“That is very likely. However, we can’t know how much our adversaries know of you and how you came to be here. If I am to provide an adequate defense, I need to be aware of any points they may bring against us so that I may refute them, or bring you to witness accordingly. If the adversarial barristers bring Mordum to witness, and they most assuredly will, because of his powers he may know a great deal more about your situation than you may believe.”
“And of course there’s the possibility that he might lie, but over my word his will hold the greater weight.”
“It is not the Enkilder way to lie.”
“Perhaps not, but if you have laws and the office of Arbiter, then some Enkilder must have been false at some point.”
“I’ll not argue the point with you, we’ve too much else to focus our efforts on. What it comes down to is this: do you trust me?”
Elias rolled Malak’s words around his head. That the Enkilder was a person of honor was clear. He had already proven himself worthy of Elias’s gambit. For all that, he was of a different world, a different race, and his loyalty belonged to the Enkilder. Nevertheless, Malak made a solid point, and in his heart Elias knew he was right. He had no doubt that Mordum and his cohorts had already planned his demise. Elias remembered well Leosis’s Abeotium and the glares and murmurs he caught from many of the Enkilder. Of the few things he could count on, the certain one was that the majority of the Enkilder wanted to see a sentence of guilty passed by the Arbiter.
“I do trust you, Malak. Under different circumstances I’d like to think that we could have been friends.”
Malak shot him a wan smile. “Then let us hope that circumstances will change.”
“Before we get into the particulars, tell me, what are the punishments if I am found guilty? As you are a pacifistic people I can’t imagine that you’ll put me to death.”
“No,” said Malak, but his features became drawn. “If either of you are found in breach of the First Law, the traditional judgment is exile, though there are none who have been litigated for those crimes. But if you are found in breach of the Second Law, the practice of forbidden arts, you will be sentenced to life imprisonment. A life in desmene. I am sorry.”
“Then we had best see that I am not found guilty,” said Elias. “Now, get comfortable. My tale is a long one.”
Chapter 18
Trial
Nyla laid a hand on the blasted patch of earth. She could still sense the residual traces of the magic that had scorched the grass and turned the pebbles to glass. She picked up a fire-smoothed black crystal of glass and rolled it in her hand. She wondered if this would be the last piece of her mother she would ever have to hold onto.
Returning to her childhood home was out of the question. She had dared to approach within earshot of the modest dwelling her father had raised from the bones of earth. Growing up on the outskirts of Enkilder society had made her a child of the forest and gave her an advantage in passing unseen. Yet the Enkilder staking-out her house were Mordum’s cohorts, and she knew they could detect her with their not inconsiderable Arcanum. Still, her instructors in the arcane arts had been the incomparable Leosis and her mother, who could have been Speaker in her own right.
For the last several days she had occupied her time with traversing the little known avenues of Illedium and gathering information on the fate of her mother and Elias. Putting to use the lessons her father had begun and her mother had continued, Nyla used her magic to phase-out, as her father had called it, and pass unseen. She had to be careful, though, for fear that someone with a discerning eye or highly-developed senses would detect her presence. Her father had told her that phasing-out was a secret of the highest Arcanum, and was the very same school of magic that their forbearers had used to sequester Illedium away in a place between realms.
“Secret means secret, Ny,” her father had said. “I don’t want you sharing this magic with anyone, I don’t want a single Enkilder to know that you have this ability.”
“Stars and Stones, father,” she whispered into the rising sun, “why did you leave us in the time of our greatest need? Surely you of all people saw this coming.”
Nyla startled as she felt a brush against her shoulder that felt remarkably like a hand. She threw herself into a dead sprint, raising a shield as she did so. She pivoted, heart in throat, only to discover that the stone garden remained as empty as it was when she had arrived. She shivered as goosebumps spread like greased fire across every inch of her body.
Her eyes came to rest on the singular, black-barked tree that Elias called wytchwood, the very same tree under which he had gated into their world. The rising sun illuminated the wytchwood from behind and created the illusion that the tree was awash in red fire. The wind rustled past her and sent the wide blade-shaped leaves singing in an ancient harmony. In that haunting nature’s song, she fancied she heard a voice calling to her.
Nyla, daughter of Leosis, son of Gracen, dropped her shield and made her way toward the singing tree.
†
Elias was startled awake from a black sleep by a burning in his right forearm. He ripped his arm from the blankets and glared at the runes branded into his forearm. He half-expected them to glow like angry red coals, so powerful was the sensation, but they cast no light. Not wanting to squander any warning they might be providing him, he cast off his covers and leapt into a combat crouch.
His heart counted out the passing of seconds which stretched to minutes. When nothing happened, he exhaled a breath that he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. He rubbed vigorously at his arm and looked out the window at the rising sun. Why had the mystic runes drawn him from his slumber? He imagined he would likely find out sooner than later.
The days were growing shorter, and colder. Elias wondered how the season was turning in his time, if spring had brought full bloom yet to the palace gardens. He turned his thoughts back to the present with a shake of his head. As his father had told him on the day Macallister came to their homestead—the day he set out on the road to becoming a Marshal—one must be always mindful of the threat at hand and deal with that first before borrowing trouble on other matters. It seemed like that advice had come from another life, but his father’s words were as true now as they were then. He had to escape Illedium, the desmene, before it was too late.
Presently, his thoughts turned to Nyla. If he felt the bite of the autumn in the air, high above the world in his gilded prison, then how did the cold teeth of the season feel to the displaced child? Elias shared Teah’s feelings that Nyla was a resourceful person, and her natural wit would serve her well. For all that, she was young, at least in Enkilder terms. He prayed that she stayed safe in the wilderness, but also that she avoided the heart of Illedium, for he feared that if she happened back into the bosom of her people she too would end up in desmene.
Elias draped Leosis’s cloak about his shoulders and rang the bell to alert the servants of Cormn’s household. As there would be no more sleep for him this day he might as well have his tea.
†
Elias walked into the audience chamber, ignoring the weight of a thousand eyes. Malak walked at his side, carrying a satchel brimming with books and miscellaneous documents.
“Keep your head up,” he had told Elias that morning before their departure. “Don’t affect a look of arrogance, but one of confidence. Don’t let the mob see you cowed or afraid. You are a tower in the wind, impervious to their glares.”
Malak had also told him to wear Leosis’s cloak as it would be a stark reminder to the people as well as the Arbiter that he had the former Speaker’s favor. Elias did so with as much nonchalance he could muster while keeping the desmene artfully concealed beneath the drape of the hunter-green fabric. To further drive the point, Malak had insisted that Elias dress in high Enkilder fashion in a tunic very much like Leosis used to wear. According to Malak, Leosis preferred a more classic style with a long, mid-leg length surcoat whereas the fashion of the day called for a sho
rter waist-cut.
“If we could dye your hair, and get rid of those awful, black eyes, you could almost pass for an Enkilder,” Malak had joked. None in the packed audience chamber wore a smile now, however, save for perhaps Mordum, whose lips flirted with an expression that rode the edge between smug and secretive. Elias supposed he had much for which to be smug about, and secretive.
After they had sat, Elias fixed his eyes straight ahead, as Malak had instructed, and resisted the urge to glance around the chamber or fidget. Harder yet was resisting the urge to look to Teah, who sat behind him in the first row awaiting her turn for the preliminary deliberations. Malak occupied himself with laying out his books and documents on the table before him while they awaited the Arbiter.
Presently the Arbiter swept into the room from an alcove in the rear of the chamber. After they were all seated Arbiter Cormn wasted no time in addressing the hall. “Are the adversaries prepared to make their opening statements?”
Barristers Byrne and Celiba both stood and confirmed their preparedness by saying, “Yes, Arbiter,” in tandem.
Cormn turned his attention to Elias and Malak’s table. “Is the defense prepared to make their opening statement?”
Malak took a breath and stood. “Not as yet, Arbiter.”
Cormn studied Malak for a beat, his expression unreadable, but Elias had the distinct sense he was less than pleased. “You realize, Barrister Malak, that my question is a formality. You are expected to be prepared to argue this case.”
“Understood, Arbiter,” Malak said with a deferential dip of his head, “however, before the defense is ready to proceed with this Arbitration they wish to make an appeal on a point of law.”
“Objection!” cried Celiba. “It is customary for the defense to lodge appeals or complaints during the preliminary palaver,” she said, pausing to shoot Malak a withering glare, “not on the first day of Arbitration.”
“I will remind the Council,” returned Malak at once, “that I was not assigned to the accused until after the pleas had been entered on the day of the preliminary palaver.”
“Agreed,” said Cormn. “The Council will entertain your appeal.”
“It is written,” said Malak, “in article five of both the First and Second Laws, and I quote, ‘should the occasion arise where two individuals are held before the Arbiter for breach of the First or Second Laws, wherein the accused are held in burden of the same crimes, having occurred in tandem, their Arbitration may be argued as a single case, with the same summary judgment passed upon both individuals. This clause may be invoked by either the Council of Arbitration, the defense, or the adversarial barrister.’ Hence do I hereby invoke article five of both the First and Second laws, and appeal to the Council that Teah, daughter of Cyril, and Elias, known as Wayfarer, be tried under a single Arbitration.”
Celiba surged to her feet. “Objection! Barrister Malak merely wishes to angle for clemency for his client by joining his fate to Teah’s.”
“Barrister Malak’s motives are not grounds for objection,” said Cormn, “but only points of law. The Arbiter will take a palaver.”
Cormn waved a hand and a shimmering screen went up before the raised platform upon which the Arbiter sat. Elias soon learned that the shield was designed to ensure privacy, for while he could see their blurred forms beneath the bubble of magic, not a single sound escaped the arcane screen.
After a few, long-felt minutes, the screen dropped. “Teah, is it your wish to be litigated under a single Arbitration with Elias, known as the Wayfarer?”
Teah stood and without hesitation said, “Yes, Arbiter.”
“So be it, your cases will be litigated as one.”
A roar tore through the chamber, drowning out Cormn’s call to order. Elias hazarded a look about the chamber and saw that for once every Enkilder within sight was alive with expression; all save one—Mordum. The cloudy-eyed Speaker sat statue-still, the cold burn of his gaze resting on Elias. Elias returned his glare with eyes as hard as granite. Mordum pulled back the sleeve of his robe and fingered his wooden desmene ring. The corners of his mouth curved upward a hair. The gesture was not lost on Elias, and he realized in that moment how far Mordum would go to see that he never left Illedium.
Cormn raised a hand and shouted, “Peace!” Preternaturally loud, empowered Elias did not doubt by the arcane, the word ricocheted off the vaulted ceilings of the chamber and sent his ears to ringing. The effect was immediate, and the assembly went silent to a man. “The Arbiter have passed their will. We will recess until after the lunch hour. Barrister Malak, kindly have your revised opening remarks prepared by that time.” Without waiting for an answer, Cormn stood and exited the audience hall, the other six Arbiter close on his heels.
A quarter of an hour later, Elias found himself back in his chamber in Cormn’s townhouse, looking out the window once again. He felt slightly better about his chances, but the small victory was overshadowed by Mordum’s sinister mien, which yet haunted him. An abiding restlessness gnawed at his guts, and as much as he tried to put his feelings off to the myriad stresses of his present predicament, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his time was running out.
He cursed himself for taking the two weeks to regain his strength for the arduous journey to the Wandering Isle. If he had left directly after his audience with Leosis, he would be well on his journey by now, though in his heart he knew that alone and in a weakened state, his chances of surviving the blasted, tribal lands were middling at best.
A hurried knock came at his door, and he put his thoughts aside as Teah bustled into his room, followed by a grinning Malak. Teah rushed to Elias and embraced him tightly, in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. She pulled back and grasped him by his arms. “You, both of you,” she said casting a glance at Malak, “are brilliant. I thought it would take a miracle to get us out of this, Wayfarer, but we may just pull it off.”
“We may just,” said Malak. “Beating two of the three counts is well within our grasp, however, it will be of greater difficulty to address the more grievous charge which is laid against Elias.”
“The forbidden Arcanum tidbit,” said Elias. “Here, take a seat.”
“I’ll call for tea,” said Teah.
When Elias finished organizing the dozen books on his table to one side and they were all situated he said, “What I wonder is how the Arbiter have become so convinced that I am the perpetrator of forbidden magic. Leosis met me the very night of his Abeotium, so I can’t imagine he passed his knowledge to anyone.”
“No,” said Teah, “only myself, but as I said there are those who can read the clues left in the wake of your passage. Beyond that, I can’t imagine it a great deduction for any Enkilder to see that you’re not one of the plains tribals, or a member from any of the remaining quasi civilizations of humans scattered around Agia.”
“That obvious?” asked Elias.
“Your dress and mannerisms mark you as out of place,” said Malak, “but more than that was the tremendous flux in the ether that accompanied your entrance into our domain, and the tripping of the old wards set on the outskirts of Illedium. That kind of thing raises some eyebrows, and seeing as tribals, and no one else to speak of, ever loiter in the vicinity of the ruins, one must ask the question as to why anyone would have the need to use such a staggering amount of magic. The timing of your appearance is simply too convenient to be a mere coincidence.”
“Add to that the imbalances in our domain since your arrival and the Lichlor,” said Teah, “and it’s clear to see something is out of order. You’re the ideal scapegoat, and the disruptive Arcanum that nearly turned this continent to ash must have been the tool.”
“It’s not exactly a leap of faith,” said Malak, who averted his eyes to study the table. “Particularly because it’s true.”
“We don’t know that,” said Teah.
“No, he’s right,” said Elias. “I appreciate your kindness, but the responsibility for all this mine alone.”
Teah put her hand over Elias’s. “The culpability also lies with the dark fey who deceived you.”
“Wait,” said a bewildered Malak. “What?”
“I didn’t tell Malak that part.”
“Elias, I’m your barrister. You have to be utterly honest with me so I can best argue your case. If we can shift the blame onto our ancestral enemy, and prove that you acted without ill intent, it could give us the edge we need.”
“It’s not my way to hide behind half-truths,” Elias said, angry at himself all over again.
“I appreciate your sense of honor, believe you me,” said Malak, “but this is your life we’re talking about.”
Elias felt his fists clench seemingly of their own volition. “I fear that a great deal more than my life is hanging in the balance. I fear that the consequences of my actions may reach far beyond our present situation. As dire as it is I win free, it is equally important that I do so soon.”
“I can understand your eagerness to be done with Arbitration,” said Teah. “Yet I sense that there is more meaning to your feelings than you are sharing with us.”
Elias unclenched his hands and cracked his knuckles to release the nervous tension. “I have the strangest feeling that something terrible is about to happen. I also think that I might be able to do something to stop it.” Elias took a breath.
Teah and Malak exchanged troubled glances.
“What is it?” When his companions locked eyes again Elias said, “I know you two have something on your minds, so out with it.”
“The warping,” said Teah. “It may be an effect called the warping.”
“What in Agia is the warping?” Elias asked, more than a little alarmed by the sinister-sounding term and his companions’ grave expressions.
“It is a condition that often plagues those who practice the forbidden arts, particularly time magic,” said Teah.
Elias snorted. “A condition? I must admit, my mind had gone elsewhere.”
Wayfarer (The Empyrean Chronicle) Page 16