AN/ Thank you all so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it. Sorry about the lack of puncuation in the last chapter, no idea what happened there, it was there when I WROTE it, but gone when I uploaded. Is there a grammer thief in ours midsts? Have a fantabulous Thanksgiving and enjoy this chapter, straight from me to you.
George
-chapter three
George promised to return in the evening, well before sundown, but after her trial. Alanna looked petrified at the idea of being left in the dark and facing her people's hating eyes.
George continued hastily,
"Ye'r trial yemust be at, or they will track you down. But, Alanna…the Trial is naught but a formality. They expect 't kill ye at sundown," he saw Alanna shiver involuntarily and George pulled her closer to him, their bodies touching through the bars. "The Trickster God has ye as Hs own now. He will not fail ye, and neither will I. I swear to ye Alanna, that ye will live long." He looked deep into her purple eyes and whispered softer yet, "I swear to ye."
"I believe you, George." Alanna breathed, "I'm just scared. And…regretful. I was supposed tokill Roger. I would have, I know I would have if…. They were supposed to agree that Iearned my shield and let me have it. They were supposed to." A tear trickled down her soft cheek and she said so soft George almost couldn't hear, "They were supposed to believe me."
George held her tighter, kissing her tear stained face. Wishing that there was no barrier separating them and that he could take her home with him that instant. After they broke apart Alanna blinked away her tears. She wouldnot cry, Roger would not win this.
One o'clock crept stealthily and slowly at her, until sprinting the last two hours before she could do more than blink. Six Guards marched down to collect her. Two pinned her arms to her sides and tied her wrists behind her back. Two of them marched in front of her and two more behind, and two who bound her never loosening their painful grips. When they drug her into the Great Hall Alanna's eyes felt ready to pop from their place in her skull. The room was full to the brim, threatening to spill over. Her close friends huddled together on one side, looking miserable. Duke Gareth was on the same side as them, as was Captain Sklaw, Myles, even Steffan was crouched at the end of one bench, trying to look inconspicuous. Alanna bit her lip, she had lied to so many people, and yet she had some of them on her side. She saw some of her younger page friends sitting defiantly behind Gary and Raoul.
For the sake of her friends Alanna crushed back the tears threatening to spill over and raised her head high, ignoring the sneers from some and the unkind murmurs she could just hear. She put her shoulders back and brushed away thoughts of her dirty hair, her wrinkled clothes, the scrapes and bruises on her body. She met the eyes of all that looked at her with a calm gaze.
Myles sat on the edge of the hard bench, watching the girl walk through the room, like a Queen she looked, no fear and looking around with a cool gaze. Myles had known her real identity for years, but had never said a word until four days ago when she had confessed it to him. Myles knew that he dearly loved the girl like she was his own daughter, she listened to his stories with an interest no one had shown before her, and she was smart beyond her eighteen years. He had guessed of her hatered with Roger of Conte, but in spite of that he knew that she would not accuse him unless it was the truth. He was proud to be on her side.
Gareth of Naxen the younger watched his long time friend walk, head held high, into the room. When Roger had cut through her disguise it had not come as a shock to him to learn of her gender, he had known. Albeit not for long, she had told him when she was knighted a few weeks before. And before that…well, he had not known, but he had known that something was different and secret about small 'Alan'. He watched her face raptly as she was lead to the front of the room. She looked surprised at first, then full of sorrow and seemed resigned to her fate. Then just as quickly her gaze filled with a burning anger. When she came level with the section of bench her friends and him occupied she turned her head momentarily and let her features soften to a small smile. But it quivered, for the instant that it was there, he saw her fear buried deep under the blank eyes. She met his eyes and Gary nodded deeply, respect blazing in his hazel eyes. She looked forward again, her eyes directed at Duke Roger and the King and Queen, their faces grim. Gary tried to push the bad feeling in his gut down….
Raoul of Goldenlake had his arms folded tightly to keep them from shaking. He turned in his seat when he heard the door open, and followed Alan with his eyes. He felt more mixed up inside then he had ever been. On one hand he was hurt that Alan—Alanna had not told him hi--her secret. Had she not trusted him? He would not have told a soul! He did not love her any less than he had when she was…a boy…. Some many people seemed to have known, Jon, Gary, Myles, George, but not him. He supposed he couldn't blame her, if it had been him in that situation he was sure he would tell as little people as it was possible. He started as her violet eyes fell on his own. She met his gaze for only a moment, but her eyes were sad. He imagined the guilt and pain she must be feeling. No, he could not harbor any ill will to Alanna of Trebond. He watched fearfully as her gaze fell on the Duke and turned as cold as ice….
Roger of Conte watched with satisfaction, not even bothering to hide it from his face. Her eyes were defiant, yes, but just beyond that he could see that she was almost broken. Just one small thread held her. He would break her. He would make her pay for daring to cross him, to ruin his plans. She would not live to see him overcome the Throne, but oh would he think of her on that day. When he took his rightful place and placed the crown that rightfully belonged to him on his head, he would think of her. He hoped that she would feel his triumph from the grave. He hoped that her ghost would writhe in fury and regret, never able to rest peacefully. He hoped that she would scream out in pain, her silent voice filling her, he hoped she would curse the Goddess and feel all the betrayal and hate crush down on her. Roger's handsome face twisted into a menacing sneer and fought the laugh of triumph bubbling in him. He had finally bested Alanna of Trebond.
The King stood firm on his feet and surveyed the room grimly. He watched the Traitor walks towards him, her eyes flitting across the room. He watcher her eyes fall on his Nephew, Roger, and her eyes become slits, filled with such hatred that the King felt the need to shield his eyes, but he restrained. A second later those eyes fell on himself, but they did not hold the hate she harbored Roger. It was only…sad. She looked regretful. The King remembered back to when she had saved their only son, Jonathan, from the Sweating Sickness when he was but a day from death. How had it come to this?
Roger looked over the King feeling annoyance as he slid from his grasp for a moment. Roger reached out and held his uncles arm, as if steadying him. Appearance was everything right now. The King met Roger's eyes and Roger's slid out of focus as he concentrated on holding his uncle's mind to his. The King looked addled for a moment then his eyes cleared and resumed his angered look. He cleared his throat and the quiet buzzing ceased instantaneously. In a clear voice that echoed through the room he said,
"Alanna of Trebond, you are charged with attempted murder to the Queen and I myself, King of Tortall. You are further charged for lying of your identity and attempt to frame an innocent man. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty…your Highness." Alanna fought to keep her voice steady. Jon, who watched carefully thought he could detect a quiver in her voice under the cold tone. Alanna had been his lover, since she was sixteen and his squire. But now it seemed that fate was to pull them apart. Fate had thrown in a twist.
The King continued gruffly,
"Do you realize the full extent of the crimes you have committed, Trebond?"
Alanna opened her mouth, her eyes wide, she croaked out,
"B-but I didn't do it!"
The King continued one as though she had not spoken, his eyes fixed above her head as if she did on even exist.
"All evidence points to the accused as being guilty. She is an accomplished sorceress as was proved by her defeat of the Gray Death, dated-"
Alanna snarled angrily at the King, her composure breaking,
"When I saved you SON AND HEIR!"
The King cleared his throat and continued,
"She is marked as having had a hatred of the Duke of Conte since the day he arrived," Alanna opened her mouth and the King spoke louder to deter her, "And furthermore, furthermore she broke into his private quarters to plant evidence that I, as your King, can vouch did not exist before."
"It DID!" Alanna screamed desperately.
"You lied about your identity, who's to say that you are…not…lying…now!"
The King roared these last words and tumult of noise broke over the spectators witnessing the scene.
"SILENCE!" The King bellowed, trying to regain control of the crowd. Roger of Conte sat content by his uncle's side, masking his pleasure with a grim look of a troubled mind.
Alanna sunk to her knees, staring wild-eyed at the chaos before her. How had it come to this madness? How had the King she served come think of her as a traitor and a sneak? Alanna's last damn of strength broke and tears streamed down her pale cheeks in silent grief. She mourned the loss of the life she had known.
After much arguing of both sides and all people the silence regained it's hold upon them, casting them into tense anticipation, some in fear, and some in loathing.
The King looked haughtily down on his subjects, dismayed by the amount of protest. How could they not see that this wretched evil girl was…. The King looked over at his wife seated next to him, her eyes pained and full of sorrow. Thegirl kneeled before him was…simply a young girl. It seemed incredulous to think that she would be capable of, or even imagine doing such crimes. Could he in good faith murder her?
"Uncle," The King heard distantly his nephew speaking to him. He turned dimly to look at Roger. Roger's eyes narrowed and the King stumbled back. Roger's arm snaked out and caught him by the shoulder.
Roger regained his control over his Uncle. It seemed that he would need to watch him constantly, he fought much more than he should. No matter, Roger thought, he would just have to bind him stronger still. The King's eyes once again filled her anger and he whirled around to face the crowd.
"THERE WILL BE ORDER!" His voice echoed in the room and instantly the crowd hushed to silence.
"The capital punishment used with traitors of the state must be withheld. The final punishment for the crimes of Alanna of Trebond, regardless of her sex, for threat against the crown, is in this circumstance, is Death by beheading."
The last word rang out into the eves of the palace. Alanna, still on her needs head down was shaking violently, her eyes averted from the accusing stares that seemed to come from every angle.
The King continued in a softer voice, but no less harsh.
"All in favor of this, please-"
The Duke stood and touched his uncle's arm, The King nodded his head in consent and sat in his thrown watching Roger intently.
"I would like to speak to you all." Roger said in a soft, but commanding and clear voice, "I am of the idea that this is not a matter of which we should vote. For truly, what is there to decide? This-" Roger paused for a moment before speaking, "this woman." His tone dripped with disdain as he uttered the word Woman.
"This woman has done the Unspeakable. She has fooled even my Gift, which is something that has not happened since I was but a student. How, you might ask, could this have happened? Am I not among the most power sorcerers in Tortall, if not everywhere? How could I have not seen this, might be crossing you mind. I wish, oh how I wish, that I could come up with a suitable answer other than the one I am about to give you. But I am unable to. The only answer I can give you is that some darker powers must be at work. Some evil lives inside her, a dark God, trying to test and crush our spirits and strength. So I ask you this: Will we let them win? Will we be conquered by this spy of Evil?"
A ripple of approval for Roger cast over the crowd, Alanna was pained to see there was not enough to let her live. People were standing, supporting Roger with blood-lusting eyes. Her last chance was over. Alanna felt shame wash over her. Was she at fault, somehow? Did she deserve this like everyone seemed to think?
Myles watched in horror as Alanna hung her head, her cheeks flushed. He wanted to do something, had to say something…but what could he say? Who would listen to an old grizzled soldier? His heart clenched at the thought of losing the person who had brought him such companionship and joy.
The King regained silence. The room watched the man who give life or take away, for Alanna that life was her own. He started to speak, to make his final decision.
"The punishment for the accused is to be death.
It was decided. Alanna was to die at sundown.
Alanna was pushed back into her cell immediately following the adjournment of her 'trial'. The panic she had been fighting was over coming her. She couldn't breath, she need air! Her body wracked with tremors, unable to stop her bodies fervent rocking. Her mind whirled with thoughts; she could not except that her people, the ones she would fight for, were throwing her away.
"Alanna," a whisper pushed its way through her tortured mind. "Lass, listen 't me.
Alanna shivered and rocked harder, her head refusing to turn to George's face. George reached through and turned her head, his hand holding her chin. Her face was blotchy and swollen. But the part that made George gasp when he forced her to meet his eye was the defeated look in her eyes, the awful acceptance.
George wanted to comfort her, to hold her but there was no time. He said quickly,
"We must hurry, they are coming soon. Take this-" He handed her a strong rope through the bars of her cell, "Thread it through the bars. Good, just like that. Hand me the ends. Alright, back away from the bars."
George heaved on the rope. The rope was infused with thieves magic, and would open even the strongest metal bars. He had paid much to get it, he prayed silently that it would hold true.
It did. The bars groaned, George winced at the horrible noise, and then with one last heaved snapped from their binding in the ceiling. George reached through and grabbed Alanna's arm roughly, pulling her to her feet and out. Keeping a tight hold on Alanna's hand he pushed and tugged her along a passage, not speaking. Alanna stumble, trying to keep up with George's brisk pace, he was almost running, and looked around dazedly, trying to make sense of the situation and where they were. Her hurried thoughts discerned that they must be in some hidden wing of the palace, one only George seemed to know since they did not meet anyone along the passage.
A moment later they were suddenly outside, Alanna blinked, as though she distrusted her senses. She had thought that she would never see the sky again, expecting to die in that dank shadowy prison. She felt more than relief at its return, she felt as though she was returning to an old friend. She did not have much time to marvel before they were indoors again, though she could not see anything more than she had in her cell. She felt panic rising in her throat. She heard a hiss behind her and whirled around as light filled what turned out to be a wooden walled room. George stood before her holding a lantern which was casting a flickering, but comforting, glow on the walls around her.
Before she could do anything more, speak, take in her surroundings, she was in George's arms. She burrowed her face in his shirt, his rapid heartbeat vibrating her skin. She allowed herself to sob into his shoulder, great soaking sobs that she would have been mortally ashamed by at any other time.
Her tears cleared after a long while, she noticed that she had somehow ended up winding up sitting on a bed next to George, her cheek resting against his. George pulled back so that there eyes made contact and wiped her tears softly with his rough fingers. He said softly,
"You're safe now."
Is Steffan spelled correctly?If not I offer my apologies!
AN/ I'll try to get out a new chapter soon, but I'm having a crazy-busy life at the moment so don't hold me to it! Thanks!