Hellfire (10 page)

But she was here for Alton,
just as he’d been there for her. She needed to think about that, why and how
he’d suddenly become so terribly important to her, but not now. Now she needed
to act. Ginny raised her chin and looked into Taron’s bright green eyes.
“Alton’s the bravest, most honorable man I’ve ever known,” she said. “How can
they treat him like a criminal?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying
to tell them, how I’ve attempted to sway Alton’s father, Chancellor Artigos.
He’s the head of the Council of Nine and his feelings, one way or another, will
affect how the other senators decide to vote. I’ve tried to convince him that
Alton has acted honorably to protect our world, that the other men should be
following his example, not censuring him for it.”

“Alton says they’ve forgotten
how to fight.” Ginny paused in her pacing and glared at Taron. “Is that true?”

He shook his head. “I don’t
know. There are no warriors still living, none beyond Alton. The men living
today were but children when the first demon wars were fought. They only
remember fear and hardship. The oldest surviving member of our race, the only
one who might remember, is a female, who, for some unknown reason, has chosen
to exile herself from Lemurian society.”

“I thought Lemurians were
immortal. Doesn’t that mean you live forever?”

Taron sat on the arm of the
couch while Ginny paced back and forth. “Immortality means we have the
potential to live forever, but our elders reach a point where they no longer
find joy in life. When that happens, they choose to leave their physical bodies
and become spirit.”

“Like ghosts?” At least this
conversation was taking her mind off Alton.
A little.
She wondered how long it would be before he called Taron to bring her. She
wished she shared his ability to use telepathy. Not having contact with Alton
was making her crazy.

“In a way,” Taron said. “Much
of our history is more legend than known fact. Most of our records disappeared
when Lemuria sank beneath the sea, but we’re taught that the swords our
warriors once carried held the departed spirits of ancients. That Alton’s
HellFire, for instance, might have fought demons in the DemonWars thousands of
years ago. Legend says there are spirits within the swords, but they don’t want
to converse with a man they don’t respect.”

Ginny nodded. “That’s sort of
what Alton said, why he was so frustrated even after battling demons, when
HellFire wouldn’t talk to him. Then when HellFire finally acknowledged Alton
and started talking, he was”—she glanced at the sword, now tightly bound within
the leather scabbard, and whispered—“sort of snarky.
Like he
was really pissed about being stuck in Alton’s sword.”
She covered her
mouth to keep from giggling.

“Snarky?”
Taron glanced at the sword and grinned. “Alton got a snarky sword?”

“Yep.
And what’s really bad is that, according to Alton, Dax, the ex-demon, got one
with a really classy voice, but the best is Eddy’s. She’s got a female sword
that chatters away with her like they’re girlfriends.”

“But where did theirs come
from?” Taron stopped in front of the scabbard Ginny’d hung over a
straight-backed chair.

“Alton said after the battle
with the demon, when Eddy used his sword to destroy the avatar, HellFire
replicated himself.”

“Nine hells.
The council’s going to have a fit.” Taron paused and gazed off toward the door.
Then he smiled.
“Alton’s being taken before the council now.
Are you ready?”

Ginny straightened up. “I am,”
she said. And she realized as she said it, that she
was
ready.
Calm, self-confident, and sure of herself.
Sure
of the role she would be playing—whatever that role might be.

She grabbed the leather
scabbard and held HellFire in her arms, close against her chest. Taron picked
up both packs, and when he stepped through the swirling doorway of lights,
Ginny followed. She kept her eyes wide open this time, and her hands didn’t
tremble at all.

In the past, when he’d come
before the Council of Nine in the huge cavern they called the great hall, Alton
had been intimidated by the sheer age and power of the group, not to mention
the icy stare he usually got from his father.

Of course, in the past, he’d
usually been dragged up before the eight senators and his father, the
chancellor, for some minor transgression or another. This was a first. He’d
never actually been arrested before and brought here in chains.
Never had to stand before his father as a wanted criminal with a
price on his head.

He hadn’t been told anything,
though Taron had assured him that the death sentence—unofficially, anyway—had
been lifted. He certainly hoped so. Dying wasn’t on the list of things he hoped
to accomplish with this trip home to Lemuria.

No, he wanted his peoples’
help. The combined worlds needed their help. He had to bring together enough
strong young men—men of the aristocracy, like himself—who wielded crystal
swords and were willing to fight. Men brave enough to go up against the demons
invading Earth’s dimension.

Men willing
to fight the powerful demon king when he returned from Abyss.
There was
no doubt in Alton’s mind the demon king would be back if he wasn’t already, and
when he returned, Alton wanted his army ready with men who still carried the
blood of demon fighters in their veins. Men like his friend Taron.

And women like Ginny—only
there were no Lemurian women like her, even if she did have Lemurian ancestors.
Lemurian women would never fight. Their lives were spent keeping the home calm
and peaceful for their mates, not training and preparing for battle. He
certainly couldn’t see Ginny in the traditional, subservient role like that.
Ginny was a warrior. She’d been one surprise after another. She was tough and
strong and, for whatever reason, she believed in him. She trusted him.

Damn, but he hoped she was
okay. Taron said she was fine, that she had HellFire and seemed to be holding
up well, but Alton hated that she’d been frightened.
Hated to
think of her being treated with any kind of disrespect.
At least he knew
Taron would watch over her. So would HellFire.

He actually felt a connection
to his sword. What a great surprise that had been, to think that even though
Ginny carried the sword safely locked away in its leather scabbard, he remained
aware of and connected to his sword’s sentience. The feeling was so
powerful,
Alton actually felt that if he called HellFire to
him, the sword would come.

He hoped he had no need to
test such a theory. No, this was not the time for theatrics. He merely wanted
to get the council talking about the possibility of actually engaging in the
war. He didn’t expect immediate action—not from Lemurians—but he wanted to know
they’d not closed their minds to the idea.

Now, though, as he stood in
front of the empty dais, there were soldiers on both sides of him,
traditionally dressed in the blue robes and stout sandals soldiers had worn for
as long as Alton could remember. He’d seen images, though, of warriors of old,
and they wore pants and boots.
Tightly fitted, protective
pants that allowed for freedom of movement, and high-topped leather boots for
quick maneuvering and protection.

A robe would tangle too easily
in a man’s blade.

It was obvious to him now,
since he’d actually been in battle himself, that the robes and sandals his
people wore were a part of their nonviolent tradition. By dressing in a manner
of scholars, not warriors, they made a physical display of the type of men they
were.

Alton looked down his long
legs at the blue jeans he now found so comfortable and practical, at the sturdy
western-style boots covering his feet, and he felt like a warrior. His plain
black cotton T-shirt made an informal statement as well. He had taken on the
trappings of a warrior. He no longer wore the garb of a Lemurian scholar.

He was not the same man who
had left Lemuria like a common criminal less than two short weeks ago.

The door behind the dais
opened. Alton raised his head proudly. He had no reason to bow before the
council. No reason to act in a subservient manner.

He was a warrior. He had
battled demons, and his sword spoke to him. With those thoughts in mind, Alton
held his head high and smiled grimly as the nine members of the council entered
the room. And when his father glowered at him, Alton merely dipped his chin in
a show of respect.

Nothing
more.
He would not prostrate himself before these men. He had no reason
to feel shame. What he’d done when he freed Dax and Eddy, Willow, and Bumper
was right. It was done for the good of Lemuria. He stood proudly behind his
decision.

Just as Ginny now stood behind
him. He didn’t need to turn around to know she was there, to know that she
carried HellFire for him. He sensed Ginny, sensed her dismay that he was
standing here in chains, but he heard the sword!

HellFire was in his mind, as
was Taron. He wished he shared that telepathic connection with Ginny, but even
without it, he knew she stood proudly behind him, supporting him. He felt her
confidence and it lifted him.
Gave him even more courage than
he’d had mere moments ago.

Gave him the courage to stand
tall and stare directly at each member of the powerful Council of Nine as they
sat in judgment of his supposed transgressions.

His father stood. As the
ruling chancellor, it was his place to pronounce sentence, but that should come
only after a trial. In the past, Alton might have lowered his eyes beneath his
father’s critical gaze. Now he looked directly into his narrowed eyes and saw
the man who had raised him.

Saw how much he had aged. Had
Alton’s actions brought about this change? If so, he regretted only his
father’s reaction, not the choice he had made to free prisoners unjustly held.

Chancellor Artigos stared
directly into Alton’s eyes, as if daring him to look away. Alton held his
father’s glare and returned it without rancor. Calmly he stood with his feet
apart as far as the chains would allow, his hands bound behind his back with a
chain that linked his wrists and stretched down to the one holding his ankles
together.

Alton’s father cleared his
throat. Then he looked away. Startled, Alton realized the father was the one
unable to meet the son’s eyes.

“Before the proceedings
begin,” Artigos said, “I wish to make a declaration.” He nodded to a scribe who
sat to one side of the dais.
“Strike Alton’s name from the
Artigos line.
He has brought shame to our family. He is no longer my
son.”

Ginny’s soft gasp and Taron’s
shock vibrated through Alton. He refused to react to his father’s bald
pronouncement, even as his heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never imagined
his father taking such a terrible step. Never imagined it, but realized it made
no difference to the choices he’d made. The choices he would continue to make.

Alton stared at his
father—with nothing more than his will he forced the older man to look his way.
Artigos had already turned to walk back to his seat at the center of the Nine,
but he paused and stared back toward his son.

Alton raised his head as he
spoke. “I imagine, Chancellor
Artigos, that
it is much
easier to condemn a man who is not of your line. What you don’t seem to realize
is that it makes it that much easier for me to defy your unjust ruling. We are
at war, Chancellor. Your denial of that war will not make it go away. Your
refusal to accept my actions does not make them wrong. I have met demons in
battle and they are a fierce and deadly threat. A threat to all of Lemuria, to
all of the inhabitants of all the worlds connected through the dimensional
gates.
Denying that threat doesn’t make it any less dangerous
to our tightly linked societies.”

“Guards?
I would have you remove this man from our presence.”

Maybe this
was
a time for theatrics, after all.

Before the soldiers at either
side of him could react, Alton spun about and shouted, “HellFire!”

As if she’d read his mind,
Ginny had already released the sword from the scabbard. She tossed it into the
air. Alton turned his back and stretched his hands away from his body as best
he could. The sword spun overhead, glowing with white fire as it twisted in
midair, appeared to pause a moment, and then dove straight for Alton’s back.

Screams and gasps of surprise
filled the huge cavern. The crowd surged back, away from the dais. The guards
stumbled over themselves, scrambling to get out of the way. Alton stretched the
chains tight. HellFire flew true and the blade cut through the links as if
slicing through butter.

Then it hovered in the air,
defying gravity, awaiting Alton’s hand.

Spinning around, Alton grabbed
the sword with both hands, slashed through the chains holding his ankles, and
spun once again in a perfect pirouette that put him between Taron and Ginny
with the glowing sword clasped over his head.

He held the sword high and the
light that burst forth from the crystal blade was blinding. The senators
scrambled for safety, hiding ingloriously behind their chairs and beneath the
long table. The guards had formed a loose circle between Alton and the dais,
but it was obvious they were in awe of the glowing sword and unwilling to mount
an attack.

After a moment, Alton lowered
the sword, though the blade still shimmered with its own inner fire. Holding it
firmly in his right hand, he reached out for Ginny. She slipped her hand into
his, and with Ginny on his left and Taron walking beside him on the right,
Alton led them up the nine steps to the dais.