Chapter 34: Strong Spirit and Still Air
In the warm, flickering light of the tent, his golden teeth glistened playfully upon his smile.
"Cousin, we have reason to celebrate! The Tarkaans will escort you to Calormen in the morning. But for now, we drink, drink, drink!" Fernes cheered, holding up two large jugs, the liquid happily sloshing about.
Judith swallowed hard. "But Cousin, the battle is tomorrow…"
"Then we will drink to our victory! Come, do not deny my gifts," he said, forcing a bottle into her chest as he held the other high in salutation. "To brave Judith, willing to sacrifice her sanctity for the conquest of her people."
His eyes were harsh on her as she slowly raised the bottle to her lips. The rim was cold and she inhaled deeply before letting the drink slide into her mouth. She was certain it was poisoned. And while cursing Fernes' cowardice, she hoped that the poison was strong and by taking large gulps, it would send her into a slumber that no torture could wake. Tolerating the alternative was unfathomable. One can only hope for death in such situations.
It tasted fresh and sweet of dandelions and figs. As she tipped the bottle back further, her head felt light and she remember how she used to help her mother pick dandelions in the late spring mornings, and they would sit in the shade plucking petals to be used for an old gypsy recipe for dandelion wine. And at the end of autumn, just when the last leaf would fall, her mother would open a ready bottle and they would share a glass with Father Frost.
Finishing a third of what the jug could hold, she planted herself on the ground, wiped her mouth, and waited. She waited while every twinge in her stomach startled her with the immediate thought, "This is it".
Fernes took a swig from his bottle and then furrowed his brow at the sight of her. "What concerns you? Is your wine bitter?"
Judith looked up to him, tears running down her cheeks.
To her surprise, Fernes' expression softened and he knelt down to her, wiping the wetness kindly from her cheeks. Taking off his cloak, he wrapped it around her shoulders and kissed her on the head.
"Isn't it peculiar that taste can evoke the past as such?" he pondered, sitting close to her. "Your mother always made the best dandelion wine. I even remember from when I was small boy."
Fernes' breaths were shallow and his eyes seemed remarkably glossy and genuine. And within the prolonged pause, Judith's head swam and suddenly everything she overheard in the woods (or thought she overheard) felt as foggy as a dream. But the wine was real and it was not drugged, poisoned, polluted, or defiled. It was her own family's recipe.
Feeling liberated from her fears and a nostalgic warmth from within, she smiled and her voice squeaked as she forced it from her throat. "Cousin, the wine is very good."
He smiled. "I've found that dandelions are sweeter here."
"And the spirits stronger," she added with a light chuckle.
They raised their bottles and the glass clinked in a toast. "To ancestry!"
oOo
It was nearly three hours until sunrise, four jugs of wine, and two concerned visits from the army's general later when something or great significance happened. At the time, Judith had not noticed anything remarkable, but many argue that some of the most seeming insignificant events can turn out to be the most important.
Although Fernes acted as if he could drink any man under the table, the truth was that he could hardly hold his liquor. This was something Judith learned upon their first meeting and was a fact that he would never admit. It was then, during an inebriated attempt to mime a drunkenly slurred joke, Fernes whipped around and nearly toppled down on the floor. The scabbard that never left his side caught on the corner of rickety table, tangling him up and throwing numerous bits of collected artifacts to the ground. While nearly choking on her laugher, Judith helped him regain his balance and innocently suggested he remove his sword in order to prevent further mishap. Without a second thought, Fernes unstrapped the leather belt around his waist and leaned his beloved sabre in the corner, leaving himself to stumble freely there on after.
"Oh, how fortunate it is that you are immortal!" Judith laughed. "Any other man that dare step out onto a battle field in such a state wouldn't live past three breaths."
Fernes smiled, sloppily. "Yes, it does work towards my advantage. Look around! Look at the beginnings of my empire! Already men lay down their swords at the mere sound of my name!"
"It just shows how foolish the Narnians are! How could anyone defeat an invincible lord?"
"Fools! Great fools! Though sometimes I worry they aren't fools at all," he slurred. "If they were to know that I could only die by my own sword, they would surely send an agent to obtain it…..or an assassin to carry out the deed."
It was a sobering thought.
Their eyes slid to the sabre propped in the corner. The air was still.
Suddenly, Judith scrambled towards the sword as Fernes pounced, slamming her forcefully into a post. The tent shook violently as he batted her against the wall, holding her throat firmly with one hand while the other revealed a knife concealed inside of his boot. Judith clawed at the fingers tightly gripped around her neck, grunting and gasping, her surroundings swirling around her a rapid haze.
His alcohol soaked breath blew on her brow as his tongue sloshed about, licking his lips in anticipation. It would have been quicker and easier had he drugged the wine, but none of it was about making it quick or easy. It was about the game, and Judith had been a worthy opponent. But now, with one quick slice, he would render the Queen useless, leaving her King open for the taking.
Judith had stopped squirming. His hand jumped from her throat to her jaw in order to pry it open, but he paused at the sight of her gaping, helpless eyes. Clutching onto her face, his expression turned to a dissatisfied snarl.
"You give up so easy. Fight back!" he growled, throwing her to the floor.
The wind whistled outside as Judith lay on the floor still, defeated. The world seemed to slow down as Fernes' foot buried into her gut, once. And then twice. Her breath escaped her body, but she hardly noticed. She just remained on the floor, watching the taut canvas wall start to sway in the wind until sword toppled over and fell in her reach. She grit her teeth and quickly swept up the sword, lunging to her feet, swiping the blade through the air.
There was a thud and the air was still again.
Fernes' head rolled to her feet. His insides were filled with fossil and ash, and the particles blew up in the air like smoke when his body fell. Judith covered her face with her arm and began to cough. Loosing the strength to stand, she collapsed to her knees as the dust settled. She drew her arm back. There were spots of blood on her sleeve.