Chapter 49 #2
“Orion, calm yourself.” Aurelia steps forward but stops herself from sitting in the empty Guard chair. “We have all suffered. But we shouldn’t make any rash judgments. Not now.”
“Rash! Kamari would have seen me in the cells. She would have seen me banished, and opened us up to slaughter, and you see me as rash?”
I sneak a look at Ten but can’t read his expression.
“Orion, we can see to the defences after the integrity of The Court has been restored. We have the burials to see to. We need to lay our people to rest. Let us pay our respects before moving to other actions,” General Aster speaks up with two other Warrior officers at his sides.
“No. Kirrasia must be protected. We will not be deceived again.” His eyes flash up, and he finds me in the crowd. “There are dangers from within. We must ensure that they don’t have the opportunity to take root. We will not fall for deception again.”
I am not here to fight. I am not here to fight. I run the words through my mind as I try to swallow what Orion is saying.
“Kamari was the one to deceive. All the Guards were,” Perrin lends his voice to the debate.
“And I move to remove all Guards from their positions of rule within Kirrasia, and to bring all Guards back to Kirrasia to cut off their influence further. They are dangerous.”
“Orion!” Aurelia’s gasp is echoed amongst most of the Chamber. She moves this time, her long silver hair cascading down her back. “This is unacceptable.”
“It is done.”
“No, it is not.” Portia stands. “You do not dictate, Orion. No Warrior, no Order can.”
I wanted change, but not this. It’s happening all over again.
“Lyle, we need to do something.” I tug Ten, but he lets my hand drop, and I move away from the argument that I fear is about to ensue with Lyle.
The crowd around me is only interested in the words of Orion Ciro and the chaos he’s stirring.
The murmurings from the Chamber members morph from discussions to arguments.
No one is happy with the suggestion from Ten’s father.
I skirt around the people and wander up towards the dais, to the statue of Aslendrix.
This shouldn’t be the way.
A Guard chose to conceal the truth of the Fifths and what started before, but it would have taken everyone for the plan to succeed. Now, a Warrior wants to cut off their voice and position?
“Lyle, what do we do?”
She takes the final step to the dais. “Do you need to do anything?” She tilts her head. “Is this your fight?”
I look down on the people below. Ten has moved to protect his mother, who is facing a tirade from a Warrior. Aurelia and Orion seem locked in an argument, the other Heads of Orders looking to calm the situation.
I said I would only fight my brother. That’s what I came here to do, and I killed him. But what if this doesn’t stop at the border? What if, after everything, the fears for the rest of the continents haven’t been averted?
“Stop!” The command erupts from me as if someone has overtaken me. But it has the desired effect, and the room stills. “There is another way.”
They are the wrong words, as they further push the people into a panic. It all happens so quickly.
One of the Warriors races the steps towards me and seizes my arm, attempting to drag me down. Lyle rushes forward, but another Warrior blocks her.
“Ever!” Ten’s voice travels from across the room, but the man facing me has a tight grip, his fingers digging into my flesh.
I’m back in the ring, my boots digging into the grit and sand, and Ten’s coming at me with a blade. I pull and thrash against my captor, but he won’t budge, and he smirks in my face.
“It is true then. Not so scary without your powers, huh.” I pull my fist back and take aim.
“Hey, Ever. Let me.” Calix catches my fist in his and nods to me before unleashing his own punch, sending the Warrior tumbling over.
“Arghhh, you can’t do that,” he complains behind his hands, protecting his now very broken nose.
“He can. He was protecting a fellow trainee.” General Aster’s presence looms large over the Warrior now bleeding onto the stone floor
“Aster, what are you doing?” Orion shrieks.
“The right thing.”
“Stand down.”
“No.” Ten blocks his father, inciting their own standoff.
The room has parted into two factions. Not for or against the Guards and Orion’s new plan, and not those with or with less magic, but those for or against me.
I thought I would come here and offer a voice, like the Maker said, about her taking rule in place of the Orders. Instead, I have only added to the problems they face.
The bickering, the opposition, the two sides continue to mount before me, and it is paralysing to watch.
I don’t belong here.
It’s the strongest single thought in my mind and impossible to ignore.
I pull Lyle down the steps and catch Ten moving towards me, no longer the buffer between his father and me.
“This isn’t what I want. I can’t be the reason for this.” I grab his arms as I feel myself fall into panic.
“Hey, this isn’t on you. My father will come around. He’ll see.” Ten rubs my arms, pushing a warmth into them through the thin sparkling material.
I look around and see Orion heading for the dais. But the familiar, and now welcome, strike of the Maker’s staff on the stone stops everyone in the room.
“It is clear that you all have forgotten what Aslendrix values above all.” She uses her voice as her introduction, and walks from the back of the room, parting us as she does.
She climbs the steps, beating Orion to the pinnacle, before turning to us all—her subjects.
“Balance. She has waited. She has watched. And now you turn on the one that has saved you from a fate that would signal a reckoning like no other.” The Maker’s command begs no interruptions, but the people around us look to me.
“You are all here while the rest of Kirrasia mourns. You bicker over deception and power. You are lucky you still have your magic,” she scolds.
Her Triune appear and carry her chair, the same one that looks like it’s grown from trees themselves, and place it under the statue of Aslendrix. She hobbles her way over and takes her seat.
Ten places his hand on my shoulder as we wait for what else she has to say.
“We will not ostracise the Guard Order. That is final. Decisions governing Kirrasia, trials, and positions won’t be decided as they were before. Your magic, when you were born, and your unique gifts will all still have strength, but we will not hold that as the key regard any longer.”
The room erupts into noise, but her staff strikes against the stone, silencing everyone.
“We have tried it your way, and that has led to nothing but division and uprising. Balance. Peace—these must be preserved.” Her voice erupts inside our minds, silencing anyone who dares speak up against the daughter of the Goddess.
“Punishments have been imposed. There is no single Order that is above us all. We will not do this through more division. Kirrasia must find a way to come back together. This will be the way.”
Nobody speaks. Nobody dares.
“We will be vulnerable now, more so, because we have allowed fear and power to rule decisions. We must remember our place. Give thanks to our Goddess.” She speaks aloud this time.
“Blessed may she ever be.” The chorus rises up.
“These changes will see the Orders answer to me. I will no longer be a bystander. Is that understood? Kirrasia will prevail.”
My shoulders sag, and I release the fear that had settled inside of me. She did it. She intervened, and it hasn’t cost me.
It might be my choice for Kirrasia, but the Chamber members aren’t without questions. Grumbles and murmurs grow louder. I don’t have sympathy. How can I, for these are those who have sought to feather their own nest for far too long?
Ten is motionless next to me, his father still lingering on the steps between the floor and the dais he once took so much joy from occupying.
“You will ensure the word is spread. The border will be open for those Kirrians who left. It is imperative that our message reaches far and wide. There will be a great deal of work to do to turn this tide.”
“Will Aslendrix still bless us?” A Warrior speaks up, but I don’t miss the scathing look from General Aster.
“Do you deserve to be blessed with magic? When was the last time you honoured Aslendrix? When was the last time you, in this room, gave thanks for your power?” The Maker waits for an answer. None is delivered.
“The Battle of Hart won’t be forgotten!” someone shouts, and it reverberates around the hall. That name. It cracks through the air as if someone just wielded a whip, splitting me open, leaving me raw to my bones.
It signals the start of something. A shift in the wind. A change in the season. Everyone feels it, for it ripples through as people turn their eyes to me, waiting for my response. It was my name, after all. My name, they’ve named this battle after.
Lyle slips her hand in mine, and I hold on to it, the tether and strength I need to remain standing.
I will never be free.
It doesn’t matter that I never met my parents, or that my brother killed me. My name is all over this fight, and I won’t ever escape it.
Maybe the Maker can grant me one more favour.