3

“It’s all my fault. If I had gone alone, if I had planned all this alone I would have succeeded.”

Llod drew in the fluid running down his nose in one long sniff. Wiping his grimy wrist under his nose he cast Mare an accusing glare, “Yes it is all your fault.”

They sat in darkness bound in chains on the cold dungeon floor.

“If I had been more careful. I should have snuck in better.”

“If you had not involved me in this I would have a small sack of roasted nuts in my hands now, dancing around a fire celebrating with everyone else.” Llod could almost taste the nuts he spoke of. He sniffed again and wiped his eyes, smearing the grim from the dirty floor on his dark cheeks.

“You are right, Llod,” Mare said without a hint of her usual fire. She was not defeated because she did not have the king’s head, she was defeated because the sounds of Llod’s cries as the guards beat them mercilessly still rang out in her ears. Her back hurt from the beatings, and Veren’s eyes were swollen but it was Llod who had cried the most.

“It is not your fault,” Veren suddenly spoke up after a long moment of silence.

Mare looked up at him from her place beside the metal grate of their cell. She couldn’t see his face well because the cell was so dark it was hard to tell what time of the day it was. They had been in there for a long time but without the light to judge how long she could only guess it was now the second day of the celebration. Or maybe the fourth.

The cell reeked of fear, human waste, sweat, hunger, and death. It wasn’t a smell that was foreign to them since the small portion of Arlankis that the Baryns had been given was such as this. The only difference was that now they like the other prisoners here were bound in chains.

She heard Veren draw his leg in. The chain linked with the iron manacle around his ankles dragged with a sharp sound on the floor.

“We could have refused to help but of our own free will we joined you so we are as much to blame as you are.”

“I am not to blame!” Llod shouted. “I only joined because…”

“Mare decided to kill the king,” Veren completed his sentence in his usual deep, calm voice. He smiled sadly in Llod’s direction. He looked so much like a small child with his body huddled in defeat. In a way he was a child, he was the only one among them whose mother had only died recently and she moved mountains to treat him like he was a fragile vase. Even though they were all of the same age, Llod viewed Mare as a sister figure, or maybe as a replacement for his mother because she was bold and brave. “You will do anything Mare does, would you not?”

He eyed Veren with fear and distaste. “Not die!” he sniffed again. “What about you? You could have chosen to go back but you agreed with her plan too.”

Mare wasn’t sure but it seemed at that moment that Veren was staring at her. It made the hair at the back of her neck rise. In truth, Veren had always been a mystery to her. She never could understand how he stayed calm and collected in the face of danger and if any of her wild plans brought them doom he never blamed her. He also always seemed to shadow her and Llod most uncannily. Even though like Llod, he was her best friend, there was a lot about him that unsettled her.

“Veren?” she prodded when she continued to feel his gaze on her.

“Because I believe that soon we will find our victory,” he simply responded.

Mare snorted. “The only victory to be had is the one of the grave over us. I give up. There is no victory. No prophecy of freedom. Many before us have attempted and failed, what makes us different?”

Before he could respond the great dungeon door was thrown open and the sound of booted feet thudded in the damp, stone prison.

All around, in different cells came the groans and cries of the prisoners, each hoping they were about to be set free while also fearing that the soldiers were there to pass sentence on them.

Mare craned her neck to see and her heart dropped to her belly when the soldiers came to a stop in front of their cell. Their uniforms were as imposing as the looks on their faces. The soldier who stood in front brought out the heavy key for their cell and unlocked the door, throwing it open so hard that the metal caught Mare’s knuckles before she could draw her hand away.

The other soldiers entered to unlock the metal bands around their ankles and wrists.

“Rise, the king will see you now.”

All three of them rose on shaky legs, stumbling as the guards pushed them roughly on the cold stone floor. They left the cold, damp space of the dungeon and welcomed the summer sun on their flesh as they reached outside. The sky was blue, the sun beautiful and the air here was clean.

Before either of them could take deep breaths to cleanse their lungs the soldiers pushed them forward again, leading them along the stone floors to the inner bailey, to a large section where the Vallezarii held a celebration of his own. Here were the members of his court including their children, his advisors, army commanders, and knights of notable positions and lands in Arlankis.

It was clearly a feast with no expenses reserved. The king’s court and advisors consisted of six houses; House Milelot from which came the king’s strongest and most trusted soldier, Dymas, who at just age 30 had many victories below his belt including fighting alongside Vallezarii to subdue his opponents in his quest for the throne. House Gyras from which the king’s trusted adviser Yner came. House Mon, House Tyras, House Phynally, and House Angrip from which Polen came. House Angrip, once Baryn, had exposed a plot of the Baryns to escape Vallezarii’s tyranny and for their part in preventing that from happening Vallezarii had elevated members of Angrip family to Sefers status and made their family head, Anlon Angrip a member of his court.

Among these notable men were their family members and servants who moved among them to serve.

A high table had been set up for the king so that he was seated at least 4 feet above the others with his court members flanking him on each side. Their family members however were seated around tables arranged below the steps. Musicians stood in a corner playing their strings and beating drums made from animal skin while the people ate, drank, and danced. Soldiers guarded the corners of the ground.

Mare, Veren and Llod were pushed to the center of the merriment, and at their entry, Vallezarii paused in the process of taking another gulp of his wine. He raised his hand to silence the musicians and silence reigned in the inner bailey.

Outside the king's walls, however, the merriment and drumming continued.

“Open the gates and let those worms watch me pass judgment on their kind,” Vallezarii ordered.

As Mare, Veren and Llod were pushed to their knees, the castle gates groaned open and the merriment outside the castle stopped as everyone turned knowing what to expect. Among the celebrating crowds were Arlankis and Baryns alike.

Mare bowed her head feeling the eyes of everyone there in her back. If the king extended his punishment to the other Baryns it would be her fault. She clenched her teeth and prayed that whatever punishment he saw fit for her and her companions he would restrain from extending to the other people. Her people.

He stood from his throne and his voice rang clear and cruel as he spoke. “These three are guilty of treason,” he bellowed. “And the punishment for treason is death.”