Stolen Crown

by Shawn Wickersheim

The old Gyunwarian knight raised his hands toward the sky. “I confess! I killed-”

  A fist connected with the side of his jaw and he went down. The brute who threw the punch added a couple of kicks before turning back to the stage. “Carry on!” he shouted.

  Stephano Di Rygazzo stood tall and flashed a smile to the crowd. In the distance, along the south side of the square, a fight had broken out between a Gyunwarian mob and Lord Ragget’s Amalgamated Warriors. From the looks of it, the Machine he’d brought with him from Bel’yowlye had been busy.

  “Let us expose more of this traitor,” he called out.

  “You’ve said that already!” some heckler screamed. “Just get on with it!”

  Stephano Di Rygazzo grabbed Ian’s hair.

  “Wait!” Sir Lumist called out. He staggered toward the dais. “Lord Ian is innocent . . .”

  Two wardens vaulted down from the platform, grabbed the old knight and started dragging him away.

  “Hold!” a voice called down from the bell tower’s balcony.

  Stephano Di Rygazzo didn’t have to look up to know it was King Edmund.

  The fat Yordician king pointed a thick finger at the Gyunwarian knight. “You there, sir, what are you saying?”

  “Lord Ian Weatherall is innocent of high treason!” Sir Lumist Tunney called out. “I killed your father. I killed the king.”

  “This man,” King Edmund swung his finger at Ian, “has already been found guilty, sir. If you had wanted to speak for him, you should have spoken during his trial.”

  “I was confined in your dungeons and unable to do so,” Sir Lumist said.

  Stephano Di Rygazzo smiled.

  “I don’t recall issuing your release,” the king said.

  “You didn’t. I escaped.”

  A murmur of disbelief rippled through the crowd.

  “You are full of confessions today. Anything else you’d like to get off your chest before I have my executioner remove your head?”

  Sir Lumist Tunney smiled. “Only a warning to you and your loyal pet, Lord Devin Ragget. We Gyunwarians know the truth of what happened here. We will never forgive. We will never forget.”

  “Your threats bore me, sir,” the king yawned. “Executioner . . . Bring me that knight’s head.”

  Stephano Di Rygazzo nodded. He was not particularly fond of the ‘executioner’ title. Any idiot with a big enough axe or sword could be an ‘executioner’. He preferred . . .

  “What of Lord Ian?” Sir Lumist called out as he was dragged up the stairs and led over to the chopping block. “I confessed. He is innocent. You must let him go free.”

  “Must I?” the king laughed. He sank back in his chair and made a waving gesture with his hand. “You have a poor understanding of our legal system.”

  “No,” Sir Lumist muttered. “I think I understand it just fine.”

  “Executioner . . .” The king made a vague gesture with his hand. “Pray, continue!”

  Stephano Di Rygazzo patted Ian on the head and tossed his bloody knife on the table next to his open case. “I’ll be back to you in just a moment.”

  While two wardens positioned Sir Lumist over the block, Stephano Di Rygazzo borrowed a sword from a third. “Is it sharp?”

  “Of course,” the warden said. “I always keep a fine edge on my blade, sir.”

  Stephano Di Rygazzo shrugged. “What a pity. A dull blade would have prolonged his agony.” He spun the weapon around a few times, testing its weight and balance before walking over to the prostrate knight. “Any last words?”

  “Not today.”

  Stephano Di Rygazzo shook his head. He was starting to understand why Lord Ragget wanted these idiots out of his country. Not today? Did he not understand the concept of ‘last words’ or the permanency of death? He motioned for the wardens to step back. Sir Lumist Tunney stretched his neck forward and held his hands out to either side. The crowd collectively inhaled.

  He lifted the sword above his head. Sunlight danced along the blade’s length. A couple of women standing directly in front of the kneeling knight had worn white. Stephano Di Rygazzo almost chuckled. Let’s add some red to those dresses, shall we ladies?

  With a grunt, he brought the sword down.

  chapter 29

  Josephine jumped down from the coach and ran inside the house. They hadn’t been gone long, but the main room was empty. She darted into the bedroom. Theodora was sitting in a chair in the corner, with her head bowed, softly chanting something about forgiveness. Edgar was asleep on the bed.

  “Where’s Sir Lumist?”

  Theodora looked up. Her fingers were stained a foul shade of black. Her eyes were red. “Gone.”

  Josephine dashed out of the house and leapt up onto the bench next to Kylpin. “Tower Square.”

  “Wait! Where’s Lumist?”

  “My guess, he’s heading that way. Might even be there by now.”

  “Damn fool. He probably figures he can pay off his debt,” Kylpin said.

  “What debt?”

  “Ian saved his life back in Gyunwar and for years now Lumist has tried to find a way to pay him back.”

  Josephine held out her hand. “Give me the reins.”

  “What? Why? I know how to get to Tower Square.”

  “Captain, if we were on the seas, I wouldn’t question your ability to sail. I grew up in this city. There’s always more than one way to get anywhere. The safe way,” Josephine held out her hand again. “Or the quick way.”

  Kylpin gave her the reins. “Let’s make it the quick way.”

  chapter 30

  “I’m sorry, Devin,” Cecily moaned, making sure she sounded sufficiently remorseful. She had grown tired of his physical abuse and decided it was time to put an end to it.

  “Just watch!”

  She was watching, and she knew Devin was watching, but right now she needed him to focus on her words. She needed to find the right words.

  “. . . I’m so very sorry . . .”

  “. . . I shouldn’t have behaved that way with Amarias . . .”

  “. . . I was upset by our disagreement in the courthouse, but that is no excuse . . .”

  “. . . I didn’t mean to make a mess of your case during Ian’s trial . . .”

  “. . . You were right. I was wrong . . .”

  Devin’s hard thrusting slowed. He eased inside her gently.

  “. . . You’ve been right about everything all along . . .” she continued. Now that she knew what he wanted to hear she’d keep repeating it in different ways.

  Stephano Di Rygazzo slit Ian’s forehead. Devin froze. Sweat dripped from his chest and pooled on her back.

  “. . . You were right about-”

  “Shut up!” Devin snapped. He shoved her face to one side and craned forward, turning an ear to the window. “Did you hear that?”

  She hadn’t heard anything except the sound of his ragged breath and the fleshy slapping of his thighs slamming against her tender bottom.

  “Stop!” a raspy voice rose over the crowd. “This man is innocent! I killed the king!”

  “Who said that?” Devin demanded.

  Off to their left, a few yards away, a lone figure emerged from the crowd. He pushed his hood back.

  Sir Lumist Tunney.

  Devin laughed and pounded a fist against the roof of the carriage.

  The old Gyunwarian knight raised his hands toward the sky. “I confess! I killed-”

  A thuggish-looking Yordician slugged the old knight and he went down. Devin’s glee turned to rage. “NO!” he bellowed. “Amarias, go get . . . oh fuck . . . I forgot. You’re in a cage. Gylfalen! Gylfalen! Gylfalen, you miserable bastard, you’d better hear these words this time. Come to Tower Square, now! NOW!”

  Cecily held very still. Between whatever Devin was muttering about and the distraction outside their window, it was creating a favorable outcome for her. His dual erections were shrinking.

  “Dammit!” Devin grumbled. “I need someone to grab that
old knight.”

  “Let us expose more of this traitor,” Stephano Di Rygazzo announced to the crowd.

  “You’ve said that already!” Devin screamed. “Just get on with it!”

  Stephano Di Rygazzo grabbed Ian’s hair.

  “Wait!” Sir Lumist staggered toward the dais. “Lord Ian is innocent.”

  Cecily frowned. She wanted to tell the old knight to shut up. It was too late for Ian, but two of her father’s royal wardens vaulted over the side of the platform and grabbed him.

  “Yes!” Devin’s manic glee returned. What was he so excited about? Wasn’t Sir Lumist messing up his plans?

  Devin pushed aside the back curtain and peered up at the bell tower. “Come on, you fat fucking idiot, speak up. Speak up!”

  “Hold!”

  Cecily immediately recognized her father’s voice. Was he the ‘fat fucking idiot’? But, she thought Devin and her father were friends.

  “You there, sir, what are you saying?”

  “Lord Ian Weatherall is innocent of high treason! I killed your father. I killed the king.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Devin giggled. “If I’d known how easy this could be . . .”

  “This man has already been found guilty, sir. If you had wanted to speak on his behalf, you should have done so during his trial.”

  Cecily shook her head. None of this was making any sense, but no matter, while Sir Lumist and her father exchanged words, Devin’s full attention was on them. He kept mumbling something, but she really didn’t care what he was chanting. All she wanted was to grab her dress, slip free of his cocks and escape from the carriage. She inched her right hand off the windowsill and slid it over to where her ripped dress lay crumpled on the floor. She hooked the hem with her fingertips and dragged it back.

  “You are full of confessions today,” her father said. “Anything else you’d like to get off your chest before I have my executioner remove your head?”

  Sir Lumist Tunney smiled. Cecily couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the stern old knight smile. “Only a warning to you and your loyal pet, Lord Devin Ragget. We Gyunwarians know the truth of what happened here. We will never forgive. We will never forget.”

  “What could they know?” Devin scoffed.

  What indeed? Did they know what she knew? Did they know Devin had framed Ian? Did they know . . . wait! Did they know she was involved too? She hadn’t really done all that much!

  “Your threats bore me, sir. Executioner . . . Bring me that knight’s head.”

  “FINALLY!” Devin said. “Your father can be such a buffoon, Princess! I think I’m beginning to better understand your flightiness. It’s hereditary.”

  Cecily chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t dare contradict him. Not while he remained inside her. Gods above, how much longer did she have to endure this?

  “What of Lord Ian?” Sir Lumist persisted even as her father’s wardens dragged him to the block. “I confessed. He is innocent. You must let him go free.”

  “Must I? You have a poor understanding of our legal system.”

  Devin roared with laughter. A couple of his extra hands disappeared. The cock in her ass started feeling like a thumb again. Stephano Di Rygazzo stood over Sir Lumist Tunney. The old knight stretched out his arms.

  A tremor of excitement coursed through Devin’s entire body. She could feel him quivering with anticipation. If she wasn’t mistaken, it now seemed like he was more thrilled to see Sir Lumist executed than Ian. Why? What had changed? What had she missed?

  Stephano Di Rygazzo raised the sword over his head.

  “DO IT!” Devin cried.

  The thumb in her ass popped out.

  Cecily gathered her dress beneath her. The moment she was completely free, she’d throw the rag over her head and slip away if she could.

  Stephano Di Rygazzo grunted, and the sword came down.

  chapter 31

  Oliver Orrington stood beside the king as the Gyunwarian knight was led to the block. As Captain Rivers, he had been given the assignment to protect the king which was rather ironic considering Oliver had initially gone to the castle to assassinate him and take his place.

  Turns out, he just couldn’t do it.

  Nerves hadn’t gotten to him. Neither had a sudden case of morality stayed his hand.

  Vanity had.

  Even now, the thought of living as that fat, ugly old man nearly caused him to swoon. From far, far, far away, the new king might just look like a large man, but up close, where every wrinkle, and fat fold, and pimple, and mole, and bead of sweat, and hairy nostril, and . . .

  Oliver closed his eyes and wished he still had his scented handkerchief in his sleeve.

  “Your Majesty,” a grating voice called out behind them. Oliver opened his eyes and spun around. The white-haired city administrator, Sir Walter Merriday, stepped out onto the balcony and bowed. “The fighting along the southern border of the square is spreading. I think we should return you to the castle. Captain Rivers, where are the rest of your men?”

  It was a good question and Oliver assumed the real Captain Rivers would have had a good answer. He didn’t. Fortunately for him, the king spoke first.

  “Sir Merriday, I will leave when the executions are finished. I’m sure the royal wardens are doing their best, however, if you like, you may order the city patrol to assist them.”

  “But . . .”

  “That is all, Sir Merriday!”

  The white-haired man buttoned up his lips and left.

  “He does not have a pleasant speaking voice, does he?” Oliver Orrington offered.

  The king laughed. It was a harsh, brash laugh, but it sounded honest enough. “And I thought I was the only one to think so.”

  The king’s voice was not much better, but Oliver chose not to point that out. Instead he returned his attention to the platform below. When this gruesome matter was done, perhaps he’d seek out the Princess. Or Lord Ragget. Both were now in new positions of power. And both were attractive people. In a pinch, he wouldn’t mind usurping either of their identities.

  He’d just have to figure out which one he wanted to kill and which one he wanted to bed.

  The torturer raised his sword over his head. Oliver wasn’t exactly squeamish, but he had no desire to watch the old knight’s head roll.

  He turned away and found himself staring at an incoming ball of fire!

  chapter 32

  “Any last words?”

  “Not today,” Sir Lumist Tunney said, confident his plan would work.

  Behind him, not ten feet away, Ian hung from a pair of shackles. Lumist had to admit, his friend did not look good. His face was a ruined mess, bruised and battered beyond recognition. He understood now why Josephine had been mistaken. The man she had rescued had been beaten just about as badly. Stand the two of them side-by-side, and even he’d be hard pressed to tell them apart.

  The wardens holding him down moved away. Lumist’s heart raced. The time was almost upon him. The big gamble. Double or nothing. He’d seen the blood take Ian all those years ago. He’d seen what his friend was capable of when someone he cared about was threatened. Any moment, the blood would take Ian again. Any moment, he’d hear the wooden posts splinter and the cry of surprise and alarm rise on the lips of the other men on stage. They were all dead men. They just didn’t know it yet.

  He bravely stretched his neck forward and thrust his hands out to either side. His chest balanced across the top of the block. The crowd of crazed, hateful Yordicians grew quiet. Any moment now . . .

  He stared down at the platform. There was a dark knot in the wood plank directly beneath him. Good. It gave him something to focus on. He took a deep breath. The stillness of his long years settled over him. The peace of knowing what he did was right calmed and covered him. He was both relaxed and ready. Ready for when Ian attacked . . .

  Any moment now . . .

  Double or nothing. Debt paid, or debt doubly owed.

  Any mo
ment . . . He was ready . . . For anything . . .

  Beside him, he heard a grunt, a whisper of wind and a faint . . . faint thud . . .

  chapter 33

  There were plenty of things in the world Oliver Orrington detested. Unattractiveness, objectionable sounds, and appalling manners were just a few of these irritants. Beauty, harmonic tones and extreme grace, traits he sought, were the same qualities the Lady of Light radiated.

  And if not for her fiery goodness, he’d probably worship her until the ends of his days.

  But since the one thing he feared most in the world was fire and a great big ball of it was screaming across the sky toward him, he did what anyone would do when faced with the possibility of confronting the ends of his days.

  He ran.

  Past the king, past the other wardens.

  He ran for the stairs.

  Behind him, screams of warning were followed by screams of pain. He didn’t look back. There was no need. He knew what was coming for him.

  Death!

  He slammed through the exit door and leapt head-first over the railing. Racing around the spiral stairs hugging the tower’s outer walls would have taken too long. Even now as he tumbled through the air, caught in gravity’s clutches, the hungry orange flames chased after him.

  The fall seemed to last forever and yet at the same time it ended abruptly. He landed flat on his back and a tremor of pain coursed through his malleable body. Darkness flickered behind his eyes, but he did not lose consciousness. Instead, he watched in growing horror as the fire surged toward him, expanding, expanding, expanding . . .

  A tongue of flames licked the side of his face. He screamed in agony and squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see anymore.

  And yet, he did. His entire body witnessed the wave of heat pressing against him, but the eager flames came no closer. In fact, they were drawing back, retreating. They’d had a little taste, but they’d stopped short of devouring him. He breathed deeply, inhaling the smoky air, and let out a long sigh. He was still alive.