Author note: This story follows my last LoD fic "Wings of War," but it's not necessary to read it in order to understand this story (though I recommend reading it, of course). Just know that if anything here raises questions, the answers may be in "Wings of War."
On my last night I could not sleep. My mind tossed a myriad of ideas and plans and schemes. Memories and regrets came to me. I relived the appointment of the traitorous councilor and the last hours before my capitulation in Bale and incarceration in Hellena Prison.
I had thought my uncle would take timely possession of me and begin formal succession procedures and perhaps plans for my "voluntary" exile. But the head warden had shocked me by promising that I would be executed at daybreak.
The chains clinked with my restless movements. The iron irritated the abrasions on my wrists which I had caused by my attempts to escape.
I had tried bribery. I had appealed to the gray-haired guards as a helpless boy in hopes that they would think of their children and take pity.
Thus far they had proven as immovable as my shackles. If Fruegal kept his promise, I had little time to think of a way out. The dark canvas of the sky had softened to a lighter blue in the short time since the hooded minister had left me. How had I been so foolish as to think that a foreigner would not have been corrupted by our Serdian duplicities? My trust in him cost the Duchy everything.
As the first rays of dawn kissed the stone interior of Helena Prison dread consumed me. Heavy footsteps approached. The double doors of the main entrance swung open and the head warden entered.
Two guards from the previous morning trailed him. Fruegal paced the length of the room and stood at the far end in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. From there he stared meaningfully in my direction then pursed his lips into a whistle and patted his massive thigh as though commanding a dog to come. When I did not move he chuckled and signaled the guards. They approached as one. I caught the older one's eye then darted my gaze between him and open doorway. He grinned and turned back to heave the door closed. I didn't bother to fake disappointment. I had the younger one to myself.
I gritted my teeth as he reached for my bruised arm. When he pulled me close I whispered, "Do you think Fruegal will ever credit you for my capture? He will take every shred of glory and no one will remember you. But, if you help me, your name will live in honor. Bards will sing of you for a hundred years: the hero who rescued a king."
He spat on me. Warm saliva oozed down my bare chest as we walked to the head warden.
"This is going to be a good day, don't you think?" said Fruegal. "Come here, look at this sunrise." He forced me to the edge of the great window which spanned most of the eastern wall. An early breeze chilled the sweat on my face. "You should be happy too," said Fruegal, "When you're dead, Serdio will have peace."
My breath ceased as I contemplated how far away the ground lay. Is this how I would end, with a shove from Fruegal's meaty hand and the firmament coming up to greet me?
The older warden tentatively spoke up, "But Sir, the order says to leave him alive."
"The emperor only needs his body," insisted Fruegal. "He just wants to parade the corpse through the streets so that no one can claim there is another ruler but Doel."
I turned to him, "Fruegal, don't be deceived. My uncle wants power, not peace. If he reigns over all of Serdio, he will use the united military to attack our neighbors in Tiberoa. Doel was not satisfied ruling alongside my father and he will not be sated by-."
"Stop telling me what to do, boy." Fruegal shook me until the walls, ceiling, and floor mixed together. "In this prison," One massive hand clutched my throat, "I am king."
For a few moments I could only pant and wait for the world to stop spinning. The junior warden took a hesitant step toward us, made a quick gesture in my direction, but then edged back silently.
When I could speak again I said, "You must not allow that to reach Doel's ears. He may decide to turn on you as well."
"What did I say? You don't listen, do you?" My head thudded against the flagstones as Fruegal flung me away.
"I think I liked it better when you didn't 'have the means to speak with vulgar men' like me."
It didn't surprise me that I hadn't been able to play Fruegal. He didn't want to reason with me. He wanted to kill me. My head throbbed as I considered my last hope.
"For your sake," I inclined my head to the older warden as much as possible, "I hope Doel is merciful."
The warden's face paled. "His Majesty Emperor Doel wants him kept alive for now. He rewards obedience."
"So do I," replied Fruegal. "Fetch my tools, Pelius."
Pelius opened his mouth, hesitated, regarded me. I forced my eyes to meet his. This guard had a fondness for lashing me with chains. I felt like shrinking beneath his gaze. Even my short stay at Hellena had started to make me shy. A wary coward seemed to be conceived in me. When I found a way out of this I would have work on that.
"Sir," he said, "We had the escape by the knight. The hooded man entrusted us with his girl and we lost her," He licked his lips. "Is there a way to show that this prison has returned to its former glory, that we are still the envy of the nation?"
Fruegal blinked slowly at him, turned to me, then returned his gaze to the warden. "I guess if I deliver the most valuable prisoner safely to Kazas, that will prove our worth. Who knows? Maybe they'll finally hand over the coin for new recruits."
My heart thudded hard enough to outpace my best destriers. If I had one more night surely I could encounter a guard whom I could bribe or maybe even threaten. If I could find another nail I would pick the locks. My first experiments had revealed some of their secrets. If they would only give me a little more time I could free myself.
My shoulders slumped as I thought. And then what? I would still be in the belly of a Sandoran tower in the midst of enemy territory. Hellena had not earned its fearsome reputation from incompetence.
"What was that noise?" said a warden, "If those worthless trainers freed the dogs again…"
But Hellena wasn't perfect. Lavitz had escaped. It was possible. I vowed in my mind to any divinities who would listen that if I returned to the throne I wouldn't make the same mistakes. I wouldn't be so trusting and foolishly naive.
Tumult pressed through the heavy oaken doors of the main entrance and reached our ears. Fruegal's head snapped towards me. His nostrils flared as he regarded me with something like fear.
Maybe I would not need to rescue myself after all. Even if their numbers were inferior, an exceptionally prepared squadron of knights could force their way into this prison. Hoax held the closest large garrison, but the outpost of Jabran played host to the 8th Knighthood who called themselves the eagle-soldiers. Known for subterfuge and ruthlessness, their few numbers could allow them to move swiftly enough to arrive here in such little time.
No. Serdian knights would not engineer this mission because they would have received my orders to stand down.
"Not again!" Fruegal's voice slapped away my reverie. "I'm not going to lose another prisoner. They can't have him." He looked to each guard in turn. "We tried our best to keep the runt alive, but dead is better than free."
Pelius sighed then nodded. His chin descended with the finality of an executioner's axe. I had lost my only ally.
A leather fastening rasped as Fruegal drew his weapon. The club looked too massive for human use. Fruegal's muscles flexed and the tissues beneath his skin rippled as he wielded it.
I would like to say that I thought only of the chaos which would descend upon my country. Of the people whose lives would be thrown in disarray as the power of Sandora overwhelmed them. And I did think of these things too, but I also concentrated on personal regrets.
I should have listened to my ministers when they urged me to consider marriage and to give thought to providing an heir for Basil. But then any child of mine would have faced a life of war like mine. Maybe this was the only way I could bring peace.
Pelius adjusted my handcuffs so that my wrists hung in front then he attached my chain to a metal ring on the floor. The manacles tugged me forward as he shortened the chain. His hands descended onto my shoulders. His gloves were rough against my skin as he turned me away from the head warden. He probably thought it a kindness. I felt naked. It would have been better to face the blows as they came. How many would it take? Would Fruegal hit my head first and knock me insensate or would he make it more painful by shattering the bones in my back-
The door flew open. Lavitz burst through all silver armor, glinting spear, and righteous anger. A familiar red-clad swordsman ran in after. Several other people followed. Lavitz scanned the room and found the threats as any soldier should, but he took a moment to meet my eyes. Relief flooded through me. We were too far apart for words, but a friendship as deep as ours doesn't always need them.
An arrow whistled through the air and struck Fruegal's shoulder. He lifted his club with the same arm and charged Lavitz's group, roaring as he attacked. The two junior wardens ran after him and joined the fray.
I spent only a moment observing the battle. Then I pulled on the iron ring, twisted, pushed against it with my heel. Lavitz could free me after the battle, but I didn't want him to think me helpless. After huffing a few loose strands of sweaty hair from my face I tried again and again. Finally a crack sounded. Not from the ring nor the chain links. A side door had opened. Across from my shoulder stood a figured cloaked in black.
The counselor had returned and he knew. His sudden reappearance, the confident stance he assumed, the resolute set of his jaw below thin-pressed lips. I couldn't give logical evidence for my assurance, but nevertheless I knew that he had figured out the location of the Moon Gem.
My hands balled into useless fists. My remaining strength could not force the chains.
I had scarcely enough time to throw him a glare before he dashed to my side inhumanely fast. First he stilled me. My heart relaxed from its frantic gallop. A warmth settled on my back like a friend's embrace. Tension in my limbs slacked into restful immobility. Then a searing pain drilled through my core. I tried to scream but I couldn't shout my rage, moan my frustration or even cry for help.
I wanted Lavitz. I wanted his friends. I wanted my Papa. I would have begged my captors for their mercy if my mouth would function. Every part of me was consumed.
He took something out of me. Something that felt like everything. I was beyond bereft. Nothing remained in me. When I fell to floor I was dimly surprised that my body did not shatter, so brittle did I feel.
Darkness clawed at my vision. A voice I loved slashed through the clamor of weapons, the pain and the fear. When we were younger, Lavitz had saved me from loneliness and boredom and anxiety countless times. He would come for me once more. But the counselor. No mortal could move like that. Would Lavitz realize his opponent was more than he seemed? I certainly had not.
I had only the strength to move my head, blinking rapidly to clear my vision. My eyes lit upon a wondrous sight. An impossible figure stood across the room. It had the form of a man whose limbs and torso were sheathed in emerald armor. His fists gripped a massive trident, brown in color, but made of an unearthly material. The points were wrought in burnished silver. He shook out a pair of iridescent wings that glimmered with golden light lent from the dawn.
If I could inhale properly, the sight would have taken my breath away. Could anything so beautiful exist in the present world? For an absurd moment I wondered if the traitor had killed me and this winged escort had come to guide my soul into the eternal abyss. But the being's face was as familiar as mine own. Somehow Lavitz and this creature were one.
My eyes squinted against a sudden light. The counselor now held a sword that must have materialized from nothing. Hissing flames formed the blade. The strange weapon flickered with every hue of yellow, white, and orange. Even from a distance, the heat scorched my skin.
Lavitz blasted across the room shouting a war cry as he plunged toward the hooded man. His flight left a gust of wind in his wake.
With ungodly speed, the councilor met him halfway. He thrust the fire-sword into Lavitz's chest, slicing through the green armor as easily as hateful words tear through the soul.
My world shattered. I screamed. At first I thought I did, but it was another voice that rent the air with all the despair and anguish that I felt.
Lavitz fell to the ground with the sound of boulders crashing. My useless body refused to move.
The confrontation threw back the minister's hood. I saw his entire face for the first time. It was youthful and smooth, but crowned with a cap of hair as silver as an elder's. Nothing human looked out of his red eyes.
With a swirl of his black cloak he strode to the window and jumped out.
At that point, someone might have spoken, but I did not care.
I told myself Lavitz would survive. That he would overcome this just as he had bested dozens of opponents before. The magical power he wielded would heal him. It wasn't so very large a wound…
The red swordsman ran to my friend's body and gathered him in his arms. Rivers of scarlet flowed past his fingers as he tried to staunch the cleft.
I could not fool myself for long. These sorts of injuries are common in war. Stabs to the abdomen kill quickly or slowly, but the outcome is inevitable. I waited at the bedside of one soldier who had taken nearly three days to succumb to a torso wound. By his shuddering chest, I knew that Lavitz would not suffer long.
I had to be with him. When I came to him I would share my love one more time. Tell him things I had always intended to reveal but had never worked up the courage. When I was with him I would tell him I was sorry.
No strength remained in my body, but I needed to reach my friend. He could not die in the arms of a stranger. Lavitz had suffered a mortal wound for me, I would do this for him. My fingers trembled as they clawed the stone floor. With my hands cuffed together I had to crawl on my elbows. I covered half the length of my body then one span. My leg tingled as though spiders creeped beneath the skin. I could control one leg then the other. I crossed two body lengths then... the cruel snap of the chain links rooted me to the iron ring. I could go no further.
How foolish I had been to think that remorse for war crimes and the sting of fists were true torment.
Now I knew pain.
I carried the responsibility for many deaths during my reign, but never had the weight of guilt smothered my soul as it did in those moments. Lavitz's lips trembled as he spoke for the last time. The other man leaned closer to hear. My throat swelled and my eyes stung, but I refused to allow tears to blind me. Lavitz coughed a final time. His hand clenched into a fist then loosened and all movement ceased. The swordsman said his name first so softly that I barely understood then he shouted, "Lavitz!" while shaking his armored form. I willed and wished and prayed for it to be undone. But Lavitz did not move again.
It felt as though every happy moment was ripped from me and trampled into oblivion. I did this to him. I trusted that fiend and it killed my friend.
While I watched in disbelief, Lavitz vanished. What sorcery had overtaken the world? I had thought that once I was free of the manacles and chain I would… but now I could never even touch him again. It was almost like he never was. Death is cruel, but disappearance is unfathomable.
Could it be that he had gone to some other place? Maybe he'd been magicked away to an etherworld where he was alive and healthy. I had to stop playing the child. Lavitz, my friend had died, but in such a way that denied me even the consolation of funeral rites. For without a body how could one perform them?
As anguished thoughts flooded my mind, a circle of light formed where Lavitz had lain.
I blinked against what I took for a figment of imagination, but the bright sphere remained and flew across the room towards me.
I am no soldier, but my training had not taught me to passively watch a potential threat approach. Yet, I did nothing. My willingness to combat had vanished like my friend.
The light had a green tint. It halted before me then floated in front of my chest. My manacled hands rose to touch it. It was solid. The sphere pulsed with the warmth of an eternal heartbeat. Its luminescence filtered through my fingers and cast streams of emerald and pearl onto the stone floor. I whispered, "Thank you, Lavitz," saying it like a prayer. For this was his last gift to me. I tucked the ball of light into the clothing that the prison guards had allowed me to keep. Then Lavitz's companions came to me.
The red-armored swordsman (had Lavitz called him 'Dart?') opened his mouth, let it fall closed, tried again, but sorrow seemed to rob him of words. Dart rubbed his eyes furiously with the back of his forearm. Then he freed me with the dead warden's key.
"We shouldn't linger," said one of the others, a woman with raven hair. Feet shuffled and voices coughed. They might have exchanged mournful glances among each other, but my focus remained on the spot where my friend's body had lain.
"King," Dart's voice broke, "Your Majesty, we must flee. Come away with us."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. As I struggled to my feet my body betrayed me again. My stiff, bruised limbs moved sluggishly. Dart extended a gloved hand. I looked from that hand, past his worn armor to his face, eyes shining with tears, mouth pulled down in sadness. His expression spoke the sorrow of my heart, but the angles of his face and the golden skin whispered of a foreign origin. My vow against naivete returned to me. As the Evening Glory closes its petals against the scorching desert sun so I closed myself to this stranger. I ignored his hand and forced myself to rise and follow.
Author Note: Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my story. Please let me know what you think.