Broken in Twilight

by Kim ten Tusscher

  As he stood there, he realized how rash his plan was. He didn’t even know if the servant would come this way. There wasn’t time to worry about that, he had to hope for the best.

  All of a sudden, he spotted the Purified servant. He carried a tray of food and walked in the direction of the room. He was followed by three other servants. Kasimirh was ready to overpower him, but decided to wait.

  The Purified man returned with an empty tray. Kasimirh yanked him into the alcove. The servant screamed, but Kasimirh had reinforced the shield around them so that no sound could get through.

  “What were you getting?”

  “Fruit for the queen,” the man stuttered.

  Kasimirh smiled as he strangled the man. This was perfect. He quickly changed into the servants clothes and cast a few spells to keep the shield intact while he was away.

  As inconspicuously as possible he entered the room where all the food was displayed. Someone wanted to hand him a tray. “This has to go to the guests.”

  Kasimirh shook his head. “The queen has asked me to bring her some fruit.”

  The woman nodded. “That’s more important.”

  Kasimirh grabbed some fruit and left the room. His heart was beating so fast that it had to be audible for everyone. He joined a row of servants waiting to enter the Great Hall.

  There was a veiled woman standing near the platform. She turned around and looked Kasimirh straight in the eye. She looked surprised. Kasimirh immediately realized that this was Ghalatea. The Ancilla Princeps knew every servant in the palace, and now she saw an unfamiliar face. She frowned and opened her mouth. Kasimirh launched some invisible magic. Ghalatea screamed and collapsed.

  People were in turmoil. Kasimirh threw away the tray and came to Ghalatea’s aid. “Ancilla Princeps, what happened?” At the same time he silenced her.

  Before he could do anything else, a soldier dragged him away from Ghalatea. Kasimirh looked at the turmoil and turned around. Yvar had turned in his chair to be able to see what was going on. There was no one between him and the king.

  At the moment of the flash, Ferhdessar was inside the Great Hall, among the common people. The light was so bright that it blinded him for a few seconds. With his vision slowly returning, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Nigesanla was leaning over in her chair. Screaming, she threw herself onto the king who was lying on the floor in front of the throne.

  Then everything happened really fast. The crowd ran for the exit, trampling each other. Rogan pulled Nigesanla to her feet, but her wrist was still tied to Yvar’s. Rogan wanted to undo the ribbon, but Nigesanla shook her head, protesting fiercely. Harald tried to lift the king, but immediately slumped to the ground. What was going on?

  Ferhdessar ran towards the platform and abruptly stopped. He blinked, but the image didn’t change. Kasimirh was standing ten paces from the king. How could he be here? He was supposed to be locked up, wasn’t he?

  A soldier grabbed Yvar and dragged him towards the door behind the platform. Rogan dragged Nigesanla with him. Kasimirh launched a fireball at the group as they were trying to flee. Nigesanla screamed and stumbled through the door. It all happened in no more than a few seconds.

  Yvar’s guards attacked Kasimirh. Shots were fired. Zuzeca’s bodyguards attacked the Merzian soldiers. It was lucky that Yvar had refused to mix the Maximus’s soldiers with his own. More soldiers were trying to enter the Hall, but they were prevented from doing so by the fleeing people.

  Kasimirh decided not to interfere with the fighting soldiers and jumped down the platform. As he walked towards Ferhdessar, he said: “Just give up, Merzia is lost.”

  “Not yet. Never!” Ferhdessar groped for the disc hanging from a lace around his neck. As soon as he touched it, his arm made an involuntary movement. The lace snapped. His fingers stretched, and the disc was hurled away.

  “Let’s measure our strength. Just you and me, no amulets,” said Kasimirh.

  Ferhdessar was caught by surprise, but almost immediately dashed forwards. He used his sword to parry Kasimirh’s fireballs, meanwhile bombarding the sorcerer with his own.

  From all around him came the sounds of metal on metal. The soldiers were fighting and cursing. Ferhdessar blocked it all out. Dodging and parrying, he managed to get closer to Kasimirh. Only a few feet away from him, Ferhdessar threw himself at the prophet. His left hand grabbed Kasimirh’s shoulder, but his other hand was knocked aside. Both men tried to keep their balance, but fell over.

  Ferhdessar rolled away and jumped back on top of Kasimirh. He grabbed the prophet’s shoulders and sent magic through his body like an electric shock. Kasimirh’s eyes widened. His face was contorted with pain. Screaming, the prophet threw Ferhdessar off of him. Ferhdessar landed about a dozen yards away. He was nearly hit by a fireball.

  Kasimirh jumped to his feet and raised his arms. There was a shockwave. The palace shook, causing the glass dome to shatter. Pieces of broken glass rained down on Ferhdessar and the soldiers. Kasimirh had erected a shield over his head.

  Ferhdessar was too slow. Glass cut through his clothes and skin. Pillars collapsed, falling to the ground with a loud crash. Only just in time, Ferhdessar rolled out of the way of some falling pieces of debris. Everywhere around him he heard moaning and coughing. Thick clouds of dust hung between the remnants of the walls. They obstructed his view. Ferhdessar tried to get back up to continue the fight. Exhausted, he fell back to the floor.

  He felt hands under his armpits. A soldier dragged him away.

  “We need to fight Kasimirh,” Ferhdessar whispered.

  “We are, lord. I’m bringing you to safety.”

  “I have to…”

  He didn’t have the strength to finish his sentence.

  Ghalatea had been stumbling after the others until someone had lifted her up. They fled across the bridge to the citadel on another rock pillar. Suddenly, the bridge trembled. Ghalatea grabbed hold of the man who was carrying her. Looking over his shoulder, she saw the dome collapse.

  Soldiers were running in the opposite direction. Someone screamed that some men had to guard the bridge. They ran into the citadel and went through the first door they encountered. Yvar was put down on the ground. Nigesanla knelt down next to him. She was frantic with grief.

  Ghalatea was put down in a chair. “Are you all right, Ancilla Princeps?”

  Only now did she notice that it had been general Kiril who had carried her. She nodded.

  Rogan knelt down beside Nigesanla and felt Yvar’s pulse.

  “Is he alive?” Ghalatea asked in a grating voice. Her throat felt swollen and raw.

  Rogan shook his head slowly.

  “It was Kasimirh,” Ghalatea whispered, eyes closed. “I knew it when I saw him, but he did something to me before I could warn the guard.”

  Kiril nodded. “Zuzeca must have brought him here. It was a trap.”

  Ghalatea looked at Nigesanla. The woman was leaning over Yvar. She caressed his cheek and called his name. He wedding dress was burned. Rogan fetched a bowl of water and cooled her leg. She hardly even noticed.

  “It’s her fault!” Ghalatea wanted to scream it out loud, but she couldn’t. “She brought them to the palace.”

  Nigesanla glanced at her over her shoulder. She wanted to say something but thought better of it and focused her attention on the king. Rogan motioned for another soldier to take over the cooling. He went to Ghalatea.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” he asked, as he took her into his arms.

  Ghalatea started to cry, but shook her head.

  “You were so lucky.”

  She was starting to realized that. Kasimirh wasn’t in the habit of sparing his enemies’ lives.

  Rogan held her face in his hands. “I don’t think that Nigesanla had anything to do with this. Be kind to her, because her future has just been destroyed.”

  “Merzia’s future,” Ghalatea said bitterly. Her life had revolved around Yvar, what was to become of her now that he was dead?
She wasn’t convinced of Nigesanla’s innocence.

  “Merzia still has a future,” Nigesanla said in a clear voice. “I’m carrying Yvar’s child.”

  Ghalatea was dumbfounded. Before she could say anything, however, the door opened. Ferhdessar entered, supported by a soldier.

  “Is he dead?” Nigesanla asked immediately.

  Ferhdessar looked up at her, suspicion shining in his eyes. “Who do you mean?”

  “The person who killed lord Yvar, of course.”

  “They are still fighting Kasimirh.”

  “Then what are you doing here. Go back!” Nigesanla ordered.

  Ferhdessar fell down into a chair. Ghalatea walked up to him and quickly examined him. “He doesn’t look like he can fight any more, now does he, Nigesanla?” She was appalled by the shards of glass sticking out of his body. “A surgeon should look at him. Is there one around?” she asked no one in particular.

  “Just do what you can, Ghalatea. I don’t want to wait. I can’t wait for someone to arrive.”

  “Fine, I need clean water and towels. Quickly!” Ghalatea ordered the soldier that had brought Ferhdessar in. He saluted and left the room.

  “So, Yvar is dead?” Ferhdessar sighed.

  Ghalatea nodded. A hush fell over the room. Everyone was in low spirits.

  “But Merzia is not yet defeated,” Ferhdessar whispered. “Kasimirh will lose.”

  “Absolutely,” said Kiril.

  The soldier returned with the items that Ghalatea had asked for. She removed the pieces of glass from Ferhdessar’s body and bandaged the wounds. Some were deep and actually needed stitches, but she didn’t have the right equipment. Ferhdessar barely let on that he was in pain. He was staring continuously at Yvar’s body. Ghalatea looked him in the eye. The pain she saw in there was immeasurable. She put her hand on his shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

  “Apart from us, no one can know that the king is dead,” Ferhdessar said, at long last breaking the silence. “The people need to maintain hope, and Kasimirh must be kept wondering. He doesn’t know for sure that his attack has succeeded.”

  “Can you hold your arm up?” Ghalatea asked quietly.

  Ferhdessar did as she asked and continued: “Have the king embalmed. We don’t know when we will be able to bury him.”

  This time it was Kiril who left the room. Ferhdessar rested his head in his hand. He was still holding his other arm up. One of his wounds started bleeding heavily when Ghalatea pulled out the piece of glass. She pressed a wad of bandages against it. “It might be better for you to lie down.”

  Ferhdessar shook his head, so she motioned for Rogan to come. “Make sure that he doesn’t faint and slide off the chair.”

  She wrapped a bandage tightly around the wad and his arm. She continued in silence until she had treated all wounds. “There’s one more thing you need to know,” she said. Ferhdessar gave her a questioning look. “Nigesanla is pregnant.”

  The sorcerer looked at Nigesanla, still sitting beside the king. She had wrapped her arms around her legs and her head was resting on her knees.

  “Pregnant? By whom?”

  Nigesanla shot him a menacing look. “Lord Yvar of course. Who else?”

  “There are a lot of men walking around in the palace. It could very well have been someone else.”

  Nigesanla shrugged. “I don’t care what you think. I know that my baby is the heir to the throne.” She caressed Yvar’s hair. “He was so happy when Gaia’s priest confirmed it. For a short moment we were happy together.” She swallowed, but she couldn’t hold back the tears. Her body was shaking.

  Ghalatea still didn’t know what to think of her. Was she a grieving widow or a traitor with first-class acting skills?

  “Was that all part of your plan?” Ferhdessar asked. Nigesanla didn’t respond. “Did Kasimirh tell you to get pregnant? Is he going to raise the child into Jakob’s faith in order to seize power over Merzia?”

  “What are you talking about?” Nigesanla screamed. “I knew nothing about him. I didn’t know that he was conspiring with my father. How could I have known? I was nothing but a disgrace to him. Kasimirh attacked me as well. Maybe they hoped that I would die, too.” She bowed her head. “I was a disgrace in his eyes, but also in yours. I was thinking about the future of Merzia when I went to lord Yvar that night, but now that I’m pregnant you condemn me for it.”

  “Ghalatea, there’s a key in my pouch. Will you get it for me?”

  When he had the key, Ferhdessar asked: “Who’s the father of your child?”

  “Lord Yvar.”

  “Were your privy to the alliance between Kasimirh and Zuzeca?”

  “No,” she answered, sounding hoarse with restrained anger.

  “Did you know about the attack on the king?”

  She shook her head and hid her face behind her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. “If only they had confided in me. Then I could have prevented all of this from happening.”

  “Did you want the king dead?”

  “No!” she screamed.

  “What do you believe in?”

  Nigesanla didn’t immediately answer the question. “I don’t know,” she finally said.

  “Who knows about your pregnancy?”

  “Only you and the priest.”

  “You haven’t told your father? You didn’t tell one of your mothers about that night? Or anyone else who can betray you?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t tell anyone. My mothers don’t know anything, but I suspect that all maidservants will know that I spent the night with him. There’s so much gossip in the palace…”

  Ferhdessar looked at Ghalatea. She shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything about it. And rumours can be denied.”

  Ferhdessar nodded and put away the key. “You’ll give birth to the child, but after a year I’ll take charge of its upbringing. Yvar’s child will be a worthy ruler of Merzia.”

  Nigesanla caressed her stomach. “And what about me?”

  “You will have a good life.”

  “Do I get to keep seeing my child?”

  Ferhdessar shrugged and looked at the soldier. “What’s your name?”

  “Halith, lord.”

  “Come here.” Halith came to stand before him. Ferhdessar put his finger against the soldier’s lips and used some magic. “Everything that has been discussed here, will remain a secret. You won’t talk about it with anyone, you won’t write it down or make it public in any way. Now, leave this room.”

  Halith saluted and left. Ferhdessar used the armrests of his chair to push himself to his feet. He staggered and Rogan grabbed hold of him.

  “You need to rest,” said Ghalatea.

  Ferhdessar nodded. “But we also need to recapture the palace.”

  He left the room. Kiril joined him. Merzians were flocking into the citadel, desperately searching for safety. Most of them didn’t even notice Ferhdessar, who had to work his way through the crowd.

  It was raining. On the opposite side of the bridge the battered palace was outlined by the pitch-black clouds. Some of the lights that had illuminated the dome from the outside were still working. They highlighted the frayed edges of the crumbled walls.

  Panic broke out on the bridge. Kiril nudged Ferhdessar and pointed to the left. An even darker shape was visible in the sky.

  “Lilith!” Ferhdessar cursed. “So she has come, after all.” He had been wondering why she hadn’t been involved in the attack until then.

  Kiril gathered some soldiers. “Fire at will!”

  Gunshots sounded everywhere. Lilith didn’t seem to notice. She scorched the people running over the bridge.

  Ferhdessar wanted to use magic, but he couldn’t produce more than a spark of light. He cursed again. The soldiers delivered volley after volley, but not a single bullet seemed to hit Lilith.

  She gained some height before plunging down. She smashed the bridge with a powerful beat of her tail. Screaming, people disappeared into the deep. Apparen
tly, Lilith’s work was done, because she rapidly disappeared from sight.

  Ferhdessar spotted the silhouette of a man watching from the palace wall. He was illuminated from behind, but it wasn’t hard to picture the glee on his face.

  Just you wait, Kasimirh. You might have taken control of the palace, but not of Merzia.

  Ferhdessar turned around and stumbled back inside. A long night lay ahead of him, during which he, and the generals who had made their way to the citadel, needed to make plans about how they were going to win back Nadesh.

  28

  Kasimirh crossed the narrow bridge to the only uninhabited rock peak in Nadesh. Soon, the bridge was going to be widened to make way for the crowds of believers coming this way. The tall grass was going to be mowed as well.

  Kasimirh moved his hands over the plumes of grass and walked to the remains of a temple a bit further down. He stopped when he came to a pillar. He removed the climbing plants and perused the weather-beaten signs that had been chiselled into the stone.

  The Light has created me.

  I withdrew into shadow.

  Now the darkness is holding me.

  Kasimirh ran his fingers down the letters that formed “darkness”. They were almost illegible, as if someone had purposefully scratched them out. The letters couldn’t spell anything else, though.

  Would the Nicasians have known what this place was? Had they admitted their guilt to Jakob through these texts? Kasimirh read on.

  Until the Light finds me again, I will be penitent.

  The Light had finally found these people, but Kasimirh didn’t encounter much gratitude. The Merzians still hadn’t reconciled themselves to the new situation, even though the palace had been in Kasimirh’s hands for a few days now.

  He turned around and looked at the city. Up until a few days ago, the mighty dome of the palace had been visible from this spot, but now a number of high-rise buildings hid the ruined palace from view. Not everything had gone according to plan. Nevertheless, Kasimirh was content. Soon, all of Nadesh would be his. It was just a matter of time.