by Osku Alanen
“My lady—,” the attendant said with an anxious voice, obviously confused. His eyes widened with realization. “Is that…?”
Alessia nodded. “Yes, Percevel. I have captured the assassin that murdered my brothers. Moreover, I bring important word to my father. Our nation is in grave danger, Percevel. No matter the mood my father is in, this cannot wait.”
Percevel bowed deeply. “As my lady commands,” he whispered, quickly retreating inside the throne room.
Alessia turned towards Raven and Avalon, sharing a wordless nod with them. Now, it was up to her to convince her father of the danger their kingdom was about to face. She thought about telling him of this mysterious heir but was reluctant to do so. Still, should Raven mention him during his private audition with his father, well, she would stand with him. Together, they would find the heir and, hopefully, forge a new road for their nation—a road that didn’t end up with their home in ruins.
The doors to the throne room opened and Perseverance motioned them to enter. Her father awaited there, alone, sitting on his throne. There was no music, no court. Only his father—and a pile of emptied bottles.
Oh, father.
King Robert looked at his daughter with a blank expression, blinking. “So, my daughter lives.”
Alessia bowed before his father. “Yes, father.”
“Pray tell me, daughter,” King Robert pointed at Raven, words slurred, “who are these strangers you have brought before me?”
Raven threw the unconscious man at the King’s feet. He shifted uncomfortably on his throne, frowning.
“The assassin,” Alessia said. She found it hard to suppress a smile. For all the grief she had endured the last few days, this was, without a doubt, a triumph.
King Robert opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He cleared his throat. “You left us without a word. For a while now, I thought you dead—another victim of the assassin. And not only you, the Captain of my guard, too, I lost. I thought I had nothing left—nothing but bitter memories of a life full of regrets. But now, for you to have returned to me against all odds—and bearing gifts, no less. I have underestimated you, daughter.”
King Robert smiled. It was something Alessia hadn’t seen her father do, not for a very long time. The man took Alessia in his arms, embracing her tightly—as if she was still a little girl. And for a moment, Alessia could feel her childhood return to her. The happy memories of both her father and mother were few, but they came rushing back.
“I’m so sorry, father,” Alessia said, struggling to hold back tears. To miss his father so… Alessia hadn’t even realized it. No matter how bad the blood between them had been for years now, they were still, without a doubt father and daughter. And a stronger bond than that was difficult to find in a world such as this.
“Hush now, daughter. You have returned to me and that’s all that matters.” King Robert gently caressed Alessia’s hair, his prickly, disheveled beard digging into her forehead. They stood there like that for what seemed like an eternity; it was a moment Alessia wished would never end.
Raven cleared his throat loudly. He then kneeled before the King. “Your grace.”
King Robert looked at the two men before him with wary eyes. It wasn’t Raven that his father was wary of, Alessia realized, but Avalon. She couldn’t blame him; she, too, had been wary of him. He stood out too much—a cloaked stranger with runes carved into his flesh.
“And you are?” King Robert.
Raven rose, keeping his gaze lowered. “A simple mercenary, your grace. Raven’s the name.”
“And you are the man who captured this assassin and brought my daughter back to me?”
“Well—,” Raven begun, but he was interrupted by Alessia. She judged the story better heard from her lips, not from one belonging to a stranger.
“Yes, father. This man here saved my life. The failure I felt after losing the assassin hurt me deeply. So, against your will, I left our mansion to find information of this man and the abilities he possessed. He could change his face at will, father. That’s how he got in to the castle undetected and how he escaped with ease.” Alessia lowered her gaze, unable to meet his father’s eyes. “But I failed. I got careless and somehow, the assassin found me. He took me prisoner, taking me away from my home. We traveled for days, until we came across a war camp, father. The Nubian Empire has invaded our lands, and they march for our capital as we speak.”
“What?” King Robert said, eyes widening.
Alessia nodded. “With the help of these two, brave men, I escaped my captors to deliver you this warning, father. If not for their help, the assassin would’ve escaped justice as well. You were right, father, the assassin worked for the Nubian Empire. We are facing and invasion led by General Rud’ak ner Aldruin of all people. We are in grave danger, father.”
King Robert remained silent for an eternity. His fingers gripped his so strongly they had all but turned white with the effort, so terrible was his rage. He breathed out heavily, reaching for a goblet filled with wine. He frowned at the goblet, taking a long sip. “This is not the first time I have heard of this, Alessia. I fear… I may have acted foolishly. Two travelers came before me, claiming the same thing you just said to me. I did not believe them, for they brought no proof before me.”
King Robert massaged his temples. “What a fool I have been. To have ignored a warning this sever… I have costed us days. Days we could have used to rally our forces. To bolster our defense. To stockpile food for the coming siege. Have I ruined us all with my madness, daughter?”
“Those were companions of mine, your grace—the men who came to warn you” Raven answered, worry coloring his voice.
King Robert nodded gravely. “I will make this right.”
A man with a captain’s insignia entered the room; it was someone Alessia had never seen before. She felt a lump deep in her throat. Because of her recklessness, Captain Severan lost his life. If only she hadn’t been so stupid, so thoughtless….
“Mobilize our troops. Send word to our provinces that the Nubian Empire marches towards our home as we speak. We are to prepare for a siege. Send word to every farmer, every citizen of our nation to seek shelter in the capital. Tell them to bring food, equipment, weapons—anything that could help us. Also, the man and the woman, the ones I told to imprison, I want them freed. At once. Offer them food, drink, clothing—anything they wish. And when they have recovered, send them to me.”
The Captain of the guard saluted, shouting orders to his men before departing the throne room.
“How long do we have?” King Robert asked Raven with a grave tone.
“I would estimate two days, your grace.”
“I see.” The King swallowed. “You have done our nation a great service, Raven. Tell me. What can I do to reward you?”
Raven bowed deeply once more. “I am but a simple mercenary, your grace. I desire nothing but a few coins for my trouble—and a moment of your time, alone, if possible.”
“Nothing but a few words and a bag of coin?” the King snorted. “You have done far more for my nation that I could ever tell you. We are in grave peril, yes, but you have given us a fighting chance. And mark my words, we will survive.”
“Percevel!” the King shouted, and the attendant came running.
“I want you to send word for all the houses. We are to hold a feast tonight. One last celebration before the storms reach out home.”
Percevel bowed deeply.
King Robert turned towards Raven and Avalon. “And you, my new friends, I expect to see at the feast.”
“Of course, your grace,” Raven smiled.
“As for this monster,” Alessia’s father looked at the unconscious man with disgust. “I should slit his throat with my own hands.”
“Father,” Alessia interrupted, heart racing. “May I have… him?”
King Robert startled. “You?” He frowned. “Explain yourself.”
“He took something from me, something I can
never get back. Let me be your blade. Let me act as you inquisitor. I assure you, he will not escape again. He can no longer transform himself. He’s but a man now—a prisoner. Mark my words, father, this man will face justice.”
King Robert nodded. “Very well. He is yours to do as you wish.”
Alessia smiled as she looked at Rubaron with a thirst she had never felt before. Vengeance is mine, she thought while strong arms carried the unconscious assassin towards Everny’s chamber.
She left Raven alone with her father.
Chapter 17
Arin
“Convicts Arin and Nijakim, you have been charged with the murder of a ranking officer of the King’s personal guard in cold blood. How do you plead?” A man dressed entirely in black asked.
This man’s—a judge’s—outfit looked absurd to Arin, but he held his tongue. He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “Not… guilty?” That was the truth, wasn’t it? But why did he feel such embarrassment saying the words?
“I see,” the man snorted, looking at them with disgust. “I should’ve known. Every man brought before me says the same. I suppose that’s all I can expect from ingrates, really. Well, I should have you know that here, in civilization, we do not tolerate your savage customs.” The man slammed his fist on the table, making Arin jump.
“You deny your guilt, but I have several witnesses placing you in the scene. Four of our finest soldiers claim, first hand, to have witnessed you murder their captain in cold blood.” The man looked at the guards posted at the entrance to this hall of marble, beckoning them to approach. “You have been found guilty, and under the authority granted to me by his majesty, King Robert the first, I sentence you to death. Guards, you will take these men away, for come dawn, they shall hang.”
One of the guards that had dragged them here sniggered, taking a firm grip on Arin’s bound hands. Arin bit his lip, fighting the urge to retaliate. He could, with ease, break the man’s nose. They didn’t have anything to lose, did they? Well, perhaps he should act the part of a ‘savage’ as their judge and executioner had so firmly decided them to be. Why should I be civilized, when you men—acting high and mighty—unfairly sentence two men to death, with no investigation, no questions?
He hadn’t come this far, endured this much, to have it all taken away this easy. No. He would either fight, or he would escape. Breaking these bonds wouldn’t be easy, but perhaps, with luck, he might catch the guards by surprise. Yes. No matter what, he would escape—not for his sake, but for the sake of Nijakim and his grandfather. This is not how he would let his story end.
Nijakim spoke. “Your honor,” he said, pausing for a moment. “We cannot in good conscience admit to a crime we have not committed. Instead, we would like a chance to prove our innocence by invoking the Old Law.”
“Are you certain?” The judge said, frowning. He motioned the guards to let go of their arms.
“We invoke the Old Law,” Arin said. He had not the faintest idea what the ‘old law’ was, but it was the last words he had heard his grandfather yell at them. And if Nijakim thought the idea worthy, well, they should try it.
The man deciding their fate groaned, looking Nijakim directly in the eyes. “For two strangers, you two know awfully lot of our laws. Not many a man knows of the Old Law,” he muttered.
“I am a quick study,” Nijakim said, grinning.
The judge snorted. “Very well. Your guilt—or heavens forbid—innocence will be judged in accordance to the Old Law. I am in a gracious mood, so I will give you a night’s rest—to prepare you for what’s to come. However, when dawn comes, your fates will be decided. Understand this, boys,” the judge lowered his voice, showing them a dark look, “there is no coming back once the Old Law is invoked. There may come a time you wished for a death as peaceful and quick as hanging.”
“We understand,” Arin answered.
The judge shook his head. “No, I don’t believe you do, young man. But, again, we are not savages here in Eyria. Here, our laws are sacred, and so I will grant you this chance—no matter how unorthodox. Guards, escort them back to their cell.”
***
To Arin’s surprise, they guard gave him his old blade back. It was a present from Elder Kelmunir, and it was dear to him. Also, this confirmed what Arin had thought: The Old Law involved fighting. Still, something about all this—and the judge’s words—made him worry. “Why do you think the man said we would regret our decision? Fighting to prove our innocence seems like a great thing to me, I should think,” Arin said, practicing different stances with his weapon. He was covered in sweat, determined to practice instead of reading a dusty tome like Nijakim had chosen to do. The guards had though it funny for the man to choose a book as his final request.
Nijakim shrugged. Luckily, they had been granted candles, and they didn’t have to spend their final night before the battle in complete darkness. Arin should have feared the coming dawn, but he was confident in his skills. No matter who he would face, he would prevail; it was not only himself he was fighting for, but to preserve Nijakim’s and the old man’s life, too. And that gave him strength.
“Perhaps he thought us weak or ill prepared? I don’t think the man understood how skilled in combat you are, Arin.”
“Still.” Arin said, lungs burning with exhaustion. He swung his blade forward, pretending the bars of his cells were his enemy. He kept the scabbard wrapped around his blade, lest he dull it before the battle—a grave mistake he could ill afford. “I would feel comfortable if you at least practiced with me, Nijakim. I know you don’t like to use a blade, but I know you can. It would ease my mind a bit, I think.
Nijakim sighed, closing the tome with a loud thump, careful not to stop on the candle resting on the damp floor. “There is but a single night left, Arin—mere hours. Soon, our fate will rest in your hands. No, brother. I know you mean well, but I would rather spend what may very well be our final hours doing something I love. I suggest you do the same, Arin.”
Arin laughed. “What do you think I’m doing right now?”
Nijakim chuckled softly.
The halls of the dungeons echoed with a dull ringing as Arin’s blade rebounded off the bars. The dungeons were spacious and the prisoners few, but it was enough for them to gather weak groans and curses. He found that he didn’t care; tomorrow morning, he would be out of here for good, and he had no wish to make friends here. He already had Nijakim—that was all he needed.
“Grandson,” a hoarse voice came from the cell next to them. Arin’s practice had woken the man—Arin’s grandfather. Arin shuddered at the thought. Could the man truly be his grandfather? To meet him here of all places… it was inconceivable to say the least. But he could not deny a feeling of warmth whenever they traded words—something primitive, deep inside his heart.
“Eldon,” Nijakim said, turning towards the old man. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“I’ll manage,” the old man said, clearing his throat.
Arin cast a quick glance his way, seeing nothing but a pair of tired, bloodshot eyes in the darkness. The man erupted into a coughing fit. His lungs sounded wrong to Arin. An infection, perhaps? Men his age were not likely to survive long in such a terrible condition, not without medicine. This was a man ravaged by malnutrition and sickness. Arin bit his lip, frustrated at his inability to help him. No one deserved to die alone in a cell, forgotten.
“I see you invoked the Old Law. Thank you, young Arin, for heeding my words. I feared they would hang you.”
The old man sat atop the mattress in his cell. He lifted himself up by taking support from the bars of his cell. One foot after another, he made it as close to their cell as he could. It hurt Arin deeply, seeing the man so frail. How could this man be his flesh? But try as he might, he couldn’t deny the resemblance. His chin. The high cheekbones. He saw Nijakim do the same as he did— compare the two men.
“Well, we’re alive, at least for now. All thanks to you, Eldon.” Arin answered,
sheathing his blade.
“I am glad. The way you hold your blade… I can see you are skilled. But I worry for you still.”
“What can you tell us about the Old Law? How should we prepare?” Nijakim asked.
Eldon nodded. “You will face the Champion of Eyria—a personal guard of the King himself. Overcoming him will not be easy, no matter your skill.”
“Yeah, well. You haven’t seen me in battle, old man,” Arin said with a smug grin. “You have nothing to worry about.”
Eldon smiled weakly. “Good, that will help tremendously, and I believe you, grandson. Nevertheless, the battle will not be easy.” The man paused, taking a deep breath. “In my time, the Old Law was invoked only twice. It is not unheard of, but it is uncommon. Not many a thief dares fight his fate against our most skilled fighter. Hundreds of men—thousands even—ill watch your every move. They will shout at you, throw things at you. The King himself might be watching if he is in the mood that day. But, should you emerge victorious, you will be pardoned—and both of you will walk away as free men.”
A thousand men watch my every move? Arin swallowed. He could hardly imagine a crowd that size. His palms were sweating at the thought. “I can handle the pressure,” he whispered. “I must.”
“Yes, you must.” the man replied with a trembling voice.
“Thank you for telling us this, Eldon,” Nijakim said, sharing a warm smile with him.
“I’ll tell you what, old man. When we’re free, we’ll do everything we can to break you out of this hole,” Arin said.
“You would do that for me?” the man said with a voice trembling with emotion.
Arin nodded. “You can count on that. Besides, I’d hate to end our talks this short. We are, after all, family.” Arin could feel the unshed tears forming in his eyes, but he tried his best to look strong.
The old man smiled. “I cannot than you enough, my boy.”
Arin turned away, stretching his aching muscles. He saw Nijakim yawning and they shared a wordless nod. Just like Nijakim had said, a few hours’ worth of training wouldn’t affect the result tomorrow; they should take the time and rest instead. For a young man, stamina was his strength. And tomorrow, he would need all the strength he could muster.”
