by Frank Morin
“But these lies are dangerous,” Torcall insisted. He was a clever man.
“If they’re lies,” Logan said, generating another wave of murmurs through the officers. Some of them began arguing among themselves. Good. Connor needed them to think, to dare consider the truth.
Just then, Ivor appeared, sliding into the square on a pedestal of mixed water and fire. Soldiers scrambled out of his path as he slid toward Connor and the assembled lords and officers. General Rory stood beside him, one hand gripping the collar of a miserable-looking Craigroy, whose hands were bound in chains.
Connor wasn’t surprised to see Craigroy. They’d probably caught him lurking around, waiting for Connor to murder them all and exhaust his porphyry. Then he could have approached with a bit of porphyry in hand and sealed his mastery over Connor’s soul.
The plan would have probably worked just a couple days ago. He couldn’t have known Connor had ascended and gained a bit more control over the rampager.
When they dropped to the ground, Rory gave Connor an annoyed look, then surveyed the assembly. “What’s going on here?”
Lord Nevan raised one eyebrow and looked down his long nose at Rory. “I might ask the same question. It appears you’ve taken a senior member of my staff into custody.”
Rory scowled at Craigroy. “For his own protection.”
Connor chuckled. Right. Otherwise, Craigroy would already be dead, which wasn’t a bad idea with that devious fellow.
Lord Torcall pointed at Connor. “This miscreant claims to be Blood of the Tallan, claims there are no unclaimed, that patronage is a lie fostered by the high houses to keep commoners in slavery, and that High Lord Dougal uses rampagers to murder his enemies.”
Rory grunted. “He covered a lot of ground already. Have you kept up?”
“You believe him?” Lord Nevan asked, looking stunned.
“Of course I do. Didn’t you see him transform back?”
Ivor held up a little leather pouch. “And we confiscated a bit of the secret affinity powder Craigroy used to force Connor to transform. He’d planned for Connor to lose control, kill us, and probably quite a few of you, all in an effort to contain the secret.”
The lords exchanged incredulous glances, while several of the officers started arguing heatedly. Rory spoke over them. “Connor is Blood of the Tallan. I’ve seen his full range of affinities in action. I’ve witnessed the truth about patronage, and I for one am disgusted by the lie we’ve lived under all these years.”
Craigroy tried to object, but Ivor jabbed him in the ribs.
Connor beckoned Lord Torcall closer. He seemed eager to step in front of Nevan, while Logan looked annoyed he wasn’t also summoned. “Will you enhance my voice?”
“Why can’t you do it yourself?” Torcall asked suspiciously.
“I was focusing on not transforming back into a rampager and eating your still-beating heart, but if you prefer I take the risk, it works for me.”
Lord Nevan chuckled and Lord Logan called, “Don’t let him cow you, Torcall. Call his bluff.”
Lord Torcall glowered back at Logan, but wisely chose not to rise to the taunt. As soon as Connor felt the telltale tickle of quartzite against his vocal cords, he spoke, his voice magnified until it boomed across the square.
“My name is Connor, and I am Blood of the Tallan.” He waited a few seconds for that to sink in. After the initial wave of shock, most of the soldiers and civilians drew closer, unable to resist the lure of seeing a legend come to life. Too bad he looked so bedraggled.
“I gathered you here to reveal a lie that has kept our nation shackled, our people enslaved to the high houses. Patronage is a lie!”
Connor explained, his booming voice drowning out the growing tumult as some people gaped, others shouted their refusal to believe, and many began arguing among themselves.
“You saw the truth with your own eyes. I turned rampager but returned. The transformation is difficult, but it’s possible due to a secret power stone. Many of you are Guardians. You’ve dedicated your lives to honorable service to protect everyone you love from your curses raging out of control and transforming you into the monster you just witnessed.” He pointed to the bag of porphyry that Ivor held aloft. “Patronage is a lie. Now that you know the truth, you are free!”
That generated ripples of conversation all around the square as soldiers discussed, debated, and argued with each other. Connor easily picked out the Petralists among the crowds. Those were the ones shouting that he had to be lying. The foundation of their entire world was threatened and they reacted exactly like the men and women from the Carraig when he shared the truth with them outside of Altkalen.
Many of the Guardians looked doubtful. He didn’t blame them. Patronage was such an enormous lie, the truth changed everything.
Ivor stepped close and muttered, “You realize you’ve wrecked our timeline, right?”
“The opportunity is here. Take it,” Connor urged.
Ivor sighed and gave him an annoyed look. “Next time we agree that I’m responsible for overthrowing the current world order, don’t feel like you have to help, all right?”
“Are you going to whip them all into a revolution frenzy, or do I have to get even more creative?”
“Oh, no. Do not even consider leveling this city.”
Connor made a sweeping bow and gestured Ivor to take his spot, with every eye fixed on him. “Be my guest.”
55
The Hammer Falls
Connor allowed a smile as Ivor said, “Torcall, please magnify my voice.”
The man glanced at Nevan and demanded, “Aren’t you going to do something?”
“What would you have me do?” Lord Nevan asked, looking shaken, but still remarkably calm. He’d proven himself a level-headed, competent administrator at the Carraig. Connor felt grateful that he wasn’t calling for armed resistance to silence them.
Rory said sternly, “Torcall, you either do what you’re told, or I’ll throw you in jail right now.”
Torcall paled under Rory’s threatening stare and surrendered. Ivor’s voice boomed across the square. “This is Commander Ivor. You all know me. I’ve investigated these claims, and I confirm what Connor said. Patronage is a lie.”
Rory spoke next. “And as your commanding general, I also confirm that patronage is a lie.”
Those announcements fueled a flurry of growing arguments. Connor watched the crowd closely. The huge square was filled to bursting, while more people were pushing in from every street. Ranks of soldiers formed the inner cordon, and they had drawn to within fifty feet on every side, thousands of men and women who looked stunned by what they were hearing.
Connor doubted anyone had contemplated over breakfast how best to react to world-shaking news if it got dumped in their laps. He’d have to encourage Rory to train his forces to be a bit more mentally flexible. More and more of the Guardians looked like they were believing. With so many witnesses from men they trusted, how could they not?
“You’re all lying,” Craigroy stated, his voice disgusted. “And as High Lord Dougal’s chief adviser, I have no choice but to order your arrests.”
Connor advanced on him. “I’m going to give you one chance to speak the truth for the first time in your life. You confess, or I’ll transform again and rip out your throat.”
“That would prove nothing,” Craigroy scoffed.
“Wouldn’t it? If unclaimed is real, then I’m not responsible for that action. It’s High Lord Dougal’s fault for denying me patronage. I’d remain a monster and I’d have to be destroyed.”
He stepped closer. “But if I kill you then return to human form again, I prove you’re a liar. Either way, you’re still dead.”
Craigroy seemed to deflate. “I hate working with amateurs. You don’t understand the rules at all.”
Connor smiled. “Today all the rules change. Now confess.”
The spy master still hesitated, so Connor took the bag of porphyry from Ivor.
At that, Craigroy glared but said, “Fine. I’ll say what you want.” He looked to Nevan and the other nobles. “Connor is right. Patronage is a lie. Now you all know the truth.”
While they digested the forced confession, he added casually, “And now your lives are forfeit.”
Lord Nevan did not look surprised, but Lord Torcall demanded, “What do you mean?”
Craigroy laughed derisively. “Patronage is the foundation of our society. What do you think the high lords will do when they hear about this little uprising? They’ll raze Merkland to the ground and kill everyone who’s heard so much as a rumor of this truth. They can’t afford not to.”
“Unless we stomp it out first,” one of the officers suggested. The man wore an under-general’s insignia with the soapstone symbol. He was tall, with a face lined from outdoor life, although his midsection was a bit soft. He probably enjoyed an office job now, but he looked ready to fight.
“Are you saying you plan to mutiny against me?” Rory asked in a deadly, soft voice.
The man hesitated and glanced to his companions for support. The group consisted of about a dozen high-ranking officials. The earth-nail woman looked like she agreed with him, but eight of the others were Guardians and they shifted around to stand behind Rory. The balance of power supported him, and the four remaining Petralists recognized it. For the first time, they looked afraid. Others across the square were coming to the same conclusion.
That small quartet of supporters loyal to the status quo slipped into defensive stances. They looked ready to fight for their lives, and the Guardians now standing behind Rory looked eager to oblige them. Many of those men and women were looking angry as they realized how they’d been duped all their lives.
Given even a hint of encouragement, Connor suspected they’d unleash all that rage on every noble-born person in the city. That kind of bloody purge would quickly take on a life of its own, and it could turn the day into a horribly bloody revolution.
Maybe Connor should have thought his plan through a bit more before jumping out that window.
“Stand down,” Rory ordered.
The officers standing with him seemed reluctant to obey, but they did so. The four noble-born Petralists looked relieved, but still nervous.
Rory gestured to the opposite side of the fountain. “You four, wait for me there.”
When they cautiously moved away, he summoned the Fast Rollers to surround Lord Nevan and the half dozen other lords and ladies.
“Do you plan to execute us?” Lord Nevan asked calmly.
Rory shook his head. “I need you, Nevan. Give me a minute.”
He gestured for Tomas and Cameron to take their noble prisoners a few paces away, then returned to Ivor and Connor and let them see his frustration. “This situation is about to spiral out of control.”
The thousands of other soldiers in the square were beginning to separate, just as the officers had. Small clumps of nervous, noble-born Petralist were forming, surrounded by hundreds of increasingly belligerent soldiers. If Rory didn’t do something to regain control, he’d face the first battle of the revolution right there.
The commoners outnumbered the nobles many times, but enough of the noble-born were Petralists that if battle erupted in the square, hundreds could die in the first minute.
Ivor said, “We can’t afford open fighting in the streets yet. We need to consolidate our hold with volunteers.”
“But we can’t let the Petralist officers run free, or they’ll plan an insurrection within the hour,” Connor pointed out.
“Let me handle this,” Ivor said. He gestured a Guardian Pathfinder to magnify his voice. She did so eagerly.
“Attention!”
Soldiers snapped into ranks, and silence descended over the square. They might be struggling with the ramifications of the momentous news, but they were still soldiers. The command in Ivor’s voice brooked no hesitation.
Ivor rose on a pillar of mixed water and fire. “You are all privileged to learn the truth first, but truth can be dangerous. The high houses have kept us all enslaved to their will through the lie of patronage. They will fight to silence all who know the truth and dare speak it.”
He gave them a moment for that to sink in. “They face a bigger problem, though. Their corruption has resulted in the return of Queen Dreokt from a centuries-long slumber as an elfonnel. She may be in human form, but she’s still a monster. She’s in Donleavy right now, murdering her own lords and ladies or brain-wiping them, ripping out everything that makes them who they are and turning them into dumb slaves with no minds of their own.”
Most of the gathered had already heard rumors, and now Ivor was confirming their worst fears. The truth about patronage threatened their livelihoods at some point in the future, but the queen threatened their families and their lives now.
Craigroy tried to protest, but Rory cuffed him. Connor edged closer. He planned to volunteer if Craigroy needed more pummeling to keep him quiet.
Ivor continued. “How long do you think it’ll take for her to enslave all the high lords to her will? Who next will become her target?”
Again he paused, letting the worry grow.
“We have a choice,” he declared. “Today is the day each one of us can choose how we will face the difficult times to come. Struggle is upon us. There is no way to avoid it. The queen is intent on total domination of every soul in Obrion. Then she’ll launch a war of conquest across the rest of the continent, using our blood to fuel her war.”
His voice rose in strength, echoing across the square. “But today we have a choice. You all know the truth. You all know how deep and absolute the corruption runs. The leadership of Obrion is festering like a rotting wound, but our country is better than that. I for one am choosing to stand up and make a change.”
He raised a fist high. “Today I throw off my shackles and fulfill my oath as Guardian. I swore to defend Obrion from all enemies, and today it’s clear that our greatest enemies are our own queen and high lords. Today begins the revolution. We will fight! We will free our nation and build a free Obrion!”
Cheers erupted from the crowd, with many of the soldiers raising fists like Ivor, shouting their oaths.
Ivor lifted Rory to stand beside him. Rory too lifted his fist and the Pathfinder magnified his voice without needing to be told.
“I am your general. I too swore to protect Obrion and I’ve dedicated my life to protecting and defending this nation. Today I stand with Commander Ivor and join him in raising the flag of revolution. We will topple the reign of the dread queen and save Obrion from our own high lords. We will make Obrion free!”
Connor exulted that the revolution was really starting, but as he surveyed the crowd, he realized with a heavy weight of dread that many of those cheering so enthusiastically would pay a heavy price to win freedom.
He was willing to risk his life, so he would not deny them the right to do the same. It was worth fighting for. That helped him feel better and he cheered along with the others. The soldiers knew and respected Rory, and many soldiers from other realms joined the locals in cheering him.
Connor whispered to the Pathfinder, who looked moved nearly to tears by the bold speeches. She nodded and started a chant, her voice rising loudly over the assembly.
“Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!”
Soldiers took up the cry, the sound building to a crescendo that shook the air. Although many soldiers seemed wildly eager to join the revolution, those little knots of noble-born officers were looking fearful. The four standing across the fountain were trying to slip back toward the crowd, as if hoping to escape into the city before Rory noticed.
Ivor raised his hands for quiet. “There are some among us who do not support the cause of freedom. They would continue to uphold the corrupt status quo, continue to support enslaving Guardians and support the insane monster who has taken the throne.”
Angry muttering rippled through the crowd, and soldiers again focused on those knots of nervo
us officers. An ugly feeling settled over the square, and Connor began to fear Ivor planned to execute them all right there.
He had to find a way to stop that. They couldn’t start the revolution this way. He might not be able to use his tertiary affinities, but he’d fight to prevent such unnecessary bloodshed.
Ivor pointed back at Craigroy, who was looking decidedly worried. “This man will attempt to twist the truth and regain control over your lives if allowed to remain.”
A pair of Boulders flanked Craigroy and they swelled with granite power, looking ready to smash him to pieces on Ivor’s command.
Rory said something to Ivor, who nodded. Connor moved toward them. Were they really going to unleash violence upon the city?
Ivor spoke again. “Our cause is just. We will fight for freedom, but we will not force anyone who prefers to live in slavery to join us. Study your hearts and ask yourselves what you believe. What is worth fighting and maybe dying for?
“To me it’s an easy choice. I’ve been to Donleavy. I’ve seen the insanity of the queen, felt her influence smothering my thoughts. She could have destroyed me if she chose, but she allowed me to live. Many are not so lucky. Despite the risks, I will fight for freedom.”
A fresh wave of cheering.
General Rory now spoke. “Any of you who doubt our cause have one hour to vacate Merkland. Some of you soldiers who have served so faithfully are from other realms. You are welcome to join us, but if you prefer to leave, do it now. Any who refuse to support the cause of freedom will be treated as enemies after that one hour window closes. Again, please help us liberate our nation. If you leave, I hope you will return to your homes. Stay out of the fight because we cannot afford to show you mercy if you choose to interfere.”
The gathered soldiers looked pleased by the offer. Over a third of them, including most of the noble-born Petralists, turned and fled. Soldiers could pack a few things and leave in less than an hour. They looked eager to escape the insanity that had just swept Merkland.
Craigroy looked stunned by the offer and when Ivor and Rory returned to the ground he said, “You idealistic fools. You should have executed all of us immediately.”