Restoring Dermot

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Restoring Dermot Page 22

by Andrea Boyd


  I ordered Brasil to go fetch the healer and then took his place at the edge of Father’s bed. General Cormac’s voice boomed out commands. Orders were given to have Brasil’s mattress along with Carlos’ corpse to be removed. The order was sent out for the servants to return to their duties. Every room in this chamber was to be scoured, every evidence of the invaders’ occupancy was to be removed. It barely registered with me that the general gave orders for Galik’s body to be disposed of as well.

  All the while, I sat bathing Father’s face with a warm damp cloth. His blue eyes stared into mine as I wiped each tear that traced over his cheeks. “Hang on, Father. The healer will be here soon. Shh. Everything is well now, and you will get better.”

  “I am so sorry.” His voice shook and the tears came more rapidly.

  “Shh, Father. You did not do this. You had no way of knowing this would happen. It is over now. No worries.”

  His lips trembled, and my heart broke. “I have done you wrong. I need to make amends. I need forgiveness.”

  I shook my head. To be able to sit down with him and talk about the events of the last couple of years would have been wonderful, but this felt like a deathbed confession. I could not accept the idea that the events from the last few days would cause his passing. “You need to rest. We can speak of this later. Father, please, I need you to get well.”

  He blew out a breath and looked away. There was steely resolve when his gaze met mine once again. “Go find Vicar Reeves. Bring him back to the castle.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand as I stared at him. My fears were confirmed. He was dying. I did not want to lose him. Not like this. Especially not like this.

  “Your Highness, the healer is here.”

  I could hear the relief in Brasil’s breathless voice, but I could not share in it. Not when it felt as if my father was giving up all hope. If he thought he was dying, then maybe he was.

  Father was still staring at me. “Go.”

  That one-word command finally propelled me out the door. The only time I could remember the vicar being allowed on this property was as Mother lay dying. It had been her last request and Father had obliged. I wondered if he wanted to deny her request as much as I wanted to deny this one. Not because of the fact that the vicar had been banned from the grounds, but because granting this wish was the same thing as giving up. As if allowing his presence was the same as giving permission for that loved one to die.

  I ran all the way to the parsonage. No matter how much I banged on the door, no one opened. I backtracked to the chapel. Vicar Reeves stood from the altar as I burst through the door. He met me halfway. “What is it? What has happened?”

  “Father is asking for you.” It was a wonder I could push any words out as I gasped for breath.

  Without hesitation, he took my arm and led me back toward the castle. I explained everything that happened as we made our way. I wanted to ask him to go faster, but I would not have been able to keep up if he had.

  “I knew something was going on. The Lord has been pressing it upon me for days to pray for this kingdom.”

  I did not have time to ponder his strange words. I had heard others, including Rian, speaking of God in this manner. If He did speak to others in this way, why had He never spoken to me?

  Father’s room was quiet when we entered his chambers. Damini was the only other person present. She sat quietly in a chair next to his bed. Father appeared to be asleep but he opened his eyes as we drew closer.

  “Where is the healer? Where is Brasil?” I turned to look at Damini, but it was Father who answered.

  “Healer Irving will return in the morning, and I sent Brazil to your mother’s chamber for a much needed rest.” He looked past me to Damini. “Leave us.”

  I wanted to protest. Why was the healer not here now? Should he not be doing everything within his power to try and save Father’s life? Was the king not due this effort? Earlier, I could have voiced my concerns, but not now. The man staring back at me was not the same broken man. This was the king. The authoritarian I had always known. He still may die, but he did not seem as powerless as before. Did he still require the vicar’s presence?

  “Liam.” It was strange hearing the vicar’s name on my father’s lips. He said it like he was addressing an old friend.

  “King Farris, what can I do for you?”

  I turned to leave as the vicar sat down in the chair that had been vacated by Damini. As curious as I was as to what Father had to say, I knew my presence would no longer be welcome.

  “Stay.” That one command stopped me. Father was looking right at me when I turned back. “I want you to hear this.”

  He looked back at the vicar. “I have done wrong by my kingdom, by my family, and more importantly, by God. It is time for confessing and making things right.”

  I wrapped my arm around the post at the foot of Father’s bed for support.

  Vicar Reeves leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I am listening, but more importantly, God is. He is the only one who can give true forgiveness. But you already know this.”

  An involuntary gasp left my lips. I felt as if I had been set down in a different dominion. Mother had taken me to church while, as far as I knew, Father had never given God or His house a thought. Yet, the vicar seemed to suggest otherwise.

  Father turned his blue eyes toward me. “You probably do not remember, but I attended church with you and your mother when you were very young. Babree and I both came to know Christ as our Savior years before you were born. We prayed so hard for you to come along. After God blessed us with you, our very heart’s desire, I . . . I slipped away.” He looked down at the bedspread which did nothing to hide the glassy look of his tear-filled eyes.

  My own tears spilled over and coursed down my cheeks. Not because of his words, but because of his show of emotion. I could not remember ever seeing my father cry before this day.

  Vicar Reeves leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, but he did not say anything. I did not truly understand everything that was going on. It was astounding to hear father’s confession.

  Father slowly turned his head to face the vicar once more. “I have already asked God for His forgiveness. It is too late to make things right with Babree. I know her heart was broken by the things I did. I can only hope my daughter can forgive me in time. As for the kingdom, I am relinquishing my right to rule over to Adrika. I will guide her until her husband returns. I feel he is more than competent to take my place.”

  There was no doubt to Father’s meaning this time, and in this, I took some comfort. If he went through with abdicating his right to rule, I would be ruling in name only. For once, I was glad he would be dictating my every move, but would Rian? How would he feel about being ruler in name only?

  Then my thoughts turned to the reality of Father’s condition. In his weakened state, he may be gone before Rian’s return. If that happened, I would truly be on my own. I was not ready to rule. “Father, no. You cannot do this.”

  “It will be all right, Adrika. We will speak of this later.” His voice sounded weak and breathless. This talk with the vicar was already taxing his strength. He should be resting.

  He cleared his throat before continuing. “Rest assured, Liam, I will make restitution to the kingdom, beginning with the church. I hope you can forgive me for banning you from the grounds of the castle. You are now free to come and go as you please.”

  The vicar leaned forward and gently patted Father’s shoulder. “All is forgiven, my friend. If there is nothing more you need to say, I would like to pray and then leave you to your rest.”

  Father only bowed his head and closed his eyes.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, I know you must be rejoicing with us that another prodigal has returned. We thank you for sending your Son to die for us to cover our sins so that we may spend eternity in paradise instead of the hell we deserve. I pray King Farris will continually seek your guidance after this crisis is over. Please he
lp him make decisions for this kingdom that are pleasing to you.

  “And Lord, be with Princess Adrika. Bring her to a knowledge of your saving grace. Let her be a help to her father and to the people of her kingdom. Be with Prince Rian as he fights this war on our behalf. Keep him safe and bring him home to his wife. I know she loves him and must miss him so. Calm her fears, Lord. We ask all of this in Jesus’ holy name. Amen.”

  The vicar’s prayer had chills coursing down my body. I hugged my arms across my chest and rubbed them. I had been listening to the man pray all my life, and there were always portions that made no sense to me. But there was no mistaking the parts about Rian. There was a chance he would never come back to me. There had been a request for God to calm my fears in that prayer, and losing Rian was my greatest one. I was relieved when the vicar finally left.

  Renny came in with a bowl of soup just after. “Princess Adrika, your food is being kept warm in the kitchen. I did not know if you wanted it brought to you or if you planned to eat there.”

  “I will eat after I feed Father.”

  “I would be happy to feed the king. You go ahead and eat.”

  I took the bowl from her hands. “I will feed Father. Thank you.”

  “As you wish.” She curtsied and then left.

  Setting the bowl down, I leaned Father forward and adjusted his pillows so he could sit upright. I could feel the bones protruding from his back. I readjusted his blankets. Even before this injury, he had always been cold-natured. Sitting on the side of the bed, I took up the bowl of chicken and wild rice stew in a thickened broth.

  “I am perfectly capable of feeding myself—that is, if I were properly dressed and could sit at the table.” Yet, he took the bite I offered without further protest.

  “What did the healer have to say? I thought he would still be here.” Healer Irving used to live in the castle, but when Father cut his wages, he moved into town where he could take on more patients.

  “Irving said it was nothing to worry about. It is but a bump to the head, made worse by my age and condition before the fall. If I die, it will be old age that takes me, not this.” He paused, before continuing. “You have changed.”

  I looked up at his sudden deviation of subject matter. What could I say to this? “So have you.”

  “I am only reverting back to the man I once was, as God has convicted me to do so. I think we can contribute your change to your husband. Being a Barnali has made you bolder, and I believe that is a good thing.”

  I was reminded of my final words to my uncle. Since leaving Aisling, I had been comparing myself to the strong women in Rian’s family and thinking myself as less than them, but I felt some pride now at my father’s words. When faced with my present and future enslavement, I had taken action.

  “Did you understand what I meant about God—about my coming to know Christ as my personal Savior?”

  His mind seemed to flit from one thought to a completely unrelated one in the blink of an eye. It was somewhat hard to keep up. “Yes. It means you used to go to church and now I suppose you intend to return.” Although, how he would do that in his current condition was beyond me.

  “No.” The word came out strong. It reminded me of my place and what was expected of me. The pressure of fulfilling Father’s demands as well as Rian’s opposing expectations crowded in once again.

  “Your mother was afraid this is what you thought. If I had been the man she wanted me to be, the man I should have been . . .” He took in a deep breath and released it with force. “Going to church does not make you a child of God. That act alone will not get you through the gates of Heaven.”

  Then what would? Fear prevented me from asking the question aloud.

  He sighed. “Let me think. How should I explain this?”

  Was I so simple-minded as to lack understanding? Then again, I had gone to church my entire life and had evidently missed the point as far as he was concerned. Aside from that one transgression involving Brett, had I not been a good person? Was that one incident so great that God could not forgive me? It was possible since Father had been unable to do so.

  “Your mother was the first to know Christ. She had never been allowed to attend church before, but I had always gone, so once we were married, we both went. Our first Easter together, I was sick and spent two weeks in bed. She went to services for the first time without me. The vicar spoke of Christ’s death. I had heard the story before, as I am sure you have.”

  I nodded. It was a sad story that I avoided listening to each year. I did not understand why Jesus’ death had been necessary, nor why the story needed to be remembered so often. Some things were better off left in the past.

  “It was your mother’s first time hearing it. She was overwhelmed with the idea that Christ had sacrificed Himself for her, to cover her sins so that she would not have to spend an eternity in hell. Hearing her tell it with such passion, in a way that was personal to her, well, it opened my eyes to my own need. I asked for God’s forgiveness right there in the room that you now share with your husband. I asked Him to take me as His own, and He did. Do you not see? Will you not repent?”

  I certainly had sin in my life, and there was no doubt about Father’s transgressions, but Mother had been as good as one could be. Why would she need to ask for forgiveness? I did not feel comfortable talking this over with my father. I wished Mother were here instead, or even Rian.

  Then again, if what Father believed was true, I had lied to my husband. He had asked before we were married if I was a Christian. I would hate for him to know the truth. Was it the truth? This whole conversation had left me feeling uneasy and confused.

  I fed Father the last bite of his soup. “You have given me much to think about. I will find someone to sit with you while I eat my meal. There is a guard right outside your door. He will hear if you call out.”

  A deep sigh was his only response.

  Thirty-one

  Rian

  After getting the water situation under control, I divided out my best warriors to travel with me, and left Garrett in charge of the rest. I led my troops on foot around our rocky outcropping until we were positioned next to the path that separated us from the backside of the enemy’s camp. It had taken us almost a whole day just to make it there. I instructed everyone to rest as we waited quietly until the appointed time.

  Just after the evening sun tipped over the boulders right behind the Cordelians, some of Garrett’s troop came out into the open and shot arrows at the enemy. They were far enough away that there was not much chance any would meet a mark. It was only a distraction so my troops could cross the open space across the path and hopefully, not be seen.

  Everyone held their weapons in white-knuckled fists as we eased over the rocks, trying not to make any noise. I was thankful for the lack of vegetation. The sound of our boots crunching stems and dry leaves would have surely given us away. It took half of the night for us to spread out over the rocks behind the Cordelians. I had instructed everyone to sleep if they could but knew most were probably like me with too much adrenaline pumping through their veins to allow for it.

  It took more time than I had anticipated to get everything in place, but now we only awaited the rising of the sun and my signal to begin. I studied our enemies as the sky began to lighten. More than the usual night guards were moving through the camp below me. No doubt the distraction of last night had caused them alarm. They had to know we were up to something, but did they know we were waiting to ambush them from behind? Several of the Cordelians were turned my way, studying the outcropping of rocks. It stood to reason that a group as large as mine had made some noise as we moved into position.

  Dear Lord, it is likely that they know we are here. We are outnumbered, but I know you have brought your people through greater odds than this. It would be a travesty to my kingdom if they succeed in their plans. I pray for your protection, and of course, I hope we win, but never the less, your will be done.

  My prayer
mirrored the one Garrett had given the day before. I was relatively new at speaking to God, so I figured he knew the best way to pray. I had never thought God’s will may not be what seemed right to me. As Garrett had pointed out, He could see into the future and knew things we could not comprehend.

  As I waited for that precise moment when the sun would just peek over the horizon, I lifted the horn hanging from a string around my neck up to my lips. The conical antler was normally used by goat herders, but today it would signal the beginning of our battle. Filling my lungs with air, I blew into the mouth piece with all my might. Seconds later, the sound repeated itself all around the circle.

  My warriors who were skilled with a bow stood from the rocks and took aim while the rest of us rushed into the encampment. The Cordelians who had been sleeping began scampering from their bedrolls. Some never made it completely from their covers as the archers found their marks.

  I half ran, half stumbled down the embankment toward my target—the commander’s tent. The best way to kill a snake was to aim for its head. There was no doubt that I would have to fight my way in and knew I may not make it. Per my instructions, everyone in my group was aiming for the same thing.

  Like the Dermish, the favored weapon of Cordelia was also a staff, but theirs was equipped with a vicious, ax-like blade on one end. Holding my staff across in front of me, I blocked the attempts of my first attacker while one of my comrades cracked the man’s skull with their staff. Just as I turned to the next opponent, my attacker fell back with an arrow through his eye. The next was not as easy to take down. This skirmish gifted me with my first injury as his blade found its mark just below my shoulder. Thankfully, my armor took the brunt of it.

  Every inch gained was fought hard for. A symphony of grunts accompanied by cries of pain sounded all around. The thirsty earth soaked up the blood but not enough to take away the metallic stench. Bodies were beginning to pile up all around the camp. Unfortunately, most were Dermish. Should I sound the horn, signaling a retreat? It would have been unheard of in Rivania, but here?

 

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