Contents
One - The Little Dogs and All
Two - The Stars Above Govern our Conditions
Three - So Fair and War Like
Four - So Young and so Untender
Five - The Sword is Out
Six - The Strength of the Enemy
Seven - Weapons! Arms! What's the Matter Here?
Eight - Haply, When I shall Wed
Nine - I Have a Journey, Sir, Shortly to Go
Ten - Freedom Lives Hence
Eleven - Gods That we Adore
Twelve - What Wretches Feel
Thirteen - No Better Company
Fourteen - Special Cause is Here
Fifteen - Life! Death! I am Ashamed
Sixteen - Well Armed Friends
Seventeen - Anger Hath a Privilege
Eighteen - A Love that Makes Breath Poor
Nineteen - He is Gone, Indeed
Twenty - To their Dear Shelter, Take Thee
Twenty-One - Honour's Bound
Twenty-Two - A Better Place
Twenty-Three - The Child was Bound
Twenty-Four - Your Name, Your Quality?
Twenty-Five - Our Largest Bounty
Twenty-Six - You are of the Commission
Twenty-Seven - Darker Purpose
Twenty-Eight - Thy Fierce Sister
Twenty-Nine - Broken Senses
Thirty - This Day's Battle's Fought
Thirty-One - You Have so Lost a Father
Thirty-Two - Set in the Stocks
Thirty-Three - Thou Art Twice her Love
Thirty-Four - Why Then She Lives
Thirty-Five - Oh Villain, Villain
Thirty-Six - You Cowardly Rascal
Thirty-Seven - Mine Own Jealousy Curiosity
Thirty-Eight - I Have No Food for Thee
Thirty-Nine - With Strained Pride
Forty - I Have O'erheard a Plot
Forty-One - Learn to Lie
Forty-Two - The Argument of Your Praise
ONE
The Little Dogs and All
MATILYN MALEVUS DUCKED AROUND A CORNER, HIDING from the approaching soldiers. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears that she was surprised the soldiers didn't hear it.
"Where did she go?" This came from one of the soldiers. Matilyn nearly gasped out loud at how close he sounded. She clapped a hand over her mouth.
"I don't know," said another, "I think she ran back towards the square. Let's check there."
Matilyn stayed where she was for several minutes, listening to the footsteps of the soldiers grow further away with each second that passed. Finally, she felt comfortable letting out a long breath of air.
Matilyn knew the attacking soldiers could only mean one thing: war.
Around her, fires spread rapidly throughout the city of Valishna. Like these sweeping infernos, the King of Lamonte had moved quickly with little remorse for this chosen southernmost port-town of Arinford. It would be the first of the northern lands to fall under his control. Hundreds of bodies littered the streets--Lamonte's soldiers didn't discriminate whom they cut down, young and old, fleeing and fighting.
She stepped out from around the corner and took a long look around. She didn't see any soldiers, though thick smoke made it difficult to see more than a few dozens yards in the distance.
She cautiously continued down the residential street. Still-lit lamps showcased empty living rooms and tables with half-eaten food. Abandoned animals wandered, looking for their owners. For the most part, though, the street had already been evacuated.
Its wasn't until the end of the street that Matilyn saw Betty Serse, an older, overweight woman was sitting at her kitchen table, looking a little lost.
Matilyn didn't bother with knocking, and Betty let out a low gasp when the door burst open.
"It's only me," Matilyn said quickly. "It's Matilyn."
"Oh," Betty said, a large hand going to her chest, "oh, you scared me, Matilyn. What are you doing here?"
"I should ask you the same question," Matilyn said. "Why aren't you with the convoys?"
"I decided to stay," Betty said. "I'm baking cookies, you know."
Matilyn couldn't believe her ears, "I'm sorry, what?"
"I'm staying," Betty repeated. "The soldiers, they came by and said the people who stayed inside would be spared. So I'm staying."
"But you can't. The soldiers are liars, they're not going to let anyone alone."
Betty shook her head, "Of course they will, Matilyn. Oh, you look terrible. You have ash all over your robes."
Matilyn looked down at the white robes she was wearing. They were torn, bloodied, and stained with dirt and soot. It matched the rest of her appearance. Her long, dark hair stuck to her neck in clumps and sweat stains shown under her arms.
She'd been in the Chapel when the attacks had come. The doors burst open during service and soldiers poured in, cutting down everyone they could.
Father Ashbury told her to run, to run and help, and then he collapsed. A sword tip protruded from his chest. Matilyn and a few of the other priests barely made it out alive.
"You can't stay," Matilyn said once more. She set her hands on the back of a chair, "Betty, the people who stay, even if they live, they're going to be slaves to Lamonte. They'll make you renounce Arinford and serve them."
"I've thought about that already," Betty said. "It's not as though I have family waiting for me in the other cities, Matilyn. No, I'd rather stay here with my husband, and with Mixie."
Matilyn's fingers tightened on the chair back. "They're dead," she said.
Betty nodded and stood, heading to her oven. "So they are," she agreed. "Both of them died in this house. I don't want to leave them here."
"You'd lose all your friends and risk your life because you're afraid of losing your dead dog and dead husband?" Matilyn couldn't keep the indignation from her voice. It felt so wrong.
"I know how you feel," Betty said. "But I'm just not leaving. That's final."
"You're a coward."
"Maybe I am. But I have a life here. I have my house, and my things, and I'm getting up there in age. I don't have time to start over."
"But you do," Matilyn said, as anticipation sped up her words. She wanted to scream at the other woman, to make her understand, but the words stuck in her throat. She cleared it and repeated herself.
Betty sighed. "The cookies need to cool," she said, removing a tray from the oven, "I'd offer you one, but you'll probably be gone by then. If you're not staying."
Matilyn sighed. Then she heard something in the distance. It sounded like water running. "Is there someone else here, Betty?"
"A young man," Betty said. "I think his name was Chris. He wanted to stay as well."
Matilyn quietly approached the bathroom door, against Betty's protest.
She threw open the door to find a fellow Priest, Chris Montgomery, washing his hands. He'd never looked worse. He seemed startled to see Matilyn there.
"Mattie?"
"Chris," she said with a slight look of confusion, "I can understand Betty, she's not the first I've run into today that wants to stay, but you're a Priest. How can you stay here?"
"They killed my father," he said with a quivering lip. Matilyn's heart sank a little. His father was the mayor of Valishna. "They singled him out and cut him down, Mattie, for no reason. I can't think of why anyone would want to hurt him, but they did."
"I'm so sorry," Matilyn said. She reached out to put a hand on his arm, but he jerked away.
"Then there's the caravans."
"What about the caravans?" Matilyn asked. "What's wrong with the caravans?"
> "Didn't you hear? I thought that's why you were here?"
"No," Matilyn said.
"The soldiers, they're going after the Westwood caravan. They're going to kill everyone there."
Matilyn didn't think she could move for a moment. Then she was running as fast as she could, ignoring the voices that followed. She didn't bother to shut the door, but in some dim, distant part of her brain, she heard it slam shut behind her.
Sean Sweeton felt someone reach out and take his hand. He glanced at the girl standing next to him. She had curly brown hair, grey eyes, and a familiar face. He couldn't quite place where he knew her from though.
When she saw him looking, she blushed and dropped his hand. Sean quickly grabbed hers. "Don't," he whispered.
She gave a shallow nod.
Flames surrounded them. Sean didn't remember how he'd gotten into the house. It must have been through a window. He'd been running, he knew that much. Soldiers encroached and he ran.
These particular flames began in his uncle's bakery and spread quickly to other shops. When the wind picked up, the flames spread even further through the residential district. He hadn't known the house was on fire when he sought refuge inside. The smoke made it difficult to think, difficult to remember. The girl next to him looked scared.
He coughed into his other hand. His eyes felt itchy and his skin hot.
The fire blocked the windows and the doorway. There was no way out. He thought of his sister and uncle, both trapped in the bakery. He should have stayed with them. He should have stayed to help. It would have been a better way to go.
He coughed again, his vision dimming.
"Get down!" The girl yanked on his hand, pulling them both to the floor in a low crouch. Moments later, a ceiling strut collapsed under its own weight, crashing against the wall, only inches above them. In one of the nearby rooms, another fell, and more threatened to join them.
"We have to get out of here," the girl whispered. "Keep low."
Sean nodded, mimicking the girl by flattening himself onto his stomach and keeping one hand over his mouth. When she began to crawl, he followed her. She was going the wrong way though. She wasn't crawling towards the door.
"What are you doing?" he tried to call out, but his voice got lost in the roar of the flames. He tried again, "You're going the wrong way!"
She glanced at him briefly, shook her head and kept moving. Sean glanced back at the fiery pathway to the front door. He swallowed a few times and followed.
A half a minute later, she stopped in front of a large cabinet not yet engulfed in flames. She hesitated, covering her mouth and holding her breath before coming to her feet. Sean copied her, then pressed his mouth near her ear, "What are you doing?"
She yanked open the cabinet and reached out, rifling through the alcohol bottles. She found a couple of clear bottles, Paddington's, and nodded to herself. Pulling him to the floor again, she uncorked open and held it out to Sean. "I know the people who lived here and where they stashed their liquor," she wheezed out. "Cover yourself in this. Face, hair, hands, anything that's exposed."
"Are you crazy?" Sean demanded as he took the bottle, "We're surrounded by fire!"
She opened the second bottle and shook her head, "I don't have time to explain." Another beam from the ceiling crashed down near them, emphasizing her words. She winced and motioned for him to hurry up. "Just trust me."
Sean stared at her as she began to pour its contents over her head and hair, rubbing it into her face, hands, and neck. She saved the last little bit for the tips of her hair, running her fingers through to make sure it got a good coat. Sean hesitated another second but she seemed so deliberate in her movements.
"You have to trust me," she said again. "Please."
For some reason, he did, dumping the potent alcohol into his hand and rubbing it on his face. The smell as terrible, but the smoke was worse. He covered his hands and his hair next, nearly choking on the fumes. He felt like there was at an entire tavern right on his face.
The girl grabbed his hand once more. "Do you see the door?"
Sean nodded. The door itself had fallen of its hinges and he could see to the other side, just barely. A torrent of flame stood in their way.
"On the count of three, we run. Don't stop. When you get out, roll."
"You're crazy," Sean said. "We'll be caught on fire."
"One," she said.
Sean shook his head, "This isn't a good idea."
"Two."
"We're going to burn!"
"Three!"
When she ran, Sean ran with her.
The flames leaped, eating at his clothes. He felt like he was running through an inferno. To his surprise, his hands and face felt a brief, icy chill. It took only a couple of seconds for them to make it to the door, yet it felt like forever with the flames surrounding them, radiating from their skin in an eerie blue glow.
Then there was a wall of fresh air and they dropped to the ground, rolling and patting down the flames on their clothes. The flames were quickly extinguished as both of them gulped in as much air as they could.
The girl looked over at him when they stopped. She was still breathing deeply and coughing every few seconds.
"The flames--" she said, catching a breath, "--they burn the alcohol first."
Sean didn't bother to hide how impressed he was. "You're brilliant."
"No," the girl said, "I'm Janice.
Penelope Belmonte wrung her hands together, worriedly, "Eldrin," she said, "this is terrible. This is just bad."
Sheldon Eldrin put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a small shake, "Penny," he said, "this isn't the time for hysterics."
"Right," Penny said. She took a calming breath, "How's your little sister?"
Eldrin shook his head. His youngest sister, Lucy, had been badly burnt in one of the rampant fires that had been spreading everywhere. "She'll live, but she won't be pretty. There wasn't much I could do with the burns. She's going to need extensive care. They all left with the first caravan."
Penny glanced around at the people gathered near them. "We'll have to leave soon too. We can't keep waiting for stragglers."
"We're not leaving without Matilyn. She's out there somewhere."
Penny sighed. "I know, but we can't just run around looking for her either. She could be anywhere. Valishna is a large city."
"We have to try something," Eldrin said.
Next to them, a tall man with sandy hair cleared his raspy throat, "Matilyn Malevus? I saw her. She was going to the Serse house when I passed her."
"Thank you," Penny said.
He nodded and turned back to the girl he was talking to.
"We have to go get her," Eldrin said. She's going to be killed if she doesn't get out."
Penny sighed again, "You're right. Let's go find her."
Before they'd gotten more than a dozen steps a young man came running in. "The soldiers--" he panted, "--the soldiers are coming."
The boy was right. Within minutes, soldiers charged the caravan, swords drawn. There were loud screams and pleas for help as bodies fell to the ground.
"No!" Penny ran forward, snagging the hand of a little boy a soldier was hovering over. She yanked him out of the way just as the soldier's blade fell. She felt a twist in her ankle, but couldn't stop. Next to her, Eldrin scooped up a girl that was hardly more than a toddler and began to run.
"Help me!" a woman screamed. She laid on the ground, a large gash in her side.
"Eldrin," Penny shouted, pushing the boy into his free arm. "Take him."
He clutched both the children. "Be careful," he told Penny, then turned and fled to safety.
The wound was large and bleeding heavily. Penny tried her best to stop the bleeding with her hands. She tried to focus on finding her Chakran--the inner force of serenity and power of will that all priests wielded. Silence fell, masking the sounds of steel and tearing flesh. She felt the warm glow flow throughout her, moved her hands, rolled up her
sleeves, and placed them above the wound.
Underneath her fingers she could feel the wound knit itself together. It took much of her Chakra to manipulate flesh; Penny felt a sudden drop in adrenaline as she worked to knit the muscle, tendons, and skin back together. The woman let out as low cry even though she knew manipulation was painful.
When the wound was healed enough, Penny rose to her feet and offered an arm out to the woman. She stood, taking the arm. She was still a little shaky, and her face pale from loss of blood.
"I know it hurts, but there isn't anything I can do about that. We have to move."
The woman nodded and together they took off, following the rest of the caravan. The soldiers didn't rush at them, but allowed them to escape. Less than half the caravan had made it out with their lives.
A woman stood next to the one cart that had somehow been saved. Eldrin dropped the two children at her feet. Moments later, Penny helped the other woman lean against the cart.
Penny frowned as she stared at the survivors. Nearly everyone sported some kind of injury. There was a long cut on Eldrin's arm that he didn't seem to notice. Her ankle hurt from where she'd twisted it.
"I'm going to have to stay here," she said. "These people need healers."
"I can't leave Matilyn," Eldrin said. "I know that's selfish, but I can't."
"You'll go faster without me," she said, pointing at her ankle. "Go find her. Find her and bring her back."
The soldier came out of nowhere. One minute, Matilyn was running, and the next she was being pulled to a stop by a Lamonte soldier. She let out a low scream of surprise.
The soldier was heavily armed, but didn't reach for any of his weapons. "We're going to have some fun," he promised.
"Not in your wildest dreams," Matilyn snarled. She tried to use her free hand to punch him, but her knuckles only hit his protective chest guard. "Damn it!"
"That's what I thought," he said, yanking her closer. "You know, I've alway wondered what Arinford Priests wear under their robes."
Matilyn struggled to get loose but it did little good.
"King Sullivan doesn't want us murdering Priests," the soldier said, "but he never said anything about having a little fun."
"You're making a mistake," Matilyn said.
The Warriors of Valishna (Cartharia Book 1) Page 1
