Brett 4 | planet-helen-project

IV.

When they reached the kennel outside of the Justice’s hall, everything had descended into chaos. People ran through the streets in thick wads of flailing limbs and sharp objects, deer leaped from the burning stables. The thunder of hooves, the cries of stable hands, the shattering of glass and splintering of wood…
Everything was coming apart as Jun walked down the center of the street. He stepped over the body of a dead Justice, his green cloak soaked red with blood. Sana bent to retrieve his staff before continuing on with Jun. A group of Harvesters shouting their impromptu battle cry charged down the road and crashed into a man stumbling from his house in his bed clothes. Jun didn’t recognize him, but he died nonetheless. The screams of ‘For Harvesthome’ filled the air; a mantra of bloodlust and violence. A chorus of barks and whimpers rose from the burning kennel, it was a shame to kill all the hounds. They would make regrouping the deer an easier task, but they were too dangerous to keep around. The Justices had trained them to track down Woodsmen. They had the scent, and they were a force that was better off destroyed. More innocent lives that the Justices’ claim. He spat in disgust, mouth tasting of Ghielrout.
The town was shaking, the sleeping buildings came to life in the chaos. Morendo was sinking fast now, but the darkness was held at bay by the burning of torches and buildings. There were deer everywhere; the stables must have been emptied. It would take weeks to recapture them, and many would never be seen again. But such was the price of violence; Jun just hoped the Hunters would still be willing to help after all the destruction. The shape of the Justice’s Hall was distinguishable in the din of firelight, He shook his regrets and steeled his reserve.
“This is it, we have the Justices hold up inside!” Sana was like a child, the fire shining in her wide eyes. She bound off and rounded the corner of the building, urging Jun to keep up. The smell of death and burning flesh was overpowering; his eyes burnt with the smoke. So much death. The Woodsmen were clustered around the building, the main exit was blocked by a barricade of debris: sandbags, barrels, bodies. The ground was splattered red with blood, Jun thought he recognized some of the mashed faces. Both Justices and Woodsmen alike lay collapsed on the ground.
Nor Makus and Corin Mohanas were nowhere in sight.
“We caught them sleeping!” The voice rose over the din, Jore Jun charged up; his hart an elegant beast as it remained calm despite the fire. Deer made good mounts in the Queenwood but they became skittish during battle. Jore’s hart Mightyhorn was the exception. It stood tall and proud, Jore an imposing figure on the back of his charge. “They grouped and made a push for the street, but we were ready for them.” He pointed to a cluster of Woodsmen who wore slingshots on their wrists. “Yon Yelso’s idea. As they ran out we hailed them with bullets; nothing fatal but they went down in the confusion. Then it was as simple as slitting throats!” He laughed in the din of chaos. Jore was alive with delight; why wasn’t Jun?
These people are being slaughtered.
But only because they slaughtered us first. This is revenge.
No. This is Justice.
“Jore,” Sana’s voice rose above the noise. “I don’t see Nor Makus.”
“Gone. Charged off with Corin to the south. I sent a group of riders after them, but I don’t think they’ll catch.” Jore shouted an order to a passing Woodsman who ran by with an unlit torch. “There were four Justices in the stables when we fell on them. We took down two but the others got on their harts and fled south. If they reach Solstice, we could have some serious issues.”
Worse than that. If Solstice was warned of their little rebellion, their victory would be very short lived. Those two Justices had to be caught, Corin had made a smart move in pursuing. Jun just prayed that it was enough. “The rest of the Justices are either held up in the Hall, or caught on patrols. We have Woodsmen making wide sweeps of the town; if they try to run we’ll find them.” Jore pulled out his mace and dismounted from Mightyhorn, the deer moved behind the lines as if commanded. “Jun! This is going to work! We’re going to burn them out, within the hour it’ll all be over!” The man’s eyes danced in the fire. “The Justices will all be dead!”
Harver Jun wondered if it was going to be that simple. The blockade in front of the door shuddered suddenly and there was a shout from the Woodsmen. “Get down!” Jun dropped to the ground just as two Justices climbed over the debris. The whistle of missiles rang overhead as the slingshots pelted the two men trying to escape.
Jun watched from the ground as one Justice took a rock to the head and lost his footing, the other Justice tripped on a body and got caught in the storm of shot before crashing to the ground. As the two tried to regain their footing Jun saw Ellis Tuln leap into the fray, her knife shining in the fire of the nearby kennel. She pounced on the first Justice, her knife leaving two red holes in the back. Jun struggled to his feet clumsily, his head spinning with the remnants of the Ghielrout. Sana was already half way to the fray when Ellis turned her blade and jammed it to the hilt into the rising Justice’s breastbone. There was a cry and sickening pop.
The man collapsed to the ground, Ellis pulled her knife free quick as lightning. “Got em!”
Then the side of her head exploded in a shower of blood and bone. Her dead body fell limp to the ground, a cry of confusion rose from the Woodsmen. A hellish crack like thunder echoed through the valley. Sana froze mid stride. A man stepped out from behind the barricade, A dark-green half-cloak hanging from his shoulders. The Prime-Justice; Mathius Betheloo. He pointed at Sana and for a second the world seemed to freeze.
Crack.
Sana right shoulder flew back. Her knees went out from under her and she collapsed to the ground in a heap. A scream arose from the Woodsmen, Jore Jun cried for the slingers to fire; but before they could repel the assailant he turned on Jore and—
Crack.
Jore’s neck blew a chunk of flesh. He helplessly reached to the wound before dropping.
Jun watched in horror as the man quickly took in the Woodsmen, and stepped back inside.
A shooter.
Then everything came apart at the seams. A dozen Justices with wooden shields covering their faces burst from the Hall. The hail of bullets railed against their protection, and some shots shattered shins, but only two went down. When the bullets were expelled, the Justices pulled small devices off their belts.
“Everyone, spread out!” Jun yelled, his stitches pulling against his flesh. The Woodsmen were caught in a cluster, some made an effort to get out of the way but most were stuck with their hands in their pouches; reaching for more shot. The Justices hurled the ceramic balls at the group, the thin devices shattering upon impact. The liquid contained inside splashed across the Woodsmen and ground alike. Jun watched in disbelief, from inside the building poured ten more Justices; some armed with crossbows. Their grip was slipping.
It wasn’t until Jun saw the flickering of the torch that he knew.
“Charge! Charge them!” He shouted. “Charge, Charge Charge!” His screams stung his face, made his eyes water. The Woodsmen roared and ran at the Justice, slings releasing, bolts flying. Men dropped on both sides, but as the distance between the two closed Jun saw the crossbow-men throw down their weapons, reaching for staffs. They did it! “FOR HARVESTHOME!” The crash of bodies was audible, and the outnumbered Justices were thrown against the wooden wall of the Hall. In close quarters the Justices’ plans fell apart, the spread of fire and oil would only serve to kill them all.
And the Justices wouldn’t die for their cause. Only Hal had been that dedicated. Jun’s eyes stung from the smell and the heat and the smoke. There was a sound like nothing before, the sound of men being crushed under staff and stone and wall. Jun charged forward too, leaping over to Sana’s body. Her eyes were blinking; she pushed away from the fighting. Her face was covered in sweat and dirt and blood. Was it her blood?
“Shit. How…did this happen?” She cursed.
“You’ve been shot.”
“Fuck.” She smiled, “it hurts.” Her eyes were dazed but they focused on him for a moment, the green glowed brilliantly. “What the Fuck are you worried about me for? Go kill those bastards!” Her teeth were white, there was no blood in her mouth. Her lungs weren’t hit. She could survive. Jun glanced at the wound and was alarmed at how much blood she was losing. She could survive, but only if he stopped to save her. He glanced up at the fighting men, saw the flash and heard the crack. Mathius Betheloo had made it on top of a horse somehow; his shooter took down the two Woodsmen standing in his way. “Stop him! I’m fine Dammit.” Her tone wasn’t so certain.
Cries arose overhead. Jun looked up to see the Justices get smashed against the Hall, their training left them when outnumbered as they were. Once the Woodsmen got close, their knives were much more efficient than the long staffs. Woodsmen threw themselves on each other, struggling to get close enough to stab. Bodies littered the ground, Jun couldn’t count the dead. So much was resting on his shoulders, the weight threatening to crush him. There was another crack in the distance, but this one wasn’t from a shooter. The kennel collapsed in a whoosh of light and sparks flew out like a million flying flowers.
“Where’s your gut!” Jun was shouting just to be heard. Sana looked at him confused. “Where’s your gut!” She looked at her wound then reached feebly into a thin pocket on her leg. Jun glanced around and saw two Justices break free of the group, one’s arm was twisted at an odd angle but the fear in his eyes drove him on. He stumbled past Jun, not seeing him or the four Woodsmen that grabbed him from behind and dragged him to the ground. The other Justice crashed into two Woodsmen trying to intercept Betheloo. The Woodsmen regained their feet, but the horse took off into the night, faster than any hart could chase. He’s getting away! Jun had to stop him. Sana shuddered suddenly, her blood spilling to the dirt. Jun looked down at her, then back to the horse as it faded into the darkness.
No. He wouldn’t give chase. What would he do against a shooter anyway? Hit him with his broken hand? Sana needed him. He couldn’t kill Betheloo, but he could still save her.
The cluster by the door was breaking up, Woodsmen spilled into the Hall. A hart ran by, nearly trampling Sana. She finally pulled out the gut and looked at it, her breath was labored. “Lay down!” He laid her flat and took out his knife. As careful as his offhand would allow, he cut her shirt off at the shoulder; the bloodstained sleeve pulled at her arm.
Sana screamed in pain. Jun heard the chaos around him subside for a moment. As he wiped the wound clean with the sleeve he put his knee on her chest to keep her from flinching. He cursed as he drove his thumb and forefinger into the wound, digging for the shot lodged somewhere in her arm. Her eyes went wide, her mouth gaped but no sound came out. Jun pushed his fingers in further, Sana convulsed under his weight. Everything else subsided except for the red of her blood; the noise seemed to move farther away. He focused his energy into her cut, felt the inside of her shoulder; the hot blood on his hand. If he didn’t save her soon, he could very well end up killing her. Then her blood would really be on his hands.
Just as he killed his mother.
Just as he killed Hal.
For just a moment, everything disappeared and he had his fingers in Hal’s shoulder. He stared Hal deep in the eyes and saw the pain that lay beneath. It’s too late for that, Jun. Then the thought had passed. Jun jerked his fingers out, the rough shot came free followed by the flowing of red blood. “It’s not too late!” Sana’s face was white; whiter than ever before. Her lips were purple, her eyes half closed. He had to work quickly. He had to save her.
He lifted her shoulder off the ground and wrapped the sleeve around the wound. Everything was silent, only the pounding in his ears drove him on. Focus. Focus. He let up with the weight on her chest as he pulled with fabric tight with two hands. She flinched. So did he.
He had used his broken hand to bandage her.
And he didn’t feel a thing.
But soon the bandage was soaked through; it wasn’t tight enough to stop the bleeding.
She was going to die.
“Jun.” Her voice was pathetic, but he could hear it over the din. “Leave me.” It’s too late for that, Jun. “Don’t… worry…” She struggled less, her movements becoming sluggish. Jun cursed and ripped off the bandage, he struggled to thread the gut. His shaking hands making the task impossible.
“Come on!” He passed the gut, it missed the eye. “Fuck! Come on!” he slid the gut again, but it was frayed and only half passed through before pushing out again. “COME ON DAMMIT!” His hands shook, his eyes watered. Sana stared up at him with half seeing eyes. He couldn’t look into her eyes. He couldn’t look away from the needle. He had to save her.
It’s too late for that—
“Shut up!” He screamed. When would the Ghielrout fade?! “Come on, come on, come on.” Time was running out. His arm was aching from holding the needle in his broken hand. He tried to pass the gut through the needle and he knocked it from his fingers. “No!” he searched the dirt, but his tearing eyes made it impossible. In the distance, there was a dull roar. He ignored everything. He ignored the fight, ignored the pain, ignored the exhaustion from the Ghielrout. He took a deep breath and calmed himself.
“Jun.”
“Shut up. I’m not going to let you die.” He grabbed the needle through his finger tip, wiped it across her tongue to clean off the dust and raised it to his eyes. He took a deep breath, and passed the gut straight through. Relief flooded his body, and after a couple seconds he managed to knot the loop. Only then did Jun stop to realize he had no idea how to stitch a wound. He laughed, the sound bubbling to his lips in disbelief. “Fuck!”
But there wasn’t time. He stabbed the needle through one side of the wound, and passed it through the other chunk of torn flesh. Sana trembled, her bloodstained hand rising to her wound. “No!” She froze, her arm falling across her chest, her eyes closed and for a moment he thought he lost her. “Don’t you pass out on me.” He froze, her chest rose with breath. She was still alive. “Could you imagine? Years of wanting revenge, and it’d all be ruined because you’re not ‘man’ enough for a shot wound…”
A smile spread across her lips. “Go… fuck yourself… Jun.”
His memories took him back to his youth as he sewed. He remembered sitting cross legged with Hal, the insignia of the White-tree resting on the jerkin. The two joked about honor, stabbing at each others’ pride while they sewed the emblem to the right sleeve. They talked about glory, battle, and women. They jested about killing more Woodsmen, running down deer, and settling domestic disputes. They sat for a long time and sewed, with each stitch they were one step closer to their dream. With each step they grew more into men. Jun saw Hal hold his Jerkin up and stare at it, a smile of pride and excitement spread across his face. Jun saw that same face staring at him when Sana’s scythe split him between the eyes. He was saving the murderer of his youth.
The slayer of his childhood. Jun blinked and the memory faded.
When he looked at his work, and noticed he was finished. It was a mess, but the bleeding had ceased. He wrapped the blood soaked sleeve tightly around the wound and tied it with teeth and off hand. His broken arm throbbed in pain, his mind cleared a bit and the noises filled his head again. When Jun looked around he saw the bodies of Justices and Woodsmen alike propped against the Hall. Death was all around him, screams filled the air, the kennel fire raged on and everything seemed to come back into focus.
“We need to get you up.”
“Don’t… move me, you idiot. You’ll…start the bleeding again.” Sana replied lazily.
Jun glanced around. There were no Justices in sight, but if any came all his work would have been for nothing. They hadn’t won yet. “I’ll carry you.” He slid his good hand under her legs and forced his broken arm under her head. The pain was enough to make him cry out. “I can do this.”
“I didn’t say… you couldn’t.”
He bent his knees and lifted her, she was surprisingly heavy. Jun almost buckled at the effort, but the pain in his arm held. He carried her across the carnage, the bodies on the ground stared up at him with non-seeing eyes. He ignored their haunting gaze. He walked down the street, heading towards the Bounty where he knew the Woodsmen would be most secure. The light of Morendo was fading, the moon was an hour away from setting, but before that could happen Corna would be flying overhead; banishing the night. The Harvesters presence was still strong in the street, they ran from house to house doing whatever it was they were doing.
Jun only hoped that they didn’t turn on him. He prayed the Justices weren’t winning the fight.
The walk was excruciating. In his mind he imagined his arm snapping under the deadweight of his burden. He grit his teeth, the taste of blood mixing with the bitterness of Ghielrout made his head spin. When he couldn’t go on anymore he kept going. When he was about to collapse he just put one foot in front of the other. His arms burnt from the effort, his breath was ragged. He knew he wasn’t going to make it, but he forced himself onward anyway. Glass shattered behind him, a scream filled the air. A man was being dragged through the street by a rope tied around his neck. The hart pulling the rope was un-manned, the man it dragged was still alive. Jun walked faster.
A mob of Harvesters saw him walking by and they stopped to stare. Jun set his jaw and walked on, he couldn’t falter, not with them looking on. He stiffened his resolve and pushed through the crowd, they parted before him. Blood dripped off his chin where the stitches had pulled out, dripping on the front of Sana’s shirt. She looked so peaceful, so different. Her scowl was gone, replaced by the blank expression of unconsciousness. She had passed out, and though her breath was short he knew she was alive. The onlookers didn’t seem so sure.
“It’s him.”
“The liberator!”
The Harvesters pushed closer, Jun stared on; trying his best not to collapse.
“It’s Harver Jun!” “He’s alive!” “Praise the Horizon, I can’t believe my eyes!”
The worship washed over him. He should say something, encouraging words. He should give a speech; motivate the people to continue the fight. But his instincts drove him on. He needed to get Sana to the Bounty. He needed to get her to safety. In the distance, Jun heard a loud crack. Sweat beaded down his cheek, the image of Jore Jun’s neck exploding reverberated inside his skull. The Harvesters heard it too, looking frightened. The Justices were still at large.
Jun had to do something, they were more important than Sana.
“People of Harvesthome! This is the eve of our freedom! This is the day of our liberation!” He continued to walk on, not slowing despite his shortness of breath. Some Harvesters ran with him, all watched in awe as he passed. “The enemy will try to force you to submission! They will kill your family and call it Justice! They will steal your rights, and call it retribution! They would chain you in slavery forever, but we will not allow this.”
Finally his feet found the steps of the Bounty, he nearly tripped going up the steps. He tasted blood in his mouth; it woke him up, cleared his thoughts. His arms were numb so he turned for a moment and looked out over the mob. The first light of Corna shot over the Horizon, the brilliant rays blinding him; but he stared out nonetheless. Illuminated in the Cornath day, Harver Jun stood before them, his voice was food to their hungry souls. “Today is the day we show them what Justice really means!
“Starting today, Harvesthome answers to no one!
“We are the dawn of a new generation. From here on we are all Cornath born!
“And we will fight until our light fades!
“We will bring Justice to Orphan and liberate Helen from all tyranny!”
The inside of the Bounty had been converted into a field hospital, and the sounds of the dying had replaced the sounds of the intoxicated. Stools were removed; tables were emptied and covered with cloth. People lay in various conditions around the room. Jun didn’t stop to look, but the violence had been bad. To make things worse most of the wounded were Harvesters. How could this have happened? He placed Sana’s limp body on a clear table, struggling to get his broken arm out from under her dead weight. Covered in blood and dust and ash Jun collapsed to the floor. He tried to catch himself but the room spun, and he had to focus on not throwing up.
People were around him instantly; strong hands pulled him to his feet and helped him over to the bar. Jun fought to stay awake, his body threatened to collapse. He had been pushed to the limit, but there was still so much to be done. On the table next to Sana, a Gatherer he didn’t recognize was pulled long splinters from a Woodsman’s leg. The man was either unconscious, or dead, but didn’t move during the procedure. The room stank of death, blood pooled under the tables where the wounded lay. On the other side of the room a woman cried out in anguish as a limp body was pulled off the table to make room for another one limping in. The woman tried to clutch to the body, but two Woodsmen held her back. She screamed, people watched.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Jun forced himself to his feet and found himself approaching the woman. “That’s enough, let her go.” The Woodsmen looked up at him in confusion as if trying to decide whether to listen of not. “We’ve lost enough tonight, let her be with her loved one.” The men looked at each other and then resigned their struggled. The lady pushed passed and ran outside to her husband, without any gratitude. Did he expect any? None of these people would have died if the Woodsmen hadn’t attacked Harvesthome.
Why should he have their gratitude?
He shook his head, and the thought along with it. No. This had to be done. Until this morning the Harvesters weren’t really living. He had given them all freedom, even if that freedom came with a cost. The limping man was set on the table, and two Harvesters saw to him immediately. Jun looked at the figure, somehow his memory was tickling him. He knew this man.
Dor Wels.
A Justice.
He was dressed in civilian clothes, though they were ripped and bloodied. He held a hand to his chest, were blood had dried between his fingers. Jun watched the dying man and wondered who’s blood it was. Was it Ellis Tuln? Jore Jun? Or was it the hundreds of lives that the Justices have oppressed throughout the generations? Was it the blood of his mother? Was it the blood of Sana Lanson? The girl working on his leg left the table to go retrieve hot water and a sewing kit.
Dor Wels was left alone. Harver Jun found himself standing above the defenseless Justice. A warm cloth was laid across his brow, the man moaned in discomfort; it was apparent that his shinbone was cracked under his skin. Jun thought for a moment before delicately removing the cloth from the man’s eyes. Dor looked up at him in confusion, which shifted to recognition, then switched to horror.
“Hello Dor.” Jun placed his hand on the man’s shin and pressed lightly. Dor grimaced, a stifled cry raising from his lips. “How nice to finally reunite like this!” Tears dropped from the other man’s eyes.
“Please—”
Jun pressed harder, the man cried out. “How long as it been? Seven years? No wait, it hasn’t been that long…Wasn’t it... Yes. Just last season.” The man was sweating now, his face turning red. Jun let off for a moment and Dor seemed to gain control of himself. He was a sweaty, crying, miserable wretch; and Jun hated him for it. “You don’t remember do you?”
“Please, don’t.” Jun pushed. The man cried out. There were people gathered around Harver Jun, their eyes wide in horror. “I don’t remember I don’t! Please I’m a changed man! Please!”
“Last season? Come now, that’s not too far off. You were in the Queenwood with some Gatherer’s, pulling some ‘Sol-fruit’.” Jun paused, everyone held their breath. “You were keeping watch, remember? So headstrong and cock-sure! Calling out to the woods, daring us to come and face you.” Jun smiled his wicked smile, Dor looked away. “You know something funny?! We weren’t going to attack you. But your insults were pretty colorful. You called us cowards, remember that?”
Dor remained silent, so Jun urged him.
“Yes! Yes. Yes I remember.” The man was pathetic, a Justice of the lowest kind. A coward.
“So you ran at the first sight of us, you took off back to Harvesthome; with the other Justice on your heels. Excuse me if I can’t supply his name, I didn’t recognize the back of his head.”
“Please!” Dor reached up and grabbed Jun’s collar feebly. “Please don’t kill me. I’m defenseless!” The words were hollow, filled with fear and empty of hope. Jun’s smile vanished.
“Just like the Gatherers that you abandoned.” There was a silence that followed, a silence that was penetrated by the moans of the dying. For an instant the image appeared in his mind, the Gatherers formed up. They were standing strong, skinning knives in their hands ready to die for the good of Harvesthome. Jun remembered the resolution in Hyatt Mejini’s eyes. “They stood up to us. We outnumbered them, carried bigger sticks, and still they faced us with courage and bravery.” Everyone around was listening now, so he raised his voice a little. “Hyatt Mejini was the Prime Gatherer at the time. Do you know what he said to me? ‘If you let us go, we will remember you for the rest of our lives. But if you keep us we will fight to our deaths.’ Hyatt knew he was going to die, but he didn’t run!” Jun punctuated each word with a smack to the shin. Dor cried out in anguish. “So we took them in. We told them that we weren’t there to kill them. We told them that the Woodsmen weren’t barbarians at all, that we were just Gatherers from a different time. We told them that we rejected the oppression of a Justice system that turned its back on its people.
“And they came with us. Willingly. All because of you.”
The silence followed again, Jun didn’t bother to look around but he could feel the tension swelling in the room. This was a pivotal moment, the support of many hinged on his next actions. Jun withdrew his knife, this was the moment of truth. “For generations the Justice system has neglected the single duty that they were created to uphold: they neglected to keep us safe. They fought on the side of the oppressors, and instead of defending their own people, they forced them to work hard and give their livelihood away to strangers.” There was overwhelming support from the crowd; Jun wondered if these people even knew Dor had been a Justice. How many others would survive the night?
“But these men were once our family. They were a part of us, just as the past was once a part of us. I take no joy in my actions. I wish that no one had to die, that these people could be spared. That they could see the truth of their injustice and change their ways.” Jun turned back to Dor, who stared at him with wide eyes. “But this man is not for me to judge.
“You all must decide. Does he live, or die?”
Dor’s eyes went wide; Jun thought he smelt urine. “No! Please! You can’t! I’m not who I was before!” The man quivered under the gaze of the others. “I want to change! I don’t want to be a Justice anymore! Please give me a chance! I can prove it to you!” His words were shaky, choked back behind tears. Jun closed his eyes to the silence that followed, “please.”
“Kill him.” The words were gruff, familiar. Deon.
“He abandons his post, then begs for his life?!”
“He’s a coward!” “He left them to die!”
“We can’t trust him! We can’t trust any of them!”
“Kill them all!” The cries rose from the angered Harvesters. Jun felt a pang of sorrow, how long have they lived without hope? Dor Wels was a coward and a traitor, and he deserved to die. But we was naïve, he was as innocent as the dogs that the Justices used to hunt down Woodsmen. He was misguided, he wasn’t responsible. Jun knew what he was doing; he knew he was manipulating people into sacrificing their lives.
But the people had spoken, and Jun held the knife.
“No! No you can’t!” Dor begged as Jun looked down at him. “You! You were a Justice once too! You were a Justice and now you’re a Woodsmen! How can you kill me?! You hypocrite! You think you can get people to follow you?! You are tainted with this curse as well! How can you judge me?! You’re a coward just like the rest of us!” His words lashed out quickly, Jun couldn’t falter.
The knife came down into Dor’s stomach. The man grimaced, the rage in his eyes melted into fear. Then desperation, turned to disbelief. The disbelief resolved into acceptance. Jun leaned close as if to say a prayer of sending, but instead he whispered:
“Dor Wels, you are the wisest man alive. I didn’t deserve to live, but here I am. The Woodsmen spared me, and why I cannot say. But I have been given a second chance, I’ve been forgiven my crimes and I have atoned for my sins. And I won’t stop until every single oppressor in Orphan is silenced.” Jun stared the dying man in the eyes. “I thank you. You have given me something to consider. Am I right to lead these people? Am I a hypocrite? Isn’t the truth that I am the worst traitor of them all?
“I swore an oath to protect these people, as a Justice. I have not forsaken that oath.
“I still protect these people; the truth has just given me perspective.
“I protect them from monsters like you.” Jun leaned back, Dor’s eyes didn’t follow. He was dead. No one cheered, no one thanked him. They just stared with bitterness in their eyes, hatred in their hearts. This wasn’t revenge. This wasn’t enjoyable.
This is what had to be done.