Truth

when we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; i am sure we should - so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again.

but i feel this: i must dislike those who, whatever i do to please them, persist in disliking me; i must resist those who punish me unjustly. it is as natural as that i should love those who show me affection, or submit to punishment when i feel it is deserved.




heathens and savage tribes hold that doctrine, jane.

it is not violence that best overcomes hate - nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury.

They say the truth will set you free,

That justice will prevail,

For myths of glory and of good

Make a pretty tale.

Many cling to vengeance,

So that past hurts may be mended,

But through abject condemnation,

Wrongs are never ended.

Though we cling to what is right,

And hold it up to honour,

There is nothing in the world

That by fear cannot be conquered.


Truth,
I write this day in some disquiet of spirit to humbly ask that you come to my aid. I am to be tried for murder, and the deck is stacked against me. The clan is in some upheaval, and there are those who would see me executed without due process. You have known me many years, have come to know me and, I think, to consider me your friend, and I ask for nothing more or less than a fair hearing.
You know I would not ask this of you unless my need was dire. I make no mention of debt; what passed between us is done, and I would do the same again whatever your decision now. I have the utmost trust that you will do what is right, and I will swear to submit to whatever judgement you deem fit.
I place myself absolutely in your honourable claws.
Zadok

“He presumes much,” remarked Consequence archly, handing the letter back to her mate.
Truth gave a noncommittal gesture. “No more than he is owed.”
“There is a debt, then?” Her red eyes flashed with interest; Truth had never been forthcoming about his past, and Consequence sensed a history behind these words.
With a sigh, Truth scanned the letter again, lingering on the signature. He felt the quiet desperation in the words of his old friend.
“It does not matter,” Truth said shortly. “He does not call upon it, he simply asks – and humbly, so it seems.”
Consequence gave a harsh, derisive laugh. “Yes, he ‘makes no mention of debt’. Why say it at all if that is not just what he is doing – demanding payment for this debt, whatever it might be?”
She could not keep the curiosity out of her voice. Truth gazed at her impassively. No harm in her knowing, really. It had always seemed something better left to the past, that was all.
“You may be right,” he said at last, folding the letter and tucking it away. “Either way, I cannot deny what I owe him.”
“And what is that?” Consequence shot back, a glimmer of irritation in her eyes.
“My life.” His voice faltered and became an incoherent gasp as his throat constricted, forcing a wheezing coughing fit. Turning his head, Truth avoided the glowering stare of his mate, knowing that although in some ways she understood his condition, it did not stop her growing impatient with his weaknesses.
As his lungs burned like they were filled with shards of glass, he gulped desperately for air. He flushed with the effort, his head pounding as his blood vessels dilated angrily to coax in more oxygen.
To his surprise, Consequence came closer, regarding him almost tenderly. Reaching out, she opened her mouth as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it. Words of comfort had never come easy to her, and he did not expect them now. Her claws closed uselessly on the air, and she waited, expression cool, for his coughing to subside.
“It seems an age ago,” he said at last, the words hoarse and pained. “In my youth, I left the clan to journey in the world for a time. I had travelled far, through many perils, and was almost home when it happened. Some nasty, tenacious thing from the Scarred Wasteland found its way into my system, and I grew gravely ill. I struggled back towards home, weakening with every step that I took, and eventually, collapsed on the edge of the clan’s territories.”
As his voice grew stronger, his face became still. He spoke flatly, without emotion, though his eyes were glassy.
“Zadok found me. He recognised the sickness at once and knew that it would prove fatal if he did not intervene. I do not…I did not know what art he worked, but it took weeks, months perhaps. I spent most of that time beyond the waking world.” A shudder passed through him. “He is a healer I suppose you could say, although there are many who do not agree with how he works. Nevertheless, he saved me. He purged my body of the poison that would have sped me to death and asked for nothing in return.”
“Until now.” Although she had listened without comment, it seemed Consequence could no longer hold her tongue. Her eyes narrowed, boring into him as if she expected to see through his flesh. Lesser dragons would wither under that gaze. Truth merely returned it, reflecting her simmering ire in his placid stare. “But your mind is made up, I see.”
“Why should I deny him, or anyone, a fair trial when they ask me?” Truth’s tone was even, without accusation.
“You shouldn’t.” His mate studied him, her eyes dark slits. “But take care, love. There are those who would question your impartiality.”
Coming from any other, he would have taken this as an accusation or a slight on his honour, but from her, he recognised that she meant it as a kindness.
“Then I will need to make sure the rest of the panel are above reproach,” he said, studying her carefully for a reaction, wondering if he was being fair.
“True,” she said simply, nodding to show she understood. She could not serve with him, for it would raise questions around their integrity. “Take Mourn, then. He will consent to come, I’ve no doubt, and his reputation is beyond reproach. He will lend your decision weight…whatever it may be.”
“You are not aggrieved?” An uncharacteristic note of worry entered his voice, and Consequence flashed her teeth in the briefest of smiles.
“No. Go to your friend. Give what help is in your power to give. Then return.”

* * *
Like distant fireflies, the fires of the camp appeared over the crest of a hill as the two lowered their flight path. It had been a long time since Truth had visited this territory. The dragons here had their own ways and systems, and as he spotted the small delegation who had come out to meet them, he became more acutely aware of their differences. Slitted eyes and solemn countenances greeted them as they made their landing, and the words of welcome were perfunctory.
No more than I should expect, he told himself. I am an outsider, here as a guest. Nothing more.
They were led to a hollow beside a ring of torches surrounding a clearing. The trial was to be at dawn.
Mourn and Truth spoke little that night. Speculation was useless, and Truth found weariness seeping into his very bones as soon as he laid himself down in the hollow, which had been lined with soft, dry grasses for their comfort. Water and food had been left out for them, but Truth found he had little appetite, merely drinking deep and soon lying down his head. The flickering flames flickered in the shadow as sleep began to consume him, and the fires roared through his troubled dreams.
The circle of trees filled silently before dawn, and as soon as the sun rose, the clan leader, an ash-coloured Guardian named Morion, had settled herself in the centre, watching as the clan assembled. She said no word of welcome to Mourn or Truth as they took their places beside her and did not speak at all until the clan were all seated. There was no need to wait for a hush, as the dragons were unnaturally quiet.
“The charges against the accused are thus: that he did take the life of the honoured clan leader Triton without provocation, against the laws we live by. I am here as leader of the clan to pass judgement, assisted by the out-of-clan justices Truth and Mourn.” Here she inclined her head at the two outsiders, though did not look at them. “We will first hear the evidence of Vesh, the potion-maker.”
“Clan leader,” broke in Mourn, who had listened intently but clearly could not contain himself any longer. “Should not the accused be present to hear the evidence against him?”
Morion fixed him with an unblinking stare. “He is well aware of it, outsider. He performed this act in front of five others.”
“Will he at least be granted the opportunity to present a defence?” the Spiral pressed, ignoring the discontented murmurs of the assembly. Apparently, they considered this an absurd suggestion. Privately, Truth thought they might have a point. What defence could there be if there were five witnesses all in agreement?
“He will,” Morion answered shortly. “Before the sentencing. Proceed.”
It might have been the strangest trial Truth had ever attended. The crowd listened in complete, almost reverent silence as the five witnesses recounted what they had seen. Little questioning was needed; each witness spoke succinctly, but in eloquent detail, and each tale was almost identical. Each one had seen Zadok enter Triton’s lair alone, before the victim had returned. They had heard raised voices and roaring, then Zadok had emerged, followed by Triton. Both looked strange. Triton had called out to Zadok, and without giving any response, Zadok had stopped, turned, and set upon the clan leader. He had struck so quickly that the other had no time to defend himself, and within moments, the victim lay on the floor, his throat shredded.
As he listened, Truth noticed a pressure building in his skull; each testimony seemed to hammer home an iron nail, firmly sealing Zadok’s guilt. He could see no way out.
“Has the accused said nothing? Given no justification for his act?” Truth asked at last, once the last witness had said their piece. His head had begun to throb, and his lungs ached with the effort of holding in his coughs.
“None,” Morion stated, with venom in her voice. “He was apprehended and taken into custody almost immediately and has refused to say anything to us. That is one of the reasons that you are here. We hope that in your presence, he may be persuaded to give some explanation or express some remorse.”
“Before he dies,” came a sneering voice from the crowd.
Morion’s sharp gaze found the speaker, who quickly fell silent. “Bring him,” she barked, and the guard at the entrance to the clearing took off.
He must have been kept nearby, for they returned in mere minutes with Zadok between them. The slender Skydancer was shackled and gagged, although he did not appear to be resisting in any way. The two dragons flanking him hauled him before the three judges, casting him down before standing to attention beside him. One of them reached forth to remove the gag. With some difficulty, Zadok raised himself. Truth saw him take a steadying breath, and level his gaze at the clan leader, who stared him down with unchecked loathing in her eyes.
“Zadok, former healer,” she said, her voice trembling with suppressed fury. “You have yet to deny your crime, and the evidence we have heard is irrefutable. Will you now speak as to your motivations before sentence is passed upon you?”
Her voice rang out as clear as a bell, and when she had finished, Truth was aware of a low, angry hiss rising from the court. He watched his old friend, as calm and stately as he remembered him, regard the enraged Guardian before slowly turning his elegant head upon the Wildclaw.
“I thank you for answering my plea,” he said. His voice was soft but unwavering, and it seemed that he spoke only to Truth. “You have heard what happened.”
“I have,” Truth said, “and I confess, the evidence is damning. Do you deny the charge?”
With a slow exhale, Zadok straightened his head. “I do not.”
Several dragons gave cries of anger at this, and some shuffled restlessly. Mourn gave the crowd a quelling look until the sound subsided, although the ripples of movement continued.
“If you do not deny the charge, it seems we have little choice. Is there anything you wish to say?”
The Skydancer opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Morion spread her wings.
“Yes, foul cowardly traitor!” she said in an odd, half-hiss, half-shriek. “Speak to your defence, though it will not avail you! Triton was ten times the dragon you will ever be, slain at your poisonous claw! What was it he did to offend you, he who had given so much to this clan? He who defended us, rose us up to the glory of the Shadow – admired and loved by every dragon here. You are not fit to even speak his name!”
A roar of approval followed her words, and several dragons rose from their perches as if to surge forwards. Even the guards looked murderous. Truth raised a suppressing claw, watching his friend, whose expression had not changed in the slightest.
“There is more to this,” he said, as calmly as ever, and his deep voice carried over the cries of the crowd.
Mourn called for silence again, and it took some minutes for order to be restored. Morion sat back on her haunches, a kind of furious triumph written on her face.
“Tell me,” Truth said.
“Some months ago, a hatchling went missing,” Zadok said, and almost instantly, Truth sensed a tense hush fall upon the court. For a moment, Morion looked thrown, completely blindsided, before she managed to gain control, resorting to a look of sceptical irritation. “She was a day or two old, had barely left the nest, but had suddenly vanished without trace. There were search parties sent out and inquiries made, but it was assumed she had set off on her own or met with an accident. It hit the clan hard, though. The parents were devastated.
“Then, perhaps a month after that, a travelling family of Coatls passed through close to the territory. Most had no idea of their passage. They came to my attention because they were seeking a cure for a youngling’s illness. I provided one, but on the day they were due to depart, the weakened young one vanished too, just as the hatchling had before.”
“Zadok, if you seek to confuse the court with this irrelevant nonsense, I can assure you it won’t work,” Morion drawled, but Mourn held up a claw to silence her.
“Few among the clan noticed the second disappearance, and none linked the two. I confess, I did not at first. Then, my daughter Eostre had her clutch. Five eggs lay upon her nest at sunset on the first day. At sunrise, four remained.
“She was distraught, and I began to investigate. I recalled the other cases. I wondered if this was the work of some predator. Eostre’s other eggs hatched, but there was an emptiness there. She was incomplete. I swore to her that I would solve it, though I did not know how I might achieve this. No one knew or had seen anything. There were no signs of beast attack. The trail was cold.
“Then Triton called me to him.”
“Lies!” Morion burst out, unable to contain her anger. “He did no such thing! He would have told me!”
“He did not,” Zadok returned, with no hint of annoyance or defensiveness in his voice, “because he was, I think, embarrassed. I visited him at his lair, as I was observed doing. His ailment was of the mind. He told me of terrible waking dreams, of moments he could not remember, of terrible thoughts and fears that plagued him. I told him I would prepare something to soothe his sleep.
“In his anxious desperation, he raved at me. Half nonsense, it seemed; I had never seen him like it. He spoke of atrocities, of guilt pressing down upon him, of terrible appetites and monstrous nightmares coming to life to torment and taunt him. And yet there were flashes…flashes of his old self, where he would regard me with sudden, angry suspicion, even fear.
“I stayed with him, reassured him I would help. I used his own cooking fire to begin my preparations. It was then that I saw them.
“Bones.” The word hung alone in the silence. Truth could feel Morion’s shock, then her rage.
“And? You will find bones in every carnivorous dragon’s lair!” she snorted.
“Not the bones of prey,” Zadok continued quietly. “These were the bones of dragons.”
If Truth had expected anything, it would have been uproar. Furious denials, shrieks from Morion and the others. But there was nothing. Only silence.
“It was unmistakable. I identified them by the skulls, lying in the ashes of his fire. Some old, others…recent. The size of cat’s skulls. Hatchlings.”
The silence stretched on and on. Zadok lowered his head, his chains clanking. Truth felt the eyes of the dragons around them like hot needles at his back. He could sense rather than see Morion’s terrible stare and did not turn to look. Instead, he kept his eyes on the Skydancer – his friend, his saviour – and he understood the terrible position he was in.
“What did you do?” Truth asked quietly, studying Zadok. The Skydancer seemed to have crumpled under the weight of his story.
“I fled. Everything had fallen into its awful place. But as I passed him, his shadowed eyes suddenly grew bright. He guessed what I had seen.” Zadok spoke to the ground, his voice barely above a whisper now, though still it was clear as light through the leaves. “I do not know if his madness caused his appetites or the other way around, but I could not find it in myself to pity him. My soul was – and is – sickened by what I had seen and understood. He pursued me, perhaps to offer some excuse, or to reason with me. I do not know. I did not hear him out. When I looked upon his face, a fearsome rage overcame me, and I struck.
“I am guilty. I killed him. But it is my hope that you may see the truth of this.” Here, he lifted his gaze at last, and found Truth’s eyes. “If anyone can, it is you. I can say no more.”
With that, he lowered his gaze again. The guards on either side of him looked sideways at their charge, as if a sudden shared question had bloomed in their minds.
Before Truth had a chance to speak, Morion cut across the hush.
“Insane,” she murmured, then seemed to regain her confidence. “What proof is there of this? None! A concocted web of lies from a deranged, vindictive mind! You slaughtered him - my mate! my love! - for your own foul purposes when he would not dream of raising a claw against any of the dragons in his charge. He did not even defend himself – as our witnesses all confirmed!”
Her eyes were burning with a terrible sorrow and fury. Zadok said nothing, nor did he look at the clan leader. Morion’s breath was ragged and filled with rage. The assembled dragons raised their voices too, deriding Zadok’s story, echoing Morion’s claims of insanity and lies, calling for justice for the dead leader.
“Enough,” said Truth, his voice ringing over the tumult, but as soon as they had fallen silent, he was wracked by a spasm of coughing. A vice seemed to be squeezing his lungs, and as he gasped for air, hissing and muttering resumed once more, as Zadok hung still and lifeless.
Angry whispering filled the glade. Wings began to flutter restlessly, and Truth felt as if his head would split open as Zadok’s tale whirled around in his mind. Could the story be true? He had not known Triton, did not know the others who had spoken; he knew only Zadok, and he did not know him to be a liar. And yet...
Conscious of the eyes boring into him from every direction, he turned to Mourn. The Spiral snaked his head closer to his friend. “Morion is decided. She will kill him for this,” he whispered urgently. “Do you believe him?”
He could not answer, and to his surprise, it was not because of his constriction in his throat or the acid in his lungs. It was because he did not know.
“We have all heard the testimony!” Morion spat, her words reverberating around the clearing. “Now you will hear our judgement! There are none here today who do not owe something to the slain Triton, and know he would have gladly laid down his own life in our defence! Now we must defend his memory! I say guilty!”
Roars of approval followed her speech, echoing cries for blood, vengeance, death.
“So I turn to my fellow judges to make their verdicts.” With a satisfied smirk, she rounded upon the two outsiders, and fixed them with her cool stare.
Truth looked from her to Zadok, still slumped in his chains. He thought of the dead dragon. He thought of the hatchlings. He thought of the attentive healer who had cared for him those many years ago.
“I believe him,” said Mourn in a clear, carrying voice, but was quickly shouted down by the raging crowd. Zadok raised his head, allowing a glimmer of hope to cross his face. Truth saw his eyes, seeing the hurt, the fury and the fear behind them. He opened his mouth again, but the surrounding dragons had begun to surge forward.
“Traitor!”
“Outsiders!”
“Guilty, guilty!”
“Kill him!”
The sun had climbed to its zenith and now poured into the clearing, filling it with a pallid glow. Rather than comforting, its heat seemed to scorch those below, fanning the flames of their righteous fury ever higher.
“Be still!” Mourn roared, but it only half worked. Although the thunder subsided, low crackles still surged through the crowd; like a fire that had burned low, or a storm that had abated. The lightning was not far off.
Truth spoke above it all, his voice low and cracking with the effort of keeping it steady.
“I came here as an outsider. I knew the accused, years and years ago, and I know him to be an honest, honourable dragon.” He drew in a deep breath. “But I cannot deny the evidence before me. We have heard testimony of the victim’s character from she who knew him best.” Here, he nodded at Morion. “And we have heard the tale of the accused, a tale of some horror that I trust will be investigated to its fullest.
“But I am here to offer judgement in only the matter at hand. And there is no argument. Zadok has admitted the murder. I must judge him guilty.”
The lightning flashed, but this time, it was in triumph, vicious and bitter. Morion threw back her head, and the glade seemed to erupt with howls and roars.
Through it all, Truth’s eyes did not waver. He looked only at Zadok - his friend, the reason he stood there today - who had raised his own head.
Zadok’s gaze was steady and sad and pierced him to the core, but Truth met it even so. He felt the pain in his head rise to a pounding crescendo; the eyes still invading him like twin needles, probing his resolve until it began to flake away. Beneath, there lay uncertainty, fear, and raw, pulsing guilt.
“Death!” screamed Morion, and the dragons behind her shrieked in echo as the condemned dragon was dragged from the court, leaving Truth and Mourn alone with the weight of the verdict.