by L R Deney
As they approached the council chamber, Staci prepared herself for the kangaroo court she was about to face. The Council always hated her, considering her a problem, a headache, and a public annoyance all in one. She had a history of being a rabble rouser in Azramoas, and so her reputation constantly preceded her. Stepping into that chamber now confronted her with a lot of stern, angry faces that would have bored holes into her with their piercing stares.
“Staci Drenvauder, you are brought before us charge with the high crime of illegal use of magic,” Speaker Ravenford announced, his face coated with disgust and fury. “You’ve gone too far this time, Miss Drenvauder.”
“Spare me the scolding, John,” Staci replied in her usual defiance. “We all know that this Council has always had it out for me and has been gnashing at the bit for a chance to bend me over and fuck me. For that reason, you’re far from unbiased and ergo any court you hold will be unfair in the extreme.”
“Do you think this is a game, Miss Drenvauder?” Councilor Frandsen asked, her steely gray eyes glaring daggers at Staci.
“The amusing part is that I’m the only one present who knows it’s a game. You all take yourselves far too seriously and don’t understand the bare naked truth that surrounds you.”
“And what truth is that?”
“The Emperor has no clothes. You pretend yourselves to be more enlightened and superior than our mundane compatriots on Earth, but the reality is you’re practically identical. You’re obsessed with power, wealth, and authority, and there isn’t a single non-human among you, and I only count one person of color at that—apologies Drake—and most of you are men, which shows you share the same damn white, patriarchal structures as the civilization you split off from. You were trying to escape the Church’s government, so you became a government.
“And so little do you realize that your world is so closely intertwined with Earth’s that you often forget the number of times Azramoas has been dragged kicking and screaming into its major conflicts. Hell, even now while a dangerous, genocidal ideology reemerges in Earth’s new century, infiltrating their major governments, you too have become compromised. The motives of someone here do not match the rest of yours and it will all bite you in the ass.
“It could almost be funny if it wasn’t so sa—”
“That’s quite enough, Miss Drenvauder,” Speaker Ravenford interrupted, his voice a bit louder than usual. “We didn’t bring you here to make complaints about how the Council of Magic is governed, regardless of how many conspiracy theories you cook up about it. We brought you here because you face a grave charge.
“Illegal use of magic is no laughing matter. Attacking and interfering with mundane law enforcement like you have done is not only disturbing their peace, but also risking our world to exposure. Should the Church find out we still exist, it will seek to hunt us down. It has happened before and it can happen again.
“We cannot risk you continuing this personal crusade of yours against the gods know whatever it is that you think you’re fighting. You are a public menace and you must be contained indefinitely for Azramoas’ own good. Our survival as a people, as a culture, and our highest Art, must never be threatened again!”
Staci huffed. “It sounds like you’ve already decided I’m guilty.”
“You are guilty!” Councilor Vasiliev interjected from the right-side edge of the Council. She was seated next to Fromm. “We have a witness to what you did.”
“So much for a fair trial. What even happened to my rights? Don’t I even get a lawyer?”
Johnathan Ravenford caught her gaze. “It’s not a fair trial, you have no rights, and you don’t get a lawyer. This matter is our highest crime, and breaking it cedes your status as a citizen.”
“Oh that’s right; I sometimes forget how archaic and backward your ‘justice’ system can be.”
“It has served us for hundreds of years!” Councilor Vasiliev interjected again with a raised voice. Fromm rested a hand on her shoulder in a calming gesture while he whispered to Councilor Andersson on his right.
Ravenford slammed his gavel. “Order! I will have order at this Council.”
Silence ruled for a moment while Staci stared briefly at Councilor Vasiliev and the two other councilors seated near her. There was something going on there, but what it was exactly she couldn’t quite figure out. Vasiliev seemed to want her blood, while Fromm was up to something; he was there at her art gallery, after all. Andersson just seemed bored by his surroundings and the proceedings. Her eyes wandered back to Ravenford.
Was it Friedrich Fromm all along? she wondered.
“I should spare us the trouble and commence with sentencing right away,” Speaker Ravenford said to her with his cold eyes. If looks could murder, that certainly would be one.
“You’re right, it’s not a fair trial,” Staci shot back. “Usually some kind of evidence is trotted out at the very least. You can’t even prove what you’re accusing me of; you don’t even know what happened. Sentencing without actual facts is just ludicrous and makes it clear you’re just operating on a personal agenda against me.”
“But we do have evidence. Send in the witness and let’s get this debacle over with.”
“So much for this being an ‘arraignment.’ ”
As for the witness, the moment he walked in wearing a black tweed suit and sporting a very familiar close-shaved head, Staci recognized him immediately. It was the Nazi that escaped from the attempted kidnapping she thwarted several days earlier. He simply smiled at her while maintaining a distance as he stepped before the Council.
“Miles Johnson, please tell the assembled Council what you saw,” Speaker Ravenford asked.
“What he saw?” Staci shouted incredulously. “He was an active participant in an active kid—”
“Would someone please make sure the charged stops interrupting?”
One of the watchmen who escorted her in brought his staff to Staci’s back and sent a powerful electric shock into her back, causing her to collapse to her knees in pain. Her only thoughts were of how absolutely ridiculous this entire thing was getting. The Council had completely gone off the deep end. What was even going on here? None of this fit procedure at all.
Ravenford smiled with some satisfaction. “Please go ahead, Mr. Johnson.”
“Ah yes, so I was passing through the mundane city they call Seattle,” Miles began, adjusting his tie, “when I heard a siren. I turned to see a police car hurry by and pull up in front of a few women who were running, clearly trying to get away from something. That’s when this woman here, in the black,”—he pointed at Staci—“suddenly utilized a spell to knock the car over, killing the two officers inside. Then, with her friends, she fled the scene.”
“So she killed them as well? That’s grave, very grave.”
“Yeah, tell me about it, I was in complete and utter shock.”
“That’s utter hogwash!” Staci protested. This prompted another shock from the watchman’s staff. “Nnnghhh… No. He was one of the Nazis—AGGHHHH!” Another, longer shock to the back. “The cops were Black Sun. Magic users. Not—AAAAAAHHHHH!!” She nearly passed out from the third electric burst.
“That will be enough outbursts coming from you,” Ravenford scolded before turning his attention to Miles. “Anything else stand out to you? Her accomplices?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it, one of her friends had ridiculous butterfly wings,” the so-called witness recalled.
“Of course that one had to be involved. The Council will take note of this detail. Anything else?”
“The others didn’t really stand out all that much. Rather nondescript.”
“Very well, I think we have enough. You’re dismissed, Mr. Johnson. Now that we have revealed the eyewitness testimony and uncovered a previously unknown detail, namely the murder of the law officers, we can go ahead with sentencing. I’d say life imprisonment is reasonable for crimes this severe.”
“That’s… huh… ridicul
ous,” Staci groaned, her entire body feeling like it was on fire. “You’re… not even voting… guilt.”
“Oh for the gods’ sake, take her back to her cell. She has the rest of her days to contemplate the phrase ‘silence is golden.’ ”
The watchmen that brought her in stepped to her sides and lifted her back to her feet and turned her back around toward the door. She briefly caught sight of Miles who apparently decided not to leave the chamber, but lurk in a corner while smiling at the injustice he helped push along. Her eyes glared hard at him and he only smiled wider.
It was a fiasco. She knew the Council was corrupt, but she never considered that it was this bad. Ravenford didn’t even try to stick to procedure. The entire charade was a mockery of how these legal proceedings were supposed to be carried out. While the system was still based on the archaic form of guilty until proven innocent that dominated Medieval courts, there were rules that still had to be followed and barely any of them had been acknowledged.
As they began to walk her out of the council chamber, she began to strain against the men holding her. Their grips firmed on her arms and they pushed her along a little harder. She had to get out of this situation. Innocent lives needed help; the Order of the Black Sun had to be stopped. But then the echoing claps started and everyone went still.
“Bravo, braaavooo!” a voice declared from outside the chamber entrance. “A superb display of blatant corruption and bias. It was absolutely perfect, right down to the torture. My master would have been proud.”
“Who’s there?” Speaker Ravenford demanded. “Show yourself to the Council.”
“Of course, where are my manners?” A figure stepped forward from the darkness of the hallway and revealed a humanoid creature, red in skin, in possession of large, bat-like wings, clawed hands and feet, and a pair of horns crowning its head. The demon smiled wide. “I represent a party that has laid claim to your current prisoner.”
Gasps filled the chamber and a gavel was slammed down several times. “Order! Order! You dare come here and make demands of us, demon? Begone to whence you came.”
“How did it even get in here?” asked another councilor. “This place is fortified with wards.”
“Wards you say?” the demon asked, passing close to a wall and with a single claw and scratched a deep line through one of the runes. “Is that what these are? It’s been a while since you people have dealt in the diabolic hasn’t it? Progress to break such feeble charms has been made quite some time ago. Now are you going to comply with my request for your prisoner?”
“No demon has dared enter here for over a hundred years!” shouted Ravenford, summoning up a large ball of blue flame in one of his hands. “Staci Drenvauder is ours; she will remain in our possession.”
The demon eyed the spell, looking not in the least bit intimidated. “Ahh, but do you not pretend to be a culture of laws? Staci Drenvauder still has obligations to my master, contracted, legal obligations. You cannot incarcerate her because she is not yours to keep; she belongs to my master, the Dark Bitch, the Devil… Kadmon!”
“Oh crap,” Staci muttered. Kadmon was the last name she wanted to ever hear again. This wasn’t good.
“I don’t care who your master is,” Ravenford retorted, the ball of energy beginning to spin. “He has—”
“She.”
“Fine. She has no legal jurisdiction here. The Council does not recognize her claim to Miss Drenvauder. She broke our laws ergo we have every right to imprison her. Leave this place and tell your ‘master’ that the Council will not bear interference in internal affairs.”
The demon looked from one end of the Council to the other, a twisted smile revealing his sharp teeth. “Does he speak for all of you? Kadmon is willing to be merciful to those who cooperate with her.”
“We will not be intimidated by threats!” Councilor Vasiliev shouted from her end.
Wrong answer, thought Staci, a deep pit opening up in her stomach over what she knew would come next.
“Very well then, just wanted to be sure!” the demon announced with a throaty laugh. “Brothers! Sisters! All in between! Prepare to feast, my siblings, and make these arrogant mortals pay for their insolence!”
In response, Speaker Ravenford threw his ball of arcane energy toward the demon, only for it to be stopped several inches from the demon’s open palm. It was then that all of Hell broke loose, quite literally. Scores of demons crawled into the council chamber through every available entrance, howling, snarling, giggling and cackling. The Council, in defense, began casting destructive spells toward the oncoming diabolical horde. The Azramoas watchmen left Staci’s side to aid the Council against the assault, while Miles Johnson, the Nazi, summoned up a blade of obsidian energy and cut himself a path out of the chamber, fleeing.
The chamber rocked with battle and the demon who spoke for Kadmon approached Staci. “You owe another debt to my master for this day. Go forth, seek out the power she’s commanded you to find, you know how impatient she can be. And remember the gifts she has given you.”
He reached over and poked her in the forehead. Immediately the collar and cuffs fell away and a surge of power enveloped her body. She looked back at the demon with a bland expression, all of her dread only visible through her eyes. The demon simply grinned back at her before rushing past to join the fray.
Without wasting any further time, Staci ran out of the chamber, the demonic horde conspicuously allowing her to pass via a wide open path. The entire capitol was crawling with demons and none of them paid her any mind. In some respects she considered it a blessing, but the knowledge that Kadmon was behind her rescue made her feel ill.
As she ran out of the capitol building, hurrying down the steps, officers from the Azramoas City Watch began to arrive. Men and women dressed in the robes and armor lined the street, rushing toward the campus grounds. The first few to arrive stopped before her.
“Cavorting with demons?” an astounded officer of the watch asked before raising his staff. “Is there no crime you’re not willing to commit?”
“Y’know, honestly, at this point I just don’t give a shit anymore,” Staci retorted. Then, by instinct, she began calling forth one of those “gifts” Kadmon had given her. A whip sparked to life from her hand, composed of pure Hellfire. She swung the eerie green weapon at the watchmen seeking to prevent her escape, the flame quickly lighting their bodies ablaze.
Without giving further thought to her actions, ignoring the screams, she cast a quick travel spell and emerged several blocks distant from the capitol. She looked around, finding herself in an alley, the sounds of battle far away. She didn’t know what would happen to Azramoas at this point and she frankly didn’t care. All she knew was she had to get out
◆◆◆
An hour later, the fighting in the capitol building had finally ceased. The demons were pushed back and the walls were scarred by arcane firefights. Bodies littered the hallways and the Council chamber was a complete bloodbath. Gore dripped from the walls and the ceiling, pools of blood and organs creating a hellish sort of soup across the floor. It would take days to clean it all up, even with magic.
Outside, the city was in a panic. Martial law had been declared to keep the peace. No one alive had ever seen such an assault against Azramoas before. The name of Staci Drenvauder had instantly become the most hated in living memory. She had officially become public enemy number one.
Speaker Ravenford nursed his injured arm in his office as he listened to the reports. “I want an immediate manhunt for Drenvauder. Every single resource we have, no stone unturned. I want that menace found and destroyed. Thus, use of lethal force is encouraged!”
“And what will we do about this Kadmon threat?” Councilor Drake Okar asked, holding a rag to his eye. “Surely this counts as a declaration of war.”
“Do we even know anything about this so-called ‘Devil?’ What region of Hell she rules?”
“I suppose we could have our librarians look her up, but
I still believe regardless of what we find, this attack deserves a response. Many of the other surviving councilors agree with me.”
Ravenford grimaced at the word “surviving.”
“Five dead, Drake. Five. I think I will agree with you. We cannot let this pass.” Ravenford looked to his transcriber. “Brand Staci Drenvauder a traitor. She is officially to be considered an enemy combatant in service to whoever this Kadmon is.”
The transcriber nodded and scribbled those details onto the notepad she held.
“Since we have lost members of the Council, should we hold emergency elections?” Drake pressed.
“No.”
“No?”
“We declared martial law, Drake. There are no elections during martial law, emergency or otherwise. Order needs to be restored, our enemies found and destroyed. And we’re about to go to war.”
“Very well, I’ll inform the rest of the Council.”
Drake stood up and looked briefly outside the window behind Johnathan. Somewhere, out there was Staci Drenvauder, on the run. Whether she would run back to the safety of this Kadmon or not remained to be seen. Either way, the woman remained dangerous and had already caused plenty of damage today. Johnathan Ravenford was correct to call for her death.
◆◆◆
“Demons?”
“Yes, Jack, demons,” Miles said, staring at the beer in front of him. Both men were sharing a booth in one of Seattle’s many bars. “Barely escaped with my fucking life!”
“Is our asset on the Council still alive? The Fuehrer will want to know.”
“I have no idea. I hightailed it out of there as fast as I could. There had to be hundreds of the fuckers. If he’s still alive, I’ll be fucking impressed.”
“Nevertheless, we’ll have to move ahead with our plans and strengthen our wards. If the degenerate is working with demons, then we cannot act carelessly.”