David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

The lions paced a circle around the whimpering prisoner, growing ever closer with each revolution. They were toying with the man, goading him into histrionics and madness. Finally, Gronk snapped. He shot to his feet, shouting obscenities as he attempted to dart through the gap between the two lions. Kayne seemed to tilt his head and smirk as Gronk leapt onto the smooth stone that served as the arena wall. The man’s hands could find no purchase, and he slid back down until his feet touched ground.

That was when Lilah charged, letting loose a throaty bellow as her gigantic paws kicked up dirt and dust. It took mere seconds for her to close the gap and leap onto Gronk’s back. Her claws raked down to the spine, opening four gaping maws that spat crimson blood. Then the lioness’s jaws closed around the man’s skull. She pulled him down, shook him twice, and then whipped her head to the side. Gronk Hordan tumbled through the air, landing in a heap, just inches from Kayne’s enormous feet.

“You have been judged,” whispered Soleh.

The man was not dead. He lifted his head as if lost in a dream. Blood poured from the incisions where Lilah’s teeth had pierced his face and neck. He swayed and rocked, swayed and rocked, moaning, unable to get to his feet. Kayne watched him for a moment before lashing out. His right paw raked across the prisoner’s chest, opening four gashes that mirrored the ones on his back. Gronk collapsed belly-up, his eyes staring at the ceiling. Lilah sauntered over to stand beside her brother, and the two lions exchanged a momentary glance before they began to feed. One of the guards standing on the platform doubled over as the prisoner’s screams filled the air. Coils of intestines slithered out of the man like so many eels, spraying all over the dirt-covered ground. The lions devoured Gronk where he lay, and his shrieks and wails slowly ebbed until all that could be heard was the smacking of the judges’ tongues as they lapped up every last ounce of blood.

“Leave me,” Soleh told Captain Gregorian, who ushered his two guards up the stairwell and out of the arena.

Kayne and Lilah were the only lions in all of Dezrel-and perhaps the only two that had ever existed. They’d been discovered on the doorstep of the Mori homestead sixty-seven years ago, on the day Soleh’s precious Vulfram was born. They were but cubs then, gifts from Karak, and Soleh’s family raised them as their own kin. The lions ate the food Soleh prepared for her family, slept in Vulfram’s room, and ran and played with him and the rest of the children, even when they grew so large that they dwarfed the girls. Soleh didn’t consider them pets; to her, they were another son and daughter. Unlike her flesh-and-blood children, however, Kayne and Lilah did not age. They simply grew larger with each passing year. Sometimes she wondered if they would grow to the size of horses.

It was Karak himself who had informed Soleh of their true reason for existence. Kayne and Lilah could sense a person’s faithfulness, could understand the depths of his or her beliefs and loyalty. When the Castle of the Lion was built, and the first king was named to assist in governing their burgeoning society, the lions were brought north to Veldaren to fulfill this purpose. If any accused wished to prove their loyalty to the one true god of the land, he or she could face the lions in the arena.

In all her years as Minister, of all the hundreds of men and women she had escorted down into the bowels of the castle, only one man had passed the test. He still bore the four wicked scars running across his face to prove it. That man was Malcolm Gregorian, who now served beside her as Captain of the Palace Guard. A man who, even when the lions bore down upon him, refused to show fear.

She stood there for a long while, listening to Kayne and Lilah finish their meal. When they were done and had returned to their lavish pens, she pushed back the lever. The two gates slowly lowered, the winches squealing as thick ropes rubbed against them.

“Do you not like watching your children fulfill their duties?” asked a commanding yet familiar voice from behind her.

Soleh whirled around, eyes frantically scanning the darkness behind the torches’ powerful glare. Her heart began to beat excitedly, and she feared she might faint.

“Of course not,” she replied, her voice high and innocent, like a child’s. “But I do so because it is my duty, just as it is theirs to punish the guilty.”

The torches before her extinguished-the first time they had gone dark in more than forty years-and a pair of glowing yellow eyes stared at her from the new darkness. The eyes came closer, and a colossal figure stepped into the light of the remaining torches on the far wall. He was a picture of beauty, with hair a deep shade of earthy brown, eyes rich with wisdom, and thick and powerful arms and legs. He towered over her, wearing an outfit of woven black and a silver breastplate embellished with his sigil, the roaring lion. Soleh dropped to her knees as he offered her his hand.

“Karak, my Divinity, my Lord, my Father,” she whispered. She began to weep.

“Stand, child,” said Karak, his voice as soothing as hot milk on a chilly evening. “Stand and do not cry.”

Soleh rose to her feet, and with a racing heart, brushed aside the large hand before her and threw herself at him. She collided with her god’s belly, just below his metal breastplate, and wrapped her arms as far around his waist as she could. She buried her face into his clothes. He had the smell of winter about him, of snow and pines and smoke.

“You have been gone for so long,” she said into his clothing. “I feared you wouldn’t return.”

“Forty years is not long, child,” her god replied. He brushed back her hair, his touch warm and comforting. “Not to those like us.”

“It seemed like a long time to me.”

Karak laughed, and the sound filled the arena. Kayne and Lilah bellowed in their cages.

“You were always such a sweet girl, Soleh. So beautiful and innocent, so pure.” He slipped a huge knuckle beneath her chin and lifted her head. “And those eyes, still like a babe filled with wonderment. The most beautiful thing I have ever created. I could gaze into them forever.”

“So why did you leave me, my Lord?” she asked.

“I did not leave you, child. I have been near. I have heard your prayers, uttered every night by your bedside. I have watched as you dutifully fulfilled your promise to help the people learn to serve their own justice. You have helped our society grow strong, yet it cannot stand on your shoulders alone. You make me proud. You are one of the few who do.”

Soleh took a step back. Doubt began to infiltrate her pure thoughts.

“I don’t understand, my Lord,” she said. “If you have been watching, then you know of the ugliness that has been spreading across our lands. The sickness, the greed, the violence. Years ago we had riots over the price of wheat. You are the God of Order, my Lord, and yet all I see is chaos.”

Karak shook his head and smiled softly.

“You do not understand, my child. There is order in all things, eventually. I stepped away because you, my children, needed to grow up. You needed to learn to exist on your own, without me lording over you day and night. My children need to make their own decisions, to build their own destinies, to maintain their own order. If that does not happen, you will never be free. You will be slaves, just as the children of my brother are. You deserve freedom. I have given all of you the framework for success, and I leave it up to you to carry those lessons forward, to improve, to thrive .”

Soleh gazed once more into those beautiful eyes, larger than life itself, and saw the kindness and honesty in them. She could not help but smile. She stepped back and bowed, sweeping her arms out wide so that her cloak flowed over her like the cascade of a waterfall.