by Jon Kiln
Chapter 11: Blood in the Sand
“Be sure they are tight,” Lord Caffrey said to the sour-faced man who was restraining Berengar. “His wrists are large, but I don’t need him slipping free. There. The way he is holding his fists clenched all ham fisted like that. It makes the shackles loose once he opens his hands up to slide them out. Make him open his hands and then tighten them. Why am I doing all the work for you, fool?”
The mercenary peeled Berengar’s fingers open and then bolted the shackles a few degrees tighter on his wrists.
Caffrey wrapped another bolt of material around his thin shoulders, trying to keep warm. He bound the seam on the diagonal using two jeweled broaches. He looked like some field stock due for shearing with all the layers. The exiled noble had three hoods up over his head guarding him from the drizzle as his men loaded the wagons on the shore of the sea.
“Where are we going?” Berengar asked.
“Are you in a hurry, Captain?” Caffrey did not bother turning towards him. “Am I keeping you from some important appointment?”
Berengar leaned back on the bench in the open wagon as men prepared the horses teamed on the front. Caffrey sat down across from him. The nobleman leaned forward and frowned. Berengar stared at the lord in his triple hoods. For some reason he expected a man like Caffrey to ride in a closed wagon—a rolling palace on straining wheels and axles—like some of the other high nobility Berengar had to deal with in the past. A man who had to bundle up so against a light drizzle hardly seemed up for riding in the open.
Caffrey sat up straight and gave a muffled snap of his fingers from his gloved hand. A group of armed men sprung to the side of the wagon in response. Their eyes were wide and Berengar saw a slight shake from each of them as they awaited orders.
Caffrey pointed across at Captain Berengar. “This man has too much slack in the chain behind his back. I do not need him trying to wrap the thing around my neck when I doze off.”
One of the men ran behind Berengar and pulled the length of chain attached to the shackles through the hole under the wagon and bench. His wrists pulled taut and strained his shoulders. Berengar gritted his teeth, but did not fight it. If he tried to draw up to gain more leverage, he suspected Caffrey would see it and just have them pull tighter.
“A bit snug, Captain?”
The man re-bolted the chain underneath the wagon.
“You could set me free,” Berengar said, “and I could promise not to choke you to death, since the Eye allows us to trust one another like you said.”
Caffrey chuckled and looked away. “I think I can guess where that path would lead without using the power of the Great Artifact.”
Berengar stared out across the expanse of the steely gray sea as it stretched out to the horizon. He knew the island lay beyond. He wondered if Nisero was searching for the Corner of the Eye or if he was already mounting a pursuit. Berengar glanced around at the forces around him that had unloaded from the fleet of ships. They had to outnumber the Elite Guard five to one. Berengar wondered how many of the southern forces could be on the kingdom’s border, if Caffrey had this great of a contingent with him.
“He’s not coming for you,” Caffrey said. “And even if he did, that would not end well for him at all. If your Lieutenant has any sense about him, he’ll see about retrieving the Eye.”
Berengar brought his attention back on Caffrey. “You already have the piece from the island, don’t you?”
“I do not. I know you don’t believe me, but it is the truth. I have the Blue Corner from under Faithcore Castle and we are going to get the fourth piece. I expect your side of the conflict to obtain the other pieces for me.”
“Seems like a risky plan. Without being able to use the Eye to see how the other pieces would fall out, I can’t imagine you would gamble your destiny on such a thing. Of course, you backed Marlex’s failed takeover, so maybe your sharp mind has its own limits and blind spots.”
Caffrey rolled his eyes. “Mind games from a common soldier. How novel. As I told you when you accosted me in my home, I did not back Marlex. I just did not lift a finger to help Ramael avoid any of it.”
“You seem to be lifting a finger now.”
“My time is coming. There will be time for you to see your part in it all soon enough.”
Solag stepped up beside the wagon on Caffrey’s side. Her hood was up so that only her mouth and part of her nose showed. She held on the edge of the bench with her one arm. Even without seeing her full face again, Berengar felt goose flesh prickle across his skin.
Caffrey turned his head to the side within his hoods. “Yes, General?”
“Since this part is done,” Solag reported, “do you want me to return to the front?”
“I need you with me from here on out. Things will begin moving quickly soon.”
“The front will not hold if our enemy decides to attack. They lack leadership.”
Caffrey raised a fist and shook it in the air. “Doesn’t matter either way. The second front has served its purpose. Your purpose is with me now through the final phases of my plan. Lead us out once we are ready.”
As Solag left, Berengar watched. When his eyes returned to Caffrey, he saw the dark lord was smiling.
“Give me some insight into your mind, Captain. What is it like to see her walking around with you at her mercy? Or is your past returning to bite you a thing that has become quite common?”
Berengar grunted and shrugged, rattling the chain under him. “I’m just surprised she has stayed her hand from opening me up for this long.”
“The Artifact has great power even in its fragmented state. I was able to see to healing her body and her mind. It is hard for common men such as yourself to understand the full power of what our world is about to see.”
“I can hardly wait,” Berengar said sarcastically. “If I taunt her enough, do you think I could coax her to violence? Maybe a grave mistake in judgment?”
“She will serve her purpose. Cutting you is not her part this time. I have promised her other things. That being said, when the time comes, I doubt I can keep her from torturing and killing your daughter and grandson. There is only so much restraint we can expect from such a person.”
“I will have to get her close then,” Berengar decided. “See if I can anger her enough to make a mistake.”
“Good luck with that, Captain. You appear to have us right where you want us.” Caffrey looked away and watched the men as they finished loading the wagon.
They set out along the trail leading away from the shore.
***
They took three days crossing grasslands that seem broad and barren. Large swaths of land were burned down to charred gristle. They kept Captain Berengar chained, staked down, and guarded.
The grasses gave way to sandy desert with heat rising off the wastes in a way that made the distant mountains waver. They limited Berengar’s water and his lips split from being dry.
He started seeing visions more disturbing than any the Eye had shown him. He kept watching the deaths of old friends and family over and over. Soon, he felt like he was never going to leave the desert and that he had lived here in chains his entire life. It was the only world he had ever known.
He saw trees and flowing water in the midst of a rock outcropping wavering ahead of them in the heat. Berengar thought it was another vision until he realized it wasn’t vanishing.
Dark figures moved out from the edge of the oasis.
Solag drew back on her horse to ride alongside Caffrey. “The oasis is occupied, sir.”
“We were expecting them to meet here. They just arrived before us.”
Berengar bowed his head away from the beating sun.
The wagons drew up into and along the trees. Five men armed with swords with their heads wrapped and covered faced the group between them and the pools of water.
“You mind if we refresh before we get down to business?” Caffrey asked.
The men stepped aside and
the group serving under Caffrey moved to water the animals and refill their water skins.
“This is a larger company that we were expecting, Lord Caffrey.”
Caffrey eyed the men. “And none of you are Xerath. None of you can offer the deal I am seeking to close. So why are you here?”
“We were waiting for your arrival to be sure there was no subterfuge.”
One of Caffrey’s people brought him a hollow gourd filled with water from the pools. He drank slowly as Berengar watched. Seeing Caffrey in all his layers made Berengar feel hotter than he already was, sitting in the brutal sun. Without looking back at the men, Caffrey asked, “You can tell such a thing from the way I sit? I said I was coming. I told what I intended. And I am here. So, where is Xerath?”
“He is in a cave nearby. He has soldiers. We will bring him.”
“Then do so,” Caffrey demanded impatiently.
Two of the five men mounted up and rode north.
Caffrey sipped again before looking up at Berengar. “Thirsty, Captain?”
“A bit.” Berengar’s voice was nails scratching across slate.
Caffrey stood and crossed the wagon. He tipped the gourd to Berengar’s lips and allowed him to drink slowly.
“You are a dangerous man,” Caffrey observed. “I recognize it, being one myself. Of course, I am dangerous in a different way, but you get my meaning. We’ve kept you dry on this journey to keep the fight out of you. I was tempted to dunk your head below the water once we arrived. It seemed delicious to have you dying of thirst and drowning at the same time. I already pulled a water trap on you though, so I decided not to be repetitive.”
Berengar ducked his head to take the last few drops. Caffrey obliged him and then sat back down with the empty gourd.
“Do you want more, Captain?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm, no resistance or threats? No pride or defiance?”
“No.”
“Very well.” Caffrey held up the gourd. “More water for the Captain, please.”
One of the men took the gourd and went to the pools to obey.
“What land are we in?” Berengar asked.
“This is called a desert.” Caffrey waved his hand.
Berengar looked away.
Caffrey said, “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. Technically, we are in the eastern kingdom. As you can imagine, there is not much clamor for this ground. Ramael’s forces don’t want to fight in it, so the king of the east does not have to defend it. It makes it a fine place to parlay, if you stock up on water first. It is also close to where the fourth piece is hidden. You are not terribly popular here and yet everyone wants to have their hands on you. Interesting paradox, no?”
“Who is Xerath?”
Caffrey smiled. “He is the heir.”
Berengar cleared his throat, but thought he tasted blood. “I thought the heir died upon your doorstep.”
“Well, that’s how thrones work, now isn’t it? Once you kill all the heirs, they end up finding another one,” Caffrey said. “Royalty are like vermin in that way.”
The man returned with the gourd and Caffrey motioned toward the Captain. The man sighed, but then tilted the gourd up for Berengar to drink.
“You line all the accomplishments of your life end to end, Captain,” Caffrey continued, “and you have only ever been a bargaining chip. That is how King Ramael sees you and uses you. That is what you are to the royal family in the east. Solag used your own family that way. That’s what you and your Lieutenant were to Marlex and to Forseth. That is how you will end your life. You can hardly be happy about that.”
The man lowered the empty gourd and waited.
Berengar licked his chapped lips, moistening them. “A bargaining chip has value. I am flattered so many people hold me as valuable.”
“Marvelous attitude. You face death with honor. Even I can respect that while thinking you are stupid for accepting your fate so.” Caffrey motioned toward the man with the gourd. “Get more water. I want the Captain’s energy back up so that he looks presentable, and so he gives Xerath trouble for having made me to wait.”
The man returned to the pool and Solag approached. “The Prince’s party is coming.”
Caffrey stood, patting dust off his clothes. “Unchain the Captain and get him down. Leave his hands bound with the cord, of course.”
Caffrey stepped down into the sand as Solag climbed up with her face shadowed in her hood. Solag took hold of Berengar’s shoulder and coaxed him forward. The scar on the Captain’s cheek began to itch with Solag’s hand so close to the mark she had given him. Berengar blinked reflexively as he stared at her nails. They were shorter and cleaner than he remembered from before. Like her mind, they seemed disturbingly even and in order. He thought she could probably draw blood and leave another scar were she motivated to do so. She had a key clutched between the fingers of her one hand.
Solag released Berengar’s shoulder and worked the key in the shackles behind the Captain’s back. He felt the metal peel away from the flesh and he felt the raw skin left from days of abrasions. The air, sun, and sweat stung the stripes around his wrists where he knew bloody scabs now stood out. He could tell from the feel of it, but also from long experience bringing in shackled prisoners. Experiencing the abrasions firsthand made Berengar rethink the practice. When they had important prisoners, there were ways to pad the metal to prevent the raw abrasions. He felt disappointed in that moment that his own humanity had not motivated him to do so more often with common enemy prisoners.
As the shackles came free and clanked on the bed of the wagon under his bench, Solag pulled at the leather thongs that had bound his wrists under the shackles and irritated his scarred wrists further. Berengar showed his teeth and hissed in response.
Solag leaned down close to his ear and whispered from with the darkness of her shadowed hood. It took Berengar a moment to process her words as he expected her to say something entirely different from what she was actually saying. “I’m going to stand you up and walk you out to the edge of the wagon. We are going to jump down. The sand is harder than it looks, so bend your knees for the landing.”
She pulled at his shoulder and he stood. They went out to the edge and jumped down as instructed. Berengar felt and heard the hardpan of the cracked ground around the oasis scrape under his boots as Solag led him to Caffrey’s side.
They faced outwards across the dunes where dozens of riders approached, wrapped in dark robes. They were a large party, but not as large as the compliment with Caffrey.
“Thank you, General,” Caffrey said. “See to helping the prince’s men and horses at the water.”
As Solag and some of the other men moved to the pools, a short man slid off his horse and staggered a few paces. One of the larger warriors jumped down and steadied the small fellow preventing him from falling. Berengar thought the man might have misjudged the landing on the hardpan the way Solag had warned.
The short man pulled back the wrap of cloth from his sweaty brow and limped toward Caffrey and Berengar. He was flanked by a half dozen armed warriors as the other men saw to watering their horses and refilling their water skins with Solag.
The hobbling man had a brow that protruded out unnaturally far under his dark, bushy eyebrows.
Caffrey bowed deeply. “Prince Xerath. It is an honor indeed. I look forward to shedding much blood with you.”
The men around Xerath gave a chuckle.
“I tend to leave the bloodshed to others,” Xerath said dismissively. “I was more of an artist before this man murdered my brother and made me a politician.”
“I did not kill your brother,” Berengar said. He tilted his head to the side. “This man did.”
One of the warriors next to the prince balled his fist and took a step toward Berengar. The Captain squared his shoulders and braced himself for the punch. Xerath held up a hand and halted the man.
“In this case,” Xerath said, “my father wants to see every blow landed on th
e legendary Captain Berengar. I’d love to see him bleed now too, but that is for another day. Today’s business is an alliance so we can see Ramael himself bleed.”
“And so you shall,” Caffrey assured the prince. “When you one day replace your beloved father on the throne, it will be over a kingdom twice the size of what he ruled. Southern forces are ready to join you in a joint attack that will end Ramael’s reign of terror and punish him for having this man oversee the death of your beloved brother.”
Xerath shrugged. “No need for the dramatics. My father will handle the speeches. My father and brother did not even care to acknowledge my existence before the assassination, but that’s neither here nor there. Blood. Blood. Havoc and vengeance. So on and so forth.”
Caffrey laughed, but without humor. “I would be most interested in seeing your reign one day, Prince Xerath. You seem to have the disposition of a king I could get behind.”
“A pleasure overthrowing kingdoms with you, Lord Caffrey, as always. My commander has the specifics my father wishes to work out concerning the attacks.”
Caffrey pointed toward the pools. “He is already speaking with my General. As you said, other men can see to our bloodshed. Unless…”
Caffrey drew a knife from his belt inside the billowing layers of his clothes. The soldiers around Xerath grabbed the hilts of their swords. Men from both companies looked up from the oasis at the commotion. Xerath’s eyes went wide and he looked back and forth from the blade in Caffrey’s hand and the man’s face within his three hoods.
“Easy.” Caffrey smiled and held the hilt of the knife out toward Xerath with the point of the knife aimed back at Berengar. “You are sure you don’t want to give him a little cut just so he knows you are willing to do so, if he causes trouble on the journey back to meet your bereaved father?”
The men around Xerath took their hands from their hilts. One waved toward the oasis and the other men seemed to relax as well.
“No, not particularly,” Xerath begged off. “How much trouble can he give me with his hands bound, in the middle of the wastes?”
“How much, indeed?” Caffrey said still holding out the hilt of the knife. He pushed down on Berengar’s shoulder bringing the Captain to his knees. He could have resisted, but Berengar figured there was no point in resisting only to have his knee kicked out from under him. Caffrey said, “You are sure you do not want just a little slice or dice to get in practice before you are a king yourself? I can show you how to mark him where it won’t show. It will be good to learn how to take a pound of flesh now that you are in politics.”
