The Thoughtmaster's Conduit
Kerry Orchard
e-book, 9/2001
EXCERPT:
Book I
Tribunal
Veracious as a predator,
Evil,
careens through time,v
and chaos rides its velvet black wings,
Demons to hand.
Know your brother's name in misery,
whose calling is death,
and hold his blame in your heart,
that's two shared,
you, who are blameless.
ONE
Soulstealer, floating gracefully, circled the writhing combatants who battled beneath him. Dropping to the ground in a crouch, he slunk along the earth, his wraithlike form barely discernible to any but the most accurate eye. Responding to his presence, both aggressor and victim alike, stopped moving, lying still as the cold chill of death shivered up their spines. The wraith's countenance twisted in disgust; he moved away to await the outcome. Someone would die.
"Pig!" The hoarse shout brought its recipient to his feet.
He grinned affably. "She doesn't mind, do you Ahlisha?' The girl moaned then began to sob behind him.
Rhan's friend Taoe had come up behind him, his own eyes blazing with anger. "I'll hold him for you, Rhan." Suddenly sober, the chillness of his voice startled even himself.
Rhan, looking down on her bloodied thighs, felt a heated rage cover his eyes with it's feverish mist. He charged his brother like an enraged bull, wanting only to beat the smirk from his smug face. Now his own brother lay at his feet, no more than a broken, bloodied pulp. He felt rather than saw his sword arc toward his brother's vulnerable chest; its cruel point driving home the last of his anger. Taoe's protests only a background irritant.
TWO
Rhan awoke with a startled shout, then laughed nervously. It was only a dream: a dream. In relief, he raised large hands to run them through his thick, braided hair, but heavy chains tugged at his wrists. He cried out miserably at the anguish of his reality.
****
"Murder is always wrong," with those solemn words, Feona, senior member of the Council of Elders, concluded her speech to the two men before her. The anguish in her dark eyes overshadowed the starch of her words. Silence, her only answer, swelled around them, and she shivered as it tickled her ears, prickling the hair on her neck.
Family; peers of the men awaiting the council's judgement, sat tensely, clinging to that silence like a shield, while the members of the Tribunal began to speak quietly among themselves. Feona straightened her thin shoulders, patted her straggly grey hair, cleared her throat, and began anew.
"Rhan of Waterside," the Elder halted her tongue, eyes boring into Rhan's own piercing mis-matched gaze, as she studied him for any sign of wavering or weakness. She found she preferred the humanity of the pale blue orb to that of the glinting silver. Her gaze drifted over his slim, roughly chiselled nose and instinctively drew down toward the tight, thin lips which stretched into a grimace of shame. The well-shaped chin was covered by a thick beard shaved up the centre to display the deep cleft of the Da'liesh sorcerer. It jutted out proudly despite his disgrace and humiliation. He met her scrutiny with a convincing strength shadowed only by the weight of his grief. Thick brown braids guarded his head like warriors. Tightening her own lips, her resolve strengthened, Feona continued, ignoring the powerful blue tattoos that scrolled down the face and body of the one that faced her. One, she should admire-fear. "Do you, Rhan, understand the nature of the charges that lay against you. Charges to which you have plead guilty," her eyes met his once more, and he felt the fleeting caress of her compassion, "and yet still refuse council?"
"Yes, Elder," his voice came out deep and strong, echoing throughout the chamber, "to both." The room suddenly flooded with the hushed admonishments of the watchers, then silenced when the Elder's voice rose above them.
"And you accept any punishment we should so choose to offer?"
"Yes, Elder, I do."
"And Taoe of Waterside," the Elder turned her wizened head toward the second man. Staring deeply into his naive, childlike eyes, she found pity nearly stopped her tongue, "You also understand the nature of the charge and accept responsibility as well as punishment, yet still refuse council?"
"Yes, Grandmother," Taoe quietly offered the title in respect of the elderly wisewoman, the eldest among the women whose ages spanned the decades, though all began their tribunal duties at sixty.
The frail woman, whose face resembled a shrunken, shrivelled, unpeeled apple, shook her head sorrowfully. "It saddens me to do this, though our sadness has brought leniency to the punishment." She paused, nervously clearing her throat in a room so still that even the slightest sound resounded like thunder.
"Rhan, for the murder of your elder, half brother, Etan of Waterside," the Da'liesh shut his eyes and held his breath as a vivid image of his brother's bloodied body crept stealthily through his mind, "also Home Elder to your village, I sentence you to one full year in the salt mines. If, you survive, if," she muttered lowly, "you will be free at that time. The extenuating circumstances of this sorrowful event have swayed our hand. We see the guilt and grief in you, a punishment in itself, though the law demands more. We know that you killed only to prevent the...," She swallowed distastefully, uttering a prayer for strength, composure, "rape of the young Tangmere woman, Ahlisha, and that you did not use your power. Also, we acknowledge your mind was addled with drink. We took all this into consideration when we passed our judgement. Do you still understand and accept the punishment of this Tribunal, and myself, Feona, at its head?"
"I do, Grandmother. Thank you for your kindness."
The woman looked up sharply, surprised, "You will find it no kindness when you arrive."
She turned back to the other man, so unlike the friend he had aided and stood by. Of medium height, Taoe came only to the shoulder of his friend, Rhan. The warrior stood as tall in pride, however, but the belly straining against his tunic was more than visible, the dirty blonde hair braided but thin, and the thick beard covered a small, rounded chin completely. Close set green eyes that sparkled with fear but also resignation, surveyed the scene before him. A stubby nose twitched above meaty lips surrounded by the lines that can only come from laughter. Easy going and loyal, Taoe had never expected to end up before the Tribunal for anything more than being drunk and disorderly.
"And Taoe, for aiding Rhan, your punishment will be one year's time in the gem mines. This Tribunal thinks it best you two are separated." Taoe grimaced but did not speak. "Do you also accept and understand the judgement and punishment of the Tribunal?"
"I do, Elder," this voice, softer, less assured, did not reach far into the ears of those who watched. "My thanks also," he spoke louder, then muttered, "though I'd do it again."
"What was that," the piercing, emerald eyes of another, younger, wisewoman stabbed him.
"Nothing, Elder, a simple prayer of thanks to the Elementals," he answered in explanation, attempting to spread chained arms in a show of innocence. The shrewd eyes that held his remained unbelieving but not mocking.
After the first out-rush, dismay had kept those in the audience quiet until the Elder Fiona spoke her final words. "Rhan, it is felt that because you are Da'liesh, though, thank the Elementals, you did not use your power to kill, your left arm will be chained behind your back at all times. This is to prevent you from resorting to sorcery if you feel the need, and you may well," she finished truthfully. "We, the council, who represent the people of Ourshare of the allover Dlrow, decree this Tribunal closed."
The cruelty of the last punishment pushed the audience into chaos, and sound exploded around them. Cries erupted from Rhan's mother. Shouts came from his father and the peers of both. The cry taken up by the audience was a simple, truthful one: it was done in defence. They shouted uselessly, hurled insults as the Elders rose stolidly and left the chamber, deaf to the pleas that followed them.
A guard moved forward to brand the hands of the two prisoners with the broken circular mark of the criminal, taking them into custody. Head slung low, arm chained behind him, Rhan was led away unheeding of the cries of his father who had to be removed by two armed guards. The guards, fearing a rebellion, skilfully escorted the audience from the premises.
Standing alone by the doors that led from the Tribunal chambers to Eldercity beyond, a young woman, with skin the colour of molten silver, lifted a small hand in farewell. Raising defiant, brilliant yellow eyes, she watched the Elders leave with a mounting bitterness. With a toss of her long, kinky, black hair and a pucker of full soft lips that tugged at a shapely nose, she turned on her heel and disappeared out the door. Ignoring her father's cry, she ran blindly into the city streets, vowing that someday she would make this right. Someday she would help Rhan, and all would remember him for the good he is and had done. He had saved her life.
"Ahlisha...." Her mother's wail followed her into the street.
From The Thoughtmaster's Conduit, copyright © Kerry Orchard, 2001. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of the author
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