by Ben Hale
“You’re very well informed,” Ero said, pleased by the new information.
“It’s my job.”
“And the slave?” Ero asked, feigning curiosity.
“She was reported killed,” Ravel said, “but evidence suggests she escaped.”
Inwardly, Ero smiled. So Siena had escaped. “Sounds like a mess. I expect better from Rangers.”
“As do I.” Ravel’s features hardened, and Ero had the fleeting impression of familiarity.
“If you’d like an exclusive interview, I’d be happy to meet you for dinner,” Ero said.
“Do you invite all those investigating you to dinner?”
“Only if they are as beautiful as you.”
The woman smiled. “Let’s see if your House still exists after this tribunal. Then we’ll talk.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Ero stood and moved up three rows to the front, where a line of chairs was set facing the tribunal bench. A channel had been cut into the floor behind the chairs, allowing for dakorian guards to not block the view for those who’d come to witness. When Ero crossed the bridge over the channel and claimed a seat next to his brother, he received an irritated glare.
“Can you not talk to Ravel Aly’Ara?” Skorn hissed. “That woman is responsible for more high-profile arrests than all of the Rangers combined.”
“Now you’re censoring who I talk to?” Ero asked.
“We can’t afford another investigation,” Skorn retorted. “And right now, the mere possibility of augments has created a furor.”
“I thought you said we shouldn’t use that word,” Ero whispered.
Skorn glared at him. “Just stop talking to her, would you?”
Ero rolled his eyes and gave a noncommittal grunt. Skorn glared at him, then opened his holoview. Ero faced the front of the room, wishing he and Skorn were not at odds. They’d been conflicted in the past, but this felt different. This felt like their alliance had fractured to the core. He knew part of it was the tension about Dragorn and the trial, but it went much deeper. Perhaps it was lingering resentment over Siena, or the truth of Kelindor’s destruction, but in the deepest corner of Ero’s mind, he wondered if he was going to lose his brother.
A set of doors to the side of the chamber swung open, and Malikin entered. The Voice was dressed in the traditional red robes of his office. He sneered at Ero and Skorn, and then motioned to the Rangers walking beside Dragorn.
“Voices, witnesses, and House members, welcome to the tribunal of Dragorn Bright’Lor…”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Dragorn was guided to the raised platform and seated in a high-backed chair of black seracrete. Malikin claimed his place at the center of the tribunal, while the other Voices settled into their respective seats. Their white robes rustled as they took their solemn places.
Malikin peered down at Dragorn like a predator that had finally caught his favorite prey.
“Dragorn Bright’Lor, you stand accused of high treason against the Empire, of crimes including the destruction and death of millions on Kelindor, and the illegal creation of a weapon that continues to ravage the dark planet to this day. In this case, you are also the Head of your House, so your crimes are even more severe. If you are found guilty and executed, your House will be dissolved, and all rights, protections, and privileges inherent to your remaining members will be revoked. All children and relatives of matching eyes will be deemed Houseless, and all planets, ships, and significant assets will be claimed by the Empire and auctioned to the Houses. Do you understand the charges against you?”
“Shove it up your nose, Malikin,” Dragorn said.
Ero grinned, but Malikin glared down at Dragorn. “For one likely to be dropped into a sun, I expected more respect.”
“You wear the robes of a Voice,” Dragorn retorted. “Doesn’t mean they hide your lack of integrity.”
Malikin came to his feet. “You will address this panel with respect, Dragorn, or I will see you—”
“Dead?” Dragorn grinned. “We both know that’s what you’re trying to do, so let’s get this over with.”
Malikin was as red as a feldian apple, and although Ero had no idea what his father was planning, he could not deny the pleasure of seeing Malikin’s blood boil. The presiding Ranger that had brought Dragorn into the room approached the panel. Dressed in formal white, with blue bars down his sleeves and his rank on his chest.
“Honored Voices,” he greeted, “it is with solemnity that I present Dragorn Bright’Lor to this tribunal, and the evidence gathered against him.”
The tribunal was brought to order in traditional fashion: Long speeches. Evidence of Dragorn’s crimes. More speeches. Vids of Kelindor. More speeches. Ero struggled to stay awake as the talks droned from one hour and into two. He fell asleep. Twice. The second time Skorn nudged him awake.
“Please tell me you’re not sleeping.”
“Why?” Ero yawned. “Did I miss anything?”
“No,” Worg muttered. Skorn shot him a glare, and he shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
Skorn ground his teeth together. “Malikin just said that—”
“Stop,” Ero said in alarm. “I slept through it so I didn’t have to hear it. I don’t need a repeat.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“This is insufferable,” Ero hissed.
“I’ll drink to that,” Teridon muttered.
Ero twisted to face him. “Don’t tell me the soldiers trained to the pinnacle of perfection are losing their patience.”
“When we have to wait, we know we get to fight,” Worg said with a yawn. “At the end of this show, the best we can hope for is seeing a krey stuffed into an escape pod and dropped into a sun. Dismantling a weapon is more fun.”
Quis snorted a laugh that was so loud the Voice speaking stopped talking and swiveled to look at him. Others had taken note of their whispered conversation, and Malikin glared at Ero with a look of pure hatred.
“Is something amiss among the family of the accused?”
“Nothing,” Skorn said quickly.
“You’re boring,” Ero said with a yawn.
He had the pleasure of hearing Ravel laugh and others stifle their own amusement before Malikin came to his feet and glowered down at them. When he spoke, he enunciated each word until they simmered with suppressed rage.
“You are calling a high tribunal of crimes against your House…boring?”
“Am I wrong?” Ero said.
Worg grinned as his words were taken from him, then leaned over to Teridon. “A hundred glint that Malikin attacks Ero.”
“Two hundred if Ero kills him before the Rangers can step in,” Teridon said.
“SILENCE!” Malikin bellowed, his voice almost a shriek. “I will not have you profane this hallowed chamber with your lack of respect.”
Ero feigned puzzlement. “How would you like me to profane this hallowed hall?”
Malikin twitched like he’d just swallowed a roak. “Speak again, and I will have a Ranger drag you from the room and toss you in a cell.”
Ero shrugged and leaned back in his chair. Malikin glared at him until it was clear Ero did not intend on speaking. Then he stabbed a hand at the Voice that had been speaking, and the krey resumed his speech on the dangers of the Dark, the weapon unleashed on Kelindor. Ero resigned himself to a day so boring it would drain weeks of his mortal existence into an unfathomable abyss. Then a distant echo nudged at his consciousness.
He brushed it aside and closed his eyes, intent on getting a third nap, but the noise persisted, like a buzzing in his skull that refused to go away. He even brushed the side of his head, but the buzzing remained. Then he realized they were words, and he sat bolt upright.
Ero! The voice was so faint it was hardly a whisper, but the intensity to the voice seemed like a shout.
Siena? Ero thought.
Finally. The girl sounded relieved, and oddly stressed. I’ve been trying to get close enough to use my
augment for an hour. I need you to—
Where have you been? Ero mentally demanded. I was beginning to worry.
You were worried about me? She seemed taken aback.
Isn’t that what I should do when a friend gets arrested? Ero was mystified. He was new to the whole friend thing, but he figured that was fairly basic.
I’m just…glad you cared, she said, and then spoke in a rush. After I escaped from the Rangers, I had a lead to follow.
What sort of lead? Ero asked, grimacing at the swell of sound. And where are you?
In the ocean below the Tribunal Hall, she said. Trying not to get crushed against the rocks.
Ero caught a glimpse of her spinning in the water before she caught hold of the pyramid’s foundation and clung to the surface. A wave washed across her, drenching her anew. He was delighted by her proximity.
I can come get you, Ero said. I can request a recess, and trust me when I say, I need one before my brain leaks out my ears from—
No, Siena spoke sharply. You need to get ready.
Ero finally registered that the urgency in Siena’s voice was not due to her position in the water, but his position in the tower. What are you talking about?
Dragorn’s ally isn’t a House, Siena said, it’s the Burning Ghosts.
“The Burning Ghosts?” Ero blurted.
“Ero Bright’Lor,” Malikin snapped, “I have warned you and—”
“My apologies to the tribunal,” Ero said, “but I must request a recess.”
Malikin’s eyes narrowed sharply, and Ero managed to keep his face benign. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dragorn—who’d been sitting remarkably silent throughout the proceedings—turn and meet his gaze. His lips twitched with amusement and, if Ero wasn’t mistaken, anticipation.
“Granted,” Malkin said. “You have ten minutes.”
Skorn raised an eyebrow, but Ero ignored him as he stood and made his way to the door at the side of the room. Skorn and the others followed him into the adjacent chamber reserved for private conversations. The moment the door shut, Ero spoke.
“Kensen, scan the nearest beamcasts and look for one that matches a signal used by the Burning Ghosts.”
“Why?” Skorn asked.
“Because Siena just told me they are Dragorn’s ally,” Ero said.
“Siena?” Kensen’s eyes widened. “Where—”
“Look now. Love later.”
The boy flushed and then activated his augment. His fingers spun through the air as if he were manipulating a holo, but there was nothing there. Skorn had gained his calculating look, his eyes looking through Ero.
“You don’t believe her?” Ero asked.
Skorn shook his head. “On the contrary. I do. And this explains why we could not identify Dragorn’s ally. The Burning Ghosts are notorious for their anonymity. What concerns me is our father’s lack of fear. Everyone in that room believes he’s going to lose, and after listening to the Voices speak, I don’t think any of them have been bribed. The verdict will be execution, and he’ll be loaded into a secure transport and taken to the sun. Yet Dragorn acts like he has a way out.”
“Maybe he does,” Kensen said. “I’m tracking at least three signals that match known Ghost beamcast frequencies. They’re intermittent, but close.”
“How close?” Worg asked.
“Within a kilometer,” Kensen said.
“Whatever’s happening, it’s happening today,” Teridon said.
“Agreed,” Skorn said, looking to Kensen. “Can you disrupt their communications?”
Kensen hesitated, and then shook his head. “They’re operating a rotating frequency algorithm, so every word is on a different beamcast.”
“Where’s Siena?” Quis asked.
Ero pointed downward. “At the base of the Tribunal Hall.”
Trying not to drown, Siena said.
Anything else you know? Ero asked her.
I tracked a Ghost ship to Mylttium before I lost the trail, she said. When I realized they arrived an hour before Dragorn’s tribunal, I figured it had to be here.
Apparently not hearing the mental conversation, Skorn opened up his holo. “My guess is Dragorn has an escape plan. Probably when they’re taking him to the transport vessel. It would be easier to break him out when he’s in transit.”
“You’re wrong,” Teridon said.
“Why would you say that?” Skorn asked.
“Because they have Reklin,” Teridon said. “And if he’s being forced to work for the Ghosts, he’s not going to do the obvious.”
“Then what will he do?” Ero asked.
“I don’t know.” Worg shrugged. “But it won’t be what you expect. There’s a reason he’s a Shard captain.”
“I never thought I’d have to outthink him,” Teridon said.
There was a low tone from the door, signaling the recess was over. Skorn grimaced. “Figure something out, and Kensen, keep monitoring beamcasts. We can’t stop it if we don’t know when the escape is happening.”
“You want Dragorn to be executed?” Quis asked, his eyes wide.
Skorn’s dark gaze settled on the boy. “That’s why we’re here. The moment he’s dead, our allies give the recommendation for us to form a new House. Malikin loses his leverage and we keep our protection.”
“Not to mention we get to see Dragorn die,” Ero said. “But I’d say that’s a bonus.”
“Let’s go,” Skorn said. “And stay alert.”
Worg opened the door and they filed back into the room. Ero half-expected the room to be in chaos and Dragorn already missing, but his father remained in the chair he’d occupied since the start of the tribunal, wearing the same smug smile. Ero wondered if he knew he and Skorn wanted him dead. Probably. He’d always had an uncanny knack for recognizing threats.
“To order,” Malikin called. “I believe Voice Trell was speaking about the ramifications of Kelindor’s demise.”
“Thank you, Voice Malikin,” Trell said.
As the tribunal resumed, Ero fidgeted in his chair. He reached out to Siena, but she’d severed the mental link. She was probably trying to get to a safer position on the pyramid. Or, more likely, judging by Kensen’s face, she was talking to him instead. Or maybe that look was his normal face. How was Ero supposed to know?
The day passed into evening, and the tribunal wound to a close. Normally such a high-profile event included posturing and defense by the accused, especially when they’d failed to bribe sufficient judges for an assured acquittal. But Dragorn hardly spoke at all, and even when he was asked direct questions by the Voices, he just ignored them. As the proceedings moved towards a conclusion, Ero noticed that the air of tension had increased among the other spectators, as if everyone sensed that something was off.
Ero fidgeted in his seat while the last Voice spoke out in condemnation, glancing between Dragorn, the Voices, the Rangers, and Kensen, who kept muttering to himself but shook his head. Nothing.
“Are you done yet?” Dragorn groaned.
The Voice reddened, but Malikin raised a hand. “Are you so eager for your execution?”
“If it means I could stop listening to this drivel, I’d fly the ship myself.”
Malikin glared at Dragorn, then abruptly shrugged. “Perhaps it’s best we end this charade and call for a final vote.”
“But the accusations have not been clearly delineated,” another judge protested.
“If he doesn’t care, then why should we?” Malikin said. “Let us have the vote and be done with it.”
“But it’s against protocol,” the head Ranger said.
Malikin sneered at Dragorn. “Apparently the accused has places to be. Voice Trell? What is your vote?”
The Voice on the end of the row spoke in a solemn voice. “Guilty.”
The next nodded in agreement. “Guilty.”
The avowal was repeated down the line, with each and every judge condemning Dragorn to death. Even as the proclamations were issued, Dr
agorn’s smile remained fixed. Ero wondered what he would do if Ero walked up and broke his nose. Ero clenched and unclenched his hand, unable to shake the tension.
Malikin’s sneer widened as the last of the votes were voiced and he added his own. “I add my guilty vote to the verdict. Dragorn Bright’Lor, you have been found guilty of high treason to the Krey Empire. Your immediate execution is ordered, and your House is summarily dissolved—”
“Not yet,” Dragorn said.
The Ranger captain had taken a step towards him, but came to a stop. Malikin raised an eyebrow. “You now have something to say?”
“I just need to clarify,” Dragorn said. “A House is only dissolved when the Head is found guilty and executed.”
Malikin frowned in obvious confusion. “Why would that matter?”
Dragorn rose to his full stature, straightening into the imposing figure that had intimidated royals and devastated enemies for centuries. His blue eyes, so smug and relaxed before, now blazed with triumph.
“You should read the law, Malikin. Both guilt and death must occur before a House is dissolved, and yet if the execution is not performed within ten days, the verdict is canceled, and the accused cannot be investigated for the same crime.”
Malikin came to his feet and leaned over the table. “You have no allies. Your House has no glint. And you will be dead in an hour. Nothing you can do will stop your fate.”
Dragorn smirked. “Count the days, Malikin. When it’s over. I’m coming for you.”
“Captain?” Malikin snapped. “Remand this wretch to the execution pod.”
Kensen abruptly lurched forward. “Ero,” he hissed, “the beamcasts have solidified.”
“Where are they?” Skorn demanded.
Kensen leveled a finger to the floor beneath Dragorn’s feet. “Right below him.”
Before Ero could move, a shudder went through the floor, and a plume of dust burst from in front of Dragorn’s feet. A second followed, and a third, the tiny explosions forming an expanding ring that circled the krey. Ero raised his arm in the ensuing explosion, and then Dragorn dropped through a hole in the floor.
Chapter Thirty-Seven