by J. M. Topp
If only I could sleep and never wake up.
BENDRICK WAS AWOKEN by a knock at the door. He slowly opened his eyes and realized that the clothes he had been wearing were gone. He was completely naked underneath the bed sheets. A woman stepped through with a bucket of hot water and poured it into the washbasin. Bendrick stared at her. It was the same aide who had met them at the stairs to the palace the night before. She still wore her whitecloth wrap over her head and some of her face. She finished emptying the bucket and turned to the bed, realizing that Bendrick was awake.
‘Oh, my lord, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ she said, dropping the bucket and walking to the door. ‘Prepare the meal; my lord is hungry.’ The aide spoke to someone outside the door. Closing it, she walked to the edge of the bed. ‘Did you rest well, my lord?’
There was something familiar about her. Bendrick sat up to get a better look.
Where have I seen her before?
‘You don’t recognize me, my lord?’ The woman smiled, and it came to Bendrick immediately. A shiver of fear ran up his spine.
Rebecca.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Bendrick, and a panic began to set over him.
‘I’m here for you,’ she said, slipping a dagger from underneath her dress. The blade gleamed nastily in the sunlight. ‘I have been waiting for this moment for days.’
Rebecca smiled wickedly as she approached. Bendrick held his breath and realized there was nothing he could do. He closed his eyes and mouthed the name of his daughter as a final prayer.
Get it over with, elven wench.
She held the knife over him, and broke into a laugh. Rebecca winked at him and sheathed her weapon.
‘You really think I would have waited until now to kill you, when I have had plenty of chances in the last three days?’ She giggled as a maiden with a platter of steaming food entered the room.
‘I am relieved you changed your mind,’ said Bendrick, exhaling loudly. ‘I seem to be in need of clothes.’
‘Ah, yes, those distasteful Aivaterran rags were burned as soon as I saw you wearing them.’
‘They were brand-new clothes,’ Bendrick retorted, shocked at the elf.
‘Polished shit is still shit,’ Rebecca said nonchalantly. ‘I have brought some clothing more fitting of you, Bendrick. And finding something fitting wasn’t so…easy.’
Rebecca stole a glance at the maiden serving the table. The maiden turned her head slowly and blushed. Rebecca smiled at her and turned back to Bendrick.
‘Your wound is almost completely healed. I applied some of my solutions to it. You should be able to move freely and with youthful energy in no time.’
Bendrick coughed. ‘Youthful, huh? As good as it is to see you again, Reb—’
Rebecca coughed and shook her head, pointing at the maiden who exited the room.
‘No one must know my real name, save for you. The truth is, I am here to give you a message,’ she whispered, sitting on the bed. ‘I need your help, Bendrick.’
It seems that everyone was in dire need of Bendrick’s help. Don’t they realize? There isn’t much I can do. He never had been very good at politics, obviously, and he was still recuperating.
‘I don’t know if I can. The king is in prison, and the queen rules Eldervale. She won’t let me into her council, and my only task is to integrate the army into the queen’s.’
‘Riveting, I’m sure,’ she scoffed, straightening her dress. ‘I hate these damn things.’
She turned and stared at Bendrick, as if weighing her words. ‘The truth is, I am going to break the king out of his cell.’
Bendrick’s mouth dropped in disbelief. ‘Why would you do that? The army has been routed, Weserith taken, and the queen’s enemies destroyed. Where would he run?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘Only part of the army was at Lyedran Valley. Korhas’ army was stationed at Estia Fortress, just in case the Aivaterrans crossed through Rovulgad Bridge. There was no signal dispatched during the Lyedran Battle, due to the haste demonstrated by the enemy army. Yet they are there: ten thousand men awaiting their king’s orders. The strongest army in Eldervale.’
‘But also the smallest,’ said Bendrick, quoting Remy’s words. Bendrick wondered if Remy had ended up as one of the charred bodies hanging from the parapets of tall buildings.
Estia Fortress was one of two hidden fortresses known only by a few people in the war council. The fact that the queen had allowed this to happen meant she didn’t know about it. William did, however.
‘You realize that once the queen finds out, there will be nowhere to run. William is her right-hand adviser. She will know soon,’ retorted Bendrick, intently reading Rebecca’s expressions.
‘William does know about Estia, but he hasn’t told the queen about it. I think he is keeping it for something. William is a lot more dangerous than I anticipated.’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘I should have seen his betrayal. He is playing a dangerous game; you must take caution around him,’ said Rebecca with a grave face. ‘Whatever his plans are, it’s not the nation that he cares about.’
Bendrick shook his head in the realization that he had been right. William was not to be trusted. Ayland was a savage; that much was true, but Bendrick kept seeing him in that dark corner, gripping his stump of a leg. He would not give up on King Ayland that easily.
‘I need your help because I have no access to the prisons. I know you spent a few weeks in there yourself. You know which cell the king is staying in,’ she said, standing up beside the bed. ‘I have other news as well, Bendrick. Sieglinde is alive and well in Estia Fortress.’
Bendrick’s spirits rose instantly.
‘She is with the army now. I know how much she means to you. Help me, and you will see her again,’ she said reassuringly.
Bendrick nodded without hesitation.
‘William, the bastard, wants the armies to be integrated. But it will be to the Weserithian Army under King Ayland. At least he cared about his own people. We never went hungry, and we never lacked protection. He is ruthless, aye, but only to his enemies, never to his own. This Cunt Queen will string us all by our necks before she is satisfied with her imagined revenge.’ Rebecca stood from the bed sourly. It was obvious the hate that she had for the queen. Even though she hadn’t been born in Weserith, she held a love for the people here. It was hard to disagree with her. Bendrick was beginning to realize how much of a mistake it would be to leave Weserith in the hands of the queen. More innocents would die needlessly.
‘What must I do?’ he said simply, standing from his bed. The sheets fell from his body, and he stood bare before Rebecca.
She grinned as she looked him over. ‘Work with William for now. Do what he says and pretend to give up on the king. Wait for me to contact you with instructions. I have left some potions for the king. I hear his state is dreadful. It will be soon, so remain on the lookout. For now, pretend that you will obey and follow the queen’s commands. I would hate to see you executed before it’s time,’ she said as she moved to exit the room. ‘In another lifetime, I wouldn’t pass you up, Bendrick. Perhaps there, we would have had enjoyed ourselves.’
‘Perhaps,’ smiled Bendrick as he stepped into the washtub. Rebecca closed the door behind her, and Bendrick was left alone in his bedchamber. He let himself sink into the warmth of the washtub. As much as he tried to enjoy the moment, the fact that his daughter was alive gave him anxiety. Would she be angry at him?
I would be angry.
In the entire time she had grown up, he had never struck her out of anger. Sure, there was the occasional punishment of mischievousness, but nothing as drastic as what had happened in the Lyedran Valley. Bendrick tried to reason with himself that it had been the heat of battle, the prospect of losing her, and then almost truly giving up hope. Whatever the case may be, he would apologize. If she denied him, so be it. She would be alive, and that was all that mattered to Bendrick.
Once he had gotten dressed, Bendrick deci
ded to walk to the prisons to see the king. Perhaps he would even let him in on the secret of the escape plans to give him hope. It had almost been three days since Bendrick had seen the king. Bendrick walked through the streets of the desolate city, but his feet carried him to the rubble of the Athenaeum. The people were not to blame, yet they were the ones that suffered. Bendrick stood over the ashes of what had once been the mighty jewel of Weserith. A large pile of white rubble the size of a small building was all that was left of the monument. Hundreds of years of learning and understanding were lost amidst the rising ash. Bendrick could only stare in sadness at the sight.
As he approached the cells, the pungent smells emerged into his nostrils. The memory of his stay here was still pretty vivid in his mind. The guard opened the main door, recognizing him and urging him on with a nod. Bendrick entered and walked through the cells. This time, the outer cells were silent. A guard sat on a small stool, watching over the king’s cell. He opened the door, and Bendrick walked through. The king wasn’t in his usual spot. He was sprawled on his stomach on the stone-cold floor. His back was bloodied. His flesh hung by strands on his body. They had beaten him severely.
‘Your Grace,’ Bendrick said, turning the beaten man over, careful not to hurt him more. The king groaned in pain. His eyes darted back and forth. He had a fever, Bendrick realized. His face was impossibly warm to the touch.
‘Every day he is beaten. His broth is laced with Omidmium. It helps the nerves become more receptive, increasing the pain given to him. It also prevents him from true sleep,’ said the guard quietly, who stood watch over Bendrick. ‘These past couple of days, he has stopped screaming. He says only one phrase over and over again.’
‘What does he say?’ asked Bendrick as he gave the potion to the king. The potion would surely ease the pain. He looked at the guard as he gave the king the serum, but the guard seemed not to care.
‘He utters the name of the queen, begging for forgiveness. He asks her as if she were here with him in this cell. He says nothing else.’The guard almost sounded sad. Though Aivaterran, there was still humanity in him.
‘Has he eaten?’
‘Not on his own. We were ordered to force feed him twice a day, since the queen heard he wasn’t being nourished. At first, he would make himself throw up. Now, he barely puts up a fight. He chokes it down without much struggle.’
They were tearing him to pieces. They had broken him physically, and now they were breaking him psychologically. His leg stump had become infected and dark green. Bendrick replaced the bandage and applied some of Rebecca’s potion to it. Hopefully, it would be enough to stop the spread of infection and possibly heal the stump.
‘Would you give us a moment?’ asked Bendrick, and the guard nodded and closed the cell door behind him.
‘Your Grace, I have been contacted by Rebecca. We are getting you out,’ Bendrick said, trying to revive Ayland’s hope. But if Ayland was listening, he didn’t even break a smile. His hazy eyes continued to dart back and forth as if searching for someone who wasn’t there. It was heartbreaking to see such a mighty warrior fall into the depths of madness. ‘My King…I…’
There was no use. Ayland began mouthing something, but no words emanated from his chapped and bloody lips. Bendrick finished cleaning his wound and wrapped it in a fresh bandage. He stood and knocked at the door to be let out. As the guard opened it, he gave one last look at the dying king. Soon, he would be free, and all this would be over.
UPON EXITING THE prison cells, Bendrick was approached by a city guard. It was the same one that had brought him into the prison cells.
Hedran stifled a smile and bowed mockingly at Bendrick.
‘My lord, the queen expects your presence immediately,’ said Hedran curtly, without looking at Bendrick directly.
‘What does she want with me?’ For a moment, Bendrick’s paranoia got the better of him. Does the queen know of the plan to free the king?
Hedran simply stared at Bendrick’s feet. Bendrick nodded and followed the guard. This time he was to meet the queen in her chambers. Hedran knocked once and opened the door.
As Bendrick entered, Gwendylyyn turned to him. She had been taking her bath. Soap suds covered her nudity, yet the image of her there, bathing in all her beauty, made Bendrick catch his breath.
‘One moment, Bendrick,’ she said as she continued to scrub herself. The water dripped from the bowl she was holding to her shoulders and down onto her breasts. Her belly was slightly distended with the child growing within her.
‘You wanted to see me, Your Grace?’ asked Bendrick, careful not to look at the queen’s bare body.
‘I did. Please turn around,’ said Gwendylyyn, emerging from her bath and stepping up to her large wardrobe. Bendrick did as was ordered. He noticed a slight stiffness in his trousers and quickly willed it away. It would not do to speak to the queen with something so vulgar. Once the queen was dressed, she asked him to turn around. She was wearing a silk blue and white dress with frilled designs on the borders. It was tied a little loosely to allow her belly some room. Her hair was still dripping wet, and she grabbed a towel to dry it off.
‘I heard you went to see Ayland. How is he?’ Gwendylyyn asked without any hesitation in her voice.
‘Dying, Your Grace. They beat him every day and force feed him,’ said Bendrick, not knowing if what he said sounded too much like pity. It might send the wrong message to the queen.
‘Good. Then he is receiving nourishment,’ she said simply, tossing the towel on a chair next to her bed. ‘William informed me of the rumours about this so-called Dark Army. What do you think about it?’
‘Your Grace, I am not the advisor to royalty. William has had tremendous experience. I only know books and swords.’
‘I did not ask for William’s qualifications or yours. I want to know what you think of these rumours,’ Gwendylyyn said curtly, picking up a mirror and studying herself.
‘Frankly, I think they might be something worth looking into. Even if it is just rumour, it would be wise to be prepared,’ said Bendrick, furrowing his brow at the thought of what exactly the Dark Army was. No one knew what exactly it was. At this point, it was all simply rumours.
‘Prepared? William wants to mobilize the army south, back to Aivaterra. Most of my army is already there. I think they can handle the defense of the city in case there really is a threat, especially under my sister. My couriers do not even mention this dark threat.’
‘How many couriers have your received, Your Grace?’ asked Bendrick.
‘One,’ said the queen after a pause.
Bendrick stared at the ground. To correct the queen— or any royalty for that matter—sometimes held certain undesirable consequences. He decided it would be best to leave it at that. But then, something poked in the back of his mind.
‘One courier, my Queen, isn’t enough to refute these rumours. I would send half the army back to Aivaterra and reinforce the castle.’ Bendrick chose his words carefully. If the queen did send half the army back to the Khahadran, Weserith would be weaker. Perhaps then it would be an even fight for the army at Estia. Bendrick felt a sickening feeling be born in his stomach. It was treason, but it was necessary. Rebecca was right. This queen, though tortured, didn’t care for the people of Weserith. Something had to be done for the good of Eldervale.
‘Split the army?’ asked Gwendylyyn, touching her lower lip with her thumb. She turned to Bendrick. ‘And leave Weserith weakened? Revolts and coups would be on my hands then.’
It was a hard sell, and the queen wasn’t an idiot. Bendrick swallowed hard and stared at the queen, weighing his words.
‘It’s for you to decide, after all, Your Grace. I am a caretaker; that is all.’
Gwendylyyn nodded and smiled at Bendrick. ‘Thank you, Bendrick. That is all I need for now.’ She waved him out, and Bendrick took his leave. It wasn’t wise to try and trick Queen Gwendylyyn, but it was a risk he would have to take. She would think about what he had said
and perhaps follow his instructions. He caught himself closing his eyes and praying. But then he shook his head and left the royal chambers.
What gods would I even pray to? We abandoned them all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A Silent Respite
ELYMIAH LEANED ON her halberd and stared across the Insolvent District. Reconstruction of Weserith had begun surprisingly quickly. Dozens of architects from Aivaterra had been brought to rebuild the city in the eyes of Queen Gwendylyyn. The rubble and cinders that were left of the Athenaeum were cleared, and in its place a statue of the queen was to be erected. Made from white marble, the depiction was to be of her holding a bow with an arrow notched and pointed south to Aivaterra. Most Weserithians had been forced into hard labour, assisting with clearing destroyed buildings and structures. Elymiah and her platoon had just finished a march around the city, patrolling the streets and assuring Weserithians that no more harm would come to them. Though they had been met with sullen stares and angry curses, Elymiah knew they wouldn’t attack a well-armed platoon. After the end of their march, Elymiah had decided that she would walk along the edge of the wall for some silence and a moment to think. She looked up at the blue sky above Weserith. It was all so calm and quiet.
What is it that sings in the wind?
Elymiah turned her head slightly at the thought and continued to walk through the empty, silent street. It only happened when she was alone that thoughts like these entered her mind. A frosted wind blew the bear cloak around her neck, flapping against her silver armour. Motes of snow drifted through the air, and Elymiah could see her breath from her mouth, which then disappeared into the blue Weserithian sky. The thought came back to her.
