The Warlord

Chapter 46: Bastian

I can see the blue-domed palace of Serestine peeking out from the treetops. Despite my hunched, sagging figure, a smile curls across my face. Calliope is certainly dead now, which means that I am next in line for the throne; she foolishly left no heirs. Evelaen was only after the queen, so she should pose me no harm.

I hold in my groans of pain as I limp onto the dusty streets. A few blocks down, children are playing with sparks of magic. A mother opens up a window and begins to collect the laundry. Has Evelaen not arrived yet? I purse my lips. No. She must have. Has the queen escaped then? I sense eyes starting to shift towards me, and I wrap my cloak tight around my armor. My hood shrouds my face as I continue down the road, turning into a winding alley and pressing myself into the shadows. I must reach the palace and see what fate has befallen the queen.

The shady youth of Serestine hang by the moldy walls, flipping daggers for amusement and giving each other cruel grins. I stare them down as I pass, adjusting my cloak so that they see sharp, sheathed sword hanging by my belt. They let me stride by, turning their heads away from me and minding their own business. I break out of the alley and take a turn onto the main road. A few stalls have been set up, but the owners are only half-heartedly shouting out deals. The hopelessness in their voices only serves as a reminder to how time has not been kind to Serestine.

"Sir, fresh fruit? I have plums, apricots, pears, whatever you would like." But I can hear the buzz of flies swarming the fruit stall as I walk past.

"Sir, some fine jewelry for you?" The necklaces and bracelets that hang from the rack are rusted and green with decay.

I dismiss them, paying their words no mind. They give up as soon as I am out of earshot. I continue on the main road to the palace, treading silently over the dark cobblestone. It begins to drizzle after a few minutes, and my boots leave faint imprints of water and mud.

By the time I reach the palace, the sky has darkened considerably; the clouds are ominous and thunderous. A rotten stench hits my nose, and I have to stop myself from gagging. Wariness shoots up my spine, and my hand finds its way to my sword hilt. I am familiar with the pungent stench; it surrounded me on the battlefield. The smell of a carcass.

Then I spy it: a fallen guard, his head a few feet away from his body. There is blood on the grass; slick, shining blood. I race up the stairs and burst through the front doors of the palace. There are three bodies: all royal guards. I can tell from the stench and the puddles of blood that they have all been dead for some time.

"You!" A voice cries out in relief, startling me nonetheless. I whip my head around wildly, trying to find the source.

"Up here, sir!" I look up and see a guard peeking out from the first floor, a nasty gash obscuring most of his forehead.

Striding up the stairs, I stop when I reach the guard. He is clutching the staircase railing, his ankle bent at an odd angle. I release the grip on my sword hilt and help him stand.

"Thank you, sir," he breathes.

"Tell me what happened." I sling his arm over my shoulder and start to guide him towards the  medicinal chambers. There should be some first aid supplies that I can use to bandage him up; I need him to be in speaking condition.

"It was like a nightmare. She came and just... and just... wreaked havoc." He starts to shake uncontrollably.

"Steel yourself. I'll get you patched up, so keep talking." The medicinal chambers are in sight. Now if only this guard can last a little longer... 

"I was stationed near the entrance with two others. We heard fighting, and then Mikael... the guard out front... he shoved the doors open." His throat seems to close up, cutting off his voice. He starts to shake again, breathing heavily and jerking left and right.

I grit my teeth and hustle over to the medicinal chambers, shoving the door open. The cabinets appear untouched, and towards the back, there is a couch for patients. The guard is still having a fit when I set him down. Bandages... bandages... I rifle through the cabinets, almost knocking over various jars stuffed with herbs. There! Shrouded in the back, hidden behind ginseng and peppermint, a roll of white cloth peeks out. I return to the guard, who is now sprawled across the couch, eyes fixated on the ceiling, desperately trying to calm himself down.

"Hold still. Try to relax." Curses. I have never been good with comforting the wounded. I left that job to Vixen and Clover. I was the steadfast commander, the one that riled up Serestine's troops before battle. But now I have been reduced to an eager and naive whelp. My hands shake as I take a towel and clean the wound with cold water. Then, I wrap it tightly, staunching the bleeding.

The guard's eyes close for a moment, and he lets out a sigh of relief. I feel him go still, and then he sits up, placing a hand to the wound. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet. I need to know what happened here. What has become of the queen?" I go back to rifling through the cabinets, searching for the ingredients of that herbal tea Vixen told me of. As I pick out gloria, wuthering berries, and ginger, the guard takes a breath and begins to talk.

"She was beating Mikael back. He was a foot in front of me before he... before he went down. There was blood everywhere. Everywhere. And then Finn was fighting her, and I heard him scream when she stabbed him." He takes another breath. I start to boil the water and crush the herbs. "And... And then it was Cormac. Oh, Cormac." A sob releases when he says the name. I hear him sucking in tears and snot. "He shoved me behind him and started fighting. When she cut straight through his chest I realized that I had to do something. Anything. So I just started swinging left and right, and before I knew it, she gave me this." He pauses, most likely touching the wound on his head. "And then the queen..." My breath hitches, and I stop pouring steaming water into the cup. "The queen showed up, like the savior she is. She pushed me away and told me to run, to hide."

"And then what happened?" I am so close. So, very close. I can taste the answer to my burning question on the tip of my tongue.

"So I ran. I ran for my life and hid in the supply closet."

My hand starts to shake with so much rage that I have to set down the kettle. "No. What happened to the queen?" 

The guard is staring at me now, wide-eyed, terrified at the sudden change in my demeanor. "I'm-I'm sorry, sir. I don't know."

I crush the remaining herbs and haphazardly mix them in the cup, splashing water everywhere. It burns my skin to carry it to him, but I relish in the heat. I shove it towards the guard, not caring whether my sour glare shows or not. "Drink," I growl.

"Sir, there wasn't a body." The guard takes the cup from my hand. "She just... She just vanished. I don't know what happened to her."

"Drink!" I bellow. The guard goes white and starts gulping down the medicinal tea. I turn around, trying to calm myself down. Be still, Bastian. If Calliope is gone, I still have a chance at the throne. "Tell me," I say to the guard. "Is she truly gone? Is there truly no trace of her?"

"Y-Yes, sir. Nobody in the palace knows if she's dead or alive."

I tilt my head upwards and smile. "Thank you. You have been most helpful."