A Leaf and Pebble

by Andrew Monroe

  “We’ve decided to ignore your statement, Sliva. As will anyone else here who heard it.” He cleared his throat, shifting in the petite jacket. “We’ve also decided a public trial would be best, if we can agree on certain terms with these two prior to it.”

  As he finished, the woman to his right began. “We’ll charge you with murder, find you guilty of only following your conscience, and dismiss everything. You’ll have to give a decent speech filled with remorse, and your justifications. An exorbitant fine charged, to go to hiring replacements for those slain, clean-up costs, and compensation for the family.”

  Volant started to say something, but she held up a hand, stopping him.

  “You’ll not actually have to pay. The Guard and council will cover the fine, discreetly,” she assured him. “However, as soon as this business is done, you will be leaving Erset. Permanently.”

  It was my turn to start. “That’s—”

  She cut me off, talking louder. “Our decision is final. Do you accept? We could just have you executed instead, but it really was miserable with those Equals running the place. A bit embarrassing, too.”

  “Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. Turning to Sliva, I dropped my voice even softer. “The whole point of last night was so we’d be safe staying here. Can’t wait to tell Andreska.”

  Sliva just smiled, not a care in the world.

  “As for you, Sliva,” the woman continued. “We’ve also decided to bring you onto the council. The decision was completely unanimous, in the end.”

  With his coat pulled tight about him, one of the councilmen scowled. Apparently, he wasn’t a fan of the idea originally.

  “Let’s try and not encourage people to kill for promotions though. Could be a bad precedent to set,” said the woman again.

  “Thank you,” Sliva said, saluting again. “When will this take effect?”

  “Tomorrow,” replied the other man, a droopy mustache framing his face. “Specifically, when we start the trial. I’d rather have a full belly, so let’s have it just after lunch?”

  Everyone agreed, and Sliva looked far too happy with herself for this to be a coincidence.

  “You two are dismissed, we’ll send some Guard to escort you back here tomorrow.” He then turned, gesturing for the Equals to be brought forward. “As for them. Not much to do. Cut off a hand each? Execution?”

  “Those punishments seem a little extreme,” Sliva replied, making a shooing gesture at Volant and I as the door was opened again.

  “Strip them of rank, let them stay on as laborers or exile,” offered the quiet councilwoman who’d not spoken yet.

  We walked out as they were still discussing the fate of the Equals. Nothing that really mattered to us, after all. Not being able to stand the thought of seeing my parents after they let me down yet again, we climbed up to the homes second floor and slipped through the back window. We made a couple Soft Stepper style blanket nests, and silently went back to sleep after our whirlwind morning. It was amazing how tired I was, despite the impending trial tomorrow. This time, I wasn’t interrupted, not waking until my stomach demanded attention halfway to lunch the next day. Volant was out for the count as well, needing at least as much sleep as I did.

  Thirty-nine

  I left a note when I woke up that I would be back with food, and slipped back out the window. I still wasn’t ready to see my parents. All in all, that much sleep had turned me into a new person. I felt amazing. It may be time to shift focus on what’s important in life, and having a long night’s rest was going to be at the top of the list. That would be much easier than trying to figure out a career as a Learner. Probably far more peaceful, too. That inner voice whispered that a peaceful life didn’t seem to be in the cards for me, though. After a quick trip to the bread griller, I returned with almost an entire loaf of grilled and honeyed slices of bread. Volant was going to be ecstatic. I swung back up into the room to find him having just woken up and reading my note. I grinned and proffered the bread out to him.

  Volant grinned in return. “You’re the best kind of friend, Nil. Thanks.” He took a pair and blissfully ate the hunger pains away.

  I saluted my own toast in response before inhaling it as well. There was nothing in the world as good as bread. We headed down after finishing. Our boots clomped across the smooth stairs carved directly into the tree. In an apparent fit of guilt, my parents had left us breakfast in the main room. Fruit, fish, and those nasty fermented beans.

  “It’s disgusting,” I told Volant as he poked at the pungent and sticky bean paste. “It’s sticky beans they eat for breakfast around Erset.”

  “Smells awful,” he said. With the tip of a fork, he poked a tiny bit and raised it to his mouth. Oddly enough, his face lit up with delight when he tasted it. “Woah! That’s actually great!”

  I shook my head in disappointment. “It’s all yours, you animal.”

  While Volant shoveled a helping of fish and beans onto his plate, I went to work on the fruit. Nothing weird here, just berries, some citrus, and a bunch of bananas that were getting dangerously close to being out of season. I tried a bit of the fish, ending up eating a good bit of it as well when the fruit was beginning to taste too sweet. I’d have killed to have some korbit like we’d had in Brod, or mooshi from Wydvis, but neither seemed to be an option for today.

  To pass the little time left, we both pulled out the journals Volant had found in Dioden’s cache. I’d been lucky enough to have it with our hasty departure from Tryst. We lounged in silence, each of us finding solace on paper. It wasn’t long before the escort showed up though. Thankfully, my mind was calmed finally, no longer in the state of near constant overflow the last few days had been. I greeted the new, slightly more polite men who walked in. Not exactly friendly, but there were only the two and both were far less grabby than yesterday’s.

  People were already appearing in the council’s hall as we arrived. Groups chatting amiably, waiting to start. It looked like word had spread rather quickly. A scattering of cheers and applause went up when we were walked in, flanked on either side by the two Thumpers. The noise died down when the five counselors came in, taking their seats in front of the assembly.

  “Show offs,” I whispered to Volant.

  “They’ve been probably sitting back there for hours, waiting for us to come in,” he agreed.

  Sliva had that too-pleased quirk to her smile as she took the center chair. She waved, and any remaining conversations were hushed. Again, the doors were shut, an odd move considering the public trial desire. Even stranger, the door was locked as well. When the door shut, a faint look of confusion crossed her face, before being replaced again by that quirk. “I believe everyone here now knows of Councilman Turks’ demise, and subsequent removal of the Equals from control over Erset’s Guard.”

  More applause at this. Seems the Equals were far from popular. Most likely, it was the curfew. Erset citizens were fairly laid back on most laws, but took their freedom very seriously, as it contradicted their religious beliefs.

  “We are not here to decide whether these two are guilty,” Sliva said. “Instead, we are here to weigh out justice, balance the scales of what wrong and right they did.” The crowd murmured at this, but Sliva just continued through it. “We would like to invite the accused to come up and offer their own version of events, and an apology if they deem it appropriate. We will decide after that.”

  Volant nudged me in the back. I stepped forward and cleared my throat. “Umm, very well,” I said to Sliva. Turning to the audience, I launched into an improvised version of the night before, leaving out the names, numbers, and less savory details. I asked for forgiveness from the families of those who were hurt, though from the sounds of it the only family they had would have been parents who grieved privately. It was a short apology, and I doubted anyone took it very sincerely.

  My reflexes were back on point thankfully. A sparking arrow hurtled at my face, to which I casually stepped to the side, its fligh
t leaving a smoking trail to the back balcony. Before we could react more fully, another dozen shafts, all aflame, sped down from nearly every direction. Sliva was struck. So was another councilman. A few citizens got caught in the second wave of attack, terrified cries overwhelming the sound of anything else. Volant was by my side as another arrow sped towards me, which I also dodged. I vaulted up to where Sliva lay slumped in the raised seating for the council. I was moving in a focused, suppressed emotion state. People trying to kill me apparently had finally lost its panic inducing element.

  Deep, ragged breaths from Volant punctuated the cries around us. A shaft stuck through his forearm, blood dripping down its point.

  “Left handed god spawns,” I growled as we took cover behind the enormous chairs. “Can’t we just have one day without some violence?” I slammed my fist into the platform, eyes watching for movement to indicate a trap door. I slammed it again, looking in the other direction. An arrow thudded into the chair next to me.

  There. A square panel in the wood jumped a little as another arrow bounced off the floor. I’d heard tons of rumors that there was a trapdoor up here, but I’d never managed to sneak into the council chamber.

  “Priests,” Volant said.

  My blood ran cold. Finally looking up to the windows, I saw blue robed men. “Uh oh.”

  Smoke was beginning to obscure the rest of the room. As one, the blue robed archers dropped to the floor. Their signature clothing fluttered as they came down like acrobats. Someone had gotten the door open, and the rest of the Citizens not skewered with an arrow were fleeing out the side. Not a single Guard was among the living. The assassin priests, nightmares of the night, had eyes only for us. Each held a sickle in one hand, and a ball of fire in the other. They advanced on the platform, leaving only two guarding the now open door. One tossed over her fireball at us, which expanded until it was the size of a blanket.

  Volant, injured as he was, whipped an arm around the chair and blew the fireball to the side. Flames splattered against the tree’s inner wall. He then promptly passed out.

  I stood from behind the chair, moving to face the frontmost of the priests, and hoping none moved in behind me. Their bald heads gleamed under the deep hoods. It wasn’t anger that fueled me this time. Skill coursed through my body. A mix of emotions ran beneath my still calm exterior. Anger was there, of course, as it should be. But indignation was there too. Fear as well, perfectly sour. But the most prominent emotion, the one fueling my will now was something more electric.

  Charged and quick. It felt like a kiss from a cute girl, making my senses snap into too-real focus. Another ball of fire arced at me. I waved as if seeing an old friend. The fire scattered to embers as I smothered it with Skill. Finally, I’d find out if I would have been able to handle Rook or not.

  Part of me was worried about Volant, and that part sat back quietly, but constantly reminding me of my friend’s need. It reminded me that I was in a tree which was now on fire. That he was bleeding profusely from an arrow. That there was no help. The rest of me however, was positively thrilled. These people were monsters. And, dying wouldn’t be so bad either. I too, was a bit of a monster.

  And so, we began.

  A sickle slashed and swiped. Fire flickered and flared. Both hurt me, but neither hurt me enough. I cared little about anything that wasn’t ending the first priest rushing up to me. They don’t work in groups normally, my detached mind reminded me. Whoever sent so many at once actually handicapped them, much like when I’d fought the Naturals. I used their numbers against them, making them work around each other.

  I’d been woefully overconfident though. Rook would have cleaned the floor with me while still reading a book at the same time. These priests weren’t nearly as precise as he had been, especially for Naturals. But they were still far above my skill set. I flitted back and forth between them, trying to not get too badly hurt, letting them get in each other’s way. I disrupted the nice little ring they’d made. Smoke made us all blind. Luckily for me, they continually held fire in their hands making for a nice target. Anything that moved was fair game since Volant was on the floor bleeding out.

  A blue robe leapt at me as I put a needle-sharp spike of Skill through his friend’s neck. He kicked, missing by a hair, before landing in a roll and coming up with the sickle. This made contact as I stumbled backwards, ripping a jagged cut across my chest. I barely disintegrated the follow up fireball as I tried to retaliate, instead leaving us in a stalemate. A burning fist crashed into my lower back, pain exploding from the fiery punch.

  I fell to the ground, rolling to put the flames out. The same hand rolled on the ground next to me, smoldering. It seemed a third priest saw the opening and had tried to shear me in two, but instead took off his comrade’s hand. My lucky day. I chuckled a bit, before coughing on the smoke and wheezing in pain.

  A man stumbled by, followed by another, their blue robes a pace away. Both too blinded by smoke to see me. But, then a shout of triumph, and a stream of fire was arcing at me from the priest who’d first cut me. The smoke was becoming unbearable, but I still managed to send a wide blast of Skill against the assassin’s flames. When my attack knocked through his, he was sent hurtling back into the wall with a crunch. Unfortunately, that seemed to tap out my Skill finally, leaving me weaponless and powerless.

  Fists pummeled me. A lightning fast series of hits that traveled from ribs to face in a painful cadence. My head spun as the last connected, a curse coming from the priest who was laying into me when his hand broke against my skull. White light flashed across my vision before my head snapped back into place with throbbing intensity. The man was holding his fist in the other hand, wincing. Despite my spinning head, I slammed my fist into his solar plexus, taking the wind out of him. He sank to his knees gasping. From there, I wrenched at the broken hand, causing the man to let out a gasp before passing out.

  “That’s why you don’t punch people in the head,” I chided.

  Fate intervened, knocking the ego out of me when a foot snaked out from behind, taking both legs out from under me. My breath was knocked out of my lungs when I hit the ground. The foot came back around in a downward chop aimed at my head. It connected, but on my chest as I tried to get out of the way. A rib cracked with both the sound and pain of a hammer blow.

  Before the woman could inflict any further pain, a Guard issued axe swung through the air, connecting with my attacker. Holding its shaft was one of the late Councilman Turk’s Guard that Andreska had charged with making sure we stayed alive. He was flanked by half a dozen others from the same night. They looked absolutely petrified, but I’d never been so thankful to see that uniform than now. The traitor Guard waded in against the priests. Andreska must have made one god spawning impression on these guys for them to go up against a contingent of blue robes. They made a good team though, attacking in threes, not letting the priests catch a break.

  I’d lost count of how many were left. I tried to stand, but fell back down. I tried again, leveraging myself up with the help of a nearby chair that hadn’t been burned to a crisp yet. I heard the thunk of the door shutting, and the iron bar being slammed home again. We were all going to burn to death in here. My eyes stung with tears as I coughed against the ash filled air.

  Volant still lay only a few paces from where I left him. Blood pooled next to him. Small trails of it coming off the side of the raised platform made my heart jump up into my throat. I tripped heading towards him, a corpse obscured by smoke. I grabbed his limp, but uninjured arm with both of mine. A groan told me he hadn’t died yet. Not a single one of the blue robed priests seemed to be in the room still, having retreated. The Guard hadn’t fared so well, as only a few were left standing, searching for me.

  “Over here!” I shouted to them. “Trapdoor out of the tree. The priests are probably covering the front door from the outside to make sure no one escapes.”

  Volant was denser than I remembered. I pulled with everything I had. Another groan rolled
out of him when he hit a chair. Slippery, blood-soaked ground made it easier to move him as I choked some of my last breaths away. Only two of the traitor Guard had made it, but they found us. Neither was in much better shape than Volant. One thing at a time, the annoying voice in the back of my head advised.

  Step by step, we progressed towards the trapdoor. At this point, pain was no longer isolated to specific wounds or body parts. Everything was pain. Fire licked at me from every direction. Smoke had infiltrated not just my lungs now, but everything inside me. My stomach ached. I could barely breathe. Nose and eyes nothing more than receptacles of pain. Bruises and cuts merged into one, large all-encompassing pain. Before I knew it, and after what felt like an eternity, I found the door. I fumbled at its lip. It didn’t budge. I took a half step back. Volant’s limp arm fell out of my hand.

  Fists held out in front of me. I channeled the dregs of Skill up into them. I demanded my body to respond, and as the last bit of inner warmth bled into my hands. I shot my fists out. The door buckled downward with the blow, opening a black space in the floor. I picked up my most-likely-dead friend’s arm, and dragged him into the smoke free hole. Wood and metal scraped against each other underfoot, and I winced for Volant. The remaining Guards and I dragged him a short distance down, and then through a slightly slanted tunnel, gasping in the fresh air.

  A door waited for us at the end, and I pushed on it, falling through to land on my knees. Hands grabbed me as a light touched my face. Volant’s arm was taken out of my grasp. There was no resistance left in me.

  The hands weren’t rough though. Instead, they quickly but gently pulled us all away from the blazing tree. I realized there was more than one pair. More than one, less than ten, I thought. I wasn’t thinking very clearly. As soon as we cleared the first landing, I wasn’t even walking myself anymore. What definitely seemed like two pairs of hands carried me, while someone poured water all over my face and down my throat. A few splashes later, and my vision began to focus again. My pain level was unfortunately getting worse. Every step jarred a little lightning bolt of agony. I wished for the darkness, but it wouldn’t come. Too much pain. But not quite enough to give in to. Instead, I closed my eyes against it, and gritted my teeth.