Abbalar tales ~ 30

 Abbalar tales ~ 30 Confrontation

By Len Morgan

'So little brother what have you been doing since our father returned to the wheel,' Paveil asked.

'Nothing of any moment' said Aldor.

'Do you mind if I look for myself,' he asked?

 'You're in my mind, so feel free...'

Paveil watched the climb to Eldoriel’s chambers, watched Genna rescue him, then his storytelling period in Mandrell, the chase to Ordens pillars, his fight with Skaa, and finally his return to Corvalen.

'Something is missing,' he accused.

'How I was changed?   I swore not to reveal that to a living soul, honour forbids me to speak of it or open my mind to the subject,' he said answering his own question.

'I must respect your oath, but that does not prevent me from speculating,' said Paveil, I'll warrant it has something to do with that strange mountain configuration, Orden's Pillars?   It's an area of volcanic activity don’t you know?  Yet, I've never met a single person who has been up there until now; doesn't that strike you as odd?   I think for that reason alone it will warrant further investigation at a later date.  One day, mayhap when time allows' he smiled.

'Does that mean you are going to become Regent?'

'I am by your leave, but first I need to establish contact with some people who can arrange matters and spread the good word.   I, we still have to make good our escape from this place.'

'Most of the guard, the sergeant and the captain included, are disquieted by Faziel's erratic and irrational behaviour of late.   But, they are loyal Corvalens and would not question the undisputed Regent.   If however, he should cease to be the only credible contender for the Caliphate, they would not be slow to re-appraise their allegiance.   Give me the names of those you would contact and I will ensure they are gathered for my execution.' 

.-…-. 

Asba Dylon and other revisionists within his cell worked tirelessly.   Each made contact with another cell not known to his or her fellows, and so the news spread like wildfire throughout the long day.   As the sun edged imperceptibly towards the horizon, the crowd gathered expectantly and the street vendors did brisk trade.  

The sergeant led out his hand-picked guard flanking the tall condemned man, dressed in the traditional black cape and cowl.   The silent crowd gathering in the square outside the palace was many times larger than would normally be expected for the death of a common felon.   The pageant would unfold in the open area immediately before the Porticoed palace, which separated the crowd from the dignitaries.  A flight of overlarge stone steps further distanced the crowd.   Even after countless centuries of use, incredibly, the steps still showed little sign of wear.   Close to the edge of the steps, and in full view of all, stood a large unadorned wooden block.

The Regents personal guard marched into view, from between the fluted columns, led by the Regents champion Kaffeit.   The square had been packed, far beyond its capacity, for an hour prior to the arrival of Fazeil, his retainers, wives and children.   On their right flank stood Jazim and her retinue.   Finally, Kattex, the axe of Corvalen was trooped out and ceremonially unsheathed, to the hushing murmurs of the crowd.   The mirror bright blade captured the oblique rays of the setting sun, spontaneously bursting into flame, burning with an inner fire.   A great collective cry escaped from the crowd, they would have blood.

The 'Supreme Arbiter' of Corvalen stepped forth.   He stood resplendent in his ceremonial robes topped off with the black skull cap and his staff of office.   He tapped the base of his six foot steel-tipped staff on a certain hollow stone, the only one showing any signs of wear and the sound reverberated around the square.  

"Silence!" he yelled.  

The crowd settled into a charged expectant hush.

"We are gathered, to carry out sentence duly passed on the felon know as Aldor – duly tried and convicted of murder - by a jury of Freemen residents of the city of Corvalen..."

The expectant crowd murmured.  As they quietened a voice from amongst them cried, "By whom?"

"Tried & convicted…" the arbiter continued, ignored the interruption and, attempted to continue.

"Name the Freemen who sat on the jury and the counsellor who acted in his defence!"  The voice in the crowd demanded.

"Tried & Con…" the supreme arbiter attempted a third time.

"I have the names and sworn testimony of twenty eyewitnesses, to the incident, all stating the soldier's death was an unfortunate and tragic accident."

"Who are you?   Step forth and be recognised, and if you be acceptable, present your statements."

Asba Dylon stepped out from the crowd, a thick bundle of papers and a heavy tome of law clutched to his chest.  

"These," he said, waving the thick bundle of papers at the crowd, "are all statements from Freemen, duly witnessed and notarised.   They all maintain the man Aldor is innocent of any crime."

“Shame, shame, shame…” a chant rose from the crowd.

"Silence!" the arbiter heeled his staff into the same worn spot four, five, six… times.   The sullen voice of the crowd lowered once more to a background hum.

"The young man was assisting me in my capacity as a counsellor of Corvalen, when a drunken oaf of a soldier launched an unprovoked attack on my person.   Aldor acted, as any responsible employee would, he came to my assistance.   When he arrived I was aground and taking a fearful beating; as my wounds will attest.  I honestly believe, had he not intervened, the lout would have killed me.   I do not for one minute believe the soldier was acting, in an official capacity, under the Regents instruction.   How could he justify beating to death the first counsellor of Corvalen?" Asba asked.   "Now as I understand it Aldor issued a challenge. It was accepted by the soldier, and according to the rules of chivalry should have been answered at dawn today, by the man himself, but for his fatal accident, so, as custom dictates he challenge should be answered by his superior.   Apparently his commander, a capt Vascelli has already been transferred to the Bycroft front.  A sudden transfer order was issued yestereve.   So according to law the challenge then passes up the chain to his commander who, because of the transfer, assumes the responsibility of answering the redress.   Do you know who that person would be sir?"

The supreme arbiter consulted briefly with his assistant.

"It seems the next in line would be the Regents’ champion, Kaffeit.   But I am given to understand this Aldor is not a native of Corvalen," he said, reading from a note handed to him by another assistant.   "Only native-born Corvalens are eligible to issue a challenge of this kind, therefore the challenge was invalid.    "It appears therefore that your man has had a lucky escape.   It seems there were indeed irregularities in his conviction, the Regent has made further enquiries and ordered that it be quashed.   He is free to go!"

"No sir!"  Said Aldor.   "I am a free-born man of Corvalen and I will not forego the challenge, or allow Kaffeit to wriggle out from under, let him present himself."

"What he says is true," Asba confirmed, would you like his credentials to be checked?"

"I was told he is from the north, an alien recent arrived.   But, if the first counsellor will confirm it, you surely do not intend this to go ahead,” the arbiter pleaded, "it would be suicide."

Neither Aldor nor Asba replied they continued to gaze at him stony-faced.

"You do realise that if you were to vanquish Kaffeit, the Regents office would be yours to proffer, so long as you nominate a brother, and not more than nine months have elapsed since the demise of their father the illustrious Caliph Endrochine. May he rest easy." He added.

"If you challenge my position as Regent, you must reveal the name of the man you champion," Fazeil said breaking his silence.

"I can name a brother, and then subsequently change my mind?" Aldor enquired.

"That is so," said the arbiter.   Asba nodded in confirmation.

"Then I name Ahlendore of Corvalen," he replied.   Even as he spoke the words he saw close advisers surreptitiously leaving the assembly, to seek out the nominee and put him to death.   They would seek in vain, but they would be out of the way for days mayhap weeks.   Which would suit Paveil’s cause?   He also liked the thought that for a few brief moments he would be the Regent designate that would be accomplishment enough.

"You fool!" Fazeil yelled triumphantly.   You do realise that if he is not already dead, you have signed his death warrant, and of course your own.   Kaffeit was able to best Ghorik, my father’s champion of some twenty years standing, with ease.   No scribbling clerk will best him.   Let the challenge stand arbiter, the scribe will die for nothing!"   He smirked in triumph.  

"I will schedule the duel for dawn tomorrow," the arbiter began...

"No sir!"  Aldor replied.   The crowd held its collective breath.   "The challenge was issued yestereve.   By the rules of combat, it must be settled before the sun sets today.   We have ten minutes of the day remaining."

"It is not possible; there are preparations to be made…"

"Do it!" Fazeil said angrily.

The crowd gasped.   The arbiter nodded silently, deprived of choice.

"Aldor pulled back his hood and, discarding the cape he, turned to face Kaffeit.   Two pairs of hard flint eyes locked in a battle of wills neither would look away until Kaffeit shook his head and drew his sword.

 

"Take your time Kaffeit's voice rasped, "ten minutes is an eternity when it's all the time you have left.   Hahaha!"

 "Make your peace with the devil, you'll soon be joining him!" Aldor answered.

"You will need this," Jazim called out to him.   Harby ran forward with Aldor’s blade.

"Kaffeit did not wait, "I don't need ten seconds to kill you, son of a whore." He yelled and came in swinging while Aldor was distracted.

"Aldor ducked easily under the flailing weapon and, for the second time in his life, he tapped his opponents most sensitive parts.

"Remember me?"  He taunted with a smile on his face and contempt in his voice, "Killer of old men and children.  Coward!" he yelled.   He would not use any enhanced powers in this battle, he knew they would not be necessary.

Kaffeit, humiliated, cried out in anger to mask his pain, his face already a prophetic rictus of death, as Aldor walked calmly over to take up his sword.   He blocked a powerful overhead cut nonchalantly producing a deep ringing knell and a shower of sparks.   Any other blade would have shattered; his instead illuminated the face of Fazeil's champion with the last dying rays of the sun.  Disengaging elegantly, he disembowelled the dazzled Kaffeit.   As the curtain of darkness descended he turned in silence and walked away.   The corpse he left kneeling on the top step, clutched its innards protectively, even in death.  

The crowd became silent, it was over...

(to be continued)

Copyright Len Morgan