Heddas Sword.jpg

by Hedda's Sword (lit)

  Tzigana looked like she'd swallowed poison. Maleta knew a long, loud discussion loomed large on the near horizon regarding that omission. Her heart ached for Wolf's loss. At least she had Jovan. Wolf had no one. "'Tis time to begin anew," she declared. She glanced over at Sister Reva.

  Sister Reva nodded. She held Cianan's sword out to him. "Jana wanted you to have it back, with her profound thanks. Take Sunniva to the courtyard. Let us begin."

  Sunniva struggled in Dagonet's grip. Raven drew her sword, held it an inch from Sunniva's right eye. The queen froze as the Sister stated, with deadly calm, "Come quietly, with a little queenly dignity, or I swear I'll break your legs and drag you by your hair, Your Majesty. Either way, you'll make it to that courtyard, alive."

  Watching Cianan sheath his sword, Maleta wondered what had transpired in the treasury afore the door opened.

  "The title is Sovereign," Sunniva gritted. But she strode in the direction of the courtyard with no further fuss. She stepped out onto her balcony and her surviving force all raised a cheer and dropped to their knees.

  Mother Kitta awaited them on that balcony. Her face could have been carved from granite and her eyes were flint-hard.

  Cianan dragged Jovan forward. Maleta's brother had eyes only for his queen.

  Maleta surveyed the courtyard. Night watch and guard, along with ensnared Shamaru, surrounded by guild and sisters and free Shamaru, all stared back at her. "This land has struggled for years," she began. Her voice rang out to every corner of the yard. "Against famine, against the winter cold, against rievers and dealers." She paused. Most everyone present nodded. These were truths both sides could share. "Against the oppressive hand of a queen who cared more about furthering her own power than in taking care of her people."

  Sunniva's men cried out their denials.

  Mother Kitta held up her hand. Everyone fell silent. "I have seen the latest victims of Sunniva's hospitality, the women and children locked away in the dungeons without food and water. Shamar has been misled and misruled long enough. I hereby accuse Queen Sunniva of genocide." She motioned Maleta forward. "I order her to stand trial afore Hedda, for crimes against Shamar's people."

  Maleta drew Hedda's Sword and gripped it with two shaking hands. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down. Cianan had his hands full keeping Jovan away from Sunniva, but gave her an encouraging nod. She saw his lips form the word elingrena .

  For you, Papa. "Once upon a time, I was a Kunigonde girl named Marete. Six years ago that girl died, and Maleta was born, reborn as Hedda's Own, Hedda's Sword." She took a deep breath. "What is Hedda's Mandate? 'To protect the innocent, the weak and helpless. To treasure our past and guard our future, the old and the young. To rescue the oppressed and avenge those wrongfully sent from this life. To punish the wicked. To fight so others don't have to, so we all may live in peace. For freedom, justice, and Hedda's glory.'"

  She swallowed hard. "Please, Hedda, don't let my personal feelings enter into it. Give me the grace to judge her on behalf of all. Give me the strength to handle what I learn." Maleta straightened as she turned to face Sunniva. "I hereby put you to Hedda's trial, Sunniva Shamari. May Hedda judge you worthy of your life."

  Utter silence reigned in the courtyard as Maleta placed the burning tip of Hedda's Sword against Sunniva's throat. Sunniva froze at the rush of icy wind, blowing back the gauzy curtains of time. Maleta saw a teenaged Sunniva arguing with her father about making Shamar great, greater than all other kingdoms. Her father on his deathbed and Sunniva running the kingdom in his stead, opening borders to merchants, improving the Marcou harbor for trade ships. Sunniva declaring religious tolerance for followers of all gods and goddesses.

  Sunniva smothering her dying father with a pillow to ease his suffering. Maleta heard that rationalization – thanks to Cianan's magic, they all did. Sunniva, crowned, ordering street lamps, paved roads, the building of the sewers, all done by slave labor and prisoners. She gloried in the praise of her improvements, her vision – at least at first. But she'd underestimated the cost. Even when she increased taxes and religious tithes to pay for it, people rationalized they invested in their own future. She convinced the council to create new ones when that wasn't enough.

  She didn't understand why they protested. Progress didn't come cheap. Couldn't people see she built an empire for them? Protests, even from her own family. The protestors, the dissidents, were put into the work details. When they protested, she dissolved the original council on fabricated charges and her own supporters stepped in to replace them. They created the night watch to maintain order. Sunniva ordered them to kill her own family and arrange it so the Wolf, her own cousin Von Berend, would be blamed.

  That she could never catch him drove her to distraction.

  When that money ran out and expenses threatened her personal treasury, she negotiated with the dealers for a cut of their profits. Stronger dealers weeded out the weaker. Sunniva turned a blind eye for a hefty bonus. Hard times forced more and more people into servitude, forced them to sell off land, possessions, and finally children to pay for food and shelter.

  Complaints arose even from her own troops. One of the dealers convinced her to try cloudwort on them. The results delighted Sunniva. Instant obedience, instant loyalty – after a bit of seductive persuasion. She became their queen, their goddess.

  Rumors of rebellion fomenting in the south reached her ears. An absent Berend served as a convenient scapegoat when she sent her masquerade army into Kunigonde. She sent half her force in as the Black Wolf's marauders, and when they secured the keep, she rushed in with the other half of her regular night watch and guard to "rescue" the survivors. If people saw how hard she tried to maintain order, they would cease fighting her.

  Maleta's stomach churned. She had been mere payment for that watchman. Maleta was relieved the sword revealed no more – it showed what Sunniva knew for fact. Sunniva didn't care what happened to Von Jereon's girl brat.

  She did, however, want Jovan alive and well. To show her benevolence, to keep a firm grip on Kunigonde's heir. To help her open the gateway to the south, a literal huge gateway that opened only to the family blood. Sunniva's guards tortured and starved Jovan. After each session Sunniva rushed in to comfort him, feed him, heal him. Over and over the pattern repeated itself, for months, until his mind snapped. Only Sunniva cared about him. Only Sunniva mattered to him. He now lived to please her, in any way she wished, and Sunniva gloried in that absolute power.

  But Sunniva'd misunderstood the stories. No matter how she tried to persuade him, Jovan wasn't the key. The gateway could only be opened by a female of the line. But it was far too late – Marete was long gone.

  Tears streamed down Maleta's face, but she couldn't wipe them away. Her stomach roiled. Jovan hadn't stood a chance. Her grip tightened. She had to maintain her hold on the Sword, to finish it. She knew there was worse to come.

  The famine hit, two bad harvests in a row. No money to pay for importing food. Too many mouths to feed. Sunniva had taxed the law-abiding Shamari to death. Hunger and disease ran rampant. She couldn't feed them all.

  Food and wealth awaited them in the south, if she could get there. But her little country couldn't sustain everyone, and she needed a bigger army. Motivated by hunger and dreams of wealth and ease, many Shamari sons flocked to her banner. A toast with cloudwort-laced wine sealed their fate.

  But the Shamaru refused, disdaining her reign and rule. They infuriated her. If they would not contribute to her kingdom, they would be removed from it. She ordered them to pay equal with the Shamari. The Shamari resentment their Shamaru counterparts were not held to the same standard caused tremendous friction. Sunniva encouraged it. She ordered the Shamaru men into her army. When they refused, she took their women and children hostage, forcing the distraught men's compliance with cloudwort. Many capitulated to the drug and her commanders' skillful powers of suggestion. The few who resisted the drug were locked away with the women and children.

/>   Or, as in the merc Cianan's case, in a private cell like Jovan, to await more intensive conditioning. Sunniva burned to possess Cianan. When he foiled her by escaping, she'd put up wanted posters, offered a reward. But like Berend, Cianan had eluded her. She'd underestimated both men.

  As she'd underestimated Nerthus. In total disregard to the leniency she'd showed religion, those treacherous black-robed women dared to harbor Shamaru fugitives, hiding the lawless within their abbey, sheltering them from Sunniva's rightful justice. She'd ordered the razing of the abbey, as an example to all of what happened to those who defied her. Rebellion would be crushed, pure and simple. Only those who followed her had a future in Shamar. But Mother Tam outsmarted her. All the refugees vanished, without a trace. Free Shamaru worried her. Anyone she could not control became a direct threat.

  They must be removed. All of them.

  There wasn't enough food to feed the prisoners. What little Sunniva spared for them was not enough. She hit on the idea of ridding the land of the lawless Shamaru. The men were placed at the front of her army – shock troops who would die in battle while their families were eradicated in the dungeons. A larger, more powerful Shamar for the Shamari people. She'd be viewed as the most powerful ruler in the world, and her people would glory in their newfound wealth and prestige. They'd thank her for this one day.

  Now she had Cianan back and Von Jereon's daughter within her grasp, the key to that accursed gateway to the south that refused to open to Jovan. Sunniva was so close to achieving her goals, if she could get her men to help her, to free her...

  All this swept over the courtyard. Cianan's seeming flared, and died, as the sword's power faded. Maleta stared in shock. Sunniva rationalized away every bit of the corruption, every abuse, every cruelty. A means to an end. The more people who died, the less she had to share.

  The courtyard had fallen silent. Men clutched their temples, shook their heads. They blinked their eyes as if awakening from a dream. They stared at their captors in bewilderment, as if they had no idea how they'd come to be there in the first place. One by one, they hauled themselves to their feet and looked around. One by one, they recognized a friend or a relative and began asking the questions. The truth seeped into their consciousness, and one by one they turned back to Sunniva.

  Not with fawning devotion. Not with declarations of undying loyalty.

  With a rage so vast their roar for Sunniva's blood shook the walls.

  Mother Kitta raised her hands for silence.

  Maleta watched in amazement as the men obeyed.

  Sunniva stared at Cianan in shock. She paled, as if she now understood the depth of her error. She saw her own life not as she perceived it, but how the rest of her country saw it. The truth at long last revealed, even to her. She turned to Wolf, Von Berend, her last remaining family.

  He shook his head, eyes hard in a mask of ice. No forgiveness dwelled there.

  Mother Kitta lowered her hands. "You have all seen the truth of Queen Sunniva's reign. Aye, she made some improvements to Shamar, but was the cost worth it?"

  "Nay!" the people cried.

  "Should Queen Sunniva remain in power?"

  "Nay!"

  "What is a fitting punishment for her crimes against you, your families and all the people of Shamar?" Mother Kitta continued.

  The word "Death!" hammered over them.

  Jovan moaned and sank to his knees, head in hands. Maleta wanted to go to him, but she had to finish her task as Hedda's Own first. Her heart ached. Always Maleta's wishes had to be secondary to her goddess'. Hedda had made that clear.

  Mother Kitta turned to the others on the balcony. "What say you?"

  "A death for a death," Tzigana stated.

  Wolf, Von Berend and Dagonet nodded their agreement.

  "In my opinion she cannot remain in power, but as I am not of this land I cannot vote in this matter," Cianan said.

  "She can explain herself to Hedda," Sister Reva stated.

  "Aye," Raven chimed in.

  Mother Kitta turned back toward the courtyard. "Shamari and Shamaru have suffered equally under Sunniva's regime. Only together can we work our way toward a new future. As Tzigana of the Shamaru and Von Berend of the Shamari have come together, so can we all come together, as one nation."

  Tzigana looked appalled, Wolf, amused.

  Mother Kitta turned to them and lowered her voice. "The Shamari will not accept a Shamaru queen, and the Shamaru will not accept another Shamari king, not anymore. The only way this will work is with co-rulers, a joint effort on behalf of both peoples. You will find a way to work this out."

  Sunniva laughed, a mad cackle with a frantic edge. "You'll never make it work. You would destroy all I have built."

  "A land built on lies and blood shall never know peace," Cianan reproved.

  "Go back to your little lives," Sunniva sneered. "There is no greatness there. Let civil war tear this land asunder, and know I will laugh from afar at your folly."

  Tzigana paled, but Wolf grasped her hands in his. "We can make this work," he said. "We've spoken of our dreams for this land, and they aren't dissimilar."

  Maleta knew neither Tzigana nor Wolf envisioned what amounted to a sword-point wedding. She tried to think of another way, but Mother Kitta was correct. The two halves were too polarized. They needed to be made whole somehow.

  Mother Kitta turned back to Sunniva. "You have been judged unfit for rule and are hereby removed from power, to be replaced by Tzigana Shamaru and Von Berend Shamari. The recommended and endorsed punishment is death. This sentence shall be carried out in accordance to Hedda's Trial." She nodded to Maleta. "Time to finish this, girl. Our people have waited long enough to be free."

  Maleta took a deep breath. "Sunniva Shamari, you have been found guilty of genocide against the Shamaru people, abuse and exploitation of the Shamari people and the murders of your own family and the goddess Nerthus' nuns. As Hedda's judge, jury and executioner, I hereby sentence you to death for these crimes. May whatever god or goddess you follow have more mercy on your soul than the goddesses of Shamar will. Give my regards to Hedda, Nerthus and Orthia." Gripping Hedda's Sword in both hands, she drove the blade through Sunniva's black heart.

  Jovan issued an incoherent cry and dropped to the ground in a fit as Sunniva's body fell. Maleta dropped Hedda's Sword and dodged Jovan's thrashing limbs to kneel aside his rigid body. As he cradled Jovan's head, Cianan's gaze met hers. She read the sorrow and regret there. Jovan gradually relaxed and stilled, but he couldn't be roused, no matter how much Maleta shook him or pleaded.

  Tzigana placed a hand on Maleta's shoulder. "I ordered a stretcher. Let us take him where he can rest until the healers arrive."

  "Take him to his room," Cianan suggested. "Post a guard."

  "I'll stay with him," Hajnal said. "He... he's always been kind to me. Let me return the favor."

  Maleta staggered to her feet. Cianan took her in his arms, holding her while she cried. Dagonet appeared with the stretcher. He and Sister Reva each took an end. With Hajnal and Raven trailing after, they carried him away.

  Mother Kitta addressed Wolf, Von Berend. "What would you like done with her body?"

  "Burn it," he ordered. "Gather up her dead and burn her body with theirs. Let them go to hell together."

  Maleta sniffled and pulled away from Cianan's chest. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Careful, or I'll make you rust."

  He smiled and stroked a hand through her hair. "It does not rust, but you are welcome to try. The tears are long overdue." He edged her aside as Sarge and the guild captain climbed the stairs into view.

  "We let the Shamaru prisoners leave with their people," the captain said. "The east wing's being used as an infirmary and morgue, the guard barracks a prison for the guard and night watch. The cloudwort's gone, but we don't know if we can trust them yet."

  Sarge stared at Cianan, hard. "Who are ye? What are ye?"

  "A friend. We shall talk about that later." He
turned to the captain. "I can help decide their trustworthiness. I can tell truth from lie. I shall meet you down there."

  The two mercs nodded and went back down the stairs.

  Cianan cupped Maleta's chin in his hand. "Go sit with Jovan. I shall see you later."

  She searched his face. "We made it. We're alive. The vision didn't come true." Her voice shook, her entire body shook.

  "Aye, we did. All we have to look forward to is the future. Together." His gaze burned into hers.

  "Together," she repeated. The concept scared her less than she'd expected. Somehow he made everything seem possible, within reach.

  "Believe in our future. Grab hold of it with both hands."

  Maleta found herself recalling that first quick almost-kiss and wondered if she dared do it again afore she returned to her brother. She bit her lip, uncertain.

  His gaze heated as it dropped to her lips. "If you do not leave now, I may have to kiss you right here in front of Mother Kitta and everyone," he murmured. "You cannot look at me like that, elingrena, and not have my eternal optimism take it as an invitation."

  She quivered at that lethal whiskey tone, at the warmth in his gaze. Her cheeks heated, and she knew her face flamed. He held her loose enough to release her if she wanted to pull back, but she didn't. He looked so sure in the idea of them she found herself wanting to test her own courage. His eternal optimism and her newfound hope. "Mayhaps it is," she whispered.

  His head dipped, and her eyes closed in anticipation mingled with dread. The first touch of his lips stunned her; she squeaked. Then all she could do was feel. His lips caressed hers, slowly, warm and firm. A tingling spread from her lips downward, igniting a warm glow deep within. Hesitant and unsure, she kissed him back, the slightest of movements against his mouth. He kept the kiss light and gentle. His tenderness left her shaking, melting, and wanting more.