Benedict

by Jackson Bennett

  Phoebe left them in the chamber alone touching Grace’s hand gently as she departed. “Come,” said Grace “Let us get out of their way and see the rest of the cavern and the wondrous people that are here.” So they left the women to pack their belongings and to get ready for the battle to come.

  Epilogue

  The Red City

  With his legs burning and the small of his back aching Kalill stopped, placed one end of his delicately carved staff on the floor, its highly polished other end glinting feebly in the mist shrouded sunlight above his head, leaned forward allowing his arms to take some of his weight, giving a short rest bite to his aching back, and joined the unnaturally quiet queue of those wishing to enter the city of the Red Lord.

  The queue was vast, stretching beyond the sprawling makeshift shanty town that spread out from the immense city walls that had somehow become a permanent feature despite the best efforts of the city guards that paroled this place in vast numbers, and into the fields that stretched beyond. The crops that grew here were woefully small and lacklustre for the time of year, as were the men and women who were bent to the task of tending them. Those that he had met on his journey along rounded, red cobbled road had seemed almost lifeless, their eyes staring and vacant, who approached or spoken to had flinched and cowered as if expecting a physical attack.

  He waited in silence, slowly shuffling forwards as the ever growing queue made its way slowly towards the open heavily guarded gates, huge iron studded gates that he had seen many times in the past, but had never had occasion to pass through before. The massive red domed buildings that sprawled across the cliff face beyond, their glazed windows, like menacing black eyes watching over the city below.

  For ten years he had guarded the merchants that plied their trade along the disparate warring lands and clans that made up the northern lands, and had seen in that time the rise of the Red Lord as his crushing hand took a tight grip on the land, moulding it into a land of fear and hardship. The desert lands of his people that lay to the south had remained untouched, the small nomadic tribes offering no threat or obstacle to his plans of conquest and domination, their small raiding parties for cattle and crops being of no more a threat than a flea to a dog; or at least that had been the case.

  Increasingly armed parties of men were crossing the mountain border, having somehow discovered the way through the labyrinth of passes and dead ends, penetrating deep into their lands in search of his people, people that they sold as slaves in the new towns and markets that had sprung up everywhere.

  Kalill found himself here, standing in line waiting to gain access to the red city as a direct consequence of one of these raids, a raid that had seen his younger brother and sister taken to be sold and the rest of his family killed in their defence, their burnt ashen bodies scattered to the four winds.

  Word of the attacks had reached him over a year ago and he had returned home to help protect his family only to find that he was too late, they were gone. He had stripped the dead that had not been burnt and had left the empty carcass’s to the carrion beasts of the desert as was their custom, offering up a prayer in their names in the hope that those that had been desecrated by fire would find their way to the heavens as the desecration had not been by the hand of their kin, and taking a single item from each of them so that they would live on in his memory and the memory of those to come. Each of those items he still carried about his person as a reminder of who his people were and the revenge that they cried out for.

  His father’s staff seemed to burn in his hands at the memory, his beardless partly burned face passing before his eyes. He corrected himself, the staff was now his as was the burden of leadership of the family, for he was now their chief. When he had left all those years before to gain knowledge and martial experience, of which he had gained much, he had been the sixth of seven sons with one older and one younger sister, which should have meant that he would never possess the burden of the staff, but now they were all dead with the exception of the youngest two, and everything had changed.

  Kalill looked up at the city of the Red Lord, the city that somewhere within its stark, red brooding walls held his brother and sister in bonds of slavery, and saw the many faces of the men that had decimated his family, faces that had been filled with pain at the end. It had taken him nearly a year to track them all down and they had all talked, giving the name of the city to which they had taken all the captives in the hope that it would save their lives, a hope that had been very short lived.

  The line shuffled silently forwards as the guards at the gate admitted some and turned away others. Kalill moved forwards, watching them out of the corner of his eye and noting that they seemed to be allowing in the more affluent of those queuing whilst turning away the more undesirable element. He patted the hidden pocket at his left breast and heard the faint jangle of coins. He smiled to himself and shuffled forwards.

  Kalill had been to the city of the red lord many times before guarding the supplies of various merchant’s, but on no occasion had he entered preferring instead to stay outside and guard the horses and await the merchant’s return, for there had been something about the way the city had felt that he hadn’t liked. As he stood there that feeling returned, but this time unlike the last he had a need to enter, a desperate need to find his sister and brother, a need that was more powerful.

  Finally he shuffled forwards and greeted the guards.

  “Good morning,” he said in a jovial tone of voice.

  “State your business,” demanded the right hand guard, an over-fat man who had a voice used to speaking down to people, and a fat upturned nose that put Kalill in mind of a pig.

  “To see the city and pick up some trading goods,” he replied having watched them earlier and thus knowing that he was more likely to be admitted if they believed him to be a merchant.

  “You don’t look like a merchant,” returned the fat guard. “Here Max, he look like a merchant?” he shouted to the gangly, stick thin guard to Kalill’s left.

  “Naw Mike, maybe he should show you his money!” replied Max peering down his large hooked, beak like nose.

  “You heard the man, show me your money,” demanded Mike.

  Kalill pulled the bag from beneath his shirt and hefted it in front of the guard, the coins within jingling as he did. Mike’s small piggy eyes gleamed as he raised his hand towards the bag, but before he could touch it Kalill slipped it back into his shirt. He looked around him as if expecting someone to try to steal it and leaned in close.

  “You don’t know who could be watching, you need to be so careful these days,” he whispered guardedly.

  Mike licked his lips and stared with open avarice at the pocket into which Kalill had slipped the coins. “Indeed,” was all he could say.

  “Can I pass then?” Kalill asked his voice normal once more.

  Mike nodded and waved him through. Although Kalill didn’t turn around he knew that the guard’s small greedy eyes didn’t leave him until he had disappeared from sight, he smiled to himself as he walked deeper into the city. He smiled because he knew that the coins that had impressed the man so much were practically worthless as they were all copper coins from his homeland, coins that were not recognised here in the heart of the Red Lords Empire. The few gold and other coins that were worth anything here were kept in a smaller bag inside the belt of his tunic.

  He had expected to see a city that was clean and industrious, and one that befit the empire that it ruled, but instead he was greeted with grime and filth everywhere and people that shuffled about with their heads bowed and eyes fixed firmly on the ground, who twitched whenever anyone came to near.

  It was a grand city of that there was no doubt, with its towers and domed buildings of once polished red stone, but it was left sorely wanting when compared with some of the smaller yet grander cities in the south to which he had travelled.

&n
bsp; Because he had never been there before he tried to stop several people to ask for directions to the Red Lord, for he had the power to order whomever it was to release his siblings, but each time they pulled away as if his touch was fire or full of contagion and became ever more hunched as if trying to disappear.

  In exasperation Kalill scanned the junction of streets that he now found himself within, searching for a signpost or other indicator as to where he should go.

  “Kalill,” bellowed a familiar voice behind him taking him by surprise.

  As he turned he was clamped in a bear hug that drove the air from his lungs.

  “Bandor,” he breathlessly replied as he attempted to return the hug.

  Releasing him Bandor stood before Kalill, a big barrel chested man who had tree trunk arms and legs that had on more than one occasion left would be thief’s bereft of their senses and often their lives. He was a merchant by trade who specialized in precious stones and rarities from the so called Age of Dreams, an age which Kalill firmly believed did not exist and one that Bandor believed did. For five years they had travelled together, Bandor having hired Kalill as a guard when he had seen him defend himself in the street when the young man had been attacked by four men. He had been so impressed with his martial skill, a skill that was rarely seen outside of the desert that he approached him with an offer of business, which was accepted almost immediately as Kalill had wished to see more of the world and the offered employment promised a paid way to do so. In those five years they had become firm friends, debating and arguing about almost everything, the news of the attacks on his people being the only reason Kalill had left. That had been nearly a year and a half ago.

  “What are you doing here?” Bandor asked with a huge grin across his face, “and how are your family, well I trust.”

  “I am here to see the Red Lord. My family are all dead my friend, save for my youngest brother and sister who were brought here to be sold as slaves,” he replied, his voice showing none of the tumultuous emotions that burned within him.

  Bandor’s bearded face lost its smile.

  “I am on my way to see him now to ask for his help,” he added, “if I can find my way.”

  “You will not get in to see him until morning; for they admit none until after the nine bells are tolled,” Bandor told his friend as he placed a consolatory hand on his shoulder. “When you do please be careful, he is a man not to be trusted,” he added in a whisper, “you will find him within the domed tower on the hill,” he finished pointing towards the building that dominated the hillside at the rear of the city.

  “In that case I will need a room for the night. Where are you staying?” asked Kalill.

  “Alas I am just leaving,” Bandor said slapping his stomach, which rattled with the coins hidden there. “I have just sold a fine silver gauntlet from the Age of Dreams to the Red Lord, and despite his cheating me I still managed to make a fine profit,” he said with a conspiratorial wink, “and now I need to be in New Port in ten days to receive my next shipment. If you have the coin the Dancing Lady is the place to stay, the food is good and the women accommodating,” he said with a chuckle and a smile. “Tell them I sent you.”

  “Won’t that stop them serving me?” said Kalill with a deadpan face.

  Bandor laughed and slapped him on the shoulder “Be careful,” he said, “Oh and you can find the Dancing Lady on the east end of the city, you cannot miss her she has stables attached.”

  “Thank you,” said Kalill

  Bandor inclined his head and turning away left the city of the Red Lord.

  Kalill watched him leave and then headed towards the east end of the city as directed. Each and every person he passed seemed to be lifeless and dishevelled as if they did not care about living, their homes, reflecting their broken spirits, barred and locked up tight with only the scrawny light from candles appearing through the cracks.

  As he travelled a depression began to settle on him, pushing down on his shoulders that made him slump forwards and shuffle his feet as those all around him were. He found the Dancing Lady as directed, her exterior in no better state of repair than the rest of the grime covered buildings around her, and not feeling very hopeful entered.

  Inside was a different story, the place was immaculate, the walls were clean as were the cliental that lined the bar and filled the tables. The depression lifted from his shoulders almost the instant that he passed through the door and with a lighter step he approached the bar.

  “Good afternoon ma’am, I’m looking for lodgings,” he said to the middle aged plump woman who was pouring flagons of wine behind the bar.

  “Sorry luv, we dunna have any vacancies,” she said with a distrust in her eyes that was completely absent from her voice.

  “Bandor sent me,” he returned hoping to change her mind.

  The mention of his friends name did more than that, for it put a smile on her face and a skip in her voice.

  “Of course, for special guests we can always find room. That will be one gold piece per week,” she said holding out her hand.

  “I only require one night,” he replied, hoping to negotiate the price down.

  “I am afraid we only take guests for one week or longer, due to having to buy in the best food,” she said with no sign of a lie on her lips. “If you wish to stay for only one night then that is your choice, but it will still be one gold piece.”

  Kalill fished inside his belt and produced a gold coin, which left him with only two more and placed it in her hand.

  “Your room is at the top of the stairs over there,” she said pointing to his left at a small inconspicuous door, “I serve dinner at seven bells and breakfast at eight bells,” she added as she slipped the coin into her ample cleavage. “If you require company that will be an extra gold coin per week,” she finished with a twinkle in her eye. “Oh and no pets allowed.”

  “I will be fine alone,” he said smiling, “but thank you for the offer,” he added and with that he went to his room.

  There he found a firm straw stuffed mattress that was clean and fresh and a table on which was sat a wash bowl and jug of cold water. Carefully he placed them both onto the floor and began to lay out the items that he had taken from the dead on the now bare table top.

  He knew each piece intimately and to whom it had belonged. There was a hair comb that had belonged to his mother, the ornate staff that had belonged to his father and his father before that, a small glass ball that had the carved likeness of a spider set within it that had belonged to the little mischievous girl Serena and many more.

  One after the other he placed the items on the table until he pulled forth the last one that had belonged to his grandmother. It was an unusual item and he had no idea what it was or what it was for. The object was black, about the size of his thumb nail and square and flat with strange letter like symbols on one side that he could not read, that surrounded a small, almost invisible button that bleeped when depressed. On the other side were a series of mounds and valleys each of which had a small hole and looked like a miniature mountain range.

  When they were all in place he stood before them and closed his eyes, each of their faces appearing in the darkness, and offered up a prayer for their souls, then as the bells tolled out across the city seven times he went back downstairs for his food, which was piping hot chicken, potatoes, beans and bread covered in a thick rich gravy. It was delicious and he cleaned his plate and paying no attention to the other patrons of the bar left the table with a full stomach and went to his bed.

  ***

  In the corner of the bar a large ragged dog that had ensconced itself in the corner, chewed slowly on the bone that had been given to it by the landlady, the same landlady that never allowed pets onto her premises. It watched with eyes that held an intelligence that should not have been there as Kalill left the bar and returned
to his room. With his departure it settled down to wait, closed its eyes and concentrated on the marrow at the centre of the bone, its large powerful teeth making light work of it.

  ***

  The morning saw Kalill devour egg, bacon, sausage, cheese and ham all of the highest quality, and with his possessions replaced about his person he left for the domed tower where Bandor had said the Red Lord gave audience at nine bells followed by a flea bitten frayed dog from which everyone kept their distance.