Chapter 343

343 A Mother’s Wrath

***CONTENT WARNING: LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, AND GORE***

Doctor Drius examined the dagger that Malcolm had dropped with a critical eye. The blade was long and thin, just like the stab wound, but what had caught his eye was the hilt. The post-mortem bruising marks matched the the unique shape of Malcolm’s dagger.

Turning around to look at the man, Doctor Drius asked; “Where did you get this?”

Malcolm flustered as he internally panicked. The dagger was his father’s, and was a family heirloom. Only a few knew about it, and Murdoc was one of them..

“That be his great-grandfather’s shiv. He’s bragged about it at Mead Hall on occasion,” Murdoc commented right as Malcolm had the thought.

“There’s thousands of blades like that one! It doesna prove shit!” the elder practically wailed.

Doctor Drius held up the blade for all to see as he spoke; “Actually, I’m positive that this is the blade that killed the guard. See how long and thin the blade is?! See the unique curve of the hilt’s edges?! These marks match the stab wound perfectly!”

As angry murmurs started to fill the room, Malcolm yelled; “Yer gonna tell me that not a single RMC member has a dagger like that?! I call bulshi-”

Tidas stepped forward with a confident expression; “I can tell you right now that they don’t. Alconian daggers have broader blades that yours, and the hilts are always bigger than this..”

.....

“Most are made for ornamentation after receiving accommodations. Others are for practical use, but the style of our blades aren’t like this. You can check the hilts on the Generals’ personal guards. Alconian blades don’t look like that..”

“So ye have personally seen Every blade that yer men carry?! If not, then how can ye say that fer sure?!” Malcolm bellowed with indignation.

Doctor Drius put his arm down as he walked over to stand in front of the accused; “I am the one sayin’ that it’s Your blade that killed him. It matches the mold that Skye took perfectly-”

“Ye let Her do it?! No wonder Ima bein’ framed! She probably made it look like me blade on purpose!”

Skye walked over calmly to stand next to the good doctor; “First off, how could I have known what yer blade looked like? I’ve never seen it. Secondly, there’s somethin’ that’s yet ta be addressed: where are the explosives?”

Malcolm’s expression dropped; “What? They should be in evidence-”

“There are no explosives in ta be found. Not even residue.. So where are these explosives that ye claim to have seen?” Gavin stated as he came into the room with Amara and Petrie.

Amara walked in behind him, looking gracefully pissed. She moved through the crowds like she was gliding, her copper-colored hair flowing all around her as she glared at Malcolm..

Stopping in front of him, Amara locked eyes with him as she said; “Ye reached too far this time, Malcolm.. You were a member of the Council! Charged wit the welfare of our people, and ye Killed one of ’em!”

Amara grabbed the collar of his shirt and got in his face as she continued; “”Why?! Did he refuse ta go along wit yer plan?! Or was he just a loose end ta tie up?! Is that what ye would’ve done ta Mickey if he woulda came back alive?!”

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Malcolm froze, stunned and confused at Amara’s words. He hadn’t seen Mickey, so he’d just assumed he was steering clear of the scandal to save his own arse. If he was dead, then..

“So the mastermind is dead? Then I can speak the truth.. Mickey was the one ta plan the whole thing!”

The room erupted as fury burned in Amara’s eyes. She knew what he was trying to do, and she would roast him alive before she let him drag Mickey’s memory through the mud..

Lifting her hand up, Amara created a small, bright-blue flame in the palm of her hand. The entire room went silent as they watched her stare down Malcolm with a searing hatred that gave chills to those not even on the receiving end of it.

Taking a step towards him, Amara spoke with death in her voice; “Tell the truth, or I Swear I’ll turn ye into a pile of Ash!”

Malcolm flinched at her harsh tone, but maintained his story; “It tis the truth! Mickey threatened me! He told me that if I didna help him, he’d kill me! He told me ta kill the guard, and plant the gauntlet that he stole on ’em while he was away! So it couldna be tied back ta him!”

“FUCKING LIAR!” Petrie screamed as he rushed forward, and punched Malcolm squarely in his nose.

The bastard howled in pain as Petrie screamed at him; “YOU threatened HIM! Ye said that ye’d kick me family out of our house if he didna help ye! Ye used me and mine against me best friend! Now he’s dead! It’s yer fault! I’ll Kill You!”

Petrie lunged at Malcolm, but Murdoc and Tidas caught him by his arms before he could reach his target.. But he still got a good kick in right where no man wants to be kicked.

Malcolm instantly dropped to the ground, coughing and gasping as the two pulled Petrie away from him. As he laid crumpled up on the ground, Amara walked over to him, and stared down at him with the fireball still in her hand.

As she spoke, Amara’s every word dripped with animosity; “Did ye not know? Mickey wrote us a letter ta Petrie and me.. Sayin’ how sorry he was that he let You take advantage of his hate. That You would try ta frame the Alconians for damagin’ the dam..”

As Amara inched closer to him, the roiling fury in her eyes intensified; “You tried ta get him ta steal from Gavin.. Ye had him doin’ all yer dirty work fer this, didn’t ya? So ye could pin it all on him if everyone wasn’t as Stupid as ye thought they were!”

“Did ye really think people would buy yer bullshit wit me not around?! If it wasna fer you, Mickey might still be alive!”

Malcolm began to panic as Amara’s flame grew in size and intensity; “I didna kill him! The Monster in the North did! Ye canna blame me-”

“Oh, I blame You! Ye might not’ve ended his life yer self, but ye were gonna.. All the circumstances leadin’ up to this point have all been shaped by You.. And most importantly: the monster’s not here fer me ta take me grief out in, but You Are!”

Right as she’d finished speaking, Amara dropped the ball of flames on Malcolm’s foot..

He screamed as the flames melted his shoe, them his flesh and bones. Within seconds, his toes were gone, and the flame was gradually making it’s way up to his ankle. Slowly turning his entire foot to ash as Amara kept the flame’s progression to a torturously slow pace.

Highlanders were screaming at her as RMC members cautiously grabbed weapons, and readied their magic. Several facets were turned on as Skye gingerly walked towards Amara..

“I wouldn’t mind seein’ him roasted, but I think yer people expect ye ta keep a cool head about this. There’s no forgiving him, but he needs ta be punished, not murdered. If ye take his life now, Yer no better than he is.”

Amara glared at Skye; “Mickey was like a son ta me! He deserves ta burn! He deserves ta Suffer! Mickey was all I had left of me boyo..”

“And how would Mickey feel about ye gettin’ locked up fer murder wit his name on yer tongue as justification? Come on, Amara.. Yer better than this scumbag, so prove it. At the very least, he ain’t gettin’ that foot back.”

Skye gently put her hand on Amara’s shoulder, which was shaking with her pent-up emotions. Her heart ached for her friend as tears streamed down her cheeks. As Amara sniffled, she slowly lowered her hand, making the flame go out.

Malcolm was screaming in pain, and rolling around on the floor. Skye could’ve taken his pain away, but that’s why she was a healer, and not a doctor.. ‘I don’t have ta follow that hippocratic oath..’

With a huff, Doctor Drius had a couple men restrain Malcolm so he could treat him. The RMC members gave bandages and antibacterial agents to the good doctor, but not pain relievers. As far as they were concerned, the bastard could writh in agony until he passed out, which he did.

Murdoc ordered him taken to their jail, which Amara protested. She wanted him tried and hung right then and there, but ultimately Petrie convinced her to handle it their usual way. A jury certified to have no immediate connection with any of the court’s participants would reside over the trial.

It was ironically one of the things that the Highlanders had learned from watching courtroom dramas. In order to keep the jury unbiased, they were selected at random, then screened for any affiliations to those participating in their assigned trial. It kept any jury tampering to a minimum, and helped to avoid manipulative situations, like with what happened to Mickey.

Neither their family members, or known affiliates could have any prior connection to the judge, lawyers, or defendant. Which would make it difficult to find a jury pool for Malcolm. He owned quite a few chunks of residential properties, not to mention all of those he interacted with as a Councilor.

As Murdoc thought about how best to approach the trial, Skye and Tidas walked up with Amara, Gavin, and Petrie. Klaus, Ronnie, Kari, Ralph, and Arthur were all standing nearby to hear what was being said..

Amara crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at her King; “Why do we have ta wait?! We’ve got the evidence! Let’s just string ’em up and be done wit him!”

Murdoc sighed heavily; “Because he’s a Council member! He’s gotta have a proper trial so the people keep faith in us. How do ye think they’re gonna handle findin’ out that he tried ta frame the Alconians? If not done right, it could lead ta chaos!”

Amara narrowed her eyes on him; “I don’t give two fucks about that! Did ye know Mickey wrote us a letter?”

“Na, the morticians found it when they stripped him. Murdoc doesna know,” Skye intervened, taking the edge off of Amara’s ire a bit.

Petrie stepped forward with a sad expression; “He wrote sayin’ how sorry he was fer it all, and that he just couldna bring himself ta steal from Gavin. He wrote down some details about Malcolm’s dam plot, and apologized fer stealin’ the gauntlet.”

As they talked about Mickey’s letter, a group of RMC soldiers went outside to both feed Zazzy, and check that the snow mobiles had been taken back by the Highlanders. The snow was piling up now, and if it wasn’t for their pre-made paths, it’d be impossible to go out.

As the group broke into two, one of the soldiers assigned to feed Zazzy disappeared for a few moments. When he re-emerged, the others asked where he’d gone..

“Just ta piss,” he replied, but it was a lie.

Zazzy had watched the man tie something to the antler of a deer, then come back right away. It didn’t register with her that it was something bad until the others were heading inside, and the man stopped to say; “Good thing you can’t talk. I’d have to kill you if you could.”

As the man walked off, Zazzy growled low as she made a mental note to tell her parents what she saw..