by A. J. Smith
“I am sorry for your loss,” said Marius, glancing at me, but keeping his focus on the street outside. “I suppose we’ll have to continue our conversation another time. Alexis Wind Claw has decided to act.”
David Falcon’s Fang strode across the empty entranceway to stand next to me. He handed me my sword belt before speaking. “Your highness, void legionnaires approach. News of your father’s death has been shouted through the streets.”
“You’ve been gone over an hour,” added Marius.
I said nothing as I belted Zephyr back onto my hip. Jack moved to the door and cracked it an inch, allowing my two attendants and I to look down the steps and out into the wide, sunlit street. The twenty knights of Falcon’s Watch stood in two columns, facing outwards, with their greatswords held point down to the stone cobbles. It was a tense wait, as the echoing sound of marching warriors got louder and louder.
“Err, highness,” stuttered David, pointing back to the carpeted room. “It appears the Dark Brethren have both left.”
My eyes shot to the right, and Silver Jack swore. Marius Cyclone and the unnamed woman had both disappeared, likely fleeing into the void before the legionnaires arrived. It was probably a sensible move on their behalf, but did nothing to alleviate Jack’s suspicions.
“Before you suggest it,” I said, “no, I don’t think the Stranger has set us up.”
“So why leave?” countered Jack. “These are his people.” He pointed out of the door, to where black armour was just becoming visible, moving between large houses.
“Not according to him,” I replied.
“Shall we flee, highness?” asked David. “Into the void, or perhaps a back way out of the house?”
I opened the door a little wider, and was met by Leofryc Bright Hand. Before, I could say anything, the commander of Falcon’s Watch had taken a knee in doorway. “My king,” he said, bowing his head. “I cannot speak to the honour of the approaching legionnaires. Perhaps you should stay in the house and let me deal with them. Your safety is paramount.”
The space between lines of old stone buildings was wide, creating an open square outside the Stranger’s house. Then, from several angles at once, black-armoured void legionnaires filled the square. They marched slowly, in narrow columns, with shields held close, and long spears sounding a rhythmic note on the cobbled street. Falcon’s Watch barely reacted, as close to a hundred Brethren came to a stop opposite them. There were more in the adjoining streets, as if whoever commanded couldn’t decide how many warriors to send.
Leofryc stood and returned to his men, drawing his own greatsword. Jack pulled the door half closed, and I once again felt as if a huge weight was strapped to my back.
“If this turns nasty, we’re going to the void,” said Jack, speaking quickly again.
Then, from the column of legionnaires, came two people. One wore a blue robe, identifying her as an envoy. The other wore similar black armour to his warriors, but went without a helmet, and had a belted straight sword rather than a spear.
“Noble Winterlord warriors,” shouted the armoured man. “I am Yanos Wolf Bane, commander of the tenth void legion. We are not here as enemies.”
“Then why are you here?” responded Leofryc.
The woman was Marianne Death Spell, one of the Dark Brethren envoys. She took a moment to say something to the commander, before making her way through the legionnaires. She didn’t break the last line of warriors, but stopped close enough to Leofryc that she didn’t have to shout.
“My lord Bright Hand,” she said, with a flourish of her arms. “With the death of King Christophe Dawn Claw, the envoys have decided that Marius Cyclone should be taken into custody, and that Prince Oliver should be escorted to stand before an emergency session of the Silver Parliament. Please step aside.”
“You may do as you wish with the Stranger,” replied Leofryc, “but Prince Oliver is now King Oliver, which means he does not answer to your parliament.”
I opened the door and stepped from the house. I wasn’t sure why, but I suddenly felt weak for allowing the commander of Falcon’s Watch to speak for me. I also had a hunch as to what Marianne was about to say in response.
“As I’m sure this envoy is about to tell you,” I began, standing on the top step, “there are two pillars of lordship, and I’ve only received one of them.”
“Very good,” replied Marianne, bowing towards me. “You have my sympathies, Prince Oliver. But you are correct, you are still bound by the judgements of the parliament.”
Leofryc took a step backwards and spoke quietly. “There are too many to fight, highness, but you can still flee with James Silver Born and the lad.”
“No fighting, no fleeing,” I replied. I addressed Marianne Death Spell. “The Stranger is not here, but I am prepared to go with you.”
Yanos Wolf Bane, clearly more concerned with Marius than with me, stamped his foot in irritation, and barked commands at his adjutants. The legionnaires, waiting in the side streets, took their orders, and several dozen broke the glass, stepping to the void in pursuit of the Stranger. The remaining warriors, still an overwhelming force, redeployed skilfully, filling any gaps.
“What are you doing?” whispered Silver Jack, leaving the house with David.
I didn’t answer him. With a few strides, I moved down the steps, and Falcon’s Watch parted at my approach. I wore no armour, but kept a hand on the hilt of Zephyr, confident I could kill anyone who decided to spontaneously attack me.
“These men are coming too,” I stated, waving for David, Jack and Leofryc to join me on the cobbled street. “Falcon’s Watch will wait for us outside the parliament.”
“Of course,” replied Marianne, smiling warmly. “It is a difficult and uncertain time, and we should keep our friends close.”
*
The black stone of the Silver Parliament was filled with silent figures. Packed galleries of robed ministers encircled me, mostly black, with clusters of silver, and a flash of red. Everything was framed by armoured void legionnaires, who stood at every stairway, and on every gallery. Previously, few ministers had been armed, whereas now most Winterlords wore broadswords and warily regarded the Dark Brethren surrounding them. They all knew my father was dead, and every silver robe looked at me with restrained sympathy in their eyes.
I stood alone on the First Stone, facing the five envoys in their raised seats. Three Dark Brethren, a Winterlord, and a Sea Wolf, each with a very different expression on their face. Elizabeth Defiant maintained her poise, but I could tell she was afraid. Rys Coldfire appeared angry that matters he cared about were not being discussed, though I sensed he was far more aware of the situation than he seemed. Alexis Wind Claw fiddled with her seashell pendant and stared at me, as if excited by what was to come. Marianne Death Spell clearly shared her excitement, and Fabien Darkling looked at me like I was a lesser order of man. My three attendants stood as close as they were allowed, just off the First Stone, next to Joseph High Heart, the Speaker of the parliament, and Lagertha Blood, the Second Fang of the Sea Wolves.
Unexpectedly, it was Elizabeth Defiant who spoke first. The Winterlord envoy rose from her seat, ignoring a glare of disapproval from Alexis, and smiled at me, before standing at the podium and addressing the parliament.
“Hear me,” said Elizabeth, raising her voice to be heard. “Today we lost a king. Whatever else may happen on this day, we should all remember that Christophe Dawn Claw, called the Shining Sword, died today.” Every Winterlord in the auditorium bowed their heads. It was notable that not a single Dark Brethren joined them, though both Sea Wolves did. “Please,” continued Elizabeth. “We must be slow in our thoughts and considered in our actions.” She glanced over her shoulder at Alexis Wind Claw. “There are things we should acknowledge, things I should have said before. I am a Defiant of First Port and I have a duty to my people.”
“Enough!” shouted Alexis. “Stop pretending you are your mother and sit down. I have proposed a motion, so I get to spe
ak first.”
“What motion?” snapped Elizabeth.
“A motion for which you were not needed,” said Marianne Death Spell, her face deceptively warm and friendly.
Joseph High Heart spluttered, and hefted himself up onto the First Stone. “This is unprecedented,” said the Speaker. “All five envoys must vote on any motion.” Winterlord ministers sounded their agreement, by striking the stone of their galleries.
“But, with three votes to two,” countered Alexis, “we saw no need to bother the two. It would have made this moment… less satisfying, my lord speaker.”
“What motion?” repeated Elizabeth Defiant, stepping back from the podium.
Alexis stood and locked eyes with me, her petite frame momentarily lost behind the Winterlord envoy. She ignored Elizabeth and walked slowly to replace her at the podium. Her posture and self-satisfied eyes made it appear she was addressing only me, with the other four hundred Eastron merely acting as an audience.
“Prince Oliver,” she began, her light-brown face twisting into an expression of barely contained delight. “We are the second pillar of lordship and we do not recognize you as Always King.”
Her words were no surprise to me. As the Winterlord ministers began to shout and complain, I felt as if I was merely there to witness my own demise. I imagined Silver Jack, swearing that we’d not left when we had the chance; and my mother, hoping that I’d find a way to be a good man and a king at the same time. As it was, all I could do was think that my life would be meaningless, without one day being king. It should have been today, but the world still refused to cooperate with my destiny. I felt anger building again.
“Speak your words,” I roared, quietening the parliament. “If honour has left this place, I would hear it plainly. I will not play games on the day my father died… on the day I should have become the Always King.” Silence erupted across the auditorium. The only sound was the ambient clank of the void legionnaires, shuffling in their black armour.
Alexis Wind Claw, trying to hide her own anger, gripped the podium with both hands and looked up across six galleries of the parliament. “The motion states,” said the small envoy, “that the reign of the Dawn Claw is over.” From her back, emerging as wings, came a bubbling surge of wyrd. It was the same rotten green colour as Trego’s, and spread until a grotesque owl-creature was faintly visible, superimposed across her diminutive form. “The reign of the Night Wing begins.” The totem of the Brethren appeared diseased and corrupted, and I sensed nothing but malevolence from it.
Silver robes resumed shouting, and the tenth void legion began to move. Up to this point, they’d been holding position, silently guarding every intersection. Now, the black robes parted, allowing the armoured warriors to stand on every gallery.
“Fear not,” continued Alexis. “The parliament will survive. Just with fewer ministers. For the hold of the Silver Dawn now belongs to the Dark Brethren.”
From behind her, Marianne Death Spell stood. She averted her eyes from the ghostly form of her corrupt totem, and raised her hand above her head, as if signalling the legionnaires. With a warm smile on her face, the envoy began to speak. Then she gasped and clutched at her chest. For an instant I couldn’t see what had happened, until Rys Coldfire grunted, emerging from behind the envoy and pushing his falchion the rest of the way through her back.
“Enough of this shit,” boomed the Wolf’s Bastard, flinging Marianne’s dead body aside, and approaching Alexis. “I see now we got here too late. But I’m not afraid of you or your diseased totem.”
The void legionnaires paused, as did I and every other Eastron in the auditorium. As long as the words continued – whether it be gloating, insults or pronouncements – then no final line had been crossed. Even when Alexis Wind Claw revealed that a Lord of the Quarter had been corrupted, no one was dying. Then a Sea Wolf duellist had acted, perhaps seeing exactly where all the words were leading, and impatient to get there first.
“I am not Trego Cyclone,” spat Alexis, appearing not to care that Marianne was dead. “You cannot out-think me, Sea Wolf.”
Gradually, as if realizing that no one was going to give the command, the void legionnaires began corralling all the Winterlords. Leofryc and David sprang to the First Stone and drew their swords. Lagertha Blood rushed towards Rys, as many black robes began to melt away.
“You lot talk too much,” shouted the Wolf’s Bastard, striking out with his light-blue wyrd and lunging at Alexis. He knew what he was doing and was attacking at multiple different angles.
Her green wings flapped forwards, deflecting his wyrd, but Rys was far quicker, and needed only the tiniest opening. With a flick of his wrist, his falchion sliced her throat, sending the envoy sprawling.
Alexis grabbed at the wound, and blood covered her fingers as she used her wyrd to flutter backwards. The slice should have killed her, but she was at least as powerful as Trego had been, and appeared to be drawing her wyrd from the Night Wing itself. The deformed owl was now easier to see, and its mouldy feathers pulsed with chaos and hatred.
“Highness, move,” barked Leofryc, joining David in dragging me backwards. I’d just been standing there, watching the madness play out, until I was physically reminded of how much danger I was in.
“The motion states,” snarled Alexis, rising above the ground, “that any robes other than black are now a grievous insult to the parliament.” She used the wings of the owl to hover above the First Stone, well beyond Rys’s falchion.
I almost fell, as Leofryc manhandled me backwards. Silver Jack had not yet drawn his sword, and was facing away from the envoys, looking at a group of void legionnaires calmly guarding the steps out of the auditorium.
“We should have gone home,” muttered my guardian, before chaos descended upon the parliament.
No actual order was given, but the black-armoured warriors began killing people. From the sixth gallery to the First Stone, Winterlords were pushed together with shields and killed with spears and straight swords. Many had blades and fought back, but they were not equipped for such a fight. Silver robes quickly became red, with the clank of steel competing with the roar of dying Winterlords. There were over a hundred men and women in silver robes, and each and every one was now in a fight for their lives. A fight very few could win. I could no longer see Elizabeth Defiant or Rys Coldfire, but Lagertha Blood was visible, using wyrd to choke an attacker unconscious.
Then there were three void legionnaires standing in front of me, with many more across my field of vision. To my left, Leofryc, the only one of us wearing armour, was driving his shoulder into a Dark Brethren and trying to clear the steps. To my right, David Falcon’s Fang was proving a handful to two legionnaires who’d thought him an easy kill.
“Highness, you should probably draw your sword,” said Silver Jack, joining me in facing the three warriors.
9
There was a dead man in front of me. Joseph High Heart, the Speaker of the Silver Parliament, had a gruesome wound in his chest, and the mark of a boot on his face. The void legionnaire who’d killed him now faced me. His features were masked behind his helmet – a single piece of black steel, forged to look like the face of an owl – but the way he held his shield and spear marked him as a skilled fighter.
He aimed a perfect thrust at my chest, designed to kill me quickly. I didn’t know if he knew who I was. I expected he did, though his form showed little urgency, as if he’d found the perfect technique with his spear, and used muscle memory to repeat it. Unfortunately, perfection was rarely perfect, and I knew exactly where his thrust was coming from. I swayed to the left, using Zephyr to slice his spear in two. Then, with a gentle surge of wyrd, I cut his head off with my backswing.
I couldn’t spend too much time pondering the man who’d killed Joseph High Heart, for there were many more void legionnaires standing in my way. That is to say, our way. My attendants – Leofryc Bright Hand, David Falcon’s Fang and James Silver Born – were far more prepared for a fight
than the silver robes of the parliament, and we had more room to move, next to the First Stone, on the bottom level of the parliament. The steps, leading from the lowest gallery to the huge atrium, were close by, though we had an overwhelming force in the galleries above us. We had to cut our way to freedom quickly, or not at all.
I used my wyrd as a shield, pointed wherever my blade was not, as I killed two men attacking me from different sides. I’d never fought void legionnaires before, and was impressed with their skill. Our wyrd was far stronger than theirs, but we could easily be overwhelmed.
David appeared to have learned from his earlier mistake, and the young duellist was standing next to Silver Jack and being careful not to overextend. In front of me was Leofryc, using his greatsword like a club. He held it at the hilt and halfway along the blade, smashing the point and the pommel into the faces of any legionnaire blocking our way out. The commander of Falcon’s Watch was concerned only with escape, and his efforts gave us an advantage, with the Dark Brethren only able to use a narrow space from which to attack us.
“Prince Oliver!” screamed a rasping voice. “I have not forgotten about you.”
I kicked a void legionnaire in the chest, and drove Zephyr into his face, before glancing over my shoulder. I saw black-armoured warriors finishing off pockets of silver resistance and moving down the galleries towards the First Stone. And I saw Alexis Wind Claw, hovering behind us. She appeared to be part of a spectral owl, causing the air to twist and contort around her, in fetid green waves.
“It will take more than a rabid Sea Wolf to distract me,” cackled Alexis, with a noticeably deeper voice, after Rys’s cut.
I stepped away from Leofryc and the others, and faced the hovering Dark Brethren. The four of us had cleared a space, but it would last only moments, with void legionnaires at every other staircase and intersection. As I stepped closer to Alexis, it became clear I didn’t have time to fight her before we were overwhelmed. Silver Jack was already wounded at the shoulder, as was David at the neck and thigh. Leofryc’s armour was bent and scratched, but he appeared unhurt, and he’d cleared a narrow channel at the top of the steps. I’d seen hubris kill Trego Cyclone and Marianne Death Spell, and I wouldn’t let it kill me.
