A Charge of Valor

CHAPTER TWENTY

Kendrick hung there, high up on the cross, feeling his life force drain out of him as the second sun grew long in the sky. His wrists and ankles were swollen from being bound with coarse ropes to the wood, the pain unbearable from his limbs stretching, from hanging there hour after hour. He had kept his head hung low and tried not to look up anymore, not wanting to see anymore destruction; but he heard a moaning and he couldn’t help himself. He glanced around him, and saw all his friends hanging on the crosses beside him. Srog was on one side, Atme on the other, beside him Brom and Kolk and many other knights that Kendrick cared dearly for. At least, he told himself, they were still alive, or clinging to life. They were not dead, as the heaps of corpses were below.

Kendrick had tried to talk to them, but they’d been too weak or dehydrated to respond. They all seemed more dead than alive.

Kendrick heard the crack of whips, and looked out to see the picture of devastation that his beloved city had become: the survivors that remained were all enslaved, being led by Empire taskmasters, whipped, forced to lug huge rocks, moving one pile after another as they cleared rubble. Silesia had quickly morphed into an occupied slave city, a statute of Andronicus already rising into the sky, the Empire emblem—a lion with a bird in its mouth—already lodged above the city gates, and the Empire banner raised above that. All traces of the independence this city once had were gone. It was now subsumed, completely part of the Empire.

There came a commotion and Kendrick, licking his chapped lips, turned to see a group of Empire soldiers making way through the crowd; behind them, he was shocked to see, was none other than Andronicus himself, towering over the others. The soldiers before him held in chains a man who Kendrick, after several moments, recognized. It was his half-brother.

Gareth.

Kendrick’s eyes opened wide and he did a double take, wondering if he were seeing things. He was not. There, in the flesh, was Gareth, emaciated, growing a beard, looking disheveled. He was led by Empire soldiers, chains rattling as he shuffled along.

They came to a stop before Kendrick. The crowd fell silent as Andronicus came up beside Gareth and lay a huge hand around his skinny neck, covering it completely, his long fingernails scraping down to the base of Gareth’s throat.

Andronicus smiled.

“Identify who is who among these captives,” Andronicus said. “And we will spare your life.”

They all looked up at Kendrick and the others on the crosses.

“I will do it with pleasure,” Gareth said. “I will identify everyone and more. I have no love for any of them; your enemy is my enemy, too.”

Andronicus smiled down at Gareth.

“You are insolent,” he said. “And cold-blooded, even towards your own family. You are a man after my own heart. I like you. Free him,” Andronicus motioned to his guards, and they rushed forward and unshackled Gareth.

Gareth shook off the shackles, strutted forward, and walked right up to Kendrick, pointing a long, skinny finger in his face.

“That is Kendrick,” he said. “My former brother. Or half-brother. He is a bastard, really. He is head of the Silver. An important man,” he said, then turned and pointed elsewhere. “And that man beside him, he is Kolk, the head of the Legion; and that there is Brom, head of the army; and there is Atme, another hero of the Silver.”

Gareth went on and on, rattling off the names; with each name he pronounced, a fire burned in Kendrick’s stomach. He would kill Gareth for this, if he ever got the chance.

Finally, Gareth finished. He returned to Andronicus’ side, a satisfied smile on his face.

Andronicus smiled, a deep purring coming from somewhere in his throat, and he placed another hand on Gareth’s shoulder.

“You have done well,” Andronicus said. “You will be rewarded.”

Gareth stood there, puffed up.

“What position will you give me? Keep in mind that I am a King, after all. You could name me King of the Ring. That would be fitting.”

Andronicus laughed, heartily.

“I am going to reward you with the position of slave. You will be king of the dung-heap shovelers.”

Gareth’s face fell in horror.

“But you said you would reward me!”

“That is a reward,” Andronicus said. “I am not killing you.”

Gareth, panic in his eyes, suddenly turned and bolted from the group; his skinny frame aided him, and he was able to weave in and out of the crowd.

“FIND HIM!” Andronicus screamed to his shocked soldiers.

His men took off after him, but within moments Gareth found a small hole in the stone wall and dove into it. He was just skinny enough to wedge his way through, into some sort of hidden passage, and as the Empire soldiers reached the wall, they could not fit inside.

“If you lose him, you will die!” Andronicus called out.

The soldiers took off, racing the long way around the wall.

Andronicus, red-faced, turned his attention back towards Kendrick and the others. He stepped forward, and eyed them all closely.

After an interminable wait, he stepped up to Kolk.

“We will start with him,” Andronicus commanded. “We will kill just one a day.” He smiled. “I like to prolong my pleasure.”

Andronicus reached down, took a spear from the hand of one of his attendants, then stepped forward and suddenly pierced Kolk, right through the heart.

“NO!” Kendrick screamed out, as he watched Kolk’s mouth gushing with blood. Kolk screamed out in pain, then finally slumped his head, dead.

Andronicus, leaving the spear impaled in him, turned back to his men, as they all began to walk away.

“Tomorrow, we will choose another,” he said.

Kendrick struggled for all he had, but he could not loosen his ropes. He reached back and screamed out to the heavens, vowing vengeance for Kolk, for his people, for all of them. One day, somehow, he would kill Andronicus.