The Devil's Fire

by Sara Bell

  Elwin braced his hands on the chair's high back and said, “Gentlemen, it is with a heavy heart I must inform you that traitors have infiltrated the ranks of this very Council."

  Alric watched as some of the lords shifted in their seats, but only one—a white-haired man of advanced age—had the courage to speak. “What's this you say? A traitor?"

  "I fear ‘tis so, Lord Ruan.” Elwin adopted an aggrieved expression. “'Twould seem that some sitting here today would gladly see me off my throne."

  A nervous muttering arose until a wide-shouldered, brown-haired councilor with eyes to match said, “If there is a traitor—and I must confess I have my doubts—then ‘tis a matter requiring some privacy. As High King, you should know better than to bring in an audience of outsiders, be they royalty or not."

  "Under normal circumstances I'd agree with you, Lord Vramon, but I think you'll agree that these circumstances are anything but usual.” Elwin took a step back. “Nigh on nine months ago, I granted permission for the houses of Drystan and Kray to wage war on Lord Denmar for the egregious crimes he supposedly perpetrated against them. Having read proof provided by the King of Stiles, I felt comfortable issuing that order. However, Lord Denmar has recently brought to my attention that the evidence against him may have been forged by King Gareth of Kray, himself."

  Outrage flowed through Alric's every pore. He was about to stand and lodge a protest when Gareth stopped him. “Just listen for a moment longer,” he whispered. “Elwin is merely setting the stage for the coming performance."

  Alric swallowed down his impulse to react and turned his attention back to the High King.

  "I must admit, I found the story hard to stomach in light of the evidence,” Elwin said. “Still, I might have given head to what Lord Denmar was saying if not for the missives I received from Thaddeus of Winthrop. According to the correspondences I've read,” Elwin leaned forward, “eight of the fifteen men at this table are conspiring with Lord Denmar against me."

  A cry of protest sounded round the table. A fair-haired man who looked to be no older than Elwin said, “You can't believe that."

  Elwin straightened. “And why is that, Lord Trandower? ‘Tis no secret some of you opposed my leadership after I claimed my father's throne."

  "Only because we thought you too young for the task.” Lord Ruan folded his hands upon the tabletop. “I'm glad to say you've proven me wrong, boy."

  "I thank you for your support, Lord Ruan, but it seems some are not so open-minded as you.” Elwin removed the documents from his belt and slapped them on the table. “In these papers are written the names of the eight men who are said to want me out.” He cast a hard glance around the table. “Care to guess which ones of you are so named?"

  "Now see here.” A man with flaming red hair jumped from his seat. “You're going to take what's written in some cryptic missive over the word of your own most trusted advisors?"

  "What's the matter, Lord Finch? Afraid your name might be on this list?” Elwin pointed to Finch's chair. “Sit back down until you're given leave to stand."

  With a wordless gasp, Lord Finch sat. Returning to the topic at hand, Elwin said, “As it happens, I need not rely on these letters alone. Indeed, I have a better way of judging the merits of my councilors.” He did a half turn, motioning Finn onto the dais. “Gentlemen, allow me to present Finneas of Hume, cousin to the good King Rowan. Finneas here,” Elwin clamped his hand down on Finn's arm, “has a most unique talent for sensing when a man is lying. With one brush of his fingers, Finneas will be able to see whether ‘tis darkness or truth that lies in your hearts."

  "Witchery, it is.” Lord Vramon pounded one beefy fist on the tabletop. “You're going to allow some black magic charlatan to judge us?"

  Elwin ignored the outburst and continued his instructions. “Gentleman, Finneas will now make a circle ‘round the table. You are each to extend your right hand, thus allowing him the most basic of contact.” Elwin's mouth fell into a hard line. “Any man who refuses will immediately be named as guilty and taken away."

  "You haven't the right to do this, Elwin.” Lord Finch's face flushed red to match his hair. “You've overstepped your authority."

  "According to the articles drafted upon the Over Kingdom's founding, the High King has every right to usurp the Council's authority should he see fit.” Elwin folded his arms across his chest. “I can think of no better time to exercise that right than now.” He cast his eyes on Finn. “Begin, Finneas. You may start with Lord Ruan."

  Alric watched, heart in his throat, as Finn took two short steps to where Lord Ruan was sitting. “Your hand please, my lord."

  Ruan contemplated Finn for a long moment before clasping Finn's hand with his own.

  Wrapping his fingers around Ruan's wrinkled wrist, Finn lowered his lids, took a deep breath, and then opened his eyes again as he let go of Ruan's hand. Without passing judgment, Finn made his way to the next councilor.

  And so it went as Finn made his way around the table. The three councilors after Ruan offered Finn their hands with no protest. Alric was just starting to hope that Finn would make it through the ordeal unscathed when Finn reached Lord Vramon's side and offered up his hand.

  Vramon studied Finn for a long moment before shaking his meaty head. “I'll not do it."

  Finn looked to Elwin who nodded before sticking two fingers into his mouth and letting loose with a shrill whistle. Two armed guards came in a moment later and Elwin said, “Escort Lord Vramon to the dungeons."

  Alric watched as the color drained from Vramon's face. “You can't do that."

  "Oh, but I can.” Elwin's iron gaze offered Vramon no mercy. “Now I'll ask you once more: will you submit to Finneas's examination, or shall I instruct the guards to remove you from this chamber?"

  "No, no. I'll consent.” Vramon gave Finn his hand. Even from where he was sitting, Alric could see that Vramon was trembling.

  The guards fell back and Finn completed his task in little time, with the remaining councilors having sense enough to offer no resistance as Finn finished the chore.

  The last councilor to be judged was Lord Trandower. As soon as Finn was done with him, he went to stand beside Elwin. “I'm ready, Sire."

  Elwin nodded. “Announce your findings."

  Finn took a step back and cleared his throat. “Lords Ruan, Adleron, Trandower, Henson, Murdock, Lowing, and Vramon are innocent, Sire."

  Lord Ruan's white eyebrows disappeared into the bushy mass of his hairline. “Vramon?” He turned to the offending lord. “By all that's holy, man, if you're innocent, why the protest?"

  Vramon pursed his lips, some of his petulance having returned. “Such a trial is beneath me."

  Elwin ignored Vramon, his eyes never leaving Finn's face. “What of those not named?"

  "Guilty, Sire.” Finn met the High King's stare. “All eight of them."

  Elwin was quiet for a moment, and it seemed to Alric as if a breathless eternity had passed before the High King gave a single, clipped nod. “Let it now be known that the men identified as traitors by young Finneas of Hume are the selfsame men so named in Winthrop's documents."

  No sooner had Elwin made his pronouncement than the room erupted as each guilty councilor shouted his denial—a couple of them going so far as to attempt escape. Elwin delved into the chaos, summoning a fresh wave of guards into the fray. It took ten additional soldiers to rein the wayward councilors in, but they soon had the situation under control.

  "Escort these gentlemen,” Elwin curled his lip as he said the word, “to the dungeons and await my instructions."

  The guards did as they were told and the offending councilors—still struggling and shouting their denials—were led away. Only when the last of the blackguards had been removed did Elwin show the true depth of his weariness.

  Sinking into his chair, Elwin faced the remaining councilors. “Now I trust you understand the urgency with which I summoned you."

  "Perhaps.” Lord Ruan eyed Finn
, who was still standing at the edge of the dais. “If the evidence against them is correct, ‘twould seem we're fortunate indeed that young Finneas was here to lend his talents."

  "Talents, you say?” Lord Vramon snorted. “I still say we've no way of knowing whether this man's so-called gift is real."

  Elwin started to speak but Finn spoke up before he could.

  "Begging your pardon, Sire, but I'd be glad to give Lord Vramon a demonstration if you'll allow it."

  "What say you, Vramon?” Elwin leaned back in his chair as he put the question to the doubting man. “If Finneas offers you proof of his claims, will you lay aside your reservations?"

  Vramon cocked his head to the side, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them as he considered the question. A long moment passed before he gave a reluctant nod. “If I'm satisfied the evidence is solid, then yes, I will."

  "Fair enough,” Finn said as he made his way back to where Vramon was sitting. “Your hand, my lord, if you please."

  Vramon extended his hand, and Finn clasped it tight. Alric sat rigid in his seat, watching as Finn's eyes went wide.

  Dropping Vramon's hand, Finn took a step back.

  "Well, what did you find?” Vramon folded his arms over his chest. “I haven't got all day, boy."

  Finn's eyes made a nervous trek around the Council chamber before landing back on Vramon. “Perhaps, my lord, it would be better if I give you this evidence in private."

  "I hold no secrets from my fellow councilors.” Vramon curled his lip. “Besides, ‘tis doubtful you've learned anything, anyway."

  "Very well.” Finn straightened, and there was a glint in his eye Alric couldn't quite place. “My lord, does your wife know that you and Lord Trandower have been having an affair?"

  Fits of coughing and sputtering erupted from those seated at the table, and even Gareth and Tristam seemed to be having a hard time digesting the information, if the bewildered expressions they each wore were any indication.

  The fair-haired Lord Trandower seemed to be caught between amazement and denial, for several times he opened his mouth only to have no sound come out.

  For his part, Lord Vramon said nothing, only sat staring at Finn as if he'd gleaned a new appreciation for the man. Finally, to Alric's amazement, Lord Vramon's lips curved into a genuine smile.

  "As a matter of fact, boy, my wife knows all about us. Once or twice the ol’ girl has even joined in."

  Trandower's face turned a shade of red Alric had never seen before. It was at that point King Elwin took back control of the conversation.

  "Vramon, that was entirely too much information, but I thank you for your candor.” Elwin looked out over the rest of the councilors. “I hope this puts the matter of Finneas's powers to rest."

  "I'm satisfied with the boy's assessment, but we've a bigger problem to deal with.” Lord Ruan steepled his wrinkled hands on front of his face. “With the Council now in tatters, the governing body of Orielle is unbalanced.” Ruan pinned Elwin with sharp eyes. “You've been expecting this to happen since the day you received those missives from the King of Winthrop, haven't you?"

  "Yes.” Elwin didn't bother to deny it. “I've long suspected some of you were plotting a coup to oust me from my throne. I admit I never expected so many to be conspiring against me at one time, but I can't say I was surprised."

  Ruan nodded. “After today's display, I can see where you wouldn't be. And if you're half the king I know you to be, I'd be willing to wager you've thought of a way out of this mess."

  "I have, though I vow not a one of you is going to like it.” Elwin looked to Finn, who was still hovering beside Vramon. “Take a seat, Finneas. If I were you, I'd want to be as far away as possible when I announce my decision."

  Finn nodded and came to sit on the other side of Alric even as Elwin was rising to his feet. Standing tall at the head of the table, Elwin said, “In light of your contemporaries’ treachery, I've decided to abolish the High Council all together."

  "Damned if you will.” Vramon made the denial, and the gray-haired councilor next to him, the one called Adleron, seconded the sentimen t.

  "I've been a member of this Council for nigh on forty years, long before you were even a glint in your father's eye, boy. You haven't the right to dismiss me like some old pile of useless chaff."

  "Yes, he does.” Ruan rose from his seat, his spindly legs popping out a loud protest. “According to Orielle's bylaws, word of the High King is sacrosanct and subject to question only by a majority of the High Council.” Ruan heaved a heavy sigh. “Since the majority of this Council is about to be convicted of high treason, we've not number enough to lodge a protest. It seems, gentleman, that the High Council has just been rendered obsolete."

  "We'll see about that.” Vramon stood with force enough to overturn his chair. “This isn't over, Elwin.” He pointed one short finger at the High King. “I'll be rotting in my grave ere I'll allow some royal upstart to knock me from my place."

  Once he made the vow, Vramon turned on his heel and stormed from the dais, hitting the tile floor with jarring force before stomping from the room. After a quick glance at Elwin, Lord Trandower followed his lover out.

  Adleron also stood, and though the look he cast in Elwin's direction flared with a raw, burning hatred, Adleron held his tongue as he quit the room.

  Three of the remaining councilors followed Adleron out, and though none of them spoke directly to Elwin, Alric was sure he heard mutterings of retribution and dissent as the three of them made their exits. Within moments, only Lord Ruan was left standing at the table with Elwin.

  "It seems,” Ruan said, “that you've just knocked me out of a job, my boy."

  "So it seems.” Elwin's voice was firm and held not a hint of apology. “If you've a threat to make or an argument to wage, I'd just as soon you state it now and have done with it."

  Ruan shook his head. “I imagine I'd have done the same thing were I you. Half a council is of no use to a man trying to keep his finger on the pulse of a kingdom."

  In response to Ruan's comment, Elwin smiled for the first time since the ordeal began. “In that case, old man, I have an offer for you."

  "Oh?"

  "I want to make you my chief advisor,” Elwin said. “I need a man with your experience on my side."

  Ruan considered him for a moment. “You've plans, I take it."

  "Absolutely.” Elwin eyes never wavered from Ruan's face. “Over three hundred smaller kingdoms are currently pledging fealty to me. ‘Tis too high a number for me to police with any accuracy, and as such, attempts like this one to overthrow me are going to become common place."

  "Now wait just a moment.” Tristam stood, his posture tense and angry. “If you're proposing to do away with some of our kingdoms—"

  "Peace, King Tristam.” Elwin held up his hand. “Major kingdoms—those who lay claim to vast armies and multiple villages such as Drystan and Kray—will remain intact. ‘Tis the smaller kingdoms, especially those whose loyalty I have reason to question, that will be changed from kingdoms to baronies. The sitting kings of each of these kingdoms will be given patents of nobility, but no longer will they rule their domains as sovereign."

  Tristam wasn't satisfied. “And just how many of these kingdoms do you plan to eliminate?"

  "Two hundred or more.” Elwin faced him with a surety that kept even Tristam quiet. “That will leave one hundred kingdoms standing, and I'll ask each remaining king to report to Banning once each year to provide me an accounting of the previous year's progress.” He braced his hands on the table's edge. “'Tis my goal to shape Orielle from the loose, mismanaged federation of kingdoms my forefathers built into a nation to be reckoned with.” His eyes gleamed with ironclad resolve. “All those who refuse to ban with me will be dealt with."

  Tristam opened his mouth to speak, but Alric beat him to it. Pushing up from his chair, Alric said, “You've my allegiance, Sire.” He bowed low. “I am at your bidding."

 
; "Thank you, Alric.” Elwin's eyes lit on Gareth. “And what says your consort?"

  At the question Gareth came to stand beside Alric. “I am yours to command, my King."

  Seeing himself outnumbered, Tristam joined his lot to theirs. “May your will be done, High King."

  Elwin thanked the three of them with a bow of his own, to which Ruan snorted.

  "If the four of you are finished with the arse kissing, we've still a problem to confront, or have you forgotten?"

  "Lucien of Denmar.” Elwin exhaled a long rush of breath before speaking once again to Gareth and Alric. “I'm afraid what I have to tell you of him isn't good."

  Alric tensed, but Gareth seemed to be expecting it. “I'm guessing Denmar was smart enough not to sign his name anywhere on those papers Winthrop provided."

  Elwin answered Gareth with a short nod. “Unless one of the treasonous councilors admits himself to be in collusion with Denmar—a situation I highly doubt—we've only Winthrop's word that Denmar sent those missives."

  "What of the letters written by Holden of Stiles?” Tristam's voice held a weak thread of hope. “Holden indicated at least once that Denmar was conspiring against not only the Kingdoms of Drystan and Kray, but against you, Majesty."

  "Maybe so, but the last scribblings of a dead man carry little weight against the word of live witnesses.” Elwin's lips pinched into a tight frown.

  A thin trail of gooseflesh rose on the surface of Alric's skin. “You're speaking now of Denmar's so-called charges against Gareth."

  "I am.” Elwin pivoted so that he was facing Alric fully. “Denmar has convinced no less than ten men—all of them nobles in good standing—to testify of advanced knowledge on their parts of a plot masterminded by Gareth to destroy all Denmar holds dear."

  "That's a lie.” Alric's denial was hot and swift. “Denmar is the one who's been plotting against us all from the beginning."

  "Of that fact, I have no doubt, but Denmar is damned cunning.” Elwin sighed. “Without more proof—"

  "Then ‘tis my word against his.” Gareth finished Elwin's sentence, speaking with grim certainty. “Even with the kings and kingdoms I've got backing me, there's no way for you to prosecute Denmar without also bringing charges against me."