Sword and Illusion

by Nancy S. Brandt

  "So you're saying it isn't?"

  Raphael laughed again and stood. "I don't want to talk about this. We're both in the same situation. Either one of us could be on the receiving end of a very bad verdict. I know that I did not intend to injure Everard."

  He looked at Varian. "Can you honestly say the same?"

  Taking a deep breath, Varian shook his head. "I did not want to see Lord Olivier killed. If our intentions matter, I think I will be cleared of any wrongdoing."

  "Intentions. Hmm." Raphael looked out the window. "Have you had to deal with traitors on Tellan? Men who would see the people beaten down and mistreated for the sake of power and greed? It is hard to fight every day for your very life."

  "Our people were sent to Tellan by such men, generations ago," Varian said. "Our world was a barren rock when we were exiled there, but we changed it, made it a paradise known throughout the Worlds. Now, a descendant of those who exiled us is trying to get it back. And yes, my life is on the line for my people. I must fight not only this man, but other forces outside my control. So I do understand fighting every day."

  Raphael looked at him, and then said, "It seems we both may have need of the Exalted Warrior's help."

  Before Varian could respond, Sister Calmeye entered the room. "The Exalted Warrior is ready to see you now."

  ****

  Moonrazer sat on her throne. She didn't look at Varian and Raphael as they entered or at the other Candidates where they stood along the far wall.

  Sisters of the Flame and other spectators were gathered behind a row of Sarl guards, dressed in ornate uniforms of red and yellow.

  The Mother Prioress hurried over to the accused.

  "The Exalted Warrior will conduct the judging for each case separately. You must not speak at all during the other man's Judging."

  "But they are both connected to the food tampering," Varian said.

  Whiteshadow furrowed her brow. "Be silent, and trust in the Sword, Prince Varian. If you are honest, you will be acquitted."

  She walked back to the throne.

  Moonrazer looked at the men. "Prince Raphael and Everard, approach the throne."

  The two men did so. Everard leaned on a walking stick. Thick bandages covered his right leg. Raphael's face paled as he stared at the Sword of Justice.

  The weight of the responsibility rested on Moonrazer's shoulders, as full and heavy as the battle dress she wore. She touched the golden circlet on her leather helmet, the cold metal a reminder of her status as lawgiver.

  "Prince Raphael, you stand before me charged with the attempted murder of Everard, a worthy Candidate in the Choosing Ritual. Murder is reprehensible in any case, but even more so when attempted in the conduct of a Ritual. This is the reason this Judging is occurring so quickly after the accusation."

  She kept her eyes fixed on the man, who squirmed a bit under her gaze.

  "Do you have anything to say for yourself before the Sword of Justice tells us the truth?"

  "Would it make any difference?" Raphael asked.

  "If you are guilty of this crime and you confess, you will be spared the Sword's judgment. Leniency could be offered, and execution would not be instant. So, Prince Raphael, I ask again. Do you have anything to say?"

  He looked at her while the tension built in the chamber. "I did not shoot this man with malice. I thought I saw a glacier deer coming toward me through the woods, but at the time I wasn't even sure where I was." He held himself tall, and any trace of fear vanished from his face.

  "As you wish," Moonrazer said. She took a deep breath and lifted the Sword above her head.

  She felt a vibration in the hilt and heard a low hum. Looking at the blade, she expected to see it glowing blue as judgment. However, no glow appeared but the vibration continued for several seconds.

  When the humming ceased, the Exalted Warrior lowered the Sword. She looked at Raphael, her eyes narrowed. "You have lied to us. You are not a prince."

  A gasp went through the crowd, and Whiteshadow's face paled.

  "Exalted Warrior, I can…" Raphael began.

  "Silence." Moonrazer's voice echoed around the massive room. "You should consider your words very carefully. While you have not been found guilty of attempted murder, your honesty and honor have been damaged, possibly beyond repair, and you do not want to endanger your life by invoking my wrath."

  The man dropped his head. "No, Warrior."

  Whiteshadow stepped forward. "The Sword of Mercy is at your disposal, Moonrazer."

  "I am not at all interested in mercy." The Exalted Warrior did not take her eyes off the man before her. "I want truth."

  "Moony," Adazzra started.

  "No, Adazzra. You will not speak. I have allowed you here as a witness, but you have no authority."

  Moonrazer feared she'd hurt her friend's feelings, but this was serious, and she couldn't let herself be influenced to soften her rule.

  "Man," she said, "and I call you 'man' because that by which you were known to us is a lie, and I refuse to speak a lie. You came to Carrick to enter the Choosing Rituals under false pretenses."

  She saw him raise his eyes to her and swallow, waiting.

  "My first inclination is to sever your head from your body for the insult of pretending to desire to be my mate. Unfortunately, my duty to the Sarl prevents me from killing a man simply because he has played false with my emotions. I must be honorable and fair, even when I have not been dealt with honorably or fairly."

  She met and held his gaze until she saw a sheen of sweat build up on his forehead.

  "Who are you?" she asked softly, but with an edge in her voice that would hold with no more deception.

  He took a deep breath and released it in a shuddering expulsion. "My name is Piers Michael of Beaufal, and apart from concealing my true name, I did come here with honorable intentions."

  "What intentions could be so honorable that you would come under a false name? Where is Prince Raphael?"

  Again Piers swallowed, and he wrung his hands. "He was the rightful heir to the Beaufal Throne."

  "'Was'?"

  "Beaufal is now ruled by the usurper Clyde Corvidus or Clyde the Bloody as his subjects call him."

  "And this rightful heir, Prince Raphael?" Moonrazer asked. "Did you kill him?"

  "No, Warrior. That I swear. My men found him along the road near the forest where we live. I believe he was killed by Clyde's men. He was our only hope against the usurper."

  "I see." Moonrazer touched the hilt of the Sword of Justice, but it did not vibrate or in any way indicate that Piers was lying. "Continue."

  Piers Michael took another deep breath, but he seemed to be more at ease. The secrets he'd been carrying must have been a great burden. "He was apparently on his way here because he carried the invitation to the Choosing." He looked at her. "The might of the Sarl is legendary throughout the Known Worlds, and my men and I realized how useful your warriors would be in our rebellion against King Clyde."

  "You are the leader of a rebellion?"

  Piers shook his head. "Not as such. I am merely the leader of a band of men who have been thrown out of our homes and lost our titles because of Clyde's greed. We gather in secret to try to find a way to free the people of Beaufal."

  "And you thought if you won the Choosing, I would use my army to help you?" Moonrazer stifled a small smile at the audacity and ingenuity of this man. He was the kind of strong man she might have chosen to be her mate.

  "It was my hope."

  "You are brave, if possibly foolish," she said. "You traveled all this way with no assurance that you would be chosen, yet you took the risk because you want justice for your people."

  "If you knew the conditions under which the people of Beaufal live, you would understand my desperation."

  Moonrazer nodded. "The Sarl have, for all eternity, been charged with upholding justice through the Known Worlds. I make you this promise. I will investigate what you say for myself."

  She saw hope s
pring into his eyes.

  "After the Choosing Rituals are complete. Until then, I send you home in peace, and I expect you and your men to remain honorable and brave if you want my help."

  Piers bowed. "You have my apologies for not coming to you openly to ask for your help, and my assurance that my men and I will not kill the king or any of his men without sufficient reason."

  "Thank you, Piers Michael of Beaufal. You have my permission to leave Carrick in peace."

  She spoke to Whiteshadow. "I am fatigued, physically and emotionally. The judgment of Prince Varian will occur tomorrow."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lucan glanced down the hall, and when he was sure no one had followed him, he slipped into Whiteshadow's room.

  "Oh, there you are," she exclaimed. She stood from where she had knelt before a star on a side table. "I thought you had been held by the warriors."

  "Why would they hold me?" he asked, searching her face.

  "Why have you not taken me into your arms?" she asked, taking a step toward him. "What happened?"

  "That is what I came here to find out. The other Candidates were given poisoned food. Did you have something to do with that?"

  "What?" She looked as though he'd struck her, but she didn't deny the accusation. "How can you ask me that?"

  "Whiteshadow, you were the last one to handle the meals. I'm sure the Sisters who prepared them had no reason to do this. What did you do?"

  "Why do you think I did anything?" She picked up a poker and began fussing with the low embers.

  "Your plan depends upon me being the Consort Intended. I think you'd do anything you could to ensure that outcome."

  "And you think I am capable of poisoning food?"

  He approached her and put his hands on her waist, pulling her toward him. "I think you believe your cause is just."

  She spun around to face him. "My cause is just. The Holy One has given me a mission, and I will see it completed successfully."

  "No matter what it takes?"

  "Do you not believe in me?" She looked into his eyes, and Lucan felt his heart melt.

  Whiteshadow was so beautiful, and he loved her with his whole being. However, she was so dedicated to what she saw as her duty, that she frightened him sometimes. How far would she go to become Exalted Warrior? Was he dispensable if he became an obstacle?

  "I do believe in you, my dove." He kissed her deeply.

  When he pulled away, he looked into her green eyes. "I do not have the same confidence in the Holy One's will. You'll have to forgive my questions. I'm only trying to understand."

  "Of course, my darling." She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his head toward her for another kiss.

  As his brain filled with the heady scent of her spicy perfume, he wanted to scoop her up into his arms and carry her away from this Tower, the Rituals, and even the Sisters of the Flame.

  He wished they could escape to a place in the mountains of his home world. No one would bother them or even need to know they were there.

  They could live together, love one another, and raise a family to care for a strong herd of horses. They would have everything they needed.

  His desire for her grew stronger, and he tried to nudge her toward the bed, but she pulled away, a look of triumph on her face.

  "You do amazing things to me," she said, "but we need to find a way to keep Moonrazer and the Sword of Justice from investigating the food tampering." She turned her back on him and walked over to her table, on which papers were scattered.

  As though an icy wind had blown through the room, Lucan felt his blood grow cold.

  "You did poison the food."

  "No, of course not, my love." She smiled but her eyes were scanning a scroll in front of her. "It was not poison. Merely an herb that caused the other men to become confused."

  Lucan strode to her. "Lord Olivier was killed, and Everard was injured and could have been killed. Tell me you didn't intend that."

  Now, she looked at him. "Of course I did not. All I wanted was to confuse them."

  She reached for his hand, and even with the misgivings poking at the edges of his mind he gave it to her.

  "How do we know that Prince Varian did not kill Lord Olivier in malice?" she asked. "Do we really know that his mind was affected by the herbs?"

  "Why would he have done that? He has always been a man of honor, at least from what I've seen."

  "He is your biggest competition in these Rituals, Lucan. Never forget that."

  The harshness in her voice made his stomach clench. "You don't believe that Moonrazer will choose me? You were so sure before."

  Whiteshadow rubbed her forehead. "I sent invitations to royalty and nobility that I knew were clearly too old or feeble for her to consider or those that I knew were already married. I did not realize Prince Varian's wife and son died five months ago." She spoke through clenched teeth. "He was not supposed to be here."

  Lucan stared at the woman he'd given his heart to. "And you don't believe I'm a better man than he is?"

  "That's not the point, darling." She faced him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her supple body against his, rekindling his involuntary reactions.

  "Of course you are the better man, but I have to make sure Moonrazer sees this. That is why I used the herbs. I knew that with his magic abilities he could cloud her mind to your obviously superior qualities."

  She pulled him toward her for another kiss, but he resisted and stepped out of her embrace.

  "So, what do you intend to do now? Moonrazer is going to find out who tampered with the food. The Sword of Justice won't be easily fooled."

  Whiteshadow squeezed his hand. "I have been thinking about this. The only thing we can do is find someone else to blame for the tampering."

  ****

  When Olaf woke, the first thing that registered in his senses was that he wasn't cold any longer, and he was surrounded by lush trees, flowering bushes, and vines sagging with heavy fruit.

  It took him a few seconds to realize he lay on a wooden block, which seemed to be part of a path woven through the plants.

  The hue of the sunlight told him it was early evening.

  Someone or something moved around on the other side of the wall of corn stalks next to him.

  Sitting up, he stared at the plants, stunned at the implications of what he saw.

  This couldn't be Carrick. Corn could not grow here. The soil, under the snow and ice, wasn't suited for it.

  He reached out and touched one of the stalks. It felt real and he could smell the subtle aroma of the growing plant.

  However, there was something else, a subtle stirring of the magic within his bones. He'd felt this same thing when he was in the maze right after he'd been changed from a statue to a living man in honor of Moonrazer and Adazzra's rescue of the Dreaming Giant.

  There was Giant magic in this place.

  Suddenly, he heard a gasp and saw a young girl, no more than sixteen years old, standing at the end of the row of stalks. She held a small stone pot in her hand from which grew a single tulip stem.

  She had deep blue eyes and waist-length black hair tied at the nape of her neck with a white ribbon.

  "It is you," she said, her voice no louder than a sigh. "I wondered if you would come today."

  "You're not surprised to see me?"

  "When the Portal appeared in the middle of my garden, I thought you might come." She set the pot on a nearby table that was already covered with similar pots containing various flowers.

  "Does it appear often?"

  "No." She wiped her hands on the dark red apron she wore over her dress. "I have only seen it twice before."

  Olaf looked behind him at the Portal. "What came out then?"

  "Nothing."

  He followed her as she walked to another section. Vegetables of more kinds than Olaf had ever seen grew here, and she began tending them.

  "This is going to seem like a strange question," Olaf asked, "but am
I still on Carrick?"

  The girl smiled. "Yes, you are. You have come to save the Sarl from the Navin. The Holy One sent you."

  Olaf stared at her. "Why do you say that?"

  "The Holy One speaks to me in my dreams. He showed me your face, and a time when the Sarl were not hidden away on this island. I saw my parents and myself standing before a woman holding the fabled Sword of Justice. A man was with her, wearing a crown, with tears running down his face."