by J. M. Topp
He had been doing very badly when Bendrick left.
A lightning bolt ripped through the skies above Bendrick. Bendrick held his breath as he realized that the bolt was devoid of light. As if a painter had thrown a splotch of ink over a beautiful blue canvas, the black lightning bolt sped through the skies and disappeared into the clouds.
‘Did you see that?’ Ayda said as she twisted in her seat. She touched the scar on her chest as if to assure herself of the power slumbering within. It began to glow just a little bit. Bendrick stared for a moment and then heard a loud, thunderous grumble in the skies. At first, it sounded like more thunder, but then the sound echoed and tapered off into a high-pitched scream. Something moved through the clouds above them. Ayda jumped in the saddle and pointed to the heavens.
‘There it is again!’
Bendrick looked to the dark cloud that she was pointing at. Bendrick’s breath caught in his throat as he observed the gigantic daemon flying high overhead. It had four dragon-like wings on its sides, but it was as big as a sea barge. The daemon didn’t so much fly as it seemed to swim through the air and clouds. It shouted once more, opening its mouth to almost twice the size of its body. For a moment, seemingly nothing came from its mouth, but then the boom of the roar struck at them. Bendrick relaxed as he realized that the daemon didn’t seem to notice them. The daemon continued to fly overhead, and suddenly, Bendrick heard another boom farther away. The daemon floated farther and farther away, taking the black clouds with it. Bendrick felt like something was watching him intently.
Bendrick realized that he was gripping the sword on his back, and he relaxed his hold on it. The hell is happening?
‘Holy shit…’ whispered Ayda, almost as if she were echoing the very same thing Bendrick was saying in his mind.
THE GREENWATER RIVER flowed south from the forest far in the north. Its crystal-clear waters streamed past Bendrick and Ayda as they approached the banks of the wide river. Bendrick had been scanning the skies for any more signs of flying daemons, but no more of the monsters were to be found. Ayda had since fallen asleep, and her head was leaning against Bendrick’s chest.
Bendrick shook his head. He wasn't replacing Sieglinde, he was merely helping Ayda on her way. When they reached Weserith, he would place her in the Academy, if the queen hadn’t destroyed that too. He would still see Ayda every once in a while, but with the Fog returned, Bendrick assumed that he would be too busy to see her all that often.
The river took a slight bend where the waters were deeper, and Bendrick decided to lightly pull on the reigns of the horse.
‘We can make camp here,’ he said, scanning the riverbank.
Ayda opened her eyes sleepily and yawned. ‘Thank the gods.’
Bendrick leaned off his mount and inspected his surroundings. A narrow dirt road followed the snaky path of the river on the opposite side of the banks. Bendrick was about to mount up and go to a more secluded spot of the river. Ayda began gathering sticks for a small fire. Bendrick sighed and unclasped his heavy cloak from his shoulders. Just as well. Not like there are many travelers on roads these days.
Bendrick grabbed the guard’s pack from the horse and pulled the Grendr bread from it. It was slightly stale, but it would be enough to fill their stomachs.
Phuff
Bendrick turned to look at Ayda, who was huddled beside a small flame. Bendrick was surprised that she had begun a fire so quickly. Ayda shivered and then looked at the bread that Bendrick was holding. ‘Yum,’ she said as she licked her lips.
Bendrick unsheathed his sword and laid it in the grass beside him as he sat down.
‘We have to ration this. We may not be able to find food for a while,’ said Bendrick.
They had made good time since leaving Duren, and no one had come up behind them looking for them. They were about a full day’s ride from Weserith now. After almost two days of non-stop riding, it was a wonder that he could still stand up with his legs so sore. Bendrick’s mouth watered as he tore off a portion of the bread and handed it to Ayda. She grabbed the piece and bit into it savagely. Bendrick also bit into the bread, but it tasted different. The more he chewed on the dry, white bread, the more he that realized something was wrong with it. His eyes opened wide as he spat the pieces of bread out. Bendrick turned to Ayda.
‘Ayda, no!’
But it was too late. She had already swallowed and was beginning to spin as she sat, drunkenly.
‘Ey. Don’t yell, old man. Me head—’
Bendrick stood and immediately picked her up from her waist.
‘Hey! Let go of me.’ She slapped at Bendrick’s arms as she tried to struggle. Bendrick brought her to the small creek as fast as he could and knelt beside it. He forced his fingers down her throat. She coughed and struggled. Tears began streaming from her eyes, and she bit Bendrick’s hand hard. Bendrick clenched his teeth, but forced his fingers even deeper into her throat. Suddenly, she coughed, and he could hear her stomach fluids coming up. Bendrick pulled his fingers from her mouth, and she retched pieces of bread and milky white water. She coughed and looked up at him.
‘The fuck are you—’
It wasn’t enough. Bendrick forced his fingers into her mouth once more, and this time, she didn’t bite. She vomited once more, as more pieces of bread came up. She slapped at him furiously, and Bendrick let go. She fell onto the grass, face beet red. She coughed and glared at him.
‘You son of a bitch, why would you do that to me?’
Bendrick ignored Ayda’s ire and landed on all fours beside the river bank. He put his finger into his mouth and triggered his own gag reflex. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he vomited similar pieces of bread and milky white substance that Ayda did. He did this twice until he was certain he had thrown up all of the harmful poisons from his stomach.
He looked at Ayda, who was staring at him intently. She wiped vomit from her lips and sat down in a huff.
‘I feel dizzy.’
‘I expect you would,’ Bendrick said as he sat down beside her. He was breathing heavily.
‘Why?’
‘That Grendr bread was filled with Wyrmroot. Most people smoke it, but when eaten, even in a mouthful, it is enough to kill a child. It is a strong hallucinogenic. It would have made me pass out for days, then it would have killed you.’ Bendrick wiped the edge of his mouth and let out a sigh of relief.
That was close.
‘How do you know all that just from tasting it?’
‘I was a professor not long ago. I taught alchemy and sword mastery.’
‘Alchemy, huh? So you can turn regular stone into gold?’
‘It doesn’t work like that exactly.’ Bendrick smiled as he spat bits of bread from his tongue. ‘We studied plants and stones, but poisons and elixirs were my specialty within them. Some other professors said they had done transmutations into precious metals, but I would have to see it to believe it.’
Ayda sat in silence, pondering Bendrick’s words.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ayda said, finally breaking the silence.
‘For what?’
‘For what I said earlier. About your daughter. It was mean.’
‘Forget about it,’ Bendrick said, giving a quick smile.
‘What was her name?’
Bendrick glanced down. It was the first time he would speak her name since her death a few days before. ‘Sieglinde.’
‘Sieglinde. It’s a pretty name.’
Bendrick bit his lip.
‘Do you think the venison is poisoned?’
‘I don’t think so, but we can check—’
Bendrick noticed that Ayda’s back stiffened. She was looking into the tree line at the horses. Bendrick turned and tensed up as well. A shadowed figure, garbed in black from head to toe stood by their horses, staring intently back at them. Bendrick stood and wobbled as he did so. Some of the root’s effects were beginning to work on him. His sword lay beside the fire, and light danced off the sharp edge from the fireli
ght.
‘What do you want?’ Bendrick called out with a warning as he walked beside the fire and picked his sword up. The figure didn’t move. Ayda stood up and tried to walk up to the fire but only tripped and fell face first. She lay there in deep sleep.
‘Bendrick, what have you done?’ asked the figure.
Bendrick recognized the voice. It was the witch.
‘You.’
‘We have things to discuss.’
Bendrick sheathed his sword across his back and walked up to her. His dizziness faded with each step he took towards her. She still wore her purple dress, and her eyes were covered with a thin strip of red cloth. She didn’t have her sword this time, only her staff. Her pale-white skin was accentuated by the accumulating darkness around them.
‘You gave it all away.’ She lowered her hood and frowned at him.
‘I saved her life.’
‘No life is worth the gift I gave you,’ she said.
‘Not even mine?’ asked Bendrick, glancing at the witch.
‘Clever, I’ll give you that.’ The witch pursed her lips and stared at Bendrick—that is, she would have, if she hadn’t had that cloth around her head. ‘You don’t know the sacrifice made in order to attain that gift. That power is wasted on her. And half-elf at that.’
‘Why do you cover your eyes?’asked Bendrick.
‘My eyes are not meant for the world to see. Only for him.’
‘Him. Who?’
‘You. Not as you are, Bendrick, but as you will be.’
‘Why don’t you speak straight to me?’ Bendrick said, shaking his head.
‘The Dark nips and bites at my flesh as it has for generations. I have lost the knack for being frank,’ replied the witch, putting one hand on her hip.
‘Generations? How old are you?’
‘Old enough to know that fate has an interesting way of intertwining people such as you and me. Through a rough twist of luck.’
The witch approached Bendrick and kissed his cheek.
‘Ever since you were young, I have been watching, waiting for you.’
Bendrick felt a strange warmth emanate from her body. It was a different form of comfort.
‘What is your name?’ asked Bendrick.
The witch smiled. ‘I have been called many names in the past. Irina of the Quiet Valley was one of them. Hmmm, yes, Irina seems appropriate now.’
She sighed and turned away from Bendrick.
‘Now is not the time. You have lost your powers to…it,’ she said, casting a sideways glance at Ayda, who was still fast asleep in the sand. ‘You are that intent on caring for her, a half-breed?’
‘I couldn’t leave her in Duren.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Bendrick.
The witch cleared her throat and then frowned. ‘Two disappointments in one day. That woman in the tower. You weren’t supposed to go up there.’
‘I am avenging my daughter by hunting daemons. Isn’t that what you told me to do? She was one of them.’
‘She wasn’t, Bendrick. She was valuable to me,’ said Irina. ‘She was an old friend of mine.’
‘The daemons she took care of attacked the people of Duren,’ said Bendrick.
‘You really care what happens to the people of Duren after what they did to you?’
‘Not all of them. Ayda was among them until just last night.’
‘She matters less than little, you fool,’ said Irina, crossing her arms.
Bendrick bit his lip as he stared at the unflinching face of Irina. The witch finally let out a sigh and placed her hands on her hips. ‘But the woman in the tower was also dying, Bendrick. The question you have to ask yourself now is whether you killed her out of malice or mercy.’
Bendrick didn’t answer right away, and Irina placed her hand on his chest.
‘There is still faint warmth in your chest. Maybe not all is lost.’ She smiled and pulled her hand away slowly. ‘I only have one purpose in life now, Bendrick. I have failed all other tasks.’
‘What tasks?’
‘One day, I will tell you all. When buried beneath metres of stone and when the corpses of the cursed surround us, only then will I reveal myself to you as I am.’
She walked to the edge of the small fire. It was beginning to wane.
‘This fire needs to be fed,’ said Irina, but not to the fire. She picked Ayda up and, with the tip of her staff, touched her chest. The blue serpent awoke from it and looked up at the witch.
‘I hope you aren’t too upset.’ The cyan serpentine daemon looked up at the witch as a babe would a mother. Irina placed her hand on the serpent’s head.
‘You are too selfless. It will come back to haunt you.’
‘Are you staying with us this time?’
‘No, my dear. I will see you again soon. I predict you will be more…imposing when we do.’
As Ayda’s eyes began to open, the serpent disappeared into her chest again, in search of slumber. Ayda sat up and looked at the witch.
‘Who are you?’ said Ayda, looking the witch up and down.
Irina frowned at the little half-elf and stood.
‘A cursed child. ‘Tis a pity.’
The witch walked to the edge of the creek without saying another word and seemingly melted into the clear waters of the Greenwood River. Bendrick looked on in amazement. If anyone would have told him a year ago that he would be involved with magic such as this, he would have scoffed incredulously.
‘My only curse it to look at your ugly-ass face,’ said Ayda as she spat in the direction of the witch. ‘Who was she?’
‘She saved your life. In a way.’
The waters rushed by, and Bendrick heard a growl. It came from his stomach. Emptying the contents of his stomach into the river had left him hungrier than before. He pulled the slab of venison from the pack and opened it with his fingers. Sure enough, some of the root was in the meat as well. Bendrick shook his head and put the meat under his armpit.
‘We’re not cooking it?’
Bendrick ignored the little girl.
‘I’m going to find something for us to eat that won’t poison us. Stay here with the horse.’ Bendrick hesitated for a moment. ‘That will keep you safe.’
‘What?’
‘The thing that lives inside you.’
‘Oh.’ Ayda touched her chest and nodded. ‘If anyone tries to bother me, I will fuck them up.’
Bendrick shook his head as he walked away from the fire. I need to clean up that little girl’s vocabulary. He unsheathed his greatsword and walked into the forest. Ideally, he would have preferred a good bow and a quiver full of arrows. Even a short-sword would do. Hunting with a sword as long and heavy as the bastard sword he carried would be very challenging. He would have to wait for his prey to pass close to him. The venison under his arm would be the perfect bait. He would just have to kill it before the prey consumed the bait in its entirety, or else the prey would be poisoned too.
Bendrick walked through the underbrush as quietly as he could. The canopy of trees stretched out over him, covering the sky in its entirety, it seemed. The air began to feel hot, and flies zipped in and about around the poisoned meat. Bendrick swatted away at them and came upon a small opening with an overgrown bush at the edge of the clearing. Bendrick set the meat on the ground and cut it open with his sword. If it was a big bear, the length and weight of the sword would still offer Bendrick a good chance of victory. He just had to be faster and stronger than a bear if he wanted to return to the small campfire.
Bendrick stepped into a bush and crouched, setting his bastard sword beside him. He knew he would be sitting awhile, so he sat in a way that he would provide relative comfort. The sounds of the forest rang in his ears. Bendrick placed the flat part of the sword on his shoulder and exhaled silently. Flies danced on his brow, but Bendrick remained still all the same. His eyes were set on the venison a few feet before him. He hoped that the prey would be attracted to the
smell of cut meat displayed in the open and not Bendrick, crouched in the bush. The sun moved, changing shadows in the forest.
Suddenly, Bendrick heard a snap of a twig. A huge black panther emerged from the edge of the clearing, eyeing the meat on the ground. Bendrick held his breath as he grabbed the pommel of his sword with both hands, making as little movement as possible. The panther’s muscles rippled through its fur as the beast approached the venison. It stood over the meat and sniffed at it curiously. Saliva spilled from the panther’s mouth as it studied the carefully laid bait before it. Bendrick was preparing to strike when an arrow hit the beast in the back. The panther bared its fangs, but it wasn’t about to let go of its easy meal. It picked it up in its jaws and began to run away when another arrow hit its chest from the opposite direction. Confused, the panther dropped the venison and roared in anger. A dozen more arrows were loosed at the large feline, and it fell to the ground, inches away from Bendrick, who could only watch in amazement. He didn’t even see the shooters. The forest stood quiet for a few seconds before a whistle came from the edge of the forest. A dozen men walked into the clearing, arrows notched and bows pointed at Bendrick. Their black cloaks blew in the soft wind, but their hoods covered their faces.
Bandits.
They weren’t clad in armour, Bendrick realized, but their arrows had made short work of the panther. Bendrick glanced at the dying beast and knew he didn’t have much of a chance without a shield. Perhaps he would be able to take a couple down with him before they filled him with arrows. Bendrick stood and walked out from the bush. He held his sword in a downward manner and behind him as if ready to charge. A man stepped in-between the archers and pulled his hood back, eyeing Bendrick curiously. He was neatly-shaven, and his brown hair was cut short and even styled to one side. It struck Bendrick as quaint for a bandit leader. The man snickered and pointed at his sword.
‘I’ve never seen anyone hunt with a sword like that. You’ve got bollocks, old man.’ He sneered, but the archers didn’t seem to get the humour. They stared at Bendrick like hawks on a mouse. But this mouse was carrying a greatsword.