Vhalla shrunk back and dropped her head.
Egmun could take anything people said and turn it into whatever he wanted. He had the Senate eating from his palms by the time the witness was done. Vhalla was fairly certain he could claim that she had a second head springing from her naval that sucked out people’s souls through their noses, and they gladly believe him. She raised her head half an inch to look at Aldrik through the curtain of her hair.
He’d yawn from time to time and made a show of looking bored with all the proceedings. She wondered if it was hard for him to sit through. It was insulting to say someone like her could command him in any way, just as it was insulting to imply that she could affect him as a master sorcerer. Then there were the rest of the lies. Vhalla rested her forehead on the bars as Egmun called the second witness.
The second witness was a man, a builder, who was saying that the demolished houses showed signs of wind and not explosion damage. That they may have been standing today otherwise. The third was a woman whose daughter had died in the square, and Egmun made the point that perhaps her daughter had survived the explosion but instead the wind killed her.
“The Minister of Sorcery, Victor Anzbel,” Egmun called.
The minister took the dais. He had a fist on his hip and stood easily. “It’s been a while, Egmun.” Victor grinned.
The senator sneered. “This is hardly a social call, minister. We have serious matters to discuss.” Egmun was stiff.
“I can see that. I very seriously wonder why you locked away one of the most promising apprentices the Tower has ever received like some common criminal.”
Egmun raised his eyebrows.
Vhalla tried to keep the surprise off her face. She was officially an apprentice of the Tower? She glanced to Aldrik. A spark in his eyes directed at Egmun had been lit. He was amused.
“An apprentice of the tower?” Egmun seemed to have the same questions she did. “There are no rec—” He was shuffling through papers on a small desk nearby him when the minister cut him off.
“Of course there aren’t. Nothing had been made public yet. We were waiting until after the festival to announce it. She had friends in the library, and we wanted them to enjoy the celebrations. It seemed rather ill-timed to do it during the festivities,” Victor explained easily.
Vhalla blinked.
“If this all occurred, then where are the documents?” Egmun asked in haste.
“Oh, my apologies, senator.” Victor fussed in his bag and produced an official-looking paper. He walked over and Egmun met him at the bottom of the steps leading to the senatorial seats. “You should find it all in order.”
Egmun glanced over the parchment with a frown.
“This bears the seal of the prince,” Egmun growled.
“It certainly does,” Victor said matter-of-factly. “He is very active in the Tower, as you know.”
Vhalla looked across at Aldrik. He had a small smirk curling up the corners of his mouth. His confidence fit on him like well-tailored clothing.
“And of the Master of Tome...” The paper shook like an autumn leaf in Egmun’s hands.
Vhalla blinked. It had Mohned’s mark?
“Senators, I think you will find all the necessary signatures, mine and Vhalla’s included.”
Her signature was on there? It had been forged, and she had a suspicion she knew by who. The master wouldn’t, even if he knew it was her wishes, and Victor didn’t know her writing.
Aldrik allowed his eyes to meet hers levelly for a moment, and she knew. He was asking for her silence with that dark gaze. She closed her eyes for half a breath and looked back at him, hoping he understood. While she had never told the prince her decision in the end, she had to assume that somehow he knew. Vhalla wondered if Mohned’s signature was a fake too or if the master was also stretching the truth on her behalf.
“We had actually started working with her; it would have been irresponsible of us not to. She’s been in the Tower quite a bit since her awakening. She even has a mentor.” He produced another piece of paper, and Vhalla realized Larel was also fighting for her. It was a relief to see that Egmun wasn’t the only one who could paint pictures with words.
“If she was in such control by the Tower, then what happened the Night of Fire and Wind?” Egmun said roughly, his annoyance showing.
“Everyone Manifests differently. There hasn’t been a Windwalker in almost one hundred fifty years. We can only operate on the best knowledge we have,” Victor said casually.
“That lax attitude may have gotten innocent people killed,” Egmun sneered.
“I believe the prince was doing his best to keep an eye on our promising apprentice and those around her. We can only make adjustments going forward. But as a point of reference, were there any confirmed deaths from the cyclone?” Victor asked.
Egmun paused.
“Quite the contrary,” an old and sagely voice called from the back of the room. All eyes turned and Vhalla smiled; Mohned had come. “Forgive my tardiness, good ladies and sirs of the Senate, your graces of the Empire.” He walked slowly to the edge of public seating on the left. The master stood at the short fence that blocked off the area from the central testimony dais.
“Only one witness is to speak at a time,” Egmun scolded, glaring at Mohned.
“I would like to hear what he has to say, Head Elect,” an Eastern female senator called.
Mohned turned to the Emperor. “If it would please your highness?” the master asked.
The Emperor looked to the Senate and received motions of approval, so he gave Mohned a nod. Master Mohned crossed through the gate to stand on the dais with Victor. Vhalla looked at him; he was hunched over and looked every year of his age.
“Please explain what you meant,” the female senator asked, taking some control from Egmun.
“I just came from the clerics. Unfortunately, one of my apprentices died in the explosion.”
Sareem, Vhalla breathed his name faintly, his face clouding her vision in an instant. Would she ever have a chance to mourn him? Or would she soon meet him in the Father’s realms beyond?
“But another was with him. The girl’s name is Roan.”
“Is Roan alive, master?” she called frantically.
The Emperor seemed to let the outburst slide, much to Egmun’s annoyance.
The master gave her a nod. “She will heal in time, the clerics say,” the master replied with a nod.
Vhalla didn’t try to hide her tears of joy. “I’m so glad,” she rasped.
“Well, this is just touching, but I fail to see how it is relevant.” Egmun was trying to regain control.
“Roan, my apprentice, was discovered right next to the epicenter of the wind storm,” the master pointed out. “I have been told the storm had such force it ripped apart the attacking Northerners and tore down buildings. If she was right next to it, would she not have been tossed to shreds also?”
A murmuring coursed through the senators. Egmun looked around, his face twisting in rage.
“Now that you mention it,” Baldair joined the conversation with a thoughtful rub of his chin. “None of the bodies were moved, alive or dead. They hardly seemed touched by the wind at all. They still littered the road. I would’ve imagined them blown about.”
The murmuring became louder, and for the first time Vhalla breathed a little easier. Not only because it seemed like Egmun’s control was wavering, but because she realized she hadn’t hurt anyone, save for the Northerners who tried to kill her and Aldrik.
Egmun stomped down the stairs and up onto the dais, clutching the paper Victor had handed him earlier.
“Is this your signature, master?” He shoved the paper in Master Mohned’s face, forcing him to take a step back to try to read it. “Tell me, had it been decided that Vhalla Yarl would join the Tower?” The senator took another aggressive step forward thrusting his fist and the paper at Mohned.
“Let me read it.” Mohned took another step back, and th
e hem of his robes caught on the small lip that surrounded the inner circle of the sun dais. The master’s old, frail frame began to tumble backwards, and Egmun made no motion to stabilize the older man. Victor was too far away, and Vhalla saw it happen, as if ten seconds slower than everyone else. The master couldn’t correct his balance and, with pin-wheeling arms, he began to tumble backwards.
“Master!” Vhalla cried and thrust her hand out from between the bars, the chain of her shackles clanking loudly. She felt a tingle in her fingertips. Her magic still felt exhausted and barely strung together, but enough had replenished to heed her command.
The master’s fall slowed with a ruffle of his robes, and he was eased onto the floor gently. Mohned turned his head and smiled at her as the rest of the room sat in a stunned silence.
She took a shaky breath as Victor helped Master Mohned carefully back onto his feet.
“Thank you, Vhalla,” he said gently, readjusting his stance.
She had just enough time to breathe a small sigh of relief before chaos descended upon the room.
“GUARDS!” EGMUN CRIED.
Vhalla glanced back at Craig and Daniel. They were frozen in place, and the odd sense of wonder on Daniel’s face as he looked at her told Vhalla their stillness wasn’t entirely from fear.
“Guards!” Egmun bellowed and they sprang to life, pushing her to the ground roughly, their swords drawn. The tips pressed into the back of Vhalla’s neck.
“Calm down!” Victor cried, his hands in the air.
“She’s a monster!” shrieked one senator.
“We’re not safe here!” wailed another.
“Vhalla wouldn’t hurt anyone,” the master attempted.
“It isn’t natural,” a man shouted.
“You old fool, it’s amazing,” came a lone voice, though one or two others muttered agreement.
The shouts and arguments became more heated, and Vhalla felt the boots of the guards on her back. She’d made a mistake. Without thinking or planning, she’d used her magic in front of everyone. Vhalla struggled to twist her head to see, very aware that sudden movements could be permanently detrimental to her health.
“We should kill her now,” one man bellowed.
“How can we kill such a power?” a woman snapped back. “It has utility!”
“The most important thing about power is how someone uses it!” Victor attempted, though Vhalla wasn’t sure if he was heard. “She can do great things!”
The Emperor began banging his staff.
“We will rue the day if we let her out of here alive,” one senator said.
“Kill her now!” screamed another.
Vhalla looked out at the scene; most of the senators were on their feet. Some were fighting with each other, more were arguing with Victor on the dais below. Egmun stood silently, a mad smile creeping up on his features. He’d won. He showed she didn’t have control over a different and frightening power.
“Silence!” the Emperor roared, and the whole room fell into a startled hush. Everyone realized, all at once, that they had forgotten themselves. He rose to his feet and descended from the royal platform. Mohned, Victor, and Egmun parted with a bow of their head as he walked through, but his attention was glued on her.
Vhalla twisted her head slightly; one eye was squinted shut against the floor, and the other was partly covered by her hair. He knelt down before her on the other side of the bars, and placed a hand on his raised knee. The Emperor regarded her curiously.
“Let her sit,” he ordered.
Vhalla felt Craig and Daniel remove their feet from her back. She eased up slowly, their sword points still at her neck. Vhalla risked a movement to pull her hair from her eyes.
“My lord, I don’t think—” Egmun started.
“Silence, Egmun.” The Emperor held up a hand. The most powerful man in the realm considered Vhalla for a long moment, his blue eyes searching her for something. Eventually she looked down at her hands folded in her lap, unsure what he wanted to see. “Could you strike me down where I am now?” he asked.
“My lord?” Vhalla couldn’t believe her ears. Was it a trick? Or a test?
“You are shackled, with swords at your throat, behind bars. Could you still strike me down?” Though his eyes looked nothing like Aldrik’s, she felt a familiar intensity in them and it gave her pause.
“I’ve never thought about doing something like that, and my magic seems strange right now... But I suppose I may be able to,” she answered honestly.
The Emperor nodded. “Did you try to kill my son?” he asked.
She met his eyes. “No,” Vhalla’s voice was small, but strong, like a finely forged rapier. “I would only ever want to save your son.”
She thought back to Aldrik on his knees, not unlike how she was now, with swords at his throat. It rattled her from the inside out; it fueled her resolve. Even under the Emperor’s searching gaze she did not look away. In this one moment, Vhalla had nothing to hide.
The Emperor nodded. “Take off her shackles.” The Emperor stood and Daniel quickly sheathed his sword to fumble with the locks on her wrists.
“My lord, we should consider—” Egmun began to protest.
“Egmun, if this girl wanted to kill any of us, she could have and would have by now.” This realization seemed to rattle some senators as much as it calmed others.
Her chains removed, Vhalla stood on doe-like legs and rubbed her wrists gently. Even if she was still in a prison, she felt marginally better without being cuffed and chained.
The Emperor continued to study at her. “Vhalla Yarl.”
She looked up; it was the first time he’d used her name.
“Have you ever conspired to harm my Empire?”
“No, of course not,” she answered directly.
“Did you conspire with the Northerners on the night of Fire and Wind?” he asked, his eyes continuing to rest heavy on her.
Vhalla’s mouth dropped open. “No!” she snapped, not caring to whom she spoke. “They killed my friend, they threatened my home, and they—” She stopped herself and his eyebrows raised. Vhalla’s eyes flicked over to Aldrik. “They...” she repeated again. How much would he want her to say? “They did something unforgivable.”
“What happened that night?” the Emperor asked.
“I was at the Gala,” Vhalla began. “I was...there when the explosion happened. I saw where it happened. My friends were near its center; I had to go help them. So I ran through the city. I found them, then the Northerners were upon me a-and...” She was struggling with leaving Aldrik out of her story. “I thought they would keep hurting people. They were going to kill me and I only wanted them to die.”
“And the crown prince?” the Emperor asked.
She cursed inwardly. Of course that wouldn’t be forgotten easily. Vhalla took a deep breath finally looking away. “He...” He, what? He had been a supporting and guiding figure since the summer? He inspired her? He was someone who made her smile as much as he had made her want to kick something? Vhalla shifted her gaze to the senators, who seemed to be hanging on her every word.
“He’s a much better a person than I’ve heard people give him credit for. He’s worth a lot more than many of the people in this room, and it’s not just because of the crown on his head.” She looked back at the Emperor. “He wanted to help. If I am guilty for anything, it was putting him in a position where he felt compelled to do so.”
A stunned silence filled the room. Even Egmun couldn’t seem to find anything to comment on. She wasn’t sure if she had damned herself, or if Aldrik would be enraged at her for it, but she didn’t regret her words. Eventually, she looked down and grabbed the sides of her sack.
Without a word, the Emperor relinquished his stare, turned and walked back to his throne. Vhalla felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her but her attention sought out the gaze of only one.
Aldrik made no motion. He concealed his emotions even from her. Vhalla sighed softly and looked do
wn again; it was hopeless. Everything she thought she knew about her and the prince was wrong. Why else wouldn’t he speak for her?
“I think we have enough to reach our decision. Do you have any more to say on your behalf, Vhalla Yarl?” the Emperor asked.
She shook her head, not raising her eyes again.
“I propose a motion that we reach our verdict tomorrow. Our Empire is at war and has more pressing matters than this. If there are no objections?” Naturally, no one stepped forward to speak against the Emperor. “Guards, take the prisoner away.”
Vhalla turned and Craig pulled open the door. She followed Daniel out, not looking back for a moment. The walk back to her prison was in silence. But they made no motion to return her shackles.
Within her cell, the walls closed around her. Vhalla sat by the door, her back against the bars to avoid giving the impression she wanted to speak. She rested her head against a bar gently; the pressure on the back of her skull was a welcome pain.
She sighed and closed her eyes. It would be another day of waiting—and then, her fate. At least she would be out of here soon. The end of the trial seemed to have gone in her favor, but it had started so poorly. Their cries, calling for her death, echoed through her ears.
The next morning, Vhalla woke to the same dim light of her cell and wondered what time it was. She rubbed her eyes, blinking away sleep. They fed her last night, but it was only scraps of bread. Her stomach wasn’t in too much pain though, her sparse eating habits paying off.
The sack was beginning to itch, and she desperately desired to bathe and change. Even if they put her back into a burlap thing, she wanted to get out of this one. A heavy sigh relieved a small amount of stress and tried to keep the sanity-threatening memories at bay. She had to compartmentalize and lock the thoughts away to survive.
“Oh, you’re up.” Daniel had heard her. “Want breakfast?”
Vhalla nodded.
“I’ll see what I can find,” Craig said before running off.
“What time is it?” she asked, moving closer to the bars.
“I think an hour or two past dawn.” Daniel turned and knelt.
“Have they begun?” She didn’t need to clarify they. He nodded. “Yeah, not too long ago. I’ve no idea how it’s going,” he said apologetically.