The people of Rockman’s Ford were gathered before the chapel, huddled together under the watchful eyes of Sheriff Robinton’s men. The men themselves held spears and crossbows, but none of them threatened the townspeople with their weapons. All eyes were trained on the chapel yard.
Kira and Aram stood in the center, arms tied with thick rope. A pair of Robinton’s men-at-arms stood behind them, spears at the ready. Aram had a swollen eye much like his daughter’s, but it blazed with indignation. Kira kept her eyes on the ground, her shoulders slumped.
What gods-damned justice is this?
“People of Rockman’s Ford!” The Sheriff’s voice boomed over the gathering. “Yesterday I received word of an attack on the road just south of your town—an attack involving sorcery.”
The crowd muttered.
“Alderman Yaric was quick in the execution of his duties. He sent word, secured the survivor, and imprisoned those who stand accused of being responsible. You are to be commended, Alderman Yaric.”
Alderman Yaric—the bald, red-faced man D’Jenn had seen in the inn—bowed to the Sheriff and muttered something thankful. Sheriff Robinton gave the man a stiff nod and clasped his hands behind his back. He ran his eyes over the faces in the crowd, his expression as cold as a reptile.
“Some of my men are searching the countryside for the culprit as we speak. They are as thorough as Alderman Yaric. I have faith the sorcerer will be apprehended very soon.”
The Sheriff turned back to the prisoners. “In the meantime, treachery has spread in your town.”
The crowd grumbled.
“There are those amongst you who have aided the sorcerer.” The Sheriff stepped closer to Aram, his cold eyes meeting the woodcutter’s. “Those who have given him succor, given him shelter. Negotiated, even, for his escape.”
Kira let out a sob.
“Never fear—he will not remain free for long.” The Sheriff turned back to the crowd. “My men will find him! The people of your town have nothing to fear! Justice shall be done. I will start with these two here.”
The Sheriff mounted the steps of the chapel and turned when he reached the top. He spent a moment looking over the crowd, peering as if treachery lurked in the expressions of those gathered. He raised both hands in the air, drawing a hush from the people.
“I will speak as accuser. Who shall stand to speak for the accused?”
The priest put a hand on D’Jenn’s shoulder. D’Jenn helped him stand from the rickety stool and walk to the place before the stairs. The Sheriff watched D’Jenn with a pensive expression, but if he had questions about his presence, he didn’t voice them.
“I will speak for the accused,” the priest said.
The Sheriff eyed the medallion hanging from the priest’s neck. “You’re not an Arbiter, Chaplain Horis. The clergy is always respected, of course, but you speak today only as an Advocate.”
Horis nodded. “As you say, Lord Sheriff.”
“Very well.” The Sheriff raised his hands to the crowd again. “Let us hear the words of Chaplain Horis!”
The crowd shuffled as the old man cleared his throat. D’Jenn moved to the side of the yard and leaned against the wall. One of the Sheriff’s men watched him with a steady eye, but D’Jenn acted as if he hadn’t noticed.
Chaplain Horis raised his hand, drawing the crowd’s attention. “You all know me—I’ve been here a long time. I’ve watched most of you grow from sprigs to saplings. I’ve presided over our Solstices, our Equinoxes. We’ve all shared things together. We’ve lived our lives together.”
The priest gestured at Aram and Kira. “These two are not conspirators! Look at young Kira—do you really believe she was part of this barbarity? You all know her as a kind-hearted young girl, not some cold-blooded murderer! What madness has seized our town?”
People in the crowd glanced to one another. Muttering rose from the gathered townspeople. The Sheriff watched with flat, impatient eyes.
“I don’t know the truth of what happened to Rulon—no one does!” Horis shook his head and walked over to stand by Aram. “This man has been in this community for years. Perhaps he was caught in something dreadful, but my instincts tell me that he’s innocent. He’s never refused to help someone in need, never cheated or stolen from anyone. Aram is a good man, and his daughter is a beautiful, kind girl!”
Someone shouted agreement from the crowd. It might have been Jeravin, but D’Jenn couldn’t see her face. Most of the faces he could see were painted with uncomfortable expressions, though there was more than one vengeful scowl amongst them.
I don’t think mercy is forthcoming, no matter what Chaplain Horis says to them.
“Aram and Kira are victims, just like the young girl from the caravan. Look at Kira’s face! Why would she help someone who did such terrible things to her? Something dark came to our town—that much is true. But it’s gone now, headed south toward the capital! There’s no need for more death in Rockman’s Ford!”
The priest turned to the Sheriff. “Please, Lord Sheriff, I beg mercy for these poor souls. The Song of Creation says, in the Book of Neesa, that kindness and mercy are the highest of virtues. In the darkest of times, it is to Lady Neesa that godly people must turn. I beg of you, Lord Sheriff—mercy.”
“Mercy!” came a voice from the crowd.
“Let them live!”
“For the goddess!”
“No more death!”
D’Jenn turned and watched as people in the crowd raised their voices in agreement. The sentiment wasn’t shared by all the townspeople—plenty stood with their arms crossed, scowling at their neighbors. Aram and Kira shifted in their bonds, glancing between the crowd and each other. The Sheriff let the people cry their opinions for a few moments and raised his hands for silence.
“Wise words, Chaplain Horis.” The Sheriff put his hands behind his back and walked down the stairs. He gave the old priest an empty smile and a pat on the shoulder. “I am as godly as the next man, and your words sting in my heart.”
I bloody doubt that. D’Jenn snorted, drawing the eye of one of the men-at-arms.
“There is, however, more than one book in the Song of Creation.” The Sheriff walked over to stand before Aram, who refused to meet his eyes. “Tell me, priest—in the Book of Bast, what does it say about the duties of men to their rulers?”
Horis took a moment to respond. “That it is man’s place to obey the laws of the land.”
“And when those laws are broken?”
“It is man’s place to take his punishment with grace.”
“With grace.” A smile flashed across the Sheriff’s face, there and gone in a second. “Today we stand under the eyes of all the gods, that’s true. But there is one god who sanctions these proceedings, one under which we always swear before enforcing the law. That is Bast, dear Chaplain, and it is the God of Justice to whom I will adhere today.”
The Sheriff turned back to the crowd. “I will now speak the charges laid against the accused! It is hereby charged that Kira Stone did conspire with her husband’s murderer and assist in his killing!”
“What?” Aram snarled at the Sheriff and took a step forward, but the ropes held him to the ground.
“It is hereby charged that Aram Bailey also conspired with the murderer and gave him succor! He further secured the passage of the murderer on the caravan of one Joricham Kellan, which resulted in the deaths of most of his family!”
The crowd responded with shouting and angry gestures. Arguments broke out, which were countered by the commands of the men-at-arms. Once the townspeople were silent, the Sheriff continued.
“I do not speak these accusations lightly! There is a witness to these heinous crimes. Bring forth the witness!”
D’Jenn turned as there was a commotion in the crowd. The townspeople parted to allow a trio of people to step through—Hellyanne flanked by a pair of the Sheriff’s men. She saw D’Jenn as she stepped through the crowd and gave him a nervous smile.
&nb
sp; Poor thing looks like she’s ready to run in any direction.
The men-at-arms led Hellyanne forward to stand before the Sheriff. He favored the girl with the same empty smile he’d given Chaplain Horis. Hellyanne turned to face the crowd at his gesture, a reluctant expression on her face. Her eyes darted to Kira, who stood gazing at the ground.
“Please, tell these good people who you are,” said the Sheriff.
Hellyanne cleared her throat. “I’m Hellyanne Kellan. My family’s caravan was…was attacked.”
“And who was the culprit?” The Sheriff gave Hellyanne another empty smile when she glanced at him. “It’s alright, young lady. You’re not in any trouble here today.”
Hellyanne nodded. “Alright. I’m sorry, Lord Sheriff, it’s just—”
Sheriff Robinton held up a hand. “Don’t worry, girl. Just tell the truth.”
Hellyanne took a deep breath and turned back to the crowd. “The one who attacked my family’s caravan was a boy my age. His name…his name was Raven.”
Dark mutters rose from the gathering.
“And who introduced this Raven to your father? Who secured his passage on your wagons?”
Hellyanne looked to D’Jenn and gave him a sick, helpless expression. D’Jenn tried to impart what comfort he could through his face, but he’d never been as charming as someone like Merrick. Hellyanne took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“It was him, Lord Sheriff—Master Aram, the woodcutter.”
The gathered townspeople erupted. Shouts flew back and forth, both at the prisoners and at the witness. A fight broke out between a pair of arguing men. They were dragged from the crowd and cuffed into silence by the Sheriff’s men-at-arms while a trio of shouting women surrounded them.
D’Jenn watched Hellyanne during the commotion. The girl looked pale and uncomfortable. She eyed the crowd with a mix of emotions on her face, her gaze darting to where Kira stood. Her eyes filled with tears, but Hellyanne took a deep breath and straightened her back.
She’s stronger than she looks, that one. She’ll have to be, to pick up the pieces of her life.
“Order!” The Sheriff walked to the apex of the chapel stairs and raised his hands. “Order, I say!”
The Sheriff’s men shouted over the crowd and beat their spears against anything that would make noise. The clatter rose above the shouting voices and the tension subsided. D’Jenn ran his eyes over the crowd again, searching the faces.
Where in the Six Hells is Raven? Did he run, after all?
The Sheriff cleared his throat. “Does anyone care to speak against the words of this fair witness?”
Only the breeze answered him.
“Very well.” The Sheriff stepped down from the chapel and moved to stand before Aram. “In the absence of an Arbiter of Bast, it is my right by Royal Decree to pronounce judgment on these who stand before you. The King’s Peace is dependent upon order, and order is maintained by the enforcement of the King’s laws. I find you both to be in breach of his trust. Under the powers entrusted to me by the Crown, I hereby order the execution of Aram Bailey and Kira Stone.”
Someone in the crowd gave a startled cry, but the gathering was mostly silent.
The Sheriff leaned toward Aram. “Do you have anything to say on your behalf?”
Aram stood silent, his eyes on the ground.
The Sheriff nodded and turned back to the crowd. “Very well. Something has come to your town, Rockman’s Ford—evil. Evil spreads like rot, it infects. It must be rooted out and destroyed, lest it corrupt everything around it.”
Chaplain Horis cleared his throat. “Sheriff, I beg a moment’s—”
“The time for your words is over, Chaplain.” The Sheriff gave the old priest a dangerous look. “You will remain silent.”
Horis gave Robinton a wan smile and bowed at the waist.
“Our business is not yet concluded today.” The Sheriff turned his baleful glare on the crowd. “Another witness has come forth!”
The people shifted with unease, faces turning to each other in confusion. A commotion started in the back of the gathering, and a space cleared as a pair of guards led another person to the chapel yard. D’Jenn stiffened as a slight man with watery eyes stepped into the space cleared by the men-at-arms.
Loke? What does he have to do with any of this?
Loke turned nervous glances on the crowd as he mounted the chapel steps. Hellyanne stepped aside and moved toward D’Jenn until one of the guards ushered her to the other side of the yard. D’Jenn watched them go with a raised eyebrow.
Before he could ponder the matter, the Sheriff spoke again.
“Please, tell these good people who you are.”
Loke fidgeted with his hands. “Lord Sheriff, my name is—”
“Not me—the people.”
“Of course. Sorry, Lord Sheriff.” Loke ducked his head in apology and turned to the gathering. “You all know me—I’m Loke. I work with Aram sometimes. Help with building sometimes, do odd jobs, that sort of thing.”
The Sheriff gave an irritated sigh. “And what accusations do you wish to make before this court?”
“Right.” Loke gave D’Jenn a nervous glance. “Well—you see, Lord Sheriff—right after the first murder happened, when Kira’s husband was killed, these two fellows show up out of nowhere.”
D’Jenn stood from where he’d been leaning against the wall.
“They said they was bounty hunters, you see, and well…I thought it was suspicious.”
The Sheriff turned to stare at D’Jenn, a satisfied look on his face. “And why did you think that, Master Loke?”
Loke shied from the glare D’Jenn turned on him. “Well, they say they’re hunting this sorcerer, right? So…so I thought it was strange. How could bounty hunters be after a sorcerer? After they left the inn, I followed them.”
A chill went down D’Jenn’s spine.
“And what did you discover, Master Loke?” The Sheriff’s eyes never left D’Jenn.
“They went to the house of the widow Jeravin.” Loke glanced at the crowd and straightened his back when he noticed their eyes on him. “I got close enough where I could hear them talking. We used to sneak onto old Jeravin’s property when we were kids, see, and—”
“What did you hear, Loke?” The Sheriff spared the slight man an irritated glance.
Loke swallowed. “They talked about all sorts of things. I heard them talking about the one who attacked the caravan—Raven, they said. Jeravin said her grandson was at the Mage Tower!”
Grumbles rose from the gathering and the Sheriff had to silence them with a raised hand.
“It’s true!” Loke scowled at the crowd and pointed a finger at D’Jenn. “That one is a Sevenlander! We all know Sevenlanders traffic with sorcery! We know it! I heard them talking about the Conclave, and magic, and they had this doll with them, I think it was cursed—”
The crowd erupted with shouting. D’Jenn made to move from the wall but found himself surrounded by spear-heads leveled in his direction. The Sheriff stood a small distance away, smiling like a banker over his coins. He let the gathering shout and cry, until a space was cleared as another pair of men-at-arms shoved their way through.
Between them was the widow Jeravin, her wrinkled face a thunderhead.
So that’s why the crowd went mad. They seized the old woman.
The Sheriff shook his head at Jeravin and raised his hands for silence. “Evil, as I said, spreads like rot! First one sorcerer, then another! Three conspirators in your town, Alderman Yaric—three!”
The crowd went silent at the Sheriff’s tone.
The Sheriff took a moment to gather himself. “Will anyone speak for the accused?”
“I don’t need anyone to speak for me.” Jeravin yanked her arm free of one of the guards and glared at the other until he unhanded her. “There’s been no evil done here! That’s just nonsense.”
Someone in the crowd gasped.
The Sheriff raised an eyebrow.
“Nonsense?”
Jeravin spat on the ground, eliciting another round of gasps. “Kira and Aram did nothing wrong. Maybe they helped someone in need, but they didn’t kill anyone. That’s nonsense. And D’Jenn is a fine young man, no matter what Loke had to say, that little shit.” Jeravin pointed a bony finger at Loke. “And you hear me, boy, they can kill me today, but I’ll haunt your sorry arse until you die and bother your soul when it crosses the Void. The whole way, mind. I’m not a lazy drunk like you.”
Chuckling bubbled from the gathered townspeople.
“I’ve no wish to execute an old woman.” The Sheriff maintained a cool expression, though his eye twitched when he looked at Jeravin. “I’m willing to believe you were taken in by this man, and what aid you’ve given him was coerced.”
Jeravin snorted. “I’m not a fool, Sheriff Robinton.”
“Will you not deny the charges Master Loke has spoken against you?”
“Loke is a drunken fool, and anyone who believes him is worse than a fool.” Jeravin scowled at Loke. “Make that a cowardly fool.”
Loke made a rude gesture. “You dirty old bat!”
Sheriff Robinton raised his hands and called for order as laughter rose from the crowd. D’Jenn looked at the spear-heads around him, took stock of where everyone was standing. There was no way he was letting himself be executed by some County Sheriff in the backwaters of Shundovia.
Where is Raven?
The Sheriff shook his head and stepped up to D’Jenn. “And you? You have the right to speak for yourself.”
D’Jenn glanced at the men surrounding him. He looked over the crowd, noting the interest in the faces. Tension hovered in the air like heat.
“I think this is a mistake.” D’Jenn gestured at Aram and Kira. “The one who did the killings—Raven—he’s coming back here for those two. I don’t know what connection they share, but if you execute them, you’ll have no leverage, nothing to bargain with.”
The Sheriff raised his eyebrow. “Bargain? Why would I seek to do such a thing?”
“Because he’s powerful,” D’Jenn said. “Like it or not, he could hurt more people—will hurt more people, if you kill Aram and Kira.”
Defiant Guardians Anthology Page 14