The King of Anavrea (Book Two of the Theodoric Saga) (20 page)

Heads craned to find the man.

“East tower.” Aarint pointed.

The orange-red light of a torch looked like a
small peephole against the black velvet of the night that hid the
bearer. However, a moment later the flames blossomed into a flaming
backdrop, outlining the figure of a man.

“Who is it?”

“We are only missing two councilors.” Ireic
peered at the figure perched triumphantly on the tower’s parapet
waving his torch aloft. “Councilor Kline?”

“The other option is Councilor Regintin.”

The distant figure yelled something aloud and
then fell out of sight. Ireic closed his eyes and turned away from
the scene. He felt sick despite there being nothing he could have
done.

“What do we do now?” Aarint asked.

“Give those we have justice and continue to
search for Regintin.”

The dawning reality that Regintin likely was the
man who had threatened Lirth lay heavily at the back of Ireic’s
mind. He didn’t mention it to Aarint.

~~~~~~

Clang, clang, clang.
Lirth’s assailant’s
weapon struck the lattice next to her ear. The steady rhythm shook
her whole body and sang in her head. The throbbing in her head
pulsed randomly between blows. Then suddenly the striking stopped.
Or at least that was what her limbs said happened. They no longer
vibrated. However her ears continued to hear the harsh tone
marching onward.
Clang, clang, clang.
Her head ached.

“Had enough?”

The harsh voice was followed by a nasal laugh.
The man’s moldy breath washed over the left side of her face while
her ears continued to sound the tone. It still echoed through her
skull. Tightening her lips, Lirth resolved yet again to face this
man with silence. With the Kurios’ strength, she was not going to
give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. Somewhere in this
room, she knew Liam remained, bound and gagged. He still gave her
hope. He hadn’t been in her dream.

If it was her fate to die, she would die
bravely, a solid witness for the Kurios. If anything, Liam would
hopefully live to bring word back to Ireic.

The thought of Ireic brought a wash of sadness
so strong that it took all of her strength to not cry.

Thank you, Kurios,
she thought to the
Unseen One.
Whatever You have planned, thank You for giving me
these past few months with him. Thank You for letting me know his
love and that I love him in return. He is so precious to me,
Father. Keep him safe. Show him Your perfect gift so that I might
see him once again in paradise.

The thought of spending eternity without Ireic
tore at her heart, but she closed her eyes tightly against the
tears.
The Kurios knows best,
she reminded herself.

Suddenly a yell in her left ear and a stinging
slap across her face brought her head up. With a gasp, her eyes
flew open. “Falling asleep are you?” the voice asked. “Fall asleep,
Brat, and you might wake up dead.”

Her body screamed as he kicked her helpless
foot, bending it painfully backwards. With a bittersweet longing,
Lirth almost wished he would kill her and get it over with.

She clung to the truth. Death only meant she
would be with her Savior, the Kurios.

The thought was so appealing. To escape this
aching body, bruised and battered. The first thing she would set
her healed eyes on would be the beautiful face of her Kurios and
King.

“What makes you smile?” The weapon struck the
lattice and nicked her ear. “If I didn’t know better, I would think
you like being roughed up.”

Lirth carefully swallowed. She sensed the man
leaning in closer and turned her face away. He caught her chin
between hard, grimy-smelling fingers and wrenched it around so that
she faced him. She could feel his breath on her face and the stench
of it filled her nose. “So you like it.” His voice was laced with
cruel laughter.

“Sir?” The door opened with a bang.

“I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed!” Her
torturer roared, turning on the newcomer.

“I know, but there is news from the palace, sir.
New orders.” The man’s voice shook with fear. “You said you were to
be notified immediately when we heard anything.”

“Outside!” the man bellowed.

The door slammed and for the first time since
she woke, she was alone in the room with Liam. She prayed that he
still lived.

“Liam?” she asked, her voice rasped. Her throat
hurt and forming words made her parched, cracked lips stretch
painfully. “Make a sound if you hear me, please.”

Something overturned and rolled across the
floor. Turning her face toward the sound, she tried to control the
hope that rose in her chest.

“He is going to come back to kill me.” She knew
that the time was coming. Her dream would play out. “Ireic has
taken back the throne, and I am no longer of any use to the
council. This man is going to come back and kill me.” Even as the
words passed her lips, she shuddered. “Tell Ireic that I love him
and let Aarint know the same.”

A strange shuffling noise came from Liam’s
location followed by grunting. She couldn’t understand a word.
“Thank you for your service, Liam. You have been a steadfast friend
and defender. Thank you.”

Heavy footsteps approached the door. A muffled
conversation drifted in from beyond the wall. Lirth withdrew into
herself and sought the Kurios’ strength. A serene, peaceful wave of
warmth flowed over her as she closed her eyes. Dimly aware of the
outside door opening and thumping shut again, she tightened her
hold on the faith that had brought her through until now. She was
being tested, but God had seen her through every trial so far. He
would be no less faithful at the time of her death. She was ready.
Soon I shall see Your face.

Something struck her hard in the stomach,
forcing the air from her lungs in a harsh rush. A torrent of blows
followed, striking her head, ribs and legs. Lirth could not stop
the tears that slid down her cheeks. Then just as suddenly as they
had begun, they stopped.

“The time has come for us to part, Brat, but we
have some unfinished business. It is rare that I catch the same
hare twice.” The voice filled her ears, rasping and low. She
recognized the words. It was the voice of her dreams, yet this
wasn’t her dream. “My, you have grown in value, Brat. Queen now,
aren’t you?” He laughed. “What shall I ask for this time? A title
and lands for your return? A kingdom for your life?”

Something struck the lattice of metal close to
her head. Instinctively she turned away from the sound, but her
captor grabbed her hair and yanked brutally upward. A cry fell
unbidden from her lips as fresh tears of pain sprung to her
eyes.

“Have you nothing to say, something that I might
relay to your beloved husband? I shall say, ‘She was strong to the
last, my liege. She died with your name on her tongue.’”

Suddenly her hair fell free, but before she
could breathe in relief, the sound of a dagger being drawn made her
blood run icy cold.
Help me stay strong, Kurios.

“Ready yourself, Brat.” The man grabbed hold of
her chin and squeezed his fingers against the corners of her mouth,
forcing her cracked lips to open wide. “Hold still and I will make
a clean cut.”

A tip of cold steel touched her cheek. Taking a
shallow breath, she braced herself for the pain.

Something hit away the man’s hand and rebounded
off the lattice. The knife fell to the ground with a clatter. The
solid thud of a hard object connecting with something followed. Her
assailant pitched forward. His heavy bulk slumped against her and
then with a groan slid to the floor. There was a nasty crack.
Lirth’s stomach churned.

It took a moment for Liam to free himself. Once
he did, his first words were, “Are you well, my queen?”

Carefully, Lirth nodded. The adrenaline coursing
through her abruptly abated and her limbs shook. If she hadn’t been
bound to the lattice, she would have collapsed.
Thank you,
Kurios.

__________

“By what authority?” the former high councilor
demanded. Arrogant disdain dripped from his voice. Lousen’s watery
blue eyes, red rimmed from hiding in the smoke house, flashed with
hatred. “By what authority do you condemn me?”

Ireic purposefully did not meet the man’s gaze.
Instead, he skimmed a glance over his face before resting on the
controlled features of the armed man standing at the old man’s
side. Then Ireic returned his attention to the stack of parchment
before him on the rickety desk.

The piece on top was the death sentence. To his
right, a stack of unsigned documents contained many pages of the
same nature. The procession of faces seemed endless as the sun
slowly sank and disappeared beneath the window sills. Broken men,
hunched with shame, mad men babbling about nonsense, and one
tearful confession, he responded with mercy to each. Stripping them
of power, land, and title, he offered each the choice of banishment
for the rest of their life or work camp. Both completely cut them
off from family, support, or any chance at wealth and power
again.

But as Ireic lifted his eyes to meet the
maniacal gleam in the cold features of his last adversary, Ireic
knew he was not going to be able to do the same for this man. While
the others had a chance to gain sanity and wisdom in hard work,
Lousen would never be content. He would return revenge for Ireic’s
mercy. For the humiliation of having his power stripped from him,
this man would hunt Ireic and those he loved to the grave.

Ireic rose slowly to his full height. Then
turned a carefully composed face to meet the former councilor’s
defiant glare.

“I am King of Anavrea, sworn to defend and serve
her until death. I uphold her laws and statutes. By law, you have
committed high treason against the crown.”

The older man spat. “You are no king.” Lousen
laughed. “You are a weakling. You pander to the people when you
should be dictating. You listen when you should strike out. Your
father knew how to be strong, but you–” His lip curled in disgust.
“You are a coward.”

Up until now, Ireic had allowed a junior
official to read the charges against each prisoner, but this time
he did not. Without asking for the list, he began to recite them
from memory. After all, he had heard them almost ninety times in
the past few hours.

“You are charged with committing
insubordination, disobeying a direct order, convening the council
while the king was in residence, but not present. You are accused
of organizing an assassination attempt on the life of Queen Lirth
Yra Theodoric of Anavrea, inciting the people to riot by spreading
lies about Her Majesty the Queen. And finally, but not least,
seizing the throne through military action and setting up a
governing body contrary to the monarchy.”

Trahern had tried to talk Ireic into letting the
lawyers’ scribes come up with more charges, but Ireic had said no.
These were enough to serve his purpose and he didn’t need a
detailed list citing every violation.

“How do you answer these charges before the
court?” Ireic asked.

Lousen spat again. Spittle flecked the toes of
Ireic’s boots.

“She is a witch and worthy of death for
practicing her sorcery. A deformed wench of the streets.” The old
man leaned forward and leered at Ireic. “She deserved to be hung
for reaching above her station.”

“So, you are admitting to organizing an attempt
to kill her?” Ireic tried desperately to keep his voice level.

“What do you mean attempt?” Madness glimmered in
Lousen’s eyes. “She is dead. I sent the order long before you
arrived at the gates.” He howled in apparent delight. “You are too
late.” Suddenly doubling over with mirth and glee, Lousen laughed
hysterically.

Dismissing Lousen’s claim as madness, Ireic
straightened his shoulders and hardened his face. The man lied.

“By your own admission, you are guilty of these
crimes against the crown and country.”

The old man’s only reply was to raise a red face
and gasp for breath in wheezing gulps. Ireic tried to ignore the
acute agony in his chest right beneath his breast bone. He shoved
aside the reality that he couldn’t disprove Lousen’s words and
concentrated on his own speech. He just needed to get out these few
sentences and then he could give in to the tightening pain in his
ribs.

“Therefore, by the power vested in me as the
King of Anavrea, I sentence you to death. In one week’s time you
shall be marched out to a newly erected gallows, where you shall
hang from the neck until dead.”

Ireic’s hand shook as he signaled the guards to
lead Lousen out. Then turning away, he faced the wall. “Leave me,”
he ordered.

The junior official scampered after the guards.
Isack did not leave, but Ireic hadn’t expected he would. The
bodyguard remained at attention, motionless against the wall. The
doors closed with a resounding thud. Ireic wearily sank into the
chair behind the rickety desk and lowered his head into his
hands.

Please let it not be so, Kurios,
he
prayed desperately.
I love her. Please don’t take her from me. I
need her.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingertips against
his eyes, fighting against the pain, physical and emotional, that
tore at his body. Tears leaked out from beneath his eyelids.

“Ireic?” Trahern’s concerned voice broke through
the storm and beckoned for Ireic to respond. Lifting a head that
felt made of lead, Ireic looked up at his brother.

Trahern leaned over the table, one hand resting
on the pile of pardons and the other near the inkwell. Deep creases
broke up the tightness around his mouth and purple smudges of
fatigue ringed his eyes.