The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (48 page)

“The Elders have conferred, and we support a nomination to be confirmed by the people. We believe it is time for a Prince to be chosen.”

Crane turned to Autmaran.

“You have the floor.”

“I nominate Raven, son of Relkin, last of the line of Aemon,” Autmaran said without preamble.

There was more stir among the Kindred here, but not much. They were expecting this.

“Very well,” Crane said. “Is there anyone that wishes to speak in opposition?”

“I do!” Henri Perci called out, striding forward. He was clad in his full battle armor, dyed with gold highlights to match the color of former Elder Warryn, his sponsor, his long hair tied back behind his head and shining like spun gold.

“You have the floor,” Crane said.

“Then I will use it,” Perci said, turning to the Kindred, “to tell you a tale about a man who fought against Tyranny. I will tell you the tale of Goldwyn.”

The Kindred watched silently, with haunted eyes.

“William Goldwyn was born one of the Kindred,” Perci said. “He grew up here among us, the son of a family that goes back to the founding of our nation. He was the best and the brightest of his age, and everyone knew it. He was loved by all, and he loved them all in return.”

“But then came the first invasion of the Ox Lord. The land was darkened by the tide of the Imperial army, and our bravest soldiers knew fear. The illusions that had kept us safe were strong, but they did not stop him. He drove his army on, not caring that thousands died each day in gibbering madness. He burnt what land he could find, and killed all who stood in his path.”

“But one man alone knew no fear, and stepped forward to lead us. He sent out the call for arms, knowing we had to stop the Ox Lord before he pushed so hard he passed the illusions. We had to surround him, we had to fight, even though his force outnumbered us ten to one. We had no chance – we all knew it – but not Goldwyn. Goldwyn believed in us, and through that belief saved us, turning the Empire’s weakness against them. He knew these lands, loved these lands, and fought with his life to defend them. We named him Prince then, knowing that his cause was hopeless, but praying in our desperation that he would manage to drive them back, even if it meant sacrificing his life and the lives of an entire generation in order to do so.”

“And beat them back he did. He returned to the Kindred with barely a quarter of his men, having sent the enemy army reeling back through the Pass. He beat the Ox Lord with brilliance, and a genius that was unmatched. He was the definition of a Prince, the highest kind of man we have ever known.”

He whirled and pointed to Raven.

“And this
thing
wishes to make himself his equal.”

There was a stir here among the Kindred, like a restless wind.

“This man, who is one of the Seven Children! This
spawn
of the Tyrant! He comes from the same blood that has caused us to cower in fear for centuries. He and his family are the reason that Goldwyn was murdered! It was
his brother
that held the knife! We cannot trust him
living
with us, much less leading us!”

The Kindred were beginning to shoot Raven ugly looks. This wasn’t looking good – if Perci kept going the whole thing would be pointless. Raven had to do something, had to try to say something, anything.

“I would say something,” Raven said, stepping forward, trying to draw attention away from Perci. But his voice was soft and hesitant compared to the booming roar of the young lieutenant general, and Perci rode right over him.

“Again we hear from this
Prince of Ravens!
No doubt he wishes to tell us that he saved our lives, that we owe him fealty! I stand to say that we are a free people, and that we owe him
nothing
! We, the Kindred, fought for this our land, and bled the rivers red with tears and blood! Where was the Prince of Ravens then? We, the Kindred, stood with might and strength, willing to die against the Empire. Where was the Prince of Ravens then? We, the Kindred, have defied the Tyrant for a thousand years, and in her eye spat words of hope and joy, hard hearts full of freedom and defiance. Where was the Prince of Ravens then, her loyal son? BOWING AT HER FEET!”

The Kindred roared, a sound so loud it shook the very stones of the Odeon.

“And now he comes, great Prince, to save us all.”

Perci turned and pointed a single finger, dagger-like at the Prince.

“I say he is as bad as the Tyrant herself.”

The Kindred roared again, the sound swelling, and Raven realized that he might not have to worry about his brothers and sisters anymore. He would be lucky to leave this arena alive.

“We have heard the objections!” Crane called out, his voice cutting through the din despite its thin tremility.

“And now, we will hear from the man who seeks the office himself.”

Raven stepped forward, his mind blank. What could he say to them? How could he convince them that he was the man they needed?

Are
you the man they need? You don’t even know who you are. You’re the cast-off son of a Tyrant to them. You’re nothing.

The voice was savage and full of vitriol, and he knew such thoughts were poison. But he could not help but think it right, could not help but drink the draught it offered him. He was no one, and nothing. Not even Goldwyn could have convinced him otherwise.

Goldwyn…

People do not follow plans. They do not follow speeches. People follow dreams.

Raven stepped forward before the courage could leave him, and spoke, loud and clear:

“I am not one of you, that has been made abundantly clear.”

Silence fell as the Kindred heard him speak. Slowly, they began to take their seats again, watching him with suspicion and hate. But as Raven looked at them, looked around at the thousands of faces, he saw that beneath that anger was fear. Desperation had taken root when hope had fled, blinding them, turning them on him like wounded creatures who only sought release.

“It is true that I, Raven, son of Relkin, am not one of you. But Goldwyn was. And he believed in something.”

There was a stir in the crowd at Goldwyn’s name, but no one spoke; it seemed that the power of the ritual was too great and they were trying to contain their emotions. Raven took a deep breath and continued.

“It is true that I, Raven, son of Relkin, last of Aemon’s line, am not one of you. But Goldwyn’s son and daughter are, and they stand here with me.”

Leah and Davydd, taking their cues, stood then and came to flank him. The crowd grew quieter; they were suddenly confused, uncertain.

“It is true that I, Raven, son of Relkin, last of Aemon’s line, and bearer of the Raven Talisman, am not one of you. But I believe as Elder Goldwyn did, and so I stand before you all, with anger and fear in my heart.”

A few Kindred made noises of incredulity, but Raven ignored them and continued on.

“For who could see his body, lying here only a night ago, and not feel anger? Who here could see those wicked wounds, carved into his sides by a sick dagger and not feel rage rise up, unbidden, to take root in a loving heart? Who among you can cry but for revenge when you see the body of the man who kept you safe for years, and devoted his life to the protection of your families?”

Silence rang through the Odeon now, and many faces were blank, not knowing what to think, captivated by his words. Raven continued, taking a step forward, setting himself in the center of the stage, alone, and visible to all, standing where Goldwyn’s body had burned just hours before.

“I know I am not such a one. Goldwyn was more of a father to me than any man I have ever known. He was a greater man than any Prince could ever be, not because of power and privilege, not through Tyranny or Talisman, but with wisdom and simple courage.

“I know that I, Raven, son of Relkin, last of Aemon’s line, am not one of you. But I weep for this man’s death, for I know death as no one ever shall. I, the Cursed Son of the Empress, know what it is for a life to end, and this man should have gone on living long into the hereafter. This man, who was worth all six of my brothers and sisters and half the Empire beside, should have lived to see his own children grow old! He should have lived to see the world become the vision he dared to dream!”

The Prince felt his eyes sting, and realized his cheeks were wet. Looking out into the gathered Kindred crowd, he saw that his grief was mirrored there. And still the words continued to pour out of him, his heart heavy, and his throat aching.

“And who among you does not feel fear that the Empire can strike this deeply into the heart of the Kindred? I know I do. For while I, Raven, son of Relkin, last of the line of Aemon, am not one of you, I do
live
among you, and was given shelter by Tomaz Banier, a man you all know well.”

Tomaz stepped forward then between Leah and Davydd, his huge, towering presence lending Raven strength.

“I have no land in the Empire, and I have no fortune there. I have only what I have found here, in Exile. And I, for one, feel sickly dread and black despair that Goldwyn, the greatest of us all, lies dead, while I must go on living. I, Raven, feel fear. But as I remember the look of his body as I found it on the Capitol floor, the sound of his final words ringing in my ears, I feel something more. I feel
hatred
.”

The word grated through his throat, coming out in a rasping gasp of breath that echoed around the Odeon floor, slicing through the deadly quiet.

Henri Perci suddenly stepped forward, trying to draw the crowd away.

“Whatever he may feel, his Imperial blood blinds him!”

“
GOLDWYN’S
BLOOD
BLINDS ME!”

And suddenly it was true – Raven’s vision had gone red, and he felt as though a ball of fire had formed in the pit of his stomach, burning him from the inside, making him sick, pushing him onward. He stepped in front of Perci, turning his back on the man.

“I, Raven, son of Relkin and the Empress, last of Aemon’s line, was cast out of the Empire on a
whim!
I was cast out and Exiled, forced to flee across the land I loved, because the Empress decided it was my time to die. My
brothers
and
sisters
, my
blood,
the Children, tried to kill me. Death Watchmen were sent for my head, Bloodmages conjured their Daemons, and the Seekers laid traps in their black and hidden lairs. But I survived, and I came to you. And when I, Raven, son of Relkin, stood on the front lines at Aemon’s Stand as the Ox Lord himself came to burn the Kindred, destruction and doom riding on his shoulders like the ghosts of our father’s sins, I shouted defiance as you all did!”

Lorna and Autmaran rose at the mention of the Stand, and joined the others behind him.

“And who here would do any less? Even if no life rested on your actions but your own, who here would have laid down their arms and gone meekly into the night? Not I. I, the Exiled Prince, came here to fight for myself – for the dream that one day I could live free. And when Goldwyn spoke, when he told me of the dream he had, I knew that it was the same as mine. Who here has a story that is different? Who here remembers his body, broken and cast down, and does not think that they would give their very lives to bring this man, the best of us all, back again? Who here has not known pain, and suffering, and loss because of the Empire? Who here has not found a better life among the Kindred, and wished beyond all other things that their past sins might be forgiven? Who here does not now bear the name of Exile with stubborn pride and rebellious hope? I know I do. I have no path forward, no foresight to grant me strength, but I have the hope that as I stand here, alive and strong, I may tomorrow stand as well.”