The Restorer's Son, page 19
part #2 of The Sword of Lyric Series
“I claim the right of substitution,” Shayla said. “Take me in his place.”
“No!” It was the first word Nolan had spoken. The room burst into a collision of voices. Shayla turned to Nolan and whispered something, part of which I was able to catch by stretching my hearing.
“My time is short anyway. Let me do this.” She gave Nolan a gentle smile . . . a smile I remembered from my youth. Nolan shook his head.
Zarek ignored the chaos and waited for the noise to die away. When all eyes turned to him again, he still waited. “No one would deny that I have shown mercy when it was deserved,” he said at last. “It is because of my compassion for those who were lost in battle, and for their families, that I am not content with a mere sentence of death.” His eyes speared Shayla before she could interrupt.
“I deny your request for substitution. However, you will die along with him. Your execution will be swift, but Nolan will be offered to the hill-gods and kept alive as long as possible.” The room had grown deathly quiet. A tremor of rage bent Zarek’s voice as he continued. “And still it is not enough to pay for his crime.”
Shayla’s head dropped forward, every ounce of determined hope crushed from her body.
“Wait. Let me speak,” I shouted, wishing I could grab the bars in front of me. Zarek’s furious eyes found me. A guard pushed his way through the other prisoners and drove his fist into my stomach. I doubled over, gasping, and lifted my shackled hands to try to block his next blow.
I caught a glimpse of the herald whispering something to the king before an uppercut slammed into my jaw and knocked me back.
“Bring him,” the herald said. The guard paused with his arm raised for another punch and turned incredulous eyes toward the throne. Zarek nodded. One of the soldiers opened the cell, and suddenly two guards hauled me out and toward the king, my chains scraping heavily along the polished floor.
Maybe they’ll leave gouges. At least I’ll leave some mark.
“Speak.” Zarek leaned back and crossed his arms. He was curious enough to allow me a few words. If I didn’t choose them carefully, I’d be the next one offered to the hill-gods.
“I’m Kieran, and I come from Braide Wood.” I couldn’t claim clan status anymore, but Braide Wood was where I had come from geographically.
Shayla gasped my name, and I was glad she remembered me.
Whispers raced around the room, but I focused on Zarek’s raised eyebrows. “Nolan committed no treason. I was the one who tortured him, and he never betrayed Hazor. I was the one who gave him false information and allowed him to escape, knowing it would give us time to gather our clans.” I watched Zarek’s face carefully but couldn’t read him.
I cleared my throat and projected to the observers. “Nolan was brave, and such a loyal servant of Hazor that all of Braide Wood was impressed by the character of your people.” All right, that was an exaggeration. But Susan and Kendra were sure taken with the boy.
Zarek studied me. “Why would you speak for him? What is he to you?”
“A regret.” I met the king’s eyes. “One of many things I’ve had to do to protect my people. He doesn’t deserve death.”
Zarek stood up and stalked over to Nolan. “Is what he said true?” Nolan stared hard at his feet and nodded. “Look at me.” The king’s voice was harsh but without the blazing fury he had vented earlier.
Nolan’s head stayed down, but he looked up through his dark bangs. “I was ready to give my life to serve Hazor.” The boy’s voice shook, but it grew in strength as he glared in my direction. “They tricked me.” His chin lifted an inch, and now he faced Zarek with calm resignation. “But I brought back their lies. I deserve to die.”
Zarek paced across the floor in front of us several times, watching our faces. Then he sank back into his throne and waved one hand in the general direction of the warden. “Release the boy to his mother. They are free to go.”
I turned to look at Shayla. Tears ran down her face. She mouthed the words “thank you” before turning to hug Nolan. He only gave me a sullen glower of distrust, but I grinned anyway. A guard escorted them from the room, and I turned back to the king. My grin faded. Zarek leaned forward on this throne, showing his teeth. I realized why he had been so easy to convince. He didn’t much care about Nolan and Shayla. He had bigger rizzids to skewer.
Chapter
20
Kieran
“You’ll be executed shortly,” Zarek said. “But since I did you a favor, satisfy my curiosity.” His intense gaze created a space around us, as if we were the only two in the room. The soldiers, prisoners, petitioners, and attendants seemed to disappear under his ability to ignore them.
I shifted my weight, and the annoying chains rattled. “You want information on Braide Wood?” I started sorting through plausible lies.
He snorted. “I have better sources for information on your pathetic clans.” He brought one fist toward his chin and tapped it thoughtfully. “Why did you stop the temple ceremony? And why did you attack the shrine?”
I glanced around the room. Shackled. Unarmed. Outnumbered. I wasn’t getting out of here alive. No reason to keep it from him at this point. “I serve the One.” A throb of something sharp and bright pulsed through me with those words. My service to Him wouldn’t be long, but what did that matter? I’d known Him. He’d allowed me to glimpse others through His eyes. To speak a few words of truth. To heal a few wounds. Ignoring the menacing inlay pattern surrounding me on the floor, I stood tall, barely feeling the weight of the chains.
Zarek narrowed his eyes and waited.
I took a deep breath. “He told me to stop the murder.”
“Because he’s afraid of the power of the hill-gods and wants them deprived of strength?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
Zarek didn’t react. He just watched me.
“No.” I caught my breath and sobered. “Because every life is valuable to Him. Is she alive? The girl they were trying to murder?”
Zarek ignored my question. His broad forehead wrinkled; he was probably pondering creative ways to kill me. “I’m told you worked magic to reverse the girl’s wound.”
“No. The One healed her.” The murmurs in the room reminded me of droning insects far in the distance.
After a long silence he asked, “Do you know much about the One?” The black wall loomed behind him. Guards whose faces had been etched with cruel sneers leaned forward, along with Sidian’s citizens whose expressions had been carved in lines of despair.
“Enough to know a thousand hill-gods could never stand against Him.” I’d broken a dozen laws, killed several soldiers, and now I was insulting their gods right to the king’s face. Kendra was probably right when she accused me of being reckless.
Tension built in the room as the audience held its collective breath.
Zarek turned his head away from me. He beckoned to the herald. “Bring him to me after today’s court is finished. And have him cleaned up first.”
The herald’s mouth puckered as if he’d bitten an unripe mesana vine—the first visible movement on his impassive face. The guards hesitated, then pulled me away as another prisoner was dragged forward.
I twisted to look back at Zarek. His interest was already completely focused on the next case.
The use of a washroom with running water revived my energy. So did clean clothes. It was amazing how much my spirits lifted without chains weighting me down. Even better, I managed to steal a boot knife from a distracted guard and hide it under my tunic. Zarek must have gone through the rest of the morning’s court with blistering speed, because it wasn’t long before the guards moved me again. They had stopped shoving and punching me—uncertain about my current status—so I strolled with them into a new section of the palace, taking time to look around.
Stone carvings were prevalent. The design of the building and furniture featured jagged edges and sharp angles. Even the hall veered at random times, as if following the zigzag pattern of the Hazor emblem. It would make running a challenge. I memorized our route and watched for signs of exits.
We arrived at massive metal doors where four equally massive soldiers stood guard. Two held syncbeams. I was all too familiar with these focused heat weapons. I’d stolen one last time I was here, in order to develop a shielding technology for our clan. The polished black half-sphere was awkward to hold and difficult to aim, but the amount of damage discharged from the angled crystals inside the sphere was brutal. Cameron’s temptation to barter for weapons like these was almost forgivable. Even a Restorer wouldn’t last long against these weapons.
Two of the soldiers muscled the large doors open. My guards led me forward. To my right, Zarek sat at a massive table formed from a broken slab of polished rock. He ignored our entrance, focusing on a meal spread before him. A seating area to my left held stark wooden chairs around a low stone bench where a few carved statues stood guard over a bowl of fruit. Woven tapestries covered the walls with images of the steep mountain peeks near Sidian. This was clearly part of the king’s personal apartments, but still didn’t reveal any indulgences toward comfort.
A steward cleared away the dishes in front of Zarek. Too bad. I was hungry and hoping he would decide to be hospitable while we talked. The guards escorted me straight to the table and waited.
Zarek took a swig from a heavy mug and handed it to another steward. He turned to look at me. “Sit down.”
A guard pulled out a chair on the same side of the wide table as the king, and steered me into it. Zarek looked at the guard and gave a staccato nod. I swiveled my head around to see what was coming next.
Both guards marched from the room, and the soldiers on watch outside pulled the heavy doors closed again. The stewards had disappeared. My muscles moved to high alert. The solitude could provide a unique opportunity.
Zarek angled his chair to face mine, leaning his left elbow on the table. “I wanted privacy for this discussion. It’s a dangerous matter for conversation, even for a king.”
I sat back, crossing my arms, letting one hand find the dagger hidden under my tunic.
The king studied me through narrow eyes. “I also thought you seemed more intelligent than most of the barbarians who’ve crossed our borders from your clans.”
It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. The banished. Thieves, murderers, and the occasional political dissident. I could imagine the kind of impression some of them had made when they wandered into Hazor.
When I didn’t respond, he frowned. “Maybe I was wrong.”
Stall for time to make a plan. I leaned forward, my hand palming the hilt of the dagger through the gap in the side seam of the tunic. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you want to discuss.”
That didn’t help. Color rose on his skin. “Bezreth asked me to turn you over to her—to let your blood pay for disrupting her ceremony. But I wanted to talk to you first. Do you or don’t you have knowledge about the One?” The banked irritation in his voice flashed with the heat of anger.
I smiled and shifted, pretending to stretch. “Oh, of course. Yes, and I was—”
I shot across the few paces between us, got behind him, and held the blade firmly under one ear. Major arteries. A quick death when I slit his throat. “I was sent here by the One.” Vindication rushed through me. But before I could pull the blade across his neck, a fierce pain erupted inside my head. A vision flashed into my mind and froze all my muscles.
Zarek tensed. In a second he’d make a countermove and things would get messy.
I had to act now. I tightened my grip on the dagger, but like a blinding blow to the skull, the vision exploded again—a clear picture of Zarek and me talking. I shook my head and kept a tight grip on his shoulders, confused by the strong image.
I pressed the blade against his throat again, but my hand refused to finish the job. I groaned. “I thought I was sent to destroy you, like the hill-god shrine.”
Zarek didn’t breathe, didn’t try to speak.
I eased the knife back. “But I think . . . I think I was sent here to talk to you.” This was the opportunity to destroy the greatest threat to our clans . . . probably earn myself back from banishment as a hero to the People of the Verses. And now I couldn’t pull the knife across his bare throat and end this. I had gone completely insane. Holy One, let me kill him.
Again the picture in my mind seared my brain. His answer was clear. I released my grip on Zarek and backed away without trying to hide my confusion.
Zarek sprang to his feet and glared at me. “Your One stayed your hand?”
Miserable, I nodded and backed away another step.
“Because He wants you to talk to me?”
“Yes. I think so.” I pressed the heel of my hand against my temple. My head still ached from the sharpness of the vision. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Zarek stared at me. His knuckles rubbed the skin under his jaw absently. “All right. We’ll talk. First give me the knife.”
Right. I’d just tried to kill him, and he wanted me to hand over my only weapon? I took another step back. The vision stabbed me behind the eyeballs again, making me double over.
Zarek could have taken me right then, but he didn’t move. He only watched me.
Straightening with effort, I walked toward him, my dagger resting across my open palm. He took it and examined it for a moment, probably figuring out which careless guard I had lifted it from.
In a blink he grabbed the front of my tunic and jabbed the point of the blade firmly under my jaw. “I could kill you ten different ways for what you just did.”
I closed my eyes and listened to my heart jump to double-time.
He shoved me toward the chair and waved the dagger. “But first I think we’d better have that talk.”
Collapsing into the chair, I lowered my head into my hands. The One sent me here to talk to Zarek? If He wanted someone who was good at conversation, why didn’t he send Susan? She could have talked his ears off and enjoyed every minute.
Zarek settled across from me. “Well? Were you sent or not?”
I lifted my head and saw the intensity of Zarek’s impatience. Sweat prickled my scalp. “Awesome in majesty is the One eternal,” I said quietly.
The king’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
I swallowed, my mouth dry. “He . . . has always existed. He will never stop being and . . . His power is beyond all others.”
“How do you know?” Zarek was toying with the dagger. If he didn’t like my answer, would he fling it into my heart? His ornate tunic couldn’t mask the huge muscles of his upper body. He could probably impale me with one throw.
Keep your mind on the topic, Kieran. “He gave us Verses. Each clan has the Records—the truth about who He is, what He’s done. The history of our people.”
“I need those records,” Zarek said, half to himself.
Great. I was going to be the cause of another invasion. I needed to turn the direction of this conversation. Fast. “Why do you want to know all this?”
I expected him to ignore my question, but he sat back and nodded, as if he’d finally heard something intelligent. “I was there. Morsal Plains.” His face hardened, and my mind traveled again to the dagger in his hand, the guards with syncbeams outside the door, not to mention his well-equipped prison and torture rooms. “Yes, we were deceived by your tricks.” His eyes flicked over me with raw hostility. “But that wasn’t why we were driven back.”
Now it was my turn to nod. It had been a bizarre and impossible battle.
“Electric beams flew at us from the sky. Then that she-demon rode out with the guardians and couldn’t be stopped. A dozen soldiers swear they pierced her with swords and nothing worked. As I watched that battle, I decided to win the One to our side. Hazor is the strongest nation. We need to possess the strongest god.”
Shamgar, he was getting this mixed up. I tried to find a tactful way to explain. “The One can’t be possessed by a nation—”
“You mean He has no promised loyalties with your clans?” Zarek was looking even more hopeful.
“No. I mean, yes, He does. I mean,” I raked a hand through my hair, tugging it in frustration. “I mean He’s not a weapon we possess. We serve Him.”
Zarek grinned and his chest expanded. “We know how to serve the gods.”
Holy One, why didn’t you send Susan to do this? “No. The One doesn’t want sacrifices like that. Remember? He told me to make it stop.”
“But He sent you here. He must want an alliance with Hazor.”
“I’m not sure what He wants. Just let me finish telling you the Verses. Please.”
He waved a hand at me to continue.
“Awesome in majesty is the One eternal. Perfect in His might and power, the only truth and only source.” I plowed forward.
Zarek interrupted again. “That can’t be right.”
And so the whole afternoon went. I wasn’t thrilled with his motives, but he was certainly hungry to learn everything about the One. He dissected each Verse and raised questions that made my head throb.
Several times I wished I had ignored the visions and slit his throat, but by the time I recited the promise of the Deliverer, I anticipated his eager questions and felt a kinship with him. I admitted there were things I didn’t understand yet. “In our clans the songkeepers have the job of explaining the Verses and leading our worship of the One. I’m not a songkeeper.”
“Yes, I can believe that,” he said dryly. Then he tilted his head and studied me again. “So what exactly are you?”
Dangerous question. “I suppose you could say I’m . . . a messenger.”
