Kimbr closed her eyes and began unlacing her gown. She could feel the guard’s eyes devouring her body from behind his barbute as the gown dropped to the floor. The drop of tear that had been sitting in the corner of her eyes, finally rolled down her cheek as she felt her resolve disappearing.
“Wear this,” the guard handed her an old dirty tunic, the official garb of a prisoner of Indius.
Kimbr donned the tunic over her naked body, leaving her legs completely unclothed. Gooseprickles rose on her thighs as she felt the cold damp air on her skin. The tunic smelled of vomit and blood, and other things which Kimbr did not want to imagine. She just stood staring at the ground for a little while, before raising her eyes and speaking in a whisper, “ask Bernard to visit me, if it can be arranged.”
The knight nodded but did not move. He seemed to be enjoying the look of Kimbr’s legs.
“Now leave me alone.” Kimber glared at the guard.
“I apologize. It is not every day that a commoner like me gets to look at a princess’s legs,” the guard sniggered, and then turned and left, locking the gate behind him and leaving Kimbr standing alone in the dimly lit confines of her cell, and as the sound of his footsteps faded away, the princess finally broke down and started crying hysterically.
∞∞∞
Sad, misty eyes filled with despair and devoid of hope had been staring at her for hours, and there was nothing she could do about it. She had tried to meet their gaze, but the misery on their face was too much for her to withstand, and so she had averted her eyes and surrendered to observing the random scurrying of the two rats that shared the cell with her. She watched as they chased after one another, trying to nibble at stones and walls, hoping to find a dead insect that they could share. Their search for food reminded Kimbr that she too had not eaten anything since she had broken her fast in the morning. For the past few days, Kimbr had not been feeling very excited at the prospect of food, as the stress of waiting for Olver had made her lose interest in some of the worldly charms of life, like tasting the exquisite food prepared in the kitchens of Wilder Keep, but now hunger began tormenting her, and suddenly she started noticing the rats in a different light.
No, surely it won’t come to that. Krastin won’t starve me to death. Although Olver had also said he loved the kingdom and the family name, and how wrong did that turn out to be?
The rats suddenly lost interest in the dust-covered walls and floor of the cell and scurried over to where Kimbr sat with her legs pulled in to her chest. The bigger one with greyish hair and a long curly tail tried to climb up her leg and only relented in his efforts when Kimbr kicked him away. The smaller rat with a shiny black coat took an interest in Kimbr’s tunic which already appeared to have been ravaged by an army of rats. The silence around Kimbr was so great that she could hear the animal nibbling on the cloth, biting away in a frenzy.
The dust covered floor she sat on, the scrawny dying men and women staring at her from their cells, the rats munching on her clothes, and the silence that pressed around her like a bodice around a fat body, was slowly clawing at Kimbr’s heart, scratching away the bits of courage and resolve she had plastered over her heart. No matter how hard she shut her eyes and tried imagining sitting under an oak tree in the royal gardens behind the Wilder Keep, the nibbling sounds and the feel of wet hair of the rats brushing her thighs now and then would drag her back to reality.
Just before the anger and frustration inside her filled her to the point where she was about to scream on the top of her lungs, she saw the passage between the cells lit up from the light of a torch, and she heard heavy footsteps approaching. Kimbr wiped away the tears from the corner of her eyes and stood up. She did not want to be seen as a girl who was finally broken. She would not let Krastin have that pleasure.
A man in a green hooded cloak approached her cell. He held a flaming torch in his right hand, and his left was buried deep in the pockets of his black woolen robes with golden embroidery all the way from the neck to the bottom of the cloth, that swirled around his feet as he stopped and turned around to face Kimbr. Kimbr recognized the braids in the long white beard of the man, decorated with small silver clasps that held the braids in place.
“My lady Kimbr, please forgive me, child,” the man said in a throaty voice, “ he gave no hint of his plans; otherwise I would have had you taken away from East Shade.”
Kimbr approached the heavy iron bars of the cell and saw the face concealed by the hood, the face she hoped had also not abandoned her.
“How could you have known, Bernard?” said Kimbr, “Who could have seen this happening? Anyways, we do not have much time. How is father? Is he safe?” Kimbr asked the question that had been haunting her ever since Krastin ordered her to be sent away to the dungeons.
“Krastin has not harmed Lord Stefan, although his health has deteriorated recently. The surgeon and the healer both agree that our Lord's time draws nearer. He survives as long as the dust of horsebone covers his body.”
Kimbr pressed her lips tightly as a tear rolled down her cheeks.
“Get me out of here, Bernard,” Kimbr pleaded, “Father needs me beside him, he needs his blood beside him in his last hours. He wept when Olver left for the Endless Forest, he clutched his hand and asked him not to go, and so did I, but he went nonetheless, and left us alone to face the evils of Krastin.”
Bernard placed the torch in an empty sconce on the wall beside the cell and grasped the iron bars with his long-wrinkled fingers and leaned closer to Kimbr.
“It can be arranged,” Bernard whispered, as Kimbr came closer to the old man, “the trouble is not getting you out of here, but where to hide you once you are out. It seems every lord worth a castle in this kingdom has suddenly turned loyal to Krastin, and those who opposed him have either been bought with gold or silenced permanently. Krastin controls the commander of the army, and once he proves that His Grace sold the kingdom to a Harduinian princess, he will have the support of the smallfolk as well.”
“What about the governors?” Kimbr muttered under her breath, but the silence was so intense that her voice still wafted around the dungeon.
“I am not sure if they would be willing to harbor a traitor when news of His Grace’s marriage alliance breaks out, and Krastin plans to spread the news with the first light of dawn. Messengers and drum beaters will be sent throughout the kingdom, bringing news of the king’s treason.”
“But is he a traitor, Bernard? Did Olver really do it?” Kimbr asked in a frustrated tone.
“I do not believe it. Our king is not a man to be influenced by women, no matter how beautiful or powerful they may be. He would never marry the Harduinian girl. Lord Stefan himself made His Grace swear it.”
“My brother no longer listens to our father,” Kimbr paused before she said, “there must be someone we can trust who will still be loyal to us when the news breaks out? Olver has done so much for so many people; surely there must be a few who would want to return the favor?” Kimbr could hear the desperation in her own voice.
“Men are quick to gain favors and remiss in returning them,” Bernard remarked, “However, there is someone who will want to help us, not because of the king, but because of you.”
Kimbr tried to think of the person Bernard was talking about, but she no one came to her mind.
“Who?” she finally asked.
“ Lord Fanis’s son, Joannis. The boy took a fancy to you when you visited Easkerton last summer. Ever since, he has been pestering Lord Fanis to visit East Shade, and request Olver to wed you to him.”
“But why would a boy risk his inheritance, and his life for a girl he wants to bed? Is his fancy enough for us to trust him?”
“Oh, but he doesn’t just want to bed you. The boy is obsessed with you. He had men round up all the girls who bore even a slight resemblance to you, and then had them garbed in expensive gowns and robes, and then after he had bedded them, he gave them gold and precious stones and palaces, until he ran out of palace
s to gift. I have been spying on him for some time, and believe me, he will do whatever you command.”
“Make it quick, old man!” a voice fell on them like a whip that came from the end of the passage.
“Why didn’t the guard come with you?”
“The prisoners scare them. They think the souls of all the people who have died here are trapped in the cells, searching for bodies with a beating heart to enter and then control. They think the prisoners have been here for so long that their bodies have become home to hundreds of souls, and if they come here regularly, then the souls would enter them as well.”
Kimbr looked at the gaunt, bony bodies of the men and women in the cell opposite her once more. She saw the lifeless eyes still staring at her, glazed and unblinking.
“Now listen,” Bernard’s voice brought her back to reality, “you will have to stay in the dungeons for some time. After Krastin is done spreading his lies about Olver, and after I am certain that Joannis can be trusted, I will find a way to get you out of here, and help you escape to one of Joannis’s palaces, where you will remain in hiding with one of his girls. Until then, my dear lady, all I can ask you is to be brave. I do not know when I will be able to visit you again, for this visit itself took a lot of begging on my part. Krastin might not be so considerate the next time. Have faith, child; you are not alone.”
Kimbr felt a surge of emotions inside her, as she placed her hand on Bernard’s.
“What about father? Am I to never see him again?” Kimbr said as she choked back tears.
Bernard withdrew his hand from Kimbr’s grasp and said in a slow, mournful voice, “I am afraid not”.
Kimbr had been expecting that answer, but to hear Bernard say it out loud pained her. Suddenly, she began regretting the days when looking after her father would make her miserable, and she would complain to Olver about having nothing to do while sitting beside the ailing man, who would mutter inaudible words, and strange names from a time long forgotten, perhaps names of women he had once loved, or men he had wanted to kill. But now, knowing that he will die alone in his dimly lit bedchamber, with no one to hold his quivering hand as the White Curse would whisk him away to lands unknown; Kimber felt numb with pain.
I will have my revenge. I will gladly take the title of ‘kinslayer’; I will gladly let the realm brand me as a traitor, if only that could mean a death so horrible for Krastin, that Gods would not be able to find a punishment suitable for me.
“Make sure you give him a funeral fit for a king. The people loved him, and I know Krastin will not want to anger them by not giving them the last glimpse of the man they worshiped,” said Kimbr, “and have Margarett wear my gown and my crown, and have her do her hair like me, and then make her hold father’s hand when he dies.Make her say words of comfort, make her take my place, for he should not feel abandoned in his last days.”
“It is a noble thought, My Lady, but he will know,” Bernard pointed out, “a father can sense his daughter, even when he cannot see the world, even when he cannot feel his own body. But I will do as you say, and when Lord Stefan passes, I will bring his ashes to you, so that you may hold him one last time, even if it is just his remains.”
“That will be enough,” Elsa admitted.
“And one more thing, Lady Kimbr, a messenger from Calypsos arrived an hour back. King Henrik has decided to send the major part of the Calypsian army into the Endless Forest, as reinforcements for the party that initially set out from Eravia, but it is safe to say that he is shaken, and scared for his son.”
“As am I for my brother. What does he want from us?” inquired Kimbr.
“He asks for our soldiers. He wants us to send our men along with his army.”
“Does every kingdom in the realm want our soldiers? Half of our soldiers perish without fighting because of that damned curse as it is, and now we must send the remaining to look after his son.”
“And your brother,” reminded Bernard, his tone a little apprehensive, “do not hold anger in your heart for King Olver, my dear lady, it is not his fault that circumstances have suddenly taken a turn for the worse.”
“I can never be angry with him. He is my brother, I would lay down my life for him, but if we were to send our remaining men inside the Endless Forest, then even a small army would be able to attack and capture Wildemere, even a Harduinian army. Can we risk that?”
“It does not matter what we think, does it? Our future is in those small greasy hands of that wretch Krastin. We can only wait and watch for the time being.”
Kimbr shook her head emphatically, causing strands of her jet black hair to fall on her face, hiding one of her eye behind a shiny black curtain
“One is always in control of one’s future, Bernard, and our present may be grim, but we will not be able to change that by waiting and watching, but by planning and executing. Just get me out of here, Bernard, and I will show you exactly how.”
Chapter Seven
Sanrick Faerson
IT WAS NICE to have a horse all to himself finally. Although the stallion was a wild one, difficult to maneuver and quick-tempered. Sanrick had often seen Diyana calm the wild beast with soft touches and softer whispers. But now she no longer rode with them. They were a long way from the ‘well of cures’, as Elsa called it, while Diyana’s corpse would still be there, bloated to about double its size, decomposing in the mud, where the worms would finally have their revenge. However, the joy of riding a horse was not enough for Sanrick to drown the guilt that ate at him day and night. Diyana had been nice to him, had called him the ‘scholar king’, a name previously used for King Dorman of Calypsos, the inventor of the ‘thundering eagle’ attack formation that wiped out the bandits from the forest of Eravia for a period of twenty years, before the ‘Band of Bastards’ took up the mantle and started living like the bandits, thieving like the bandits, and then finally, roasting men on a spit like the bandits, and then claimed to be the ‘new’ bandits of Eravia.
She gifted me an illustrious title previously used for a great king of Aerdon, and my sister gifted her death. But why?
Sanrick never asked Elsa. In fact, he hardly spoke to her ever since they left the ‘well of cures’, but not before filling up their flagons with its magical water.
Magical water. Words that would have sounded absurd a while back, but now, Sanrick truly knew how magical the water was. It did not just quench thirst, but hunger as well. It gave him strength when he thought he would fall off his horse due to sheer exhaustion. It dulled the pain in his shoulder, and it would feel like warm wine flowing down his throat on cold nights and like cool mint when the sun would beat down on them in the noon.
The sun was directly over him at the moment, and they had been riding since dawn. Weather in the Endless Forest was as unpredictable as the bowel movements of a man suffering from dysentery.
The nights would sometimes make them sweat while the day would make them huddle under their cloaks, and sometimes, cold, menacing arrows would fall from the sky in the form of rain, while sometimes, hot and humid air would make them wish for the cool waters of a lake in the afternoon. And one such afternoon was tormenting Sanrick, as beads of sweat dripped from his hair and onto his neck and then seeped into the cloth tied over his open wound, causing his shoulder to sizzle in pain every now and then. But he was used to it now. The fat coward king of Harduin had found courage inside him he never knew existed.
“Something is different about this place,” Elsa muttered, riding beside Sanrick on her grey horse, her pale, bony face displaying the exhaustion that her twinkling eyes were trying to hide.
“What is so different about it?” Sanrick asked curtly.
“The air is very damp.”
“That is nothing new. It does get damp on some days. It has happened before,” Sanrick pointed out.
“This time it is different. It has not rained for days, so there should be no cause for it. No, this dampness is caused by something else. I believe we are near a sea. You wo
uld know if you ever visited left Timehall and stepped out into in the sun, or ever visited Fisherman’s Fame in Harduin.”
The jape did not hurt Sanrick. He knew Elsa was annoyed because he had not been talking with her. He knew she wanted an outburst from him.
Sanrick closed his eyes and allowed the soft wind to caress his face. He felt the moisture and the dampness. He also sniffed faint undertones of salt, and he realized Elsa was correct.
There was a sea nearby.
And a sea meant the end of the forest, the end of the Endless Forest.
“It’s a pity none of us can climb a tree. It was the one thing I never wished to learn,” said Elsa.
“Why?” Sanrick asked without looking at her.
“Because I did not want to look like a monkey. Some things do not suit a princess.”
“You never learned because you are afraid of heights.” Sanrick sneered mockingly.
“That is a lie. Nothing scares me.”
“Then why don’t you climb one now? Prove me wrong, sister. There is no one here to call you a monkey. And we might find out about the sea.”
“I do not want to.”
“You are too scared to do it” Sanrick chuckled this time.
“And you are too fat to do it.”
“And short of an arm, don’t forget” Sanrick reminded Elsa.
Elsa’s face suddenly lost its harshness, and sadness crept into her emerald eyes. Silence lingered between the siblings before Elsa spoke again, “I did not wish to kill her. Just how I did not wish to kill all those people back in East Shade. And I know you will never understand the motive behind my actions. You never have. But I kept us safe all these years, didn’t I? My methods might be cruel, Sanrick, but they are effective.”
“We were safe, Elsa. Perhaps safer with Diyana than we are now,” Sanrick finally looked at Elsa, “initially, you used your methods to keep us safe, but now, they have become a part of you. A habit that you cannot break. And now, you don’t use them to keep us safe, but to realize your ambitions, to become the most powerful woman in the realm.
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