by J. M. Topp
You said no death. The memory shot through Bendrick’s mind. His eyes widened. Bendrick never thought he would hear that voice again. You promised me.
The dead man’s neck still curved unnaturally to the side. His eyes were condemning.
You killed those men.
‘It was a battle. What was I supposed to do?’
Die. The voice echoed and faded away into the stones. Bendrick breathed heavily, and his heart pounded in his chest. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
I didn’t bury those memories deep enough.
Then, Bendrick remembered that the queen had escaped from these very cells. He wondered if she had been kept in the cell they were currently in. Bendrick ran his hands along the cold stone. There was a small corner of the wall that was slightly discoloured. It looked as if it had been placed long after the cell had been built. Bendrick knelt to the corner, putting pressure on the stone until he was pushing against it with all his might. There was no loose stone. Bendrick slammed his hand against the stone, but it didn’t budge. There had to be a way. He glanced to see Ayland staring at him intently.
‘Your grace?’
King Ayland simply stared without response. Drool dripped from his open mouth. Bendrick rose from the corner of the cell and wiped the saliva off with the corner of his shirt.
‘We have to find a way out of this place, Ayl.’
Bendrick realized that he hadn’t used that nickname in years. It almost felt weird in his mouth to say that name. He looked into his face, but Ayland only mumbled something with a blank stare.
TWICE A DAY, the guard would bring a stale loaf of bread and broth to them. Bendrick ate his share, but could not get the king to take a bite. Ever since that first night, he had stopped eating and talking altogether. The guard paused once whilst bringing them their meal and asked what was wrong with him.
‘He won’t eat. I don’t know if he gets any sleep. Where you see him now is where he remains day and night. We need to get him out of here. He needs to see a healer,’ Bendrick pleaded. Yet the guard only nodded and walked away without a word. Bendrick’s wound had begun to heal without any infection. Relief embraced him as the doubts of losing his leg vanished. Bendrick tore out pieces of his sackcloth pants to use as bandages and replaced the ones on his leg as often as he could. He had torn up most of them until they almost appeared like undergarments. He was tearing the last of them when, one night, the guard came and unlocked the door.
Bendrick stood abruptly, causing a slight pain to his abdomen. The guard jingled the keys and opened the creaking iron door.
‘Are you here for him?’ Bendrick asked, wondering if Ayland would be able to even stand.
‘No, the queen wants to see you,’ the guard replied curtly, with a gesture to walk to the door. Bendrick let out a sigh of relief but cut it short. The queen might want to have him executed along with Ayland. Why was she summoning Bendrick now, after putting him in a cell?
Bendrick emerged from the dark cells to the frigid air of the Eldervale winter. The fires had died down, but what remained was the charred ash and grime of a sacked city. As he walked through the streets, he saw that piles of bodies lay in various places and had been set on fire. Only smoking bones remained. Decaying corpses were strung from the parapets of the taller buildings. Almost every major building had them. Bendrick didn’t recognize the bodies, due to their decay, but he realized that most of them had been nobles. Golden necklaces hung on their twisted necks. He recognized the soiled, gray robes of Scribe Kedwin as his body hung from the rope.
Queen Gwendylyyn’s vengeance was complete. Anyone who had ever uttered the words ‘Harlot Queen’ had been strung up with the rest. The guard prodded Bendrick up the White Stairs that led to the palace where the queen was sure to be residing; but to call those steps white almost made Bendrick puke with disgust. The steps were covered in blood stains. The last stand must have been held here. It meant that the city guard had abandoned the people’s defense and retreated to protect the nobles. It was a bitter sight. Bendrick bowed his head and weakly marched up the steps. It was unusual to see men clad in blue and white standing outside of the palace. Bendrick would never have guessed that this would happen. He turned to look for the Athenaeum, but couldn’t spot the building due to the misty frost. Bendrick cursed under his breath.There had been thousands of priceless artifacts and parchments in that building. To have those lost would be a great casualty in this war. Of course, it was no more a great casualty than the thousands that had died in the sacking of the city.
An aide Bendrick didn’t recognize approached them. She wore a tight cloth cap that covered most of her face. The guard frowned as she bowed low.
‘He must be cleaned. The queen will want to see him as soon as he is able. Do it now,’ the guard said to the aide and turned back to his post at the prisons. The aide bowed again quickly and turned to Bendrick.
‘My lord Greystonne, follow me.’
Bendrick followed her up the steps and into the royal keep. They passed empty chamber after chamber. Bendrick wasn’t too familiar with the keep, since he rarely visited the palace. His place was the Athenaeum. He sighed in sadness as the aide rounded a corner into a rather large chamber.
Once there, she immediately proceeded to cut off his remaining blood-stained sackcloth garments. Unfazed by Bendrick’s nudity, she pointed to a small washtub without a word. Bendrick stared at the tub for a moment and then walked over to it. He sat in the warm waters and let the heat soak into him. Bendrick didn’t know how long he had been in that cell, but the waters felt wondrous.
‘How many days has it been since the queen’s conquest?’ Bendrick asked the aide, who was setting clothes on a chair for him.
‘Three weeks, my lord,’ she said without looking at him.
Three weeks?
It startled Bendrick how fast time had gotten away from him. There was no way to tell from the lack of moon or sunlight in that cell. He realized that he must have smelt raw from that time wallowing in mud and straw. Ayland was still down there. If he didn’t receive medical attention soon, he would lose more than just his leg. Bendrick stared grimly at the steam rising from the bath waters.
BENDRICK, NOW DRESSED in black doublet and matching pants, entered the Grand Hall. He had been given an elabourate black cane to help support his leg. He wore a dark-blue cloak, which trailed behind him as he walked on bright-blue royal Aivaterran carpets. Atop the Red Throne sat Queen Gwendylyyn LaFoyelle, now the most powerful ruler in the known world. Regent of Eldervale and the Khahadran, she held the greatest nations in her grasp. The power was unquestionably hers, and she knew it. Two knight-captains stood by her side, holding their helms in one hand and a halberd in the other. One of them he knew. Elymiah Farnesse smiled as Bendrick approached and knelt before the queen.
‘Your Grace.’ Bendrick spoke as strongly as he could, yet it only came out in a raspy and tortured voice.
‘You have been on your knees all your life, Bendrick Greystonne. Rise and come closer.’ Gwendylyyn wore a blue and white dress with golden frillings and white flowers sewn into the beautiful-stitched designs of the fabric. Her hair was tied elabourately above her head in the shape of a cone with white daffodils woven into it. She held her scepter out to him in signal of acceptance. A man stepped from behind the throne who made Bendrick’s heart stop in his chest. A man with a bronze circlet and bald head walked up to him with arms outstretched.
William Bhenhart embraced him.
‘Welcome to the land of the living, my friend. We have fine things in store for you,’ William whispered quietly in his ear. Shock embraced Bendrick harder than William did.
‘The look on your face betrays you, Bendrick.’ Gwendylyyn smiled. ‘William has been one of two friends I ever held at court here. He was the one who helped me escape that dreadful night.’
‘William…the attack…you let them into the city?’ Bendrick’s voice rasped as he tried to make sense of the situation. A sharp pain bega
n to develop in his chest.
‘I did, Ben. You saw as well as I the monster Ayland had become. It was only a matter of time until he would lose Eldervale. I made sure the kingdom would rest in the right hands.’ William stepped to his side so as not to block the queen’s view. He smiled as if nothing had ever happened. Bendrick’s eyes widened as he realized what the queen had been telling him during his stay in Aivaterra.
‘He is the father,’ Bendrick whispered to himself.
Queen Gwendylyyn nodded as William walked to the queen’s throne and stood beside her.
‘But the people! You routed and murdered them in their homes!’ Bendrick shouted accusingly. It was almost too much for Bendrick to contain. He clutched at his chest and fell to the floor on all fours. Bendrick began to cough uncontrollably. Blood spattered onto the carpet. The queen snapped her fingers, and two aides jumped to his help, but Bendrick waved them away. Taking a deep breath and regaining his composure, he stood up, leaning heavily on his cane.
‘Why have you summoned me?’ asked Bendrick.
‘We need your help, Ben,’ said William, but Bendrick ignored him. Bendrick stared at Queen Gwendylyyn.
‘I assume that now I may address you as My Queen?’ Bendrick asked with a slight hint of sarcasm. Gwendylyyn nodded cautiously as Bendrick approached the throne. ‘I know how much you hated this place. The people here never loved you and have called you shameful things. You have strung them up now. Burned and hunted them down. What use could I, a retired war veteran, have to you now?’
‘William has told me good things about what you have done in my absence. You were the one to suggest the envoy to my city. It was the love you have for your people that drove you to that mission, fruitless thought it was. You are right. The people of Weserith had no love for me and even less now. It is for that reason that, under William, you will help rebuild Weserith to be a great and noble city like never before. You are noble and honest, wise in counsel, and not to forget, you saved my most valuable knight-captain, Elymiah Farnesse.’ Gwendylyyn motioned to her captain, who bowed at the queen and then faced Bendrick.
‘You may not remember, Bendrick, but during the battle, I faced a dozen Weserith men. They had me surrounded.’ Elymiah walked down past the throne and stood before Bendrick. Her eyes were warm as she spoke. ‘I looked for my weapon, and it was gone, but you were on the ground holding a spear. My horse bucked me off its back, and I fell beside you. You shouted and threw a spear to me. I live today because of your valiant efforts, regardless of being enemies, to not see me die.’ She paused for a moment and studied Bendrick. ‘What the Queen has said of you is more than true. You are noble and honest; you were merciful to a knight in need such as me. I am forever thankful.’ Elymiah saluted and resumed her place beside Queen Gwendylyyn. Bendrick didn’t know what to say to her. Instead, he looked back at the queen.
‘What of my daughter, Sieglinde? Was she among the Weserithians you captured?’ asked Bendrick, his heart skipping a beat. If he had lost Sieglinde, he would never forgive himself. Regret plagued his memory. The look on Sieglinde’s face as she had turned to him with split lip burned within him.
‘That pretty little doll. What was she doing anywhere near a battlefield, Bendrick?’ Gwendylyyn frowned at him. ‘The truth is, I have no idea. I have received no reports on her whereabouts, but I will put a notice out on her. Perhaps she was with the refugees,’ said the queen crisply, motioning to Captain Farnesse, who bowed and exited the Grand Hall. ‘I am sorry that you had to spend nights in a cell with…him. I didn’t learn you were there until the guard told me that the king wouldn’t eat or sleep. Is this true?’
‘He won’t eat. I do not know if he sleeps or not. He sits in a dark corner of his cell. He will not speak to anyone. His leg has been cut off, and I fear an infection has set in. He needs medical attention,’ Bendrick said, realizing full well that the queen didn’t care for his well-being. She was saving him for something.
‘Before you go, Korhas, the Leadcloak was last spotted leaving the Lyedran Valley, fleeing to the north. My guards have had no luck finding him. If he tries to reach out to you, let any guard know. We will handle it.’
Bendrick looked at Gwendylyyn and merely stared at her.
‘It is enough for today, Bendrick. William will escort you to your new quarters.’
‘New quarters?’ asked Bendrick, looking up at the queen in hesitation.
‘The Athenaeum was destroyed upon my arrival,’ she said, turning to her captains. ‘You may go.’
So it was true; the greatest historical and academic building in Eldervale had been lost. Bendrick hung his head in sadness. Though Gwendylyyn had shown him mercy, everything had been stripped away from him as well. William walked with him in silence. His new quarters were on the second floor of the royal keep building. William opened the door to his bedchambers. The warmth of the room immediately enveloped Bendrick. It was a respite he welcomed.
‘These will be your quarters for now,’ William said curtly. ‘I hope they will suffice.’
‘William,’ returned Bendrick, trying to find a grasp on the whole situation, ‘Ayland is not doing well. He must receive medical attention now.’
‘He is not our king anymore Ben,’ said William, closing the door behind him. ‘His sickness is a mental one, something that we cannot change. Yet there are more pressing matters than simply adapting Weserith to this new rule.’
‘More pressing? The king is ill and on the verge of death. You’ve known him for years. Does none of that make a damn difference to you? Have you forgotten it all?’ Bendrick said, raising his voice in frustration.
How has William become so daft?
‘There are rumours of an army that landed at the Blade Fortress far to the south,’ William responded, gravely.
‘An army? Has Alder Isle joined the war?’ asked Bendrick.
He noticed William’s hands begin to tremble. ‘The day the skies are blood red is the beginning of the second return of Fog. I don’t know if you noticed, but the day we destroyed Weserith, the skies ran red as if the heavens themselves were bleeding.’
William was quoting an obscure prophecy made by an unknown bishop. It seemed that William believed it without question.
‘Didn’t you come to my sparring room and make fun of the fact that I read Enmity of a Deity, and now you are spouting something more ridiculous and fanciful?’ said Bendrick, forcing himself not to shout at him.
‘It’s not ridiculous, Bendrick. A rider came under cover of night with a message. I have tried to convince the queen, but she does not believe me. It’s almost as if the legends and myths are beginning to take hold.’ William began to pace around the room. ‘The only one who can stop this army is the queen.’
‘Are you certain, William? What if it isn’t true?’ asked Bendrick, taking a seat next to the hearth fire. His muscles ached as he sat.
‘I hope it’s not, yet reports are conclusive. The men who informed me, I could never question. Regardless, if it is true, we must prepare for a different kind of battle. That is where I really need your help. The queen will never agree to this, as she is fully confident in this god of hers. The Weserithian Army remnants must be integrated into the Aivaterran military. We cannot face the Fog divided as we are.’
‘Are you fucking kidding me? We are as divided as we can be. You completely destroyed Weserith!’
‘Not completely. There is still time,’ said William, furrowing his brow at Bendrick. ‘I want you to know that I did what I did for the future of Weserith.’
Bendrick chuckled to himself. ‘Maybe one day you will see the choices you’ve made and realize how stupid you sound. Don’t justify your betrayal to me. It’s insulting.’
‘I hope one day you will see that what I am saying is true, old friend,’ said William. Bendrick stared into the fire. The wisps clawed at the air as the embers wafted towards him. The smell of burning wood brought memories back to Bendrick. Sieglinde’s face formed through the flame
s, staring accusingly at Bendrick.
‘What trick are you playing at this time, William?’
William looked like he had just been shot with an arrow.
‘No games this time, Bendrick. There are no games when the dark comes into question. If the legends and myths hold truth, it’s something we must prepare for.’
Bendrick laughed as he reached for the wine flask on a table next to the hearth.
‘I want my daughter, William. I don’t care about any manipulations or tricks that you may have.’
‘Bendrick, I know you think me a traitor, but I did it for the good of humanity—not just Aivaterra.’
‘You weren’t there, were you?’ Bendrick took a long swig of wine and coughed a little as it burned down his throat. He wiped his lips and sneered at William. ‘You didn’t see the flood. You didn’t see men swallowed up by mud.’
A shadow formed before Bendrick in the shape of the rider being swallowed up by the darkness. Bendrick trembled and, with a smile, took another drag from the flask.
‘I need your help, Bendrick.’
‘Fuck you.’
William stared at him. Bendrick didn’t care anymore. His world was falling apart and he was sick of William’s schemes.
‘You betrayed your king. Regardless of what he may have done, he still was our friend.’
‘It was regicide; that much is true, but if, in order to save the nation, pieces of the kingdom have to be lost, then so be it. I know you are loyal, but be reasonable.’
‘I am being reasonable. I won’t turn my back on the king while he yet lives.’
‘Do not hold your breath, old friend.’ William spoke through clenched teeth and anger permeated his eyes, ‘He will not live for much longer.’
He exited the room without another word, slamming the door behind him.
Bendrick stood and walked to his bed, finishing the drink in his hand and tossing the cup to his side. The mattress looked like the most comfortable bed in the kingdom. Without taking off his newly-pressed clothes, he simply lay on it. Immediately, he was lost in dreams. Fatigue had beaten him down, but the feeling was wondrous. For a moment, all his troubles were forgotten. Even the screams haunting him faded.