The Kingdom of Liars

by Nick Martell

A step ahead of him, I took the heavily plated door’s handle and pulled as hard as I could. The metallic screech of unoiled hinges echoed off the walls and made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Dark shoved me aside and entered the room, Sirash close behind him.

  There were two cloaked men waiting for us behind the cracked war table in the middle. Dark, Sirash, and I took our places on the other side, staring them down. The only light came from behind them, casting their features into darkness.

  “Do you have what we asked for?” the one on the left roared, chest puffed out.

  “Which one of you contacted me?” Dark asked.

  The man on the right gave a nod.

  “Thanks.” Dark pulled out a revolver from his coat and shot him in the chest. The white smoke washed over my face with the stink of sulfur as the echo of the shot hung in the air. The man looked puzzled for a moment and then crumpled to the floor, dead. “What were you asking, again?”

  Stammering, the man said, “Y-You killed him? He contacted you!”

  “And now he’s dead. I’m assuming you have the real information. He’s got the fake version, right? Hand it over before I start hacking off your fingers. I’m not very patient.”

  The shaking survivor placed a large brown envelope on the broken table. Dark nudged my shoulder for me to collect it, and I did as I was told, my eyes fixated on the pool of blood forming beneath the dead man. Envelope in hand, I returned to Dark’s side, only then understanding what he had meant about us all being monsters, some just more honest than others.

  Dark took out a letter from his jacket and tossed it to the survivor. “Might want to dispose of that body. Evokers don’t take too kindly to murders in Hollow.”

  * * *

  We were back in the great hall before I spoke. “You killed him.”

  “I told you I was going to,” he said casually.

  “Why?” Sirash asked.

  Dark stopped. “Would you feel better if I told you the man I killed was a murderer, rapist, and dog kicker?”

  Neither of us responded.

  “Well, he wasn’t,” Dark declared. “He was probably a decent man. Had a family, friends, maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend, or a wife or a husband, and he was on the wrong side of things tonight. He put his faith in people that couldn’t protect him, and I was just protecting myself. Neither of you should be shocked: I told you at the beginning of this what I was going to do. It’s not my fault if you thought I was lying.”

  “Just pay us and tell us where the envelope needs to go,” Sirash said levelly.

  I couldn’t look at Sirash. We’d never done anything like this before, no matter how desperate things had gotten. I hoped it was worth it.

  Would I be willing to go this far to protect my family and its legacy?

  “Fine,” Dark said. “Let me see the envelope and then I’ll—”

  “Drop your weapons and raise your hands so I can see them! We will shoot if you don’t!”

  Shouts filled the great hall as a cascade of lanterns sparked to life in unison along the walls, and troops poured from every entrance and exit. We were surrounded in an instant. I couldn’t see how many people were around us, as the shadows seemed to double the presence they had in the room. I quickly lifted my shaking hands and the envelope into the air, then glanced toward Dark. He was shaking his head and rubbing his brow.

  “These senile imbeciles,” he sneered. “They sent Advocators to arrest me again?”

  My heart felt lodged in my throat, and all I could see in the darkness were the glimmering tips of the bolts, aimed at us from the upper floor. We were fish in a barrel.

  “Who is in command here?” Dark shouted.

  A voice came from one of the balconies that wrapped around the room. “I am Franz Russel, lieutenant of the Executioner Division of Scales, here to bring you to justice for the multitude of crimes you have committed in our fair city. Lay down your weapons, Mercenary, and we will not immediately kill you where you stand.”

  “Under what law or prophet do you think you have the right to try to arrest me?” Dark asked. “I am a Mercenary. I stand outside the law, and if you have charges to level against me, you can politely take it up with Orbis Company. They might use your complaint to wipe their asses. It’s a great honor.”

  “Lay down your weapons and leave Hollow for good or we will shoot!”

  With a big smile on his face, Dark muttered to us, “When it begins, don’t move, or I can’t guarantee what will happen. And, Kingman, if you value your life, then don’t let go of that envelope. Understand?”

  We nodded. We had no choice but to do as we were told. Me especially. If Scales caught me working with a Mercenary… well, I doubted they would be content with just arresting me. I hoped they’d let me choose where I wanted to have my head cut off. In front of the castle would allow me to curse the king one last time, but on the steps of the Church of the Wanderer would be more consistent with the family legacy.

  I wondered if my brother would kill me himself.

  “You have all made a grave mistake tonight,” Dark explained. “You may be members of Scales, but right now you’re nothing more than vigilantes in the darkness. Your king can’t support you unless he wants a war against every single Mercenary company on the continent.” He bared his teeth. “So I’ll save everyone the trouble and kill you all myself.”

  The hall was plunged into darkness, as if all the light had been banished, and it began.

  Even though my eyes were open, I couldn’t make out what was happening. None of my childhood lessons about Mercenaries had prepared me for this. I was only able to pick out bits and pieces of the battle amidst the chaos, my senses overwhelmed. Claws scratched at the stone walls as the screams intensified. Bolts whizzed through the air and smacked against the floor and walls. Lightning crackled, ice shattered, stone crumbled, and metal snapped against metal. The heat in the room fell and rose in such sharp contrasts that at one moment I was sweating and the other I was shivering. The only thing that was constant were the screams for help from the Advocators as orders were being shouted.

  “Who do you think you are to try and ambush me?” Dark shouted, his voice rumbling.

  My eyes finally adjusted, and I saw what was happening. The darkness and the shadows seemed alive in the great hall, taking shapes of twisted hands and the silhouettes of people, creeping and dancing along the walls like water running through cracks. Advocators, in a flash of lightning, were swinging their swords against the shadows, the metal slipping through them as if it were mist. Others were thrown screaming off the upper floor before a distinctive crack echoed off the walls.

  Dark was at the heart of it all, his hands orchestrating the movements of the shadows and darkness within the keep. His eyes were wild, lost within the picture he was painting, the shadows his instruments and the screams his music. This was the destruction a single Mercenary could create. I couldn’t even imagine what Vurano had looked like when it had been attacked by an entire company of them.

  “Michael,” Sirash said, crawling beside me. “You need to go! You can’t be caught here!”

  “Sirash, I can’t—”

  “Go!” he bellowed. “I’ll take care of myself and it’s my fault you’re here! Go!”

  Dammit. I did the only thing I could: I ran, my patchwork boots slipping across the floor as if it were ice. I scrambled for the nearest door, my old room, and slammed my shoulder into the door. The frozen, rusted hinges snapped, and I fell with the heavy door to the ground.

  The Mercenary saw me. His eyes were burning red like a tweeker’s. “Michael!”

  With the door beneath me, I ran over it and through my cobweb-covered room toward the exit. I smashed through the window, envelope in my left hand and right forearm covering my eyes. The glass created a thousand small cuts in my skin as it shattered.

  When I landed, there was no salvation, only a crossbow pointed at my chest.

  * * *

  “No sudden movements,
or I’ll shoot,” my assailant said.

  I stood up slowly with my hands raised. That was when I realized who it was: Naomi, the ambitiously cruel girl who had lied about her mother’s death.

  “Michael Kingman?” she said, almost lowering her crossbow, and then with more iron in her voice she continued, “Michael Kingman, it is with great pleasure that I—”

  “Wait! You have to let me go.”

  She hesitated, if only to humor me, slightly lowering her crossbow. It was aimed at my gut instead of my chest. It wasn’t much better. “What?”

  “Let’s make a deal. In exchange for letting me go and pretending you never saw me tonight.”

  “What could you offer me?” she asked, her disgust evident. “Arresting you right now would make it quite easy to convince others you were working with the rebels. I’d be a hero.”

  “A hero for a day,” I said. “Arrest me here, and tomorrow I will go down in history as the Rebel Kingman. While you’ll be forgotten—no matter how hard you try to remain relevant—overshadowed by what I’ve done. Or you can work with me and experience what it’s like for the world to know your name.”

  The glint I had seen in her eye was back, sharper than before.

  Pressing my luck, I pointed to the crown patch on her lapel. “That means you’re participating in the Endless Waltz, right? Well, so am I.”

  At long last she lowered the crossbow. “You can’t be.”

  “No one knows yet. It’s going to be a surprise. But, either way, for someone who lacks a noble family name like you do… well, I think you should let me court you during the Endless Waltz. Even though I’m a traitor, it’ll still raise your position. High Nobles will look at you differently. They’ll see you as a potential partner, rather than another commoner trying to rise above their position. And imagine the reaction, the attention, if you spurn my interest in you.”

  Naomi tapped her finger against the crossbow. “Why should I trust you?”

  “You’ll have to take my word.”

  “Your family’s word has been worthless for years. I need something tangible as collateral.” Her eyes fell on my father’s ring. “That ring. I want that.”

  I put my hands down. “No.”

  I’d rather be shot than give up my father’s ring.

  “You’re not really in a position to argue with me,” she said. “Is that ring worth your life? I’ll even be nice and give it back to you once I see you at Ryder Keep for the Endless Waltz. Consider it a loan if it makes you sleep better at night.”

  As I played with my father’s ring, the screams from inside Kingman Keep had disappeared. One side had won, and I really had no desire to find out which. Having seen me run, I doubted Dark would be any more merciful than Scales.

  Dammit, I didn’t have any other choice.

  I slid my father’s ring off my middle finger, hesitated, and then put it in her hand. “If you lose that ring, I’ll find your house and burn it down to the ground.”

  “Noted,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll see you soon, Michael Kingman. Don’t be late to the Endless Waltz.”

  I sprinted away from her and Kingman Keep. I didn’t stop running when it was out of my sight, or when the ringing in my ears stopped, or even when I felt blood trickle down my arms from the cuts left by the broken window. Only when my breath faded, my legs tightened, and my fingers were numb did I stop and find a seat on the curb outside of the last place anyone would ever find me.

  Only then did I realize how well I had followed Dark’s instructions. His envelope was still in my hand, with deep creases where my fingers had held on to it for dear life. I set it down beside me, wiped the sweat off my brow with shallow breaths, and ran through the night again in my mind. I was an accomplice to a murder, didn’t get the money Sirash desperately needed, and was an eternal failure who couldn’t protect himself, let alone his family.

  Then there was what Dark had done in Kingman Keep. He had used both Ice and Darkness Fabrications, but every rule I knew about Fabrications said that was impossible. Fabricators only had one specialization. Yet I had seen him break the rules, and I had no idea how or why yet.

  I hoped Sirash had escaped. I hoped he was safe, but since it would be days before I could see him in person, all I could do was hope. Then there was the deal I had just made with Naomi, a girl who I knew absolutely nothing about except for her name and the fact she had my father’s ring. My finger felt naked without it.

  And I had just stolen from a Mercenary, who was most likely going to kill me for what I had done, even if I hadn’t meant to.

  Curious as to what we had risked our lives for, I opened Dark’s envelope and pulled out a random piece of paper enough to read a line in the middle of the page: It should be noted in the report that David Kingman was arrested without problems.

  “Michael.”

  Shivers went down my spine. Had Dark found me?

  It was my brother, Lyon. I shouldn’t have knocked on his patrol house’s door before trying to collect my thoughts.

  “Michael? What’re you doing here? It’s late.”

  One thing I had learned from conning nobles was how important it was to always have a backup plan. Especially when the person who held my fate in her hands had already shown herself capable of twisting the truth to fit her desired narrative.

  I needed an alibi for tonight.

  And my executioner brother was going to give me one.

  EXTENDED FAMILY

  “You want what?” my brother said as he paced in front of me. “How much trouble are you in, that coming to me was your best option?”

  “Enough. But not so much I’d go to Angelo. I wouldn’t be here at all if I wasn’t on probation. I got into a little trouble tonight and need an alibi. Just in case.”

  “Just in case? That doesn’t make me feel any better, Michael. I’ve told you to stop coming to the executions months ago. I knew something like this would happen eventually. That rebel who yelled our father’s name only made it easier for them to frame us.”

  “And I told you to stop acting like the nobility’s lapdog and ruining what little respect we still have in the city.”

  Lyon ignored me as I sat on the curb, Dark’s envelope rolled and stuffed in my back pocket before he could see it. His treason brand was stark, right above his eyebrow, since the king decreed as the oldest his had to be the most visible.

  “Get up.”

  “Are we going somewhere? No, thanks. I’m tired and want to go back home. I just need you to—”

  Lyon glanced at me and I was silent. “You want an alibi or not? This will give you one that will be more than just my word to protect you.”

  “And where is this mysterious place you’re taking me to?”

  My brother didn’t respond, tugging me to my feet instead. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  “Have I mentioned that—”

  “Unless you’re about to thank me, I don’t want to hear it.”

  As I followed my brother through the streets—only stopping to wash the blood off—I barraged him with questions that were met with short answers, a few words at most and a sentence if I was lucky. It was only when we were near the Upper Quarter that my questioning became more frantic.

  I had always feared that his noble-dog façade wasn’t a lie. That one day he might turn against my family after seeing how far he could advance without me, Gwen, and our mother holding him back.

  “Why are we in the Upper Quarter so late at night? What’re you hiding from me?” I asked.

  My brother didn’t even give me a one-word answer this time, walking into a long, low building that seemed out of place. I followed silently into a plainly decorated room, a few chairs scattered about it. One of them was occupied by a blond-haired boy my age wearing black-and-yellow-striped nightwear and reading a book, using his finger as a guide. He looked like a bee and smelled of smoke and embers. Something about him nagged at the back of my mind, and I wasn’t sure why.

&n
bsp; “Kai, it’s Lyon,” my brother said, approaching the stranger. “Is Kayleigh still in there?”

  The boy nodded. “They were finishing up. They will be done in a few minutes. You may join them if you desire.”

  “Is someone going to explain to me what’s going on?”

  Lyon ignored me. “I’ll be right back. Kai, make sure my brother doesn’t leave.”

  As I cursed at him, Lyon went through a door on the other side of the room, closing it behind him. With little else to do, and needing an alibi, I took a seat beside the boy.

  “Did you get dragged out of bed or something?” I asked.

  “I was in a hurry this morning and made a mistake. Thought I grabbed other clothes and didn’t realize I was in my nightwear until I left my home. I suppose I should be glad they are presentable rather than threadbare and full of holes.”

  “How’d you manage that? Can’t you see the difference? Are you bli—”

  The boy turned to me, and he was. His eyes were the color of murky water, and I finally glanced at his book and saw each letter had bumps, allowing someone to determine what letter they were reading by touch. He was blind, and I had made a joke about it.

  “I am so sorry,” I exclaimed, almost choking on my own breath. “I was just trying to make a joke. I am so sorry.”

  The boy didn’t respond.

  “Could we start again? I’m Michael.” I paused, then added, “Michael Kingman. Pleasure to meet you.”

  He closed his book. “I’m Kai Ryder. I’m surprised I haven’t seen more of you since your father’s execution. The Kingman family was never good at hiding. They’re usually on the front lines when a conflict arises.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s hard to be anything more than a traitor’s son when the only interaction my family has with the nobility is through my brother when he executes them,” I said. As quietly as I could, I took Dark’s envelope from my back pocket, opened it, and very slowly began to investigate the contents, curious if I could find more about my father. Since I was stuck here waiting for my brother, I might as well take advantage of the fact that the only person with me couldn’t see.