Hope Sundered

Zordecai stood waiting with hands crossed over his broad chest and a scowl etched on his face. Two Azrahterans, bruised and dirty, emerged from the mausoleum with a report for their general. They confirmed what he already knew. He’d heard the rumble and felt the tremor. Seeing their general’s fury, the two soldiers quaked in terror, but they were no longer his focus.

“How did you know?” Zordecai demanded of Varzeth through teeth clenched so tight he could almost grind them to powder. “Traitorous dog! Are you in league with the enemy?” His face was flushed, and every vein in his neck and head were bulging in time with his pounding heart.

Once again Varzeth didn’t shrink back under Zordecai’s menacing ire. “On the contrary, I’ve been studying them. If you’d been doing the same, you’d realize no one retreats from a suicide mission. Neither would they risk access to the city, which left a trap as the only possible explanation.”

“You’re finished,” Zordecai hissed. “I’ve suffered your insubordination for the last time!”

“I’m confused, mighty general. Are you accusing me of disobedience, or admitting I saved your life?”

Zordecai noticed then the many faces of his men, watching, listening, wondering what would transpire next. “As of right now, you’re stripped of your command and banished to the western bank. If you’re not killed during this campaign, I’ll kill you myself for treason before we return to Azrahtera. Now get out of my sight!”

Varzeth complied without another word. Those present parted with looks of surprise and fear, allowing the disgraced lieutenant to pass. Murmurs of surprise and confusion rippled out like waves in his wake, but none dared to protest. As the sun crawled out of the earth to light another day, Varzeth dissolved into the crowd and vanished.

⸞ ⸎ ⸟

The dust began to settle. Every inch of Endari’s body hurt from bruises and gashes, and the ringing in his ears had yet to subside, but the pain reminded him he was still alive.

From his back he opened his eyes to the infinite black of the lightless tunnel. He tried to call out for Hoit but only managed to cough and gag for several agonizing seconds. His eyes watered, and his lungs were on fire.

Nothing seemed broken, but significant pressure on his left leg just below the knee told him it was trapped beneath a pile of debris. He didn’t risk moving it until he could sit up and examine the rocky snare with his hands.

The mission had been a failure, and he was to blame. Zordecai lived on, and only two of his high-ranking officers had been killed. The tunnel had been sealed and Wyndham was safe once again, but such consolation rang hollow.

He wondered if the tunnel was still clear back to the palace. He wondered how long it would take for someone to find him. For all he knew, he was bleeding out and was too numb to notice. Hoit must’ve sacrificed himself, driving the Azrahterans back far enough to catch them all in the collapse.

He began to rehearse what he’d say to Hoit’s wife, assuming he'd get the chance. He’d tell her of his bravery, how he’d given his life to protect her and the rest of Wyndham. How he was the most loyal man Endari had ever known.

“This is no time to rest, Captain.”

Tears formed in the corners of Endari’s eyes upon hearing Hoit’s gruff voice behind him. The merciful darkness shrouded his embarrassing display of emotion. He cleared his throat—because of the dust—and admitted, “I thought we were finished, old friend.”

“You should know better than that.”

“Then get off your backside and help me out of this!”

Hoit scuffled around until they made contact, and dislodged Endari’s leg. They soon discovered the rest of the tunnel was intact, so they crawled until the suffocating darkness became infused with a dim light ahead. Moments later they reached a small circular chamber. A narrow spiral staircase rose to the short ceiling, which ended at an open wooden trap door bathed in candlelight.

One of Endari’s men called out from above. Hoit answered back, which started a chain reaction of excited shouts, informing others they’d survived. Endari’s ankle was sore and swollen but not broken. He’d been stabbed in the thigh, though it wasn’t very deep. Hoit had suffered several shallow punctures from Azrahteran blades and a gash on his left shoulder from the avalanche, but nothing critical.

After their injuries had been tended Endari met with Bel’ami and Losigalender in the patriarch’s makeshift war room and relayed what they’d learned.

“So, there’s treason afoot in the Azrahteran camp, eh?” Bel’ami chewed his bottom lip. “Hopefully we can use this to our advantage.”

“Perhaps,” Endari said. “He could’ve been playing games with me. We just don’t know enough about these people.” He slammed his fist on the table, his frustration echoing off the polished wood. “Even so, I should’ve killed Zordecai while I had the chance. Please forgive me, Sire.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. We knew it was a gamble from the start. I’m just grateful you and your men made it back alive.”

“If anything, I’m to blame,” Losigalender said. “It was my idea to go after Zordecai in the first place.”

Endari waved him off. “No, that was a good idea, but I allowed myself to become distracted and waste our only opportunity! I collapsed that tunnel for nothing!”

Bel’ami sighed. “What’s done is done. What I need to know now is how Zordecai plans to retaliate.”

Endari was on his feet before his liege had finished speaking. “I’m on it. I’ll be back with an update in an hour.”

⸞ ⸎ ⸟

Bel’ami watched him go before reaching for his wine goblet. He sat back and sipped for a while, finding refuge in his quiet contemplation. At one point he drew in a long breath and let it out slowly before saying, “Hessa’s with child. We found out last night.”

“Congratulations, Sire,” Losigalender offered, hints of genuine happiness forced from his monotone reply.

“We should be celebrating. This should be the happiest day of my life, but instead it’s the most terrifying. Hessa’s my joy. I can’t let the Azrahterans get their hands on her—or the baby.”

A heartbeat had not yet passed when he remembered who was with him. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Maker’s mercy, Losi! I was being insensitive. I’m so sorry!”

Losigalender dismissed the apology with a slight shake of his head. “Think nothing of it, Sire.”

Another long silence fell like a soft spring rain as both men wandered along across the landscape of their thoughts, unsure of what they were searching for. “What was it like raising a daughter?” Bel’ami finally asked. “Hessa’s hoping for a girl.”

Years of memories came flooding forth, casting a nostalgic smile upon Losigalender’s face. “The most extraordinary blend of frustration and joy. Keila was clever and fearless. She had an unbreakable inner strength and a stubborn streak as long as the Dragonspine River. She was amazing with a bow. She could shoot as well as any man I’ve ever seen, including Lark Prentice.

“She had a tender, compassionate side as well. As loyal as they come. And did I mention beautiful? Every boy in Chastin was in love with her. How they used to fight over her! Can’t say I blame them. She was the mirror image of her mother and mimicked her in more ways than I can count. You would’ve like them both.”

“May I ask you something personal?”

“Of course, Sire.”

“Your wife … how did she die?”

Losigalender looked the patriarch squarely in the eyes. “I never said she was dead.”