Wizard of Jatte by Rowan Erlking (librera reader txt) 📕

“No.” Theissen shook his head hard. “He was trying to hurt Milrina.”

“You are going to kill him!” his father said.

Theissen blinked. Then he turned with a jerk, staring at Lonse who was splayed on the ground clutching his own neck; the boy’s back growing rigid as it arched with horror. The boy’s face was blue now.

“Open his throat now!” his father shouted. The carpenter shoved his son over towards Lonse.

Theissen’s whole body shook as he walked the rest of the way to Lonse. Lonse tried to pull away from him, but he could barely move, staring up with terror on his face. Crouching down onto his knees, Theissen reached over with a trembling hand, touched Lonse’s neck then he withdrew it as if he had just stuck his hand into a fire. He clutched it, staring at it with his own look of shock. Almost instantly Lonse drew breath, long and dragging.

Right away the carpenter relaxed.

“I’ll get you,” Lonse hissed out through wheezing breaths as he glared at Theissen who had not retreated much farther than arms-reach.

“What’s going on over there? Someone reported hearing screams.” A sheriff climbed through the underbrush stopping as soon as he saw them.

Lonse scrambled on all fours over the grass and sticks to the sheriff. Theissen hadn’t moved though. He was still shaking, staring at his hands and nothing else.

The carpenter rose, straightening his back and lifting his chin. “Screams? Was someone screaming?”

“I was,” Milrina said, raising her hand, hiding behind the carpenter as if Lonse would attack her again. Theissen still hadn’t moved.

“He tried to kill me!” Lonse said as he grabbed the sheriff’s leg, gasping and pulling himself up to his feet. He raised his finger to point right at Theissen.

Theissen lifted his gaze from his hands. His face was ash white, looking likely to faint even.

“Is this true?” the sheriff asked, taking at step towards the carpenter with a stern look.

Tolbetan took a step back from the sheriff. Retreating towards Hunter who was sniffing Theissen with a strangely worried look in his dog eyes, Tolbetan peered at his little brother also. Hunter made a small whine, leaning his dog head on Theissen’s knee. Theissen still had not moved.

The carpenter lowered his head. “The boys had a disagreement. However, no harm has been done.”

“He tried to kill me! He made it so I couldn’t breathe!” Lonse shouted again and still tugging on the sheriff’s pant leg.

“You nearly killed Hunter!” Milrina shouted back.

Tolbetan waved a hand in front of Theissen’s face, leaning over to see a reaction. His brother blinked then turned his head.

“I almost killed him,” Theissen said.

The sheriff raised his eyebrows. “He admits it?”

The carpenter turned to block him. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

Theissen shook his head, still staring ahead with that horrified expression in his eyes. “He hurt Milrina. Said bad things. I wanted to stop him for good. I almost killed him.”

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Theissen looked up. It was not his father. The sheriff stared down on him with a frown. “I’m afraid you will have to come in with me.”

“But he was protecting me!” Milrina shouted back, stomping her foot then chased after them. “Lonse was hurting me!”

Lonse cast a glare at her, his mouth curling up with a justified look on his lips, but that stopped when he felt a similar hold on his neck.

“You are coming too.”

The shoemaker’s son stared up at the sheriff, his eyes suddenly widening. “No! It’s his fault! He is the thief! He—”

“Someone heard a girl screaming. A witness has been made against you. You are coming with me,” said the sheriff.

Lonse fought to get out of his hold, but the sheriff’s grip clamped down harder. The sheriff dragged both Lonse and Theissen out of the thicket, back through the trees and onto the road. Tolbetan, Milrina and the carpenter followed them, the dog whimpering as he trotted right behind the heels of the sheriff as if to beg him to free Theissen.

“Where are you taking my son at this moment?” The carpenter chased the sheriff with long strides down the hill road. Tolbetan and Milrina followed as quickly as possible to keep up, though more heads turned when they hurried through the village.

Soberly nodding to him, the sheriff, took one glance at Theissen. The boy had come willingly, his head down and his hands in front of him as if still contemplating what he had just done, though it was more likely he was just looking at the scars on his palms.

“I will be placing them in the sheriff house until the trial can be called. I suggest you gather your witnesses for your side to make your plea. Attempted murder is a serious crime.”

“And self defense?” the carpenter asked.

Theissen looked up, blinking at the man he most admired and hoped would save him.

The sheriff answered the carpenter with a grim reply. “I’m afraid that is not considered a legitimate plea when one child has used a weapon.”

“Is his magic a weapon?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“And what of defending a loved one? Surely there is a plea for that?” The carpenter sounded desperate looking to his son with a great deal more than pity.

Lonse growled, jerking to get loose, but he was also crying. Perhaps the sheriff was pinching a bit harder than required. Theissen had made no noise though the dog seemed to do enough of that for them both.

“There may be a case for that. However, since it is the word of one against the other, you cannot guarantee that the council will judge your boy so kindly. After all, he is a repeat offender.”

“Not in stealing,” the carpenter snapped.

“A crime is a crime,” the sheriff said, and he continued on his way towards the center of the village.

Word spread quicker than wildfire through Lumen. Even people from neighboring villages came in that evening for the trial against the young wizard and the inconsequential shoemaker’s son. All that really mattered was the word murder, which echoed around the place like the word demon often had when rumors of them in the forests came around.

Theissen stood within the accused circle before the judges like before, only this time he wasn’t alone. Lonse stood next to him, but more than arm’s distance away eyeing the doors and the people like a frightened animal. Families on both sides brought witnesses this time, the carpenters well prepared to defend their son, and shoemakers just as determined to free their boy.

“All silence for the village elders!” the bailiff called loud. The gossip was at an extreme pitch. It only hushed when he spoke.

The oldest of the elders stood somewhat to keep their attention and spoke in a rasping whisper so that silence became adamant to hear a word he said. “Two boys stand accused. Lonse Jergald Nomei Shoemakerson and Theissen Darol Mukumar Carpenterson. Let the sheriff make his report.”

The law officer that had found them in the thicket stepped forward then bowed to the elders before turning to bailiff.

“I had received word that some screaming could be heard from the woods just near the Weaver’s home so I went to investigate. As I traveled up the road, others told me the same, pointing up the hill, telling me they saw the young Carpenterson go to investigate the screams also, apparently on errand as they had seen a basket in his hands. However, when I crested the hill, I saw neither boy nor basket, and I heard no screams. However, I did hear some shouts from an older man calling out. Saying, and I quote: “You are going to kill him.” After that, I rushed into the trees and discovered an unusual scene. I saw blood upon the ground and a dog with half its face covered in it, though it looked perfectly fine all otherwise. I saw a girl crying, covered in dirt and her dress torn. I also saw the shoemaker’s son lying on the ground, gasping with a rather blue face, clutching his throat as that Carpenterson pulled back his hand. The Carpenter was a little ways off with his other son and daughter looking distressed. This is what I witnessed upon arrival. From there, the accusations began, therefore I decided to bring them here.”

“And what are the accusations?” the village elders asked.

Bowing his head, the sheriff replied, “The shoemaker’s son accused the carpenter’s son of attempted murder. And the weaver’s daughter accused the shoemaker’s son of assault and attempted murder of their dog. Her witness was added to by the carpenter’s son, who said the shoemaker’s son also used abusive language towards the girl.”

“Did they make any pleas of defense?”

With a nod, the sheriff said, “The carpenter claimed it was a small altercation between the boys, already resolved without harm. The shoemaker’s son made no pleas in his defense, but no admittance of guilt either. The carpenter’s son, however, did admit to nearly killing the shoemaker’s son.”

A gasp spread throughout the hall. The bailiff silenced it with a gesture or tried to.

“The carpenter also made a plea that his son acted to protect his cousin, who was the one who claimed to be screaming.”

More murmurs.

The sheriff stepped back. “This is my report, though I would also like to make an observation.”

“Proceed.”

He looked over at the two boys. Theissen hung his head. Lonse did also, but his eyes were shifty and his hunched posture was more like an animal cornered.

“I would like to attest that one boy fought when I apprehended them. I believe that the guilt is on both sides. However, I also believe that only one of the boys is penitent for what has been done and therefore judgement should be given lightly upon him, even if he is a repeat offender,” he said.

The carpenter sighed with some relief.

Some of the village elders smiled. “Noted.”

“First witness?” the bailiff asked.

Milrina practically stomped to the front. She had never been a timid child.

Pointing at Lonse, she practically shouted, “He is a bad boy! He hurt me and tried to touch me in a bad place! Then he hurt Hunter, our dog. Hunter would have died if Theissen had not come and saved us.”

She gave her foot another stomp.

“Is that all?” the village elder asked, gazing down on her somewhat severely.

She cowered only slightly. “It is.”

“Then you may step back. Counter argument?” The elder looked towards Lonse and then his parents since Lonse just stared at the ground.

The shoemaker stepped forward with a firm yet grim nod. “Yes. I would like to attest that these children may have been merely playing together, and this girl who is prone to exaggeration and dramatic demonstration may have simply let her imagination get away from her. As the sheriff said, the dog did not die. In fact, he is walking quite well. Look at him.”

“Yes,” said the sheriff. “But he was bloody.”

“Then look,” the shoemaker pointed to Lonse’s arm. “My son has a bite, surely the cause of the blood. Their dog is savage. It bit my son. I believe the girl screamed because of what she saw and then made up a lie to cover it up.”

“That is a lie!” Theissen and Milrina both shouted.

The village elders stared. One gestured to the bailiff who reached out his staff and shoved Milrina back into the group standing for the defense. He then pushed Theissen’s back to keep him on his side of the accused circle. The boy peered up at him, remembering very well that this man was the same one who had sliced open his hands.

“Is that all you have to say regarding this matter?” the oldest village elder asked the shoemaker.

The shoemaker bowed his head. “In this subject, yes. I believe that my son was merely playing, and the carpenter’s boy and the weaver’s daughter forged this lie to get revenge for an altercation outside their school this afternoon.”

“Yes, we heard about that,” one of the elders said,