If not, in due time, death was a guest that all men must host.
Chapter Three
For three days, the wagon holding Akiri crawled steadily north. Throughout this time, Freidris refused him even the smallest morsel of food or water, offering instead only a spiteful diet of curses and threats. But if he was hoping to weaken and demoralize his prisoner, he was in for a big disappointment. Akiri had endured hardships that Freidris Galliani could scarcely imagine, and it would take far more than harsh words and a few days without food to break him. His mind was disciplined not to anger or allow any trace of fear to surface. For most of the time he simply sat in the center of the wagon with legs crossed and eyes closed, not uttering a sound.
It was mid-morning when they eventually arrived at a small country manor just off the road leading into the capital city of Gol’Naruth. Twenty armed men – mercenaries, from the look of them – were waiting near the front door. Akiri wondered if Freidris might be such a fool as to kill him here without a trial. That would be in complete defiance of the king’s law and his own right as a Dul’Buhar.
The manor was modest for what it was, though still a palace to the eyes of a man like him: single story and of simple design, no doubt built from local timbers. Most likely it was used as a hunting lodge, as opposed to the minor lord’s residence. To his right, Akiri could see a stable big enough to house perhaps a dozen horses, while to his left stood a smaller building that probably served as a guard shack.
As he neared he saw a tall woman, who looked to be in her midlife, emerge from the building. Even the distance couldn’t hide the gray hairs and craggy lines of age around her eyes and mouth. She moved with the grace and poise of a true noblewoman. In her youth she must have been something to behold, he thought. Even now, after a life well-lived, she was remarkably attractive.
“Is this him?” she asked in a feminine yet commanding tone. “Is this Akiri?”
Freidris dismounted and bowed low. “Yes, mother. This is him.”
She approached the cage, her eyes boring into him. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.
“Aside from being Freidris Galliani’s mother – no, I do not,” he replied coldly.
“I am Carlotta Galliani. Matriarch of the House Galliani. As I understand it, you have killed two of my kin. My sister is suffering badly because of you already. When she learns of Kirlon’s death, I fear for what she might do.”
She paused, but Akiri said nothing. “Have you no defense to offer?”
“My Lady,” he said, giving her a respectful nod, “I am not answerable to you, or to your house. I am the commander of the Dul’Buhar. If I am to be charged with a crime, only the king can be my judge.”
Carlotta sniffed contemptuously. “Dul’Buhar indeed! I have never understood why King Zemel allows you so much license. You are slaves, after all. Not like proper soldiers. You run around thinking you are untouchable.” She moved in closer, a wicked smile on her face. “Well, my friend, you are not untouchable. Your time has come, and I will show you what power really is.”
Akiri regarded her steadily. “If you intend to kill me, you should get on with it.” His voice was flat and emotionless. “This cage holds me only because I allow it. As do these shackles.”
She gave a mirthless laugh. “Do you take me for a fool? I am not about to risk the standing of House Galliani by murdering a Dul’Buhar dog. No. First you will be judged. And I promise you now that you will be convicted. Only then will you die. But of course, feel free to escape if you can. That would save me no small measure of trouble.”
“I have no need to flee. I trust in the wisdom of my king.”
“You do that,” she mocked.
After a final lingering stare, she turned back to her son. “Feed him and give him proper clothing, Freidris. We wouldn’t want King Zemel to think we are animals when he arrives, would we? After all, our prisoner does hold the rank of commander. Even if he is just a slave.”
“Yes, mother.” After casting Akiri a malevolent glare, he followed her inside the house.
The realization that the king was coming brought a brief smile to Akiri’s face. All would be well soon, and then he’d be free to return to his men.
The four soldiers who had escorted Freidris were gathered in a tight group by the front of the manor, while the sell-swords wandered aimlessly. Such men were undisciplined. Beatable. Their courage lay in numbers, and they possessed no loyalty beyond the coin. Akiri wondered why the House Galliani even bothered employing such riff-raff. Surely they could count on better?
A short time later, a young servant girl brought him a loaf of bread, a hand-sized piece of dried meat, and a flask of water. She returned shortly afterwards carrying a brown cotton shirt, a pair of trousers, and leather boots. One of the soldiers ordered him to put his hands through the bars so that he could be unshackled.
“Get dressed,” he ordered, once Akiri had been freed.
He was still stripped to the waist from the combat training with his men. Carlotta was indeed wise not to let the king see the most senior member of his prized Dul’Buhar half-naked and bound like a common thief; this would certainly be viewed as an insult and considerably reduce their chances of gaining the vengeance they sought. There was another good reason why he remained unshackled, even after having put on the clothes provided. It seemed Carlotta was doing her best to tempt him into making a bid for freedom. But he would not even consider such an action. Should they have attempted to murder him, that would have been different. He would have shown the Gallianis exactly why the Dul’Buhar were so feared. But even after doing that, he would still have sought out the king to explain himself. He would never run like a coward.
Carriages continued to arrive throughout the day. Several were escorted by spectacularly adorned guards and servants: a common practice when a family wanted to flaunt their wealth and status. Some were occupied by generals who had come from the camp, while others were nobles unknown to Akiri. By sunset, a total of ten carriages had arrived. Akiri smiled at the thought of so many haughty lords and ladies crammed into what to them must have felt like such a tiny place.
The king himself arrived astride a magnificent black steed just after sunset, his thick black locks bouncing across his broad shoulders in time with the horse’s cantering gait. A thin gold circlet resting on his brow held the hair well back away from his face. He wore an elegant purple shirt with gold stitching and polished black buttons, together with matching pants. Though this attire was clearly fit for a king, it also looked to be comfortable and well suited for travel.
Ten royal guards surrounded the monarch, each carrying a silver-tipped spear and a longsword at his side. It was a small escort for a man so powerful, but King Zemel did not need protection. His command of magic meant that he could cast down anyone who might be so foolish as to accost him on the road. Stories of his ability had fallen into legend throughout Acharia.
After an hour had passed, King Zemel emerged from the house alone. He paused outside the door for a moment before approaching the cage. As he drew close, Akiri lay face down on the floor with arms outstretched.
“You have caused quite a stir, Commander,” the king remarked in a surprisingly lighthearted tone.
Akiri rose to his knees, eyes downcast. “I apologize, Your Highness. It was not my intention.”
“I know Kirlon was a fool, but did he deserve death?”
“His crime allowed for no other punishment, Your Highness,” he said, then related the events that had led him to execute Kirlon.
“Yes, the volkar. I heard about that. After such a betrayal, I suppose you were only doing your duty.” Zemel rubbed his chin. “It has been many years since I have seen you, Akiri.”
“It has indeed, Your Highness.”
“Your reputation has grown. And I hear your men are loyal only to you. Is this true?”
“No, Your Highness. Their loyalty lies with you. I have earned their respect, but it is your will they live to enforce.”
&nbs
p; “That is good to hear,” he remarked thoughtfully. “And as for yourself… are you not afraid of what may become of you?”
“I trust in your wisdom, Your Highness. If you determine I am in the wrong, then my life is yours to take.”
Zemel nodded. “That is the answer I expected.” He turned to beckon over the guards. “Bring him,” he ordered.
He set off back inside while the guards unlocked the cage. They escorted Akiri through the front door and into the main foyer. Trophies boasting of many successful hunts decorated the walls, along with the bows and slings used to kill the creatures. Doors along both sides led to the other rooms of the house, and a double door at the rear opened into a spacious dining hall. In the center of this room stood King Zemel, flanked on either side by the various nobles. Carlotta Galliani was standing immediately to the king’s right, and her son to his left.
After approaching, Akiri bent down onto one knee and lowered his head.
“Stand up, Commander,” ordered the king.
Akiri obeyed, but did not meet his monarch’s eyes.
“You see, Your Highness?” mocked Freidris. “Such is his shame, he can’t even bring himself to look at you.”
“To look the king in the eye without permission is a challenge to his authority,” Akiri retorted. “Being the noble you are, I would have assumed you’d know this.”
“It is My Lord,” snapped Carlotta. “You will address my son as My Lord…. slave.”
“As you wish, My Lady,” replied Akiri, with no hint of deference.
“Look up, Commander,” said the king. “I would have you look me in the eye.”
Akiri raised his head. The king was wearing a heavy frown, a complete contrast to the smug smiles that both Carlotta and her son were displaying. As for the five generals present, there was barely concealed hostility in all of their looks. Akiri’s reputation and authority had earned him several enemies amongst high-ranking officers, though none had the power or the courage to do anything but whisper curses and shoot him contemptuous glances.
For now, all the other nobles present wore impassive expressions. The nobility learned from an early age to hide their feelings so as not to reveal their intentions. It was all a part of the power game.
“Commander Akiri of the Dul’Buhar,” King Zemel began ceremoniously. “You are accused of the murder of General Kirlon Galliani, Lieutenant Jutzi Marko, and Lieutenant Bernart Scotz. That they all died by your hand is not in dispute. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Akiri bowed. “Your Highness, I was simply carrying out a legal writ of execution. The two lieutenants attempted to interfere with this and were killed in the process.”
“A writ you issued yourself,” jumped in Carlotta. “Without trial or evidence. You murdered those men in cold blood. I demand justice.”
“You demand nothing!” roared the king, the power of his voice causing the woman to cringe. “Be silent, or I will have you put in chains.”
Carlotta lowered her head and took a hasty step back. “Please forgive me, Your Highness.”
Satisfied for the moment, King Zemel turned his attention back to Akiri. “Why was it necessary to execute him? What was his crime?”
Akiri repeated what he had told him outside, this time adding the events inside Kirlon’s tent. “According to the laws Your Highness has written, I was well within my rights to execute General Kirlon,” he concluded. “His treachery allowed for no other course of action.”
Zemel gave him a lengthy stare before asking: “Tell me, Commander, why would General Kirlon want you dead?”
“He blamed me for the death of his brother, Your Highness.”
A royal eyebrow rose. “Did you kill him as well?”
“No. He took his own life.”
“After you stripped him of his honor,” added Freidris, unable to hold his tongue.
The king shot him a warning glance, then gestured for Akiri to elaborate.
“He defied a direct order and led his men into a trap – one that any competent commander would have easily detected. Twenty of his men died as a result. When I learned of this, I took away his rank and had him sent to the supply lines where he could do no more harm.”
Zemel nodded. “I see. And as a result of this disgrace, he took his own life.”
“That is what I have been told, Your Highness. Whatever the case, General Kirlon blamed me for his death and sought vengeance by hiring a volkar to kill me. I heard this directly from the creature’s lips. There was no doubt of his guilt.”
Carlotta stepped forward timidly, not speaking until King Zemel nodded his permission. She then turned to Akiri. “Are we supposed to simply take your word for this? You have no proof. Why should anyone here believe a word you say?”
“My Lady,” he replied. “My word is all the proof I need. I am unable to bear false witness. No Dul’Buhar can.”
She waved his promise away contemptuously. “So you say.”
“So says King Zemel,” he retorted. “We cannot lie from the moment we swear allegiance to the king and to the order.” He paused, expecting to hear the king confirm this, but his monarch remained silent. “Our mandate gives us absolute authority in matters of military law. This alone should be enough… even for you, My Lady.”
Carlotta glared at him hatefully. “Your mandate does not give you the right to commit murder.”
“Enough!” declared the king. “Leave, all of you. I will speak with Commander Akiri alone. Then I will render my decision.”
Carlotta opened her mouth to protest, but a sharp glance from Zemel kept her silent. Tight lipped, she joined the other nobles filing silently out of the room. Only one, a short thin man, remained behind. He wore an elegant silver satin robe bearing the crest of the House Kortain. His long silver hair was tied in a loose braid and fastened at the end with a blood red bead.
“Do you know this man?” asked King Zemel.
Akiri shook his head. “No, Your Highness.”
“This is my most trusted advisor, Lord Jerimea Kortain. He is here to observe you.”
Unsure how to reply, Akiri simply bowed and returned his attention to the king.
“What is the first thing you can remember?” Zemel asked.
Akiri thought for a moment. “Training with Borlon.”
“And how old were you at the time?”
“Eleven, I think. Though I am unsure. I might have been a little older.”
“Odd that you cannot remember anything of your life before that,” mused the king, glancing across at Lord Kortain.
“Are you certain he cannot lie?” the old man asked.
“Absolutely. The spell that binds him to me will not allow it. No one is supposed to know this, though I suspect that bitch Carlotta somehow does. Remind me to have her killed before I return to Gol’Naruth.”
Lord Kortain smiled. “I will indeed. And her son?”
Zemel rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes. Him too.” He turned back to Akiri. “Is it true you are loyal to me?”
“Completely,” Akiri replied.
Zemel paused for a long moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Humor me now. What if I told you that you had children? Would that change things for you? Would you want to be free to be with them?”
“No, Your Highness. I am more valuable to you where I am.”
“I see. And if I were to told you that I intended to have your children killed?”
Akiri thought on this for only a second. “I would assume that you have just cause to do so. It would not be for me to question the matter.”
Lord Kortain nodded approvingly. “It is exactly as you said. How much does he know about his past?”
“You heard him,” answered Zemel. “Training with Borlon is his first memory.”
“Ah,” said the old man, raising a finger. “But what he is able to remember and what lies deep within may be very different.”
The king considered this, then nodded. “Akiri. What do you know of your family?”
“Nothing, Your Highness. It was forbidden for me to know. The Dul’Buhar is all the family I require.”
“Very good. Even so, it might interest you to know that your father was the leader of the famed Tul’Zahar.”
This time Akiri was unable to conceal his shock completely. He had learned of the Tul’Zahar during his early studies. They had betrayed King Zemel and waged war on him. It was because of their treachery that the rebellion they were still trying to put down had continued for so long.
“I sentenced your father to death for his crimes,” Zemel continued. “And his blood runs through your veins. So I ask you again: Are you a loyal servant to your king?”
“I am, Your Highness,” Akiri affirmed. “And should you wish me to pay for the wrongdoings of my father, I will gladly end my own life.”
The king waved his hand. “No. Your father has already given any blood that was owed on that score. But you do carry his burden, Akiri. He stole something very precious to me and hid it away. I have searched for many years to recover this item, but to no avail. Now at last, I have discovered a way and want your help in retrieving it. Do this, and you will have paid your father’s debt in full. You will also have provided a great service to me.”
“I am at your command, Your Highness. Tell me what I must do.”
The king smiled warmly and produced a small black stone from his pocket. “Do you know what this is?”
Akiri looked closely. “It appears to be an oath stone, very much like the one I swore on when I was inducted into the Dul’Buhar. That was the first time we met.”
“It more than just looks like the stone you swore upon, Akiri. It is the very one. Within this lies the source of your bond to me and the magic that gives you extraordinary strength and speed. As long as this is in my possession, you are in essence my slave. You cannot lie. Nor can you betray me. But it is also this very same stone that will prevent you from completing the task I am setting.”
Akiri furled his brow. “I do not understand.” He was already aware of the source of his power and of the oath stone’s magical qualities.
Akiri: The Scepter of Xarbaal Page 5