Relequim.”
This did shock most people in the courtroom, sending a wave of protest through them that caught Keaton off guard. Members of the council even began to stand and shout Gredge down, fearing that he was admitting evidence that would destroy their entire case. The legends of the Magi were not something on which to build a popular, let alone credible, prosecution. Merodach simply smiled in his cage, never breaking his stare with the bar directly in front of him.
“This link is undeniable!” Gredge shouted so loudly that every person in attendance was drawn back to silence. He threw an amulet on the floor in front of the bench, its red core still glowing gently as it spun to a stop on the cold stone. “This tool of the Relequim, among others, was found on his person and among his affects.”
Merodach was actually laughing now, silently enough at first that it went unnoticed until Gredge pulled out a second glowing trinket to show the crowd. The Mayor couldn't help but guffaw at the sight.
“What's so funny, Merodach?” Gredge spat the name. “I hear hanging hurts.”
It took Merodach a moment to calm down, waving his hand as if to permit the farce to continue.
“Well?” Gredge was waiting. “We've heard the charges against you, from which not a person in this room would exonerate you. What do you have to say for yourself?”
This was unlike Gredge, Keaton realized as he looked up at the man. Not so much in his response to the sleight, but in allowing Merodach to speak before his allotted time.
“Oh Gredge, my dear, dear colonel,” Merodach smiled as he folded his hands in his lap. “You're simply so... linear in your thinking.”
“I call it how I see it.”
“Or how you would like us to see it, Colonel.” Merodach leaned forward slightly to address the crowd. “As for the charges brought
against me, I find it rather amusing that you think yourselves just in your accusation.” He turned to look directly at Keaton as he shook his head sadly. “I find it far from amusing for you, however, Anders. I expected much more from the champion of Elandir.”
“Is that...” Keaton struggled to get the words out. “What you're calling... me... now?”
“Oh not me, Anders. The people at large. I fear you're showing your true colors by being a party to this plot. Ladies and gentlemen, let me submit to you my defense. For I am not the one who brought back such faulty intelligence as to lead us to war, but your sage hero, Anders Keaton, who collected that intelligence for us. Each member of this court, including your Council, wish me dead simply because I have either supplanted them or put their lives at risk. Purely out of necessity, mind you. It's my job to take such risks with the lives of others.”
“That's enough,” Gredge growled, now realizing his mistake.
“Do you find it strange that Anders Keaton, believed dead, arrives on the same night as this fateful attack that we presume comes from our distant enemy? Or that Gredge could so quickly find these amulets that one would presume I would take the utmost care to hide for fear of discovery? How does such a thing continue to even glow in the midst of our powerful MARD coated walls? It is fraudulent.”
“Enough, Merodach!”
“Just like these charges.”
“ENOUGH!” Gredge shouted.
“There's a reason your precious tribunal wishes this all to be over so quickly and secretly.” Merodach smiled. “They think their own allegiances will be kept much safer if it is.”
Gredge launched from his seat, rushing to the cage and pulling out his pistol. He shoved it at Merodach's temple as he shouted at him to shut up. Keaton jumped up to grab the colonel, the entire courtroom already thrown into disarray.
“I wouldn't assume myself to be so safe if I were you, Gredge.” Merodach smiled.
Keaton turned in time to see a gunman appear from the crowd. The man fired, and Gredge went down in a warm spray of blood. A woman screamed as Merodach laughed.
“Get Anders!” Someone shouted from the side as more gunmen appeared among the onlookers.
Merodach laughed again. “You can't have a coup and uphold the law at the same time, I'm afraid, Anders. They simply don't go well together.”
Another shot rang out as Keaton threw himself to the floor, the ricochet pinging against the bar behind where his head had been. More gunshots rang out as he heard Merodach shout for the Council to be executed. “Let this day stand as a lesson to traitors everywhere!”
Hands grabbed Keaton and hauled him up. He twisted to see who it was, but they shoved him off the back of the raised platform and through a door. Bullets struck the wall around them with loud cracks as they ran down the adjacent hallway.
“We have to get out of here, sir.”
“Saltman?” Keaton looked over his shoulder to find four of his Hunters in plain clothes running behind him. Two more were trailing behind, watching the rear.
“Sorry we didn't get you out sooner, sir.” Saltman shoved through a door and guided Keaton over to a vehicle waiting on a side street. “Everyone seemed so certain that Merodach was done for...”
“Who... was that?” Keaton said as he got in the car. He coughed and pulled at the collar of his formal uniform. “Gunmen.”
“Loyalists of some sort, sir. Men who either owe Merodach or stand to lose too much should he be replaced. Phelts sent word down just in time,” Saltman said as he started the car. “Who could be that loyal to that sack of crap though, only God knows.”
“Probably hired thugs too,” Grimes said from the back seat as the others piled in. “They came for us an hour ago, just after Phelts' messenger arrived. We got our guys out, but we had a hard time getting to you.”
“Merodach managed to get the whole barracks surrounded,” Saltman said as he pulled the car out and turned into traffic. As if to prove his point, Keaton noticed the corpse of a man hidden in the shadows at the corner of the barracks. “We've got to get out of here before Merodach takes control and shuts the city down.”
“God, what a mess...” Keaton couldn't help but think of Gredge on the floor, blood seeping out of the side of his head. “We should have... let the bastard die in his tower.”
“You were right to do what you did, sir.” Grimes patted him on the shoulder as they made for the eastern gate. “We'll just have to take the chance to pop him when we get it now.”
“That chance is gonna come at a high price, I'm afraid.” Saltman was trying to drive inconspicuously, but the streets through Elandir weren't made for cars, and Keaton could sense his growing anxiety. The fear of getting captured ate at him. Keaton put his hand on Saltman's elbow to get his attention, and looked unwaveringly at him when he finally dared glance back. Saltman nodded, exhaling audibly as he calmed himself.
“Where... the others?” Keaton would have killed to have his throat back. Even just the ability to speak into the chaos of the courtroom could have been enough to make some difference. His voice could have swung the day.
“They're making south now. They'll meet us at one of the old outposts.” Grimes said.
“Shit's really hit the fan though, hey?” Saltman forced a laugh. “No one to turn to now that we're branded traitors.”
“No one will believe that we're traitors.” Grimes dismissed the fear out of hand.
“Enough will...” Keaton actually agreed with Saltman's grim assessment. “We won't have friends.”
“Everyone knows Merodach is a liar! Who would believe him?”
“Not... about belief...”
“He's right,” Saltman picked up for him. “It's justification Merodach needs, that's all, whether or not the majority believe he's lying. If he can stand behind a column of loaded guns and tell them he did what was best for them, what can they do? We've just solidified his hold on Elandir...”
“He's right.” Keaton nodded as he swallowed. “It's now... dictatorship.”
“It's a good thing we haven't brought Phelts into the open yet,” Saltman continued with a quick exhale of relief. “Word has it Merodach sent goons around the city to execute the 'traitors' before anyone knew he was countering the coup.”
“East gate's ahead,” Grimes said as he sat back with a thump, his optimism greatly curbed. “Don't screw this up.”
“Where's the traffic gone?” Came another voice from the back.
“Just glad no one's injured, try explaining tha–” Saltman stopped speaking open-mouthed, staring straight ahead as they came within sight of the Eastern Gate. “I completely forgot!”
“What...” Keaton tried to ask.
“What is it?” Grimes sat forward.
“We blew the hinges on the Eastern Gate last week... it's still inoperable!”
As he said the words they drove into the square. The far half was filled with scaffolding and construction equipment, and off to their left stood a detail of soldiers who looked very much at the ready.
“Western battalion?” Saltman said as he saw them. “They shouldn't be within the gates in uniform!”
“Oh shit...” Grimes gaped at the soldiers. “Get us the hell out of here, Saltman!”
The lieutenant with the soldiers saw them then, the only car entering the square filled with men. The word must have gone out on the wireless by now. Some ran out to bar the road back out of the square while the others took a knee and raised their rifles.
“GET US OUT OF HERE, SALTMAN!” Grimes was already cocking his pistol.
Saltman swore, and they careened to the right as the bullets started ripping through the car.
NINETEEN
RAIN RENAULT SAT ON HER HORSE, WATCHING HER BROTHER'S ARMY MARCH BY LIKE A RIVER OF GLINTING STEEL. The trek north would take a long time, simply because of their sheer numbers. Her father had done well in raising this host and keeping it preserved against the Demon's various tricks and assaults over the years. From the v
arious outlying estates there were nearly thirty thousand soldiers in total, though the quality of the majority was a subject for debate.
Most of the cavalry had seen action of one sort or another, but much of the foot soldiers were farmers or craftsmen. Her father had mandated his tribunes to arm their populace and train the men to fight. Some had done so faithfully, while others brought columns of men with swords that were already rusting and who, presumably, maintained abilities to match.
It was a sight to make her sigh, knowing that they would constitute the weakest part of her brother's lines. Even worse, many better men would die because their masters' faithful training would necessitate they be put at the front from the start. The best men in the realm would stand the greatest chance of dying, all because of the laziness and greed of a few minor lords whose men would suffer the same fate should their turn to fight arise.
And what fate had her men met? What had become of Ardin? The thought was never far from her mind, bringing her close to despair should she dwell on it for long. The responsibility to her men had been outweighed, of that she was certain, but to what end? She had abandoned them to help Ardin, and what had he even been able to accomplish? If he was dead, then so were their hopes, and she refused to think about it whenever she could help it.
Her brother sat off to her left, surrounded by couriers on horse who gave or took their messages and departed accordingly. The pomp and circumstance of the days before were nearly lost on them now, for which Rain was grateful. Gauging by his posture, Rendin was glad for it too. He looked far more comfortable commanding soldiers than the affections of the nobility. It was his eventual plan to strip the nobility of their lands and put governors in their stead. Their father had removed their complicated system of titles in his early days as king and had begun to call them his “tribunes.” This was partially to remind them that they owed him tribute, but also to emphasize the importance of their military contributions. It was the only reason he tolerated them at all.
