The mention of Xair's wife and their child on the way made him clench his eyes tight to hold back the flood of stinging tears. He was finally ready to become a father, but these people were making sure that he never would be. Why were they doing this to him? To make things easier on the common people of the country? What Zeriel said was only half true. When Xair agreed to help Carvael open the ancient book, it was to get him to stop the guards from beating him one night. He had no choice. The guards had come to his cell, reeking of whiskey, with clubs in their hands. They had surrounded Xair and began shouting obscenities and racial names at him. Just before they lunged at him, Caravel had appeared and stopped them. It was then that the archangel gave his ultimatum. If Xair would not help him open the Draconia Lexicanum and translate the pages, then Carvael would allow the guards to beat him. At that point, Xair was so exhausted and weak that a beating like that would have left him near death. That is why he finally broke and agreed to help. He had no other choice.
The judge motioned back towards the bench. "Fallen Angel Brinxael, what is your vote?"
Brinx stood up from the bench as her brother returned to his spot next to her. Her brown locks spilled gracefully over her shoulders and the straps of her lace corset dress. "I don't want to kill him."
"What is your official vote, Brinxael?" The judge asked. "Freedom, life imprisonment, or immediate execution? You are the final vote. If you do not agree with the judgment of your fellow angels, then this case will go to the public. I would rather not have to involve the common citizens. They are already biased against the defendant due to his race. I can tell you right now what punishment they will impose upon the Ka'taylin. Extending this trial any longer will only incite riots and unrest in Ilyan. You do not want the innocent Ka'taylin refugees who have set up camps nearby to be the targets of unwarranted hatred, do you?"
"Are you saying that killing Xair will only serve to sate the bloodthirsty demands of racist Northerners?" Brinx asked.
"Kill one to save hundreds." The judge shrugged his shoulders coldly. "Everyone knows what this man has done in his past. He nearly killed off his people just to prove a point. Now he claims to be some chosen prophet of Sola? You know that he is dangerous. If you want to serve King Jaylen and free Sola, then you must do what is right. To be completely honest, I would kill off every Ka'taylin if I had my way. I am not afraid to state that fact. Rune-skins bring nothing but unrest and instability. They are a direct threat to our way of life. But that is up to our king. What I can do is ensure that this criminal's death serves as an example to all of his kind that any sort of insubordination, uprisings, or questionable activities will not be tolerated. Do not drag this out needlessly. Give the vote you know is right."
Brinx wiped the tears from her eyes. "Then for the good of Aldexa and for Sola, I vote for . . . immediate execution."
"Very well. Then it is unanimous and decided. The defendant will now stand for sentencing."
Xair gritted his teeth as he shakily stood as best as he could with the chains wrapped around his legs. A sinking feeling embedded deeply in his chest as his heart began to race. All eyes were fixed on him. The tall windows along the outside walls of the courthouse were filled with citizens looking in who had been denied access to the courtroom, but they stood in the pouring rain just to get a glimpse of Xair.
The judge pointed his gavel at Xair. "Xair Korvin, you are hereby sentenced to death by beheading, after which your body will be burned and your head will be placed on a pike outside the city as a warning for your fellow Ka'taylins. Your ashes will be mixed with your blood then the mixture will be spread on the tents of your people as a poignant reminder of what will happen if they decide to break any laws. We will not accept violence, spying, and heresy in Vilyron. I find this sentence to be fitting and just. You will be brought before the public at dawn to pay for your crimes. May Sola have mercy on your soul."
The rabble outside began cheering and throwing rocks at the windows, screaming out their hatred in cursing and threats. The angels that Xair had once considered to be his friends remained silent as they sat there in the empty courtroom with their heads bowed and eyes staring at the floor below their feet. The priests who had brought the case against Xair hugged each other and laughed in the glory of their victory. The other half of the courtroom was silent. There had been no one on Xair's side.
The gavel slammed against the wooden pulpit as the judge quieted everyone. "We are not yet finished here. The condemned may be a Ka'taylin, but that does not mean that we may abandon the rules of this court. I will now give the condemned one final chance to say anything he may need to say before he faces his fate. Xair Korvin, is there anything you wish to tell the people in this courtroom?"
At first, Xair only wanted to get this over with, to be led back to his cell to await the artificial mage-glow sunrise that would signal his death. But then he glanced over at the hateful eyes glaring at him through the windows. If he was going to die, then he might as well set the record straight. They claimed that none of this had to do with his people, but he knew better. He had been the target of far too much racism to foolishly think for one second that it didn't. Xair cleared his throat weakly as he made eye contact with the row of angels. "I will speak."
"Very well."
Xair took a deep breath to compose himself like he had been taught so long ago as a child. He had to control his emotions, as difficult as that was becoming. Now was his only chance to do this. It had to be done. He tried to block out the shouting of the citizens outside the rain-streaked windows as he spoke. "I am ashamed to call myself a human being if this is the way humans treat their brothers. No, I take that back. I will not be ashamed of who I am. Time for that has passed. I speak now for all Ka'taylins. You think it's holy to persecute us, enslave us, and deny us basic rights because of how we were born? Does our skin, our eyes, or our way of life mark us as animals? Nothing I say today will change your minds, but I make you a promise. My people will rise again. And when we do, we will hold no feelings of hatred or condemnation. No. That would make us just like you. Instead, we will offer our homes, our arms, and our tables to you as a sign of forgiveness and solidarity. You know why? Because that is what true holy people do. That is what human beings do. I will face my fate with dignity and die as a martyr for the oppressed, the downtrodden, and for all humans who face discrimination at the hands of the corrupt."
The judge motioned for the guards who then approached Xair to lead him away.
"May I make a request?" Xair asked as the guards took the ends of the chains in their hands.
"That's a bit bold for a man condemned to death, isn't it?" The judge asked. "Though if it ends this, I suppose the court can at least hear what you have to request. There is no guarantee that it will be fulfilled."
Xair finally lost his battle against the inundation of tears. They fell from his eyes and streaked down his cheeks, glistening in the mage-glow. "I do not want Jaylen, Liam, or Amari to be in attendance. They are too innocent to watch this. Zeriel, please do this for me."
Zeriel placed his hand over his heart. "I will, Xair. You have my word as an angel. Farewell, my friend."
Chapter 2
The tavern was alive with gossiping, hushed whispers, and boisterous cheering, all about an upcoming execution in Ilyan. Patrons were bragging about how they had caught a glimpse of the dead man walking or how they were going to be in attendance. A few of them ordered a round of drinks to take with them as they exited into the night just to stand in the courtyard to wait until the mage-glow grew brighter in the sky, which would be another six hours at the earliest. Apparently, an execution of this magnitude was quite the festive occasion.
Jaycob pushed his red bangs back up under his hat as he strutted past the counter where the barkeep eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and alarm. It was no matter. It would most certainly not be the first time he had garnered a great deal of attention from people. If he did not want the attention, he wouldn't be wearing a b
right pink silk shirt with puffy sleeves, a long yellow and black checkered skirt adorned with various leather pockets, and an overly large hat with three angel feathers, one orange, one blue, and one white, pinned into the green ribbon. It was the same thing he wore every day, no matter what tasks he was doing. The eight-inch-tall clay doll sitting on his shoulder probably didn't help the matter either.
The children in the corner instantly jumped up upon seeing him enter the tavern, their young eyes bright with anticipation. Even children in Vilyron knew a bard when they saw one. They gathered around him, tugging on his sleeves or hugging his legs and begging for stories and songs. On any other day, Jaycob would have been more than happy to perform for them for hours, but he had more pressing matters to attend to at that moment. Still, he could not let the children down.
"Hey there. Wanna see something fun?" Jaycob knelt down and took the clay doll from his shoulder. He placed it on its feet on the floor then snapped his fingers. The doll's eyes lit up with glowing orange light and it began moving around on its own.
The children gasped and clapped their hands as they gathered around to watch it.
"It's a golem. His name is Dusty. You all can play with him for a while if you're gentle. No throwing him or anything, okay?"
One of the little boys kissed his cheek affectionately. "Thank you, mister!"
"No problem. Be good, Dusty."
The golem bowed slightly before he took off running in circles around the children's legs.
Jaycob rolled his eyes then headed over to the bar. Just as he was about to signal for the barkeep, he heard something from one of the tables nearby. The group of men was chanting something over and over between the clinking of their glasses and long drinks of their ale.
"Kill the rune-skins! Kill the rune-skins!"
Enough of that. Jaycob approached the table then slammed his heeled boot on the table. "Stop."
The man with the scraggly beard looked up from his drink. "Who are you? Some kind of girly bard?"
Jaycob placed his hands on his hips and threw his head back as he laughed. "Oh, please. I am not a bard. I am The Bard. My name is Jaycob Colif Tamerlayn-Sequarius of Destfort. I do not appreciate your language. There are children here who do not need to be witnesses to such callous racism. Please refrain from saying that, or I will make you stop saying it."
"Are we supposed to be impressed? Get your filthy boots off of our table, or I'll be forced to carve some scars into that pretty face of yours. I can say whatever the hell I want about those filthy dog-brained rune-skins."
Jaycob grinned, showing perfectly straight white teeth. "So crass. So bossy. I love it. You know, if you wanted some actual employment, I know a good acting troop looking for big oafs like you who have your certain lack of intelligence to carry their equipment around. Don't worry. No education or poise required. I'll tell them you fit the bill."
The burly man jumped up, overturning the table and his chair as he drew his rusty-bladed shortsword from his hip. Pitchers of ale and ceramic plates crashed on the filthy floor, leaving shards of glass scattered around. The children cried out in surprise and huddled together behind the golem that held out its tiny arms to keep them back from the fight.
Jaycob reached into one of the many leather pockets on his skirt to retrieve a deck of playing cards with purple backs. He dodged the drunken man's blade then threw one of the cards. The card spun through the air then lodged itself deep in the man's shoulder. He sent two more at the man, hitting him in his arm and his stomach. With a whistle, the cards sparked to life with electricity, dropping the man to the ground instantly.
The tavern grew silent as people backed away and held up their hands.
Jaycob reached down and removed the bladed cards from the man's body then replaced them in his deck. "Anyone else? I'll deal them again if anyone feels the need to challenge me." When no one replied, he rolled the belligerent man over on his back then placed one of the cards against his throat. "Now, before I cut out your windpipe, you will tell me who is being executed in the morning."
The man groaned as spit trickled from his mouth. "A rune-skin heretic. He's half dragon or something. Crazy man killed a bunch of slavers then joined Eternal Eclipse as a spy. I say good riddance."
"His name. I need his name."
"I ain't got a name for him. Dirt doesn't get a name."
Jaycob's green eyes narrowed as he tightened his hand around the man's throat. "I don't know where this amount of hatred has come from recently, but it sickens me to hear you speak of a fellow human in this manner. I know someone in this room knows the condemned man's name. If you value your lives, I suggest you tell me now."
"Xair Korvin."
Jaycob let the man's head fall back to the floor. He turned around to look at them all before racing out of the tavern. There was no way in Aldexa he was going to let Xair be executed. Xair was one of the reasons Jaycob had come here to Vilyron. "Dusty, with me!"
The golem ran after him then leapt up to Jaycob's shoulder and sat there.
"Come on, Dusty. We are going to have a little chat with our king."
* * *
Jaycob dismounted his white horse and tossed the orange reins back up onto the horse's back. He placed the golem on his shoulder as always, then skipped across the muddy puddles and broke out into a full run towards the mass of pale yellow tents that formed the camp. It had been an hour's ride from Ilyan out here in the middle of nowhere, but he did what he had to do.
A few soldiers where sitting around fires or cooking something in the large pots hanging over the flames. A cart was being unloaded on the far side of the camp where one poor soldier, wearing only his underwear, was running in circles to chase four chickens through the mud. It was indeed a scene worthy of a story, but Jaycob was in no mood to write any stories.
He stormed up to the biggest tent there and was about to throw open the flap when a tall angel with black hair and piercing white eyes stepped out, pushing him backwards. "Where is King Jaylen? I demand to speak with him. This is an outrage that I must stop."
The angel raised an eyebrow curiously. "Can I help you?"
"Angel, let me through. I demand an audience with King Jaylen immediately."
"I'm afraid he is sleeping. You may come back tomorrow afternoon."
"That is too late!" Jaycob stomped his foot in frustration. "Who are you, anyway? His bodyguard or something?"
"I am Fallen Angel Zeriel. I serve King Jaylen as his guardian, his confidant, and his faithful servant. Anyone who wants to speak with him has to go through me first. He is my Master."
Jaycob pointed angrily at the tent. "Then tell your Master that I must stand up for the lives of the Ka'taylins in this country. This is absolutely abhorrent. How dare he execute a man based on his race? That's what this is and you know it. Now, let me through or you're about to lose some of those ebony feathers of yours."
"King Jaylen is not seeing anyone at this time. Threaten me if you must, but I can assure you that your words will accomplish nothing other than making all of us very angry."
There were footsteps behind him, so Jaycob turned around to see a group of angels encircling him with weapons drawn. "Really? You are all supportive of this miscarriage of justice? Fine. I'll take care of it myself. I'll go speak to the judge. This is ridiculous."
A tall seraph with blond hair and ethereal wings stepped forward. "I am Seraph Jeremiah. I suggest you leave before we are forced to take action against you. State your name."
A white-haired angel stepped forward and locked eyes with him. "His name is Jaycob Colif Tamerlayn-Sequarius of Destfort. He is my grandson."
Every one of the angels turned to gape at him with their mouths wide open. Zeriel was the first to ask the question on everyone's mind. "Oviel . . .you slept with a woman?"
"On a certain complicated occasion, yes. Vista Corrifus, a relative of Jaylen's. Then our daughter, Christine Tourney, Duchess of Wolfekin mated with Gavin the Incubus and they had Jaycob. M
y angel blood greatly cancels out Gavin's demon blood, leaving what appears to be a normal human."
Jaycob crossed his arms angrily. "So it's you, Oviel. Hold on. Did you just say that I am related to this backwards country's king?"
"Yes."
"And yet you angels will not grant me an audience with him?"
Jeremiah scoffed. "Blood gets you nowhere in this country, bard."
"Then I demand to see my grandson. I know he's here. If Oviel is here, then Liam is here. I've never met him, but I have heard his name. I came all the way from Cilona to see him. Please."
Zeriel shook his head. "No."
"What? Why not? He is my grandson and he has no other family. Let me be there for him."
"Liam is not here. He left to go on a mission two days ago. I'm afraid he belongs to someone else who will not take kindly to being in your presence. Liam is mated to Elder Dragon Karixlesminatim."
Jaycob took a step backwards as the air left his lungs. "W-what?"
"Yes. Liam belongs to Karix." Zeriel repeated himself.
"How could you have let this happen?" Jaycob asked, still trying to put the pieces together. "Oviel, how could you have given that boy over to a dragon? Don't you know what those dragons do to their riders? Don't you know what happened to me? What is this world coming to? First we execute an innocent Ka'taylin just because you Northerners dislike their customs, then you hand a young boy over to be used and abused by a dragon who could care less about him, and now you angels are keeping me away from saving someone's life. I should have stayed in Cilona. At least there, Carvael rarely made an appearance and I was able to help the child slaves they brought in. Here, I feel . . . unwelcome."
Angel of Darkness Books 6-10 Page 41
