Revolution (Cartharia Book 2)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  "Stini?"

  Aeliana's voice was no more than a whispered echo in his ears. He realized that his vision was dimming around the edges.

  "Stini!" she said again, a little more urgently. He wanted to tell her to be quiet, they couldn't risk being found, but he couldn't make the words work for him. They stuck in his throat.

  Then, there was darkness. Darkness, and dirt. The taste filled his mouth and overpowered him. He struggled against this unconsciousness for a moment and then simply gave up, letting it wash over him.

  It wasn't without relief.

  When Stini came to, someone had re-bandaged his wound. He thought of Aeliana. She wasn't next to him, though. There was a familiar looking young man -- the one he'd grabbed by the tunic and hauled to his feet -- but he wasn't moving.

  Stini glanced around carefully. It was full night now, and hard to see his men in the darkness. He didn't think they'd been attacked though. Surely he'd be dead if they'd been attacked.

  He slowly got this feet.

  "Oh, uh, Commander Stini," the soldier said, "I don't think you're supposed to moving. Lieutenant Jehryme said if you woke, to keep you off your feet."

  "Does she give me orders now?" Stini asked testily. The soldier blushed and went quiet.

  Stini moved throughout the basin, wincing at his stiff muscles and sore side. Despite the long run, the late night, and the exhausting battle, none of the men were sleeping.

  He couldn't find Aeliana, so he settled on Carl when he saw him.

  "Cox, give me a status update. How long have we been here? I've been passed out."

  "About four hours, sir," Carl said, "So far, no sign of the soldiers. I sent out a small scouting party to look for them about two hours ago, and they returned less than ten minutes ago. Said they couldn't find them."

  Stini nodded, "Alright. We need to get out of here and back to camp then."

  Carl nodded.

  "We need to move quietly," Stini pressed, "but quickly. Find Jehryme, give her the orders."

  "Yes sir," Carl said. He got to his feet and went off to look for her.

  It took almost half an hour to get everyone to their feet and ready to move. They marched silently, exhausted men who still had to process their grief over those they'd lost that night.

  By the time they got back to camp, Stini was ready to pass out again. Instead, he took a few sip from his private flask and then went back out to call certain officers together.

  "This was planned," he said.

  "Do you think?" Aeliana said, raising both eyebrows.

  "Yes," Stini said, "They knew where we were. They knew we'd be fighting. They came intent on taking us by surprise."

  There was a moment of silence. Then Rose said, "How could they have known our plans?"

  "There's only one way for that information to have gotten out," Stini said, his hands flexing briefly into fists.

  Carl nodded, "Someone told them."

  Stini nodded as well. "That's what I think. We've got someone here reporting to Lamonte."

  Rose frowned, "You really suspect someone from the Lost Brigade?"

  "I do," Stini said.

  "We'll find them," Aeliana declared. Her face mirrored Stini's anger. "We'll find them and we'll get rid of them."

  "How?" Carl asked.

  Aeliana considered for a moment, "We've been planning the attack for about a week now. We need to compile a list of men and women who've left the camp on any kind of scouting mission. Particularly if it was a small group."

  Rose's face suddenly filled with color, "We don't need to do that."

  Stini glared at her, "If we've got someone passing information to Lamonte, damn right we do."

  "No," Rose said, "We don't need to because I know who it was."

  Everyone stared at her.

  She blushed even further.

  "Who?" Stini demanded.

  "There was a man," she said, "I saw him leaving camp about three days ago. I didn't think anything of it. I thought maybe he wanted some privacy, and I know some of the men go out for walks. I remember seeing him coming back though, and it was at least three hours later."

  "Which man?" Aeliana demanded.

  Rose shook her head, "Jonathan? I think. I'm bad with remembering names. He's tall, with dark hair, and a tattoo on his right shoulder of a bear."

  Carl swore under his breath, "Of course."

  Stini looked over at him.

  "I should have realized," Carl said, "He was always very quiet when the subject of Lamonte came up. I knew he had a sister who immigrated here, but I didn't think there was any love for the kingdom."

  "Great," Stini said.

  "What are you going to do about this?" Aeliana asked.

  Stini met her gaze solidly, "What am I going to do?" he repeated, "I'm going to take care of the problem."

  Without waiting for any of them to say more, he stormed off into the camp. He knew the man in question, it was only a matter of finding him. He thought he might know where his tent was though.

  He was aware of the officers following him, but he ignored them, focusing on the hunt. Faces of the dead flashed before his eyes, and his anger grew.

  Jonathan was waiting near his camp. He stared at Stini when he approached.

  "Surprised to see me?" Stini demanded.

  "Sir?" Jonathan said.

  "Don't play stupid," Stini roared. "You left the camp. You passed information onto Lamonte soldiers. That was you."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Jonathon said, but his face had turned red, and he kept shifting his eyes away, as though looking for a quick escape.

  Stini shook his head in disgust. "You're a bad liar, Jonathon."

  By this time, more of the camp had approached. Some of them were the soldiers who'd been out with Stini, some of them were those that had been left behind. They gathered in small huddles, watching the scene.

  "But sir," Jonathon started to say.

  "No," Stini said, with finality.

  Jonathon's eyes moved to the gathered soldiers and back to Stini. He drew himself up suddenly, and Stini saw what a tall man he was. The bear on his shoulder seemed to grin at him.

  "Fine," Jonathon said coldly, "Fine, you're right. I did pass along the information. I did it for good reason too. Lamonte is looking out for the welfare of the world. What you're doing here, you're sabotaging that."

  "One more of Sullivan's brain washed zealots," Stini said.

  "I'm not brainwashed, but you're right about the zealotry part," Jonathon said, "Anyone with enough goodness in their hearts, they're zealots for his cause, because they see how right it is. They understand his vision."

  Stini didn't feel like arguing ideology with the man. It had been a long night. He looked over his shoulder at Aeliana and Carl. They both raised their eyebrows at him questioningly.

  "Take him," Stini said, "Get him to the center of the camp."

  Jonathon didn't try to protest as the two lieutenants approached him. Aeliana unarmed him, and the two of them each took his arms, directing him along.

  Stini turned towards the watching men. "Gather up," he said, "I'm going to show you what happens to traitors of the Lost Brigade."

  A few of them exchanged glances, and he could hear a few muttered words of distress. Despite the fact that Jonathon had betrayed them, this was a man they knew. This was a man that many of them liked.

  The world was a different place now though, Stini thought. It wasn't a place where you were afforded the luxury of getting to keep all your friends. For a moment, he thought of Matilyn.

  Then the moment passed, and he followed the moving crowd to where Jonathon was being held.

  "Make him kneel," Stini commanded.

  Aeliana put both hands on Jonathon's shoulders, but she didn't need to push him down; he went on his own.

  Stini drew his sword. He approached Jonathon, "You are being executed for the crimes of treason against your king and kingdom, as ordered by Commander Arthimur Stini
, Commander of the Lost Brigade of the Arinford Guard. Do you have any last words?"

  Jonathon looked up at the gathered faces, so familiar. He said, "I hope you realize what you're doing before its too late."

  Stini brought his sword up above his head, clenching the pommel with both hands.

  Just before he swung it, he saw a flash of fear across Jonathon's face. The man might have been a Lamonte zealot, but in the end, just like the rest of them, when it came to death, he was still a coward.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Dear Majesty, Your Queen

  CATHERINE GLANCED HERSELF OVER IN THE MIRROR. She was wearing a long, red dress over a tight corset. She tilted her head, trying to decide if it was too provocative for the image she was trying to portray to the people of Terifille.

  In the end, she decided it would be alright. Besides, it had been so long since she'd felt truly beautiful in the drab, loose clothing she'd been forced to wear while recovering.

  There was a knock at the door.

  "Yes?" Catherine called out.

  A servant opened the door and poked her head, "Princess Catherine, I was sent to see if you need anything before the dinner."

  "Nothing," Catherine said. "Will Prince Oliver be here to escort me soon?"

  "He will," the servant assured her. "You look beautiful, my lady."

  'Thank you," Catherine said. "Actually, there is something you can do for me. Not now though. Now, I'm fine. But later, when I change, I wonder if you could assist me with my hair? Do you braid?"

  The servant nodded, "I do. My mother taught me," she added shyly.

  "Wonderful," Catherine said. "Then I will call upon you later. What's your name?"

  "Maya."

  Catherine offered her a warm smile, "Thank you, Maya. You can go for now."

  Maya nodded and closed the door again.

  Catherine turned back to the mirror. She selected a light blush brush and added some color to her cheeks. Satisfied, she stepped away from the mirror and looked around. It would be the last time she'd been in this room; she was finally well enough to move back into her old chambers.

  Soon, she wouldn't be in those either. She would be sharing with Oliver. The idea both pleased and displeased her. It would be well enough to have company in the night, she could admit that much, but it would also give her very little privacy.

  There were plenty of things that she'd been keeping from her betrothed. Things that could ruin their wonderful little working relationship. Why, just recently, she'd entertained a gentleman caller from her new Left Hand.

  Oliver couldn't know things like that. She'd have to watch herself more carefully. She'd been lonely though, and Oliver had been out on business. What was a girl to do?

  Catherine sighed.

  A few minutes later, there was another knock on the door.

  "Come in," she called out.

  Oliver opened the door. He was dressed handsomely, and Catherine's smile grew a little bit.

  "You look wonderful," Oliver said, his eyes wide as he observed, "Gods, Catherine!"

  "Thank you," Catherine said. "I don't look that much different than brunch, though, do I?"

  "You do," Oliver assured her. They'd feasted together only hours before, but it was tradition to spend one's birthdate in the company of the royal court of Terifille. Tonight, there was a feast in her honor, and then an elegant ball.

  Catherine looked forward to that. She had the perfect dress in mind. For now, she spun around, giving Oliver a full view. She was amused by the way he swallowed a few times at the sight of her.

  "I'm glad you like it," she murmured.

  "I love it," he said, "I love you."

  "And I love you," Catherine said.

  "Come," Oliver said, "They're waiting for our arrival." He offered out an arm to her.

  Catherine took his arm and allowed him to escort her from her chambers. For the first time since her attack, there were no guards posted outside her door. Matilyn and Samuel would be in the dining hall already.

  They kept silent during their walk. Most of their conversations revolved around their future plans, and that was not something they could discuss in the open.

  When they arrived at the dining hall, it was full. Everyone rose to welcome them. Catherine's eyes swept the room, pausing briefly on the king, on the Swin family, and on several members of her Left Hand. She spotted Samuel and Matilyn sitting together.

  Catherine made the appropriate pleasantries and then took her place at the table; to the right of the king. He leaned over to give her a fatherly kiss on the cheek. "Catherine," he said, "How lovely it is to see you up and about again. You can't imagine how worried I was."

  "Your concern touches me, truly," Catherine said, "But there is no longer need for it. I have been declared perfectly healthy as of this morning."

  "No lingering pains?" asked Lee.

  "None," Catherine said, "The doctors that you sent in were exceptional. It's almost as if the attack never happened."

  "Yet, it did," Samuel said from his place, three seats down. "And we mustn't forget that, Princess Catherine."

  "No," Lee agreed, a little solemnly, "We mustn't."

  "But surely," Catherine said, "Tonight is not a night to dwell on it? It is my birthdate, and I wish to celebrate."

  "And celebrate we shall," Lee said. He motioned towards the servants on the back wall, and immediately they began bringing food to the table.

  Once the food was set, Catherine filled her plate. There were dozens of different dishes, many of them that Catherine had never tried. Many of them were centered on a fruity theme, lending sweet flavor to the meal.

  She ate sparingly, unable to truly indulge because of the corset beneath her clothing. Besides, a princess never indulged too heavily. Especially in front of other people.

  The conversation was light-hearted. She found herself laughing many times throughout the meal. Most of the time, it was forced laughter, but she did it anyway, tossing her head back and grinning like a girl.

  Lee seemed in especially good spirits.

  "I have decided it's past time to allow the wedding to happen," he confided in Catherine. "Our two kingdoms must be joined."

  "I'm so happy to hear that," Catherine said, "I was beginning to wonder if I'd displeased you somehow."

  "No," Lee said, "Never. I couldn't imagine someone I'd rather have as a daughter-in-law. You are warm, kind-hearted, and you make Oliver happy. If I delayed, it was only out of concern for you. I'm still concerned, but I don't believe we can wait any longer."

  Catherine nodded, "Neither do I," she agreed, "Besides, Oliver and I have been talking. We're impatient to begin our family together."

  She placed a hand on her stomach. "I want to be a mother," she said.

  Lee's eyes lit up, "I'd love that," he said in a hearty tone, "Little grandchildren... oh, how I wish Oliver's mother were alive to see them. Never mind, never mind. It will be wonderful to have children afoot."

  Down the table, there was a slight cough. Catherine narrowed her eyes a little and slid them down to Matilyn. Matilyn met her gaze solidly. Her expression was warm, but Catherine thought she saw something in the other woman's eyes. Distrust, perhaps.

  It didn't matter. It was too late for anyone to try and stop her from her intentions.

  Throughout the dinner, people brought her gifts. Some were in the forms of trinkets, some in sonnets, and some in mere compliments to her beauty, wit, and intelligence. Catherine soaked in the attention, and many that night would say that she simply radiated happiness.

  When the feast was over, and it was time to prepare for the ball, Catherine knew at least another half dozen people who she felt would willingly join her Left Hand. That was the best gift of all.

  Matilyn felt out of place in the large ballroom. Samuel had escorted her, officially, but she'd lost him somewhere in the crowd. Instead, she was stuck making forced pleasantries with anyone who approached her.

  She kept getting dance of
fers from various people in the room. She accepted most of them as graciously as possible. She might have refused if she'd come as a guard, but Lee had insisted that she and Samuel spend the day as true guests to the Terifille court.

  Even as guests, it was difficult to relax. They'd spent most of the day surrounded by people celebrating Catherine's birthdate. Matilyn and Samuel had both given her gifts, as was the custom. Matilyn's had been a small book on the various scriptures of the gods.

  After her fourth dance, this time with an elderly gentleman who proved to be a great conversationalist, Matilyn moved over towards where drinks were being served. Her dance partner, Kenneth, escorted her.

  "You know," he said, "I was in Arinford for many years of my life."

  "Were you?" Matilyn asked, surprised.

  Kenneth nodded, "I was," he said, "Beautiful kingdom. Wonderful people. I quite enjoyed my stay."

  "What part did you stay in?" Matilyn asked.

  "Oh, I travelled," Kenneth said, "I spent a few months in Valishna--"

  "That's where I'm from!" Matilyn exclaimed.

  "Are you now?" Kenneth said, "Well, then. Tell me, was there still a little shop that sold candies downtown? The hard kind, homemade, wrapped in tissue? Sold by a little woman, overweight, sweetest lady in the city? What was the name? It'll come to me..."

  "Butterbees?" Matilyn asked, amused.

  "Ah yes," Kenneth said, "That's it."

  "It's still there," Matilyn said, "But it's run by her daughter now. Or, well, it was. Before the fall of Valishna. Now, I don't know."

  Kenneth let out a small tut. "Terrible, terrible, that attack. No, don't give me that look. I know what they say. Greater good. I'll tell you, though, the ends don't always justify the means."

  "Valishna was a greedy city," Matilyn said, "The people there didn't share their wealth with the rest of the world. Right across the port from us, less than six days away, people were starving to death. We didn't help them."

  "No," Kenneth said, "You didn't. But humans are conditioned to think of themselves first. That's the way they're raised. Is it their fault that they don't open their eyes to the gravity of others' situations? Or is that to blame on society in general?"