by P J Berman
‘That’s all very well,’ he said eventually. ‘But how do I know you’re not just some mad peasant girl who claims that we should all listen to the voices in her head?’
‘Because I can get you the Amulet of Hazgorata. I know where it is. The Dowager Queen no longer has it. It’s here in Rildayorda.’
‘How do you know this?’ Jakiroc asked.
‘Because Bertakaevey told me,’ Ezrina lied. ‘I’m telling you I can return it. If I do, then will you believe me? Conduct the ritual of divinity if you must. I guarantee I will come through it.’ She didn’t mention that she’d already had the Amulet and had it taken from her and deliberately didn’t give a time scale, as she knew that if the city didn’t fall, breaking in and reclaiming her prize would be very difficult, let alone holding on to it a second time. At least she knew the location though.
‘Alright, but only if you come through the ritual as you so confidently promise to do,’ Jakiroc said, with an expression and tone that made Ezrina wonder if he was holding something back.
‘I assure you I will. After all, Bertakaevey herself predicted that I’d find you and I did it without even looking.’
‘I’m sure she did. Follow me,’ said Jakiroc, poker-faced.
He unlocked and opened the door and led her back into the main hallway, down to the far end and into an enormous room that was full of people praying. There must have been at least two hundred people there, all praying with heads bowed under the gaze of a massive gold leaf depiction of Bertakaevey that dominated the opposite wall, arms outstretched, just like the little statuette. The air was thick with incense and on a large dais at the front of the room stood many priests in their grey robes, save for the Archpriest who led the worship, singing the psalms of Bertakaevey. He was in his seventies and was easily identifiable, dressed in blue and white, with his tall gold hat and long grey beard.
Jakiroc led Ezrina through the masses and found a position at the front and slightly to the side of the dais, where he could catch the Archpriest’s eye. Once he had finished his part of the service, the Archpriest alighted the dais and approached Jakiroc.
‘Jakiroc, who is this?’ he asked, surveying Ezrina appreciatively.
‘Askorit, I would like you to meet Ezrina. She says she has a message of great importance, but we must discuss it in private, not here. In fact, she has made a rather bold claim; one that requires the test of truth in the sight of the Goddess herself.’
‘Interesting,’ Askorit said with an intrigued expression. ‘Well, you’d better follow me then.’
Ezrina followed Askorit and Jakiroc to the back of the room. She saw some stairs leading down to a wooden door. She thought Askorit was about to lead them down there, but he walked past the staircase and carried on towards another door, also wooden, just to the staircase’s left. He opened it and held it so that Ezrina and Jakiroc could enter.
Once through, Ezrina found herself in a room of dazzling brightness. It seemed the entire place was made of marble, especially the twenty-foot high statue of the Goddess, who regally dominated the room from her throne in its centre. This image of Bertakaevey was much the same as one that the Goddess had adopted in her dream, Ezrina mused silently. That was, at least, with the exception of the fact that this image showed her holding a Bennvikan style sword in her left hand, with a large round shield in the other. Just to the statue’s left was a six or seven-foot high statue of Ursartin the bear, sitting patiently at Bertakaevey’s side, just as he had done in the dream.
The three of them stood at the edge of the room while two black-cloaked Bennvikan priests knelt before the statue, worshipping it as their false Goddess Lomatteva. After a few moments, the Bennvikans got up, bowed to the statue and turned to leave without a word to their Hentani counterparts, though both gave them a sneering look, especially to Ezrina.
‘Good, now that we are alone, let me explain a few things to you,’ said Askorit pompously as he turned to face Ezrina. ‘As you might have gathered through the presence of those two, this room is the Priest’s Worship Chamber. Just like the rest of the temple, it is for Bennvikans and Hentani alike. Whatever the claim you wish to make is, you can make it here, in the sight of our Goddess.’
‘Thank you,’ Ezrina said, bowing her head politely and moving to approach the statue.
‘Ah,’ Askorit exclaimed waiving a finger in the air. ‘Before you do anything, let me remind you that honesty is paramount here. Failure to adhere to this would be sacrilege of the worst kind. If you lie to our Goddess, I will know. She may not tell me of her decision immediately, but before the sun has set twice more I shall know.’
‘And the penalty for lying to our holy Goddess is stoning, as I am sure you are aware,’ Jakiroc put in sternly.
‘Followed by an eternity spent burning in the underworld,’ added Askorit with a sinister smile.
His attempt to intimidate Ezrina was amusing. She knew the authenticity of her dream.
‘I thank you for the reminder, Archpriest,’ said Ezrina, deliberately letting her amusement show with a smile of her own. ‘But I assure you your warnings are not necessary.’
Askorit’s stunned face was a picture. Evidently that threat scared most people. He clearly wasn’t ready for the suggestion that it would fail to worry a young dancing girl like her.
She smiled to herself as she confidently strode towards the statue. She took a deep breath to compose her mind as she stopped in front of Bertakaevey. Even though this was just a statue and one that, with the presence of the weapons, had been Bennvikanised at that, she felt the Goddess’ gaze on her just as strongly as she had in the dream. Yet it didn’t fill her with fear, but courage and so her confidence held.
In the proper form, she got to her knees, bowed her head with her eyes closed and held out her hands with her palms raised.
‘Holy mother,’ she began. ‘I declare five times to you, the blessed Goddess Bertakaevey and all those present in your holy name, that I am the Daughter of Ashes and I will do your bidding only! I am the Daughter of Ashes and I will do your bidding only! I am the Daughter of Ashes and I will do your bidding only! I am the Daughter of Ashes and I will do your bidding only! I am the Daughter of Ashes and I will do your bidding only! Let me guide my people to freedom and glory, else strike me from this earth here and now. The Daughter of Ashes is risen and I am she. Holy Bertakaevey, on your own divine orders I will lead your loyalist offspring, the Hentani, from the ashes of our civilisation. I am the mother of many, mother of none, for I must be mother to our people, yet have borne no children. The Bennvikan Princess Silrith will surely die if the city falls and it must fall so that we may rise from the ashes and I, your chosen daughter, can lead the Hentani to freedom. In your divine presence, I make this pledge and give myself to you.’
Silence.
After a moment, Ezrina opened her eyes. She’d done it. She had declared to the one true Goddess that she accepted her divine mission and with it, given herself hope that she would one day have the means to find Jezna.
She composed herself a second time, then got to her feet and turned to face Jakiroc and Askorit.
Jakiroc’s face was unreadable, but Askorit’s was one of shock and almost offence. He must have realised he was gaping though, as he closed his mouth and looked at the floor for a moment while Ezrina walked back over to them.
‘Well that is quite a claim you have made,’ Askorit blustered. ‘But if it is true, then I will be damned if I am the one to denounce it.’
Ezrina sighed and gave him a hard look, straight in the eye. She knew that he was not using the phrase figuratively.
‘Yet, I believe I do hear Bertakaevey’s voice,’ Askorit went on, his tone turning smug as if a thought had just come to him. ‘She commands that a further test be conducted. Jakiroc tells me you claim you can find the Amulet of Hazgorata. Both the Daughter of Ashes and the Amulet are sacred. We lack the latter, but surely it can be found by the former. What would be holier than that?’
; He shrugged sarcastically, while Jakiroc kept his face neutral. If only they knew that only days ago Ezrina had been in possession of the Amulet? Ezrina gave another very deliberate smile, causing Askorit’s haughty expression to crease into one of frustration. He would believe. It was only a matter of time.
‘As you wish. I will personally recover the Amulet,’ said Ezrina confidently. ‘How can I fail? After all, Bertakaevey is on our side.’
Chapter 21
That evening, standing in the walled courtyard, Silrith looked on at the patched-up gates. Her soldiers had worked through the night trying to strengthen it with any wood and steel they could find, but she knew that they were just delaying the inevitable. Jostan’s army had not made an attack that day, apparently preferring to rest, but it surely wouldn’t be long before hostilities were resumed.
‘That gate won’t withstand another frontal attack for long,’ she said to Gasbron.
‘Well, at least it makes our next move simple. A gamble isn’t a gamble if you have no choice,’ he replied.
That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one that history will blame for so many deaths if this goes wrong, Silrith thought.
‘Yes,’ she said, affecting a positive tone. ‘Now that we no longer have the chance to outlast them in a siege, our only option left is to attack.’ They had briefly considered retreating to the city itself, but had come to the conclusion that they could never win back the citadel from there, fighting uphill as they would be and trying to orchestrate attacks from the city streets. In any case, it would be exactly what Jostan expected her to do and she didn’t plan on doing that.
‘In the meantime, what’s the butcher’s bill?’ she asked.
A smile creased across Gasbron’s dark features and it looked to Silrith like he appreciated her attempt to start using soldierly jargon.
‘Not as bad as we might have anticipated at this point. Two hundred and fifty-seven dead at the last count over both attacks and four hundred and thirty-one injured, though some can still hold a weapon if it comes to it. Meanwhile, they’ve surely lost hundreds more. But that means nothing if they break through those gates again.’
Silrith nodded.
‘Yes, and they won’t fall for the same trick twice. They’ll be prepared to be outflanked this time.’
‘A frontal attack will be harder to defend now too,’ sighed Gasbron.
‘You think Jostan will send in his Divisios first?’
‘Yes. He’s hardly used them so far. I believe that he may be saving them for the right moment,’ Gasbron said.
‘I share your concern. If I were him, that’s what I would do,’ Silrith replied, looking up at the sky. ‘It’s getting dark. It’s not likely that Jostan will be able to assemble another attack before nightfall, which hopefully gives us until tomorrow to upset his plans. How many cavalry do we have?’
‘Nearly three thousand, all told. Divisio One Bastalf is still nearly at full strength, so that’s approaching five hundred to start, then there are Prince Shappa’s knights, so that’s another two hundred, then we have a thousand mounted Hentani Warriors and around a thousand of our spear militia were assessed as being competent enough to use a weapon on horseback,’ Gasbron said. This had been part of the rigorous testing and training prior to the enemy’s arrival.
‘Do we have enough horses?’
Gasbron shook his head.
‘No, not proper cavalry horses anyway. But fortunately, most of the militia are farmers and the like who own their own animals. They’re big beasts that are more used to pulling ploughs but they’ll have to do. We can put them at the back. Those who don’t have one at all are few enough for Lord Yathrud’s stables to supply them all. But the Hentani warriors have some decent mounts at least. ’
‘Good. I shall require you and your Divisiomen to be my personal bodyguard. Find Prince Shappa and all other relevant officers and order them to congregate at the East Gate one hour from now. I shall inform Lord Yathrud,’ Silrith said, turning to leave.
‘Yes, my Queen. But first, there is one more thing that you should know.’
‘What’s that?’ Silrith asked, stopping and turning back to him.
‘It’s your cousin, Bezekarl. He’s still missing. I saw him come down from the wall to join the fight down here when we outflanked them, but I didn’t see him after that.’
Silrith’s heart sank and she was silent for a moment.
‘Has anything of his been found?’
‘No. No shield, no sword, no armour, nothing, not even a body. But that could be meaningless. It is possible that he’s simply been taken prisoner, but I wouldn’t want to give you false hope.’
Silrith let her eyes drop to the floor, biting her lip to hold back any hint of feeling as the fires of rage burned inside her at the thought of another one of her kin being taken by Jostan. Eventually, she thought it best simply to nod in acknowledgement.
‘Thank you Gasbron,’ she added. Quickly she turned and walked away before she made a public slip of emotion. She knew she hadn’t fooled Gasbron though. Everyone else maybe, but not him. She didn’t know what it was, but something in the way that he’d looked at her told her that for that moment, he’d seen right into her soul. She was surprised to be comforted by the idea, but then she thought of Bezekarl again and felt the anger return.
She immediately swatted it away. Clarity of mind would be crucial tonight, if she was to stand any chance of avenging Bezekarl, or if he was alive, saving him.
The dripping of water on the damp walls. The scuffling of rats as they scampered by in the darkness. The moaning of fellow prisoners in other cells. With no chance of escape, down in the depths of Rildayorda’s dungeons, after a day or so, or whatever it had been, Jithrae already knew he would never get used to these horrific surroundings and that was even before you considered the stench.
Yet there was still one noise that filled him with a colder dread than any other every time he heard it; the turning of the latch and the opening of the door at the far end of the dungeon. Every time it happened, he’d jump to the front of the cell and peer through the bars to see who was coming. Once it had turned out to be the man who brought around the bowls of food, or rather, he brought them in and flung them in the vague direction of the cells. Twice though, it had been the guards coming to carry some groaning half-starved prisoner to their death and both times this had looked like a mercy. He was convinced that it would be his turn soon. He had claimed to have knowledge of Jostan’s plans, just to keep himself alive, but he had not thought of anything convincing in time. They had seen through his lies and when he had said he knew nothing of the alleged plot involving the opening of the portcullis in the last battle, they had grown frustrated and locked him away.
How could he possibly save Vaezona from here? He was just brooding on this terrible thought, thinking he’d feel a bit less scared next time the door opened, when exactly that happened and the wave of fright returned as strongly as ever, but this time with even more reason. As the latch was opened, he could hear voices shouting on the other side, as if there was some kind of struggle going on. The door was at the top of a few stone steps and when it eventually opened, Jithrae saw two guards manhandling a young woman at the top.
The prisoner was trying still trying to escape, even though her wrists and ankles were in chains, but her resistance lessened when one of them gave her a hard punch in the stomach.
‘That should teach her a lesson,’ said one guard as they dragged the groaning prisoner down the steps.
‘How do you like your new room?’ jeered the other as he opened the door of the neighbouring cell to Jithrae’s and his friend threw the girl in. She was slender, with dark hair and for a wonderful moment Jithrae thought it might be Vaezona, but then she looked over at him and he saw only a stranger. Some of the prisoners in other cells started calling, begging for the guards to bring them their meal.
‘Sit down. Shut up,’ came the gruff answer.
One of the me
n slammed the girl’s cell door closed and turned the lock. Jithrae’s fear rose as the two guards then walked over to his own cell’s door and one unlocked it. They opened the door and stepped in. Surely that could only mean one thing.
‘You. You’re coming with us.’
After gaining some level of backing from Jakiroc and the select group of other priests she had subsequently been introduced to, Ezrina knew what she had to do next - recover the Amulet of Hazgorata, and fast. Their support looked like it could waver easily. The tribal priests had been nervous of arousing the suspicions of their Bennvikan counterparts.
Fortunately, when Gasbron had taken it from her she had overheard him tell a guard where to take the Amulet, so she knew where it would be. Additionally, some equally valuable intelligence had recently been gained and this was outlined to her by Jakiroc in a secret meeting with the priests and priestesses in a room beneath the temple.
‘Every day,’ he had said, speaking directly to Ezrina. ‘Separately, a priest or priestess each from both Bennvikan and Hentani denominations enters the city prison to bless the prayers of the prisoners. Failure to allow this risks offending the Gods, but it also serves as an effective way of observing those in jail in the hope that they testify against others. People will say anything to a servant of the divine. The Bennvikans, of course, think that this favours them, as they demand that any clergyman who goes in must then speak with the guard Captain, but of course, when they come back here, they speak to us as well. This was when I learned something very interesting.’
Ezrina and the others listened while he explained what he had discovered.
‘If you can provide me with a priestess’ dress and veil,’ Ezrina had replied when Jakiroc had finished speaking. ‘I’ll go inside, bless the prisoners’ prayers, then meet with the officer in his quarters. Maybe that way I can find a way of taking back the Amulet.’
Most had been happy with this suggestion, except for one who had protested that she was not a real priestess and for her to bless the prayers would be blasphemy. That was until Jakiroc had pointed out that if she was successful, then this would prove that Ezrina was chosen by Bertakaevey and what could be more holy than that?