Benjin
He’s going to be so mad, thought Benj as he raced down the stairs. He was already late and would have no time to give the horses their feed. He shouted something half apologetic to the stables as he passed, determining to give the animals double rations when he made it back.
If he made it back.
Captain Jahaz was not easy on him when he was late. Last time, he had nearly split his skull wide open and Benj had spent the better part of a week recovering. And his mother hadn’t had any sympathy for him either. She’d simply said, “I told you to be early. Early is on time, and on time is late.” Benj hated it when she said that, but he hated it even more when she was right.
The muddy road from the Flats seemed extra filthy today as Benj was already starting to feel the bruises he would surely get from Jahaz. His feet hit the paved road that led to the castle, and he looked at the rising sun. He cursed again under his breath and dug deep to find the strength to keep running. As armiger to Captain Jahaz, Benj was practically expected to be filthy; a little more sweat on his dirty brown tunic and pants would not even be looked at twice.
Approaching the castle, he nodded a curt greeting to the two guards standing at the bridge that led inside.
“Jahaz will have your hide,” said one as Benj raced by. The other guard chuckled in agreement. Benj didn’t bother with a reply—he knew it was true.
The guards motioned to the ones manning the wall, who began to lift the gate just enough so Benj could slip through.
“Hurry through, Master Benj,” came a mocking shout from above. It was followed by a chorus of laughter from the rest of the guards.
At least I’m good for something, thought Benj. The guards sure love me.
He raced through the courtyard and up through passages and staircases too many to count. When Haidan Shar was first built, none of this had been here; it was a later addition that only came with the vast influx of wealth from the precious minerals that surrounded the great city. The Gem of the East, as it was called now, had started out as little more than a gravel pit. But as traders from far away began to hear the stories of the gems in the east, gems that would eventually become the city’s namesake, the Sharians realized that they could very quickly have a war on their hands over the riches. Their riches. Riches that should stay theirs, no matter how many corpses they would have to bury them under.
So the masons had built, the smithies had smithed, and, in the blink of an eye as armies measure time, Haidan Shar went from a quiet fishing town by the sea to a sprawling fortress worthy of royalty. And, only a few years before Benj had been born, that is just what Haidan Shar found itself with.
“Yes, Your Grace,” came a voice from up ahead. “But he needs his arms to carry my sword and feed the horses. Perhaps a few broken ribs will instead serve to remind him to be on time.”
It was Jahaz’s voice, and he was addressing the queen.
Benj felt sick.
He’d come to a halt outside the great wooden door of the king’s war room, but couldn’t work up the courage to go inside. Captain Jahaz was in there, along with the rest of the War Council, and Benj knew how loud the door was. There was no way to sneak in. They already knew he was late.
He took a breath and pushed it open. It groaned exactly as loud as he had hoped it wouldn’t. He couldn’t see the twenty-two pairs of eyes staring daggers at him as he walked in, but he knew he would have seen them if he’d opened his own.
“How nice of you to join us,” Jahaz said coldly. His dark brown eyes seemed to be boring into his skin.
Benj didn’t breathe. It was protocol for an armiger to be there, at his master’s beck and call, any time he might be needed. This was one of those times.
“We’ll talk about your tardiness later,” Jahaz continued. “Come.”
Benj opened his eyes and let out the breath he’d been holding in, knowing in the back of his mind that future breaths might not come as easily or pain-free. “Yes, Captain,” he said quietly.
Walking over to where the captain was standing, he took his place by his side. The eleven captains were standing with their armigers and looking at the queen, seated on her throne, looking more relaxed than she usually did in the war room. She smiled.
Standing next to the throne was a blond man whom Benj didn’t recognize.
The queen spoke. “Now that we are all here,” she said as Benj cringed, “please continue, Eowen.”
“General Duna Cullain wishes to form an alliance between the armies of Khala Val’ur, Ghal Thurái, and Haidan Shar, united under one banner for the first time in history against the Chovathi menace which threatens us all.”
A smirk worked its way onto the queen’s face. Then the smirk started spreading, first to a grin and then into laughter.
“Your Grace,” Eowen stammered, looking confused, “I do not understand why you laugh at this proposal.”
“Not at the proposal,” the queen said with more than a hint of amusement. She leaned forward on her throne, eyebrows arched in curiosity. “I laugh because somehow my sister Duna has become a general without my help.”