The Warriors of Valishna (Cartharia Book 1)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  "It's so they can keep score," Matilyn said bitterly. "They want to know how many officers they killed. They just combust the men instead of... instead of burning them, so they can count. When they, when they think they're going to win--"

  She trailed off, unsure why she was even speaking.

  "I'm sorry," Sean said.

  Matilyn felt the air leave her lungs.

  When she moved forward, she felt as though she were wading through water, every step a harsh push through a turbulent tide. Matilyn came to a stop in front of the jacket and knelt down, trying to ignore the charred flesh beneath it. The smell made her want to gag.

  The cuffs on the jacket were burnt and it was covered in ash and soot. She thought she could see some pieces of fine, blonde hair. That was too much and Matilyn had to look away for a moment as her stomach reeled and twisted. She put a hand over her mouth, forcing herself not to be sick in front of all the gathered troops. When she counted to thirty, she turned her attention back to the jacket.

  Nobody spoke as Matilyn turned the pockets inside out. A few objects fell out; a folded letter, a couple of first aide items, a comb, a flask, and his Arinford dog tags.

  She didn't want to believe it but the truth was right there in her hands. Sheldon Eldrin was dead.

  TWENTY

  To their Dear Shelter, Take Thee

  MATILYN GATHERED THE REMAINING TROOPS UP, TAKING count of those alive and those injured. Their numbers had been sorely diminished. She sighed. The day wasn't going to get any easier.

  "We have to leave," she said.

  There were several cries of protest. Matilyn held up a hand to forestall them, "Lamonte knows where we're at," she said, "and it's not going to be long before they realized we survived their initial assault. They're going to send men in to finish the job. We have to move while we still can."

  "With all due respect, Lieutenant," Tommy said, "We've just suffered great losses and a number of us are injured. Moving in this condition could prove critical as well."

  "That's a risk we'll have to take," Matilyn said, "I'm sorry. I know it sounds harsh, but we're faced with a hard reality. Lamonte knows where we're at."

  "They know we're here," she said, "and they're going to come for us. We don't have the men to defend the post, and we don't have enough men to survive another attack. It might prove critical to move, but it will prove fatal to stay. If we stay, we die. That's the truth."

  "I know we're tired," she said, her eyes sweeping the remaining soldiers, "and I know we're injured, in more ways than one. But we cannot forfeit any more of our lives if we have the chance to do otherwise. Last night we lost a lot of good men--and we lost a lot of officers. Most of the Charges were destroyed."

  She looked over at Tommy, "We found the body of Commander Amaris," she said, speaking directly to him now, "The 8th Brigade is dead." She thought of Eldrin. "Redhorn is dead," she said, "Bluerock is dead."

  She expected more of a protest but none came. There was a thick silence that called for something more, "The Northern Forward Post was a collection of talented, diverse Charges, but we can longer afford to fight under multiple officers and under multiple commands. We must fight together. We must fight as one.

  "We are the soldiers that have lost everything. Our homes were attacked without provocation. We defend ourselves, and we are shown no mercy. We fight back, and we're slaughtered in the dead of night. Lamonte doesn't fight fair, and from this moment, neither shall we."

  She paused for a moment and then said, "Lamonte fights under a single man. They worship his banner and follow his command. The Black King! He would enslave us or see us rot in the ground!"

  "What happened last night was a tragedy," Matilyn said, her voice dropping back down, "It would be easy for us to dwell on this, to lose ourselves in the grief for what we have lost. But we cannot. We must use that grief to drive ourselves forward.

  "Our original orders, all of our orders, were to come to Lamonte and fight the Lamonte troops in their home state, even as they fight in ours. I say no more. I say we go straight for the source. We cut the head off the serpent."

  Matilyn narrowed her eyes at the crowd, daring them to argue. None did. "We are a new Brigade--the Lost Brigade, and we have one mission. We are going to kill Richard Sullivan!"

  The next few days passed in a flurry of activity and movement for the members of the Lost Brigade. Tommy Frederick and most of the severely injured soldiers sailed back to Arinford aboard the stolen Lamonte ships. He took a report with him alongside the tags of the fallen soldiers. It had been difficult for Matilyn to say goodbye to him, but it was difficult for her to say goodbye to anyone. Every depressed face was a reminder that they'd been taken by surprise. The comfortable camaraderie that had cloaked the camp was now vanished.

  The soldiers staying in Lamonte followed Matilyn out of the northern forward post and into the unknown territory of Lamonte. They had maps detailing the information about the other military bases set up throughout Lamonte. Their plan was to head to the southern forward post and join the Battle-Master's division since the 8th Brigade was lost.

  Unfortunately for the weary travelers, a new problem arose. The weather, which had been sunny so far, predictable even, had taken a turn for the worse. Lamonte had it's share of winter states, but the cold was worse than any they'd been in. Unexpected storms were not precedented in Cartharia and none of them were prepared for it.

  The snow fell in large sheets, causing problems with walking, and hunting. The temperature fell below the freezing point, and more than one person developed hypothermia. Frost bite spread throughout the camp, faster than yellow fever. Soon people were complaining of loss of feeling in their extremities.

  With a sort of desperate resolve, Matilyn led the troops into a large cave where the storm could be waited out. It wasn't marked on their maps, but in the freak storms, they'd gotten off-course. Nobody knew quite where they were. The cave offered some protection, though it was still cold, and the wind still kept them up at night, howling it's lonely lullaby.

  They narrowly avoided detection on many occasions by the Lamonte soldiers hunting for them. The cave became something of a safe haven for the men, a place that they could briefly call home. It soon became clear, though, that the storms were there to say. Days turned to weeks and they still kept inside.

  It was a time for rest and recovery but it soon became more. With the cold weather and memories of their dead brethren to keep them company, it became a time of transformation. Grief hardened into anger, and anger hardened into resolve, and soon the united voice of the Lost Brigade could only speak one thing:

  Kill Richard Sullivan.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Honour's Bound

  "FATHER WANTS ME TO MARRY A SOLDIER," Penny complained to Robert. "Can you imagine? A soldier. I mean, how dare he even suggest it. I even told him about Matilyn. It didn't matter to him. Not at all. Robert, are you even listening?"

  "Sort of," Robert said. "Okay, not really. I was thinking about the baby. Isn't she precious?"

  Penny sighed, "She is," she agreed. She thought of her niece and couldn't help but smile. The baby had been born healthy and decent-sized. Penny had never been a huge fan of infants, but she'd immediately fallen in love with the child. Robert and Erin had named the baby Jocelyn. It was a good name, with a nice solid ring to it.

  "Anyway," Robert said, "Father isn't going to actually marry you off to a soldier. You should know that."

  "He keeps threatening to," Penny said, "He even pulled the nobility card. He said if he wanted to, he could make me marry whomever he wanted."

  "Well then," Robert said, "We're going to have to come up with a solution, aren't we?"

  Penny sighed, stretching, "Like what?"

  "You marry someone else," Robert said.

  Penny scowled, "I'm being serious," she snapped at him.

  "So am I," Robert said, "Think about it, Pen. If you were married to someone else, anyone else, how can father make you
marry a soldier? There's no breaking of vows allowed anywhere in Cartharia, Valishna included. He'd have to respect that. You know that."

  "I do know that," Penny said, "and I know that I've already said the vows. I said them to Matilyn. In the eyes of the Gods, we're married, Robert."

  "Well nobody believes that," Robert said, "No, don't look at me like that, you know it's true. It's not my fault. I believe you. But everyone else think you're saying it to get out of a marriage."

  "I don't care what they think," Penny said.

  "Well you should," Robert said, running a hand over his face.

  "Why?" Penny demanded, "I stopped caring about mother and father's opinions years ago, and I could care even less for that of the soldiers."

  "They can make your life a living hell," Robert said, "I don't want you to be hurt, Pen."

  "Peter Sterling has ordered the men to leave me and the Chapel alone," Penny said.

  "And that will only last so long," Robert said, "You know that too. You've heard of the beatings and the rapes, and the murders. Is Peter Sterling stopping all of those?"

  "He's trying," Penny said, lowering her eyes. Of course she'd heard of them. She, and the few Priests she'd wrangled into helping her run the Chapel's healing room, had to deal with them on a daily basis. It was a terrible thing, to see a child injured, or a man beaten so badly he couldn't walk.

  Robert nodded, "He's trying," he agreed, "But it's not enough, and it won't be enough to keep the soldiers from turning on you. That's why father wants you to marry one. If you don't want to do that, then you have to do something else. You have to give them a real reason why you can't, and that reason can be marriage.

  "Just pretend you didn't say the words with Matilyn, marry someone else, and you don't have to worry about father forcing your hand," Robert said.

  Penny glowered at him for a moment before sighing, "Who would I even marry on such a short notice?"

  "Kenneth Arris," Robert said immediately.

  "Kenneth?" Penny repeated. "Why Kenneth?"

  "Because father would approve that union," Robert said, "he's been trying to marry you two off for years. It'll be good for the business arrangement between him and Kenneth's father."

  Penny made a disgruntled sound her throat.

  "I've already thought it through," Robert said, "It'll be a good match. Everyone involved will be happy with it."

  "Except me," Penny said, "And presumably Kenneth."

  "Kenneth's already agreed," Robert said.

  "Why would he agree to an arranged marriage?" Penny asked. "We've never gotten on that well."

  "Because I asked him to, and we've been best friends since we were knee high," Robert said, "and because his parents will approve of the match, and it'll keep him from having to marry someone he doesn't like as well."

  "I don't know," Penny said.

  "Well, decide soon," Robert said, "Because Kenneth's not going to wait forever."

  The engagement was one of the shortest that Valishna had seen in a long time. It barely made it three weeks while preparations were made. Penny was certain people were whispering about her, wondering if she was pregnant.

  The invitation list was long. Penny's father had only conditionally approved the engagement with the agreement that the event be one of prestige and class. The Belmonte and Arris families were both amongst the wealthiest of Valishna and it made little sense that their children would have a small wedding.

  Many soldiers attended, unable to turn down the chance for celebration and liquor. It disgusted Penny, but she held her tongue.

  Peter Sterling attended, dressed in his finest military garb. He kissed one of her hands and wished her the best. "There aren't many things to celebrate in war," he said, "But love is certainly one of them."

  She'd held her tongue then too.

  The wedding, after much deliberation, was held at neither the Belmonte nor Arris estate. Instead, despite Penny's complaints, it was held in the courtyard of Kenneth's new home. The estate had been purchased as a gift from Penny's father. It was outfitted with staff to meet her every need.

  In typical custom of Arinford nobility, no expense had been spared, no detail left forgotten. Despite the poverty that had stricken Valishna, there were still enough people who knew how to make a wedding spectacular. While hurried, it was still the most beautiful event that Penny had ever attended.

  And she was the center of it.

  The dress she wore had been designed and sewn in only two weeks, but several seamstresses had worked on it and it was no less elegant than one that would have taken months. It was a formal, brilliant white ball gown with several layers of shimmering lace that were intricately weaved through the material. There were fabricated white roses sewn into the bodice, and the modest neckline in the front was accentuated by a finely crafted ruby necklace.

  Selina, her soon to be mother in law, had spent hours curling and styling her hair so it hung in soft, red waves against her back and shoulders. She'd been outfitted in long, lace gloves and then sat primly for the tedious amounts of makeup that was then applied. Her lashes were lengthened, cheeks made rosy, eyes accented, and color brought to her lips.

  Penny wanted to feel excitement at the wedding; it was more than she'd ever dreamt of as a child, but she couldn't bring herself to see it as her own. She felt like an interloper in another's life. Throughout the preparations, she could only think of Matilyn. Matilyn in her bed, Matilyn murmuring the words.

  When she was escorted to the center of the courtyard by her mother and father, the full impact of what was happening hit her. Part of her wanted to run screaming. Yet Kenneth approached from the other side of the wedding circle, flanked by his parents. He looked tall and handsome in the white robes worn by Arinford men.

  When they both reached courtyard center, the parents all took seats in the crowd. Penny and Kenneth were left alone with the officiating Priest, forming a triangle.

  "We are here to witness the binding of Penelope Belmonte to Kenneth Arris, and of Kenneth Arris to Penelope Belmonte," the priest began, turning in all directions so he could address the entire audience. Penny met Kenneth's eyes and saw the same nervousness reflected back in his own expression.

  "Kenneth Arris," the Priest said, "You stand before the Gods on this day, asking to be united with Penelope Belmonte. It is an oath that cannot be broken, a tie that cannot be cut. Do you enter this union with an open heart and a free will?"

  Kenneth bowed his head, "I do."

  The Priest turned back to Penny, repeating the words, "You stand before the Gods, on this day, asking to be united with Kenneth Arris. It is an oath that cannot be broken, a tie that cannot be cut. Do you enter this union with an open heart and a free will?"

  Penny opened her mouth, but no words came out. There was stirring in the crowd and a few murmurs. She felt tears forming just behind her eyes. It felt so wrong. Her eyes fell on the engagement ring Kenneth had found her. She silently compared it to the silver promise ring she still kept. Matilyn had left, though. Matilyn was gone.

  "I do."

  "With these words, before the Gods, let you be united," the Priest said. Penny and Kenneth reached forward, each placing one hand flat against the others.

  The Priest took out the first of the ribbons, looping it around their hands, "This is for trust," he said. "Do you promise to trust each other?"

  "We do," they said in unison.

  "This is for honesty," he said, wrapping the next of the ribbons, "Do you promise to be honest with each other?"

  "We do."

  "This ribbon," he said, tying a third to their wrists to bind them together, "Is for loyalty. Do you promise to remain loyal to each other?"

  Penny saw Kenneth hesitate this time. She wondered, briefly, if he'd had a love as well. "We do," she said, speaking for both of them this time.

  The Priest pulled out a fourth ribbon, "A ribbon for commitment," he said, "And do you promise to remain committed to each other through the years?
"

  "We do," they said.

  "And a ribbon for friendship," the Priest said, setting a fifth one atop their wrists, "Do you promise to remain friends throughout your marriage?"

  "We do."

  "And finally," the Priest said, "We have a ribbon for love. Do you promise to love each other, as if you are two parts of the same whole?"

  They stared at each other for a long time. Both of them seemed unable to speak. Penny ran her tongue over her bottom lip, knowing fully well what she was committing to. She saw in Kenneth's expression that he did as well. She swallowed, meeting his gaze. It wasn't what she wanted, but for a moment, just a tiny moment, she allowed her to enjoy herself, at her wedding, and hoped that Kenneth could do the same.

  "We do."

  The festivities lasted well into the night. There was singing, dancing, and drinking. At one point, fireworks were lit above Penny and Kenneth's heads as they drank from the same goblet, symbolizing their union.

  Penny had her chance to dance with nearly every male at the reception. Some were alright; her brother, her father-in-law, and even Peter Sterling, who couldn't have been happier for her. There were the other men though, that ruined those moments. She'd never had so many soldiers leer at her chest in one evening.

  It was easy to put out of her head though, when she was spun round the dance floor by Kenneth beneath the glowing torches that lit the courtyard as the sun went down. Despite his nervousness, he was a decent dancer and she enjoyed the feeling of hands around her waist.

  There were occasional moments throughout the evening where she caught herself laughing at joke he'd made and considering the idea that she might someday come to actually care for him as one did for their significant other.

  "I wonder how long everyone is going to stay," Kenneth said, as he handed Penny a flute of champagne. The Arinford tradition was for the reception to last long into the night. Then the guests would depart, leaving the newly weds to spend their first night together.