Marked for Death

Chapter 5

“You’re out of your mind,” Kandler told Mardak. “Dar-guun may only lie over the other side of Point Mountain, but we aren’t goblins.”

The mayor of Mardakine narrowed his eyes at his old friend. “Perhaps you’re forgetting who is in charge here, justicar,” he said. “Our people follow my guidance, and they know I speak the truth.”

Mardak turned and swept his arms wide, his ashen cloak swirling about him as he did. “My friends, Fradelko is with us no more. We have no means of extracting the truth from these intruders other than the tried and true methods our forebears used.”

“We could take them to New Cyre,” Kandler said, doing his best to be reasonable in the face of clear madness. The stress of having the citizens of Mardakine disappear one by one had taken its toll on the entire town, and it had affected no one more than Kandler. Still, he knew that the people were near their breaking point, and it seemed that Mardak was ready to snap them over his knee. “They have a priest there.”

“‘New’ Cyre,” Mardak scoffed. “A town filled with those Cyrans too fearful of what our home has become to live in its shadow as we do.”

Kandler didn’t like the way the conversation was headed. “Prince Oargev is the ruler in exile of Cyre.”

“Exile?” Mardak said. His eyes widened in wrath. “Look to the east!” He pointed up at the gray tendrils sweeping high into the sky over the crater’s rim. “We were not exiled. We lucky few happened to be outside our homeland the day it was murdered.”

“Prince Oargev is the rightful heir to the throne of Cyre, and we should present these knights to him for judgment.”

“What do you care about Cyre, Brelander?” Mardak said.

Kandler clamped down on his rising temper. Every time the two had a disagreement, Mardak would point out the fact that while Kandler had married an elf from Cyre, that land was not his home.

“I care about our home here,” Kandler said, forcing the words out one at a time. “I will not let you turn these people into a pack of hobgoblins. We are civilized. We may not be a part of Cyre, but we follow Cyran laws, and they don’t leave room for burning people we don’t like.”

“Cyre is dead.”

Until that point, the crowd had murmured along with the argument, chattering support or disgust with each position. At that moment, everyone fell silent. This was the truth they all lived with but always refused to utter.

Kandler dragged the front of his hand across his mouth as if he hoped to pull out all of the evil things he wished to say before they escaped his lips. When he spoke, his voice was as calm and steady as an executioner’s.

“If that’s so, then we’re in Breland. My homeland. We don’t burn people to death here either.”

“Times like these call for us to dispense with such niceties. We must use whatever means necessary to secure our safety.”

“Like torture?”

Mardak’s face turned stony. “Whatever means necessary.”

Kandler locked eyes with Mardak and considered the meaning of the man’s words. Eventually, Mardak looked away and scanned the eyes of the townspeople. Kandler didn’t need to. He knew what he’d see-terror mixed with anger and just a dash of hope that perhaps killing these outsiders would end the disappearances.

“Fine,” Kandler said.

Mardak’s head snapped around and he goggled at the justicar. “I’m glad you’ve come to see it my way. You will take them into custody then.” To Kandler’s ears, this was more of a question than Mardak wanted it to be.

Kandler shook his head. “I’ll take them. To my home. As my guests.”

Mardak leaned forward and whispered to Kandler like a snake hissing through its teeth. “Do not defy my authority,” he said. “If you break with me, our settlement-our cause-may fall apart. We are besieged on all sides and must speak with one voice. The people need a strong leader. Now more than ever.”

“Then be one,” Kandler said. He stepped back from the mayor and ordered the people holding Levritt to let him go. “These knights are my guests now. Mistreat them, and it becomes my problem.”

Kandler looked to Rislinto. The blacksmith blushed.

“Give them back their swords,” Kandler said.

Rislinto’s eyes bounced back and forth between Kandler and Mardak. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and along his right cheek. His burly, hairy arms shifted nervously around the bundle of swords that he’d been cradling like an infant.

“You know where your loyalties lie, Rislinto,” said Mardak. An oily sheen covered the mayor’s upper lip. “With Cyre. And Cyre alone.”

Kandler stepped up to Rislinto and relieved him of the swords. The blacksmith surrendered them without protest. “I’ll take responsibility for these,” Kandler said, “and their owners.”

Rislinto nodded and stepped back into the crowd. He refused to meet Mardak’s baleful glare.

Kandler turned to address the crowd. “You people have a funeral to finish. No matter what happened to Shawda or how she died, she was still one of us. She deserves better than this. Now see to it.”

Rislinto ordered the men nearest him to fetch torches. Kandler turned away. The sooner he was out of here, the sooner Mardak could calm down.

Deothen approached Kandler and said, “We are in your debt, justicar. But you do not have to do this for us.”

“I know,” Kandler said as he beckoned the other knights to follow him.

Kandler glanced up at the roof of the town hall to see Burch still perched there, his crossbow now pointed at Mardak, who hadn’t noticed. With a tug on his ear, Kandler waved the shifter off. He didn’t bother to look up to see if Burch would comply.

One by one, the knights fell into line behind Kandler as he passed through the town square and headed for home. The townspeople parted before him as he went. None of them met his eyes, but they all looked after him and his charges as they passed.

Even Norra was silent now, her sobs faded to sniffles. As Kandler reached her, he put an arm around her and gave her a firm hug. Esprл, who stood next to Norra, her arm still around her, whispered something in her friend’s ear. Norra nodded, wiping her tears and giving Esprл a quick embrace.

The young elf maiden reached up to take Kandler’s hand, and they walked toward their home like that. As they left the townspeople behind, Kandler looked down at Esprл. They hadn’t walked together like this in months.

Kandler didn’t have any children of his own, and he treasured his stepdaughter’s long childhood. He’d known her for six years already, and he’d raised her alone since her mother’s death four years past. In that time, she had changed so little that she seemed to be the same person. He, on the other hand, had seen his thirty-fifth year, and he was starting to feel it.

Kandler squeezed Esprл’s hand, and she looked up at him with her wide, almond-shaped eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly. She smiled back at him, and he realized he’d been missing that smile for weeks.