Medalon

“I should have drowned you at birth!” she hissed, low enough that only those closest to her could hear. “Both of you!”

“Why didn’t you, Joyhinia?” Tarja asked. “Didn’t have the heart to, or was it that you hadn’t added murder to your repertoire yet?”

Joyhinia slapped his face, the crack ringing out across the silent compound. His head snapped back at the force of the blow, but when he looked at her, he was smiling.

“Feeling better now?”

Joyhinia was livid as he stood there defying her. With a visible effort, she forced a smile.

“Very much, thank you,” she replied. “I’ve been meaning to do that for a long time.” She glanced back at Jenga, who stood next to Draco watching the exchange with a stony expression. “How many did you capture?”

“Two hundred and eighty-seven in total,” Jenga informed her. “Including the innkeeper who was harboring them and Sister Mahina.”

At the mention of her predecessor, Joyhinia looked back at the gathered rebels. Hearing her name, Mahina stepped forward.

“You are a stain on the honor of the Sisterhood, Mahina. I don’t understand how you can stand there amid these criminals and still call yourself a Sister of the Blade.”

“The Sisterhood’s honor was in trouble the day you rose to power,” Mahina retorted. “No stain I’ve inflicted on the Sisterhood will be noticed against the background of your grubby footprints, Joyhinia.”

Rage threatened to overcome the First Sister. She had not expected to face these defiant and unrepentant agitators. She turned on her heel and walked toward the gate.

“What are your orders regarding the prisoners, your Grace?” Jenga asked.

Joyhinia stopped and looked first at the Lord Defender, then at her son and the daughter she had renounced, then at the old woman she had defeated, who was all but laughing at her. A black rage seemed to fill her whole being. Tarja could see her trembling to hold it in.

“Kill them,” she ordered.

“Your Grace?”

“I said kill them! All of them. Put them to the sword!”

Jenga hesitated longer than he should have. He looked at her for a moment, wavering indecisively. The compound was deathly quiet as three hundred rebels and more than a hundred Defenders waited for the Lord Defender to give the order. The sun was high in the sky and beat down on the gathering relentlessly. Tarja could hear the distant singing of birds among the trees on the other side of the field. Jenga slowly unsheathed his sword and held it before him.

“Kill them all!” she repeated, just to ensure there was no doubt regarding her intentions.

“No.” Jenga’s sword landed in the dirt at her feet with a thud.

Joyhinia stared at the man in disbelief. “You dare question my orders?”

“No, your Grace,” Jenga said. “I refuse. I’ll not put three hundred men to the sword on your whim.”

“They are criminals!” she cried. “Every one of them deserves to die!”

“Then let them be tried and hanged as criminals under the law. I’ll supervise their hanging if they are found guilty, but I’ll not murder them out of hand.”

“What difference does it make, you fool! I am ordering you to pick up your sword and do as I say or, so help me, you will join them!” Joyhinia was screaming, beyond caring.

“Then I will join them,” Jenga said quietly.

“Your brother will pay for your treachery, Jenga!” Joyhinia warned.

The Lord Defender shrugged. “Dayan is dead, your Grace. You cannot use that threat against me any longer.”

Desperately, Joyhinia turned as the sound of another sword hitting the ground distracted her. It was the young captain, Harven, standing near Tarja, his expression serious but defiant. A few more followed hesitantly, then suddenly it seemed all the Defenders were hurling their blades to the earth in support of their commander.

Joyhinia stared at them, aghast at the implications of such treason. Tarja’s expression was one of awe. He couldn’t believe they had chosen to defy her. R’shiel stood close beside him, her body touching his, and she smiled.

Joyhinia turned to Draco frantically. “Draco, I am appointing you Lord Defender. Place Jenga and these other traitors under arrest and carry out my orders.”

Draco hesitated. Tarja watched the man, wondering which way he would jump. Would he follow Jenga’s lead and defy Joyhinia, or would a lifetime of duty override his conscience?

“As you wish, your Grace,” he said finally, in a voice completely devoid of emotion.

“This is murder, Draco,” Jenga told him. “Not justice.”

“I am sworn,” Draco replied.

“Aye,” Jenga scoffed. “Just as you were sworn to celibacy, yet the proof of your oath-breaking stands before us all.”

The Lord Defender pointed at Tarja, and for a moment, he didn’t understand what Jenga was implying. Joyhinia seemed to pale as she glared at Draco. The realization hit Tarja like a blow. It accounted for so much. It accounted for Joyhinia’s inside information, even long before she had joined the Quorum. It accounted for something else, too. Tarja knew now who had ordered the village of Haven put to the sword. He looked at the man who had fathered him and felt nothing but abhorrence.

“How many more oaths have you broken, Draco?” Jenga asked. “How many others have you murdered at Joyhinia’s behest? Was she blackmailing you, too? Or are you just craven?”

Draco unsheathed his sword and held it before him. For a moment, he glanced at the son he had never acknowledged. Tarja stared at him. He had not expected to learn who his father was this day. Nor had he expected his father to be the instrument of his destruction. Draco looked away first, distracted by the thunder of hooves as a red-coated Defender galloped into the yard.

“Lord Jenga!” he cried, throwing himself out of the saddle before his lathered mount had skidded to a halt. “We’re under attack, sir!”

“Attack?” he demanded. “By whom? The rebels?”

Breathing heavily from his desperate ride, the trooper shook his head. “No, my Lord, it looks like the Hythrun.” The news sent a wave of disturbed mutters through the gathering, particularly among those Defenders who had just thrown down their swords in support of Jenga. “They’re coming in from the south. Two full Centuries, at least. I don’t know what they’re riding, but they’re making incredible speed. They must have crossed the river further south. Captain Alcarnen said to tell you they’ll be here within minutes.”

Jenga turned to Joyhinia. Tarja expected her to relent in the face of this unexpected crisis. There was no time now to apportion blame or seek revenge. Not with two hundred Hythrun riding down on them. He wondered how they had come this far into Medalon without being discovered.

Jenga bent down to pick up the sword that lay at Joyhinia’s feet.

“Draco! Carry out my orders! Kill them. Now!”

This time, even Draco balked. “Your Grace, perhaps we should wait...”

“Kill them!” she screamed, her rage driving her beyond all reason.

Tarja was astounded at Joyhinia’s intransigence. “Didn’t you hear him? We’re under attack, Joyhinia. Let the Defenders do their job.”

“It’s a lie! A trick! There is no attack! This is just a plot to save your miserable lives! Kill them, Draco! All of them! Kill every miserable wretch here, including those traitors who threw down their swords. Now! Do it now!”

Draco looked at Joyhinia uncertainly. The woman had stepped over the edge into blind, insane rage, and Draco may have been many things, but he was not a fool. He shook his head. “I’m sorry Joyhinia, not this time.”

Looking first to Draco and then at Tarja, Joyhinia’s fury knew no bounds as she saw the look of quiet triumph on Tarja’s face. She screamed wordlessly, snatching up Jenga’s sword that lay in the dirt at her feet and rushed at him. Her sudden attack seemed to wake the Defenders from their torpor. Tarja was vaguely aware of other shouts, other voices. R’shiel cried out. Joyhinia thrust the heavy blade forward as R’shiel stepped in front of him, taking the