The Warriors of Valishna (Cartharia Book 1)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  Matilyn considered this for a moment before nodding, "It's a good idea," she said. She turned back to Serin, "You're going with the scouts."

  Serin nodded.

  "I'll go write something up," Matilyn said. She headed over to her tent to get a parchment and some ink. She quickly wrote up a report of who they were, the size of their troops, and their intentions of approaching. She rolled it into a scroll afterwards and used an Arinford ring to seal it closed.

  "There you go," Matilyn said, handing the scroll to Serin. She looked at the other scouts gathered around him, "Be careful," she told them. "They might not believe you're Arinford, even if you're flying the colors. Go in and surrender so they don't attack."

  The scouts nodded.

  "We'll be behind you," Matilyn said. She looked out over the troops. Sean and Janice had started telling the men the plan. Everyone was starting to pack up the camp. She'd never seen it done so quickly--she knew how much the men wanted to get to the post. It would be a great relief for many to be able to send letters home to their families and let the world know they were still alive.

  Matilyn wondered if Penny thought she was dead. She'd thought of her a lot over the last few weeks. Penny would have gotten the news about Eldrin already. There was nothing she could do about it, no comfort she could offer.

  She forced herself to put it out of her mind while she went to pack up her own supplies. She still had the letter from Penny, and the ones from her father. She placed these carefully into her pack, alongside her other supplies. She stood after, stretching. With a sigh, she began to put on her armor.

  It felt heavier than usual as she buckled the chest piece in place, and slid on her gauntlets. There were days when she really hated wearing the full gear. It had saved her life more than once already though, Matilyn couldn't deny that. The last thing she wanted was another arrow to the chest.

  Once everyone was ready, Matilyn took her place at the front of the troops to lead them out. Sean and Janice fell in beside her.

  "Are you excited?" Janice asked.

  "For the post?" Matilyn nodded, "I am. The men need this."

  "So do you," Janice said, "Your father and Penelope are probably worried sick by now."

  "I know," Matilyn said.

  Janice gave a small smile, "I keep thinking about my brother," she admitted, "He's too young to even understand what's going on, really."

  Sean shook his head, "No, he's not. Children aren't as young as they once were."

  Janice considered this and sighed, "I guess they're not," she agreed. "So he probably thinks I'm dead. My mother too. My father, if he's heard anything."

  "Just wait till you hear from them," Sean said, "They're going to be so excited and happy. Your brother especially. He'll probably do that squeaky thing that you like."

  Janice frowned, "How do you know about that?"

  Sean sneaked a hand up to his amulet, frowning as well, "You must have told me," he said, "We've talked so much."

  "I guess," Janice said.

  Matilyn smiled at the conversation. Sometimes it was easy to forget she still had friends in the troops. Sometimes it was hard to believe that one of those friends was Janice.

  "Speaking of things we've talked about," Sean said, "I wanted to tell you. It's not your fault."

  "What's not my fault?" Matilyn asked.

  "Sheldon dying," Sean said.

  Matilyn scowled.

  "I know you don't like talking about it, or thinking about it," Sean said, "But I think it's important. I told Sheldon that too, and he didn't listen to me, and now he's gone. I won't make the mistake of ignoring someone again. I think you need to realize it's not your fault what happened."

  "Sure it was," Matilyn said, "I was his best friend. How could I fail to keep him safe?"

  "Eldrin was always good at taking care of himself," Janice said, "He wouldn't have wanted you to blame yourself."

  Sean nodded.

  "We fought the last time we talked," Matilyn said, "I was so angry at him. I am so angry at him."

  "I know," Sean said, "and that's the other thing. You can't hold onto your anger, Matilyn. It won't do you any good in the end to stay mad."

  Matilyn sighed. "I know," she said. She felt a little ashamed but she couldn't help but feel just a little angry at the turn the conversation had taken. She didn't want to talk about Eldrin. Sean was right about that much. "Let's just focus on getting where we're going, alright?"

  Sean sighed. "Alright."

  Hours later, when they neared the post, a scout rode out to lead them the rest of the way in. Matilyn greeted the unfamiliar face with a cordial smile and forced pleasantries.

  The post was larger than she expected; it was larger than the northern post had been, and noisier.

  A tall, dark haired woman was waiting to greet them. "Lieutenant Alice Cori. But just Cori please," she said, extending a hand to Matilyn, "And you must be Lieutenant Malevus."

  Matilyn took the hand, giving a firm shake, "That's correct."

  "We've heard tales about you here," Cori said, "It's an honor to finally meet you. Welcome to the Southern Forward Post."

  "Thank you," Matilyn said. She led her men up the path into the camp. It looked even more expansive once they'd entered, with thousands of tents set up, and hundreds of men moving around within the confines. Matilyn felt a wave of relief sweep through her; it felt like she was coming home after being lost for a long time.

  "Your men can set up camp over there," Cori said, gesturing to an area that was not yet occupied. "There's food, I'm sure they're hungry... will you eat with me? The other lieutenants will not return till tomorrow morning."

  "Yes," Matilyn said. She turned to Sean, "Have the men set up camp where Lieutenant Cori suggested."

  "I'll send a soldier over to show you where food is," Cori promised Sean.

  Sean nodded his thanks. "I appreciate it."

  Cori nodded and turned back to Matilyn, "Over here," she said, leading her over to a meal table. Matilyn felt her stomach growl and helped herself to a bowl of cooked rice. She followed Cori over to one of the logs that had been brought into the camp for the men and sat down.

  "Where have you been for the last few weeks?" Cori asked, "We thought for sure you were dead."

  "No," Matilyn said, "We were hiding... and then we were lost. Lamonte soldiers kept trying to follow us but we lost them when the storm came."

  Cori nodded.

  "We had to take out a unit that attacked us before we started this direction though," Matilyn said, "They were twice our number but fresh recruits."

  "Young?" Cori asked.

  Matilyn nodded, "So you know there's teenagers fighting in the war."

  "I know about it," Cori said, "We have run into our fair share of young troops. It is unfortunate that we must treat them as if we would any other soldier. They are too young to die."

  "I know," Matilyn said, "They can't even properly fight. We didn't lose a man fighting them. It should have felt like a victory but I think it only disheartened my men to know how easily they killed children. Most of them have kids at home, or younger siblings. It's hard."

  Cori nodded.

  Matilyn took a bite of the rice, going silent for a moment as she ate.

  "You lost a lot of good men at the northern forward post," Cori said.

  "We did," Matilyn said.

  "We lost a lot of good men here too," Cori confided.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Matilyn said. "But it looks like your numbers are still strong."

  "They are," Cori said, "But it is not enough. We need more to crush the Black King. It is good that you arrived. Your men are a necessary bolster to the troops. It will be good for morale too, to know that you survived when everyone thought you dead."

  Matilyn nodded, "It's good for my men to be here," she told the other woman, "I believe some were beginning to lose faith. Being here, seeing how large this camp is, knowing how close to Sullivan we are, it gives them heart once more
."

  Cori nodded, "We have letters, meant for your men."

  "That'll cheer some up," Matilyn said, "I'm sorry. I don't recognize your accent."

  "You would not," Cori said, "I am not from Arinford. I come from Lamonte."

  Matilyn paused in her next bite and eyed the other woman skeptically, "You came from Lamonte."

  "Not all who live in Lamonte support Richard Sullivan," Cori said, "He is a tyrannical leader who places power above peace and terrorizes families that do not support his ideals."

  "I wish everyone felt that way," Matilyn said, "We've come up against a few Arinford defects. I don't understand it."

  "Sullivan has a way of making you feel like he's right," Cori said, "It's a perception thing. I don't know. People want to believe in his vision, in his goals, and so they do. They forget the horrible things he's done when he's preaching his words to them. I've seen men change their mind on the spot, just from seeing his face."

  "It's disgusting," Matilyn said.

  Cori nodded, "It is," she agreed, "But it is one of the things we will fight. Let us not dwell on the Black King tonight. Battle-Master Rafinnel will be pleased to hear that you made it. I will report to him when we're done here."

  "Rafinnel is here?" Matilyn said.

  "He is," Cori said slowly, "But he's not in the best of shape. He was brought in wounded and we've been unable to heal him."

  "Is it poison?" Matilyn asked, "I was shot with a poison that wouldn't allow me to heal. I had to recover from an arrow wound naturally."

  Cori shook her head, "Perhaps," she said, "But if it is, it is not the same one that Arinford is using. Our antidotes do nothing. He must recover naturally as well, and his wound was not a small one."

  "What of the Prince?" Matilyn asked.

  Cori shook her head again, lowering her eyes.

  "He's dead?" Matilyn set down her food, appetite gone.

  "He was lost in one of the battles," Cori said, "They did not recover his body, so there is hope. But the hope is only a small glimmer."

  Matilyn winced.

  "Again, let us not talk about such things tonight," Cori said, "There will be time enough tomorrow for reports of all the fallen and of all the trouble we still must go through. Tonight, eat, and rest."

  "I think I'm done for now," Matilyn said, glancing briefly at the half-finished bowl of rice.

  "Then rest," Cori said.

  Matilyn nodded, rising back to her feet. Cori took the bowl of rice and gestured over toward Matilyn's men. "Tomorrow morning, I will introduce you to the other officer that are here. Will that work for you?"

  "Yes," Matilyn said.

  Cori nodded, and snapped off a salute.

  Matilyn returned it with a smile.

  The next morning, Matilyn awoke to the smell of coffee. She came out of her tent to see Sean holding two thermoses. He offered one out to her. She took it gratefully, "Thank you."

  "Of course," Sean said, "Did you rest well?"

  "Better than I have in a while," Matilyn admitted. "It's something about being here. It just feels... better, doesn't it?"

  Sean nodded, "The rest of the men feel the same way," he said, "Like coming home."

  "What?" Matilyn demanded.

  "Nothing," Sean said. He touched his amulet again, thoughtfully, "Did you hear that Rafinnel is here?"

  "I've heard," Matilyn said.

  "He requested to see you," Sean said, "You were still asleep, so I took the message. You are to head to the medical tents where he's at, at your earliest opportunity."

  Matilyn took a sip of coffee.

  "Will you go alone?" Sean asked.

  "No," Matilyn said, "Where would I be without my Executor?"

  Sean offered a smile in return for the comment.

  "I suppose there's no time like the present," Matilyn said. She took another sip of her coffee and yawned.

  "You don't want to eat first?" Sean asked.

  "No," Matilyn said, "I'm not hungry just yet and I'd rather not leave the battle-master waiting."

  Sean nodded, "Let's go then."

  Together they made their way through the camp. Matilyn looked around, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sheer volume of soldiers present. She felt a little foolish thinking of her small charge and their plans to kill Richard Sullivan.

  The medical tents were guarded by several soldiers and a medic with a hard smile. She reminded Matilyn of the medic who'd tended her back at the southern forward post. The thought made her grimace. That woman hadn't survived the attack.

  "Are you here to see the Battle-Master?" the woman asked.

  "Yes," Matilyn said. She offered out a hand, "Lieutenant Matilyn Malevus, and this is my Executor, Sean Sweeton."

  She shook Matilyn's hand first and then Sean's. "The Battle-Master is through this tent," she said, "But I know how long he'll be lucid. You might want to make your visit quick."

  "We'll try," Matilyn said. She beckoned to Sean and then ducked inside the tent the woman had gestured to. It was lit by a few candles. Rafinnel sat in a makeshift bed, covered in warm hides. The sight of him made Matilyn draw in a quick breath of surprise. She heard Sean do the same beside her.

  He looked shrunken somehow. His skin hung in folds where he'd obviously lost too much weight. His skin was dry and his lips looked chapped. His face and body seemed bruised. There were tight bandages wound around his chest and stomach.

  "Not pretty, am I?" Rafinnel rasped out.

  "Sir," Matilyn said, stepping forward and saluting. Sean did the same. "It's an honor to finally meet you, sir."

  Rafinnel returned the salute, though it seemed to cause him pain just to lift his arm that high. He coughed afterwards and then looked at Matilyn. "So you're Malevus."

  "Yes sir," Matilyn said.

  "I've heard a lot about you," Rafinnel said, "I was surprised to hear you were alive. But I should have realized--you're a survivor."

  Matilyn said nothing to this.

  "Your men are starting to become larger than they are, what with the tales being told. You stole ships from Lamonte in the dead of night," Rafinnel said.

  "They were superstitious unit," Matilyn said, "We scared them with thoughts of ghosts. Otherwise, they would have never been lured away from their main camp."

  "You survived the attack on the Northern Post," Rafinnel said.

  "Hardly," Matilyn said, "We lost a lot of men. A lot of officers. We were crushed."

  Rafinnel eyed her, "You survived while Lamonte hunted you."

  "The storm had more to do with that than me," Matilyn said, "They couldn't track us once the snow started to fall. I think they were just as unprepared for it as we were. Besides, we got lost."

  "Is it true that you fought a charge of recruits and didn't lose a man?" Rafinnel asked.

  Matilyn lowered her eyes, "They were little more than children."

  Rafinnel waved his hand and then reached over for his water glass, "Stop making excuses for the things you've done," he said. He picked up the glass but his hand was trembling so badly that the water nearly sloshed out. Sean moved to Rafinnel's side, steadying it for him. The battle-master eyed Sean for a moment and then took a sip.

  "I'm going back to Arinford," Rafinnel said.

  "Sir?"

  "I'm going home," Rafinnel repeated, "Back to the capitol where I can help the king with war plans. In my condition, I can't help lead the men here. The troops need an officer they can rally under that can ride with them to battle."

  Matilyn nodded, "I understand, sir."

  "Do you?" Rafinnel asked, "Because I'm talking about you, Malevus."

  "No sir," Matilyn said, "There must be a dozen lieutenants here."

  "More than that, but none of them are qualified to lead the men," Rafinnel said, "The commander stationed here--the other Amaris brother--was killed. I want you to take his place."

  "It's too much," Matilyn said.

  Rafinnel glared at her, "That's not your decision to make," he reminded he
r, "I am your commanding officer. If I order you to take a promotion, you'll take it, gods be damned."

  Matilyn wanted to argue but Rafinnel started to cough again. It had a wet, thick sound to it that she didn't like. Eventually she nodded. "Yes sir."

  "I have no stomach for priests fighting," Rafinnel said, "I still don't, even after hearing all of that. I believe you're on the wrong side of right, Malevus, but I won't deny you're a good officer."

  "Thank you, sir," Matilyn said. She felt numb with shock.

  "They say you call your men the Lost Brigade," Rafinnel said.

  "We came to kill Sullivan, sir," Matilyn said.

  "A division is different," Rafinnel said, "The Lost Division is different. But you must do what you say. You must kill Sullivan."

  "Yes sir," Matilyn said.

  "You must," Rafinnel said. There was a sudden edge to his voice, "You must stop him, Malevus. This is important. Listen to me."

  Matilyn took a hesitant step closer.

  Rafinnel reached forward with a sudden speed that Matilyn could not have predicted, grabbing the front of her uniform. He pulled her close, "The Black King has our prince. We must get him back."

  Matilyn looked over at Sean. So far he'd been standing silently but she could see the worry in his eyes.

  "The prince?" Matilyn asked. She felt a small spark of terror at the idea of what Sullivan would do the boy.

  "We need him safe," Rafinnel said. His voice began to border on panic, "Without the prince, all is lost. We must kill the black king, and you must return the prince."

  "I will," Matilyn said, trying to reassure him.

  Rafinnel's voice rose with intensity, "We are lost without him. The prince. We must have the prince."

  Before Matilyn could say more, the medic from earlier rushed into the tent, "you need to leave now," she told Matilyn and Sean.

  Matilyn nodded as Rafinnel released her shirt. She backed away, "Is he alright?"

  "The infection gives him spikes of fever," the medic said, feeling his head, "He doesn't stay lucid for very long. He'll sleep soon. You should leave him to rest."

  "Of course," Matilyn said. She nodded to Sean and they made haste to the exit of the tent.

  Before they could leave, Rafinnel shouted out in that same raspy voice, "Find him, Malevus! Save him!"