by J. A. Comley
A clamour of anger, disbelief, and fear erupted in the room as Larkel nodded weakly to the King. “Yes, my Shield has fallen.” His link to the Stones had snapped back against his mind like a whip.
He had felt it, felt the Shield being ripped from him, but, like at the square when the King arrived, when Starla arrived, he hadn't felt any interference with the Stones' connectors. Only then, no one had removed them, no one had tried to break through his protective spells locking them above the towers, so the control remained his. Not any more.
Impossible, he thought sluggishly, his brain still reeling from the added blow of Redkin's death, no one should be able to get past the protection spells.
The Baron's rusted voice cut through the din. “Now will you believe me, my King? This stranger that you set free has not only spread panic but removed from us our one and only defence and killed, murdered, one of the Order's oldest, most valued, Makhi.”
“Enough!” Larkel said, moving towards the Baron, Redkin’s thoughts about Ditte echoing in his head. He felt his grief gain strength as he realised Redkin had been investigating alone only because he had been too distracted by Starla.
The High Lord felt his rage bursting through his careful control, but he didn't care. Grief over his mentor's death and hatred for the Baron's continuous campaign against Starla fuelled his less rational side.
Magic, visible as icy-blue arches, reached out from him aiming for the Baron and Ditte. “If I find out that either of you had anything to do with this, or with Starla, there is not a creature in Trianon that will be able to save you.”
His softly spoken threat silenced all the murmurings and discussions about what should happen next.
“High Lord!” High Queen Zerina spoke, her husky voice cracking through the silence. Behind her, High Priestess Venashia shifted, metal glinting in her palm. “Will you really attack them? With no proof for your anger?”
Larkel met her amber eyes then Niden’s blue ones beside her and did his best to breathe out his anger and reel in his magic, though it still crackled around his staff and body.
The High Lord turned his eyes back on Makhi Ditte and the Baron, the latter seeming completely unconcerned by the threat just made.
“Your accusations make no sense. How could Starla have ki—” Larkel stopped, unable to say the word, his throat closing over in pain. “And how could she have removed the Stones? How could she have broken through the protection spells unaided?”
The Crown Prince shifted uneasily as Larkel’s magic didn’t fully dissipate. The look on his friend's face was terrifying. The rage rolled off him in waves, electrifying the air, his midnight hair seeming to be caught in a wind. Everyone but the Baron had shied a few steps away from the High Lord.
“I didn't say that she was unaided,” whispered the Baron into the silence, his cold, grey eyes locked fearlessly with Larkel's. “You, High Lord, are the only one who knew how or, indeed, is powerful enough, to disable the protection spells. You have already confessed to telling her things you had sworn to keep secret.” He sighed in mock defeat. “You let your desire hand our city over to a murderous bitch—”
A blue beam shot out from the High Lord's black staff, and Naleiya rushed forwards, her own spell arcing from her staff. Larkel’s spell hit hers and split, with most of the force hitting the floor and leaving a dark crater. The rest broke through her lesser power and hit the Baron squarely in the chest, silencing the rest of his sentence. Blood blossomed on his clothes.
“Larkel!” the High Commander said, placing a firm hand on the High Lord's shoulder even as the Baron collapsed, writhing in silent agony.
Eben took Larkel’s other shoulder and shook him. “She wouldn’t want this, nor will it help getting her back.”
Larkel met Eben’s eyes, usually dancing with mischief, now filled with sadness and disappointment.
“High Lord, remember yourself!” the King commanded, his voice still strong and filled with authority as those in the Hall saw their terror of the High Lord confirmed.
The Baron staggered slowly to his feet with the help of Ditte, his wounds being healed by the Makhi as he rose. The King's four personal Makhi eyed the High Lord warily. The palpable power he held diminished slightly, his hair falling limp once more, but everyone in the room knew full well that if Larkel chose to go rogue, there wasn’t any chance of them stopping him.
Larkel shut his eyes and concentrated on breathing deeply, trying to contain the sudden flow of violent emotions. Using magic against a citizen of Trianon was strictly forbidden unless they were proven to be guilty. He had to maintain composure, or his case to help Starla would be lost.
Starla, stay safe, please.
“Baron,” the Crown Prince began, a clear note of disapproval in his voice, “you cannot continue to throw allegations around. You can state facts aided by evidence but you cannot just accuse our High Lor—”
“Forgive me, my Prince, but you cannot allow your past friendship with this man to cloud your judgement,” the Baron said with a winning show of humility and loyalty. He rubbed his chest and stepped away from Ditte, his clothes still marred by the attack. “The evidence has just kept on mounting, and I can keep silent no longer.”
“Then speak only of this evidence,” the King ordered, finally moving his eyes off Larkel, “with no final judgement passed on anyone.”
Larkel opened his mouth to protest but fell silent as the King shot him a pointed look.
“You, High Lord, are ordered to remain here, to bear his claims in silence, and serve Galatia as commanded.”
Larkel bit his tongue, aching to be free, to go after Starla. He knew that he should have been declared a traitor right now for attacking the Baron. He was not Bound by Blood Binder to obey, but if he broke his word, he would prove all the naysayers right, losing those that had stood beside him since the night his father fell. His mother would never forgive him. He was High Lord, trained since it became obvious at five years of age that his powers were to surpass any on record. The King and council had ordered him to stay and protect Galatia. He could not leave unless all else failed.
The Baron took a deep breath, as if afraid of the gravity of his next words. “The first time my suspicions were raised,” he began in a compelling, yet still, somehow, dead-pan tone, “was when Larkel claimed to have checked Starla for Lord Kyron's interference in the dungeons, instead of following protocol and performing such an act before the King, within the Hall of Justice, and linked to another Makhi. It is no more than our law decrees, no more than I or any citizen of Galatia should expect from their appointed High Lord. I could not understand why he did not wait, until, that is, I saw how vehemently he defended her at the hearing. A stranger, unknown to all of us, and yet he defended her over and over again, blindly.”
There were soft murmurs of agreement with the Baron's words, most eyeing the High Lord furtively, still trembling in fear of him.
Larkel clenched his hands into fists, the wood of his staff hurting as it pressed into his flesh, and concentrated on his breathing again. If the King remained true to form, he would hopefully be offered a chance to address the accusations. He could feel his powers begging for release. Redkin was dead, Starla was missing, and they were wasting time listening to the Baron’s spiteful ravings.
“Secondly, Larkel offered to be this stranger's 'guide'.” He said the word awkwardly, as if that were not quite what Larkel had offered. “Why, I ask you, would our High Lord choose to be with a stranger to our city instead of concentrating on his duties to defend our city? Why, other than my fear that he has been bewitched, would he choose a seemingly-human girl over the citizenry of this City?”
Larkel's teeth snapped together. Many of the gathered nobles and Makhi were looking at him, anger coming through the fear now, agreement with the Baron plain on their faces. The High Lord, in whose hands they had placed their safety, if not their trust, had betrayed them again, this time for a stranger.
“Thirdly,” the Baro
n continued, ignoring Larkel's ever-growing rage, “he, by allowing himself to become more deeply involved with Starla, committed High Treason by revealing to her our secrets. He revealed to her the Queen's misfortune, a secret kept explicitly to prevent the very panic we now witness outside these windows.” The Baron made his tone become heavy, as if weighed down by the disappointment and betrayal. “He revealed to her how his Shield worked, told her about the Sacred Stones. You gave her access to your mind, again and again, letting her find knowledge she had no right to. And I cannot help but believe that was her reason in coming here.” He paused briefly as the nobles nodded. “Fourthly, tonight, she used tales of long lost Soreiaphin and magical amulets to get you, High Lord, to leave her unguarded, against the King's command. To have you, the King, and the High Commander – the three most powerful and important members of Galatian society – distracted while she implemented her plan.”
The crowd gasped.
“I left her unguarded because we were under attack,” Larkel bit out, unable to remain silent.
Slowly, the Baron turned to look up at Larkel, not flinching at the indigo fire that blazed in his eyes as he stepped closer. “You let her control you. You let yourself believe that she loved you. Now, you may just have handed the City over to Lord Kyron, left our people defenceless. Just as Starla intended all along. Was bedding her really worth it?”
Larkel felt his tenuous grip on his self-control vanish as the Baron uttered his last sentence. In one swift motion, he swung his staff around and smashed the butt of it into the Baron's nose. The satisfying crunch of breaking bone echoed through the silent chamber.
“Brother, control yourself!” Naleiya hissed, her eyes both pleading and angry as she stepped between him and the Baron.
“Larkel, please,” Commander D'Ordeley said sternly, “If you attack the Baron again, I will be forced to arrest you. Whether you use magic or not.”
The High Lord gave no indication of having heard his sister-in-law. His indigo eyes were still ablaze and locked on to the Baron as Makhi Ditte healed his nose. He knew her threat was empty. No one could arrest him unless he allowed them to.
“We will look into your claims, Baron,” the King said, his voice grave.
“What!” Ripping his eyes from the Baron and spinning around to face the King. “My King, please! You can't actually believe … give me a chance to address his claims.” He spat the last word.
Before the King could answer, another Makhi entered the throne room. Those closest to the doors gasped in horror and scuttled away from her.
She walked slowly forward, clearly concentrating on the floating object before her. Larkel felt his stomach knot as he saw that it was a book, and it was dripping with blood. A wave of pain followed as he guessed whose blood it was.
“My King, High Lord,” the Makhi said respectfully, seeming oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the room. “I was ordered to bring any evidence surrounding the murder of Makhi Redkin straight here.”
The King nodded grimly and motioned for her to continue.
Carefully, using a gentle brush of magic, she wiped the blood off the cover. Larkel drew in a sharp breath. It was the bird book he had given Starla just before leaving. His reaction to the book had been noted by everyone. His friends looked curious, the gathered people fearful and the Baron triumphant.
How carefully this has all been choreographed, Larkel thought bitterly, his overwhelmed mind finally piecing things together. This was it, the Baron’s final attempt at revenge on him. He was working hard to make Larkel into a traitor, stripping him of the position that had allowed him the power to order drodemions and Corruptions killed.
“This book,” the young Makhi said, turning her gaze back to the king, “was found beneath Makhi Redkin’s body.”
Another stab of pain shot through Larkel, quickly followed by rage as the Baron spoke again.
“Is there any indication of whose it is?” the Baron asked, though his tone made it clear that, thanks to Larkel's reaction, everyone present already knew.
The Makhi's eyes flickered quickly to the High Lord before she gingerly waved her staff, and the front cover opened. Inside, plainly visible, was the message Larkel had written to Starla.
To my beautiful Starla
You have made my life whole again, given it meaning. It is yours now.
I love you, always.
Larkel.
A shocked silence filled the hall. No one even appeared to breathe. Only the Baron moved, shaking his head knowingly, his faked expression of horror not entirely hiding his smug smile.
“Are … are there any other markings?” High Commander D'Ordeley managed to ask, her hazel eyes tight.
Still shooting fearful glances at the High Lord, the Makhi used magic to flip through the pages of the book. Just before she got to the end, Larkel spotted a jagged edge, the remnants of a torn-out page. He saw it, but he did not understand its meaning. His mind held space only for rage, for the deep, burning hatred of the man who had made Starla look like a monster, the intense pain of Redkin's loss, and the crushing fear at Starla’s continued absence.
He looked up at the king, desperate now for permission to speak. King Eldos gave Larkel a long look then turned to Zerina, Niden, and Venashia, who all gave him a small nod.
“You may speak, High Lord.”
Several nobles shook their heads in disgust, pointing at the Baron as he wiped his face clean of blood.
Larkel drew a deep breath, letting the ice claim his mind and freeze his anger. Emotions would not aid him here. He had to show the Baron’s claims as hollow so that he could get back to the task of finding Starla. Just her name sent a spear of fear shooting through the ice, but he forced himself to begin.
“Firstly, my finds in the dungeons were later corroborated by another Makhi, so there can be no doubt that she was safe. Next, I defended her at the Hearing because—”
“Who verified your finds?”
Larkel’s teeth snapped together audibly as the Baron interrupted, but none ordered him to remain silent as Larkel had been.
It is my own fault for attacking the idiot.
“Makhi Redkin.”
“Ah. Convenient that your claims can now no longer be verified.”
The rage reared in Larkel, far worse than anything he had felt before, shattering the ice that was meant to keep him from feeling. He hurled himself at the Baron, but not before surrounding them both in a hastily thrown up shield. All his restraint snapped and Larkel found himself hitting every inch of the Baron that he could find, while the few Makhi present battered against the shield, trying to stop him.
Moments later, an image of himself was launched into his mind. He recoiled from it. The man he saw was hideous, his face twisted in rage, his eyes, black pools, promising death. He followed the line of attack to the sender.
Naleiya.
She thought one word at him. Starla.
Larkel fell back, away from the bleeding Baron, and let his shield fall.
“Damn it, Larkel!” the Commander shouted, frustration etched into her face. Her guards hovered in the wings and the Makhi all held the staves ready, but it was clear that none wanted to start what would be an unwinnable fight.
The King shook his head and rose to his feet. “Your parents would be ashamed,” he said, his words biting as whiplash. “Would you be behaving in this deplorable manner if Calirra and Jari were here?”
Larkel winced.
“For their sakes, for the man I know you could be, I have been more lenient than perhaps I ought. Now, you have left me no choice. Niden, follow protocol, I must go and address our people.” With that, the old monarch left, motioning two of his Makhi to remain with his grandson.
Prince Niden wrenched his horror-struck gaze away from the bleeding Baron as Ditte once again healed all that Larkel’s fury had broken, turning his wide eyes on Larkel, all his boyish flare gone.
“We—” The Prince had to clear his throat. “Whatever has happ
ened tonight, whoever is responsible, with the shield down, Kyron's attack will come soon. We must prepare. All of you not part of our inner court, please return to your homes quietly. Baron, please collect our Registries once you are ready. High Commander Medara, prepare the Hall of Justice for a command post. We will gather there at dawn to draw up battle plans. Larkel …”
Niden’s voice faltered and Zerina stood, Venashia coming to stand beside her, the threatening hum of spinning metal forming a backdrop to her words. “High Lord Larkel, you are hereby stripped of your position and under arrest for crimes against a citizen of Galatia. You must hand over command of the Makhi to the next in line. The Makhi will restore order to the city, calm the people. But I am not foolish enough to believe that we can win this war without you. You will obey your superior and attend the meeting. Or do you mean to be a traitor? A son not fit for Jari, a hero of Wailing Shadow?”
Larkel managed a jerked nod, handing his staff over to the Makhi waiting, a symbol of his submission. The look in their eyes made him want to scream.
How could they believe Starla capable of such horrors? How could they let the Baron's lies remove him from power?
“Be there at dawn. Until then, you will remain under arrest. That is all. Everyone please go now as ordered.”
The nobles began to shuffle out, the Baron muttering about wanting to change his clothes.
Rubbing her temples, the High Commander began to give orders to her soldiers. Naleiya touched Larkel's arm gently, her eyes pleading with him to pull it together.
Eben came up behind him as three Makhi and two Guards tried to swallow their fear to fulfil their orders. “Don’t be who he is trying to make you.”
“Take him to the Makhi dungeons,” the Commander said, heavily.
“No,” Naleiya began to protest automatically, although she knew her wife had no choice, and that she didn't like it any more than Naleiya did.
Larkel let the soldiers and Makhi drag him outside. He welcomed the cold night air. It seemed to help clear his head, to stifle the remaining flames of anger, and to gently, but firmly, push his grief to one side.