The Warriors of Valishna (Cartharia Book 1)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  Will didn't know why he was still alive or why Sullivan had yet to take him into audience. The only thing he could come up with was that the Black King was trying to use him as some sort of bargaining chip in the war. Perhaps he was hoping that King William would surrender in hopes of saving his only son.

  Will had spent the last two days praying to the Gods that his father would ignore any offers. He kept seeing Rafinnel's body, sword plunged through his back.

  As much as he hated the prison, he wanted nothing more than for his father to crush Sullivan's men, take his head and mount it high on his wall, and keep it there till rotted, and maggots would come to eat away his eyes, and flies would land upon his lips, and birds would feast upon his brain.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Thy Fierce Sister

  SULLIVAN GLANCED THROUGH ANOTHER FINANCIAL REPORT AND let out a low sigh. He ran a hand over his face and looked over at Eric.

  "We need more gold," he said, "I want to begin opening orphanages and we can't afford it."

  "Orphanages, sir?"

  "Orphanages, safe houses, they're all the same," Sullivan said. He waved a dismissive hand, "A place for children who've lost their parents to the war. They need a safe environment. We don't have the gold though."

  Eric said nothing.

  "I suppose you think it's another wasted expense, like teaching for our immigrants," Sullivan said.

  "Sir, I think it's admirable," Eric said, "It is clear you care for your people. It's just difficult to try and budget around such generosity. The war against Arinford is not cheap."

  Sullivan sighed, "I know that," he said, "I know. But do you know how I grew up, Daniels?"

  Eric shook his head.

  "I was a servant to a prince," Sullivan said, "and everyday, I would see how unjust and unbalanced the world was. Those without a little luck on their side were kept downtrodden by the wealthy. It's an unfair world we live in and I wanted to change that, even as a child."

  "Change doesn't start out large," Sullivan said, "it starts out small. Learning to read can change a man's life, yet it's such a small act, something so insignificant that it can hardly be counted as important. But what will that man go on to do? That's the question we must ask ourselves.

  "And when we ask ourselves what that man will do, now that the world is open to him, we must ask ourselves what the children of those soldiers will do. If given an opportunity to flourish, what will they do? They need homes, and they need help. It is not an option."

  Eric clasped his hands behind his back, "I understand, sir."

  "Do you?" Sullivan asked. "Sometimes I feel as though nobody in the world understands the changes I'm trying to make, how I'm trying to bring equality and opportunity to everyone."

  "I understand your vision, sir," Eric said.

  "We need to figure out a way to get the gold," Sullivan said.

  "Sir?"

  "For the orphanages," Sullivan said, irritated, "Have you not been listening? We need to figure out a way to raise enough gold in our coffers to provide homes for the children left alone by the war. They need us."

  "Perhaps," Eric suggested, speaking slowly, "Perhaps some sort of fundraiser event."

  "There's not enough gold in our nobility, even if they donated more," Sullivan said.

  "No," Eric agreed, "We're woefully short on gold, but there are other options, sir. You speak of opportunity and sharing your views. Share with the villages throughout the kingdom. Ask them to rise together and provide the aide you seek. Tell them how the children suffer and allow the people a chance to remedy that."

  "Carpenters can build houses at cost," Eric said, "and the owners of taverns and restaurants can provide free food. Volunteers can teach the children, and love them. With the right encouragement, it could cost the kingdom nothing."

  Sullivan considered this for a time, "I don't have the time," he finally said.

  "Then I will go in your stead," Eric said, "I will speak to people as your warlord. I will make them understand your vision."

  "Do not fail," Sullivan cautioned.

  Eric nodded once more, and offered a high salute, "No, sir, I won't."

  "Father," Catherine said, "I don't think you understand. The girl was messing in the kennels. She ought to be reprimanded. It's dangerous."

  Sullivan stared at his daughter. He knew he didn't spend enough time with her, but he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment when they spoke. She was nothing like him.

  "You were with her," Sullivan said, "Were you not?"

  Catherine's eyes flashed angrily, "Where did you hear that?" she demanded.

  "It matters little where I heard it," Sullivan said, "It matters that you are lying to me, Catherine, and again. What did the girl do that is so reprehensible that you felt the need to drag her to the kennels and frighten her half to death?"

  "I wasn't trying to frighten her," Catherine said.

  "And now you come to me, trying to get her in further trouble," Sullivan said, "Isn't that right, Catherine? What has gotten into you?"

  Catherine scowled. Sullivan sighed. "Is it the war?" he asked, "Am I spending too much time on that and not enough time with you? Catherine, I know it is not an easy time right now, but it is a necessary one. I thought you supported my ambitions for Cartharia."

  "Of course I do," Catherine said, "You deserve to rule. You're going to have great power someday, father."

  "It isn't about power," Sullivan reminded her.

  Catherine shrugged, "Whether it is, or it isn't, you're going to have it."

  "And so will you," Sullivan said, "Someday, you'll be queen of Lamonte, and then what? Is this how you'll treat your subjects? Will you frighten them and then lie about them? Catherine, your decisions do not speak kindly of you. Tell me why you did it. Honestly, now."

  "I was angry," Catherine said.

  "Angry about what?" Sullivan asked.

  "About my mother," Catherine burst out. She looked close to tears, "My mother killed herself. Instead of staying here with me, she killed herself. I could have handled that, but everyone in the castle seems to think I'm nothing like her. They speak of her kindness, her gentleness, how sweet she was."

  "Then they say it's difficult to believe I'm her daughter," Catherine said, "They're saying I'm cruel, father."

  "And you only prove it when you act in this fashion," Sullivan said, "This isn't about your mother, Catherine. I know you better than that. You're upset because I would not overrule Father Greene's decision to teach you how to heal."

  Catherine was silent. All signs of tears had vanished. She looked angry now, and insolent, "He had no right to refuse the crown princess."

  "He had every right," Sullivan said, "and until you learn that, you're going to be unhappy. Now, I want you to go to the kitchens and help them prepare dinner."

  "I'm not a servant," Catherine said.

  "No," Sullivan agreed, "But it certainly wouldn't hurt you to learn some humility. Go, Catherine."

  Catherine scowled but stood, stalking out of the room. Sullivan let out a sigh. Not for the first time, he realized how much he missed his wife. Perhaps if she'd kept her sanity and stayed alive, she'd have been better able to handle Catherine. Sullivan only knew that he needed to figure out how to reach out to her before it was too late.

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts on the matter. He sighed, "Come in."

  A willowy boy of eleven opened the door. He was trembling in fright.

  "What is it?" Sullivan asked, "You look terrified."

  "No, no, sir," the boy stuttered out, "No, sir. I brought you correspondence, that's all, sir." He offered out a scroll with a sealed wax ring. "I was told to bring it to you immediately."

  "Well, come give it to me," Sullivan said.

  "Yes, your majesty," the boy muttered, hurrying forward. He tripped and nearly sprawled on the floor. Sullivan bit back a smile.

  "You seem nervous," he said, "Can you tell me your name?"

  "
Liam," the boy said.

  "Why are you so nervous, Liam?" Sullivan asked.

  "Because you're the king," Liam said. His eyes widened and his breath faltered just a little.

  "And does that make me frightening/" Sullivan asked.

  Liam nodded.

  Sullivan considered, "Well, I am the king," he agreed, "But my first name is Richard. Did you know that?"

  Liam shook his head.

  "Perhaps it would help if you used my first name instead." Sullivan suggested.

  "Okay," the boy said.

  "Now give me my mail," Sullivan said, "I appreciate you bringing it to me."

  "Yes si--Richard," Liam said. He handed over the scroll.

  "Are you from the castle?" Sullivan asked, "I haven't seen you before."

  "I was sent here by Warlord Daniels, sir," the boy admitted, "My parents were both killed in the war. He wanted me somewhere safe."

  Sullivan bit back another smile. He was glad to hear that Eric was taking the plight of orphaned children seriously. Still, if he sent everyone of them to the castle, they'd soon be overrun.

  "And you were put to work," Sullivan said.

  Liam nodded, "Yes, sir. Richard, I mean. I was put to work delivering reports and mail, sir. Because I'm quick, and I don't take my time."

  Sullivan nodded, "Well, thank you, Liam. It's been a pleasure to meet you. Why don't you go down to the kitchens and get yourself a snack?"

  "Yes sir!" Liam said, excited by the prospect of extra food, "Thank you, sir! I mean, Richard."

  Sullivan watched him go, his smile fading. He glanced down at the report in his hand. It had the Terifille royal seal embossed on it. He broke the seal and opened the letter.

  Richard, it read, I have thought long and hard about the proposition you made when you last visited my home. I know this will come as a great shock to you, but I have decided it is not quite the right time for Terifille to enter into a war. Undoubtedly, aligning ourselves with Lamonte would do just that. My people are only beginning to recover and I must put them first. My heart and well wishes go out to you, and I wish you the greatest success.

  Signed,

  King Lee Sanders of Terifille

  Sullivan stared at the words for a long time. Then he slowly crumpled up the paper in one hand, resisting the urge to throw it across the room. He was grateful now that he'd sent Liam away before reading the message. He'd never felt so angry in his life.

  Penny frowned at Joanna as the woman ducked into the Penance room in the back of the Chapel. She'd never seen her at service. Seeing her in the backroom now was almost surreal. Joanna looked like her normal self; she was a pretty woman with dark hair and large brown eyes. But she was rigid. As usual.

  It had been quite some time since Penny's talk with Kenneth. Since then, he'd stopped asking her to sit in on their meetings or trying to involve her in the resistance. She knew he'd moved most of the meetings to the Remmus household.

  Since the meetings were in the evening, it meant that she ate most of her meals alone. Sometimes her estate manager would join her. Thomas was a kind man, but he was an employee and it was difficult to forget that when they dined together.

  Part of Penny blamed Joanna for the distance. Kenneth had sworn there was nothing going on between them any longer, and Penny believed him. He was a good man, after all. They might not be in a traditional marriage but she was certain that he respected his vow of fidelity.

  But Penny also knew he couldn't just turn his feelings off for the other woman, and she knew they worked together every day. She imagined how hard it must be. Sometimes she would lay awake at night and imagine that she and Matilyn had to work together, every day, but they weren't allowed to touch, or kiss, or care for one another.

  She wanted Joanna to go away. She didn't want Kenneth, not like she wanted Matilyn, but she didn't want to be alone either. Every meal was a reminder that she was. Every meal was a chance to dislike Joanna and blame her a little more.

  "What do you want?" Penny asked now. She stood, dusting her hands together.

  "I need to speak with you," Joanna said, taking a seat, "About Kenneth."

  Penny sighed. She was forced to return to her seat. She narrowed her eyes at Joanna, "of course you do. What is now?"

  "Go to him," Joanna said, "and tell him you've realized how stupid and selfish you've been and then join the resistance. Be a wife to him, support him, and help us. We need him fully dedicated and we need you."

  "You don't need me," Penny said.

  "Yes," Joanna said. "I don't like it, and I don't like you, but we need you, Penny. We don't have any priests. What happens if one of is hurt? You can talk to people too. We need someone with your skills and position."

  Penny shook her head again. "I can't," she said, "I told that to Kenneth already. Do I need to explain myself to you as well, Joanna?"

  "No," Joanna said, "I've heard your excuses. Get over yourself, Penny. We're doing something good here. Something better than one person, or one ideal. Something bigger."

  Penny shook her head again, "People are out there, risking their lives, practically throwing them away, and for what? So you can feel better about yourselves before you go to sleep each night? No. No, I like my life. I like being alive. I like my family being alive."

  "You could help us," Joanna repeated. She was beginning to sound like a broken record.

  "No," Penny said, "and I told Kenneth to stop involving me. It's been months. If I didn't join at the start, what makes you think I would change my mind now?"

  Joanna stood up, "I don't know," she admitted, "I guess I thought you might have had enough time to start caring about someone besides yourself."

  "Well, it turns out you were wrong," Penny said, "I assume you can show yourself out?"

  Joanna shook her head, rose to her feet, and strode out. Penny watched her leave, and then covered her face with her hands. She knew Joanna was right. That was the worst part. Sh knew the other woman spoke the truth.

  But it didn't matter. The truth didn't make it any safer for her, or her husband, or for his friends. No matter how much she could offer the resistance, in the end, they'd still be throwing their lives away. Penny might be selfish, but she certainly wasn't stupid.

  Catherine walked alongside her friend, Emily De Vanther. They'd been friends since childhood. Emily was a pretty girl, a year younger than Catherine, and a daughter to one of the King's personal guards.

  They'd spent the day shopping. They'd bought enough purchases that the guards had been forced to take the packages back to the Princess's carriage. There were dresses, shoes, petticoats, more dresses, and hair pieces.

  Catherine knew how much Emily liked to shop.

  "So tell me about the boy you've been seeing," she invited, dropping her voice to a conspirator's whisper. Her eyes sparkled.

  Emily looked over, blushing, but smiling, "He's ever so sweet, Catherine. You'd like him. He's tall and handsome and he's a good kisser. He tells me the most beautiful stories about the most faraway lands."

  "I like this land," Catherine said.

  "Oh, I do too," Emily said quickly, "but he tells of them as though they're magical. He's been to them, of course, when he was younger. That's what he tells me, anyway."

  Catherine smiled, "Of course, dear. Of course he does. What is this young paramour's name? I'd love to know who my dearest friend finds so enchanting."

  Emily blushed again and then whispered the name into Catherine's ear, "Garrett. He's the son of the warden. His father is a brute though, a drunk brute. Nothing like Garrett, he's practically a prince."

  "How lovely," Catherine said. She kept her face as cool as before. "That's quite lovely, Emily. I'm sure that you two are quite the couple."

  "I think I might love him," Emily admitted. "It's funny, we've only been together for a few months. He was scared at first; he kept saying we had to keep it quiet. I think he was worried about the relationship that he'd been in before. From what I'd heard, the girl was
an absolute terror. But he's so sweet that I can't help but love him."

  Catherine smiled at the other girl, "And do you think he loves you too?"

  "I think so," Emily admitted. "I think he does, Catherine! Isn't that splendid?"

  Very," Catherine said. She was quiet for a few minutes as they walked. When they stopped again, it was on the outside of a dress shop. She gestured at the beautiful, ivory dress inside, "Don't you think that would look pretty on you, Emily?"

  Emily looked at the ivory dress. She blushed, "That's not the sort of dress I'd wear, Catherine. That's for weddings."

  "Perhaps you and your dashing prince will marry soon enough," Catherine said. "Come on, let's go inside."

  "Oh no," Emily said, her face turning a lovely shade of pink, "I don't want to look at it, Catherine. You know that I could never afford something so beautiful."

  Catherine looked at the dress a moment longer and then sighed, "Perhaps not," she agreed. "Come, let us continue."

  They walked for a few more blocks, and then stopped on the outside of a bakery where food and drinks were prepared. Catherine ordered Emily a sundae that she could eat while they walked. Emily had tried to refuse but Catherine had insisted that she accept it. She knew how much Emily loved ice cream.

  They'd gone less than a block when Emily tripped, nearly falling on her face. Catherine moved forward to steady her. "Are you alright, Emily?"

  "I'm fine," Emily said, "I'm fine, Catherine. I tripped over something and --" she looked back and frowned. There was nothing on the street. The ground was smooth. She shook her head. "It must have been my own feet. I'm so clumsy sometimes."

  "That's quite alright," Catherine said. She offered the other girl a smile, and patted her arm. "Come, let's continue."

  The shopping lasted into the long hours of the afternoon till both girls were too hot and exhausted to continue. Catherine led the way back to the carriage.

  When she arrived, she paused. Her fingers slipped down into her purse, and she frantically looked around, "My mother's bracelet," she said, "Where is it?"