The Warriors of Valishna (Cartharia Book 1)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

"Follow the line," he said again, "You're going to want to make a cup with your hands. Scoop under the fish - don't try to grab it, it'll be too slippery. But once you've cupped under it, toss it to the shore. You have to be quick."

  "Ugh, can't we switch?" Matilyn asked.

  "Not a chance," Eldrin said, "Come on, earn your survivalist badge. It'll break the line soon."

  Matilyn's stomach growled. It was enough incentive for her to follow the line with her fingers further down. When she neared the end, she cupped her hands and slipped them lower. When they connected with the fish, it immediately tried to swim away. She gave a low grunt, following with her hands. The moment they dipped underneath the fish, she tossed it towards the shore, several feet inland.

  "Good job!" Eldrin said. He quickly approached the flopping fish. He snatched it, holding it firmly in one hand. He pulled the hook out first and then placed the fish against a rock. "Give me my knife."

  Matilyn grabbed up the knife, handing it over. She watched as Eldrin gutted the fish.

  "Now we can eat it," Eldrin said.

  "I'm not eating raw fish," Matilyn said. "That's disgusting."

  "It's not like beef," Eldrin said.

  "I'm not eating raw fish," she said once more. "Come on, let's get a fire going."

  Together, they gathered up rocks, making a fire pit. Then Eldrin gathered up dry leaves and twigs, making a nice nest. Matilyn whittled out a hole in a piece of flat bark, before slipping a longer twig into it. They took turns spinning it rapidly till it sparked and the embers spread to the tender, creating a small fire.

  "Now let's just hope soldiers don't see this," Eldrin muttered as he added a few more larger pieces of wood to the fire.

  "Bite your tongue," Matilyn said, placing a large rock right inside next to the flame. She put the fish on top of it, letting it cook. Afterwards, they both picked at the fish, greedily shoving the small meat pieces into their mouths till there was nothing left but the spine and skull. Then they both rolled their robes into pillows, laying down next to each other, the pangs of their stomachs briefly quelled.

  "Mattie," Eldrin said, "we're going to be okay. You know that, right?"

  "Of course," Matilyn said. She stared up at the stars, thinking about Valishna again. "But Eldrin, there are so many people that aren't."

  THREE

  So Fair and War Like

  WILLIAM PARNELL, MORE COMMONLY KNOWN AS WILL, sat quietly in the war room, listening to the argument between his father and his father's warlord.

  "We let them take Valishna," his father, William the third, said. "We can't institute a draft as well. The common folk will be screaming for my head."

  "You're wrong," said Deyneth Delanu. She was an older woman, in her sixties at least, but it didn't show on her face. She looked stronger than ever. Will had only ever known her to be a strict, albeit caring, woman. Her duties as Warlord allowed her to make military decisions for Arinford.

  Of course, Arinford hadn't been to war in a long time. The standing military was a small group of officers that were retired. They'd been called back to duty already, but it didn't bolster their numbers near enough.

  "We had no choice but to allow the attack on Valishna," Deyneth said, "There was nothing to be done."

  "Thousands of people were killed," William said, "They had no warning."

  "If Valishna had been prepared," Deyneth said, "It would have ended the same way. We discussed this. Losing Valishna hurt Arinford, but there was an upside to it."

  "An upside?" William glared at her. "What good came from that attack?"

  Deyneth spread her hands out, "People come together at times of tragedy. This will inspire the populace to take up arms against Lamonte. Patriotism will secure us a good sized military."

  "Then why must we draft?" William asked.

  "Because Lamonte is twice our size, and that's not including the smaller kingdoms that have been taken over by Richard Sullivan," Deyneth said.

  William sighed.

  "At least take the proper time to consider it," Deyneth said, "I believe you'll come to the same conclusion that I've already come upon."

  "I'll think on it," William said, "The council won't like it. Blackwood will be especially against the idea of a draft. He actually suggested we surrender without a fight. To save lives, he said."

  Deyneth's eyes flashed, "You ought to dissolve the council," she said.

  "The council has been around for hundreds of years," William said. "It is tradition."

  "And there hasn't been war in almost the same length of time," Deyneth pointed out. "It is difficult to convince six people of the same thing; especially when people are going to be dying. They're nothing more than glorified figureheads. The power lies in your hands alone."

  William shook his head, "I'm not dissolving the council," he said.

  Deyneth bowed her head, "As you say," she said. "Now, there is the speech you must give on the morrow. Are you prepared for it?"

  "I'm still not sure," William admitted.

  Deyneth nodded, "I thought as much. Listen to me, though. It will make a difference, sending the Priests to fight. They have the experience in leading that we so desperately need."

  "They are holy men," William said.

  "What better message to send to our troops?" Deyneth said, "What better way to inspire our people but to have our leaders of faith declare that they will win us this war? Richard Sullivan will not stand a chance against such a statement. It could increase recruitment ten-fold."

  "Sara hates it," William said.

  "I am not overjoyed at the prospect myself," Deyneth admitted, "But in difficult times, we must make difficult decisions. Are you prepared for that?"

  William sighed, "I suppose I have to be."

  "Then I'll ask again. Are you ready for the speech?"

  "I'm ready," William said.

  Deyneth nodded. "There is also the matter of deployment."

  "I know what you're going to say," William said, "but I belong out there with my men, protecting my kingdom."

  "No," Deyneth said sharply, "You belong here, in the castle, where you are safe from harm. You must be alive in order to direct the war."

  William shook his head, "The men will see me as a coward."

  "No," Deyneth said, "They will understand why you can't ride out with them. You are not a regular soldier, William. Your death would destroy Arinford."

  "If I deploy with my men," William said, "It will show our men and women that I believe we're going to win this war."

  Will suddenly cleared his throat, "I'll go."

  Both Deyneth and William whipped around to face the young prince. He blushed but repeated himself, "I'll go."

  "Fourteen is too young," William said, "We don't take soldiers that young, Will. Not even as officer boys."

  "There's precedent," Will said, "I've been researching the past Arinford wars. My great-grandfather served in the Guard at the age of thirteen."

  William shook his head, "Your mother would have my head if I allowed you to ride to war, Will."

  "I know how to fight," Will said, "I learned from Warlord Delanu."

  He glanced at Deyneth. She was silently appraising him.

  "It's not the same," William said, "Sparring and fighting for your life are two completely different experiences."

  "You rode to the war in Rafix when you were just sixteen," Will said, "I'll be fifteen soon."

  William sighed.

  "Think about it," Will said, "The message you want to send to the troops, that can be accomplished by my deployment."

  "No," William said.

  Deyneth cleared her throat, "It's not a bad idea," she said.

  William glared at her.

  Deyneth met the glare with a long look. Then she turned to Will, "Tell me why you want to ride to war," she said.

  Will considered for a moment. "It's dirty," he finally said, "What Sullivan's doing, it's dirty. The way he came in and attacked our people and instigated this war.
It offends me."

  "So it's revenge you want," Deyneth said, "That's better than glory seeking, I suppose."

  "It's not revenge," Will said. He silently cursed himself for not being able to describe the emotion he felt. "It's just... it's like this giant mess, and someone has to go clean it up." He turned back towards his father, "You say there is no greater honor than serving your King and Kingdom. Let me go with the troops, father. Please."

  William sighed. He glanced over at Deyneth. She gave a shallow nod. "Alright," he said, "Yes, you can deploy, Will. You'll receive no special treatment on the field though. You may be a Prince here, but out there, you're just another soldier. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Will said. "I understand. Thank you, Father."

  "Will," William said, "This is an old friend of mine, and one of Arinford's top battle-masters. I'd like you to meet Contras Rafinnel."

  Will looked at the man his father was introducing him to. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and plenty of muscles. If Will hadn't grown up hearing stories of the man, he might have been intimidated by his sheer size. Instead, he held out a hand. "It's good to finally meet you, Battle-Master Rafinnel."

  Rafinnel shook his hand, "And it is good to see you again, Prince William. You were but a babe in your mother's arms the last I saw you."

  Will smiled. "My father speaks very highly of you, sir, and the way you fought in Rafix."

  "Well," Rafinnel said, "You can't believe everything your father says. He's been known to exaggerate on more than one occasion."

  William laughed, "Too true," he said. "Now, Contras, I know you were enjoying your quiet little retirement, but I need you back on the field. I want you leading the southern offensive division."

  Rafinnel's smile faded, "I should have known," he said, "The moment I heard about Valishna, I suspected you'd ask me to come back to active service."

  "I'm not asking," William said pointedly.

  "Then I am yours to command," Rafinnel said, "Will there be a draft?"

  "Not yet," William said. "We'll get out first tier of soldiers from recruitment. There are plenty out there screaming for Richard Sullivan's head. Later on, when it becomes more difficult, we'll draft then."

  Rafinnel nodded.

  "There's something else," William said, "The Warlord has suggested that I make a point of recruiting Priests for officer positions in the Guard."

  "Priests?" Rafinnel blinked. "Why would you recruit them as officers? They'd do better as battle-medics, if they feel the need to go at all."

  "We don't have very many capable men ready for war," William said, "And we have even fewer officers. The Priests train for eight years. Their well versed as leaders and most of them have combat experience."

  "Most of them have experience handling drunk men who beat their wives," Rafinnel corrected, "That's a long ways away from the battlefield, William."

  William sighed, "I know it," he said, "But we don't have many other options. They understand the chain-of-command, at least."

  "Putting our holy men out to fight though..." Rafinnel looked skeptical.

  "They'll learn the different forms of flesh manipulation," William said, "They can already heal. It's hardly any different than offensive fighting. It also gives us an advantage over Lamonte. They don't train their priests in manipulation."

  "I suppose," Rafinnel said, "But I can't say that I like it."

  "You don't have to like it," William said, "The Gods know I don't. I don't like any of this. We've had peace for a long time, and now, on my watch, Arinford is going to war. People are going to die. It's not a good feeling, having blood on your hands."

  "We'll stop him," Rafinnel said.

  William nodded, "I know we will," he said.

  Will cleared his throat a little.

  "Oh right, there's one other matter," William said. "Will will be riding with your troops."

  Rafinnel glanced at him again, "How old are you?"

  "Nearly fifteen," Will said.

  Rafinnel looked back to William, "Are you sure about this? The offensive post is going to have a lot of combat, William."

  "I know it," William said, "But there's no other place for him, Contras. I don't trust anyone else with his life."

  "I don't like having his life in my hands," Rafinnel admitted. "Forgive me, but I don't want that responsibility."

  "Once again," William said, "It's not a request, Rafinnel. You'll keep him safe. I know it."

  Rafinnel looked back at the prince. "Do you wish to fight or serve as an officers' boy?"

  Will considered for a moment. "I want to fight," he said, "But perhaps the best way for me to learn combat would be to serve as your officers' boy first."

  Rafinnel nodded, "Good answer," he said. "Are you scared?"

  The question made Will think again. Finally, he nodded.

  "Good," Rafinnel said, "You should be scared. We're going into a war zone and I want to make sure you understand the implications of that. It's going to be long, hard road. You could die out there. Are you ready for that?"

  Will nodded.

  "Then you can serve under me," Rafinnel said. "You have a lot of your father in you, that I can see."

  Will blushed. It was true that he looked a lot like his father; he had the same dark hair and the same grey eyes. He was handsome despite of his youth--or perhaps because of it. "Thank you," he said, "I won't let you down, sir."

  "No," Rafinnel said, "No, I don't think you will."

  FOUR

  So Young and so Untender

  BY THE TIME THAT MATILYN AND ELDRIN arrived in Westwood,they were both tired and hungry again. They'd managed to catch two more fish before their line snapped and their hook was lost. Luckily, Matilyn had found a bush of fresh berries and they'd gathered enough to keep them going.

  It had still been a five day walk with the detour through the forest. Matilyn had blistered on the bottom of her feet and knew Eldrin must too.

  Once the gates had been opened to let them in the city, Matilyn felt a wave of relief sweep through her. A small, illogical part of her brain had tried to convince her that the city would lock them out since they didn't arrive with the caravan.

  "Wow," Eldrin said, looking around. The city was nearly the same size as Valishna, but there were usually far fewer people. Valishna was a port city and home to many travelers and tourists, and Westwood was a simple farming city.

  Now though, the streets had been overrun with people. Matilyn saw people from Valishna mingled with the Westwood citizens. It looked as though some people from the nearby fishing villages had come to the town as well.

  "What now?" Matilyn whispered to Eldrin.

  "Over there," Eldrin said, standing on his toes to see further. "Look, there's Penny."

  Matilyn followed his gaze. She smiled when she saw the tell-tale red hair and the tall stance of the other woman. "Come on," she said, "Let's go."

  Eldrin nodded, cupping his hands around his mouth as they moved, "Penny! Hey! Penny!"

  As they got closer to her, Penny turned to see them. She immediately moved away from the person she was talking to and broke into a run. Eldrin stepped up to meet her, picking her up and spinning her around.

  Penny laughed and hugged him tightly before turning to Matilyn, "Thank the Gods. Matilyn, I thought you were dead. Thank gods you're here."

  "I know," Matilyn said, "We just got a little..."

  "Lost," Eldrin admitted. Matilyn smirked.

  Penny grabbed Matilyn, pulling her into a tight embrace, "Well, you're here now," she whispered, "I was so worried."

  Matilyn rested her head against Penny's neck for a moment, breathing in deeply. Then she pulled back a little bit so they could kiss. For a moment, the world disappeared and nothing else mattered but the taste of Penny's lips and the smell of her hair, and the feel of her body crushed against her own.

  Eldrin cleared his throat.

  "Sorry," Penny said with a laugh, pushing Matilyn away. They linked hands.

>   "So tell us what's going on here," Eldrin said.

  "Well, you're running late," Penny said, "We just got here two days ago. There are tents and bedding set up in all the inner city fields. You have to put your name on a room request for the empty rooms people are offering up. There's hotels and stuff too. Till then, I've found a place in the park that makes a nice spot."

  "What about food?" Matilyn asked. "Anything but fish."

  Penny led them around the corner and down the street, "Part of the park has been set up as a temporary food shelter. Three times a day you can come get food. It's just potatoes and rice and bread for the most part. Better than nothing, though."

  "That sounds wonderful," Matilyn admitted. Eldrin nodded his agreement.

  Before they reached the park, a woman stopped them. She was friendly looking and holding a stack of papers, "Are you new? We've seen an influx of travelers and I don't recognize any of you."

  "No," Penny said, "I've been here since the caravan arrival. These two are new though," she nodded at Matilyn and Eldrin.

  The woman turned to smile at the two, "I want your names, if you don't mind," she said, "I'll add you to the room lottery and check and see if you have any family listed in the city."

  "Sheldon Eldrin," Eldrin volunteered.

  "Matilyn Malevus," Matilyn said.

  The woman started to scribble their names down but Penny quickly interrupted her, "Actually, can you add Matilyn's name to my room request?"

  The woman glanced between them and then added a notation next to Matilyn's name, "Of course. You're...?"

  "Penelope Belmonte."

  "Alright," the woman said, "if you have any injuries, please check in at the infirmary."

  "Actually," Matilyn said, "We're Priests, all of us."

  The woman's friendly smiled turned into a full-fledged beam of pleasure, "Good good," she said, "We need more Priests. We're a little short-staffed at the moment. We'd sent a lot of our men and woman to the capital for a seminar and they've yet to return. We had no idea this would happen, of course... but there are plenty of injured coming in."

  "We'll check in after we eat," Matilyn promised.