Part 5 Chapter 2

CHAPTER 33

 

 

W

hen Bevil wakes up he doesn’t know where he is. He is on the floor in a room. It is a small room with dirty walls and a bed next to him that takes up most of one side of the room. A small amount of fiery light is coming from behind him; he looks and finds the fourth wall of this room is actually a barred door. He is in a dungeon cell.

  Bevil quickly stands and suddenly feels pain coming from the back of his neck. He rubs his hand over it, feels a stab of more pain, and looks at his hand. It is clear so he isn’t bleeding. He rushes to the bars, looks outside. There is no one in sight but he can hear others, moans and groans of pain and fear and a laugh from somewhere in the distance. Bevil guesses that this cell was the one the Cultist Trugaime was in before. He bangs on the bars then his hands hurt and he feels stupid for doing so

  “Is anyone there?!” Bevil shouts out, the first reply he hears is his own echo, then moans and groans from other prisoners, and finally silence. “Hello!” he gets the same replies in the same order. 

  He backs from the bars and paces around unsure of what to do, and then he hears a new noise. It is loud and metallic and at a small distance. Then another new noise is heard, footsteps getting closer. He stops pacing and waits, the footsteps come closer with no hint of stopping.

  Though he knows that someone is coming to him he still tenses at the sight of the guard. He looks young but not too young, no facial hair and eyes that still have a small sense of innocence to them. He stares at Bevil with unhinged anger, holding a torch in one hand and his other hand is hovering over his sword. Bevil wants to say his name when he talks to him but is embarrassed because he doesn’t know it. He doesn’t even know if he has seen him before, ever.

  “What is it?” the young guard says in voice hinting at murderous rage. Bevil looks in those eyes and it hits him what is happening and what is going to happen soon.

  “You need to let me out.”

  “I don’t need to do anything for you.”

  “Please I-”

  “If you want out, pray to the Twelve for it.”

  Bevil glares at him in anger which makes the guard smile.

  “I am Bevil Bralag and-”

  “I know who you are, and I know what you did.”

  Bevil thinks of what to say next, this guard doesn’t seem to be one to tell him much of anything.

  “I want to see the Queen.”

  The young guard says nothing, he stands looking at Bevil then without warning he leaves. Bevil watches him shocked.

  “Hey! Come back here…tell the queen I want to see her!”

  Before he can finish he hears the metallic sound again, this time with more force, and knows the door slamming shut. Instead of wasting time trying to get attention again, he sighs and sits on the bed. He is restless and tired even though he has just woken up. He lies down and looks up at the ceiling. Before long he is asleep.

  The sleep is dreamless and short, he twists and turns several times trying to get comfortable but when it doesn’t work he stops trying. He wakes sometime later feeling better physically but not much else. He stares up at the ceiling again but feels a strange sensation as if he is being watched. He looks around and sees Moira standing in front of the barred door. She is alone which surprises Bevil, he thinks she would at least have one guard with her.

  He stares back up at the ceiling, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing his fear, and crosses his arms under his head. Though he cannot see she is staring at him with sad tearful eyes.

  “I’m surprised you can sit there gracing me with your presence,” he says loudly, thinking there is a guard or two close by out of sight and wants them to hear him.

  The mocking tone he uses plainly makes her grimace, which also goes unseen by Bevil. Moira stares at him and he stares at the ceiling in total silence, Bevil doesn’t want to talk and Moira doesn’t know what to say.

  Moira turns and is about to leave when Bevil finally looks her way again.

  “Why did you do it?”

  Her head shoots back to him, she looks as if she is surprised by the question, as if Bevil should already know the answer.

  “I told them because it is true.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes it does.”

  “Why, tell me why does it matter?”

  “It matters because this is Tov’ra, not Burden.”

  Bevil is silent for a moment, not because her words have hurt him but because he is thinking of another tactic to use. Then it comes to him, “I thought you loved me.”

  It does work, it makes her tear up more and look away from him, but it doesn’t work as much as he is hoping. He can see she is determined to let him stay in the dungeon; let him rot until his time comes.

  “I did, and I do. But that is no excuse.”

  “No that is a perfect excuse. When you love someone you do all you can to help them no matter what.”

  “Not like this! Not like what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  You went over to her in that cell; and you showed her my signature on that execution order didn’t you.”

  “Yes but I only went there to help her prepare for it, I thought the sooner she knew the better she would be.”

  “You went there with it to boast, to rub it in her face. Then what happened, you grew a conscience when she asked for a final favour? So without thinking you say yes to her immediately and send a girl to her death.”

  He looks at her pleading through his eyes for some mercy but he can see there is no changing her mind so he asks the only question left to him, “When will it happen?”

  “As soon as possible,” is her quick answer. Bevil cannot help but be aware of the vagueness of her answer. This tells Bevil it could be as soon as tomorrow morning. But he isn’t really sure, which he thinks is exactly why the vague ‘as soon as possible’ answer. Bevil doesn’t want vague answers, not to this question; he wants to know right now how long he has left.

  “How soon,” his voice carry’s force, just enough to tell her he is serious and wants a proper answer.

  “Since you want to know, your execution will occur when I am ready.”

  Moira walks away and Bevil furiously kicks out at the wall and yells out continuously. The sound reverberates again and again around the cell and out to the hall. His fellow prisoners yell back at him to shut up. At first he doesn’t which makes them shout louder and band on the walls with clenched fists and bare feet. Then he does stop but only because he knows she is gone out of hearing range and no one else is coming, and his throat is sore.

 

ø

 

Though Moira is vague about when, Bevil is actually right, it is in the early morning the day after he is imprisoned. The raised wooden platform that was going to be used for Sertia is now being used for Bevil. Nothing about is changed physically, but those who are working the finishing touches on it or whenever someone passes it they now put the image of Bevil instead of Sertia standing on its centre. When they finish the platform one man brings out a small basket and places it in front of the block where Bevil’s head will later be. They all look at the basket as if it is something to dread.

  The executioner is standing leaning on the platform from behind, away from prying eyes. He is understandably upset at Bevil, he blames him for ruining his fun, he was looking forward to seeing Sertia on this platform and since Bevil has been imprisoned and to take Sertia’s place on the platform he has been taking practice swings at anything. Logs for fire, fat meats, even just the air. With every swing he imagines it ending with a sharp forceful slice into Bevil’s neck and his head falling forward into the basket.