With Footfalls of Shadow Read online

  Killing Thelonious had been difficult for Gastious, as the boy was perhaps the only person who had ever shown him any kindness, but once again, Gastious’s loyalty was rewarded. Arconus began taking Gastious with him in public, always dressed in fine clothing. He was held in esteem far above the other servants, and even had respect from the nobles. After killing Thelonious, he gave no thought to killing anyone else whom Arconus deemed an obstacle to his power.

  Arconus took over the clan business as his father grew sick and feeble. Gastious watched in admiration as Arconus grew in stature among his clan, eventually working his way to become clan leader, and then King.

  Through the course of all of those years, Gastious’s remained loyal and was rewarded. He was now the King’s Prime; the most trusted, and most loyal servant to the King of Jeandania; and today he would prove this beyond all doubt.

  General Theron was to stand as witness and questioner. Gastious despised the weak little man.

  “On your knees,” Theron began.

  Gastious would have gladly offered his head to his King before offering his knees to this worm, but did as he was ordered.

  Theron began reading from a scroll. “Gastious, the King’s personal bodyguard, lone prisoner from the battle at Anderath. You are charged with committing heinous acts against the citizens of Jeandania.”

  The crowd booed. Theron looked at Gastious and shook his head, encouraging the enraged crowd for a moment, then silencing them with an open hand.

  “Further, and most seriously, you are charged with high treason, for joining with General Riley in a plot to overthrow the King.”

  The crowd booed again, hissed and threw taunts at Gastious.

  “Is it true, Gastious, that women and children were murdered in Anderath?”

  “Yes, sir. It is true,” he answered.

  “As many as fourteen women and twenty-four children, by our count.”

  Gastious cleared his throat. Torture and execution were work for Gastious, nothing more. He did those things out of duty. Theron, however, seemed to take pleasure in them. Gastious had seen the glee in Theron’s eyes as he chased the women and hacked them down.

  Theron shook his head in feigned disgust. “And why would you participate in such ghastly deeds, Gastious?”

  “I do not question orders from my King,” he answered.

  “And you believe your King could have ordered such horrible ends for these poor people?”

  “I do not question orders from my King. General Riley told me that these citizens were traitors to their King, and must be executed,” Gastious answered. And then the lies began to mount. Gastious wondered idly where General Riley really was during the attack at Anderath. “The law is clear, and I had no reason to question the general. I understood only at Jayden that he was referring to himself as king, not the true king, King Arconus.”

  “And you realised your mistake at Jayden?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gastious answered. “As we moved into Jayden, a citizen threw a stone. One of Riley’s men retaliated, and suddenly there was a battle. It was an unusual situation, but then I recognised you, general, and only knew then that we were fighting our own men. I knew something was wrong, and that is why I withdrew from the battle and sought you out.”

  Theron nodded knowingly. “Yes, people of Jeandania, Gastious did seek me out.”

  Some in the crowd booed, but most remained silent.

  Theron took the stage as witness now, explaining the encounter. “I had Gastious seized at once. He did not resist. I challenged him on his participation in the carnage at Anderath. He related to me the very story he has just told to you.”

  Theron was trying to turn the audience now. Gastious knew Theron had no love for him, but he too was under orders.

  “At first, I did not believe him, angry as I was about what had happened at Anderath, and at General Riley’s treachery. I had Gastious chained and caged to be brought before the King. On my journey back to Kraal, I thought on Gastious’s words, and I began to believe him. I spoke with him one night, and found his bearing confident and his story consistent. Further, he told me he was willing to give his life for his part in Riley’s treachery, ignorant though he was of the general’s ambitions.”

  Gastious looked through the crowd. Faces registered a range of emotions; from hatred, to confusion, to sympathy. Gastious had always been perplexed by the political games these men played, swaying the minds of the public one way or another. These matters were not in his nature, and he rarely understood why a certain political decision was made at the time of its making. But now he could see how the course of this trial was working towards the King’s end. Gastious was a hated figure in Jeandania, and describing the carnage at Anderath had roused the citizens almost to a fever. Deflection. It was one of Arconus’s rules of propaganda, and he was using it now. They hoped to deflect the hatred and bitterness engendered by the carnage away from Gastious and towards their enemy, Riley.

  “I told Gastious that I hoped he was telling the truth,” Theron said in a gentle tone. “But this was a judgment the King, himself, must make.”

  Theron paced before the chained prisoner. “I just can’t help but wonder, Gastious, why Riley would have brought you with him in the first place. You are the King’s personal bodyguard, and anything Riley did would surely have come back to the King.”

  Gastious was prepared for the next phase of the trial. Now they would employ Arconus’s next rule of propaganda: Inversion. Accuse the enemy of the very crimes you commit, preferably while you are committing them. The King always smiled when contemplating this rule. He said it was because he was tickled by its sheer audacity.

  “I do not think he meant for me to live, sir. I think he only meant for me to be seen.”

  Theron acted confused. “But why would he do such a thing?”

  “I believe he wished to give the appearance that the terrible things that happened at Anderath were the King’s doings, not his. He committed those acts simply to turn the people against His Royal Highness. I think he planned to kill me in Jayden, perhaps even claim to be Jayden’s defender against a cruel king.”

  The crowd started booing and hissing again. But Gastious felt certain it was all directed at Riley now. It seemed their little play was working out exactly as planned, but now it was time for the final act. Gastious took a deep breath. He was still uncertain of how it would end.

  The King raised his hand to silence the crowd. He let the moment linger. Then he said, “Gastious, my most faithful servant. It pains me to see you at this time, on this stage. But here we are. Let us come to the charges. You are charged with committing heinous acts against citizens of Jeandania. How do you plead?”

  Gastious knelt, and kept his head down as he answered. “I am guilty, sire. I committed acts against innocent people which I painfully regret.”

  Some sneers issued from the crowd, but most were silent.

  The King continued, “You are also accused of high treason, for joining with General Riley in an uprising against Jeandania’s King. How do you plead?”

  “Innocent, Your Highness. I would never rise against you, and had I known of Riley’s treachery, I would have killed him myself.”

  The King sat for a long moment. Gastious fought off the urge to look upon Arconus. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead to his nose. It itched, but he resisted scratching. Another rolled down, and another, seeming to measure the time. Gastious thought the sensation might drive him mad.

  Finally, the King spoke. “Gastious, rise.”

  As Gastious gained his feet, the King said, “I understand your predicament, Gastious, but you must understand the law is quite clear. You followed the orders of a man who has sworn to overthrow me. The law says you must die.”

  Terror leapt into Gastious’s chest. He swallowed hard and pushed it back. If he were to die today, he would die with honour. It took a great effort to speak, but when he did, his voice sounded strong and confident. “As my King commands
.”

  Gastious bowed deeply, trying to stop his legs from shaking. Finally he decided to act. He stood up, walked over to the chopping block, and set his head upon it. He would walk to his death, rather than be pushed to it by Theron or some other weakling. He was conscious only of his own breathing. It was many breaths before the King spoke again.

  “Gastious, my most loyal servant, again I ask you to rise.”

  Relief spread through his body, immediately followed by a different kind of dread. Now he knew how the play would end. He stood again, faced the King, and bowed while he awaited the King’s words.

  “Gastious, I know you were duped by the snake-minded General Riley. It is not surprising that he was able to take advantage of your simple nature.”

  Even now, those words stung. Gastious was not simple, but it was better that the citizens thought he was.

  “In all you did, misguided as your actions might have been, you thought you were acting on my behalf. In your heart, you were loyal to me always.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. I have always been, and always will be, the King’s most loyal servant,” he said humbly.

  “I know this is true, Gastious, and that is why, in spite of your crimes, I grant you your life.”

  A low murmur of discussion ebbed through the crowd.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Gastious responded.

  “Now,” the King said, and Gastious’s chest tightened again. “I have given you your life. What will you give me in return?”

  Gastious walked back to the chopping stump, and withdrew the sharpest sword with his right hand. He raised his arms in the air and clenched his left fist. He opened his hand and clenched it again several times. Then he put his left arm on the stump and hacked through, just below the elbow.

  XVI

  After weeks of official reports stating that Liam Foster was dead, Foster walked into the centre of Endrin in quiet, open defiance of the King. And beside the running water of the fountain in the town square, he bestowed upon us the sign of the resistance.

  Further, it is now clear why the King was so eager to rid himself of Foster. Foster, it seems, is of royal blood ...

  – Lazaro’s Flame

  Liam woke from a long, deep sleep. He resisted the consciousness that was slowly seeping in. He was warm and unaware in these waking moments. He wished to stay that way, because somewhere in the deepest reaches of his mind, he knew that waking meant remembering. But the elements were persistent. He felt the earth beneath him, and he was surrounded by the lively sounds of the forest. He slowly opened his eyes to see the dawn breaking through the trees, and his chest began to tighten. He had lost Brandi. He had lost his home, and his life’s work. And now he had lost Rhoie. He closed his eyes again, and braced himself as the pain came in a rush.

  He lay there for some time, staring at the leaves rustling in the wind, contemplating his options. He no longer cared if the Bok found him and killed him. Chasing the windcat had separated him from the group. The Talons were somewhere upriver. He believed he was not far from the river. Perhaps if he reached it and followed it upstream, the Talons would find him. Perhaps he could teach them some of the things he had learned as a member of the Sha’grath. But that would just lead to more violence, more dead young men. Liam thought of their tattoos, their intense dedication, a hair’s breadth from fanaticism. He might be able to help them to harness their intensity. He might be able to teach them to fight better, to keep themselves alive longer, but only for a little while. Blade, Dilano, Darryck – he had travelled with them long enough to grow fond of them. That was reason enough not to go up river. He had lost enough. Those young men would be lucky to escape another conflict alive. The last thing Liam wanted to do was strengthen their resolve. No, the last thing he wanted to do was grow closer to these men only to see them die.

  Liam lay there on the cold ground, watching the beautiful light that passed through the trees and shimmered in the mist. The air was fresh and lively. He could hear the Taiandathan River cutting through the surface of Jeandania. The rhythms of the land beat on, oblivious to the troubles of one man. Liam took comfort in his insignificance and tried to rest. He latched on to the harmony of the wood. The hours passed. There were nightmares. There was pain in his sore muscles and from his wound, which, he was sure, was now infected. There was fever, regret, unbearable guilt and enraging impotence. But there were also moments of reprieve, when Liam was able to escape into oblivious sleep.

  Finally, in the early afternoon, he rose and made a decision. He would make his way downriver. The Talons would fare well enough without him. He did not know exactly where he was, but he knew he would not have to travel many hours, perhaps days, before finding a village along the riverside. Once he found a town, he would be anonymous, a drifter. He would get by. He would cherish the memories of his loved ones, and he would avoid any conflict with the King.

  Liam found the river after a short time, then began his hike. It was gruelling at first. The stiffness in his body worked against him. At least he’d had some much-needed rest, but the infection in his side weakened him and dulled his senses. He forced his weary body to move on into the evening. He paused only to pick a few berries, roots and plants he knew to be of some nutritional value.

  As it grew dark, he reached a steep decline in the path. The river became a sloping waterfall, and the land opened before him. Here he could see for leagues, and in the distance, the flickering lanterns of a nearby town were part of his vision. This would be his new start. This would be the place where he could shed his past and start anew. He liked to be near the water. He would find a nice, small pub. Maybe he could sleep in a small room at the back. He would live out his years as the benevolent bartender. He would lend a kind ear to his guests, and he would ease their troubles with ale and a friendly word. He would keep his past, and his opinions, to himself. He would know nothing, think nothing, and with any luck, from time to time he would remember nothing.

  ~Æ~

  Liam paused outside the town. He brushed as much dirt from his clothing as he could manage, but there was no way to hide the tears in the fabric. His garments were also full of blood; some his, some not. He still had a few coins that had been in his pouch since the night in Snake’s Mouth. He would have to buy better clothing before he could look for a job. For now he only wanted to find a comfortable inn where he could have a bath and tend to his wound. He needed a few days to rest and to heal.

  It was late in the evening. Liam was tired, but by now he was accustomed to exhaustion. He stood up straight, squared his shoulders, and continued forward.

  Liam approached the sign marking the border of the town, which read Endrin. He had some vague recollections of this place. He judged it to be good-sized town for his purpose. It was small enough to be fairly insignificant to the workings of Jeandania, but hopefully big enough for Liam to get lost in.

  The houses were narrow, two-story sandstone constructions built quite near one another. They were modest, well-made, and looked comfortable.

  A young man and woman were walking together down the road in the opposite direction. They looked at Liam, trying not to stare. Perhaps they were wary of strangers. Or perhaps they were disturbed by his tattered appearance. Liam smiled at them and nodded amicably. He would have said a word, but he was too tired to make the effort. There would be time enough to make friends. He kept on down the street and towards the centre of town, where he would have the best chance of finding a place to stay. More and more people were walking about as he reached the first shops and bars. He would enter the first inn he spotted.

  The people of the town were behaving strangely, he thought. It felt like everyone was staring at him, but trying to hide it. Perhaps he looked more beaten and bloody than he realised. A young man walked towards him, alone. He stared directly at Liam as he approached. As he neared, his expression changed, as if he were hiding a smile. His eyes seemed to twinkle as he passed, and he gave Liam a knowing nod.

  As Liam walke
d on, the people stopped hiding their stares. He saw a few children rush to the side of the road and stop abruptly, pointing at Liam and whispering to each other. Liam was confused. Perhaps this was a bad idea. They seemed to recognise him, but how? He was sure he had never seen any of them before. Perhaps one or two had been to his tavern, but surely not the whole of Endrin. He had to get out of town and make camp somewhere. He would have a bath another time. His dreams of slipping into anonymity, it seemed, were not likely to work here. He walked on. He would turn around in a moment. He just needed to sit down and rest, to gather some energy for his hike back into the forest. His side burned, he was fatigued, and the thought of continuing the hike after anticipating a warm bath and a bed, sapped the last of his energy.

  The people of the town were forming a sizable crowd now, lining the streets. By Ishra’s Bow, what was going on?

  Liam saw a fountain in the middle of the road, a block away. It must be the town centre. Fresh water, a moment’s rest, and he would be on his way. He shook his head briskly, and took a deep breath. He was not thinking straight. He should have turned around at the first moment of discomfort at these people’s behaviour. Now here he was, so tired that he was fixated on finding a place to rest rather than assessing the danger that might come to pass by the attention of these people. His wound tore at him. He cursed the infection, as he knew it was partially responsible for his foolish behaviour, but he was near to the fountain now. What difference would a few more paces make? He kept walking, and the crowd around him grew bigger.