CHAPTER
29
DURST STARTED
LAUGHING BEHIND THEM, HIS weird cackling echoing off the walls. One
of the guards forced some cloth into Durst’s mouth, cutting off the
noise.
Heath reached out for
his mother, putting his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her
head against him, silently weeping.
Lara was in Keir’s
arms, her head on his chest, crying bitterly. For a long moment,
they sat there stunned until Keir spoke. “Death of
earth.”
Lara lifted her head
and spoke through her tears. “Birth of water.”
“Death of water.”
Marcus spoke from the depths of his cloak.
Amyu stood at his
side. “Birth of air.”
Yveni took up the
chant. “Death of air.”
Rafe spoke next.
“Birth of fire.”
Prest’s voice was a
rumble. “Death of fire.”
“Birth of earth.”
Keir completed the circle. “The elements have sustained
you.”
“We thank the
elements.” The others spoke together, and Heath forced the words
past his lips.
“Go now, warrior,”
Keir said. “Beyond the snows and to the stars.”
Lara leaned over and
took Anna’s hand. “Anna,” she said.
Anna looked at her,
dazed and teary.
“Gracious Goddess,
Lady of the Moon and Stars, now is the hour of his death,” Lara
chanted softly.
Anna swallowed hard.
“Gracious One, full of forgiveness, forget his offenses and
sins.”
Heath cleared his
throat and recited with them. “Gracious One, full of mercy, see his
true repentance. Gracious One, full of grace, honor his true
efforts. Gracious One, full of kindness, incline your ear to our
plea. Gracious One, full of glory, embrace his soul.”
Anna lowered Othur’s
hand, reached out, and closed his eyes.
“Heath,” Detros said
from behind him. “Heath, lad, I need ya. The Archbishop is
dying.”
“What?” Heath felt
numb and cold. His father was dead. What did the Archbishop’s death
matter?
But it did matter,
even in the face of his grief. He forced himself to think, and
looked over to see the man sprawled on the floor, his
white-and-gold robes covered in blood. “How did that
happen?”
Eln shook his head.
“He’s trying to speak, but I am not sure what he is
saying.”
Keir was lowering
Othur’s body to the floor. The others were covering him with the
ceremonial mantle. Marcus had appeared as if from nowhere, hooded
and cloaked. He bent over Lara now, aiding her to stand. Amyu and
Yveni were seeing to Heath’s mother.
Heath went with Eln
to where the Archbishop lay. The man was pale, gasping for air. The
two acolytes shook with fear, but they knelt at his side. The
Archbishop’s robes were pierced with multiple blows, and they were
covered with blood.
“At least one is to
the stomach,” Eln said softly. “Another cut went into the throat.
There’s nothing I can do.”
There was a noise at
the main doors that had everyone reaching for weapons. Detros
entered, with two guards and Iain, the chapel cleric safe between
them.
Iain cried out at the
sight, and ran forward. “Devoted One.” Iain threw himself down by
the Archbishop. “What has happened?”
“There was a fight,”
Heath said shortly. “I’m not sure who—”
“I did not see.”
Browdus was behind them, against the wall. “But it must have been
the Warlord.”
“Not I,” Keir said
from behind Heath. He stood over the Archbishop and studied the
wounds. “I did not see his attacker. There was only one rush at us,
but they did not pass our line. Nor did they live.”
“And,” Eln said
pointedly, “those are dagger wounds, not sword
wounds.”
“My dagger is here,
and unblooded,” Keir said.
There was a bloody
dagger in the far corner. Heath could see it from where he stood.
Plain, with a wire-wrapped hilt.
Browdus just stood by
the wall, looking at them mildly.
“There is nothing you
can do?” Iain had the man’s hand, and was appealing to
Eln.
The Archbishop
stirred, opening his eyes.
Iain leaned closer.
“Devoted One, who did this?”
The man blinked up at
him, then struggled to sit up. The acolytes tried to raise him
higher. Drizin drew a breath as blood frothed around his mouth.
“Witness . . .”
“What?” Iain
asked.
The Archbishop
pressed his bloody hand to Iain’s chest. “Need. Wit—”
Browdus stepped
forward. “He must name a successor. I am here, Devoted
One.”
The Archbishop shook
his head, fighting to speak.
“Witness,” Iain said.
“The succession must be witnessed. We need—” He went to stand, but
the Archbishop had a tight grip on his arm. Iain looked around.
“The acolytes for the church, two guardsmen for the common man.” He
looked at the guards that had brought him. “Lord Heath, Lord Keir,
please stand back.” Iain twisted around. “One of the
lords—”
Heath scanned the
room. Lord Sarrensan was helping his weeping wife to stand. “Lord
Sarrensan, the Archbishop needs you.”
Sarrensan approached,
his arm around his lady. His eyes widened as he took in the sight
of the Archbishop. Iain explained quickly.
Heath took a step
back, making room. Keir had already returned to Lara.
“Devoted One.”
Browdus stood at the Archbishop’s feet. “The witnesses are here.”
Browdus knelt. “I am here, and ready to take on this
task.”
The Archbishop’s eyes
fluttered, and Heath could have sworn he was scowling at Browdus.
The man tightened his grip on Iain’s arm. “You. I name you.” The
words were emphatic and clear.
“What?” Iain
squeaked. He reared back, but the man’s fingers were dug into the
flesh of his arm. “Devoted One, I am not—”
“Drizin,” Browdus
objected hurriedly. “He is confused,” he assured the
others.
“No.” The Archbishop’s body shook as he pointed at
Browdus. The arm then moved to point at Iain. “Him. Him. Successor.”
“No,” Browdus said.
“That can’t—”
“So witnessed,” Lord
Sarrensan said, looking at Browdus with distaste.
“So witnessed,”
echoed his lady and the others.
The Archbishop
convulsed, sagging as his body shook.
“Not long,” murmured
Eln.
Iain nodded and
started the litany. “Gracious SunGod, lord of the sun, now is the
hour of his death.”
The others bowed
their heads and recited with the young priest as the Achbishop
breathed his last breath.
Heath didn’t join
them. He watched Browdus, watched the red crawl up his neck, and
saw the man’s eyes flicker to the dagger in the
corner.
Detros was standing
back, half an eye on the room, the other half on Heath. Heath
caught his attention and lifted his chin toward Iain.
Detros
nodded.
Heath relaxed
slightly. Iain would be in good hands. He looked about, wondering
where Atira was.
Iain completed the
litany and stood, his hands folded into his sleeves. He was
trembling, but he at least appeared composed. “Your Majesty.” He
nodded to Lara. “The Archbishop is dead.”
“Devoted One,” Lara
said.
Iain winced slightly
before he cast a glance at the room. “Was the marriage ceremony
completed?”
“No.” Lara’s voice
was cold as steel. “We have much to do. But we will do it in the
open air, under the stars.” She gathered up the hem of her
blood-splattered dress. “Heath. Have the prisoners brought to the
courtyard. Amyu, pick up that hilt for me. Anna, please . . . I
need you.”
Anna stood. “Aye.
I’ll come and see this done.”
Lara nodded grimly.
“If you will come with us, Devoted One.”
“Your Majesty.” Iain
bowed his head.
Lara reached out for
Keir’s arm, and they strode across the floor to the door. Their
guards scrambled to keep up. Iain followed after, with Detros right
behind him. Browdus followed along. Everyone else in the room
streamed after them, leaving a few guards behind as well as the
corpses strewn around the room.
The boom of the
Herald’s staff rang out, and Heath smiled to think that the old man
had survived. He could barely hear the words, but he knew that Lara
was summoning all within the walls as witnesses. Everyone had left
the throne room; Atira must have gone with them.
The acolytes scrubbed
at their tears as they knelt by the Archbishop’s body, keeping
watch. Heath turned, but Marcus was there. “Go, lad. I’ll keep
watch for you.”
“Thank you, Marcus.”
Heath trotted out, scanning the hall as he went. The guards were
still on duty, and working on clearing the area. Some had bruises
and cuts, but no really serious wounds. A few Plains warriors were
there, as well, with no worse injuries than those of his
men.
The main doors were
open, and Lara stood at the head of the stairs with Keir, facing a
courtyard full of people, Xyian and Plains. Her voice echoed off
the stone walls.
“ . . . attacked
during the ceremony. My Seneschal and Warden, Lord Othur, is dead,
as is Archbishop Drizin.”
The crowd buzzed, but
Lara held up her hand. “Drizin named his successor, and the new
Archbishop Iain stands here to complete the ceremony.”
“The consents of
Xylara and Keir have been witnessed. Lady Anna, do you consent on
behalf of the House of Xy?”
His mother’s voice
rang out, loud and clear. “I do, by my own free will and hand. As
did my lord husband before his death.”
“So it has been said
and declared.” Iain’s voice shook slightly as he addressed the
crowd. “Are the witnesses satisfied?”
“Aye,” rang out from
the assembly.
“Xylara, do you take
Keir of the Cat as your husband under the laws of Xy?”
“I do,” Lara said.
“And as proof of my vow, I offer this ring to bind thee to
me.”
Heath started,
clapping his hand to his belt. The rings were still there. He
pushed his way through to Lara and handed her the
rings.
She smiled at him,
then faced Keir and placed the ring upon his hand.
“And do you, Keir of
the Cat, take Xylara as your wife under the laws of
Xy?”
“I do,” Keir said.
“And as proof of my vow, I offer this ring, to bind thee to
me.”
Lara started to weep
as Keir placed her ring on her finger.
“Then by the Grace of
the Sun God, I pronounce thee husband and wife, and direct thee to
seal thy marriage with a kiss,” Iain said.
Keir leaned in and
gently kissed Lara’s eyes and lips.
The cheer startled
them all as the courtyard exploded with joy and
well-wishes.
Lara held Keir’s hand
and let the cheering go on for a moment. But then she looked over
at the Herald, and he pounded for silence.
“My thanks, my
people,” Lara said. “The ceremony is complete, the future of our
throne is assured.” She paused. “Now we must mourn those taken from
us too soon. But before all that, there is something more that
needs to be done this night. Lord Durst, come forth and submit
thyself to our justice.”
The guards dragged
the man out the doors and into the center of the courtyard. Heath
started down the steps as they forced Durst to his knees before the
Queen. Heath looked over, and at Lara’s nod, ripped the cloth from
Durst’s mouth.
Lara took the hilt of
the shattered Sword of Xy from Amyu, holding it so that the royal
seal faced Durst.
Durst spit and
coughed. “See?” he bellowed. “See? The Firelander will destroy Xy
as he has shattered that blade.”
“Your treachery
shattered it. Keir and I will forge it anew.” Lara lifted her chin.
“I might have chosen mercy, Durst, for your state of mind. But in
addition to killing Lord Othur, who offered you peace, you
threatened the life of this babe, who will be heir to the throne of
Xy.”
Lara held up the
hilt, and the broken shard of crystal that remained glittered in
the sunlight.
“Now I, Xylara,
Daughter of Xy, by the grace of the Sun God, sworn and consecrated
Queen, do hereby declare you, Lord Durst, traitor to your Queen, to
Xy, and to the Xyian people. By my will and by my command, I hereby
strip you of your lands, your titles, and your life.” Lara didn’t
pause, she just squared her shoulders. “Heath, son of Othur,” she
continued.
Heath knelt at Lara’s
feet. “My Queen.”
“I hereby condemn
Durst to death. Execute him.” Lara’s hand trembled as she lowered
the hilt.
“Now?” Iain spoke up,
pushing forward. “Your Majesty? Without prayers? Without a final
shriving of his sins?”
“I grant him the same
consideration he offered my child and Lord Othur,” Lara replied.
“You may counsel him for a moment, Devoted One, but he dies this
night, before these witnesses.”
Iain bowed, and went
down the steps with Detros right behind him. Heath swallowed hard
as he stood, suddenly aware of the task before him.
Detros sidled over.
“Shall I call for a block and an axe? They’re stored in the Guard’s
barrack. The axe is kept sharp.” Detros gave him a sharp glance.
“This is not an easy thing to do. Strike hard, for the center of
the neck.”
“Aye,” Heath said,
looking over the crowd. Detros lifted his hand, but Heath caught
it. “Hold a bit,” he whispered.
Lara hadn’t moved,
but Keir was slightly behind her now, offering support. Anna stood
tall as well, her red-rimmed eyes focused on Durst.
“Your Majesty.” Heath
went to his knee again. “Send for your executioners. This should be
done by one of skill. A clean, quick death.”
“After what he’s
done?” Lara spat.
“Even so,” Heath
said. “Let the Queen’s Justice be tempered with
mercy.”
Lara trembled for a
moment, and Heath feared that her rage was too great.
“Othur would have had
it so,” Lara finally said. “Call for the
executioners.”
Heath stood as Detros
signaled the guards. The block was brought, and with it two burly
men in masks with a sharpened axe and black cloths.
Keir drew Lara back
as it was set on the top step for all to see. Heath drew his mother
close, expecting her to hide her eyes. But Anna stood tall and
straight, regarding Durst with loathing.
Durst was wrestled
up, but he shrugged off his captors and ascended the steps himself.
At the top, he glared at Browdus, standing in the back. “At least
my plans didn’t cost an entire village their lives,” Durst
spat.
Lara went white at
his words and then stared at Browdus as if she had never seen him
before. She opened her mouth but then closed it, her lips pressed
tight.
Durst knelt before
the block. “My life for Xy,” was all he said, then he placed his
neck on the block, stretching it out as far as he
could.
The executioner never
paused. He swung the blade up and brought it down
true.
Durst’s head
dropped—a quick, clean cut. The second executioner threw the black
cloth over the body and head.
“Go forth, my
people,” Lara’s voice rang out, steady but not nearly as strong.
“We will not celebrate this night. But tell the tale to all, that
the traitors are dead, and the Queen and Overlord married.” She put
her hands on her belly. “We’ll celebrate our heir upon its birth.
But not on this night of treachery and death.”
“Open the gates,”
Heath bellowed.
The chains rattled as
the guards swung the wooden doors wide.
“Devoted One,” Lara
said, her voice cracking. “Do not leave. Please stay within the
castle until we can arrange for your safety.”
“Thank you, Your
Majesty,” Iain said with obvious relief. “Deacon Browdus can bear
word to the church. We must—” Iain frowned. “Where is
Browdus?”
Heath cursed. The man
was gone, and there was no telling where he’d slipped off
to.
Iain started again.
“We must honor Drizin and arrange for his internment. I would also
offer to conduct the rites for Lord Othur. In addition, tradition
requires that I witness the birth of your child.”
“Walk with me,
Devoted One,” Anna said. “I’d talk with you.”
“Gladly, dear lady.”
Iain offered his slight arm, and Anna took it
gracefully.
“Mother, I will come
to you,” Heath said.
“When your duty is
done, son,” Anna said firmly. “He would want it so.”
“I, too, would go,”
Lara said with a sigh.
Keir swept her up
into his arms. “Then we shall go, my wife.” Without another word,
he headed into the castle with Rafe, Prest, and Yveni right behind
him.
Heath looked at the
emptying courtyard and at Durst’s body. “You’ll see to this?” he
asked Detros.
“Aye,” Detros said.
“Been some time since we’ve had a traitor executed. You did the
right thing, Heath.”
Heath felt suddenly
sickened by it all. Durst’s death would not bring his father
back.
“Time was, we’d put
the head on a pike and hang the body in a cage below it,” Detros
continued. “But the Queen’s a gentle lady and she might
not—”
“No.” Heath ran his
fingers through his hair. “Put it in the stable and cover it. We’ll
decide in the morning.”
“What should I do
with this?” Amyu asked, holding up the hilt of the Sword of
Xy.
Heath opened his
mouth and then stopped dead, looking around with a
frown.
“Where is
Atira?”