The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2) (21 page)

Bang, bang, bang
—

Yitch pounds a wooden mallet on the thick walnut table. “Order, order! Quiet and take your seats.”

The boys ignore the headmaster, and Yitch pounds the mallet again, harder, and his robe, the same color as the blood carpet, flaps in a flurry. “I said, silence!”

The room shudders, and Pard can hear his own heart beating as he reaches his spot in front of the railing.

Professor Videl gives Pard one last look of hope and then climbs the side stairs and sits in his chair on the presiding panel.

Yitch rises tall and extends his arms out wide. His robe spreads as if they’re wings. In a jerky fashion he suddenly points his mallet at Pard’s chest. “Let the record note that this preceding on this date of Tuesday the 18
^th
of November is hereby commenced. That the student Pard Wenerly stands before the Fairstone Council,” Yitch’s face contorts into something thoroughly menacing, “on the grounds of murder, and all evidence and witnesses will be heard. If found guilty, the accused Pard Wenerly shall be escorted off the grounds of Fairstone and be banished forever. The hearing shall now begin with the presenting of facts.”
 

Yitch raises Pard’s drawing of Yitch flying like a bird over the school, and Pard shooting arrows at the headmaster. Yitch glares at Pard and thrusts the drawing in his direction. “Accused, do you recognize this drawing?”

“Yes,” Pard says with a slight cough, then he swallows and shifts his feet in place.

“Is this your drawing?”

“Yes.”

Yitch points to a woman scribe, a studious mouse-like creature sitting at a small desk at the far end of the stage. “Let the record note that the accused Pard Wenerly has confirmed that this is his drawing.” The headmaster steps out from behind the table and paces back and forth on stage as if he’s an actor in a play, performing as if talking to himself and only occasionally looking and acknowledging the audience at certain points with inflection in his voice. Yitch raises the drawing and shakes it in the air. “This picture, of a man flying over the school and being shot at with arrows, was found in the west wing next to the murder victim, Nero Yitch, which places the accused at the scene of the crime!”

The audience gasps, and whispers ensue.

Yitch spins toward the other side of the stage and points to Sully. “I call the first witness, a boy of uncompromising character and honor, from a great family, son of Lord Callahoo of the Seven Ricks. Sixteenth in line for the throne of Bivmerin, Lord Sully Callahoo.”

Sully walks out onto the stage and eyes the crowd, he grins and flicks his head toward a few boys sitting in the pews on the right side of the cathedral in the front row.

Yitch sweeps his hand toward a chair in the center of the stage for everyone in the cathedral to see. “Lord Sully Callahoo, please sit.”

Sully sits, his toes don’t touch the wooden stage, and he sweeps his gorgeous blond hair off his forehead to the side behind his ears. His face almost looks fake, sculpted from an artist’s mind, proportions perfect, except for the rest of his tiny body.

“Lord Sully Callahoo, can you please tell the council what you saw on the night of Monday the 10
^th
of November?”

Sully wiggles in his chair. “Sure. My brother Nox and my friend Blaine and me were heading back to our rooms through the west wing after a study session—”

Pard snorts interrupting him.
As if anyone would believe they study
.

Yitch’s eyes snap toward Pard, and he gives Pard a disdaining glare.

Sully continues on, “And we came across
him
.” Sully points at Pard.
 

Yitch shifts to the scribe. “Let the record reflect that Lord Sully Callahoo places the accused Pard Wenerly at the scene of the crime.” The headmaster turns back to Sully. “Go on, Lord Sully Callahoo.”

“My friends and me were tired after a long night of hitting the books for our upcoming terms and we were joking around as we were heading back to our rooms, you know, minding our own business. Then
he
came strolling through the hallway, fire in his eyes and ferocious, twisted face, snarling and spitting, chanting ‘umping or something I couldn’t recognize. He was truly out of his mind, totally crazy, and he looked like he was going to murder someone.”

“Yes, go on, go on,” Yitch says, leaning forward getting more excited by the second.

“We veered away from Wenerly letting him pass by us, because he looked totally mental, and dangerous. He was mumbling swear words and ‘umping, then swung his arms in an aggressive manner. Scared the heck out of us.”

Pard shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“So then what?” Yitch says.

“Then Wenerly shoved me against the wall and spat in my face. Out of nowhere he attacked me, yelling, “umping, ‘umping, ‘umping!’ My brother Nox came to my aid and got between the madman and me. Then Nero the cat meowed and stepped between my brother—”

Yitch raises his hand to stop Sully from talking. “Please, the deceased is more than a cat. Refer to the victim as Nero, or Nero Yitch. Also state your brothers full name for the record.”

“Sure, Lord Nox Callahoo stepped between Nero Yitch and Pard Wenerly. Nox asked him what was wrong with him, and Pard snarled like he was going to explode and tear off my brother’s, I mean Lord Nox’s head. Nero meowed again, and this seemed to upset Pard even more. Then Nero, that beautiful creature, looked up at me innocently and it appeared as though he smiled.”
 

Yitch nods in understanding. “My sweet boy did that, you have a good soul, Lord Sully, you knew him well, please continue.”

“Then Nero shifted to Pard and rubbed his body against Pard’s leg. This infuriated Pard. His eyes turned more wicked, and he viciously kicked the cat, it was the most depraved and coldhearted thing I’d ever seen in my entire life.”

“
Unbelievable
,” Pard mutters under his breath.

Yitch scowls at Pard. “The accused will stay silent. He will have his chance to speak when all the evidence is presented and the witnesses heard. Until then, keep your mouth shut!” Yitch turns back to Sully. “Go on, Lord Sully, sorry for the interruption. Then what?”

“Then Lord Nox shoved Pard away from sweet Nero, and the cat leaped up into my brother’s loving arms to escape the madman. Lord Nox embraced and protected the poor animal. Pard’s eyes went full crazy, and they glowed aqua-blue—like solid orbs of bright light—the scariest shit—I mean thing I’ve ever seen. Then Pard lunged for the cat, flickers of electricity arced out of his fingertips. One of them even zapped me. Lord Nox angled his body and stepped away, but Pard was relentless, as if Nero murdered Pard’s family.”

Yitch coughs and swallows funny. “Truly a tragedy that was, now keep going, Lord Sully Callahoo.”

“Again Lord Nox tried to shield Nero from Pard’s attack, and when Pard couldn’t grab Nero out of Nox’s arms, a bolt of lightning shot out of Pard’s chest and latched onto poor Nero. A few seconds later, Pard’s face twisted into a ghastly monster and his body convulsed and then the light flashed and then, well, Nox couldn’t save poor Nero from what came next, nor could anyone else. Nero flew out of Lord Nox’s arms and—he died rather quickly it seemed.”

The audience gasps, and a few people cry.

Yitch slowly shakes his head in disgust. “Murder.”

The audience gasps again.

Pard sighs.

Yitch nods. “Thank you, Lord Sully Callahoo, you have been very brave, you may go.”

Sully slides out of the chair and strolls past Pard. He wipes a fake tear from his eye and lowers his head. Sully peeks to the side so only Pard can see his face. He sniffs and winks at Pard. Then slowly staggers off the stage while continuing to sniff as if he’s crying.

Yitch points to the far end of the stage to Blaine. “I now call the next witness, also a boy of uncompromising character and honor, from a great family that is forging the path to the future of Bastin, Blaine Nabin.”

Blaine strolls out onto the stage and sits.

“Mr. Nabin, can you confirm Lord Sully Callahoo’s testimony that Pard Wenerly was in the west wing, attacked the three of you, and then killed Nero Yitch with a lightning bolt?”

Blaine purses his lips. “I can. Wenerly attacked us and then killed Nero, just as Lord Sully said.”

“Is there anything else you need to add to the testimony, Mr. Nabin?”

“No, sir.”

“Thank you, brave boy, you may go.”

Blaine pushes off the armrests and strolls past Pard. He gives Pard a glimmer of a grin then disappears behind a red curtain at the end of the stage.

“I now call the next witness, also a boy of uncompromising character and honor, son of Lord Callahoo of the Seven Ricks. Fifteenth in line for the throne of Bivmerin, Lord Nox Callahoo.”

Nox, scowl on his pitted face, glares at Pard as he struts across the stage and to the chair. Nox sits.

Yitch eyes Nox for a few seconds for dramatic effect, and he doesn’t say a word. His body suddenly flinches and his robe flutters. “Lord Nox Callahoo, can you corroborate Sully Callahoo’s testimony?”

“I can.”

Yitch nods and whirls away from Nox. He strolls back and forth across the stage while pinching his pointy beak-like chin. “But how can the council be so sure you’re telling the truth,” Yitch says this as if he already knows the answer, “is there any unquestioning evidence you can provide for us, Lord Nox Callahoo?”

Nox lifts his robe sleeves and shoots his bare forearms into the air, exposing his scorched, blistered skin, created from Pard’s blast of light that struck Nero. “When Pard shot lightning out of his chest and murdered Nero, who I was holding and trying to protect, which I would’ve given my life for that lovely creature—and I darn near did—anyway, when Pard shot his light, it scorched my skin. I bet I’ll be scarred for life.”

Yitch slowly shakes his head with compassion. “Scars of bravery, my dear boy, you’re truly a hero, wear those scars as beauty marks of pride and honor, reminding you and everyone else how truly remarkable you are for your selfless act of kindness and courage. Is there anything else you’d like to add, Lord Nox Callahoo?”

“No, sir.”

“Then you are dismissed from this preceding, and I applaud you again, you’re the epitome of what it means to be a Fairstone boy.”

Nox pushes out of the chair and strolls past Pard. He glares as he sweeps his hand over his mouth, and slightly circles his chin, sticking out his finger and slicing his throat so only Pard can notice.

Yitch opens his arms toward the council. “My colleagues, my friends, that is all the evidence and witness testimonies for the prosecution. This compelling evidence proves beyond a shadow of a doubt of the guilt of the accused, Pard Wenerly. This guilt is apparent by an overwhelming margin.” Yitch eyes each professor on the panel. “Unless there is any further evidence to provide to the contrary.”

No one says a word.

Yitch faces Pard. “Do you have any evidence to deny the charges and claims made against you? You may speak now before the council renders its decision.”

Pard’s stomach clinches into a knot and sharp pain pulses. Nauseous sensations rise to the surface, and his head still pounds and is in a fog from last nights dance with the crossbones. He can’t believe this rubbish, and then it hits him,
Screw this place, I don’t need this school, or Yitch, or anyone else in this mockery of a charade
.
Even if I am destroyed, this is crap.
Pard gives up all hope of saving himself and let’s out what his mind is thinking. “This is garbage, Yitch. Whatever.”

Yitch smiles, victory now firmly within his grasp, Pard out of Fairstone and three hundred newly minted gold coins in his coffers. “Let the record note that the accused Pard Wenerly has no defense or even denies the claims put forth against him.”

Pard looks up and finds Professor Videl's sad eyes, and they tell him all he needs to know, shame, and Pard’s time at Fairstone has come to an end.

Yitch stands at the edge of the stage and looks out over the audience. “If there is anyone here that can add to the proceeding either for or against the accused, please speak now or forever hold your peace. If no one comes forth in the next minute, the judgment will be rendered.” Yitch clicks open his golden pocket watch, golden chain dangling from his robe.

Pard stares at Yitch as Yitch stairs at the clock face, counting down to his victory.

The audience is silent, only breathing and anxious shuffling in seats returns as evidence.

Pard grips the wooden railing in front of him, his knuckles red and white, all he cares about is getting out of this cathedral and far away from Fairstone.
But that means Eeva and Alexa
. Pard’s breath catches in his throat at the thought and panic floods his body.

Yitch looks up from his watch and grins, he clicks the case shut, the sound echoes through the vast cathedral like an executioner’s axe striking block. “One minute has past and no one has anything to add to the accused’s defense—”

“I have something,” Miles’s voice reverberates off the walls of the silent cathedral.

The audience shifts in their seats and eyes Miles.

“L-Lord Marlow,” Yitch says with a stutter. “You have something?”

“Yes, I have something to add to this proceeding,” Miles says as he makes his way out of a back pew row and onto the red carpet leading to the front.

“You have something to add for or against the accused?”

“For the accused of course,” Miles says sharply, as if it would be obvious.

The audience whispers and again shuffles in their seats.

“
You do
?” Yitch says, a tinge of concern seeps out of his thin lips.

“Yes.” Miles struts toward the stage with head held high and comes to a stop next to Pard.

Pard looks at him in surprise and tilts his head to the side and mouths,
what are you doing?

Miles grins and winks at Pard and then sets his hand on Pard’s shoulder. Miles nods at Yitch. “Let the record note that on the night of question, I, Lord Miles Marlow, fifth son of Lord Lucine Marlow of Latvin, the Protectorate of Bastin, after detention with both Pard and Professor Ames, I waited outside the classroom for the accused Pard Wenerly, and we left the castle together for an hour and studied advanced mathematics.”