SWNOVELS Fireblade: Chapter 28
MARIN’S VOICE RINGS out clear and calm in the hushed silence.
“Your Grace. Forgive me. I confess to lies and treason. I am nothing but a common mercenary making a false claim to take the throne by deception.”
Stunned silence. Tandarion doesn’t move.
“You know the penalty for treason.”
Somehow Tandarion manages to keep his face impassive and his words steady as he makes a brief signal to two of the guards. They instantly step forward to grab Marin’s arms and drag him to his feet, forcing him to face the King’s justice.
I try to imagine how both Marin and his father can appear so calm. I can’t even begin to understand it. It must be something that leaders have to master if they are to maintain control in volatile situations like this. I don’t understand what could have turned Marin’s actions around so suddenly, but his presence now feels strange, different, as if most of his attention is focused on keeping the restless power fiercely controlled and concealed inside him. He seems determined now to maintain a kind of passive dignity when he could so easily break free.
His answer seems distant, almost disconnected.
“I know my life is forfeit.” His gaze moves to Alina. “Please take care of my widow. She had no knowledge of this.”
Thank the Five my sister knew nothing of Jantian’s plans or how they have gone so badly out of control at the end. Her utter shock at what is happening is visibly, painfully, real. And far more convincing than even her consummate skills at masquerade.
Tandarion gives an almost imperceptible nod of acceptance and steps forward, surreptitiously pushing Alina further into the background. His stony gaze is fixed implacably on the supposed mercenary who tried to steal his throne.
“Before I pass sentence, you may speak in your defense. You may tell the High Council why you did it.”
Marin’s words are quiet and yet have a compelling air of truth in them. “I wanted to win the battle and save my country. And… I wanted to seize the power and wealth I saw within my grasp.”
I can tell immediately that he is speaking with unguarded honesty. It is as if he simply wants to let go of all the lies that have brought him to this place. Now that the country has been saved, I sense that he just wants to reclaim a few precious minutes of the man he once was, before this burden of responsibility was laid on him.
Tandarion glances briefly to the Elders of the High Council before speaking again. There has not been enough time to confer in advance so he must be making up his judgement as he goes along and hoping the Elders will acquiesce to it.
“The penalty for treason is death. But in view of your service to Samaran in gaining victory in this battle, it will be commuted to branding and exile.”
I wait for someone in the High Council to object, either demanding greater severity or greater clemency, but no one speaks.
A wave of relief runs through me. I know enough about how Samarian justice works. They will throw Marin in the dungeons for a few days before the sentence is carried out, so that they can torture him for information on any co-conspirators. Which means that Shadow and I have a chance to get in there and set him free before the jailers get around to starting their unpleasant games on him. We can find somewhere to hide where the King’s agents will never reach us––
The guards are stripping Marin of his mail and weapons and tying his hands to one of the trees.
I can’t believe this is happening. It’s too soon, too rushed… This is not the way justice is enforced in Samaran…
And yet, maybe I can see the logic in it. Another of Jantian’s strategies. Get it done while everyone is here to witness the ending of the challenge to power. Confirm it first hand, before all kinds of false stories start to spread.
Before Marin’s powerful allies have a chance to break him out of prison, sparking ideas of civil war?
Seems like Jantian knows me only too well by now.
I look around, trying to see where Deris and Brac have gone to, but even Jantian has disappeared. At first I don’t understand where the masked executioner with the glowing branding iron has come from in such a short space of time but I suppose it all fits with Jantian’s focus on getting this out of the way as quickly as possible. Part of the plan to redirect attention onto other priorities, before the military commanders recover from the shock and maybe decide to rally around their disgraced leader.
I find myself clinging to the hope that Marin’s dragonfire will protect him from the brand, but the hiss and stink of burning flesh fractures even that possibility. Marin doesn’t move, even when the jailer’s whip flashes in the torchlight, leaving a bloody welt across his naked back.
I can’t let this happen. I know Marin can handle the pain but I also know that it will be much harder for him to deal with the lifelong scars this will leave. Cruel reminders of his supposed crime left carved into his flesh to haunt him for the rest of his life. I can see and feel his inner struggle, forcing himself to submit to this when he has the power to break free so easily. And yet he refuses.
Hells gates! I don’t have that kind of restraint!
I can feel the dragonfire rising, red-hot, incandescent inside me, fanned by my anger at the injustice of it all.
I hurl a great bolt of fire directly at Marin.
The tree he is bound to suddenly explodes in an orange plume of heat and sparks, flinging fragments of burning leaves and branches in a wide circle of flame and smoke. Screams and chaos erupt as people in the surrounding crowd are blinded by the flash and stumble around, trying to beat out the fiery embers stuck to their clothes and hair. I take advantage of the disorder to run across to Marin, my hood pulled well down as I dodge and weave between the crush of bodies.
The fire has burned through the cords on his wrists and I find him kneeling on the blazing ground at the foot of the tree. I throw my dark cloak over him, glancing furtively around in search of a way to get us both out of here unnoticed.
Impossible in this great crowd. Only those nearest the fire have been disoriented by the flames. Breaking him out of the dungeon would have been a deal easier than this.
“Shadow! I need your help!”
I sense his presence immediately, but he is holding back on the periphery of the burning. I know he won’t move closer to either form of fire until I have doused it all. I focus on suppressing the air that feeds it, only to discover that Zandar was right. It seriously drains your strength to do this for more than a few seconds. When the fire finally dies, I know with a shiver of disquiet that most of the force behind its suffocation actually came from Marin, not from me.
No matter, the way is clear for Shadow to grab both of us in a swirl of icy wind, only to drop us a few moments later in a clearing in the forest. I look anxiously around, hoping we have enough distance for a few minutes respite before the inevitable search parties start their deadly hunt. Looks like we are not far beyond the tunnel entrance on the hillside, barely a mile beyond the estate wall.
I have to fight the sudden exhaustion from dousing the fire. The only thing in my mind is the thought of how to heal the damage inflicted on Marin, to erase the marks, the permanent reminders of the indictment for a crime he did not commit. Tears are running onto my hands as I lay them on his lacerated shoulders and the cruel burn-welt on his arm. If only the dark shapes of the surrounding trees would stop swimming and fading in front of my eyes.
At last Marin responds. Only to set a restraining hand over mine.
“Ariel. Don’t. If you pass out from exhaustion the guards will capture you and the penalty for what you just did will likely not be commuted. There is only so much Jantian and Tandarion can do to work around the law. We have to move from here, as soon as you can get back on your feet.”
My anger is still boiling in spite of the clinging tiredness.
“Seems to me that Jantian and Tandarion have already done more than enough damage!”
Marin wraps the borrowed cloak around his bloody shoulders and finds a place to sit from where he can observe any change of movement on the lamp-lit grounds below us. He is trying to hide it but I can hear the undercurrent of wretchedness beneath his efforts to sound confident in Jantian’s handling of the situation.
“They had no choice, Ariel. Most people can only respond to simple stories, especially in times of turmoil and destruction like this. Jantian knew he would have to weave a narrative that was easy to understand and remember. And was also concluded quickly. Something that would give Tandarion the opportunity to persuade the aristocrats and peasants––and above all the military––into focusing on the rule of law and the priority of rebuilding the country.”
I move across to sit beside him, leaning against him in a desperate search for warmth and comfort now the whole world seems to have turned against us. Maybe just having some explanation would be a start, about why the last few hours have switched focus too many times.
“Marin, it’s so unfair. If your commander ordered you to take the crown and lead the battle, then you’ve done nothing wrong.”
He lets out a long breath, still staring into the distance.
I have never heard him sound so disillusioned.
“What I did was wrong, Ariel. At the end. What I said to Tandarion was true. By the time I had fought that army using Zandar’s dragonfire, it… consumed me. It took control, just as Eldrin lore said it would. That was when I knew I could take the kingdom. And I set out to do just that. None of that was sanctioned. It broke every oath I’ve ever sworn to defend King and country.”
“I know. I’ve been through it too. But who wouldn’t consider the possibility of staying in control of your own fate? I know it’s what I would have done. But in the end, you didn’t act on it. You gave your word to Jantian and you kept it. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
He is still staring at his hands. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m in pieces, not knowing who I really am. I didn’t really expect to get this far. My original plan was focused on winning the battle for Samaran and then getting myself killed by some stray Rapathian warrior. It would have saved everyone a deal of trouble. Including myself. Then I decided to escape with you… but after that rather public standoff with Dragar made even that plan impossible, the fire and the lust for power just took over.”
“What made you suddenly change your mind, back down, surrender?”
At last he looks at me and for the first time since I have known him, I see his hazel eyes full of tears.
“It was you, Ariel. Didn’t you know?”
“I… don’t understand. One minute you were about to kill Tandarion and then you stopped.”
“You were watching me, just like everyone else was. I was watching Jantian, knowing he would try something unexpected that I had to be ready to counter. And he did. He moved close to Alina, pressed a blade into her hand and told her to fulfil her role as King’s champion. Defend Tandarion.”
“But… that makes no sense! She’s no fighter. She wouldn’t have stood a chance against you.”
“Exactly. But she might have tried, out of her sense of duty to Samaran. If she had tried to fight me, you would have stepped in to protect her. Jantian was sending me a message, reminding me of all the harm that would inevitably come to you if I seized power. It was the only thing that could have broken through the haze of dragonfire that that had taken over.”
The wave of his love runs through me as I press close to him. Nothing else matters now, even if our future holds only hardship and exile.
“Marin, you’re still here and I’m here with you. That has to be better than being dead, or a criminal, or whatever else might have happened.”
He squeezes my hand but I can sense him struggling to find words that will sound convincing right now. Maybe it’s best to stick with practicalities. In any case, I still feel angry about the way our commander has handled this.
“Jantian said he would watch out for you at the end of the battle. Looks like he didn’t.”
“He tried to talk to me but I didn’t want to hear it. It was easy to avoid him, seeing as I was being mobbed by scores of victorious warriors. I think he just gave up and came back to deal with the situation here.”
“Why did you send Zandar away if you were already planning a power-grab?”
He looks away. “It was desperately hard. But I knew that if I stayed with him I wouldn’t have been able to hold back from destroying anyone who stood against me. Friend or foe. I convinced myself I was in a stronger position without him. I don’t know whether I could still do that if I ended up in the same situation again.”
“Do you know what will happen now? Are you sure Alina won’t be judged complicit in what you did?”
“Everyone’s focus will soon be moving on to the traitors that Brac found hiding among the Rapathian prisoners of war.”
Now fear for my sister is mixed with curiosity. The urge to go back and see for myself is overcoming the exhaustion. Marin reads it in the way I start to struggle to my feet. He pulls me down to his side.
“No! Ariel, you can’t go back. We have to wait for news.”
The need to know what is happening is overwhelming. I look up, searching for Shadow in the darkness, hoping he will grant me one more concession.
He has been standing in silence a few paces away all this time, watching us, a puzzled frown on his pale features.
“How does it feel now you are the outcasts, rejected by your own people? To have no place of your own?”
I know what his real question is. Why did we allow this to happen to us, why didn’t we grab control of the country we had just freed from the invaders? He had no choice in his own exile, never mind if his subsequent decisions might have made his situation worse. I can’t find words that would mean anything to him right now. Maybe I never will find them. Elemental lore is just different and always will be. I divert to what is uppermost in my mind.
“Shadow, can we use your mirror to see what is happening down at Blackthorn? I’m worried about my sister.”
He hesitates for a moment, visibly affronted by yet another demand on his skills. Then he shrugs and seems to grudgingly relent, passing the small bowl over to me to fill from my water bottle. His long fingers curl around the scrying mirror until the surface settles and the three of us watch in silence as the torchlit scene morphs into focus.
Lord Gullin of Yarkfold is standing in front of the King, his wrists chained with heavy iron manacles. He makes no response as Jantian reads out the list of his betrayals; so many of Samaran’s military secrets handed over to the enemy. No response when Tandarion passes the death sentence. The only sign that he has even heard the indictment is a tightening of his jaw when the King decrees his lands forfeit and given to the warrior-Queen who helped secure the victory for Samaran.
It takes me a few moments to work out that he means the gift is for me––or rather for my sister. Another device of Jantian’s no doubt, a ploy to give recognition to a war-heroine while at the same time getting her out of sight and out of mind in Yarkfold for a while, before any awkward scandals turn up to cause havoc with either her safety or the post-war recovery.
My attention is immediately drawn to Alina. She is still standing unobtrusively behind Tandarion and looks surprised and relieved to hear his announcement of this generous gift to her––but not as surprised as I am when I see what she does next.
Her movements are slow and subtle as she edges closer to the King’s nephew… until she is standing right next to him.
A brief glance and their eyes meet. A radiant smile.
Oh hells. Just what we didn’t need right now.
Sarinder is smitten. I can tell even from here, just from the adoring expression on his young face as he gazes at the beautiful warrior who has saved his country. That is going to cause havoc with the Khalim’s proposal to seal the alliance of our two nations. One of his daughters is already destined to be Sarinder’s bride and I doubt there will be political space for a refusal. Seems that my sister has acquired a taste for being Queen that neither Jantian’s promises of a spy-career as merchant clerk nor the royal gift of a rich estate can assuage.
I hardly notice the sword taking off Lord Gullin’s head. That issue is already in the past. What I’m looking at now is a whole new set of potential problems with my sister, stretching away into an uncertain future.
Then my attention is dragged away from Alina as the flickering torches light up the face of the next prisoner to be brought before Tandarion.
They have captured the traitor Farang.