The Dead God's Due (The Eye of the Lion Saga Book 1)

by Matt Gilbert

  The rest of the Elders barely flinched as the guards continued to pour in. Only Lucreta gave even the slightest indication of distress, as she slowly closed her eyes, unable to watch what was to come. “Have mercy!” she called out.

  Kariana laughed her new laugh, the really wicked and evil one that came so easy now. She struggled to commit the scene to memory, so she could accurately describe it later. What a grand tapestry this glorious victory would make!“ Kill these traitors! Kill them all!”

  As one, Maranath, Prandil, and Ariano rose, fists clenched, eyes wide and aflame with passion and arcane energies.

  “Have mercy!” Lucreta screamed again.

  The room wavered like a mirage in the burning sun as invisible waves of power erupted from the three Meites in a widening circle of swirling ether.

  “Mercy is for the weak,” Ariano called out in a sing song voice.

  Lucreta lowered her head and wept.

  Ariano opened her mouth wide, and sound poured fourth, multiple voices in perfect harmony, so liquid that it could almost be seen as well as felt and heard. It quickly rose in pitch and volume, bouncing back and forth from the stone walls, folding upon itself and gathering power with each echo, until it was the shriek of a hurricane trapped within the confines of the courtroom.

  The huge, stained glass windows imploded, the sound of their shattering like a thousand cats running on piano keys. Millions of glass shards rained down in chaos, jagged, grisly death for all below. With a sudden jolt, the deadly missiles jerked sideways, organized now into a coherent unit, gravity no longer their master. Brilliant sunlight reflected in a dazzling display from the razor edges as they spun and leapt in unison, a school of shilling fish dancing in the air.

  The shards darted toward the entrance, no longer fish but hawks. Screams of pain and streamers of blood erupted from the confused guards as the birds of prey ripped through their ranks, leaving death and dying in their wake.

  Beyond the entrance, the hallway was filling with more guards, responding to the cries of their fellows. Maranath lowered one hand and reached toward the ground as if he were grasping an invisible carpet, then jerked upward. Screams of tortured metal and stonework echoed throughout the palace as the floor outside the courtroom door lifted itself, jagged spikes of stone erupting at random points and impaling any guard unfortunate enough to be near. As his hand reached shoulder height, Maranath jerked it downward again as if cracking a whip, and the floor responded in kind. The raised section surged forward like a tidal wave, stone and steel rending and exploding with shrapnel as it conformed to new shapes. The wave roared down the hall, dashing hapless guards to bits against the walls and ceiling as easily as the sea breaks mighty ships of war against rocks. It struck the doors at the other end of the hall, tore them from their moorings, and kept going, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

  Kariana sighed. Well, she hadn’t expected to win, not really. Again, it was freeing. I might as well die with some style. With a cry of abandon, she jerked Sadrik’s knife from her shirt, leapt from her seat, and charged headlong for Narelki.

  Prandil boggled at her briefly, then backhanded the air in front of him. Invisible force hit her in the chest like a sledgehammer, and she felt herself lifted into the air like a rag doll. She came down hard at the feet of the statue of Tasinal, gasping for breath.

  So this is how it ends. At least they will remember Empress Tasinalta the Mad for a long time. Maybe they will frighten children with tales about me. She smiled at the thought. That’s so much better than being a stupid whore.

  Prandil surveyed the carnage and sighed. His face lit with a sudden realization, and he turned toward the back of the courtroom. “Maklin, you lazy wretch, you might have lent a hand, you know! We could have been killed!”

  Maklin didn’t even look up. “You’re still alive,” he muttered.

  “We might not have been!”

  Maklin grunted at this, unmoved. “Can’t you see I’m busy here? And it’s not as if you did much yourself. Beat up a small girl, oh, very powerful indeed.”

  Prandil struck an indignant pose, hands on his hips and brown, pointed beard quivering with feigned outrage. He’s pretty good at that. “It’s hardly my fault these two hams stole the show. I was quite looking forward to a fight, but it was over too quickly.”

  Maklin waved a hand dismissively. “Just so.”

  “There are always more fools,” Ariano told him, her voice still edged with strange harmonics. She was no harmless little old lady anymore. That mask had slipped from her the moment the fight began. Not really a ‘fight’. More of a ‘slaughter’, actually. Now, her green eyes sparkled with deep, brilliant malevolence, and her mouth twisted in a cruel sneer.

  The same was true for Maranath. His cane was gone, as was all pretense of frailty. He stalked toward her with all the vigor of a young man, his eyes windows into the heart of a lightning storm.

  In the distance, the sounds of metal shod boots on stone echoed toward them, more guards, more unsuspecting victims.

  “You have done enough!” Lucreta shouted, tears still streaming down her face. “You have the power to spare lives, too, damn you!”

  Kariana spit out a mouthful of blood and stared out at the carnage. She couldn’t help but chuckle at her own gross underestimation of the Meites. Who would have fingered Ariano or Maklin? Mei, it was beyond anything she had imagined, though. In a few moments, they had devastated the thousand-year-old courtroom and killed at least fifty men. I wonder if they will get in as much trouble as I did about the guard killing thing? I doubt it. The marble floor beneath their feet was slick with blood. She looked up at Tasinal’s scowling statue, feeling as if her face would crack open with her mad grin. He seems...pleased.

  Prandil eyed Lucreta warily for a moment, then raised his hands and smoothed the air before him. The courtroom entrance conformed to his will, stretching and smoothing itself into a solid wall. “We’ll finish our business without their interference.”

  Narelki shook her head in distaste. “At least there is that.”

  Maranath turned toward her more sharply than he might have, and spat, “You disapprove? We should have let this fool kill us all for sake of decorum?”

  “Of course not,” Narelki told him. “But it was costly. It will be hideously expensive just to replace the guards, to say nothing of the courtroom. The glass, the stonework, it was all priceless.”

  “Oh, my dear, you need not worry,” Ariano told her, laying a hand upon her arm in sympathy. “Has not Talus always provided for the beauty and truth of Nihlos?” Narelki’s eyes flickered at this, but her face remained impassive as Ariano continued. “I have a precious few students who excel at both sorcery and craftsmanship. With Yorn’s help, we will have the whole place repaired in a week.”

  Without looking up from his notebook, Maklin raised a hand and nodded agreement. “I have ideas for a few new features, as well,” he said. “It won’t take long to draw up the plans. I’ll start as soon as I am finished with this.”

  “Then at least there is some good news,” Narelki said in a sour tone. “Shall we resume?” She paused, waiting for objections, but none came. “Then we shall add to the agenda a discussion of Tasinalta’s fitness to serve, to be determined after we settle the current business. Maranath, as eldest, it is appropriate that you conduct the proceedings.” She speaks to him, but she doesn’t look at him. Why?

  “Very well,” Maranath agreed. He was once again a very old man, limping to take his place at the desk. He stood over Kariana, where she still lay in a heap. “Get up, you idiot,” he told her. “It will go better for you if you hold your tongue until we choose to deal with you.”

  Kariana wasted no time in obeying. She nodded and scrambled to her feet, standing on shaky legs. She took a seat by Davron, doing her best to appear as dignified as possible after such a sound thrashing. Davron gave her an amused look and gestured to his lip to indicate where she was bleeding, then turned back to the judge
’s desk.

  Maranath nodded and cleared his throat. “Caelwen, bring forth the Southlander.”

  Caelwen whispered something to Aiul, most likely a death threat, and stepped forward with Sandilianus. The Southlander stood silent and respectful.

  “I see we have your attention,” Maranath noted.

  “Aye,” said Sandilianus. “That display was difficult to miss.”

  “Intentionally so,” Maranath said with a nod. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Spy, not a spy, attacker or not, etcetera.”

  Sandilianus returned his own grave nod. “We did not come as enemies.”

  “And yet we are enemies now, whoever is at fault.”

  “And I have seen too much of you to be ransomed.”

  “Just so,” Maranath said. He stroked at his beard, thinking. “You would prefer death to prison, I presume?”

  “An honorable death, yes.”

  “We will grant a proud warrior an honorable death, then, if there are no objections,” said Maranath. He glared pointedly at Kariana, daring her to speak, but she remained quiet, eyes lowered. I may be stupid, but I am not that stupid.

  Davron passed Kariana a napkin for her lip and rose. “Southlander, you would die in battle?”

  “Aye,” Sandilianus answered.

  “Then tomorrow at dawn, you will face twelve warriors, one after the other,” Davron said. “You may choose the weapons.”

  “And if I am victorious?”

  Davron’s face lit with a broad grin at the notion. “Survive twelve of my best and I will grant you my name, Southlander.

  Several of the Elders gasped in shock. Narelki pursed her lips in disapproval. “Surely you jest?”

  Davron looked toward her, obviously offended. “I do not joke about killing, lawyer.”

  Narelki shook her head vehemently. “You cannot name an outsider. That would be unprecedented!”

  Davron pointed a finger at the Southlander, keeping his gaze on Narelki. “If he is victorious against such odds, I think we had best be prepared to surrender more than our names to his people.”

  Kariana giggled inwardly to see Narelki skewered so well. Narelki blinked as she absorbed Davron’s comment, then shrugged and took her seat. Davron stood another few moments, as if waiting for her to challenge him again, then took his own seat, muttering under his breath, “Cunt.”

  Polus quite clearly heard the insult, but made no response. They probably agree on that. Kariana looked at Davron in surprise, and he raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile on his lips. She couldn’t help but grin, and took the opportunity to squeeze his thigh in a gesture of camaraderie. He smiled at this, then gently but firmly removed her hand from his leg. I should have known you preferred goats to women! It was hardly the truth, but the real reason was too painful to cope with at the moment.

  Maranath cleared his throat, demanding their attention. “The prisoner will be remanded to House Noril” he noted. “Caelwen, secure the Southlander and bring forth Aiul.”

  Kariana could not look at Aiul as he passed. It simply hurt too much. She stared at the floor, struggling against tears.

  Maranath waited until Aiul was settled, then gave him a nod of recognition. “Amrath Aiul, you stand before this council of Elders, accused of conspiring with foreign agents to assassinate Tasinalta. How do you plead?”

  Aiul would not look at the old man, preferring to stare at the blood-streaked floor. “Guilty,” he said, his voice numb and devoid of emotion.

  “We know your tale. You are a historian as well as a physician, are you not?”

  Aiul looked up at this, annoyed. “You know full well I am.”

  Maranath nodded and waved both hands as if to fend off a rabid beast. “Decorum, boy, decorum. Now shut up, will you, and don’t bother thanking me for saving your life, eh?” He stared at Aiul until the younger man broke eye contact. “Now, as for your punishment, you know of Aswan. His sentence shall be yours.”

  Aiul did not answer for long moments, merely stood in silence, staring at the floor. “Aswan had to pledge loyalty to Tasinal to be forgiven,” he said at last, his voice quiet. “I will pledge my loyalty to you right now. I never wanted to do anything but live my life, and see my child born and grow. I am not a rebel by conviction, merely by necessity.”

  Prandil rose, his brow furrowed. “It is not so easy as that. Do you understand the true nature of Aswan’s crime, why he was punished?”

  Aiul nodded and swallowed hard. “His crime was letting his pride overrule his sensibility. He misjudged his strength.”

  “He refused to back down from a clearly superior force,” Prandil said. “He fought even when he knew he could not win. His sin was waste.”

  “Just so,” Maranath agreed. “What Prandil is trying to say, and failing, is that your pledge is misplaced. You cannot swear allegiance to us. Tasinalta defeated you. You must swear it to her.”

  Aiul’s jaw bulged as he absorbed Maranath’s words. “No,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “That, I will not do.”

  Maranath nodded, smiling despite himself. “I think none of us expected any other answer. Nevertheless,” he said, growing somber once again, “There are well established consequences for such defiance. You understand the choice you are making?”

  “What of my property?”

  “It will remain yours,” Maranath told him.

  Aiul nodded. “I understand my choice.”

  “Objections?” Maranath asked the room. Kariana bit her tongue, knowing that speaking up now would only make things worse for her, later. The rest of the elders nodded their agreement.

  “Very well,” Maranath said. “Amrath Aiul, you are sentenced to the pit until such time as your pride is outgrown by your intellect.” He gestured to Caelwen. “Remove the prisoners to one of the other rooms. Our remaining business is not for their ears.”

  Kariana tried to gather her thoughts as she watched Caelwen march his two charges into one of the adjoining chambers. The bitter, metallic taste of fear made it difficult to concentrate, despite the urgent need to do so.

  “Tasinal Kariana,” Maranath called, his voice dripping disdain. “Have you anything to say for yourself?”

  Kariana shrugged and stared at the floor, emulating Aiul’s manner, though inwardly, she was anything but resigned to her fate. “What is to be said?” she muttered. “Clearly, I overestimated myself. Am I permitted the same mercy as the Traitor? I won't squander it like he does.”

  Maranath leaned across the desk, eyes wide and amused. “Tasinalta, the ‘Blood of Tasinal’, bends a knee?” he asked.

  Kariana burned as if immersed bodily in acid as she choked out, “I do.”

  Narelki called out, “Tasinal’s Mercy does not apply to her. This situation is unprecedented.”

  Kariana licked sweat from her lips. “Is there precedent for the removal of a ruler of Nihlos?” She said it as if it were a rhetorical question, but she honestly had no idea. It was just a die cast into the wind.

  Narelki froze, considering the point. Score!

  Ariano looked at Narelki with disgust. “There is no need for precedent where there is sufficient power and will.”

  Kariana didn’t like the sound of that. “There is precedent for the absence of an emperor,” she sighed. “And it’s not good.”

  “You would compare yourself to Tasinal?” Prandil asked, shocked. “I am amazed at your arrogance, child. Even in defeat, you preen and strut. I think I may be in love!”

  Kariana had an answer. Maralena had prepped her with any number of clever responses, though she hadn’t expected them to be used in quite this manner. “’Arrogance is not merely the right, but the duty of a ruler.' So said Amrath.” She stole a glance toward the Matriarch of House Prosin and couldn’t help but smile at her obvious distress. Please, have a stroke right here in the courtroom!

  Narelki inclined her head to stare down her nose at Kariana. “Quoting Amrath is far from understanding him,” she said. “And it is unseemly, conside
ring your recent attempt to murder his progeny.”

  “’The truth does not change, even when spoken by enemies,’” Kariana quoted again, grinning her hate at Narelki and Maralena both, daring either Matriarch to take some foolish action. “Amrath’s words are for everybody. You don't own them.”

  The raised platform creaked as Olemus rose to speak. Mei, it is a tent! I swear it! “She is correct,” he told them. “I care little for the politics here, only the practical results. The youth is quite fond of her antics, even if they hate her personally. Kariana’s appetites and behaviors have generated whole new industries. We may not have Meites battling in the streets, but we could certainly see economic chaos, perhaps even riots. It would be quite destructive.”

  Prandil scowled at Olemus and declared, “You are a gutless worm.”

  Olemus shrugged at this. “You are the one who suggested putting her back on the throne.”

  “That was before she tried to kill us, idiot! Or did you take a lunch break and miss the exciting part?”

  “Ah, I see,” Olemus said, defiance on his face. “You’re some special kind of Meite, one without blood on his hands?”

  Sadrina put her fingers in her mouth and let loose with a piercing whistle. “Bravo! They’re all wicked fiends!”

  Prandil cast a genuinely murderous glare toward her. “The opinion of a mooning cow means nothing to me.” He turned back to Olemus. “As as for you, I succeeded at any killing I ever got up to, and that is the crucial difference here.”

  Kariana could barely contain her elation. They were all at one another’s throats. Maybe they will kill each other! Wouldn’t that be something? “I submitted,” she said. “I bow to your will! Can I not be forgiven like Aswan?”

  Maranath sat back in his chair and regarded her with tired eyes. “Sparing your hide is a far cry from returning a madwoman to power.”

  She had something perfectly calm and reasonable to say, but couldn’t for the life of her remember it now. “Who, then, old man?” she shouted. “After your ‘demonstration’, only a madwoman would want the job!”

  Maranath sat in silence, one eyebrow raised in surprise, a smile flickering about his lips.