The Warriors of Valishna (Cartharia Book 1)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  Despite his anger at the other kingdom, Sullivan knew the truth of Eric's words. He let out a long sigh, "I suppose it's worth considering," he finally agreed.

  Eric let out a sigh of relief.

  "Now," Sullivan said, "Go see that the boy is healed. I have a dinner to attend."

  Will looked up at the sound of footsteps. He prepared himself for the usual drenching that came daily. He shivered in advance at the thought. He thought he might be catching a cold from all the water.

  Instead, a voice echoed in the semi-darkness, "Prince William Parnell. How grand to finally make your acquaintance."

  A light flickered briefly and suddenly the entire cell was light with light. Will cringed back. He'd become accustomed to the darkness and the bright light hurt his eyes. He'd started to believe he'd never see light again. It had been months since he'd been out of the darkness.

  The man speaking was tall but quite ordinary. He had his hands clasped behind his back.

  "Sullivan," Will asked hesitantly.

  "That's right," the man said with a chuckle, "Not as scary as you imagined, right?"

  "You've never scared me," Will said, trying to sound brave. He didn't feel brave though. He felt like a small child. There were rats in the cells, and he hated rats. He'd cried himself to sleep more nights than he could admit. Seeing Sullivan reminded him of the last rat he saw; it had been huge and ugly and it had stolen his bread.

  Sullivan shook his head, "There's no need for lies between us, young William. I've done nothing to harm you, have I?"

  "You keep me locked up here," Will said, gesturing around the cell. He hoped Sullivan couldn't hear the waiver in his voice, "You're keeping me prisoner."

  "A misunderstanding, I assure you," Sullivan said after a brief pause, "I asked my Warlord--Eric Daniels, I believe you've met him--to treat you as a guest here. I asked you that you be treated kindly. I told him to make sure you had food, water, and a daily bath to make sure you were comfortable. I can see now that he misunderstood my intentions."

  "You wouldn't blame one man for another's failures, would you?" Sullivan asked.

  Will knew better than to believe Sullivan but he couldn't think of what to say, so he kept silent.

  "In fact," Sullivan said, "I've been busy, very busy. I just heard of your conditions down here and I came as soon as I could, so I could rectify this situation. I want you returned home happily and safely, of course."

  "You're going to let me go?" Willa asked. He was ashamed at how eager and hopeful he sounded.

  Sullivan smiled, "You're not a prisoner here, William. I've no doubt that you've been worried of just that--what with the misunderstanding of my men and all,--but you are no prisoner. I don't take teenage boys captive in my home. I have nothing against you."

  "Your men were looking for me on the battlefield," Will said.

  "So they were," Sullivan said, "Unfortunately in a war, innocent people are bound to get hurt. I don't want that any more than your father does. I have great respect for him, you know. I merely asked my men to keep an eye out for you, to make sure you were uninjured. I didn't want you to get hurt."

  Will still didn't believe him but the words seemed to come automatically to him, "So you'll let me leave?"

  "Well," Sullivan said, spreading his hands, "I can't just let you walk out of here, William. It would be extremely unsafe. My men might attack you without my knowledge. Or you might get lost on your way back home. Lamonte is dangerous this time of year and it is now my responsibility to see to your safety."

  "Of course," Will said, disgusted.

  Sullivan smiled softly, "Don't sound so disappointed, my boy. As I said, you're a guest here. I've come to let you out of this cell and to offer you one of my more luxurious rooms in the castle. At least until we're able to return you home safely. How does that sound? Would you like that, my Prince?"

  Will hesitated a long moment before nodding. He wanted to spit in Sullivan's face and refuse any offer, but he kept thinking of the rat. He hated rats.

  "Somewhere a little cleaner perhaps," Sullivan said in a lower voice, "You'd like that, sure. Who wouldn't?"

  "Right," Will said, "Who wouldn't?" His head felt a little dizzy. He thought about the rat again. He couldn't get it out of his head.

  Sullivan stepped over to the cell door, fishing a key ring from his belt. He selected a large one and opened the door. "If you'd follow me, William, I know you're going to enjoy your stay in my home."

  Will hesitated and then followed Sullivan out of the cell.

  Will sat back in his chair, his stomach pleasantly content. The feast and been laid out by the time Will had finished the long, hot bath that Sullivan had ordered drawn up. The water had felt wonderful and he'd taken his time, letting some of his anxiety drain away with the dirt and grime.

  The feast had been one to rival those at his father's castle. There had been a dozen different meats prepared, potatoes cooked in everywhere imaginable, hot bread, soft butter, vegetable dishes that Will had never heard of, and platter after platter of sweet desserts.

  During the meal, Sullivan had broached no subject of his beliefs or the war at all. He'd told stories instead, talking about the various matriarchs that had once ruled Lamonte, tales of fisherman and noble boys, and stories of his own teenage years which included several nearly inappropriate escapades with maidens fair.

  Despite his reservations, Will had been unable to stop himself from enjoying the meal and the king's company. He'd often caught himself laughing at one story or another. His worries had seemed to have fled.

  Catherine was present during the meal. Will couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her. She was an attractive girl, not much older than he was. She was an avid conversationalist but didn't seem to have much patience for her father's stories. Often she'd lean forward, touching Will's arm and warning him not to believe a word her father said. She'd wink after that and then lean back to share a laugh with her father.

  Their interaction made Will long for home and for his own family.

  "Ah, another wonderful meal," Sullivan said, leaning back, his eyes twinkling, "I hope you enjoyed it?"

  "Of course," Will said, "Everything was delicious, thank you. I hope you will pass along my appreciation to your cooks."

  Sullivan chucked, "Your mother certainly made sure you learned your manners, William. I'm glad to see it. The youth these days, many of them have no gratitude for others' hard work."

  Will simply nodded.

  "At any rate," Sullivan stood suddenly, gesturing for Will to do the same, "Shall I show you to your chambers? I'ms are you'd love to get a good nights' rest after that meal. I know I certainly do. Unless... you're not tired just yet?"

  Will betrayed himself by yawning. Color filled his cheeks. "It has been a rather long day," he admitted, not knowing how else to respond.

  "Indeed it has," Sullivan said, "Follow me. I'll escort you there myself."

  Will turned to Catherine first, "Good night, Princess Catherine. It was a pleasure making your acquaintance."

  Catherine gave him a wide-eyed, breathless look that nearly made his knees melt, "Good night, Prince William. I do hope you'll dine with us again soon."

  Falling in behind Sullivan, Will glanced around the castle as they made their way down a corridor. It was a beautiful estate with grand pillars, intricate stonework, and expensive decor.

  "Do you like my home?" Sullivan asked.

  "It is lovely, "Will admitted, "You have exquisite taste. My mother would love your choice of paintings. She's something of an art fanatic."

  Sullivan nodded and then stepped up to a door, opening it. He extended an arm towards the room, "Your chambers, Prince William."

  Will glanced inside. His jaw nearly dropped in surprise. The room was large, spacious, and well-lit. The floor was a thick, red carpet to match the velvet drapes that covered the wall-sized window. There was a tall, wooden armoire with small, delicate designs. The door were open, revealing a large wardrob
e. Even from a distance, Will could tell the clothing was his size.

  The plush, four-poster bed was what caught his eye the most. It was large enough for a king and looked incredibly soft. After sleeping on the hard floor of his cell for so long, nothing had looked so beautiful. Other than Lady Catherine, perhaps.

  Atop the sheet were two young women, both dressed in only the bare essentials, both incredibly pretty.

  "As my guest here," Sullivan said, "I thought It appropriate that you have servants at your command. These two hand-maidens will be happy to assist you with anything you might need while staying here."

  One of the girls nodded. The other slid off the bed, performing a mock curtsey, flashing quite a bit of skin in the process.

  Will forced himself to look away, "Thank you. You've been more than generous."

  "Of course," Sullivan said, "Please, make yourself comfortable."

  Will nodded and stepped into the room. Before he could get any further, Sullivan held up an arm to stop him, "Actually, before you sleep, there's one thing I thought you might help me with before you retire."

  "What's that?" Will asked.

  "You've seen what a generous host I can be," Sullivan said, "You've seen for yourself that I'm not the sort of monster hiding beneath children's bed that I've been made out to be. Your father is a wise man but I fear he listens to too many rumors. I thought perhaps you might write him, tell him of the manner of host I've been. Urge him to accept my requests for a meeting so we might end this war peacefully. I only wish for peace."

  Will frowned, "He won't listen to me."

  Sullivan shook his head, "Surely the words of his son will sway him. If not, well, they are the words of a Prince. You have the ability to influence Arinford, William. You can end this war if you'd like. Consider that."

  "You want me to end the war," Will said, "I don't understand how I can do that."

  "People will listen to what you have to say about me," Sullivan said. "You can speak of how I treated you, how generous I've been, what a good time you're having in my home."

  Will shook his head, understanding suddenly dawning on him, "No." He took a step backwards, "I can't do that. I won't influence my peoples' beliefs and steal their morale in exchange for a decent meal. I won't."

  Sullivan's expression slipped for a moment in surprise and he looked terrifying. A moment later, his gentle smile was back in place. "I was afraid you might say that, Prince William. I won't try to convince you, but perhaps you'll change your mind of your own accord. You'll at least take a few days to consider the idea, I'm sure. Nothing wrong with that, right?"

  "Right," Will said slowly.

  Sullivan turned, gesturing at two guards that had been waiting in the corridor, "Men, please escort Prince William back to his previous accommodations."

  Will frowned as the men came up, each one taking an arm, "I thought I was a guest here."

  "You are," Sullivan assured him, "A very special, important guest. I can't guarantee your safety here, what with the war still ongoing, William. If you were to write to your father perhaps... but alas. The way things are now, I can't say for sure how my men will react to your presence. As you know, some have already acted of their own accord. It would be remiss of me to actually disregard your safety. No no. Your previous accommodations are best. Nobody can get in to hurt you there."

  He paused, his teeth flashing in a wide smile, "No person for that matter."

  Will immediately thought of the rat, squeezing through the bars of the cell. He thought he might be ill from all the food he'd stuffed himself with.

  "But, my Prince, have no worry. It's for your protection," Sullivan said, "I'm sure you understand that."

  Will understood. He didn't like it, but he certainly understood the situation.

  Catherine thought about Will as she left the dining halls. There had been something about the young prince that caught her eye. She couldn't stop thinking about him, his face, his voice, his expressions. They seemed so familiar.

  She'd never dreamed before but she thought if she had, it would have been of Will.

  "Catherine, wait."

  Catherine stopped when she heard her name. She turned to see Garrett standing there. She'd almost forgotten what he looked like, it had been so long since she'd thought about him. He looked skinnier somehow, and not nearly as handsome as she'd once thought. She compared him to the young prince, who'd laughed so delightfully at dinner.

  She wondered if Will had known what her father was up to. She'd known, of course, but it had been a fun little charade nonetheless. "What do you want?" she said to Garrett.

  "You took Emily," Garrett said.

  It took Catherine a moment to realize what he was talking about. She'd nearly forgotten about the girl down in the cells, "Oh. That. Yes, well, she stole from me."

  "Don't do this, Catherine," Garrett said, "We both know you're just trying to punish me for ending things with you."

  "As if I care about that," Catherine said, "I've found someone better." She thought of Will again. She was planning to go see him soon. She thought of the head guard and how she would have to convince him to let her down below. It had been easier when Garrett had been able to steal the key. Her smile faded somewhat.

  Garrett shook her head, "If you don't care about it, then let her go."

  "I told you," Catherine said, "She stole from me. I cannot allow that to go unpunished. She must pay for her crimes, same as any other would."

  "Please, Catherine," Garrett said.

  Catherine sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was deal with Garrett and his whining. "Can't you see that I'm busy, Garrett? I don't have time for this."

  She started to turn away but Garrett reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her to a stop. Catherine turned to glare at him, "Don't you touch me."

  "Let her go," Garrett said, "Please, Catherine, I'm begging you. She's not a part of what happened between us, and she's one of your oldest friends."

  "You could have had anyone," Catherine said, "And yet you chose my friend. Why is that?"

  "I didn't mean for it to happen," Garrett said, "She didn't even know there was something between us. I met her, and things just sort of happened. I wasn't trying to hurt you, if that's what you're thinking. I swear to the gods, I wasn't. It just happened."

  Catherine shook her head, "I don't care, Garrett. Aren't you listening?"

  "She's innocent," Garrett said.

  "She's guilty," Catherine snapped, "I wonder what other crimes she's committed. Perhaps I'll start digging around, trying to find out."

  "You're a cruel girl," Garrett said, "You know what? I'm glad I ended things with you."

  "And now do you regret it?" Catherine asked. "I told you that you would. You didn't believe me, but now you do. I may be cruel, but I follow through on my word."

  Garrett released her arm. "I'm begging you," he finally said. "Please, Catherine. I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you want, just let Emily go."

  Catherine pretended to consider for a moment. Then she smiled sweetly and turned away. "No."

  THIRTY-THREE

  Thou Art Twice her Love

  MATILYN APPROACHED CORI AS SHE ATE OUTSIDE her tent. "Lieutenant Cori."

  Cori lifted a hand to her forehead in a small salute. She smiled at Matilyn, "Commander Malevus."

  "Do you mind if I join you?" Matilyn asked.

  "No," Cori said, "In fact, I'd welcome your company."

  Matilyn nodded, taking a seat beside the other woman. She was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then she cleared her throat. "I wanted to apologize."

  Cori shook her head, "There is no need for that. What happened, well, it happened. There is nothing to be done to change it. I am not looking for an apology."

  "Still," Matilyn said, "I owe you one. I am your commanding officer and what happened between us--"

  "--Was perfectly natural," Cori said, "You are the commanding officer of everyone in this camp, and inner relationships form
. Your Executor shares a tent more often than not with Captain Akins. That is hardly appropriate either but I do not see them offering each other apologies."

  Matilyn laughed. She couldn't help herself. "Fair enough," she said, "Fair enough. Fine, at least let me apologize about the way I left things. When I woke up..."

  She trailed off.

  "You were dreaming," Cori supplied, "Do not deny it. I saw you muttering in your sleep. What was it?"

  Matilyn's smile faded. She thought about lying but didn't, "I was fighting on Lamonte's behalf," she settled for.

  Cori leaned back, surprised.

  "I know," Matilyn said. "It's impossible, but that's what it was. I've never dreamt before. It felt so real."

  Cori reached over and took her hand, "It will be fine," she said. "Everything will work out. I do not believe you would betray our cause."

  "I wouldn't," Matilyn agreed. She let out a sigh and then briefly leaned against the other woman before straightening back up, 'Tell me about you. I hardly know anything."

  "You know I am from Lamonte," Cori said.

  "Yes," Matilyn agreed, "But that's it. That's all I know. You're from Lamonte. I'm from Arinford. But there's more than that. Tell me about your family, about your life before the war. Before Richard Sullivan."

  Cori was silent for a time while she thought about it. "It was difficult," she said, "I grew up in a family with four siblings. We were poor--most people in the town I'm from were--so it was hard to survive at times. My father tried to grow crops but the climate did not support it. Then he tried fishing, but there are so many other fishermen in Lamonte. It was nearly impossible for him to make real coin at it."

  "My mother worked as a baker," Cori said, "She worked from morning till night, and my sisters helped her. My brother helped my father with fishing. Every day, it was a struggle. Often times, we would finish the day by eating fish and burnt bread. What would not sell, that is what we ate."