Luminary (22 page)
Berk looks at me. He closes his eyes, lifts his chin.
Pray
. We cannot save ourselves. We cannot convince Alex of our innocence. We can do nothing. But we are not without hope.
I am reminded of a story John told me once, about three men who were thrown into a fire by a wicked king. These men were righteous, and they were sentenced to death because of that. But the Designer saved them. They did not burn. In fact, when the king looked into the fire, he saw not three men, but four. The Designer was with them.
Thank you
. Peace and calm fill me. The Designer has helped people in this position before. He will help us.
Alex leaves and the guard takes Berk, moves him to the room above. I am alone again. But I am not alone. I feel the presence of the Designer. I think of him when the guard comes in with bread and milk. He feeds me, stuffing the food into my mouth, pouring the liquid into my throat. But it is a table prepared for me in the presence of my enemy. I will not fear.
The guard leaves and I lie down. The food—the first I’ve
had in so long—makes me tired. I rest, dreaming now. Not of Helen burning and Berk rescuing, but of green pastures and still waters.
“The king is ready for you.” The guard is once again above me. “Come.”
The light is bright and the crowd is angry, but I refuse to allow fear to win. I will walk through the valley of the shadow of death and fear no evil.
I am on the platform. Berk is here too, but we are not allowed to see each other. Two guards stand between us. The king and Alex are in front of us, looking out over the crowd. The remains of the fire that consumed Helen’s body are beside us. The acrid smell of burnt flesh and the sweet smell of smoldering wood fill the air.
Hundreds of people look up at the king. No drugs are necessary to keep them quiet, to keep them subdued. The death of the princess has done that. They do not know—nor will they believe—that the princess was not the king’s daughter, that the king had his own wife murdered, Helen’s father murdered, and Helen herself murdered. If we even attempted to say those truths, the people would surely come up and kill us with their own hands. They blindly follow this king, despite his ruthlessness, his lies. He rules through a lethal combination of fear and pharmaceuticals. Like the Scientists in the State, he seeks to control his people by whatever means are at his disposal. And he justifies it with the belief that given true freedom, the people would destroy themselves.
What kind of world would I like, were I given the choice? How much power would I give people? How much power would I give the rulers? I think of the Designer and I know that no matter what, if his ways are not considered, no State or city or government will be truly successful. Even New Hope struggles to make right decisions, fights against prejudices and fear. Is perfection even possible?
I look up and see three guards standing on the city walls. They are directly above the gate. The guard in the center holds a white flag above his head. What does that mean? I look at the king and see he is watching those guards as well. He stares at the white flag for a long moment. To the people, he likely appears to be deep in thought, gazing out at the horizon, remembering his daughter.
“People of Athens.” The king breaks the silence, his voice quieter than normal. “It is not customary to hold a trial so soon after a royal funeral. But there is nothing customary in any of the events of the last few days.”
The people nod, and some wipe tears from their eyes. Many glance at where Helen had lain, compassion etched on their faces.
“This crime, however, is so heinous, these criminals so dangerous, that I felt we had no choice but to hold this trial now. With you all here, as both jury and eyewitnesses.”
The people clap, a slow, somber clap. The king accepts it, arms stretched out toward the people, a sad smile on his face.
“Today we mourn together the loss of our princess.” The king wipes a tear that does not exist from his face. The citizens see what they want in that gesture—real tears, real compassion. “And we seek to bring justice to those who killed her.”
The clapping is louder this time. The king allows it to continue for a full minute before raising his hands to stop it.
“I have stood here too often lately.” The king shakes his head. “Introducing you to the woman we believed would marry our prince. Bringing that same woman before you as a traitor and spy. Now I stand, a grieving father, once again bringing this woman, Thalli, before you as a murderer.”
The crowd utters a collective hiss, every eye on me, condemning me.
“Because of the heinousness of her crime, we will not allow Thalli to speak in her defense, nor will we allow her accomplice, Berk, to do so. We have seen they speak only lies. We have also seen that as long as they live, our lives are in danger.”
The people nod. The king once again looks out to where the white flag waves in the wind.
“I dictate death by fire.” The king motions toward the edge of the city. “Not here, where our princess was mourned, but on the outskirts. I recommend Berk burn first while Thalli watches.”
Even though I suspected this, the reality of it hits me with a force that weakens my legs. To watch Berk die—burn to death—is worse than facing my own execution.
I look up and see the white flag replaced with a black one. The king smiles so slightly, I am sure I’m the only one who notices.
“And I recommend we go immediately.” The king’s voice grows in strength. “Any objections?”
The crowd is silent.
Our deaths have been decreed.
O
ne would think that after several near-death experiences, I would no longer be moved by them.
One would be wrong.
I am walking behind the king, with a guard on each side of me, like I am a dangerous criminal who, even as she walks to her execution, is capable of one more murder. Of course, that is exactly what the king wants the crowd to think.
The reality is, I am so weak I can barely walk, much less think. I am using every ounce of energy in my body to keep going. But I will keep going. I will not die as a weakling. I will walk to my death. I will not be carried or helped in any way. The king may accuse me of the worst, but I know the truth, the
Designer knows the truth, and John has told me the truth sets me free. So I will go to my death free.
There is a commotion behind us. A guard rides up on a horse through the crowd, right up to the king. The entire procession pauses as the guard speaks in low tones and the king’s eyes lower as he hears the news. With a nod to the king, the guard returns to his horse, reverses the large animal, and rides back out the way he came. The king says nothing, but with a wave of his hand, commands the crowd to continue the march to the outskirts of town.
I do not know what was said, but it appears the king was expecting it. He did not react with anger, frustration, or impatience.
I wish I could walk with Berk, be near him. But we are separated by a dozen guards. I wonder what he is thinking. Is he wishing we had stayed in the State? Is he wondering if saving me from the annihilation chamber was worth it?
But John and Rhen are in New Hope, safe for now. They will live on, thrive, help that community. It was worth escape for that. For the extra time we had together, for the knowledge that the State was not the lone survivor of the War. There are other cities, here and in other parts of the earth, where people survived. I am glad I know that, saw that.
I feel more prepared to meet the Designer than I did in the annihilation chamber. I know him better. I have seen him more. I was ready then, but I am even more ready, even more confident in him now. He could choose to save me, like he did before. But even if he doesn’t, I believe heaven awaits. And John says there is no pain in heaven, no sadness. No separation. I want to go there.
Even the sky seems dark—unusually dark for this time of day. Like it is mourning with us. The breeze carries moisture on it. I close my eyes and allow its coolness to refresh me.
The guards around me stop. I cannot see past them. They are a wall in front of me, all much taller than I, standing shoulder to shoulder. Guards are posted behind me and beside me as well.
“Bring the prisoners to me,” the king says.
A guard beside me takes my elbow and presses me forward. The guards in front of us part, giving me a clear view of the king. And Alex. They both stand on a platform that appears newly constructed. It is made from a synthetic wood and stands only six feet off the ground. Beside that, a huge post rises from the ground. It is made of metal and real wood surrounds it. My arms burn with the thought of it. The metal pole will melt our skin long before the fire from the wood kills us. It will be an excruciating death.
And I have to watch Berk endure it before me.
Please, Father
. I pray harder than I have ever prayed before.
Do not make us suffer this. Please
.
I am standing in front of the king. He looks at me. I return his stare. He knows the truth, even if the others refuse to listen or cannot believe it. He knows exactly what he has done. And I know it too. He may kill me, but he will kill me knowing I am aware of just how evil he is.
The king looks away first. His gaze sweeps the people. “Arrogant, even in the face of death. Further confirmation that execution is necessary.”
The crowd whispers their approval.
“And where did she get these ideas?” The king’s voice rises
and falls like the waves in the ocean simulation I saw back in the State. “She got them from our enemies: the citizens of New Hope. There she and others devised how best to trick us, manipulate us, use us in an attempt to gain power over us. There she plotted our deaths. Had she been allowed to continue her plan, Alex would have been killed next. On their honeymoon, no less. And she would have returned and killed me. And then? They would make Athenians the slaves of New Hope. They would use our technology for themselves, however they saw fit. They would destroy us and our way of life. I am thankful they were caught before that happened. But I am heartbroken that my dear Helen was lost before these facts came to light.”
My heart is hammering in my chest. If the people would just think, they would see how ridiculous this is. If we planned to take over Athens, why would I have killed Helen so openly? Surely Alex sees through this. But when I look at him, I see he does not. He is blinded, either by the drugs or by love for his father or grief over his sister. Or a combination of all three.
“We see now the lengths to which these barbarians from New Hope will go to achieve their desires.” The king scans the crowd. “We see now the need to defend ourselves against them.”
Several people shout and echoes follow. The king remains silent and allows the crowd to encourage one another in their hatred for their “enemies.”
“We must stand together, then.” The king looks out at the crowd. “We must oppose them with all our might. We must protect ourselves against those who would seek our destruction.”
The crowd is no longer still. They are agitated, rocking back and forth, shaking their fists. The king accomplished his goal.
I pray for my friends in New Hope. I pray that Kristie and
Carey warned them, perhaps took them from the village to another location. Rhen can help them find another settlement. They are far away, but we traveled hundreds of miles. They can too. I know they can. I pray they escape before the king’s army comes after them.
“Tie Berk to the stake.” The king doesn’t finish the order before the crowd erupts in cheers and applause. They are desperate to see this execution. They are delighted in it. It is sickening.
Berk allows himself to be led to the metal pole. He remains still when his hands are released from the restraints and then placed around the stake. He faces the metal. The guards bind his waist and his legs to the pole so every part of him is touching it. They are maximizing the pain that will be inflicted on him.
Berk looks at me, and we say everything we can in one look. But it is short lived because the guards turn Berk’s head away from me. They will give him no solace, no comfort, no mercy in this. They force him to look at the crowd. Those people throw whatever they find at their feet toward Berk—stones, pieces of wood, clumps of dirt. Berk cannot defend himself, and he is hit in his face, his legs, everywhere.
“For the crime of murder,” the king shouts and the crowd stills. “You are sentenced to death.”
Four guards walk forward, each with a blazing torch in his hands. At the king’s command, they lower their torches to the wood. The fire catches immediately, wrapping around Berk’s feet, climbing up the pole. Berk’s body tenses. I want to close my eyes, but I cannot. I want to save him, but I cannot.
I can do nothing but watch Berk die.
A
n explosion rips through the darkening sky. It is so loud, my ears ring.
People from New Hope have come? Remnants from Gerald’s army? I am afraid and relieved at the same time. Berk is burning. Dying. I must not be rescued alone.
