"This is ridiculous," she said in a low voice. "I can't fail like this."
"Maybe things will turn out okay," Markus said, but he didn't believe it.
A few hours later, the guard left, and another took his place. Whenever they tried to ask the new guard anything, he remained silent. He didn't offer them anything and threatened to beat them if they talked.
The next morning, the first guard returned, bringing them food and water.
"Your trial will begin in about an hour," he said.
Nadia moved to the edge of her cell. "Could you bring something from our supplies to the trial? It's a scroll written in symbols you probably won't be able to read."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Not by itself," Nadia said.
"All right, I'll get it for you."
Markus didn't know whether to feel anxious or relived. When the time came, six guards manacled their hands and led them out of the small prison, through the empty streets, and into the courthouse, a large stone building in the middle of town.
Markus's stomach twisted into knots as the guards directed them to a sandy bench at the front of the room. Townspeople jeered at them, and few appeared sympathetic. Markus strained against his manacles, on the verge of panic.
A clamor of voices filled the room. Distrustful. Mocking. Markus felt the crushing weight of hopelessness, like he'd felt while imprisoned in Crayden, but worse.
The voices came to sudden silence. Markus turned to see a middle-aged man in long, dark robes striding down the central walkway, toward the raised platform at the front of the room. The man took a seat in a chair on this platform, looking down at the prisoners.
He banged a gavel on the stone table in front of him. "I call this trial to order."
No one made a sound, and Markus felt as if he were suffocating.
The man kept his gaze on the prisoners. "I am Lord Aron, the leader of this city. It is my duty to determine the threat you pose and how you should be punished for your transgressions."
Markus felt sicker than ever as they stated their names to begin the proceedings.
"Why have you come to our city?" Aron asked afterward.
"We came here seeking Cyrus Middleton," Nadia said. "Back in Crayden, I was a member of the Order. I discovered a way to kill Warrick, but I need Cyrus's help to get what I need. I've wanted Warrick dead ever since he had my mother executed."
Aron's face remained expressionless. "I don't believe your story. It sounds exactly like the kind of story Warrick's spies would come up with. You'll need to try harder."
"I told you the truth," Nadia said, exasperated, "and you won't accept it. What can I say that will make you trust us?"
"Trust is hard to come by around here," Aron said. "You could be telling the truth, but unless you can offer proof of what you're saying, we have to err on the side of caution."
Nadia looked flustered, her entire body shaking. "All right, where's Cyrus? Let him come here."
"We have long since cut ties with Cyrus. He is a powerful man, but he spends more time in Mountainside than he does here. We prefer to remain separate from the political issues of the Empire. It allows us to be much safer."
"Can't you at least call Cyrus here?" Nadia said.
"The last I knew, he was away in Mountainside. I doubt he'd believe your story either."
Rik glared at the man. "Shouldn't we at least give him the chance?"
"It is not your place to make demands, prisoner."
"Give me another chance to prove it to you," Nadia said. "In our supplies, we have a scroll containing the first part of a spell called White Fire. Cyrus himself wrote of this spell, of the chance it has to kill Warrick. Look at the scroll for yourself." She turned to the guard. "Could you show him the scroll I asked you to take here?"
The guard strode forward and handed Aron the scroll. Aron frowned, then returned it to the guard. "This is nonsense. I can't read it."
'It's written in Luminian," Nadia said. "Cyrus would be able to read it. Please, put off your decision until he can see the scroll. If he doesn't believe us, then you can do whatever you want. I was told you were a fair man. Show me that you are."
Aron narrowed his eyes. "Justice is fair, and you are on the wrong side of the law."
"How can you call that justice," Nadia demanded, rising and clenching her fists. "Convicting people who have done nothing wrong isn't justice. It's a travesty of justice. You're no better than Warrick."
Aron glared at her. "Sit down, or I'll have you killed right where you stand."
Nadia sat reluctantly, her face red with anger. Markus wanted to comfort her but could only strain against his manacles. He looked down at his knees.
"Do you have any other evidence?" Aron asked, his gaze stern.
Nadia shook her head. Markus and Rik said nothing. What did it matter now? Aron and the townspeople had made up their minds.
"In that case," Aron said, "it is time to determine the verdict." He gave instructions to the townspeople, and they stood on one side of the courtroom to declare guilt, another to declare innocence. Only a few people decided in favor of Markus, Nadia, and Rik.
Aron banged the gavel again. "The verdict is guilty. The prisoners shall be executed today behind the courthouse. Attendance is voluntary."
He strode out of the room. The guards pulled Markus, Nadia, and Rik out of the courthouse, then circled around to the other side of the building, where the executioner's block had already been set up.
Yet another sign that there'd never been any doubt about their fate.
The executioner was the guard who'd treated them harshly the night before. He watched them approach with a smile, and Markus shuddered. The axe looked sharp, but Markus had the feeling the man would make it more painful just to torture them.
Aron presided over the execution, standing about twenty feet away. "Let's get this over with quickly," he said. "Better not to dwell too long on things like this."
You just want to forget this because you know it's wrong, Markus thought. He stepped closer to the block, looking down at his knees, fighting against nausea.
"Which one first?" the executioner asked.
Aron considered a moment. "Kill the red-haired one."
A pair of guards pulled Rik forward. He struggled until one of them clubbed him over the head with a gauntleted hand, and then he staggered toward his fate. The guards placed him face-down on the block while the executioner raised his axe.
Goodbye, Rik, Markus thought, tears streaming down his face. At least I'll be right behind you.
Chapter 45
"Stop the execution!"
A man strode toward the execution site, walking with authority. This man had a clean-shaven face and long, silvery blond hair. He appeared to be forty to fifty years old, but something about him looked almost ageless.
Aron glared at the man. "I wasn't expecting you so soon, Cyrus."
Markus's heart fluttered.
"Why are you executing these people?" Cyrus demanded.
"It isn't your concern," Aron said. "You have no authority to interfere in this matter."
"I have authority wherever I want. What have these people done?"
"They've threatened the safety of the town. They're imperial spies."
"Have you proven this?" Cyrus asked.
"They didn't disprove it, and that's all that counts."
"Guilty until proven innocent," Cyrus said. "I've never cared for your justice system."
"It is not your place to judge our ways. You don't have the best interests of this town in mind. You still hold your delusions of opposing Warrick."
"And who allowed you to separate yourself from such matters?" Cyrus asked. "Who created the barrier protecting the city? Who fills your oasis with water? It seems you've forgotten that you prosper because of me. I may allow you to govern yourselves, but don't delude yourself into thinking you're the master here. I am the master."
"That may be so," Aron said, "but why are you so in
terested in these prisoners?"
Cyrus stroked his chin. "These prisoners could very well be the ones to defeat Warrick. I've read the Webs of Fate, and they figure prominently into the fate of the world. And you would have destroyed that without even giving them a chance to state their case."
Markus was confused. What were the Webs of Fate, and how could someone read them? Did Cyrus see the chance that their insane quest might succeed? How did he even know who they were?
Rik still lay against the block. The executioner had lowered his axe, but he stood ready to use it.
"Fine, have it your way," Aron said. "I know I can't stop you."
Cyrus turned to the guards holding them prisoner. "Release the prisoners from those chains."
The guards hesitated, but when Aron nodded, they removed the manacles.
"Now we will recover their belongings," Cyrus said. The guard with the scroll returned it to Nadia, then accompanied them while the rest of the guards remained behind. The executioner let Rik go with a dark look, and Rik hastened over to join Markus and Nadia.
"I'm sorry about all this," said the sympathetic guard. "We have problems with trust."
Cyrus turned to him. "I know you're sorry, Leo. You're one of the few good men around here. I would welcome you into the Order."
"Well, I don't know about that."
"Keep an open mind," Cyrus said.
They went to the small prison and retrieved the rest of their belongings. Then Cyrus bade farewell to Leo and motioned for Markus, Nadia, and Rik to follow. They walked through the narrow streets, clouds of sand rising at their feet as the heat grew more brutal.
Cyrus stopped at the end of an alley and knocked on the stone wall seven times. The wall shifted open with a low rumble, revealing a bright but empty room full of stone furniture. Markus stepped through, into the magical torchlight.
"Sit down on these benches," Cyrus said. They did so, and he settled down on a bench across from them, his expression intense and unsettling.
"Thank you for saving us," Nadia said.
"I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner, Nadia. That was a closer call than I'd have liked. You don't understand just how important you might be. Of anyone in the world, you stand the greatest chance of killing Warrick."
"How do you know that?" Nadia asked.
Cyrus leaned forward. "When you become so experienced with magic like I am, you can read the Webs of Fate. I won't claim Warrick's talent, but I can see your importance. You are all what we would call Weavers, people who exert great control over the threads of that web. Such people are rare, but they can make a big difference."
As they talked, other people filed into the large room, took places far away, and chatted quietly amongst themselves.
Markus felt queasy. "So you're saying we're really important?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. I know about that scroll you have. It's the first part of White Fire. I have the second part. For the third, you'll have to enter the Imperial Library."
Nadia's face lit up. "Thank God! You know where they all are."
Cyrus nodded. "But don't assume this is going to be easy. No doubt you've been through hell already, but it will get worse from here. That scroll is heavily protected. Not only that, but even with all three scrolls of White Fire, you might not defeat Warrick. If the Webs of Fate are correct, it is more likely that you will fail in your attempt. Far more likely."
Markus's heart sank, and he fought to keep his expression neutral.
Nadia bit her lower lip. "Well, I always knew it wasn't a sure thing."
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't try," Cyrus said. "This is our best chance of ending Warrick's tyranny. I wish I could do more to help you, but I'm trapped. I can only travel between the Oasis Outpost and Mountainside, at least until Warrick's barriers weaken."
"That reminds me," Nadia said. "Warrick said he created all these strange magical regions to protect us from the magic of the Darkness Temple. Is he telling the truth?"
Cyrus stroked his beardless chin. "In some ways, yes. I think this will all make sense with a short history lesson. Please bear with me."
Though Markus normally had no interest in history, he resolved to pay attention. Cyrus was about to tell them things most people would never know.
"It all starts with the destruction of the old world. The details of how it happened are vague, but there was a great war involving weapons that could destroy entire cities at once and throw all kinds of dust and debris into the air. This resulted in a period of brutal cold that nearly drove mankind to extinction. After this destruction, a small group of survivors was chosen by one of the gods of this world, Rador, known to us as the Creator."
"I've never heard of this Rador," Nadia said. "I've only heard of Lionar and Krinir."
"That is because Rador vanished a long time ago. All three of these people were the gods of world: Rador the Creator, Lionar the Restorer, and Krinir the Destroyer."
"What about God?" Nadia asked. "Does He exist?"
"That I cannot answer. I have seen no evidence of His direct influence, but perhaps He is out there, watching us from a distance." Cyrus cleared his throat. "Now, Rador enlisted the aid of a being known as a Traveler, and this Traveler fashioned a portal that allowed a small group of survivors to pass from the Old World to this one. Some of the survivors brought knowledge of the Old World's technology with them, but Rador had these records sealed away.
"Instead of technology, we were given magic in this new world. But this magic was too widespread at first. There were wars for dominance among the new sorcerers, and then other sorcerers discovered even greater secrets. They could combine magic with Old World technology and become immensely powerful. Krinir led the charge in this regard. As the Destroyer, it is his nature to want to destroy things. Destruction is a natural part of the world, but Krinir took it to extremes, helping these sorcerers develop highly destructive, magically-enhanced technology. This resulted in the conflict you know as the Great War.
"At the end of the Great War, Lionar emerged victorious, but the world had suffered a great deal. Lionar used his powers as the Restorer to isolate the most powerful magic in eight temples spread about the world, making it a much more daunting task for any sorcerer who wanted power over the elements. At the same time, Lionar helped to construct a barrier between the rest of the world and those who favored this technology. There has been an agreement ever since that they are to keep their technology within their borders, and they are happy to do so, for they lost the Great War and were lucky to escape exile to the Shadowed Land."
Cyrus took a sip of water from a stone cup. "All this brings us to Darien Warrick. He was born a person like any other, though he did possess natural talent for sorcery, much as you do, Markus and Nadia. Warrick grew up in a town located in the area we now call the Ghost Forest, an area that contains the Temple of Darkness. These temples all have a tendency to warp the areas around them, so strange things often happened there. In one of these events, Warrick's parents were killed. He never told us how exactly it happened, but it left him an orphan with magical powers. He made the journey across what we now call the Empire so that he could attend the Academy of Sandersburg, a place for people of magic.
"A few of our professors there had power over the elements, but it was rare and discouraged. There were four of us, however: Warrick, Deron, Marlon, and me. We became obsessed with these temples, with gaining their powers and ultimately becoming immortal. Deron, Marlon, and I all came from wealthy families, the kind who could pay their way through the Academy. In general, Warrick despised people like us, but he befriended us at the time. He only made it in because he demonstrated great intelligence and innate magical prowess.
"This time in the academy was a formative time for him. Though he remained friends with us, he grew more and more to hate the wealthy students. To him, that was not how the world should work. He believed people should be judged based on their abilities, not on what family they were born to. An
d as much as I despise Warrick's methods, I believe that he is essentially correct in this. We all do.
"In our time at the academy, we vowed to get our powers and change the world for the better. We would go to the Tower of Light in Luminia and gain immortality, a task that most sorcerers avoid due to the sheer difficulty involved in acquiring all other types of magic first. Being at the academy also allowed us access to a lot of the knowledge from the Old World. That's how we learned of its destruction, and of the technologies there used to be. We were prohibited from spreading such knowledge.
"And Warrick resented that. He felt that this kind of thinking was holding the world back. This is where he differed from Deron, Marlon, and me. We understood the dangers inherent in another Great War. Warrick, on the other hand, almost seemed to relish the idea.
"He disappeared for a time, gathering followers, people who shared this same hatred for the world as it was. He also used this time to find some of the most powerful magical artifacts in the world. First the Stone of Creation, then the Stone of Destruction. These artifacts are a big part of the reason his powers extend so much beyond anyone else's."
There was more to this story, but Markus knew he would get only the answers Cyrus wanted to give. Cyrus reminded Markus a bit of his uncle.
"When Marlon and I heard of what he was doing," Cyrus said, "we knew we had to stop him from getting the third of these stones: the Stone of Restoration. So we searched long and hard for it, and we found it first. We placed it under such protection that Warrick would never be able to get it. By then, we had discovered and read, at some level, the Webs of Fate. In them, we saw what Warrick would become. We knew we had to stop him.
"After securing the stone, we decided we had to keep the world safe from Warrick. We were not powerful enough to kill him, so we trapped him here instead, using a source of magic located deep underground in the northeastern part of the Empire. At the time, we knew it was a temporary measure, but it was the best we could do. With that source of magic, we created four barriers to stop Warrick. One surrounded this source itself, one surrounded the entire empire, and the other two protect Mountainside and the Oasis Outpost."
Empire of Chains (World in Chains Book 1) Page 37