Free Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) by MJ Blehart

of Sorcery will fear to tread once more.”
    *****
    The procession approached the square.  Her patience was just beginning to wear thin, and she found herself more apprehensive than she had thought she might be.  Lyrra-Sharron took firm grasp of her resolve, and moved closer to the gallows, watching the parade. 
    As she had predicted, entertainers of many sorts led the pageant.  Andim and Kallan were right behind her, ready to defend her if necessary.  The King and his ring of Guardsmen were yet to reach the square, but both men were taking extraordinary measures to avoid notice.  Being former Guardsmen, they wanted to careful not to be seen, even disguised. 
    Lyrra-Sharron was armed only with a few knives, though one of the two men behind had a rapier for her use.  Being so lightly armed only added to her discomfort.
    She observed the coming spectacle more closely.  One of the jugglers stumbled, disappearing from view for a few moments.  When he stood up and began again, no one noticed it was not the same man. 
    Lyrra-Sharron could not hide the grin that crossed her lips.  It had worked, precisely as planned.
    The drums played a tremendous marching beat, and soon the cart bearing the Sorcerer was driven up to the gallows, after circling the square twice.  Lyrra-Sharron watched closely as a group of Guardsmen, seven total, opened the cage.  The Sorcerer stood on his own, a determined, but calm look upon his face.
    She scrutinized him closely, now.  She was not so far away.  He was about average height, with long dark hair pulled back severely and tied off with a leather cord.  His face was unremarkable but handsome.  His bearing seemed surprisingly regal.  He wore simple wool garments, dark grey tunic and breeches, and plain brown leather boots.  Typical prison fare.  But it was his eyes, piercing and blue, that struck her.  They were bold, sad, and completely distant.  A man resigned to his fate.
    The drummers played out a short roll, followed by two sharp beats, which repeated.  As they did so, she looked to the end of the cavalcade, and saw King Varlock-Sharron and his Seneschal, Lord Tulock, dismounting from their horses. They quickly climbed the stairs to the top of the platform set up only a few hundred yards from the gallows.
    The jugglers continued to throw colorful balls and belaying pins, as the puppets milled about the thick crowd.  A man in a maroon cloak with a leather mask stepped up to the gallows.  The executioner. 
    King Varlock-Sharron raised his hands, and the drums abruptly stopped.  The people gathered for the hanging turned to look at the King, standing with Lord Tulock beside him and mounted guards all around.  In addition, another half a dozen guards stood behind him on the platform.
    Lord Tulock banged his staff upon the dais three times.  “My Lords and Ladies, good people of Sharron all!  Pray attend his Royal Majesty, King Varlock-Sharron Anduin.  Eleventh Sovereign of the House of Anduin, Guardian of the Kingdom of Sharron, Keeper of the Keys of Justice, General-Master of the Army of Sharron, Baron of the Anduin Province, and Second Prince of Medaelia!”
    The reaction through the crowd varied; bows, curtsies, other gestures and signs of respect.  Gritting her teeth, Lyrra-Sharron curtsied with those around her.  All attention was focused towards the dais. 
    The King took a step forward, and spoke.
    “People of Gara-Sharron: It is well known from Medaelia to Ontseer that the arte of Sorcery is forbidden in the Kingdom of Sharron.  Yet one has come to our fair lands, practicing this art in the most flagrant manner.  Today, you will witness my judgment passed.  This man, a sorcerer by his own actions, is to be hanged this day.”
    Cheers and applause followed that.  Lyrra-Sharron observed Lord Tulock clearing his throat, as a guard took his staff.  He produced a scroll, and unrolled it.  “The statutes of the Kingdom of Sharron are fair and just, to keep