Bacchus was the last to join the group. He wove his way towards the front, the men parting for him in some reverence, but never taking their eyes from Blaine. He was the Champion of the Light, after all. Bacchus, for all his charisma, remained merely Bacchus. Chelos, sitting low behind a wall of fresh new faces, was lost from sight.
Blaine cleared his throat, then addressed the crowd. “Dwna bless you, my friends.”
“Dwna shine upon us,” they recited back.
“I have gathered you to speak about a growing issue among our numbers. This issue is, simply put, human baiting. Let me be clear, I do not condone it. It is also a waste of valuable time on your behalf to be engaged in it.” He swept his gaze across the Light Bearers, looking many in the eye as he did so. “Directing your energies elsewhere will be a far better way to serve the Gods. Our northern outposts require more men. A strong garrison at the Nest will be vital to our long term—” He stopped speaking, hearing a murmuring among the Light Bearers. “I am accustomed to silence when addressing the faithful.”
“Why should the humans remain?” someone said. They had spoken just loudly enough to be heard and no more. No heads turned to face the speaker and mark him out from the crowd.
“The war is over,” another remarked.
“The war is not over,” Blaine said. “Rectar lives. So long as he exists, the war will never be over.”
“It’s been months, Lord Guardian.”
“Rectar would have attacked by now if he had the strength to do so.”
“Never make assumptions about our enemy. The Shadow works best in confusion and darkness. Until this city is made strong again, the humans are here to shore up our defences.”
“They should not tarnish our holy city.”
Blaine gripped the edge of the pulpit box, and a reminder of his weakened grip only flared his anger. “The humans are beneath our Gods’ attention and so they should not consume yours. It was false belief in the relevance of humans that led the Guardian Norbanus into a disastrous war and a bloody battle in the swamps. Yes, this city of ours is a holy site. We stand beneath the very spot Dranus reached out and touched the minds of the Gods. Yet none of you suggest removing the islanders from their homes after the Awakening on the Nail Head? If our Lords Dwna, Dwl’or and N’weer are troubled by the human presence in this city, they would say so.”
“You asked the Gods for a sign upon that mountain.” This had been Bacchus. Blaine faced him slowly, fighting to keep his composure. Bacchus looked at him earnestly. This wasn’t some ploy, he really thought he was onto something. “You asked our Gods for a sign and they answered.” Bacchus stepped closer to Blaine, his voice rising. He looked out across the assembled Light Bearers. “We all remember.”
A great deal of muttering and nodding of heads followed.
Blaine pressed his lips into a thin line. He’d never expected an answer. The truth was that he believed he was giving up the Guardian’s Blade the moment he’d thrust it into the ground by Bacchus’ feet. To call for a sign again and receive none would only shatter their confidence and faith in him. It wasn’t worth the risk.
“The Gods are not nursemaids nor tutors at our beck and call,” Blaine said. “We cannot request guidance on every matter. Where would that end? The Gods chose to lift us all up at our lowest point. Let that be enough.”
Let that be enough, he thought to himself. He’d said the same words to Lira this very morning. Let that be enough. Why were they always looking to him for more? Always more than he could give.
“Perhaps a sign could be sought in some other way?” suggested a Light Bearer by the door. An excitable buzz grew this time.
“Listen to me,” Blaine said. “The Shadow of Rectar is the more pressing issue. Humans are, for better or worse, our allies in this fight. They have been instrumental in this war, I cannot deny it. Yes, we fought against some of them at the Bastion – a rogue group twisted and tainted by the darkest magic. Dragons suffered such a splinter in our race with the Black Dragons millennia ago. Do we condemn ourselves for this? No. If you seek to please the Gods, then help prepare for the next great fight to come. I sense we draw to a final confrontation. One in which the Shadow will be cast over this world forever or new Light will reign down from Dwna above. Let the humans go from your minds. Brother Bacchus,” Blaine added, extending an open palm to him. “What say you?”
Bacchus’s mouth twitched. Few would have seen it, only those Light Bearers at the front if they had been paying attention. Blaine knew Bacchus’ feelings on the matter but decided that a test of loyalty was due. His word still carried weight with many of the faithful. If he united with Blaine there should be no further problems.
Bacchus smiled serenely and spoke to the crowd. “The Lord Guardian has the right of it. Let us focus our energies towards rebuilding our northern defences, this city and the lands of our people. It is a shame that the purity of our city lies in question, yet it must be borne. Were it so, that there was a way to rid ourselves of this vexation. Alas, there is none.” He faced Blaine, arms outstretched and dramatically dropped to one knee. “Heed Blaine’s words for he is the Light’s Chosen.” The Light Bearers stomped their feet in approval. Those with shields bashed them loudly and Blaine rose a hand for silence.
“I hope this is the last I speak on this issue. Go now and carry out your duties. Those who wish to volunteer for the northern assignments should see Brother Bacchus.”
The Light Bearers slowly exited the Inner Sanctum. About ten lingered back to speak to Bacchus, hopefully putting themselves forward to join those Light Bearers and members of the Third Legion that were already stationed at the Nest. The more the better. The old fort at the fork of the Crucidal Road was in a sorry state, or so the initial reports had said, and supplies and tools were in short enough supply, never mind the manpower.
Blaine eyed the group huddled around Bacchus for a time before slinking down from the pulpit. He brought his maimed hand in front of him this time, so those left in the sanctum would not see as he made again for the freedom of the balcony.
“I shall see you at this evening’s sermon, Lord Guardian,” Chelos said from behind.
Blaine jumped. He’d forgotten Chelos was even there.
“Very good,” he said. Chelos left without another word. Voices from the sanctum faded. Feet tapped, the door thudded shut, and Blaine was left alone with his thoughts.
So often, he was alone.
Chapter 5
THE PRINCESS AND THE SHOW TRIAL
“To date, the longest span of time without an Assembly is fifteen years. A time of peace, prosperity and frustratingly little intrigue. It is not worth my ink to recount.”
— From A Lengthy History of Brevia by Maddock the Scribe
Cassandra – Brevia – The Assembly Hall
FROM HER ADVANTAGE point in the Royal Box, Cassandra held a commanding view. Eight triple-tiered-platforms rose like stumpy trees, running four abreast down the hall. Each tier was for a Great Lord and his retinue, in full pomp and ceremony. Two of the eight were empty, however, what with Lord Boreac dead and Lord Annandale about to go on trial. To cap it all, she was to give testimony as part of the proceedings.
Restless from waiting and nervous about speaking before all these people, she repeatedly smoothed the green silk of her huntress dress shirt.
“Take a swig of this dear,” Oranna said. She gave her hipflask a shake.
Cassandra accepted it gratefully, inhaling the smell of smoked-oak wood that wafted from the canister. She gulped too eagerly and felt the whisky burn down her throat, but managed to avoid spluttering.
“I think you’re starting to like the taste,” Oranna said.
“Well, if I am? It’s your fault.” She winked and gave the Queen a nudge for good measure. She raised the flask again for another calming swig, but Oranna pried it from her grasp.
; “I reckon one’s enough,” Oranna said with a wry smile. “You do have to be coherent and stand of your own accord down there.”
Cassandra grumbled and leaned forward, resting her hands on the back of the bench before her. Then sat back and fidgeted with her fingers to channel some of the leftover nerves.
“How long until it starts?” Cassandra asked.
“Once all the representatives are in their seats,” Oranna said. “We’re still waiting on the islanders.”
Down on the central stage, Arkus himself was pacing in long strides. He wore his customary black robes trimmed in white, and even had his crown on today. Pausing, he looked to his wife and daughter, offering a wave, perhaps looking for a smile of support. Cassandra smiled politely and waved back, then sat upright so as not to look weak to him. Oranna, however, pressed her lips into a thin, distasteful line and folded her arms across her white gown. Her smile might have been more genuine if it had been carved from stone.
Cassandra leaned in. “We’re in public, Oranna.”
“I’m aware, dear,” Oranna grumbled. Yet only then did a radiant smile break out across her face. She waved to Arkus who, once satisfied, went back to his pacing. Oranna’s jaw stiffened and she turned to Cassandra. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Annandale was part of Castallan’s inner circle. Why wouldn’t I want to give testimony?”
“Because he suggested it,” Oranna said, nodding towards Arkus.
“No… I definitely offered.”
Oranna raised an eyebrow. “Are you quite sure about that? I remember that dinner. He did lay it on thick how hard it was to find witnesses, how important it was to be seen dealing justly with Annandale, even if we all know how the last Lord turned ou—”
“Oranna,” Cassandra said sharply. She glanced around to check no one had overheard. The hubbub of the hall would drown out most conversations, but a keen-eared listener on the benches behind might overhear. Finding no eavesdroppers, she whispered fiercely, “Some things are best left unsaid.”
Oranna arched an eyebrow. “They may well be, but don’t turn into him now, dear.”
Cassandra took Oranna’s hand. “I don’t intend to. I understand why you’re angry at him, believe me. I didn’t appreciate being lied to and used. Still, everything he did, he did for you, for Thane.” For me, she thought but didn’t wish to say it aloud. That might make it more excusable. Murder, however done, was a hard thing to excuse.
“For the family,” Oranna ended, echoing Arkus’ well-worn reasoning. She gave a disdainful sniff and lowered her voice further, so Cassandra could barely hear her. “I think a large part of what Arkus does, he does for himself.”
“I don’t think you’re wrong,” Cassandra said. “But things have been better, right? And after this Annandale business is sorted out, he’ll calm down.”
“I admire your optimism,” Oranna said. “Let’s just get through today first and see.”
Cassandra nodded and turned her attention back to the Assembly Hall at large, taking interest in the arrival of the delegation from the Golden Crescent. Lord Esselmont himself climbed the short flight to take his seat atop the Crescent’s allotted tier. It was hard to tell at this distance, but he seemed a trim man with the same matching blond hair of his son, Gellick. He was down at the bottom of his father’s tier, helping their entourage arrange the wheat stalks and baskets of grain they had brought as decoration.
“They usually scatter the grain willy-nilly,” Oranna said. “This seems a rather pointed way of saying how the war has affected the harvest.”
“As if Arkus is responsible for demons stamping all over the Crescent,” Cassandra said. “I thought Esselmont was in father’s pocket?”
“He’s just taking what little dig he can,” Oranna said. “I note that the merchants haven’t reduced their piles of coins.”
Cassandra looked to the far end of the hall where representatives in purple velvet waistcoats busily stacked coins atop sheets of gold cloth.
“It’s a good thing that you’re here to keep me right,” Cassandra said. “Nothing I’ve read mentioned all this decoration.”
“Well they’ve been doing this since I was a girl at least,” Oranna said. She pointed animatedly towards a central tier that belonged to the Hinterlands today. “And as you can see, unlike the penny-pinchers amongst us, my father does not stint on his adornments.”
Oranna’s father, Lord Clachonn, was already in his seat, peering around at his colleagues. Cassandra couldn’t make out his finer features at this distance, but couldn’t fail to notice a theme of grey, from his well-combed hair, to the well-fitted waistcoat and trousers. To adorn his tier, he had brought statues of bears, wolves, mountain goats and other animals from the northern fringes of the kingdom; each one a rare coloured rock, shining from a lacquer coating.
“In fairness, we can hardly compare rocks to crops,” Cassandra said. She faced the Queen again, concerned. This mood wasn’t like her. “Is everything alright? How is Thane?”
Oranna squirmed. She fished out her hipflask and took a drink of her own.
Cassandra gently stopped her taking another. “One’s enough, right?”
Oranna nodded and placed the flash away.
“I thought he was doing better,” Cassandra said. “I haven’t heard him cough during the night for nearly a week.”
“I thought so too. But he had a rough morning. Threw up his breakfast after a fit of coughs over not being allowed to come to the Assembly with us. I had Gellick take him out to the gardens for a walk and fresh air.” Cassandra tutted and looked back across the hall towards the jailor’s box, folding her arms tightly. Oranna sighed. “I know you don’t care for Gellick but—”
“He’s a lickspittle who is quick to reach for threats and violence,” Cassandra said. She could almost feel the stinging pain where he’d struck her with the back of his rough gloved hand.
“I had no idea he was going to – oh, let’s not drag ourselves into this again,” Oranna said.
“I told you, I don’t blame you,” Cassandra said. It was true, Oranna had only been looking out for her and that was hardly a crime. “I understand why Arkus ordered it, and I understand why Gellick followed it. But I’ll never forget it. You said something similar to Thane once, as I recall.”
“I meant that to be in the context of our enemies. It saddens me it must apply to those around us as well.”
“Well you have me,” Cassandra said. “I can take care of Thane next time. I’d be happy to. I don’t get to see him as much as I’d like, and I bet Gellick isn’t much fun. Probably too worried about dirtying his armour or handkerchiefs to play on the grass.”
“I thought you’d like time to prepare for today. Next time for sure. Thane enjoys being with you, though I’m afraid to report he likes Gellick just as much. Young boys have a habit of looking up to knights in steel with awe, and Gellick is nothing if not the idol of that. Still,” Oranna added slyly, “I fear Gellick doesn’t quite have your wits. Nor is he as proficient in a game of hide-and-seek, clanking and shining with every move.”
Cassandra’s chuckle developed into a hiccup, which set Oranna off laughing harder. The Queen composed herself in a rush, taking a deep breath through her nose.
“I think no drink for you next time,” Oranna said. “One must compose oneself at these ghastly public occasions, but I’m glad of it today all the same.”
An announcement from behind them signalled the arrival of the final delegates, those from the Splintering Isles. They carried in a long ship’s mast upon their shoulders and propped it up behind their designated tier. They fastened it in place and pulled the white sail out until it was taut, securing everything with thick, weathered rope. Cassandra leaned forward over the edge of the Royal Box to observe the proceedings, wondering if she was to finally get a glimpse of this Lord Somerled. When it was
announced that Lord Somerled had sent an ambassador in his stead, Cassandra looked to Oranna to see if this was normal.
Oranna shrugged. “It’s not unusual for Somerled. He likes to show minor defiance in this way. Often he’ll send his son instead, but I imagine Grigayne is preoccupied by the war.” She glanced around the hall. “That looks like everyone now.”
As though in sync with the Queen’s thoughts, the royal announcer boomed in his ringing voice, “All will stand for the King’s Lament.”
All rose and the two court minstrels took centre stage beside Arkus. The minstrel in white produced his flute and struck up the now familiar song while the minstrel in black began to sing.
“There once was a black-haired beauty, with starlight in her eyes…”
“Every time,” Oranna whispered.
Cassandra held her tongue. She understood why Oranna was upset, yet didn’t feel that Arkus needed to come under attack for it. The tribute to her mother did not hold the same place in Cassandra’s heart as it did for him, but there was something comforting in hearing it all the same. And as the singer sang his final sad words, and the flute rang its last sombre note, she could, for a moment, feel her father’s pain for that loss.
With the song over, the minstrels departed and the lords and ladies took their seats. Arkus wasted no time in facing them all in turn, smiling broadly, his arms open.
“You all know why you’re here today, so I shall not waste your time on preamble. These are hard times, and our task is a stark reminder of that. We’ve faced fractious rebellion, terrible infighting and a costly war in blood and gold. But here marks the end of that discord. Whatever the verdict, we will move forward together stronger than before.” He allowed a moment for his words to be absorbed before sweeping dramatically towards the merchant’s tier. “I call upon the honorary Lord Jasper, Head of the House of Tarquill, to conduct these proceedings as a fair and impartial observer.”
The Dragon's Blade_The Last Guardian Page 5