Bennam grew impatient. Waiting for death was terrible, even when prepared for it.
Then it came. He knew what to look for; the guard at the flap was momentarily distracted by something or another, undoubtedly the ploy set up by the assassin.
Without hesitation Bennam punched the syringe into his leg, pushing the fluid into his bloodstream. He tossed away the syringe among his furnishings.
He had not expected so much pain, the toxins burning in his insides. The poison was deadly, but there would be nothing subtle about it, hence the crippling pain.
He watched the play of shadows on the cloth of his manila tent. His guard at the flap left his post, and like some obscene play synchronized to perfection, a girl of maybe twenty years of age slithered into the tent.
She was raven haired, her face painted black as well and her leather outfit showing every curve of her body, designed to give her full use of every extremity. Her eyes locked on Bennam; there was no rage or bloodlust, simply the recognition of her target.
Bennam made a show of getting up with his sword, trying to hide his pain and charge at the girl. In response the assassin came in with ghostly speed, leaping high and furling her legs around Bennam’s neck. The weight brought Bennam down on his back with a thud, the iron lock of legs designed to muffle any attempt for him to shout for guards. He would not have shouted anyway.
Rolling herself from Bennam’s chest she made a quick jab to the Commander’s throat, disabling the vocal cords. The old man was suffering. Next, she slid out a syringe of her own and pushed it also into Bennam’s leg, a second toxin entering his body. Bennam watched helplessly as the poison instantly paralyzed him. The assassin stood up from her haunches, taking Bennam’s sword and sheathing it back into the scabbard at his waist. She glanced around the tent, scurrying to flip through the papers on his table. Unsatisfied she turned one last time to Bennam and rummaged through his pockets and the inside of his coat. First she found the note and then the chess piece. Looking at the note her eyes went alight, pocketing the decoy.
For a few fearful moments Bennam thought she would take the piece as well, but she thought better of it and left everything else as it were, putting the chess figurine back in his coat pocket.
She then fled so quietly it was hard to believe she had even been there at all.
The joke’s on you, Bennam tried think defiantly, head swimming in pain.
The assassin’s poison was undoubtedly designed to make death appear natural, to destroy any hint that the Lanston army was in peril. Bennam’s own poison would do no such thing.
I’ve played you. They would figure it to be a fault on the assassin’s part. The Guild will probably kill her for her conceived mistake.
Now everything is in place, I just pray…
‘For Lanston,’ Bennam gurgled incoherently, his heart palpitating, his mighty body surrendering.
Chapter 11
Dying Wish
The news hit the city like wildfire. Commander Bennam, having retired from the military after 40 years of service, was dead. Upon his return to Lanston from the barracks he had lingered in the city for three days before he and his wife departed for Asheva, where it was said he would live out his retirement.
His departure from the city had seen scores of civilians gather at the eastern gates to bid his entourage farewell. The man was a legend no doubt. Elmira herself did not attend, but she gave the whole affair a peek from her balcony when they passed underneath.
It was hard to accept that the war hero she had known personally was dead, and even worse knowing that after everything he had survived, that he was destined to fall to a poison.
Yes, that was the word on the street, and although no official Kingdom statement following the investigation had been made, Elmira suspiciously felt that the rumour was true; the old Commander had been murdered.
The question left on everyone’s mind was simple; why now? Commander Bennam was a ferocious opponent to any enemy of the Kingdom, but why murder him when he has given up his military influence?
Upon hearing Bennam’s wife was unscathed and back at their estate just outside of Lanston, Elmira resolved to visit the poor woman before the burial and before she left Lanston for good. Elmira sympathized with this woman for obvious reasons.
From her home Elmira arranged a carriage, a luxury she could call upon given her father’s wealth. She would need to keep it discrete however. Her father, Vaunce of Merrigil, did not appreciate her associating so closely with any of the military. It was really more about Cid than anything else and Vaunce’s efforts to sway Elmira’s heart away from the Colonel had been rather overt. Elmira would not have any of it.
She shot down any attempt of her father’s to bring her closer to the noble man that was Fredrere of Sagril. Elmira wasn’t sure how much longer she could it keep it up; how effective her antics would be once her father decided he had enough. That Lanston still prescribed to an archaic system where a father only relinquished control of his daughter once wed tumbled Elmira into many quiet moments of deep anger. She had raised the matter once with her father, and his response was “its simple really, you live in luxury at my pleasure, and since you have no means of your own, I will decide what is best for you, as I always have.”
After that there was a complete breakdown between the two of them. What he doesn’t know is I would gladly leave all of this to live with Cid.
Vaunce would definitely not approve of her if he saw her now, visiting the widow of Bennam when her life was potentially still in danger. Vaunce did care for her he knew, despite being the most unreasonable man she knew.
Thus her trip was arranged at a discreet time, when father was out and about, the house hands too preoccupied with hanging out the clothes to dry in the back to be able notice anything worth gossiping about. She instructed the driver to keep to the outskirts of the city even though it would be somewhat of a longer ride.
The road took the carriage past Lanston’s meagre vineyard farms. The Lanston land was not ideal for wines but the best winemakers still endeavoured, and it ensured that the few wines produced locally were good ones. Elmira looked from her carriage window as the stringy green rows of vines past her narrow slit of vision endlessly. Like when she was a child, she wish she could just bound from the carriage, running freely chasing her friends through a green world and stealing some of the best looking grapes of the early season, eating them with such delight that the red juices stained the corners of her mouth. Later when the farm owner caught them it was only by her father’s status that she escaped the punishment bestowed on the other children.
Back then she and her father had been close, travelling all around the city with him as he made his daily business visits.
Now we’re at each other’s throats. Things are such a mess right now.
Old Commander Bennam’s house was a small estate just outside of Lanston. It was an isolated setting, yet stood in the magnificent silhouette of the city. It was strange then seeing how exposed they had lived in reality, as the waist high walls surrounding the villa was obviously for decoration and a sign of boundary rather than for protection. However, Elmira could see herself living in a place like this, for even though her father’s holdings were large, they were nestled in the heart of the city and thus overindulged in enclosed spaces created by walls, people and possessions.
The driver helped Elmira out of the carriage and she was still planning how best to console Rebecca when she was shocked to see the widow and her handmaid already approaching them. The sixty-something woman was stout in her movements, as though Bennam’s military background rubbed off on her.
Looking at her Elmira saw a dull ache in Rebecca’s eyes that said much of what Elmira had thought earlier: after all these years of warring, to have fallen to poison…
Before Elmira could really get something out Rebecca invited her in, a subtle haste recognizable in her notion. Elmira could do nothing more than follow the widow.
The house on
the inside was decorated richly, but it was the view of the outside that was the envy of this place. Every room seemed to have a great range of crystal clear windows in order to portray the rolling green hills of Lanston without flaw, the curtains bridled on the sides. Elmira was led to the lounge where they sat down, instantly supplied with a pot of tea.
‘I’m so glad to see you’re keeping poise my dear, Bennam has told me all about your predicament. A lesser woman would have taken Fredrere’s hand already. I really do hope you and Cid can be happily married one day,’ said Rebecca.
Elmira was somewhat lost for words. She was here to sympathize, not be sympathized at.
‘Rebecca, you should not concern yourself with others in such grievous times,’ spoke Elmira gently.
‘I receive your intention Elmira, but you’re wrong. Bennam was a wizened man and I will not obsess over his death when I can tribute to the life that he lived. He never said it, but I know he found a son in Cid like he never had. Cid made him stronger; every ideal and moral Bennam had coveted for the military he saw in your man,’ said Rebecca with surprising conviction.
Elmira smiled sadly. ‘He does much of the same for me,’ she acknowledged.
Rebecca nodded. ‘For Bennam, Cid has affirmed an entire career spent trying to glorify the Lanston army. So my dear, you must understand, Cid may well be Bennam’s legacy and that is why I very much occupy myself with thoughts of your happiness.’
Elmira’s face grew soft, her heart aching for the brave widow in front of her. She wasn’t fooled of course, Rebecca was hurting, but she wasn’t going to show it now, not today, and she really was going to stubbornly insist that she could deal with it all by wishing well Elmira’s marriage to Cid. There would be tears Elmira knew, but Rebecca wasn’t going into grieving without a fight.
‘That reminds me!’ exclaimed Rebecca, jumping up and quickly putting down her half-finished cup of tea. Elmira was left to sit in silent amusement as the old woman scurried around the house, barking orders at the servants as they tried to obey.
They’re looking for something, thought Elmira, wondering what this was all about.
Sighing in mild exertion Rebecca returned to sit, a rectangular ornament box in her hands. She placed it down on the coffee table and proceeded to open it. Apparently it was stuffed with sentimentals and Rebecca took some time burrowing into it to retrieve what she sought. She held the object up for Elmira to see.
It was like a small piece of stone, translucent and glasslike, a crystal maybe. Round and flat. It sure isn’t a diamond. Yet it was perfectly shaped and crafted, almost like a rounded octagon, just big enough for Elmira to close it in her small fist. Locked in its core was a bright red blotch of colour with leaking red veins spreading to all sides.
Rebecca handed it over to Elmira.
‘It’s not valuable dear, I already check with Kumark the jeweller. He did say it to be a curious stone though, that he’d never seen anything like it. Bennam gave it to me, and he made it very clear that I was to give it to you,’ said Rebecca.
‘To me? What should I do with it?’ asked Elmira in surprise, even though she admired the stone visibly, turning its smooth cold surface in her hands.
‘Bennam was adamant; I assumed it might mean something to him and Cid. He made it sound as though this would be your wedding gift, can you imagine that! Seeing as this might be the last chance for us to speak I realized it was probably time to honour Bennam’s wish.’
‘When did he first show you this?’ asked Elmira.
‘It was just before they left for the barracks now that I think on it. Back then I laughed when he made it sound like he wouldn’t return, and that I should safeguard the stone until the right time. Now of course…’
‘I’ll keep it safe. And show it to Cid,’ promised Elmira. She held it up in a beam of light coming from the window, the stone glistening.
Such an ominous stone.
‘At least it’s pleasant to look at,’ said Elmira politely, not sure what to make of it all.
Rebecca shook her head in clear annoyance. ‘Really my dear, if it weren’t in some way Bennam’s dying wish for you to have this then I would not have bothered you with such nonsense.’
Elmira laughed. ‘Thank you, I will accept it as memoir of all that you and Bennam have meant to us,’ she said, certain that this was going to be her last, and strangest, conversation with the old lady.
Chapter 12
Among the Biridians
Still dark. Cid woke with a start, his hand habitually gliding across his jaw. Remaining on his back he counted the days since departure.
Almost two weeks now, he thought. With his hands behind his head he stared up straight above him, into a dark canvass of cloth spread over him and many other sleeping soldiers. They carried no tents, so rather they used these canvasses, mostly suspending them tied between the trees. Around their camp was a blood red strewn powder named phatavril, also called territory, its odour said to repel most insects and crawlers that would still bypass the canvasses. Even the powder’s colour was said to deter animals; whether true or not the soldiers have found it to be ever effective.
Still massaging his beard Cid could hear Elmira in his head voicing protest over the sharpness of his growth. He smiled sadly in the dark and was hit by a terrible longing for her. Had he been part of the core force he could have stayed in touch, but for now he and his company was rather isolated from the rest of the world.
Cid stood up and moved out from under the cover. He warily treaded among his comrades, only just making out the outline of their sleeping figures. During their first day of travel the entire company rode to the outskirts of the Alparack woods. They then tied down and left most of the horses at the forest border. (The horses would have been be assimilated by the main force the next day) For five days now Cid and his men had been trekking through the woods and made contact with the other satellite company the previous day. A small social exchange took place before they parted ways again.
Cid had come to admire the hospitality of the forest. These were rather dry lands and so the hassles of dense undergrowth claimed no place here. Instead Alparack was an outpost for a host of giant trees, the most common being the Biridian, overshadowing their fellow Bluegums who also stood here.
The drywood Biridian, even though smaller to the one found in rain forests, was a titan tree by any measure. Half again as tall as the lofty Bluegums, it was still their bulk rather than length that seized attention. On the bigger ones Several men had to stand together to encompass its base with their arms.
As one’s eyes ran up the spine of twisted wood, there at its bowl, rested its true distinction. It had no tree top or definite peak so to speak, rather it split forth, wielding giant boughs and branches into every direction. So twisted were they that it appeared as though someone had indeed bent and humble them to prevent their tips from reaching into the sky. Staring up at them it became a pointless task to try and gauge where one Biridian’s branches ended and where another’s began. Thus there was a natural canopy of growth, intertwined so much that the scouts could easily move from one tree to another even without breaking pace. Cid speculated that it was in places like this that myths of elves and fairies were born as the secretiveness that came naturally in the woods touched one’s imagination.
Down on the ground it was clear that any weakling tree or smaller bush stood no chance in the race for deep set water. Only patches of fine Sirrilar grasses were allowed to thrive on the surface, spaced among incredible Biridian roots and forest debris. In Cid’s mind the lack of variety in vegetation could only ever be a good thing for the army. The soldiers did not have to worry about snakes, spiders or even poisonous frogs, while the flies and mosquitoes would also be cut to a minimum. Mountains, sandstorms or raging rivers might induce a sense of adventure to a daydreamer, but to a soldier Alparack’s easy access came as a solace to counter its bloody reputation that lingered in every mind.
Thank heaven we’re not
in a rain forest, thought Cid, still not content that he been removed from the greater Lanston force.
Cid however still found the forest enchanting. The clusters of tall Biridian trees had a proud presence and a good-natured silence about them. They were also so numerous that even though the forest wasn’t considered dense, it still isolated one entirely from the outside world.
Then there was the Sirrilar grass which Cid had come to find every morning covered in blankets of dew droplets despite the reigning dryness right before the rain season.
One of the soldiers had told Cid as a matter of interest that these grasses actually have hygroscopic spots on them, allowing them to attract moisture from the air in order to compete with the trees. The spectacle of an entire clearing of shining wet blades in the dawn light on the third morning had been enough to fulfil Cid’s need for sightseeing.
Cid went to stand where he would be able to see the sunrise. He found such a spot on the roots of a Biridian where it protruded dramatically from the ground, the girth rounded enough to accommodate him. Cid considered climbing the Biridian for an even better view, but judged it a bit too dark for a trick he wasn’t practiced in.
No, this spot will be just fine.
There were of course others in the company who specialized as scouts and foresters. Cid and the three other satellite leaders were forced by circumstances to make sure that their chosen scouts could track, climb trees and have reasonable knowledge on the woods itself. Fortunately Alex was well versed in almost every terrain and on the day that they set out Cid’s decision to make him the scout captain was uncontested.
Brunick’s promotion had been fiery affair though. He announced Brunick to be the captain of the melee specialists’ right after Alex’s declaration and it was met with protest. It was mainly because Brunick was Cid’s close friend and the politic was always going to bother the soldiers.
Remnant Pages Spearhead Page 9
