Hope Sundered

Lark Prentice sat alone at a small table along the wall of the common room at the Wall’s Shadow with both hands clutched around his half-empty mug. It was late; he knew he had to be at his post on top of Wyndham’s wall at sunrise, but he didn’t care. It’s not like he was going to miss anything.

The Azrahterans were unable to breach the city, and Wyndham’s archers weren’t about to waste their limited arrows on expendable targets. No one would reprimand him for being late to a stalemate. The days had blurred into an endless routine of watching, drinking, sleeping, and repeating.

Every now and then a fellow Chastinite would ask to join him or offer him a chair at their own table, but he politely refused both. His thoughts were consumed with the image of Zordecai, standing still as his arrow came streaking in, eager to bury itself in the general’s face. A guaranteed bullseye, possibly his best shot ever.

Until a crazed fanatic threw himself in front of the fatal missile to protect his beloved leader.

Zordecai didn’t flinch, as if he expected one of his minions to sacrifice themselves. Did he know which soldier would do it? Was that man now a hero among the Azrahteran ranks, or had his memory been discarded with his body?

Lark wondered how many other soldiers were willing to martyr themselves for their general. He doubted it was all of them, but he knew he’d exhaust his arrows long before their loyalty ran out. He needed a better way to hit his target.

He thought of Keila then, knowing her vivid imagination would’ve conjured some grand ideas. His heart ached with missing her. For many nights he dreamt she’d somehow escaped the lake and would make her way to Wyndham, but that fantasy died with the Azrahterans’ arrival.

Lark wiped his eyes and downed the second half of his mug. The potent beverage tingled in the back of his throat, mixing with the bitter taste of despair. He knew he should stop, but he decided to ignore his better judgement. His head was already swimming anyway.

Tanni arrived just then, with a full pitcher and bright smile. The cheerful barmaid always seemed to show up right when he found the bottom of his mug. She looked to be a year or two older than he was, full-figured and very beautiful.

“About to call it a night?” she asked, tilting her head to toss her long blond curls back over her shoulders.

“Nah,” he slurred. “I’ve been trying to drown my sorrows, but I think they learned to swim.” He flashed a grin and chuckled at his own pitiful attempt to be funny before mumbling, “Nothin’ better t’do anyway.”

Tanni placed a gentle hand on Lark’s shoulder and met his bleary gaze. “Wyndham’s a beautiful city and has much to offer. I’d be happy to give you a tour sometime if you’d like.”

Lark swallowed hard and looked away, certain he was blushing. Tanni patted his shoulder and twirled away, tending to the other patrons. Lark didn’t realize he’d been staring until she disappeared from sight.