“Rhedmond Ban’hoen,” Liam repeated quietly. “You will be remembered, my friend, but I fear it will not be for long.”
“I can help you, but you must listen carefully,” Rhedmond told him as he adjusted the noose and prepared to place it around his neck. “I have tied the rope into a false knot. It will spin you around quite violently and give you rope burns, but it will not tighten around your neck. When the floor drops, you will fall to the ground alive.”
Liam nodded.
“There is a trapdoor underneath the dais. You must find it quickly. It will lead you beyond the walls of the assembly. In the past it was used to transport items from the gate to the castle while the assembly was full. I neglected to tell the King about it as he drew up his plans for this stage. The exit will be guarded, but they are not likely to be expecting anyone. With the aid of the fates, you may escape.”
Liam nodded again. “Thank you, Rhedmond Ban’hoen,” he said solemnly. Then Rhedmond made a sign with his fingers, and Liam recognised that it was his own adopted sign; the sign of the resistance.
~Æ~
Filos doubted at first what he had just seen. It seemed impossible, but there it was. The executioner held it there long enough to erase any doubt that it was an intentional gesture. Yes, the executioner was making the sign. His allegiance was to Liam. Filos had to stop Lyra.
~Æ~
Outside the assembly gates, Argus lifted the blanket to speak with his Mikraino. Dantun looked excited.
Argus looked down at his small servant. “What is it Dantun? Speak. I know you can speak.”
Dantun seemed reluctant, but he complied. “This is not over. Something else is happening.”
Argus considered for a moment. “I don’t think I want to take you back in there.”
“No, we must leave, now,” Dantun said. “This is fate’s time.”
Argus looked back at him, and decided not to question fate.
~Æ~
“I really don’t think you should be doing this, Lyra,” pleaded Rhemus.
“We have to do something. I can’t just let him die,” she answered through tears, and continued moving forwards.
The noose was around Liam’s neck. The executioner guided him towards the platform that would collapse underneath Liam’s feet when the lever was pulled. Lyra pushed through more aggressively.
She was beginning to call attention to herself, as was Filos, who pushed through to try to catch up with her. Theron saw them, and signalled to his security.
Lyra reached under her cloak for the sword.
Theron saw her, and reached for his knife.
~Æ~
“Lyra, stop,” Filos implored, as he intercepted her, near the front of the assembly.
“I can’t, we have to do something.”
“Listen. I think it’s going to be all right. Just keep your wits about you. We have already stirred the attention of the King and his guards. They are coming for us now. Remain still and trust me.”
“It’s going to be all right, Lyra. Filos is correct. Liam will not die today.”
Lyra looked over her shoulder at Rhemus, and finally gave in.
“What about us, little one?” Filos inquired as the guards approached.
“That remains unclear,” replied Rhemus.
~Æ~
Theron removed his hand from his cloak, and from the handle of his blade. The woman and the giant in the crowd seemed to be under control for the moment. Best not to delay any longer.
“Executioner, perform your duty!” he cried.
~Æ~
Rhedmond pulled the lever to a collective gasp of the crowd. The floor opened up with a loud bang of wood against wood.
Liam twisted in the air, as Rhedmond had warned. The ropes still tightened around his neck enough to stop his breathing, and he wondered if the executioner had given him false hope. The rope pulled even tighter. He pushed back the visceral panic that was rising in him, not sure if he would survive even if the rope did eventually give. Then he fell to the ground in a heap, his hands still tied behind his back.
The crowd was completely silent. For a moment, no one knew if Liam was alive or dead. All present were familiar with the fabled law of the fates: should a man survive his execution, he would be absolved of his crimes. No one had ever seen a man survive until now.
Liam began to move.
Arconus leaned forward in his seat. “What sort of traitorous scheming is this?” he bellowed as Liam slowly climbed to his feet.
No one moved. The guards and the crowd awaited the King in silence.
Arconus rubbed his chin and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Executioner!”
“Yes, Your Highness,” answered Rhedmond Ban’hoen.
“You have failed in your duty. You have disappointed me, and you have disgraced your family,” Arconus accused, and gave a nod to General Theron.
Rhedmond began to speak, but before he could utter a word; his head was rolling on the dais, unattached to his body, which slumped down on the wooden floor a moment later. His brother, Richard, looked on from beside the King, and then slowly moved towards the back of the dais.
Theron held his bloody sword aloft, and turned towards Liam.
Lyra was now only a few yards from Liam. He looked at Lyra, and then at Filos, and signalled for them to hold their ground.
“It seems the fates have been kind to you today, Mr Foster. You have survived your execution,” Arconus finally said.
He took a deep breath, and continued in measured tones, “This sort of thing is not without precedence, Foster. I have witnessed such chicanery before. You have provided quite a show. But a show is all that it is, Mr Foster, and I will not allow you to mock my authority.
“You will not die today, Mr Foster. Who am I to question the fates? But I do intend to hold you in custody until we can get to the bottom of this conspiracy. Guards!”
Lyra rushed to Liam’s side as the guards pressed through the crowd, removing his sword from her robes as she ran. Filos was followed close behind her.
“What are you doing?” Liam demanded.
“Now is not the time to argue,” Filos said as he quickly cut the ropes that bound Liam’s hands. As Liam turned around, General Theron leapt to the ground behind Filos and raised his sword, still wet with Rhedmond Ban’hoen’s blood. Liam pulled Filos to the ground and snatched his sword from Lyra in one motion. Theron’s swing missed, and Liam managed to deliver a harsh kick to the chest that sent Theron tumbling back into the oncoming soldiers.
Liam grabbed Lyra and pointed under the dais. “There is a door under there, find it!”
The crowd of soldiers was growing fast around Filos and Liam. Three charged in, with four behind them. Liam tripped the first, guiding his head into the corner of the dais, cracking his skull. The second soldier took a deep gash in his leg, and then a killing thrust to the stomach, while Filos simply took a long arching swing at the third, knocking his sword away and slicing through the man’s shoulder. The advancing soldiers were suddenly more cautious, but it was clear they would soon be overpowered.
“It’s here!” Lyra called.
“Follow them, I’ll hold them off,” Liam ordered Filos.
Filos took another mighty swing, injuring two soldiers, then took Liam by the arm and shoved him under the dais.
“Point taken,” murmured Liam, and hurried after Lyra.
Lyra was waiting by the door on hands and knees, barely fitting between the ground and the platform with Rhemus still strapped to her back. Another man was also there, kneeling, holding the door open for them. Liam recognised that his face was identical to the face of his executioner and saviour. The other little person stood erect without difficulty. She ran to the door and scurried down. Liam scrambled as fast as he could, spun his legs around and fell through. On the opposite side of the dais, he saw a figure jump to the ground. Liam could hear the thud even over all the noise of fighting and shouting from the crowd. A bestial face pe
ered under the dais and then stooped down to crawl after them. It was Gastious.
~Æ~
Filos was now far too outnumbered to continue fighting. He took a long, broad swipe of his sword to back off his aggressors for a moment, and dashed under the dais. He was fast enough to avoid all of the blows but one. He winced at the deep gash in his calf, but scurried forward as fast as he could. Filos could see Liam making his way into the door, and another man climb through directly after him. He saw Gastious crawling for the doorway. The man at the trapdoor looked at him expectantly, and then at Gastious advancing on the other side.
Someone grabbed Filos by the ankle. He kicked the soldier in the face with his opposite foot, dislodging him, and raced to the trapdoor, sliding down head-first. The executioner’s twin immediately shut the door and bolted it behind them. He reached for another metal bar and slid it in next to the wooden one. Slivers of muted daylight filtered through the spaces between the wooden slats in the trapdoor above them. And a moment later, a sharp blade pierced the wood with a loud crash.
~Æ~
“You are Redmond’s brother?” Liam asked.
“I am. Move. Fast. The passage is clear, but it’ll only take a minute for them to break through this door. There’ll be guards on the other side, but if we are fast enough, we can reach them before they realise what’s happening. You’ll have to pierce through them before their numbers are too great. Now, follow me. Put a hand on my shoulder, and each of you put a hand on the shoulder in front of you.”
The clumsy chain of fugitives shuffled in the darkness, trying to adjust to the light, winding their way through a passageway crowded with boxes and shelving. They could hear the King’s soldiers pounding on the door, and chopping at it with their swords.
“I cannot see anything,” Lyra complained.
“I can,” said Rhemus. “It’s all right. We’re nearly half way.”
“You cannot fight with children on your back,” Richard said as he grabbed a sack from a shelf in the passage. Their eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and now they were far enough along the passage that light from the exit door outlined their shapes.
“You, in here,” he ordered, and Kaila quickly complied. “You too, hurry.”
Rhemus was already struggling to get out of Lyra’s papoose.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Lyra protested.
“It’s the only way,” Rhemus explained. “It’s okay, you can trust him.”
Not particularly gently, Richard helped Rhemus into the bag, and then stuffed a blanket in on top of the two Mikraino. It looked like an ordinary bag of laundry. He then heaved the bag over his shoulder and quickly walked towards the exit at the end of the passage.
“Taking out the laundry in the middle of an execution? You think this will work?” asked Lyra.
“Any better ideas?” asked Richard tersely.
“No,” answered Lyra. “Let me help you. The guards only need to believe for a moment.
~Æ~
Travis knew where they were going. He and Maclamar had spotted the underground passage in their youth, and had plotted many unrealised schemes about breaking into the castle grounds.
“Benefits of a misspent youth,” he murmured as he climbed over the stone wall, and found that the ledge on the other side offered ample support for his weight. It had been some time since he had encountered the need to climb on a balcony, but the familiar adrenaline surged.
He located the hitching post, where two carriages and seven single horses were tethered. He felt for the paper creations in his vest pocket. They were still there. He looked around and found a convenient group of large flags hanging near the door. He walked over to the flags, and grabbed the ropes which bound them to their poles. These he stretched as far as he could down the ledge. They were not as long as he had hoped, but they would suffice.
Six soldiers were guarding the gate to the palace grounds. They were clearly agitated, trying to figure out what was happening inside the assembly. But evidently word had not reached them. Travis counted at least sixteen others who would be able to reach the doors within thirty seconds.
The door near the gates opened and someone emerged carrying a sack over his solder. Travis’s first thought was that perhaps he was wrong about where Liam and Lyra were headed. A half dozen swords were now held at the man’s throat. He grunted and pleaded, and looked in a panic for a moment, and then the guards grabbed him by the arms and dragged him roughly out the door. The servant moved along briskly, then Liam leapt from the shadow of the tunnel and through the doors like a cyclone. He killed two soldiers before the others knew he was there. Filos thundered behind him and Lyra seemed to dance into the fray.
Travis threw two of his folded concoctions on the ground between the horses attached to a carriage. They exploded on impact with two loud cracks. The horses started, and bucked. He threw three more of his paper snappers, and the horses tried to run in opposite directions. After a moment of bustle and creaking wood, the horses twisted apart the base of the carriage. One ran free, away from the crowd; the other continued bucking and trying to escape its restraints.
Then Travis let the flags loose, swinging down on the ropes to the ground in the process. Liam, Lyra, Filos and the soldiers were now struggling under two canopies of cotton fabric.
~Æ~
At first Liam thought the canopy was an attempt to capture them, but he soon recognised the colours of the flags and figured Travis had come through for them.
“This way,” Liam screamed. They now set their attention on a quick escape into the growing crowd. Liam climbed out from under the flags to find a sword heading for his neck. He ducked quickly, spun around and sliced the abdomen of his aggressor. He met the sword of another soldier with his, protecting Filos from a blow, then sliced downward, nearly cutting through the man’s arm.
He led Lyra and Filos through the thickest part of the crowd, and the people parted for him with shouts of support. “Long live Liam Foster!” and “Liam Foster cannot be killed!” and other strange discomfiting things met Liam’s ears as he pushed through the crowd. He looked behind to ensure that Lyra and Filos were following. They were, and the crowd closed behind them as they passed.
~Æ~
Travis marvelled as he saw the people of Jeandania open for Liam Foster, and then close behind him, blocking the pursuing soldiers. Travis understood in that moment that Liam Foster had become immortal. He had escaped death, and then had escaped the King. The people of Jeandania not only loved him, they were devoted to him. They opened their ranks to let him in, to absorb him into the mass, and to protect him. The guards were pressing now, slashing and clubbing whomever stood in their path. Some made hesitant movements of acquiescence; others stood fast, willing to face death just to delay the soldiers’ progress a little longer. Others fought back with whatever weapons they had available. Some had knives, others fought with the wood from the broken cart, and some with just their hands.
Travis felt a sense of wonder, of fear and of duty. He knew this was never a part of Liam’s plan, and it certainly had never been a part of Travis’s. But he could feel that the wheels of fate were now in motion, and would not come to rest until Liam was either killed, or he was king.
XXXIII
Some say that fate is merely a series of coincidences. Others say even the most extraordinary events are nothing more than the results of the efforts, big and small, of men. Those who believe in the power of the fates do not disagree with either of these points.
– The Tomes of Æhlman
“May we provide a guiding hand of wisdom,” said the Chairmen, and the debate among the Chamber commenced.
“What bloody demon trick is all this?”
“What are we supposed to do now?”
“Any suggestions?”
“It looks as if the fates are conspiring against the King. The King looks a fool.”
“Where is Foster now?”
“No one knows.”
&nbs
p; “That is ridiculous. There must be dozens of people who know.”
“Maybe, but no one is speaking.”
“It is our sworn duty to remain calm,” said the voice of the Chairman. “The King has been embarrassed. He will recover. He will also seek out Liam Foster.”
“Will there be war?”
“Foster has no army.”
“The people are behind him. He may get recruits.”
“Remember, Riley is still out there somewhere, and so are those kids.”
“Who? The Talons of Freedom?”
“Yes, those boys are good. They defeated the Bok in the Gayana swamp.”
“That’s true, but there are only a few of them left.”
“And Riley has only one division. If it comes to war, Foster has no chance.”
“If it comes to war gentlemen,” the Chairman interjected, “the King will be calling on you for support.”
~Æ~
“I owe you my life,” said Blade, after taking a sip of water from his cupped hands.
“Don’t be so quick to promise your life away, my young friend,” he answered, and took a mouthful of water himself.
“How did you cut through the webbing so easily?” asked Blade.
Verkleet produced a shiny dagger, and handed it to him.
“This is a dagger of the royal guard,” Blade observed.
“Beauty, isn’t she?”
“How did you get it?”
“From one of the royal guards, of course,” Verkleet answered.
Blade chuckled, and then he flipped the dagger around and caught the blade between his fingers and handed it back to Verkleet.
Verkleet smiled in delight. “What a lovely trick,” he said, and then flipped the dagger around and caught the blade between his fingers. Then he flipped it around a full turn and caught it again.
“I must show this trick to my son one day,” he said, and flipped it around twice before catching it. Then he tucked it away in his shirt, and his expression again became grave.
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