Revolution (Cartharia Book 2)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  Will sighed into his hands, "Then we leave," he said, "We sneak away from my own Guard, like criminals. I hate this."

  Janice spoke up, "I understand all the reasons to leave," she said, "and I agree with them. I do. But we can't keep going this way. We haven't eaten properly since we left the dungeons. We're running on fumes. Soon, we won't be able to run at all. This could be our chance to save ourselves."

  "But," Sean began.

  Janice interrupted him, "I know what you're going to say, Sean. It's not that I disagree. I get it, we have things to do. But we're not going to be doing them if we're dead. It's a risk, joining up with the Guard. We might have to sneak away in the middle of the night. I don't know. But I know we can't continue like we've been. We'll be captured or killed in days."

  "You truly believe that?" Will asked.

  Janice nodded.

  Sean sighed. "I can't in good conscience agree with you," he said.

  Janice looked disappointed, but not angry. She simply nodded, "And I can't agree with you," she said.

  They both looked at Will.

  Will stared at them, alarmed. "No," he said, "Don't put this on me. I don't want to make this decision."

  "You are our prince," Janice said.

  "I'm your friend," Will countered.

  "Janice is right," Sean said, "You are our friend, Will, but you are also our prince. Our loyalty is with you. Whatever you think is best, that's what we'll do."

  Sean saw Will's face flush. He knew he'd upset the young prince. He and Janice both had. He didn't like being in the middle. Sean could understand that, but he thought it necessary this time.

  "I don't know what to do," Will said in a small voice, "both of your thoughts have merit. I don't like this."

  "I don't either," Janice admitted. "But it's where we're at."

  Will sighed. He climbed to his feet, and walked a short distance away from them. He stared up into the sky, thinking. Sean and Janice watched him silently. Sean felt Janice reach over and take his hand. He felt a wave of relief sweep through him. He didn't know what he'd do without her.

  For a while, the three of them sat in stony silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The day grew steadily later, as shadows grew longer on the ground, and darkness began its descent.

  Eventually, Janice let go of Sean's hand and went to put her hand on Will's shoulder. "Will?"

  Will looked over at her. Then he turned and looked at Sean. "I think we have to go to the troops," he finally said. "I know how you feel about it, Sean, but Janice is right. We can't do anything if we don't get some help."

  "Alright," Sean said. He stood up. "I'll lead the way."

  Stini took a sip of his coffee and stared out at the moons.

  "It's going to be alright," Rose said to his left. He glanced over at her. He saw his own worry reflected in her eyes, despite her statement. So far, just under a hundred of his men had died of the yellow fever. Even more were sick. He'd made rounds earlier, stopping by to see each of the sickened men. He felt it was his penance to see them like that.

  "Is it?" he asked.

  "Yes," Rose said. She put a hand out on his shoulder, "Commander, listen to me. We'll get past this. We've been through worse."

  "But we can't fight it," Stini burst out. "If it was troops, we could handle that. If they were too large, we could flee. If they were small, we could kill them. But we can't kill the fever, Kalles."

  Rose shook her head, "I know," she told him, "but we can't let this consume us either. Not everyone gets the yellow fever. We're going to survive."

  "I hope so," Stini said. "The men deserve better than to die like animals."

  "You deserve better too," Rose said.

  Stini looked at her for a minute. The moonlight shone on her hair, making it appear brighter than it was. Her smile was so warm, so comforting.

  "Jehryme has it," he said. He swallowed heavily.

  "Not everyone who gets infected dies," Rose said, "We've seen dozens of people recover already. Aeliana will make it."

  He thought of his second-in-command. He'd never really appreciated her until he realized she might die. She wasn't the soft, comfortable person he sometimes wanted her to be, but he'd come to respect her harshness. It matched his, in a way.

  "I'm taking care of her myself," Rose said. "She's sleeping right now, but I think the black patches are starting to fade."

  Stini blinked and then reached out, clutching at Rose's hand, "You shouldn't be around the sick," he said, "You'll get it too. Let one of the others tend to her. One of those who's already sick, or one of those that have recovered."

  "No," Rose said, "She deserves better than that, and you know it. How can I abandon her? She's one of us. She's the heart of this Brigade."

  The thought brought a gurgled laugh to Stini's mouth. "The heart?" he said.

  "Yes," Rose said, and she frowned at him, "You may not realize it, but she means a lot to the men. She's the one to pass along your orders, and she's the one who stays and talks with them after the deed is done. She protects them from the gruesomeness of what they do."

  "I suppose she does," Stini said, "I didn't think..."

  "Sometimes you don't," Rose said, "But you're a good commander. I know you have a hard time believing that, but you are. I saw you talking with the men earlier. Giving them comfort."

  Stini swallowed again. He was terrified, that was for sure. He wasn't terrified of the fever -- if he got it, that might just be karmic justice, but he was terrified of letting his men die out like flies in the night.

  "Thank you," he said.

  Rose nodded.

  He thought of saying more. Telling her, perhaps, his feelings towards her. Telling her what she meant to him, what she represented.

  Before he could act on this impulse, one of the soldiers jogged up to him. It was Eric. "Sir?"

  "Yes?" Stini asked.

  Eric hesitated, "Sir, we've, uh... I don't want to say we've captured... but, we've taken into custody... well, three persons, claiming to be from Arinford. Two men, one woman."

  Stini blinked, "What?"

  "They were approaching, sir," Eric said, "We thought about firing on them, but it was strange, you know? Why would three Lamonte soldiers approach us? Then they told us who they were, but we didn't know if we should believe them. It just seems so outrageous, you know? So we took them in, and we took their weapons, but I think you need to come see them, Commander."

  "Who are they?" Stini demanded.

  Eric shook his head, "They're claiming to be part of the Lost Brigade," he said, "Well, two of them are. The third..."

  "Spit it out," Stini said, feeling his patience start to wane.

  Eric glanced between him and Rose, finally seeming to recognize that he'd interrupted some sort of moment. His face flushed red. "The third soldier, he's saying he's the prince of Arinford, sir. He's claiming to be William Parnell."

  SIXTEEN

  With This Affair Along

  MATILYN BROUGHT HER SWORD DOWN, BLOCKING THE incoming hit. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the room. She used her shield next, blocking yet another swing of the blade.

  Over and over, she blocked and parried the hits that came at her. She felt her face dripping with sweat from the exertion, but it wasn't really a struggle. The moves were expected and boring.

  Still, she said nothing, allowing the woman fighting her to continue to swing away. She was sweating too, more than Matilyn, and nearly out of breath. Her blond hair stuck to her face in clumps, and her fair skin had long since flushed a bright red.

  Matilyn struck out with her own sword. The blade touched the girl's chest, but didn't pierce. Matilyn used her forward momentum to slam into the woman with the broad part of her shield next. It struck her heavily, nearly throwing her off her feet.

  The woman struggled to keep her balance, retreating several feet. Matilyn could have pushed the advantage, but instead she waited for the girl to come back at her. When she did, she simply pa
rried the frenzied, obvious swings of her sword.

  Then she heard clapping. She looked over to see Samuel standing there, watching the duel with an amused expression. He was lazily bringing his hands together. It didn't bother her. She'd learned, since arriving in Terifille, that mockery was Samuel's primary way of communicating. She'd adjusted accordingly.

  The girl she was fighting, however, seemed less amused. She let her sword hang down towards the ground and glared over at Samuel. "Can we help you?"

  "You can't," Samuel said, "Malevus can. I need her."

  The girl snapped her eyes back to Matilyn, waiting.

  "Go on, put away the blades," Matilyn told her. She offered out her own sword and shield. "We'll work on your moves more tomorrow. You have a lot to learn."

  "Yes Commander," she said, accepting the weaponry and quickly rushing to put it away.

  Samuel stepped over to meet Matilyn, "Who's she?"

  "Lynelli Sparn," Matilyn said.

  "And you're dueling with her because of her obvious skill?" Samuel asked with a raise of an eyebrow.

  Matilyn shrugged, "She wants to learn. I said I'd teach her."

  Samuel observed Matilyn for a moment. "Oh gods," he said, "You're sleeping with her. No, no, you don't have to answer. It's written all of your face."

  Matilyn felt herself flush. She didn't argue the statement, though, knowing Samuel could find out the truth if he wanted to. There was no reason to lie.

  "We're not here so you can have fun with the locals," Samuel reminded her.

  "I know that," Matilyn said, "Have I been lax on duty at all?"

  "No," Samuel conceded with an easy grin, "I suppose not. I'd commend you, but gods, Malevus. She's a child."

  Matilyn shook her head, "She's almost my age," she defended.

  "Well, besides the obvious fact that you're nearly a child yourself," Samuel said, "the girl is sheltered. Sheltered women are quite like children, you know. They don't have the age of experience."

  "Shut up, Frien," Matilyn growled. She didn't know why it bothered her so much, him pointing out the truth. Lynelli was young, and she was fairly inexperienced. Perhaps that's what drew Matilyn to her. It was nice to be with someone who wasn't weighted down with the cynicism of war and death.

  Samuel held up his hands, "You're a free woman," he said, "I won't stop you from indulging. Still, you know we'll have to leave soon."

  "She wants to come with," Matilyn said, "She wants to serve in the war. That's why I'm teaching her swordsmanship."

  Samuel rolled his eyes, "Right," he said. "I'm not going to waste my time arguing that point. The King wants to see us."

  Matilyn glanced down at her uniform. She was wrinkled, sweaty, and in need of a bath. She sighed, "I suppose I don't have time to change?"

  "You suppose right," Samuel said, "Come along, Malevus. You're not that bad."

  Matilyn sighed and set after Samuel. "What's he want, anyway?"

  "I don't know," Samuel admitted, "Probably to tell us how much he loves Catherine... again."

  Since they'd arrived, Catherine had been nothing but a sweet, well-mannered woman who doted on the king, the prince, and the common people. She'd even been out to the city a few times, handing coins out to the poor alongside her betrothed.

  She was nothing at all like the Catherine they'd come to know. It worried them both. They discussed it late into the evenings on some nights, wondering what the girl was playing at. Matilyn might have thought they were overreacting if she hadn't seen Catherine's manipulation.

  The girl was not the mild-mannered princess she was portraying herself as.

  Matilyn sighed.

  "I wish this wedding would hurry up," Samuel said, "I want to be back out in the field."

  "So do I," Matilyn said, "But they have their customs."

  "I don't care about their customs," Samuel said.

  Matilyn shook her head, "You should," she said, "This kingdom will win us the war. That's what King Sullivan believes, anyway."

  Samuel shrugged but didn't argue.

  It only took them a few minutes to reach the king. He was in his study, sitting behind a large, beautiful desk. There were bookcases on both sides of him, filled with volume after volume of popular works. There were military strategy books, history books on various kingdoms, books on philosophy, and a wide array of other subjects. What interested Matilyn the most, though, was the fiction selection he had. She saw mystery books, and several children's tales.

  Lee Sanders stood up to greet them. "Commanders."

  Both Samuel and Matilyn offered a formal salute. "King Sanders."

  "Thank you for your time," he said, gesturing at the two chairs in front of his desk. Matilyn took the left, Samuel the right. Then the king sat down himself, clasping his hands on his desk.

  "What can we do for you, sir?" Matilyn asked.

  "I wish to speak to you about the upcoming nuptials," he said, "As you know, we have many customs here in Terifille that must be completed before marriage. The couple must pay their respects to the city, to their families, and to their personal gods."

  Matilyn and Samuel nodded.

  "There is much to be thankful for," Lee said, "and it is important that neither bride nor groom take for granted the wondrous world they've been born into. That is why we must adhere to our cultural obligations. That being said, I know that both of you are eager to return to Lamonte."

  Matilyn and Samuel exchanged a look and neither argued that fact.

  Lee nodded, "I understand your hurry," he said. "I have no wish to keep you from the war."

  Still, neither of them spoke.

  "Normally," Lee said, "We spend at least one week paying homage to the city by traveling through it, and gifting the poor with coin or food or medicine."

  Samuel said, "Catherine has been going to the city."

  "Yes, but she has not gone with the blessings of the gods in preparation for her wedding day," Lee said, "She must do so. Then there is the time she must spend with family. We give a week for the couple to sit with their kin and rejoice in their company."

  "Catherine doesn't have family here," Matilyn said.

  "No," the king said, "but she has you. You will have to stand in for her family, the two of you. Then there is the week of prayer and spirituality that must happen..."

  Matilyn and Samuel exchanged yet another look.

  Lee sighed. "I suppose that seems a bit overdone to the two of you. I can tell you are fast losing patience. I have therefore decreed that each of these weeks be shortened to a day for each. Will that satisfy you?"

  "Three days then," Samuel said.

  "Three days," Lee agreed.

  "It is satisfactory," Samuel said. He glanced at Matilyn.

  "Very satisfactory," she agreed. But she thought of Lynelli suddenly. The girl definitely wouldn't be ready by the end of three days. Samuel was right, she'd have to be left behind.

  An inner war raged briefly. Lynelli was a good distraction, that much was true, and Matilyn genuinely enjoyed her company. She would miss her. The war was more important though, and Matilyn missed that far more than she would the younger woman.

  Satisfied with that acknowledgement, Matilyn nodded again. "Thank you, King Sanders."

  "You're very welcome," the king said, "We shall begin tomorrow. Will the two of you accompany us into the city to pay homage to the poor?"

  "Of course," Matilyn said. Samuel nodded as well.

  "Good," the king said, "For now, you are dismissed. I will see you in the morning."

  Lynelli Sparn laid on her stomach, feet in the air, crossed at the ankle. She was naked, with a sheet dropped over her lower body. Once again, she was sweaty and slightly red in the face.

  Matilyn had come to Lynelli to tell her that she would be leaving soon, but the other woman had distracted her entirely.

  Now she stared at her, trying to think of the right words to say.

  "Tell me about Arinford," Lynelli said.

  Matily
n shook her head, "What do you want to know? The trees were different. We didn't have nearly the rain you do here. Arinford is a kingdom ruled by farmers and fishermen."

  Lynelli shrugged, "Tell me of your customs," she said, "I know all the ones here, and some of those in Lamonte, but I know little of Arinford. If I'm to live there one day, I want to know what it's like."

  "You won't have to live there," Matilyn said, "When King Sullivan reigns over Cartharia, all kingdoms will be equal. The same laws and customs will be shared by all. You can stay right here."

  "I don't want to stay right here," Lynelli said with a trace of petulance. "I want to live in Arinford. Nearly my whole life, I've wanted that. My brother immigrated there when I was just a young girl. He was fourteen years older than me, of course."

  "What of your parents?" Matilyn asked. She didn't want to talk about Arinford. It only reminded her of Penny, and when she compared this young girl to her ex-girlfriend (wife, her brain reminded her, you said the words), it was like comparing the soft light of a candle to the majestic flames of a forest fire. There was no real comparison, in other words.

  Lynelli shrugged, "They didn't want him to leave, but he didn't want to be here any longer. He said there wasn't enough opportunity. In the end, they supported him. They wanted what was best. He'd gotten this girl pregnant, see..."

  She continued on, but Matilyn had stopped listening. She stared at the ceiling instead, her thoughts now stuck on Penny. She wondered what the other woman was doing. There was a time when Matilyn had briefly hated her, but that time had passed.

  Matilyn no longer held a grudge against Penny. She couldn't. She missed the other woman too much, missed everything about her, and the time they'd once shared. If she could have, she would have gone to Arinford and tried to convince her to join her cause.

  But she couldn't. She had responsibilities now, and those didn't include trying to convince Penny to join her in Lamonte. Besides, if she knew Penny, there was a good chance she wouldn't go.

  This thought more than any other perturbed Matilyn. If Penny couldn't see the righteousness of Sullivan, how could he be right? How was it that she was the only one able to understand his vision?