Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

Niryn gently tended that deep-buried hurt. Korin didn’t suspect a thing, only felt his heart harden as he tossed the braids aside and gritted out, “Yes, you’re right, of course.”

Niryn was pleased.

It was evening when the door swung open again, and Niryn himself stood there, gloating. “You’re to be brought before Korin for judgment. Come now, or would you prefer to be dragged, as you deserve?”

“Be brave,” murmured Caliel as he rose unsteadily to his feet. Lutha and Barieus were already up. No matter what anyone said, they were Royal Companions; they cowered for no man, not even the king.

They stepped from the cell to find a tribunal waiting for them in the courtyard. The garrison was formed up in a hollow square around the yard, and Korin stood on the far side, flanked by Porion and his chief generals.

Their guards marched them to the center of the square. Niryn went to stand at Korin’s right hand, among the generals and nobles.

Lutha glanced around, searching faces. Many simply glared back at him, but a few could not meet his eye.

Korin was dressed in full armor and held the Sword of Ghërilain unsheathed before him.

Porion spoke the charges. “Lord Caliel, you stand accused of desertion and treason. You were expressly forbidden to go to the usurper prince, yet you stole away like a thief in the night to join his camp. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What can I say, Korin, if you’re too blind to see the truth for yourself?” Caliel replied, lifting his chin proudly. “If you think I deserted you, then you never knew my heart as I thought you did. There’s nothing I can say now to change that.”

“Then you admit you were making for Prince Tobin’s army?” Niryn demanded.

“Yes,” Caliel replied, still speaking to Korin, and Korin alone. “And you know why.”

Lutha saw Korin’s hand tighten around the hilt of his sword. His eyes went flat and dead as he proclaimed, “Disloyalty against one’s lord is the greatest crime for a warrior at any time, but in these dire days, when I expect those closest to me to set an example, it is all the more unforgivable. Caliel and Lutha, you have both questioned my will since we left Ero. I have shown forbearance, hoping you would mend your ways and be the loyal Companions I have known. Instead, you have fomented unrest and doubt among others—”

“What others?” Lutha demanded. “We were worried for you, because—”

A crushing force closed around his heart and throat, choking off his protest. No one else seemed to notice, but once again he found Niryn watching him with amusement. This was magic! Why couldn’t anyone see what he was doing? He swallowed hard, wanting to denounce the man, but the more he tried to force the words out, the harder the pain closed around his throat. He fell to his knees and clutched his chest.

Korin mistook his distress. “Stand up! Shame your manhood no more than you already have.”

It was hopeless. Niryn knew what Lutha wanted to say and was stopping the words in his throat. Staggering to his feet again, he croaked, “Barieus knew nothing of this. He’s guilty of nothing.”

Beside him, Barieus threw back his shoulders and said loudly, “I am Lord Lutha’s squire and follow him in all things. If he is guilty, then so am I. I am ready to share any punishment.”

“And so you shall,” said Korin. “For the crime of disloyalty, you shall first be flogged before this company. Twenty lashes of the cat for Lutha and his squire, and fifty for Caliel, for his greater crime. At dawn tomorrow you shall be hanged, as befits your false friendship and treachery.”

Lutha kept his head high, but he felt like a horse had kicked him in the belly. Despite his harsh words in the cell, he hadn’t really believed Korin would go so far. Even Alben looked shocked, and Urmanis had gone pale.

“All of them hanged?” asked Master Porion, his tone carefully guarded. “Lutha and Barieus, as well?”

“Silence! The king has spoken,” Niryn snapped, fixing the old swordsman with a sharp look. “Would you challenge His Majesty’s wisdom, as well?”

Porion flushed angrily, but bowed to Korin and said nothing more.

“If Master Porion won’t speak, then I will!” Caliel cried angrily. “Before these witnesses, I say that you are unjust. Hang me if you must, but in your heart, you know I was acting on your behalf. You say you are punishing treachery, but I say you are rewarding it.” He cast a scornful look at the wizard. “If you hang these two boys, who have done nothing but serve you loyally, then let this company witness your justice and see it for the evil it is! You have forgotten who your true friends are,” he finished angrily, “but even if you kill me, I will not stop being yours.”

For just a moment Lutha thought Korin might relent. A hint of pain crossed his face, but only for an instant.

“Let the lesser infractions be punished first,” he ordered. “Companions, see to your duty.”

Alben and Urmanis avoided his eyes as they stepped forward and roughly stripped off Lutha’s shirt. Garol and Mago took charge of Barieus and did the same.

A feeling of unreality settled over him as they were led back toward the stone building that housed the cells. There, large iron rings were set high on the wall. Soldiers were already busy, fixing short lengths of rope through them.

Lutha held his head up and looked straight ahead, refusing to give any show of fear. From the corner of his eye, the massed ranks of silent warriors were nothing more than a dark, ominous blur.

He’d witnessed floggings enough to know that twenty lashes was a serious sentence, but the threat of it paled beside the proof that all their years of loyalty and friendship meant nothing to Korin. Not if they could be wiped away so brutally, on nothing more than the word of a wizard.

The other Companions strung them up, binding their hands to the rings with their faces pressed to the rough wall. The rings were so high that Lutha’s feet scarcely touched the ground. It felt like his arms were being pulled from their sockets.

He turned his head, looking at Barieus. He had his lips pressed grimly together, but his eyes were wide with fear.

“Courage,” Lutha whispered. “Don’t let them hear you cry out. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

He heard movement behind him, and what sounded like a collective intake of breath. A burly, shirtless man with a cloth mask obscuring his face stepped close and showed them the knotted cat they would be punished with. A dozen or more long lengths of cord were fixed to a long wooden handle.

Lutha nodded and looked away. Gripping the iron ring, he braced for the first blow.

It was worse than he could have imagined. Nothing he’d experienced on the practice field or in combat compared to that first brutal stripe. It stole the breath from his lungs and burned like fire. He felt a trickle of blood under his shoulder blade, tracking down his side like a falling tear.

Barieus took the next stroke and Lutha heard his strangled grunt of pain.

The man wielding the cat was well versed in the art. He carefully distributed the stripes, marking them evenly down both sides of their backs and crosshatching the welts, so that every new strike hit already torn skin to cause more pain.

Lutha managed the first few well enough, but by the time the first ten had been meted out he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Barieus cried out at each stroke now, but to the boy’s credit, he was not weeping or begging. Blood blossomed bright and metallic across Lutha’s tongue as he bit his lip and forced himself to silently count down the last few strokes.

When it was over at last, someone cut the rope securing his hands to the ring, leaving his wrists bound together. Lutha’s legs betrayed him and he ended up in a trembling heap in the dirt. Barieus collapsed, too, but was up almost at once. He bent down, holding his bound hands out to Lutha. His face was streaked with tears and blood was running down his sides, but his voice was steady as he said, loud enough for all to hear, “Let me help you up, my lord.”