The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher (33 page)

“It was rather unique.” Kenner answered and the gallery laughed a little.

“There are a few details that seem to be missing, though.”

“And what details would that be?” Kenner asked.

“Where did you sleep?” Kenner was asked.

“Where did I sleep?”

“Yes, where did you sleep on this journey of yours?”

Kenner was a little off set by the question and, at first didn’t quite know how to answer.  His left hand found the hilt of the sword and he suddenly felt more confident.

“Any particular night in question?” He asked the prosecutor.

             
This time, the prosecutor seemed set back, but he soon recovered his confident demeanor.

“How about the first night?”

“On the ground next to the road?”

“The second night?”

“Under a collapsed roof of an abandoned house.”

“Third night?”

“A cave.”

Kenner then saw a familiar face at the back of the courtroom looking at him.  It was “Shadow” and she was smiling.

             
“And what of the next night?” The prosecutor asked.

“Excuse me, but is there a point to this?” Kenner asked, annoyed.

“The point is, Captain,” The prosecutor said in a raised voice.  “That you and your two colleagues have told incredible stories of these journeys of yours and you have no witnesses to support your claims other than each other.  You expect this court and our King to believe that you made these journeys; when in fact, you’ve invented these adventures of yours in order to support the fraudulent claims of an ambitious officer whose primary goal is to bring glory to himself while hiding the truth of his own criminal enterprise.”

“Are you insane?” Kenner almost screamed.

“What really happened at the ‘Merchant’s Gate’, Captain?”

“We were attacked by five thousand Wolfen and only the three of us survived.”

“Really?  Why are there no other witnesses other than three convicted criminals?”

“Because the rest were wiped out…”

“Wiped out by five thousand creatures that the world knows to be extinct.  Five thousand creatures of which there is no proof of their existence other than your testimony!  Is that what you’re about to tell us?”

“You were bullied as a child, weren’t you?” Kenner said.

“Answer the question, Captain!  Where is your proof?  What possible evidence could you have to prove these ridiculous claims of yours?”

“You really think I’m making this up?”

“I call on you to produce some piece of evidence; anything to prove your claims!”

Kenner then leaned back.

“If you insist.”

He then drew the sword from its sheath.  It made a loud and long ringing sound; everyone in the courtroom gasped audibly and the prosecutor almost fell over himself.  The King leapt to his feet.

“Recess!” He shouted above the noise of the courtroom.  “I call an immediate recess!”

Kenner looked to “Shadow” who smiled and nodded proudly.

Chapter Forty One

             
The King demanded that Kenner, Captain Krall, General Pol and Kirallis all follow him into the throne room.  He walked so fast, it was hard for even Kenner to keep up with him.  Upon entering the throne room, he spun around and all could see the rage in his eyes.

“On your knees!  All of you!” He shouted.  “Especially you!” He yelled, pointing at Kenner.

They all dropped to their knees and stared hard at the floor.

“Where did you get that sword?” He shouted at Kenner.

For a moment Kenner didn’t know what to say.

“Answer me!” The King shouted again.

“I found it in a tomb in the mountains.” Kenner said respectfully.

“A tomb?” The King gasped.  “I suppose you’re going to tell me it was Farraday’s tomb, is that it?”

Kenner was about to answer when the King interrupted him.

“How many of you knew about this?” He yelled at the rest.  No one answered.  The King panted hard in anger and no one dared look at his face.

“Get out!” Philas commanded.  “All except you, poacher!” He yelled at Kenner.

             
Kenner could hear, but not see the others almost run out of the throne room.  He stayed on his knees and staring at the floor; not sure of what to say or do.  He could see the King’s feet pacing back and forth in front of him for several moments, then stop in front of him.

“Stand up.” The King commanded.  He was calmer, but his voice was still full of anger.  Kenner rose but still kept his head bowed.

“Look at me.” The King almost yelled.

Kenner looked at the King and there was a fear in his face he previously didn’t think the King capable of.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had the Black Sword?” The King asked him.

Kenner thought carefully before answering.

“The time didn’t seem right.” He finally answered.

              The King breathed heavier and his eyes narrowed on Kenner.

“The time didn’t seem right?” The King asked as if searching.

Kenner was about to speak when the King interrupted him.

“And when would the time be right?  When you decided to take my throne?”

Kenner then returned his gaze.

“I have no intention of taking your throne.” He said seriously.

“Not today, perhaps, but when you decide…”

“I have no intention of taking your throne!” Kenner yelled at the King.  There was a power and strength in his voice that surprised even Kenner.  The King backed away, and then sat on the marble steps leading up to his throne.

             
Suddenly, the King looked small and helpless and for a moment, Kenner felt sorry for him.

“What is your intent?” The King asked.  There was a pleading in his eyes; almost like a child not wanting to be punished.

Kenner backed away.  Was it really possible that this King was afraid of him, he asked himself?  He studied the King for a moment looking for any semblance of the man his father had warned him of.  The pride wasn’t there.  The arrogance wasn’t there.  This couldn’t be the man his father hated, he thought.

“I don’t know.” Kenner finally told him.  “The only thing I do know right now is that this ridiculous trial is a waste of time.  There are five thousand…”

“Yes, I know!” The King shouted almost as a defense.  Then he stood up.

“I know,” he said with some of the strength having returned in his voice.  He then stepped closer to Kenner and reached his hand towards the sword.  Kenner stopped him before he touched it.

“It doesn’t seem to like anyone but me.” He told the King.

              The King then shook his head and smiled.

“I can’t believe it.” He said in a sad laugh.  “The Black Sword.  The weapon that conquered the known world and made one man King.”

At that moment, Kenner understood the King’s reaction to seeing the sword.

“You really thought I was here to take what is yours?” He asked the King gently.

The King looked away from him, appearing to be embarrassed.

“Of course, I did.” He told Kenner.  “Every King of this land for the last five hundred years has been waiting for the day that sword returns to this world.  All of them knowing that it would mean the end of their reign.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Kenner replied.  “But I have no interest in your crown or anybody else’s.”

“Then what do you want?” The King asked, the desperation in his voice having returned.

Kenner thought for a moment.

“I want to fight the battle that’s coming, win it, serve out the rest of my five years and then go home.”

Then the King stared at Kenner in amazement.

“You’re serious aren’t you?” He asked.

“That’s all I want.”

              The King turned around and looked up at the throne at the top of the marble steps.

“Destiny may have something else for you in mind.” He told Kenner.

Suddenly, Kenner was reminded of the conversation he had with “Shadow” the night before.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

             
When the King and Kenner came out of the throne room, all who had followed them from the courtroom dropped to their knees.

“Get up, you fools.  I’ll take no heads today.” The King said as he passed them.  He then marched up to the soldier from the courtroom.

“Summon the court.” He said.  “I’ve made my decision.”

              “All hail the King!” The herald called out as King Philas returned to the courtroom.  Everyone rose to their feet and bowed.

The King returned to the throne in the courtroom and when he sat, all around him did the same.

“Captain Krall!” He called.

Krall rose to his feet.

“You stand accused of falsifying a military emergency; looting the city of Calderon and of perjury against this court and the crown.  Having heard all relevant testimony, I have made my decision.  Are you prepared to hear judgment?”

“I am, Your Majesty.” He answered.

             
The King took a deep breath and looked about the courtroom.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he began; “but this may have been the most ludicrous and absurd waste of my time I have ever experienced in all my years as King of this land.  The evidence against you is preposterous and the claims made against you by the Lord Mayor of Calderon laughable.  If there were a law against wasting the King’s time, I would immediately have the Lord Mayor arrested and thrown into the lowest dungeon in this city.  Fortunately, for him there is not.  That said, I find you, Captain Krall innocent of the crimes you are accused, order your immediate release and return to duty.”

He then looked at the panel of judges.

“Does the panel disagree with the decision of the crown?” He asked, almost as an afterthought.

One of the panel, a Congress member named Erlot rose to his feet.

“The panel does not agree with the judgment of the King.”

             
There was another audible gasp throughout the courtroom and the King’s eyes bulged with rage.

“I beg your pardon?” He said, gritting his teeth.

Erlot then looked to the Lord Mayor and nodded at him.

“We believe,” He said, “that the prosecution has raised serious questions as to the credibility of the defendant and his supporting witnesses.”

“What questions are those?” The King demanded.

“They are all convicted criminals, Your Majesty.” He said, obviously holding back a smile.  “As such, their testimony is questionable at best.”

             
The King glared at Erlot for a moment, his eyes appearing to almost be on fire.  Everyone in the courtroom was shocked.  No court had ever overruled King Philas before and the idea that any such event would ever happen would have seemed impossible before that moment.  The King’s eyes narrowed on Erlot, who smugly eyed him in return.  Suddenly a smile crossed the King’s face and then Erlot looked worried.

              “Am I right in assuming,” The King said slowly, “that the central issue in this trial is the credibility of the witnesses and their claims?”

Erlot clearly thought about the question for a moment before answering.

“That is essentially correct, Your Majesty.”

“Among the claims you question is that an army of five thousand Wolfen is currently approaching the city of Mobrey.  Is that correct?”

“That is correct, Your Majesty.”

“Would you say,”
the King said even slower, “that it would be essential to this trial to verify these claims?”

              Erlot was clearly taken back by this question.

“I’m not sure I understand, Your Majesty.” He stammered.

“It’s quite simple, Your Honor.  If you believe that the defendant and his witnesses are lying about this Wolfen army, then surely verifying the existence of this army would be a means of determining the validity of their claims.”

Erlot then turned and consulted with the rest of the panel.  They spoke in hushed, but apparently panicked voices.

“That might be one way of determining his guilt or innocence,” Erlot tried to say.

“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Your Honor.”