by CJ Perry
The knight hesitated, then stepped to the side. His helm kept turning to look at the Empress as the door rolled. The grating stone vibrated the hall and made the lanterns do a jig on their hooks.
Justin and the Illusion resumed their march down the hall. The round stone door finished rolling open, revealing the Sanctum. The red carpet runner led to the altar where Celia still lie chained in her linen tunic and bloomers. Her flaming-red hair hung over the side. The sight of her made his heart lurch. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the Empress, then narrowed with anger. Her strength impressed him. She shook her head and screamed muffled curses into the rag. Her face contorted with rage, a hateful and twisted version of the pain Justin witnessed in the vision.
The Red Knight watched as the Illusion of his mother stepped over the threshold. His hand reached for her but she pulled her arm away. His mother scowled at the knight again. Illusion worked best when people had reason to fear their disbelief.
“If there is something you need to say, Sir Knight, then say it. But if you touch me, you will join her on that altar. I am in no mood,” she said.
The knight recoiled. “I’m sorry, Empress,” he stammered from under his helm, “I don't know what I was thinking.”
His partner grabbed him by the shoulder plate and pulled him backward. “Sorry, Empress. We’ve been on guard since yesterday. He’s confused.”
The Empress nodded. “I will have General Deetra send someone up to relieve you when I’m done here.”
Justin scratched his nose. The invisibility was wearing off. He sent his illusory Empress walking up the carpet runner while he ducked to the side of the door and put his back to the wall. The Invisibility faded and Celia stopped kicking, her eyes wide and focused on him. Justin and the Illusion held a finger to their lips at the same time. The door rolled back into place until only the blue light of the braziers illuminated the room.
Justin walked up the aisle and through the Illusion of his mother. Celia blinked and then squinted at the image of his mother. He dismissed the spell and the Empress disappeared. Celia raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yes,” Justin said and made his way over to her leg irons. “This time, I am here to free you.”
He untied his makeshift belt and the sword. Dylan said the sword cut and burned Darkness. Everything used in sacrifices in this Sanctum was blessed by the High Priestess - that included the chains.
Justin swung the sword down with both hands. The clink of steel rang sharp in the Sanctum. The link snapped into two glowing red halves and the blade sank an inch into the stone beneath. Justin tugged, unwedged it, and held it up. The silver blade did not have a scratch.
Celia protested, her words held back by the rag in her mouth. Justin took it out. Celia moistened her lips and stretched her jaw. Her emerald green eyes met his. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, with a tug on her arm chains.
“I already told you. I’m stopping a war. But before I cut that chain, you must swear to be my prisoner and return to Alfua with me to stand trial for your crimes. If you swear it, I’ll believe you.”
“I told you. I cannot leave while-”
“Killing my mother solves nothing. If you kill her, war will be inevitable, and our army will have a powerful martyr.”
Celia shook her head. “There’s more to it than that.”
Justin rolled his eyes. James would escape that room in short order, if he hadn’t already. Even if he did not break down the door, someone would come looking for Justin once he didn’t show up soon for the unveiling.
“We don’t have time for this,” Justin said, and laid the blade on Celia’s arm chains. “Swear to be my prisoner and testify against your High Priest so we can get out of here.”
Celia slapped her foot down on the altar. “Listen!”
Her voice echoed in the Sanctum and Justin cringed. Their only salvation was that the Red Knights believed the Empress was the only other person in the room. As long as they did not hear Justin, it should not arouse their suspicion.
“You have ten seconds before I leave you here to face your fate. What else is there?”
“The prophecy says that your mother brings back the dragons.”
The braziers burned steady. She believed it. Justin lowered the sword.
“I already told you, your High Priest made a mistake. Prophecy and divine visions are subject to interpretation. They’re symbolic. There are no dragons, nor will there be any.”
It was Celia’s turn to roll her eyes. “So what do dragons raining lighting upon the City of Light symbolize?”
“The dragon skeleton in Freedom Hall is supposed to be unveiled in a few minutes. The plan was to add a dragon to our heraldry to honor the Goddess of Storms, as well as the Dark Queen. Isn’t it possible that it was a vision of war with the Empire under our new banner?”
Celia went slack. “That can’t be it.”
The braziers turned red and Justin raised an eyebrow. “You know your High Priest manipulated you. He kept you ignorant of the truth for seventeen years. He forced you to withhold judgement until the day he believed you would forgive your father.”
Celia shook her head, eyes filling with tears. Justin pressed on, despite the pain her sadness caused him.
“Then he put you in front of that sword and told you the only way to redeem your father and stop dragons...” he paused for emphasis so she could hear how ridiculous it sounded, “…was to kill the Empress.”
Celia nodded, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Perhaps.”
“What?”
“You told me to look for the detail I missed when I talked to the High Priest. He said perhaps. Everything he said, it was always maybe and perhaps.”
Justin lifted the sword and cut her arm chains. He unwrapped them from her wrists and helped her up to a sitting position. Celia hung her head, no longer sobbing, but crying in silence. Justin put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.
“Swear to be my prisoner and return to Aflua with me to stand trial.”
Celia nodded and whispered, “I swear.”
Muted shouts came from the hall outside and Celia dropped down from the altar. Justin held out his hand. They had seconds before the door started to roll open.
“Give me one of your eyelashes.”
“What? No,” Celia said and wiped her chin. She held out one hand and wiped her eyes with the other, her voice urgent. “Just give me the sword.”
With a crack of stone, a crescent of light from the hall expanded as the knights opened the door. Justin kept his hand out to her. They had no time to argue.
“No. Eyelash now, prisoner.”
Celia clenched her jaw but plucked at her eyelashes with two fingers and dropped two into his palm. Justin fished out his piece of clear quartz, grabbed Celia’s hand, and placed it in her palm with the eyelash on top.
James stepped through the gap of the door. The two Red Knights stood behind him, all three had swords drawn. Justin returned the quartz to the pocket in his sash and James leveled his sword at Justin.
“You so much as twitch a finger or mumble a word I don't like-”
Justin shrugged and held up the sword for James’ inspection. “I could just hand this to her.” He tipped his head to Celia, next to him. “Then I wouldn’t need to twitch any fingers.”
Celia wore a sneer that could instigate a fight from across a tavern. “Not one.”
Her red hair had gone wild and tangled from thrashing on the altar. Her anger and desire for battle made themselves evident in her every breath. The Red Knights behind James took a step forward but James held up a hand and they stopped.
James grinned, sheathed his sword, and unclipped his weapon belt. It fell to the floor with a clang and he walked along the carpet runner toward Justin. He held out his empty hands.
“Give it to her. Let her strike me down. Is she so dishonorable as to strike down an unarmed man?”
James knew the answer to that, no Guardian or a Red Knight w
ould ever attack an unarmed opponent. But Justin could ill afford further delay of his escape, or to allow James to get any closer. Justin stepped back into the Truth Circle and leveled the sword at James.
“Maybe she won’t kill an unarmed man. But I will, if you force me to.”
James stopped, staring at the unwavering braziers that told him Justin meant every word. If Justin’s mother or Deetra got ahold of him now, there would be no negotiation. Celia would die on the altar, and war would come. His own fate hung in the balance. Justin shook his head.
“Don't do this, James. If I can get her to Aflua to testify, I can stop this war and strike a blow at the Temple of Light all at once. Mother knows it but she is afraid I will betray her.”
James scoffed. “You mean, like this?”
He took a step forward and Justin tipped his head to the side. “Last warning, James.”
James walked until the tip of the blade touched his breast plate. The tip of the sword sputtered and popped, the battle of Light and Dark raging right in front of them. He leaned in. The sword punctured a tiny hole and sizzled. James stared into Justin’s eyes.
“Do it.”
“I-”
James slapped the blade out of Justin’s hands. It went skittering across the floor and disappeared into the dark edges of the room. A punch snapped Justin’s head back and he reeled. He chased his balance backwards until his rear struck the altar.
The guards behind James charged. Celia ran in the direction of the sword and they followed her. A kick to the gut sucked the wind out of Justin’s lungs and the world grayed. He dropped to his rear, back to the altar, fighting to take a breath. Celia dove into the blackness beyond the light of the braziers.
Light flared in the Sanctum and Celia’s red hair trailed out behind her as she stood and the sword’s power awoke in her hands. The wounds on her face healed, the swelling over her eyes vanishing. James turned his head to look and Justin kicked out with his back braced against the altar, hitting James square in the armored abdomen. James flew off his feet and went sprawling onto the floor with a clang.
James wheezed and curled into a ball. Steel rang out in the sanctum as Celia joined the fight. Justin used the altar to pull himself up to his feet. His legs trembled and his nose bled over his lips and chin. He choked and coughed, trying to get his breath.
The light from Celia’s sword wavered and shifted, throwing shadows of the pillars as she passed between them. One Red Knight lay on the floor in a pool of blood, his leg severed at the knee and a hole through his breastplate. Steel rang again and a man hollered in pain.
“Celia, stop! You can’t kill them!”
Celia appeared from behind a pillar, one leg of her bloomers cut and blood running down to her ankle. She backed away from a Red Knight in full attack. His armor had a glowing-red slash across the ribs from Celia’s blade. She parried and dodged, using the pillar for cover. The knight’s blade threw sparks as it glanced off the stone.
Justin dipped his hand into his robe for a spool of thin wire. He twirled it around three fingers in his pocket, binding them together. He recalled a Holding. The words came to him.
James tackled him from the side. The spool and wire disintegrated in Justin’s pocket as the spell fizzled. His lower back hit the altar as James pinned him to the smooth stone. Justin lay bent over backwards with James’ forearm to his throat. Spots floated in his vision as James’ dark brown eyes loomed above him. James gritted his teeth, shaking with rage.
“Take the oath. Say it now.”
Justin fought to keep his footing, to keep the pressure off his back. He shook his head and James pressed his forearm harder against Justin’s throat. He put his hands on James’ face and pushed back, pressing his fingertips into his eyes. The pressure on Justin’s neck eased for a moment, before James wrapped his hands around his throat. Justin let go of James’ face and returned the choke, wrapping his long fingers around his brother’s neck.
James’ eyes turned red but Justin’s peripherals had already grayed. James was going to kill him. Justin’s grip weakened.
Celia’s voice yelled, “Let him go!”
She punched James in the face. He let go and stumbled back. The carpet runner bunched under his feet and he tripped backward. Justin sunk to the floor, his throat on fire and head pounding. The light from Celia’s sword hurt his eyes as she helped him to his feet.
James wiped blood from his lips and collected his sword from the floor. He left it in the scabbard as he stood. Celia took a ready stance, sword out in front of her, the tendrils of smoke and shadow writhing at the edge of the sword’s radius around her. James held the handle, ready to draw his blade, and met Justin’s eyes.
“I’m going to draw this sword, and she’s going to kill me. Once that happens, there’s no coming back. My mother will hunt you both to the ends of the world. That’s the path you’ve chosen, brother.”
Justin held out a hand to each of them. “No. Wait. It doesn’t have to happen that way.” He pointed at Celia. “Drop the sword.”
Celia kept her eyes on James. “I think not.”
“You’re my prisoner! You took a vow!”
James drew the blade, letting the scabbard drop. He took a ready position.
Celia lifted the sword and saluted him. She spoke without looking at him as she took her stance. “To stand trial in Aflua, and I intend to see we get there.”
James lunged and Justin stepped in front of him. James spun and attacked Celia from the side. The clash of steel made Justin’s ear ring. Celia kicked Justin in the back of the leg, forcing him to take a knee. She swung the sword over his head.
Justin shoved her backward. “Stop! If-”
A boot stepped on Justin’s back forcing him down to all fours. James leaped over him, sword raised. Justin whirled around. Celia met the attack with a parry, still off balance, and fell onto her back from the force of the shot. James’ blade broke, half of it clattering to the ground.
No time for a spell, Justin held out a fist and then flicked his fingers open. A Cantrip of tiny fireworks flared with a firecracker bang, inches from James’ nose. James blinked and shook his head to clear it. Justin rushed him but Celia got there first.
“No!” Justin yelled, but Celia’s blade cut a horizontal arc, splashing blood in Justin’s face.
James dropped to his knees. A woman screamed from the hall. James’ head toppled off as his body fell forward with a spout of blood. The scream came again, ragged and blood curdling. James’ wide-open eyes stared up into Justin’s.
He had failed. James’ last words would prove prophetic; there was no stopping the war now.
Chapter Fifteen
Pillars of Faith
Justin glared at Celia in the pale blue light of the Sanctum’s braziers. She pointed toward the half-crescent doorway. Deetra stood at the other end of the hall by the door to the stairs, a new glaive in her hands. The scream that had echoed through the Sanctum when James died had been hers. Her shoulders heaved with rage. She slapped down her gleaming red visor and ran down the hall with a rising battle cry.
Justin grabbed the sword out of Celia’s hand and returned Deetra’s charge. The hall measured four or five times longer than the Sanctum and Justin reached the door first. He had no time to close it and the only spells he had left would not help.
The pillars on either side of the entrance supported sections of the twenty-foot ceiling. He had counted at least twelve other two-foot wide pillars throughout the room. Deetra raised the glaive to throw it like a spear. Justin swung the sword with everything he had at the nearest pillar. The silvery blade shrieked as it cut into the stone, sparks and chips of rocks flying. It came to a stop halfway through. Justin pulled the blade out of the glowing-hot stone with absurd ease.
The pillar cracked the rest of the way through, creating a rain of mortar from the ceiling above. The glaive hit him in the stomach, the blade piercing his robe and plunging deep. The sword clanked to the ground. He fell b
ack, holding the heavy haft of the protruding glaive. Deetra skidded to a stop as the first blocks of stone fell.
Celia caught him and dragged him away from the entrance. The pillar broke, crashing down in a thunderous cacophony and sealing off the entrance. The second pillar remained standing, a monolith in the sunlight that now poured into the Sanctum. Celia pulled him into her lap. His hands and feet had gone numb.
The world spun in a haze of pain, dust, and heartache. James was dead, beheaded before Deetra’s eyes. Now Justin would die at the hands of his stepmother. Celia would die just as soon as they cleared the debris. Justin’s mother would have no voice of reason and no mercy. The war would come.
What have you done? Justin said, but the words fell never made it past his numb lips.
“Shh, now,” Celia soothed, and pushed his hair out of his eyes. She placed a warm hand over his forehead, the other gripping his hand that still held the haft of the glaive.
“By Your Light he is healed,” she said, and her hand on him tightened.
She pulled the blade out, bringing a white-hot flare of agony. Justin arched his back against the pain, gritting his teeth, eyes squeezed shut. Cornflower blue light filtered under his eyelids and he opened them. The pain eased as the cool light spread over his body and his muscles relaxed. The warm sunlight highlighted Celia’s red curls as they dangled in his face. She looked him over. Satisfied, she slid her legs out from under him and got to her feet.
“How do we get out of here?”
Justin sat up, rubbing his belly. He examined his robe. The bloody slash in the brocade had mended itself. Justin’s mother had healed him before - hundreds of times. But he had never suffered an injury of that magnitude before. The memory of the pain lingered in his abdomen.
He sat between two braziers on their wrought iron stands, a few feet from the altar. The glaive still lay on the floor between his legs, wet with his blood. If not for Celia, Deetra would have killed him. But if not for Celia, Deetra would not have tried to.
