The Warriors of Valishna (Cartharia Book 1)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  "Four, I want you to get a hide from the pack," Eldrin said, "Pick out a strong one. We don't want her breaking through. She's light weight but choose carefully anyway."

  Four nodded and slipped off his pack.

  Eldrin felt Six's pulse again. It was weak but there. He carefully lifted the bandage over her chest. It was soaked in sticky red blood. He winced and began to unwrap it.

  "What are you doing?" Three demanded.

  "She ripped the stitches when she fell," Eldrin said. "I need to repair them before she can move. This is going to take about an hour."

  Three pursed her lips and said nothing.

  "Why don't you find some rawhide strips?" Eldrin said, looking back at her. "Four strong ones. You and Eight can braid three small ones together to make the strong one."

  "Are you giving me orders?" Three asked, eyebrows shooting up.

  "I'm telling you what needs to be done," Eldrin said. He finished unwrapping he bandage, exposing the wound. As he'd expected, a stitch had ripped out. The wound also had a sider-web of red veins shooting out from it that looked bad. Yellow pus formed at the wounds.

  "That looks bad," Two said, watching from above Eldrin. She didn't look too good herself but she still looked better than the girl on the ground.

  Eldrin nodded. "She has an infection. I was hoping it wouldn't get this bad, but it apparently has. I don't have the medicine to treat it. She's going to last a few days at the most."

  Two frowned. She was quiet for a moment, watching Eldrin repair the stitches. "I have something that might help."

  "What's that?" Eldrin asked, raising his eyes to her briefly.

  "We carry poison," Two said, "It rots your body from the inside out. It's painful and very deadly. We also carry leaves that will draw the poison out and leave you alive. In case we ever need to question someone."

  Eldrin considered, "It's worth a try," he said, "Do you have any on you?"

  Two nodded. She fumbled with her belt pouch and came up with a few dark colored leaves. She hesitated before handing them to Eldrin. "You have to chew them."

  "I figured as much," Eldrin said, holding out a hand impatiently, "It's fine. I'm used to the bad taste of medicine."

  Two nodded, handing over the leaves, "It's not only that. They're a drug. People used to take them for the high feeling they got. They make you rather talkative, relaxed. Open."

  Eldrin sighed and shook his head. He popped the leaves into his mouth and chewed. When he'd spat them back into his hand, he grimaced. "It doesn't matter." He pressed them into the wound on Six's chest and wrapped her bandage again.

  By the time Seven and Five returned with the poles, Eldrin felt the effects of the drug sink in. He knew it would've been stronger had he eaten it, but he still felt a strange sense of giddiness. His eyes felt large.

  Forcing himself to focus, he directed the group to tie each end corner of the hide to the poles, creating a makeshift stretcher. He had Six lifted and placed on it, and then Five, Seven, Eight, and Four each took a corner and resumed their walk.

  Eldrin walked alongside Four, swapping out every so often with the stretcher carrying duty.

  "You were telling me about the girl you threw mud at," Four reminded him at one point. The night was late, and quiet, and everyone had fallen silent.

  Eldrin nodded. He felt more comfortable talking now. He knew that was the drug, but he didn't mind. "We went to school together," he explained, "and we became the best of friends. We were inseparable. In the back of my mind, I always thought of those blue ribbons in her hair. I knew how intelligent she was, how determined..."

  "One day, she came to me, eyes shining, and told me she was going to join the Priesthood. In Arinford, Priests don't continue schooling with other students. I knew right then if she joined, I'd lose her. And I couldn't. So I joined as well. My parents didn't mind. I thought my dad would, but he was just proud."

  "So you became a Priest," Four said.

  "Yeah," Eldrin said, "Eight long years of training to end up here."

  "You got the girl though?" Four asked.

  Eldrin laughed and shook his head. "No. She fell in love with someone else. Penelope Belmonte."

  Four frowned. "Oh. That must have sucked."

  "Sort of," Eldrin said with a shrug, "yeah, I guess. But I loved them both, Four."

  "What happened to her?" Four asked, "Did she die in the attacks? Is that why you can't heal anymore?"

  ELdrin glanced at Four for a long moment, "Of course not. That'd be simple, wouldn't it? No. She's Matilyn Malevus. We joined the Guard together."

  "Malevus?" Four repeated, surprised.

  "Yeah," Eldrin said, "I followed her into the Guard. Sort of our routine at that point. She chose to do something, and I tagged along. I wanted to protect her."

  He shook his head.

  Four nodded, "You did. She's alive. She took back Teirford. Everyone knows her name."

  "Exactly," Eldrin said, "Lieutenant Malevus. She's an officer. She'll keep moving up too, in ranks, because that's who she is. Don't you get it, Four? Don't you know how hard that must be on her? Think about One. About Three."

  Both of them glanced at Three. She was supporting her end of the travois without a word.

  Four frowned again, "I get it," he said, "but still. She's not dead, and she's a hero. It's not perfect, but this isn't an ideal world."

  "Yeah," Eldrin sighed, "But it's not like I'm going to see her again. She probably thinks I'm dead. She doesn't know what I did. Gods, she'd hate me."

  "For getting attacked? No." Four said, "That's not your fault. She'd understand."

  Eldrin looked back at the sky and sighed, "That's not what happened," he admitted, "The truth is a lot simpler and a whole lot worse. I ran away."

  When Eldrin had brought Matilyn into the camp of Arinford soldiers, he had been frantic with panic over her life. One of their sentries had shot her and he'd been unable to heal her due to the poison on the blade. It blocked any manipulation attempts on the person.

  Once they had bandaged her and he'd gotten a chance to speak to her, Eldrin's panic had ebbed. It had been replaced with the anxiety that had plagued him for the entire war.

  Eldrin didn't want to be a soldier anymore. It was nothing like he would have thought. He didn't like to travel in the cold and in the wet. He didn't like to kill people. He didn't like to see his friends constantly in danger.

  He didn't like being in danger.

  Sitting on the outskirts of camp, against a tree trunk, Eldrin brought out one of his daggers. He carefully cut into the skin on his palm, letting his hand drip blood.

  Focusing on his Chakran, Eldrin tried to heal the wound.

  Nothing happened.

  "Damn it!" he whispered angrily. He tried again. Once again, nothing happened.

  Eldrin had lost control of his Chakran weeks earlier. He had hid it from Matilyn and from the rest of the unit. He knew what they would think. He didn't them to know how weak he was.

  He took his blade and cut again, on his arm this time. This time, he cut deeper. Pain flared up in him, and he had to grit his teeth against it. He flexed his hand, making the blood pool faster.

  "Come on," he said out loud. He focused on the wound. He thought of how it should be. He tried to touch his Chakran. He couldn't do it. Blood from the wound ran freely down his skin.

  Moonlight overhead gave him light to see by. It was late and he should be sleeping. There would be a mission tomorrow – another one – and he knew that he should start going on them. Matilyn couldn't because of her injury but it wouldn't be long before she ordered Eldrin to go.

  He didn't want to go. He couldn't heal himself; how was he supposed to focus enough to fight? How could he focus while she was here, injured?

  Eldrin knew that Sean would order him, if Matilyn didn't. He was the second-in-command. If Matilyn was out of commission, he took over. If he thought that she was not doing her job, he would order the job to be done.

  Sea
n was like a brother to him. That was the problem; they were all like family. Everyone in the damned camp was. Everyone they met became that way. Eldrin knew their hopes, their dreams, their fears. They risked their lives together daily.

  "For what?" he asked himself out loud.

  It seemed pointless. It seemed hopeless. He was lost here.

  Eldrin threw the knife down in disgust. It stuck in the ground, quivering. His arm and hand both ached from the self-inflicted cuts. He could have gotten up and retrieved a balm for it or a bandage but he didn't.

  He wanted to suffer.

  The pain was a reminder of where he was and what he was doing. Eldrin didn't like it but he wanted desperately to accept it. He had signed up for this.

  "Not for this," he whispered. He thought about what they had gone through so far; the risks they had taken; the lives they had lost.

  He had expected it to be easy. Eldrin had thought that it would be fun. Well, not fun, he told himself, but an adventure. This was neither of those. This was a nightmare. It was a nightmare that he couldn't wake up from.

  He didn't know how Matilyn managed. He couldn't understand how she so easily led them.

  Eldrin would have never wanted to be in her place. He couldn't stand the thought of ordering people to die.

  He just wanted to go home.

  He couldn't though; not with Matilyn here. She would hate him. She would think he was a coward. More than that though; he wanted to protect her.

  He wanted to show her that he could.

  But so far, she'd been the one protecting him. She'd been the one to talk him through every death, and every problem. She'd been the one to encourage him to continue despite everything, to continue on, and she'd been the one to give some light to his darkest days. She was the one that could occasionally show him what was right. The purpose behind what they were doing. It was all her.

  Then she'd been shot.

  Eldrin had nearly died of fright. It didn't matter that she'd healed. That moment where he believed her dead was ingrained in his mind.

  He'd stopped living himself for a moment.

  Eldrin knew that Matilyn didn't love him the same way that he loved her. He had accepted that a long time ago. He knew that she loved Penny. He took the ring out of his pocket. It was Matilyn's. She had thrown it away and Eldrin had promised to keep it for her until she was ready for it again.

  He didn't know when that would be. She was heart-broken. He couldn't blame her for that. He was there; he knew how close Penny and Matilyn had been.

  It had hurt, no doubt, when Penny would not accept Matilyn and Eldrin's decisions. If Matilyn couldn't accept his decisions, Eldrin did not know what he would do.

  He stared at the wound again. He willed it to mend. He willed the blood to stop.

  More gushed down his arm.

  He cursed and stood up. He paced around the camp. Almost everyone else was sleeping. There were a few sentries awake but hardly anyone else. He thought he saw one of the medics moving around. They were no doubt checking on injured soldiers to make sure they didn't die during the night.

  That was what frightened Eldrin the most; dying during the night.

  He didn't belong here.

  In the distance, he heard a sentry yell.

  Eldrin's hand went immediately to his belt. His dagger was gone. In his mind, he saw the spot that he had left it, in the ground, where he was originally sitting. It had been after he'd cut his arm.

  The rest of his weapons were at his tent. He let out a loud curse.

  He looked around to see what had caused the yell, hoping it was nothing.

  Lamonte troops were pouring in to camp. His eyes went wide with adrenaline and fear.

  Eldrin immediately sprinted towards Matilyn's tent, yelling for everyone to wake up. He pulled his coat tighter around his chest and dodged around the soldiers that were coming in.

  He came to a screeching halt when he faced a woman soldier with long red hair and a large torch. Their eyes locked briefly before she threw the torch on the ground. He saw the concentration of manipulation in her eyes and then the fire spread, blocking him from his original path.

  Another soldier came at him on the side, wielding a sword. Eldrin threw one last look at Matilyn's tent and then dodged the sword by dropping and rolling to the side. He ran back towards the tree trunk he'd originally been sitting against.

  His knife was still where he left it.

  Eldrin yanked it up and held it firmly in his hand. His eyes swept the perimeters. The camp, in the few minutes since the Lamonte troops had invaded, was not looking good. Fires were running rampart; the smell of smoke and burning flesh filled his nostrils. Screams from those now awake were amongst the noise and commotion. The silence came from those who had died while still in bed.

  A man flew out of the shadows, aiming a dagger at Eldrin's throat. He sidestepped just in time to avoid it. He quickly parried back with his own blade.

  It became quickly apparent that the Lamonte soldier was more skilled than Eldrin; he was forcing him slowly backwards. Eldrin was frantically trying to keep himself from the deadly blows.

  What saved him was the soldier tripping over his own feet. Eldrin took the opportunity to drive his dagger into the man's shoulder. It didn't kill him but he did let out a loud cry of pain.

  Eldrin pulled his blade out and then sprinted away.

  He didn't get far before he tripped over a leg in the hazy, smoky darkness. He sprawled down over a dead body. Biting back a scream and bile, Eldrin pushed himself up and backed away. The eyes of the dead soldier seemed to follow him.

  There was fighting going on.

  Eldrin realized that the entire camp was awake at this point and they were fighting back. Soldiers were trained to be able to adapt well into any situation and being ambushed was one that they had been directly prepared for.

  He needed to fight too.

  Adjusting his dagger, Eldrin glanced around, trying to decide where he'd be most needed. It seemed like everywhere needed help. He thought of the woman with the torch; the fire manipulator. Those would be the most dangerous of the Lamonte soldiers.

  Eldrin darted towards an area where he saw flames flicking up anew, gripping his dagger tightly. He held his breath to avoid breathing in the smoke filled air. He saw the woman with the red-hair standing triumphantly near the flames.

  When he had gotten closer, Eldrin slowed down, and then came to a halt. He eyed the area and then began moving forward again, nearly tiptoeing. The Lamonte woman was mesmerized by what she had done. Once he'd approached her, Eldrin slammed his dagger full force into her back.

  As she fell, dying, she laughed.

  Eldrin stumbled back away from her body, disgusted. It was bad enough, the things that she had done; but to laugh at them, in her death?

  He turned away from the body.

  "Wait."

  He turned back, thinking that the woman might still be clinging to life. His eyes narrowed with the intent of finishing the deed.

  Immediately he realized that it wasn't her. The voice had been quiet and gentle and male.

  His eyes widened when he saw who was on the ground. It was one of the younger men that he'd met when first entering the camp. Right now, he didn't look or sound like the man he'd been trying to be at all.

  Eldrin quickly knelt down beside him. "Where are you hurt?"

  The boy blinked slowly before licking his lips. His face was coated in grime from ash and tears. "Chest. Can you help?"

  "Yes," Eldrin said without hesitation, rolling him over onto his back. He ripped the soldier's shirt off completely to expose the wound.

  "How bad is it?"

  Eldrin felt nauseous looking at it. The wound was down the full length of his chest and abdomen and very deep. He didn't know how the boy was still alive, "It's not bad at all. You're going to be fine."

  Breathing in deeply, Eldrin tried to touch his Chakran. This time, he was successful. It was like finding a warm candle on a
cold day. He smiled gently and placed his hands on the other male.

  Extending his mind towards the wound, attempting to bring the skin and tissue and muscle back together, Eldrin tried to heal. When nothing came, he tried again. As quickly and as easily as his Chakran had allowed him access, it denied him. The candle snuffed.

  Eldrin bit back a cry. He was alone in the dark.

  "I'm so cold," the boy said in that gentle tone. Eldrin had been wrong: he wasn't completely alone.

  "I'm so sorry," Eldrin said miserably, "I wanted to help you; I truly did."

  The soldier allowed tears to freely run down his face, "I want my mother."

  Eldrin took one of the boy's hands in his own and said nothing. He knew that sometimes being there was enough.

  "I'm cold," he repeated, "I'm cold and I want my mother."

  Without speaking still, Eldrin took off his own jacket and wrapped it around the boy.

  "I..." the boy started to say before his eyes fluttered. His hand felt limp in Eldrin's. A moment later he was dead.

  This time when panic started to flare, Eldrin didn't try to stop it.

  He stumbled to his feet and turned and ran. He had no clear idea where he was going but he sprinted all out nonetheless. At one point, he tripped, glanced behind him, and saw the body of the dead boy go up in flames.

  That was all he needed to keep going. He flew from the camp, cutting himself on twigs and bushes as he went. Everything to him was a mixture of flashing lights and objects in front of him in his state of delirium.

  It was the middle of the night still and therefore the further Eldrin got from the camp, the darker it became. The moon was high but its light didn't cut through the dark tangles of the trees. The sounds of fighting and fire faded as well to be replaced by animal noises; howling and skittering.

  Eldrin ran in the dark, turning and twisting, weaving and swerving until he couldn't move another step and then he just collapsed. He was in a small clearing and he sat there, crying and screaming for more than an hour. When he finally managed to choke back his tears and anger and frustration, Eldrin thought about that soldier; he had been nothing more than a child there at the end.