No, Logan could never go home again, there was only one option left for him now. He would have to head north for a one-way ticket over the wall and into the wild lands. Given the alternative between that and death, he was not left with much of a choice. Far down in the city below he could hear the commotion of guards searching for him, as Logan turned north, accepting his fate with grave determination, and put the world he had known to his back.
Sounds of shouting across the ballroom caught the attention of Arch Councilor Zacharia’s group. “I say, what do you think all that commotion could be, your holiness?” a thin, beady-eyed aristocrat asked, adjusting his small spectacles to look over at the west wing.
Elise leaned into her fiancé; she was not accustomed to wearing dresses like this one and felt off balance, craning her neck to see what the man was referring to. The arch councilor had been giving them a treatise on trade law, in answer to one of the merchant’s questions, when they were interrupted.
“Hmmm.” He muttered, fingering his curled moustache.
Corbin could see the pointed tips of tridents bobbing quickly through the crowd, heading toward the commotion, and an uneasy feeling already settled over him. He grabbed Elise by the arm and pulled her behind him to see what could be happening.
Just then, a blinding light flashed across the crowd, lighting up the entire west side of the ballroom, followed by a loud boom as the ground shook beneath the aftershock of the blast. All around them men and women were screaming and racing to get to the exit.
Arch Councilor Zacharia called to a woman nearby. “Lady Penelope, get Madame Elise out of the palace immediately!” He pulled Elise from Corbin’s arms, giving her to the Lady as if she were precious cargo.
“Corbin, you come with me, your fiancée will be safe with Lady Penelope. I may need your services.” Corbin did not like the idea of separating from Elise in all this commotion, but had no choice as she disappeared into the chaos with Lady Penelope and her flanking guards. Elise shouted for him from somewhere among the jumble of people, but he did not dare to disobey the arch councilor, quickly moving to follow him.
Making their way through the throng of people was not too difficult, anyone that saw Arch Councilor Zacharia quickly scrambled to get out of the tall man’s path. Corbin stopped twice to help people to their feet, feeling if he did not that they had a high likelihood of being trampled to death from the half-hysterical swell of aristocrats almost fighting to get out of the palace.
“Magistrate Fafnir, what is the meaning of all this?!” Arch Councilor Zacharia demanded, as the old lawman was being helped to his feet.
“Milord, there has been an assassination tonight.” The magistrate proclaimed, pointing down the side hallway to the limp body of a gnome. Around the corpse were three palace guards examining the scene under the orders of their nearby commander.
“Who would have the audacity to murder someone here in the House of Ciotti?” Arch Councilor Zacharia asked, the thought of murder under his nose madness to the man.
“I am the unfortunate bearer of disturbing news, it would appear, milord. But it was none other than Logan Walker himself that committed the foul deed.” Fafnir feigned regret, informing the arch councilor of eyewitness accounts that saw the man stabbing Mr. Beauford to death.
“This is preposterous! My brother may be a lot of things, but a murderer is certainly not one of them!” Corbin argued, denying the statement with every fiber of his being.
“Similar words you spoke yesterday, if I recall Corbin, as we were on the way to release him from jail. It would seem there is much about your brother you do not know.” Fafnir coolly replied, in a mock attempt to calm the young man’s outburst, before turning to address Arch Councilor Zacharia again.
“My liege, I take full responsibility for these events, just yesterday the boy had a violent outburst not too far from the goodly gnome Beauford’s shop. I let him out of section six, not wanting to believe a hero could be involved with such goings on, but now we see the young man is clearly dangerous.” The magistrate admitted, bowing his head in shame.
“It is true, Arch Councilor, Dame Uriel saw him stabbing Mr. Beauford with her own eyes.” The commander added, stepping into the discussion, while his men were moving the dead gnome out of the hallway. “My own men came upon the murderer, dagger in hand, covered with the goodly gnome’s blood, your holiness.” The man explained, shutting up any counter argument Corbin could think to muster. He stammered, wide eyed, not knowing what to make of these claims.
“Master Beauford… but why would a hero of New Fal want to murder the goodly gnome?” Elder Pruett asked, overhearing the proclamation as he walked into the fray. The room was much sparser now, most of the partygoers having evacuated the palace, leaving only council members and palace guards.
“Black market deals, no doubt.” One of the other elders commented.
Lady Cassandra had arrived as well, furrowing her brow at the man’s claim. “I was just talking with both men only a short while ago, and they certainly did not seem to hold any ill will toward each other.” She said.
“You see, there you have it, another eye witness that they were together. I have dispatched my men to kill the murderer on sight, Arch Councilor.” The magistrate insisted, making Lady Cassandra bristle.
“That is preposterous! This boy must be brought in alive. How else can we be sure he had a hand in Beauford’s murder, unless he stand trial before the Council?!” he passionately interjected.
“Lady Cassandra is on the right side of it, Fafnir. We have not taken complete leave of Fal laws.” Arch Councilor Zacharia agreed.
Just then, a soldier rushed up to whisper in the magistrate’s ear. Fafnir widened his eyes at the news.
“Further proof of his guilt!” he dramatically announced, tapping his cane on the floor with excitement. “There has been a break in at the Grey Crow, my men found Logan Walker there and tried to detain him, but alas he has escaped.” He informed the other elders.
“Are you listening to this rubbish?” Cassandra asked the arch councilor, pointing at Fafnir. “Just how did you get men to the gnome’s storefront this fast, Magistrate, do tell?” her suspicion that the corrupt lawman was involved was confirmed by this proclamation.
“Milady, Falian watchmen receive the finest training, honing their skills for years, preparing for any situation. That they already arrived is only proof of their prowess and a testament to the glory of Fal.” He countered, slyly turning her accusation to his advantage.
“Yet they were ousted by a young man from a farming village?” she mocked.
“Oh enough of this you two. We have serious matters to attend to here; you are not on the pulpit swaying votes.” Arch Councilor Zacharia barked at them, irritated by the squabbling. “Corbin… is this true? Was your brother arrested yesterday?” he asked.
“To my people’s great shame, it is, milord.” Corbin answered, unable to meet the great man’s gaze.
“Magistrate, your men are to capture Logan Walker alive. I will have him brought to me personally for questioning. The council will see the truth, however if he resists arrest, or tries to harm your men, he is to be put down.” Arch Councilor Zacharia ordered.
“Your word is law, your holiness, consider it done.” Fafnir humbly acquiesced, with an overly dramatic bow, before turning to give his men the new orders as the arch councilor led the group to the back of the palace.
“Sir what are your orders?” the soldier who had delivered the news of the break in asked.
“Finish the job at the Grey Crow; make sure there is no proof in the building before you burn it to the ground.” He replied, careful to keep his voice down.
“And the boy?” he asked.
“Make sure Logan Walker does not make it back to the Palace alive, execute him on sight.” Magistrate Fafnir ordered, the icy tone of his voice leaving no room for failure.
Like a cat gliding from shadow to shadow, Logan mo
ved quickly through the deserted upper level streets of Fal. He had just narrowly avoided a passing patrol of watchmen before making it all the way to the top level of the city, heading as fast as he could muster toward the wall. He was still not sure what Fafnir’s men were looking for back at the Grey Crow, or why the despicable man had ordered his execution, but either way he knew he needed to get out of the kingdom, and fast, if he had any hope of surviving to see another day.
In the distance, he could hear watchdogs braying in search of his scent, confirming there was no more time for thinking, only for action. Just around the curved road, he carefully followed the movements of the men guarding the great wall; they were more concerned with the wild lands than the city streets. His muscles tensed, coiling back like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey, as he carefully timed their patrol. Seizing the moment, Logan slipped behind one of the guards and caught him in a headlock, squeezing with just enough pressure to cut off any airflow without breaking his windpipe. He wanted the man to be unconscious, not dead. Once he was down, Logan slid his backpack off to the side and pulled out the rope he had commandeered from the Grey Crow. His fingers were working quickly to loop it over the parapet when another guard shouted for him to stop. The man blew hard on an elk horn to alert the watch he had found the outlaw.
Logan cursed to himself, running straight past the soldier, throwing him off balance, and then stopped short, looping back around the way he had come. The guard was baffled by his actions, until he saw the rope that had now been wrapped around his torso. Before he could look up and plead for Logan to stop, the outlaw jumped straight off the ledge, rope gripped in both hands, pulling him hard across the ground to slam in between the jutting merlons, with the rope hanging through the gap, acting as a human grappling hook. The guard clutched tightly to the stone around him, breaking his fingernails as they scraped along the rough surface. He prayed to the All-Father not to let him fall through the embrasure, as Logan nimbly made his way down the fifty feet of rope, having to drop the last stretch through the open air where the cord ended.
Other city watchmen arrived as he made it to the ground, letting loose a barrage of bullets from muskets and revolvers at the fleeing outlaw, but thankfully none found their mark. It did not take long before Logan was out of view, hidden in the menacing shadows of the wild lands.
“He won’t last long out there fellas, probably be dead before the week’s end.” One of the men gruffly assured his companions.
“Yeah? Great, you tell that to the Magistrate.” Another meekly added.
Logan smirked, hearing the guards overhead arguing over who would deliver the news of his triumphant escape, yet in his heart he felt nothing but sorrow, knowing he would never again set eyes on his homeland or speak to his brother. With one last look at the towering marble wall, that mighty barrier to the kingdom of New Fal, he turned toward his fate, hustling through the shadows and wondering what life would mean for him now that he was an exile.
High above the land, nestled just below the cavern ceiling of New Fal, the Great Crystal Baetylus took interest in the little human’s flight. Layers of light flickered over its multi-faceted glassy surface as the implications of this event rolled over the Falian god, stirring him from the grogginess of his recent slumber. It was a first to see a human willingly jump the wall. Generally, they were begging to not be exiled from the kingdom below. The curious Crystal scanned Logan’s mind, searching for some clue that would explain this rare event.
Sharply, the future danced before Baetylus, revealing that this was more than a mere moment of idle fancy. His flickering thoughts turned into a thunderous storm of swelling concern. What he saw had only taken the briefest of moments, but in that snippet of scrying, Baetylus had understood enough to know that Logan Walker needed to be stopped, for if he was allowed to continue, everything would be at risk.
Chapter 13
From floor to ceiling, the Chamber of the high council was bathed in white marble. The rows of seats, which were set in a semi-circle around the center of the room, in two curved tiers where the Council of Elders held court and on occasion invited members of the aristocracy to sit in, were almost full today. The elders did not always meet in private, in fact many hearings were often held publicly, so all could witness their glorious justice system. Speakers would stand in the middle of the white room, where often a pulpit would be setup. Large metal plates were fixed to either side of the central area, with solid steel rings vertically protruding from them, where prisoners could be chained while on trial. It was not always a place for criminal trials of course, with many laws being passed, debates being addressed or support being given to the newest “cause”.
Unfortunately, Corbin was not there for any of those reasons, in fact he was actually rather perplexed as to why the council had called upon the house of Lady Penelope to send for him in the first place. Every member of the Council of Twelve was in attendance, as well as a handful of other dignitaries he did not recognize. He knew Magistrate Fafnir and had heard Lady Cassandra speaking the night before when everything went south at the gala. However, he still could not figure out why he was summoned, did they really mean to punish him for his brother’s accused crimes? Was he really to pay for Logan’s sins in the wake of his cowardly flight from the capitol?
“Corbin Walker, you have been summoned before the Council of Twelve. We see you.” Arch Councilor Zacharia opened the proceeding.
“We see you.” The other eleven chanted. The room had an odd way of bouncing sound back and forth against the walls, giving an illusion of other-worldliness, which raised the hairs on Corbin’s neck. The Twelve sat there, eyes on him, waiting for some sort of response.
“I… see you, Councilors?” Corbin meekly asked.
“That will do. Let the proceedings begin.” Arch Councilor Zacharia said, gesturing to an older woman, who began recording the conversation with a quill and ink.
“Corbin Walker, your brother has been charged with the murder of the honorable gnome, Barthalameu Beauford of the house Ul’Brox. It has been duly dictated by this council that he must be brought in for questioning, to stand the trial of truth.”
“Your holiness, I wish there were some way I could be of assistance but...” Corbin began, but was sharply cut off.
“But what? There can be no but in Justice. There can be no gray area in the lines of black and white that make up our morality. This council has given the matter great deliberation, great deliberation indeed. There are those in favor of immediate execution.” Corbin was shocked to hear this. He had always been taught that every citizen would have their trial if accused of crimes.
“Be at peace, Corbin, we mean not to follow that point of view currently.” One of the elders attempted to quell his uneasiness, sensing the young man’s fear. He noticed Magistrate Fafnir sneer slightly at the woman’s statement.
“The crimes of your brother must be answered for; less how will your village remain in proper standing within New Fal? We do not intend on sending any aid toward the rebuilding of Riverbell until this matter has been properly tended to.” Fafnir spoke out of turn, receiving a cross look from several of the elders.
“Your holiness, I do not understand this, last I was informed, my brother was seen fleeing the city into the wild lands. How can we handle this matter without him, and why would the people of Riverbell be penalized over his actions?” Corbin made sure to address Arch Councilor Zacharia directly, as scared as he was of openly questioning the wisdom of his leaders, he still demanded justification for the sudden retraction of the support his people were in dire need of receiving.
“There has been much debate over Riverbell’s involvement in the recent skex attack. Rumors are flying around the capitol that this has all been part of a larger plot fabricated by your people, fueling the insect swarm for the sole purpose of gaining notoriety that could be later used in gaining influence over this council, thus growing a power that could be used for the Akathi rebellion
.” Corbin could not believe his ears, had the whole world gone mad to think his peace loving people could be capable of such a nefarious plot?
“It has been decided that you will be sent into the wild lands to prove your people’s innocence. If you truly believe in the glory that is New Fal, and hold no ill will toward our way of life, you will bring your brother back here, where the council will try him and the truth will be known. If you refuse, we will have no choice but to believe the rumors are true and will move to immediately excommunicate the village of Riverbell and all of its citizens, setting strict sanctions in place against your people.”
Eyes wide in shock, Corbin took a step back. “But... I... I... surely you cannot believe we are traitors to the kingdom?” he stammered, wishing Elder Morgana was there to help them see reason.
“No. We can see your truth. You are an honorable young man, who is clearly devoted to the ideals that make up our kingdom, and a faithful disciple of Baetylus. However, that could simply mean you were not aware of your brother’s plans, and does that not indicate there would likely be other traitors in Riverbell?” One of the elders explained pragmatically.
“It has been decided. You have two options here, either agree to go to the wild lands and bring Logan Walker back to Fal, where we will hear him and judge as our law dictates. Or refuse and we will have no choice but to cut ties with Riverbell.” Arch Councilor Zacharia said, offering no room for an alternative scenario.
“I am the very servant of the Kingdom, milord. My people have ever only acted in accordance to our laws. We are proud to be citizens of New Fal, and I fear I must be bold here. What you are saying is not fair to those families in Riverbell who have done nothing to deserve such slanderous accusations.” Corbin firmed his resolve, unable to stand by idly while false words were directed at the people he loved.
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