Stephen Deas: The King of the Crags

'But not quite. I was reborn.'

'Lucky for you!' GarHannas grinned. He obviously had no idea what Semian was talking about. 'There are a couple of riders and a score of the Adamantine Guard who've locked themselves in Hyram's Tor. They're trapped and they know it. The alchemist is in there as well. Everyone else is busy taking everything we can carry from the landing fields, but Hyrkallan's gone to get the guard out of the Tor. We need the alchemist, or at least his help, and Hyrkallan doesn't want to burn them.' He grinned again. 'They don't know that, of course. We'll threaten them with fire and offer them their lives if they surrender. Want to hear the old man? He's good for this sort of thing.'

Semian shook his head, absently staring up at the tower. Slowly he dropped to one knee. 'Praise to the Great Flame.' He closed his eyes and murmured a short prayer. He felt GarHannas shift uncomfortably beside him. 'Let the riders standing watch over our captives hear Hyrkallan speak. I will take their duty.'

GarHannas nodded. He started to move away, but Semian shot back to his feet and put a warning hand on the other knight's shoulder.

'I'll give you some words for the soldiers you've trapped, though,' he said. 'You can tell them that those who are devout will be spared. Tell them that those who aren't will be given the choice: turn their backs on the Usurper and serve the Great Flame or they burn.'

'That's not what – '

Semian ignored him and left GarHannas standing there. He waved to Jostan and Nthandra, calling them over. He walked to where the Scales and the other men who were now their prisoners sat, sullen, scared or simply bemused. 'This lot!' He pointed at the Scales. 'These ones serve the Order and the Order serves the Great Flame. They have nothing to do with our fight. Let them go. As for the rest…' He scanned the prisoners. They were all little people. Huntsmen and craftsmen and labourers and the like. No one of any consequence.

But that was no excuse. He glanced around. The other riders were gone away now, off to the tower to hear Hyrkallan storm and bluster. These souls were his.

'As for the rest! You served the Usurper. You are sentenced to die.' He drew out his sword and counted them as he spoke. Eighteen men and women. Him and Jostan and Nthandra watching over them. Three riders. If they ran, some of them would escape. That's what you should do then, isn't it? Why do you stay?

'Hyrkallan said that we should let them go,' said Jostan.

Semian ignored him. 'Or you may choose a different master. Fall to your knees and pray to the Great Flame. Give yourselves to the fire and you may be reborn. You may live again. Refuse the fire and die now.'

Nthandra hadn't moved. Her hand was resting on her sword. He took another look around to be sure. No other rider was close enough to pay them any attention. They were all busy with whatever Hyrkallan had set them to do.

'Justice and Vengeance!' Semian roared. 'Fire or death!'

They didn't run. They begged and pleaded and cried and one by one fell to their knees, praying as Semian had told them to do. They were liars though. Semian walked among them, and as he passed each one, he laid a hand on their head and saw into their heart. One he found, only one who truly believed. The rest of them were liars, all liars. He wrenched the one soul worth saving to his feet, pulling him up by his hair, and pushed him towards Jostan.

'Take this one away. We'll deal with him later.'

Nthandra still didn't move. She didn't turn away either. She was here for revenge. They all were. And the Flame is with me. Masked as a blood-mage, but I know who you are really are, and you promised Nthandra would be the first. So we will see…

He went back to walking among his prisoners, waiting until Jostan was out of sight. Two of us now. The rest of them thought they were saved. He could feel it. Liars. All liars. As soon as Jostan was gone, he lifted his sword. And now, truly, we will see…

'Liars!' he screamed as his blade chopped down. 'You're all liars! Burn in the truth of the Great Flame!' For a split second, as Nthandra drew her own sword, he didn't know whether she meant it for him or for them. Then she stabbed a man as he started to his feet and chopped the legs out from another, screaming at them something that even Semian couldn't understand. The others ran, but not far. The rest of the Red Riders nearby saw to that with bows and swords, mistaking the rush of men for an attack. When they were all butchered, Semian dragged their bodies into a pile. The other riders watched now, faces mixed with curiosity, awe and horror. As much as anything, Semian knew, this was a lesson for them. They were young, most of them, the ones that Hyrkallan hadn't taken with him to the tower. Young and scared and angry. Perfect for his purpose. Some of them had just cut a man down for the first time. Now they were realising what they'd done. Justice, that was what it was. Hard, cold justice. They needed to learn that now, needed to learn what it would mean to follow the Great Flame.

When the pile was done, he called Vengeance. He climbed onto the dragon's back. From up there, he could see right across the eyrie. The bodies below seemed small and distant, not really human any more. Semian closed his visor and Vengeance set the bodies ablaze. 'The Great Flame reclaims its own,' he shouted out. He closed his eyes and let the sound of the fire wash over him.

'What in the name of Vishmir's cock are you doing?'

Semian lifted his visor and looked down from his saddle. Hyrkallan was back, puffed and out of breath. GarHannas was with him, and two other older riders that Semian didn't know.

'What happened?' GarHannas looked sickened. 'What did you do? They were common folk. They had no part in this.'

Semian could only laugh. 'We are all the same before the Flame. Did you take my words to the tower?'

'Are you mad? The alchemist, the servants and one of the riders have come out. The rest of them saw what you did and chose to stay inside.'

'Then you should kill the alchemist for serving the Usurper, and the rider too! The servants from the tower can have the same choice as those we caught outside!'

'And what choice was that? Get down here, Rider! If you claim to serve Princess Jaslyn then I am your lord and you will beg me for mercy.' Hyrkallan looked ready to climb up and rip Semian out of the saddle with his bare hands.

Semian spared him the trouble. He slid to* the ground and spat at the old dragon-knight's feet. 'We are the Red Riders, not some gang of bandits. You should know since you chose the name. If you don't have the stomach for holy work then step aside for someone who does. I'll lead them myself.'

'You will not.' Hyrkallan's fist landed on Semian's jaw, knocking him down. The other riders bowed their heads as Hyrkallan glared at them, one by one. Inside, Semian smiled. He'd seen their faces light up, if only for a moment. Here and there, embers smouldered inside them. Kithyr was right. He would have them. Today, tomorrow, the next day, the when didn't matter; he would have them.

He looked at Hyrkallan as the old knight walked away. And he knows too.

The common folk from the tower were as devious and insincere as the ones outside had been. Semian couldn't see even one worth saving, but Hyrkallan let them all go anyway. He let the alchemist go too. The rider though was one of Zafir's. One that Semian knew. One with nothing worth saving. Even Hyrkallan had to see that. Yet he was merely stripped and whipped and sent running naked away.

'We are the Red Riders,' Hyrkallan shouted at the tower. 'Take those words to the Usurper you serve! We will not rest until justice is served.'

'Justice and Vengeance!' shouted someone else.

'Justice and Vengeance!' came another. Hyrkallan spun around, and the riders fell silent. Slowly he nodded.