Chapter 14 #2
Once Theron and Myrina had done just that, confirming Dia’s personal seal carved into the obsidian jewel, Myrina nodded, her demeanour changing from aunt to high priestess in an instant.
These were no petty accusations, and she knew that if Orithyia proved the liar, it would be her duty to kill her.
“Head Priestess, if you would give me your ring?”
Dia slipped off her ring and handed it to Myrina without a hint of hesitation. Myrina walked to one of the guards, took a dagger from his belt, and walked to the centre of the court. Placing the ring on the floor, she smashed the jewel with the pommel.
Theron watched Orithyia. She gave no hint that she had been caught, but he supposed if she were an agent of chaos, lies came as naturally as breathing to her.
Perhaps the Triad were indeed merciful. By the end of the day he would be dancing on that bitch’s grave, the blame for the blight would be squarely at her feet, and the Viridian crown would come under suspicion throughout Trisia.
But then the wicked wraith smiled.
Myrina gasped, jumping away from the smashed ring.
“Myrina?” Theron asked.
“Onyx,” she replied, shaken.
Theron stood frozen, his mind sluggish. It wasn’t possible. Dia couldn’t be a dualist, an agent of chaos. There must be some mistake.
“No, that can’t be!” Dia left his arms and knelt on the floor by her smashed ring.
Theron followed her, kneeling where she did. Bile rose. There, the unmistakable black and white bands of onyx.
“Dia, how…?” Theron asked.
“No, she must have switched my ring! Please, you must believe me, Theron!”
Batea knelt at Dia’s side, sifting through the pieces of onyx.
“This must be a trick! Dia can’t be a dualist. You. What have you done?!” Batea shrieked at Orithyia.
“You confirmed the ring was yours, Dia. High Priestess Myrina and King Theron themselves recognized the seal as yours. It is time to stop running from your fate, heretic.” Orithyia raised her chin, triumphant.
“Your Majesty, please get away from her,” Nireus said, grabbing Theron and pulling him away from where Dia knelt on the floor. “Batea, protect your king!”
“I am!” she snarled back. “Theron, don’t believe Orithyia. This is another of her foul tricks, just like the tower. If she’s come after Dia, it’s because Dia is a threat to her schemes.”
She was right. Dia had been there for him his whole life. He would never trust the word of that bitch high priestess over Dia’s. Just as he was about to shrug off his commander’s hold, Polydorus grabbed his shoulder.
“Your Majesty, you cannot be associated with a heretic. Even if you believe in her innocence, you can’t risk it,” he hissed.
“Dia is no heretic,” he hissed back.
“Look at the evidence, Your Majesty,” Canthus replied, his tone sombre and sad. “I know Dia has been like family to you, but you cannot deny the facts.”
“You fucking spineless cowards. This is wrong and you know it!” Batea roared. “I am your sword bearer, Theron. If you can’t fight for her, then I will!”
“Batea, enough! You saw what we saw. Lay down your sword. Please,” Myrina pleaded, hand to her chest, tears threatening.
“No! You’re as much of a coward as they are. You always have been!” Batea screamed.
“Your Majesty, please order your guards and your cousin to step aside so we can put an end to this melodrama,” Orithyia sighed.
“Theron, don’t!” Batea pleaded.
Dia had been like family all his life, had nurtured his mind, challenged him to outwit every opponent, provided counsel and companionship.
Stern, unflappable, wise, and compassionate.
The woman kneeling on the floor of his court, her eyes pleading with him to believe in her, broke his heart.
Every fibre in his being wanted to slay those who would harm her.
But a king could not follow his heart and wear the crown.
If he acted as he wished, he would brand himself a heretic. He would tar all those who had stood at his side with the same. He couldn’t deny her seal ring had been made of onyx any more than he could deny the colour of the sky. As he locked away his heart, Dia began to weep.
“Stand aside,” he said, hating every word.
His guards allowed the paladins entry. They marched up to Dia and Batea.
“I won’t,” Batea replied, unsheathing the royal sword. She ran her finger along the edge.
“Batea! That’s an order as your king,” he retorted.
Nireus placed himself bodily between Batea, Dia, and Theron. He glared at his cousin, willing her to obey him, to see sense. But he knew that look in her eyes and his heart broke anew.
Please, Batea, not you, too.
“No, Theron. I’ll do what needs to be done. You can thank me later.”
Dia placed her hand on Batea’s calf.
“Don’t. Not for me, little beastie. The king needs you.”
“If not for your sake, old crone, then whose?” Batea pressed her bleeding finger to Dia’s head. “To protect you from what will come.”
She plunged her sword into the first unwitting paladin.
“Stop her!” Theron ordered his guards. “Don’t kill her!”
As his guards tried to wrest Batea from the slaughter, the paladins fought back.
They pushed his cousin into the arms of the guards, who tried to detain her.
Batea was a better fighter than any of them and ruthlessly fought through their hold on her.
But ten to one was never going to be a fair fight.
“Bind her!” Theron shouted as Nireus and Canthus shielded him from the violence.
“I hereby strip you of your divine magic, heretic,” Orithyia pronounced, placing her hand on Dia’s head. She leaned down and whispered something only Dia could hear.
Dia screamed. A terrible pressure filled the room, and it seemed the very light of day dimmed as Orithyia dragged the divine magic from Dia’s body. When it was finally done, a hush fell over the throne room. Dia collapsed.
Emotion choked him. His tutor. His friend. Without her divine magic, it was as if she were only half alive. She looked frail, withered. It took every ounce of willpower not to rush to her side, cradle her in his arms, and beg for forgiveness. What had he allowed to happen?
“Cut off her head,” Orithyia commanded.
No!
Damn you, think!
He couldn’t spare her from having her divine magic revoked, but there must be some way to save her life. Some way to keep her out of Orithyia’s clutches without making himself look like a heretic himself.
As the paladin advanced, sword drawn, Batea wrested an arm free of the guards and whistled.
The shrill sound caught everyone’s attention.
Then the shrieking of beasts rang out.
“What have you done?” Dread crept down Theron’s spine.
“What you should have,” Batea retorted. Her gaze, usually so fiery and animated, had gone as cold as a winter’s frost. It was the look of the determined damned. Whatever she’d done, she knew the consequences would be dire.
“Paladin, you have your orders,” Orithyia snapped.
But the paladin’s blade never reached Dia’s neck—only his blood.
Faster than any could have seen, a serpent the size of a man had shot through the doors of the open balcony, held aloft by black clouds.
With a single bite of its razor-sharp teeth, it severed the arm of the paladin, taking the sword along with it.
Pandemonium reigned as the paladin fell screaming, bleeding out.
Half the paladins surrounded Orithyia as the others raised their blades to fell the beast.
“Eat,” Batea commanded.
Dozens more flying serpents poured through the balcony on dark winds, each smaller than the last. As they flooded the throne room, they turned on the paladins, falling on them as though starving, ripping, rending, shrieking, and writhing. Batea had lied. There were more monsters just like Drakon.
“Stop them, now!” Theron commanded her.
Batea refused to answer, her focus solely on her beasts.
She’d said her beasts only moved when commanded by the mind of their owner—and Batea had demanded blood.
They would kill Orithyia in moments, tearing through paladins like wet rags.
And then it would be over for his cousin.
Was Orithyia’s death worth his cousin’s life?
No.
Theron sank his magic into Batea, closing her airway and cutting off blood to her brain.
She struggled for a moment, maybe two, then collapsed.
Her beasts paused in their assault, just long enough for the remaining paladins to turn the tide, hacking off heads and chasing the now rudderless beasts away.
As his guards fully bound and gagged Batea’s limp form, Theron’s mind spun.
Think, you damn fool. As her fetters were secure, his heart leapt in his chest. Yes, that was the answer.
When the last of her beasts lay slain, Theron dared to revive his cousin.
She gasped, coughing, her movements sluggish. Myrina rushed to her side.
As a paladin raised his blade high to strike Dia dead, Theron called out.
“Stop.”
Orithyia sighed in frustration.
“Your Majesty, your cousin has already proven herself to be a traitor and a heretic sympathiser. Do not taint yourself out of pity for an old tutor,” Orithyia said.
“There has been enough bloodshed today. Dia has been rendered powerless by your own hand, has she not?”
“She is without divine magic, Your Majesty, not without the favour of her sinister goddess.”
“I, for one, would like to know why she turned to Lies. When she turned her back on Knowledge. For the safety of my kingdom, I must know how far the rot has spread. She will remain in my dungeon until I have my answers.”
And if her innocence could be proven, then he would have a chance to make it right and take Orithyia down for good. A sour expression darkened the high priestess’ face.
“As you wish, Your Majesty, but know this—an agent of chaos can never be trusted to speak the truth. Be careful she doesn’t poison the minds of anyone else in your inner circle,” she said, eyeing Batea tellingly.
“As for your cousin, I expect you to remand her into my custody. She has slain my paladins in an attempt to murder me, and she will face Justice.”