Fenton agreed. “No sense being
executed on an empty stomach.”
*~*~*~*
“What of this merchant you were
found with?” Fenton asked, as he escorted me to the washrooms. Marcus offered
me his arm, which I gratefully accepted. My two guards kept pace just in our
wake.
“Aaron? He’s harmless. His only
crime is having the misfortune to know me.”
Marcus grumbled his agreement.
“He’s a good man. I spoke with him yesterday evening. Got a merchant’s license
to harvest in the Uncharted Realms after the war, and a nice little villa on
the shores of Lake Delgado. He cooks and sells alchemical spices. His wife and
son burned along with half of Ascension City after Declan unleashed the
Degradation. Also works part-time as a custodian in the Forgetful Library. He’s
a good man, with no real love for this one.” Marcus pointed at me.
Fenton seemed to take Marc at his
word. “I’ll see that he’s released.”
“Does my grandfather still work
at the Library?” I asked. I’d not seen the old man in years. Aloysius Hale, my
father’s father. A tall, bespectacled gentleman unfortunate enough to share
both a first and last name with two of Forget’s most dangerous criminals.
“He was imprisoned for treason
against the Dragon Throne,” Fenton said.
“Ah, I thought something like
that might have… no matter. He lives?”
“To my knowledge, yes. In
relative comfort given his years of service as Chief Librarian. He wrote an
interesting story after your banishment that proclaimed you as king, which was
a harmless act in and of itself, until he littered the city with copies of the
story. He also wrote that you prevented a Voidling invasion, through a reality
storm, in the Thrice-Kindly works.”
“He wrote all that? Well, it’s
mostly true, I guess.”
“Stories upon stories,” Marcus
remarked, stroking his chin. “I don’t like being back, but we’ve been away too
long, Declan.”
“I was just thinking the same
thing.”
“You should have stayed gone,”
Fenton said. “What happens next is your own doing.”
“Oh, you never know. Maybe I’ll be
welcomed home with open arms.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We Three
Kings
“I demand his head!” Morpheus
Renegade growled. “My kingdom and realms will revolt if we allow Declan Hale,
the Shadowless Arbiter himself, to go unpunished. His head, Faraday, or our
alliance ends today.”
“I will ask you to remember whose
territory you currently reside in, King Renegade. It is my law here.”
I had been brought before the
entire court of the Knights Infernal and the ruling class of Ascension City. My
arrival was big news, it seemed, and overnight envoys had been sent to the
realms held by the Renegades—across the far-flung reaches of Forget. The
lords of those lands had come themselves to ensure Faraday dealt with me.
I was happy to be wanted after
being ignored for so long.
The ornate white chamber on the
topmost floor of the Fae Palace, as vast as an ancient Roman pantheon, was cast
in light from high arched windows amidst pristine pillars of marbled stone.
Fancy as shit
.
The Dragon Throne was made of
black iron and set upon a crystal dais. Legend held that the throne was forged
from the bones of an ancient dragon and sucked in the daylight like a possessed
shadow. A part of me, and not a small part, heard the seat whispering my name.
I wasn’t handcuffed, which was a
small mercy, but Fenton waited nearby. At least a dozen more Knights stood
guard behind him, not to mention the Knights forming a perimeter around the
edge of the throne room and in the aisles between the rows of benches. If I so
much as sneezed without permission…
Jon Faraday, his hands clasped
behind his back, stood on the dais alongside Morpheus Renegade. Faraday was a
young man—barely thirty—of average height, but solid. He wore a
coat that hid cords of strong muscle. Morpheus was older, pushing sixty. His
face was lined with wrinkles, craggy canyons, under a buzz cut of peppery-grey
hair.
“I will ask
you again, Hale,” Faraday said. “What madness drove you back here? You were
banished. To return covets death.”
“Shall I be honest, Jon? I
missed
you,” I said.
“The truth now.” A thin crown, a
simple golden band, rested on Faraday’s shaven head. The circlet was inscribed
with archaic runes, the indecipherable language of lost Atlantis.
“Because I have to be brave…” I
muttered. “Because I never should have left.”
“You should have died,” Renegade
said. He spoke as if his words should have been obvious to all assembled there.
As if his truth was every truth. Perhaps it was. “How do you stand so
arrogantly before us, casting no shadow as testament to your guilt? The weight
of the crimes on your shoulders would crush any man with a heart.”
“You’re one to speak of hearts,
Renegade. I’ll see you dead one day, old man.” I didn’t care that I spat those
words. “If I were still a Knight you would not be
welcome
in this palace.”
“But you are not,” Faraday said.
He strolled to his stolen throne and sat. “And your return creates turmoil
within peace. Your welcome was revoked. Your titles and honors stripped. It is
because of you the Story Thread frays. This is not a time of war, yet I see no
other judgment here today than… imprisonment in Starhold, and eventual
execution.”
“But he’s such a sweet boy.”
A soft voice, laced with hidden
amusement, echoed across the vast hall. A thousand faces turned and beheld a
woman in red wearing a porcelain facemask.
Amidst the mutterings of the
assembled court, she strolled down the center aisle, between the rows of stone
benches, and joined Renegade and Faraday on the dais overlooking the chamber.
Perplexed and wearing a mask of
my own—one concealing a patient yet surly rage—I tilted my head and
offered her a half-smile. Suddenly her true identity, and why she was here,
came to me.
The Immortal Queen had entered
the throne room.
“My lady,” I said. “Why do you
hide your face? I’m sure to look upon your beauty would pierce my heart like a
knife to the side.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I felt
her grin behind that mask. “Declan Hale is many things, but his actions allow
both our kingdoms to flourish in peace after a century of dark war. It would be
remiss to forget the good he has done. The end to our century of conflict and
the lives that have been saved since.”
I blinked. “Yeah, what she said.”
The Immortal Queen stared at me
from behind her mask. Her gaze was hot and unyielding. Being on the receiving
end of that look was a most uncomfortable and intense sensation. Within those
eyes, I could sense such a vast and lonely breadth of time, like the distant
stars. Perhaps hers was more than just a title. Perhaps she really was
immortal.
King Renegade slammed his
gauntleted fists together. “What purpose does he serve alive? I tell you, none.
You let him live, you let him
free
,
and what manner of dark, Voidish mischief will he wreak against us next, my
love?”
“He is an arbiter of change, for
good or ill.” The Immortal Queen stroked her husband’s cheek. “But perhaps you
are right, Morpheus. Declan Hale is too dangerous to run unchecked.”
To my displeasure, I noticed
Faraday seemed to actually consider those words. And here I was thinking I had
more value alive than dead. Time to play my hand.
I cleared my throat. “Something
is coming, fellas. And lady. Something… Voidish. I can feel it, creeping along
my shadow. I dissuaded Voidlings from our realms once before, on the eve of the
Degradation. When they try again you are going to need me.”
“Give me a better reason,”
Faraday said. He rested his chin on his fist. “Well, Hale? You have more than
earned execution. Breaking your exile alone was enough to ensure that. Half of
Forget screams for your head, and the other half fears you. Those cries cannot
go unheeded and your crimes cannot be pardoned. So what of it, Arbiter? Why
will we need you?”
I gave the question more of my
attention than it deserved. Once I’d dragged the moment out long enough, I
stood up a little taller. “Well, I suppose I can unmake the Degradation, if you
want.”
For a brief moment, anyone there
could have heard a pin drop from a mile away.
Then the room exploded into screams
and chaos.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
And
Promises to Keep…
“Silence!” Jon Faraday, his voice
amplified by Will, bellowed across the vast hall. The command echoed up into
the vaulted ceiling and out over the wide balconies overlooking Ascension City
far below.
After a moment, the hundreds of
people assembled in the throne room regained some semblance of decorum. Soon
the only sound was my soft, gentle laughter. Fenton and my guard seemed uncomfortable,
and perhaps they sensed a sudden but inevitable betrayal. Good for them.
“Explain yourself, Declan,”
Faraday said with harsh intensity, which was good to hear. For the first time,
I’d unnerved him.
I’d been watching Renegade and
his queen during my shock announcement. Of her, I could read nothing behind
that mask, but save for a slightly raised eyebrow, Morpheus hadn’t seemed
surprised. If anything, he looked satisfied. Perhaps I’d confirmed something he
had already suspected.
“I can unmake the Degradation,” I
said. “There’s a backdoor with a broken latch in the shield around Atlantis. I
put it there, just in case.”
Not entirely
untrue.
“I came back because I can no longer bear to see the Story Thread
unravel. It is time to undo past mistakes.”
I was back to kill my murderer,
whoever it may be, but only I knew that. What better way to draw them out than
to dangle the greatest prize in all the worlds? Atlantis. Of course, if the
future was to be believed then my actions, no matter what they were, led to a
brutal death on the floor of my bookshop.
Knowing
that was going to happen was
perhaps enough warning to avoid it. Armed with a glimpse of the future I could
change the past as I knew it. Such knowledge was what made the Historian so
dangerous and respected. That made a strange kind of sense. I could only die
trying.
“The Fourth and Fifth Legions
battle alongside King Renegade’s forces on the Plains of Perdition,” Faraday
said. “They surround the Degradation, Hale, but every day your blasted shield
absorbs more of the Thread, widening and consuming Forget. Every day creatures,
monsters or worse, emerge from within Atlantis and pass through the Degradation
without harm. If it can be ended, then end it.”
“Very well. I’ll need access to
the Plains of Perdition, and room to work. Send four bottles of your finest
scotch to my room, and I’ll get started.”
Faraday shook his head. “I think
not, given the attempt on your life last night.” He glanced briefly at
Renegade. “You will be imprisoned in Starhold until the path to Atlantis can be
prepared. Our armies will scour the Plains and make it safe to work.”
Starhold.
The Forgetful prison.
Ninety per cent of the inmates
had good reason to hate me, more so than the people of Ascension City. I’d put
them there, during my days as a Knight. Faraday had to know that. He had helped
me, before everything went to shit. Cuffed in Will-suppression manacles, I’d be
unlikely to survive an hour inside the celestial jail.
“If it’s all the same to you,
Jon, I’d rather not.”
What game are you
playing, you bastard?
The good king allowed himself an
uncharacteristic smile, which had very little warmth. “A few days in holding
should make you more amenable to aiding the course of peace and justice, Hale.
Take him away.”
He waved his hand, and five
Knights wearing full battle gear—armored chest plating and shielded
facemasks concealing their identity—broke ranks with the rest and
surrounded me. On each of their sleeves was the crest of Starhold—a
six-pointed star above a spire of white stone—the Fae Palace.
These men were to be my jailers.
One of them produced a familiar
pair of manacles and bound my wrists behind my back, good and tight. Bending my
arms back pulled at the stitches in my side. If Emily could see me now… I
missed her and her dancing. Seeing her smile a final time would have been worth
the time to say goodbye.
Oh well.
I wanted to leave the throne room
with a few scathing last words, but the fatigue enchantment was already making
me drowsy. I yawned and winked at the Immortal Queen as I was dragged away and
bundled into one of the elevators that hadn’t been torn apart by hellish demons
last night.
I left the Fae Palace the same
way I’d arrived: under arrest, in handcuffs, and via the landing platform on
the very summit of the obsidian crystal spire. Another two Starhold Knights,
pilots from the look of them, awaited us in front of a fusion-powered cruiser.
They accepted the prisoner transfer and stuffed me into the back of the paddy
wagon. I was alone and fighting sleep. The cruiser was devoid of windows, and I
sat in weak luminescent light as the thrum of the engines powered up and shook
the small craft.