The Collectors of Peyka

Chapter 5

My chest tightened into a hiccup, and when I tried to swallow, I had the image of a dagger dragging across the back of my throat surface in my mind. Alto couldn't move. He didn't say anything, but I knew he was worried about his part in the mix-up. It wouldn't fall on his shoulders, though. It was me who condemned the wrong person to die.

"You killed our chieftain, Alayna!" Galen shouted from across a pile of logs. The ceremonial bonfire hadn't been lit yet, but I was certain that if it had, the whole predicament might have been worse for the boy. I knew the type of lasting trauma a fire could cause.

"I've done no such thing." She was calm, but when she folded her arms, her muscles flexed through the slits in the arms of her tunic. It was designed for the image, much less for combat. But it wouldn't matter. He was just a boy and she was the commander. She could strike him down before he ever summoned his father's sword.

"You had someone kill him for you, then. Why?" I had to admire Galen. For as young as he was, he was good at mustering the courage to sound like a leader. His voice didn't even quiver when he spoke to her.

"The elders told a tale of a young boy that had an uncanny obsession with fire. The same obsession that set Bainbrook ablaze last week and killed one-hundred innocent villagers. The bodies of merchants, farmers, and young children wasted away with the cinders." She stopped to smirk. She wasn't phased by the mention of death, and when Galen squirmed, it ignited something sadistic in her face. "If that boy would've acted with a little restraint, or maybe even a little accountability, the right blood would've been shed."

"It- it was an accident," he stammered. His composure collapsed in the realization that it was his fault. He had an opportunity to come forward and submit. They all do. No matter who he wanted to blame, it should've been him to die. "My father played no part in those fires."

"Then you've come before the capital to admit to your transgressions?" Alayna said with a cock of her head. It was my turn to squirm. She was toying with him as a wolf did with a lamb. "Step forward and accept your fate. Your people do not have to die here today."

"And what of the murderous fiend that wrongly committed crimes against your just law?" The way he said it packed more venom then Mayilda's plants. It seemed out of place to come from such a premature mouth. "You say your collectors only kill those deserving of their fate. My father was a good man. He obeyed the law. What did he get for it?"

"I'm afraid I don't know who was put in charge of your collection." She shrugged and paced over to the pile of logs. She stopped and kicked a stray stick into the center. "The elders give me the vials and I deliver them. I have no need to read the scrolls."

"If that's the case," Galen started. He lifted his hand and waited. A pale man with a bundle of cloth came charging from the shadows of the tents. He was defenseless and scrawny, but when he threw his package across the dirt, a sword sprung free and thudded at Alayna's feet. She didn't offer him an expression, but I caught the clenching of her left fist. "The traitor left their sword behind. I'm sure this should suffice as evidence."

Everyone in Peyka knew that sword. The long white blade serrated at the end was carved from human bones. The hilt was a piece of the commander's throne, a gift given only to those that she hand-selected. A red gem from the mines outside of Peyka was engraved at the base, where a thin chain strapped around the handle to make for a better grip, should your hands get too slick from battle. I could sketch that sword from memory, and I was a bigger fool than anyone for leaving it behind.

It didn't matter if Alayna wanted to keep up her ruse. Everyone in the village sought me out with their eyes, and when Galen turned to follow, he fixed a snarl in my direction. It reminded me of the time Alto and I pushed Begley to his breaking point. We had called him names until he was a blubbering mess, and then we punished him with lashes until he promised he'd never do it again. That was two years ago and we hadn't seen him cry since. The only reaction one could get from him was a silly snarl that made him more childish than frightening. It was what the commander would expect from all of us.