The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2)

by Sethlen, Aron

  “Then Nero shifted to Pard and rubbed his body against Pard’s leg. This infuriated Pard. His eyes turned more wicked, and he viciously kicked the cat, it was the most depraved and coldhearted thing I’d ever seen in my entire life.”

  “Unbelievable,” Pard mutters under his breath.

  Yitch scowls at Pard. “The accused will stay silent. He will have his chance to speak when all the evidence is presented and the witnesses heard. Until then, keep your mouth shut!” Yitch turns back to Sully. “Go on, Lord Sully, sorry for the interruption. Then what?”

  “Then Lord Nox shoved Pard away from sweet Nero, and the cat leaped up into my brother’s loving arms to escape the madman. Lord Nox embraced and protected the poor animal. Pard’s eyes went full crazy, and they glowed aqua-blue—like solid orbs of bright light—the scariest shit—I mean thing I’ve ever seen. Then Pard lunged for the cat, flickers of electricity arced out of his fingertips. One of them even zapped me. Lord Nox angled his body and stepped away, but Pard was relentless, as if Nero murdered Pard’s family.”

  Yitch coughs and swallows funny. “Truly a tragedy that was, now keep going, Lord Sully Callahoo.”

  “Again Lord Nox tried to shield Nero from Pard’s attack, and when Pard couldn’t grab Nero out of Nox’s arms, a bolt of lightning shot out of Pard’s chest and latched onto poor Nero. A few seconds later, Pard’s face twisted into a ghastly monster and his body convulsed and then the light flashed and then, well, Nox couldn’t save poor Nero from what came next, nor could anyone else. Nero flew out of Lord Nox’s arms and—he died rather quickly it seemed.”

  The audience gasps, and a few people cry.

  Yitch slowly shakes his head in disgust. “Murder.”

  The audience gasps again.

  Pard sighs.

  Yitch nods. “Thank you, Lord Sully Callahoo, you have been very brave, you may go.”

  Sully slides out of the chair and strolls past Pard. He wipes a fake tear from his eye and lowers his head. Sully peeks to the side so only Pard can see his face. He sniffs and winks at Pard. Then slowly staggers off the stage while continuing to sniff as if he’s crying.

  Yitch points to the far end of the stage to Blaine. “I now call the next witness, also a boy of uncompromising character and honor, from a great family that is forging the path to the future of Bastin, Blaine Nabin.”

  Blaine strolls out onto the stage and sits.

  “Mr. Nabin, can you confirm Lord Sully Callahoo’s testimony that Pard Wenerly was in the west wing, attacked the three of you, and then killed Nero Yitch with a lightning bolt?”

  Blaine purses his lips. “I can. Wenerly attacked us and then killed Nero, just as Lord Sully said.”

  “Is there anything else you need to add to the testimony, Mr. Nabin?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Thank you, brave boy, you may go.”

  Blaine pushes off the armrests and strolls past Pard. He gives Pard a glimmer of a grin then disappears behind a red curtain at the end of the stage.

  “I now call the next witness, also a boy of uncompromising character and honor, son of Lord Callahoo of the Seven Ricks. Fifteenth in line for the throne of Bivmerin, Lord Nox Callahoo.”

  Nox, scowl on his pitted face, glares at Pard as he struts across the stage and to the chair. Nox sits.

  Yitch eyes Nox for a few seconds for dramatic effect, and he doesn’t say a word. His body suddenly flinches and his robe flutters. “Lord Nox Callahoo, can you corroborate Sully Callahoo’s testimony?”

  “I can.”

  Yitch nods and whirls away from Nox. He strolls back and forth across the stage while pinching his pointy beak-like chin. “But how can the council be so sure you’re telling the truth,” Yitch says this as if he already knows the answer, “is there any unquestioning evidence you can provide for us, Lord Nox Callahoo?”

  Nox lifts his robe sleeves and shoots his bare forearms into the air, exposing his scorched, blistered skin, created from Pard’s blast of light that struck Nero. “When Pard shot lightning out of his chest and murdered Nero, who I was holding and trying to protect, which I would’ve given my life for that lovely creature—and I darn near did—anyway, when Pard shot his light, it scorched my skin. I bet I’ll be scarred for life.”

  Yitch slowly shakes his head with compassion. “Scars of bravery, my dear boy, you’re truly a hero, wear those scars as beauty marks of pride and honor, reminding you and everyone else how truly remarkable you are for your selfless act of kindness and courage. Is there anything else you’d like to add, Lord Nox Callahoo?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then you are dismissed from this preceding, and I applaud you again, you’re the epitome of what it means to be a Fairstone boy.”

  Nox pushes out of the chair and strolls past Pard. He glares as he sweeps his hand over his mouth, and slightly circles his chin, sticking out his finger and slicing his throat so only Pard can notice.

  Yitch opens his arms toward the council. “My colleagues, my friends, that is all the evidence and witness testimonies for the prosecution. This compelling evidence proves beyond a shadow of a doubt of the guilt of the accused, Pard Wenerly. This guilt is apparent by an overwhelming margin.” Yitch eyes each professor on the panel. “Unless there is any further evidence to provide to the contrary.”

  No one says a word.

  Yitch faces Pard. “Do you have any evidence to deny the charges and claims made against you? You may speak now before the council renders its decision.”

  Pard’s stomach clinches into a knot and sharp pain pulses. Nauseous sensations rise to the surface, and his head still pounds and is in a fog from last nights dance with the crossbones. He can’t believe this rubbish, and then it hits him, Screw this place, I don’t need this school, or Yitch, or anyone else in this mockery of a charade. Even if I am destroyed, this is crap. Pard gives up all hope of saving himself and let’s out what his mind is thinking. “This is garbage, Yitch. Whatever.”

  Yitch smiles, victory now firmly within his grasp, Pard out of Fairstone and three hundred newly minted gold coins in his coffers. “Let the record note that the accused Pard Wenerly has no defense or even denies the claims put forth against him.”

  Pard looks up and finds Professor Videl's sad eyes, and they tell him all he needs to know, shame, and Pard’s time at Fairstone has come to an end.

  Yitch stands at the edge of the stage and looks out over the audience. “If there is anyone here that can add to the proceeding either for or against the accused, please speak now or forever hold your peace. If no one comes forth in the next minute, the judgment will be rendered.” Yitch clicks open his golden pocket watch, golden chain dangling from his robe.

  Pard stares at Yitch as Yitch stairs at the clock face, counting down to his victory.

  The audience is silent, only breathing and anxious shuffling in seats returns as evidence.

  Pard grips the wooden railing in front of him, his knuckles red and white, all he cares about is getting out of this cathedral and far away from Fairstone. But that means Eeva and Alexa. Pard’s breath catches in his throat at the thought and panic floods his body.

  Yitch looks up from his watch and grins, he clicks the case shut, the sound echoes through the vast cathedral like an executioner’s axe striking block. “One minute has past and no one has anything to add to the accused’s defense—”

  “I have something,” Miles’s voice reverberates off the walls of the silent cathedral.

  The audience shifts in their seats and eyes Miles.

  “L-Lord Marlow,” Yitch says with a stutter. “You have something?”

  “Yes, I have something to add to this proceeding,” Miles says as he makes his way out of a back pew row and onto the red carpet leading to the front.

  “You have something to add for or against the accused?”

  “For the accused of course,” Miles says sharply, as if it would be obvious.

  The audience whispers and again shuffles in their sea
ts.

  “You do?” Yitch says, a tinge of concern seeps out of his thin lips.

  “Yes.” Miles struts toward the stage with head held high and comes to a stop next to Pard.

  Pard looks at him in surprise and tilts his head to the side and mouths, what are you doing?

  Miles grins and winks at Pard and then sets his hand on Pard’s shoulder. Miles nods at Yitch. “Let the record note that on the night of question, I, Lord Miles Marlow, fifth son of Lord Lucine Marlow of Latvin, the Protectorate of Bastin, after detention with both Pard and Professor Ames, I waited outside the classroom for the accused Pard Wenerly, and we left the castle together for an hour and studied advanced mathematics.”

  “Advanced mathematics?” Yitch says, blank face and not believing what he is hearing.

  “Yes, advanced mathematics.” Miles eyes Professor Videl. “Which the professor can confirm that Pard Wenerly tutors me.”

  Yitch spins like a ballerina and jerks to a stop, facing Professor Videl. Yitch’s eyes open wide in eager anticipation.

  Professor Videl slowly nods, confirming what Miles is saying.

  Yitch’s shoulders slump, and he turns back to Miles.

  Miles grins. “I left Pard Wenerly’s room one hour after the incident with Nero Yitch.”

  Yitch lowers his gaze and stares at his feet, thinking and digging deep to retort, unsure of what to say or do next. Then his face beams and his body snaps upright. “No, no, no, impossible, the paper, I have the drawing, it was placed at the scene of the crime.”

  Miles shrugs. “I opened the door in the west wing right after detention. I tossed my gum out into the courtyard. And I clearly remember because it was so cold and windy that day it took my breath away. A gust of wind almost knocked me over.” Miles turns back and faces the audience. “Which any Fairstone boy in the audience can attest happens regularly to all who exit the west wing—the wind gusts are fierce.” Miles faces the professors on the panel then pats Pard on the back. “Though unfortunately for my less coordinated friend here, he wasn’t so lucky. The wind knocked Pard over, and he dropped his books and papers. I thought we picked up all of his things before we went up the stairs to the fourth floor to Pard’s room, but I guess we missed one.” Miles glances at Pard. “Right?”

  In a state of shock, Pard stares at Miles.

  Miles’s eyebrows rise. “Right?”

  Pard coughs. “Ahem, right, yeah, I fell from the wind, and we didn’t get all my papers.”

  Yitch stares at the neatly folded drawing in his hand and scowls. He crumples the paper into a tight wadded ball.

  Professor Videl stands. “I think it’s time we deliberate on the matter. Let the record note that evidence and testimony for both sides rests and the council will discuss and render a judgment henceforth.”

  The council gathers at the back of the stage and they form a circle.

  The restless audience erupts in discussion amongst the boys, and every passing second the cathedral grows louder.

  “What are you doing?” Pard says to Miles.

  “Saving your ass before you say something stupid, or worse, say nothing at all.”

  “But you could get expelled if they catch you lying.”

  Miles chuckles. “As long as a teacher didn’t see you that night we’re all good. Then it’s my word against Blaine, Sully, and Nox. At best I’m more credible and I have a title that they can’t touch; at worst it’s a draw, either way you probably go free.”

  “Why are you doing this for me?”

  Miles smiles. “Because you’re my friend. And I’m sure you didn’t mean to hurt Nero on purpose.”

  “We’re—friends?”

  Miles rolls his eyes. “Yes, we’re friends, and I told you, don’t worry about it, you should just trust me.”

  The council breaks, and Yitch, scowling, stands next to the table at the front of the stage.

  “Looks like a positive sign,” Miles says. “Anything he’s upset about has got to be good for us.”

  Yitch pounds his mallet once on the table, and the cathedral goes silent. “The council concludes that as a result of equally conflicting accounts, that the accused, Pard Wenerly, is hereby considered not guilty until more evidence is found or presented to conclude otherwise. The investigation into Nero Yitch’s murder will continue, and because Pard Wenerly is still a person of interest in the matter, he will hereby be placed on probation, though no further action will be taken against him on the matter. This council is hereby convened.” Yitch pounds the table with a single strike of the mallet. And in disgust, lets the mallet drop out of his limp hand, landing sideways on the ancient walnut.

  The audience stands, and the cathedral fills with a deafening, jumbled chatter.

  “Nice, see, no problem,” Miles says. “Hey, sorry for the drama and leaving you hanging till the last moment. But I had to wait and see if Yitch had anything else or anyone spoke up before I stuck my neck out to get it cut off. Once it was clear that was all Yitch had, I chimed in.”

  “Thanks,” Pard says, turning around. He exits his cordoned area and gets into the long, loud line of the masses of boys filing out of the cathedral. Pard and Miles inch along, and the boys ignore Pard now that the drama is over, and they don’t care in the slightest, likely because most of them know Yitch is a blowhard, and Nox and Sully aren’t really credible or honorable witnesses, no matter what Yitch tried to sell to the contrary. And if Lord Miles Marlow vouched for Pard, then he is no longer diseased in most of their eyes. So basically, they’ll leave him alone to go about his business.

  “Hey, Pard, Pard,” Hector says, tugging on Pard’s black robes. “I knew you didn’t do it—whatever the others were saying.”

  “Right, thanks,” Pard says, peeking behind him, slightly grateful but also slightly annoyed.

  “So you want to hang out later? Or comment for the Chronicle?”

  Pard ignores Hector as something strange catches his attention. At the back of the stage, Alexa and Eeva surround Yitch, Alexa in front of him and Eeva behind. Alexa jabs Yitch in the sternum with her finger and is threatening him. Face filled with fear, Yitch backs away from Alexa and bumps into Eeva who shoves the headmaster forward.

  Pard smiles, seeing Yitch bullied and scared, imagining Eeva giving him some attention she so wanted to last night. Good, that should keep him busy for a while and off my case. Serves him right. But the elation quickly fades, knowing it’s only a matter of time before Yitch tries something again, or Alexa and Eeva make their move to remove him out of Fairstone.

  “So how about tomorrow?” Hector says again, interrupting Pard’s thoughts.

  Pard inches forward and gets twisted around by the wave of boys all trying to get to the exit first.

  “Scram, news boy, no comment,” Miles says, pressing his palm against Hector’s forehead and shoving him away. “He has a girl to meet tomorrow.”

  ROUND TWO

  “We sure showed him, didn’t we?” Miles says, plopping down on Pard’s bed and lying on his back as he stares at the ceiling. “You were looking down the whole time, but you really should’ve seen the condor’s face when I said I had something to add. ‘L-Lord Marlow, you do?’ Ha ha ha.”

  “Yeah thanks for that,” Pard says, sitting at his desk chair. “But Alexa and Eeva were there, did you see them?”

  Miles sits up. “Just for a second. I was too busy saving your ass.”

  “And that star man,” Pard says, “the one with the tattoo under his normal eye and a monocle over his silver eye, that guy freaks me out the way he looks at me. I can’t place my finger on it.”

  “I didn’t notice them, again, I was to busy following you’re trial and figuring out a way to get you out of your mess, you know, so you could stay here at Fairstone and not be a wandering beggar alone in the freezing cold tonight, the same as you should’ve been focusing on. Which by the way, you seemed to give up—I don’t like that. So, a word of advice if you’re going to hang with me, no wussing out, eve
n if you did do the deed. You’re lucky I came to your rescue, that’s two you owe me.”

  “Two?” Pard says.

  “Yeah, the girl and now your trial.”

  Pard shakes his head. “Okay, maybe one, since I saved you from Professor Videl the other night.”

  Miles nods as he contemplates. “All right, that’s true, I’ll give you this round. But you still owe me one.”

  Pard rolls his eyes and lets Miles have his glory, even though he bumbled his way into getting a date with Selby with luck. But after what Miles did for him in the Fairstone cathedral, it isn’t the time to argue the small stuff. Pard’s just happy he’s safe for another night and someone would put themselves out in the open for his defense like Miles did. Though it is Lord Marlow after all, risk seems to be his middle name. Pard wonders if Miles did what he just did to get under Yitch’s skin, once he was sure he would get away with it. But it doesn’t matter, the result is what matters, and Miles is a good friend or ally to have on his side.

  “So why didn’t you try to save yourself?” Miles says.

  “What’s the point? Fairstone seems to be filled with a bunch of pretentious, lying, or murder conspiracy fakes. I came to the realization that by the slimmest of margin I might be better outside of the castle walls than inside of them. Then there was the small matter I did kill Nero, and had no way of explaining otherwise without help, which I thank you again.”

  “Pretentious, lying, and murder conspiracy fakes, ha!” Miles wads up a dirty shirt lying on the bed and flings it at Pard, hitting him in the chest. “Then you fit in perfectly here at Fairstone, considering you did do Nero something awful and you’re not as you seem, and we just conspired and lied.”

  Pard twists his lips, snatches the shirt, and wings it back at Miles.

  Miles ducks to the side and laughs.

  Pard taps his finger on the desk as he contemplates his reprieve and the locket. “So what do we do about Yitch? We still need to get in his office, and soon. I imagine this is far from over. From the sound of Alexa and Eeva last night, they won’t give up easily, three hundred gold and all, that’s Lord Marlow money.”