The Warriors of Valishna (Cartharia Book 1)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  Sullivan considered this for a moment. "Where are you from, Peter?"

  "Southern Lamonte, sir," Peter said, "A small town. Caroltin."

  "How long have you served in the Lamonte Military?"

  "Four and a half years, sir," Peter said.

  Sullivan nodded, "So you were there when we took Elijah."

  "Yes, sir," Peter said.

  "I want you in Valishna," Sullivan said, "You understand the way mens' minds work. I've got a good recommendation about you from your commanding officer."

  Peter frowned, "Yes, sir."

  "As a Commander," Sullivan stressed.

  "Sir, that's too great an honor," Peter said.

  "Nonsense," Sullivan said, "Do you believe in my cause?"

  Peter nodded.

  "Then you're the man for the job," Sullivan told him, "Pick out a handful of men. Make them your officers. Make sure they're men you can trust. When you get to Valishna, take the officers there into custody. Do what must be done.

  "You have two responsibilities," Sullivan said, "To keep the peace in Valishna, and to keep Valishna. If we lose that city, there's a good chance that we'll lose the war."

  "Yes sir," Peter said.

  "Now," Sullivan said, "I have a meeting to get to. You both are dismissed."

  When Sullivan entered the room, there was an immediate uproar. Several men got to their feet, as though it would help their case if they spoke louder.

  Sullivan took a moment to appraise the situation, letting his eyes linger on each man and woman in turn before stepping fully into the room and letting the door close behind him. He nodded a greeting towards the guardsmen positioned throughout the room, there to keep the peace should things become too heated.

  When it seemed as though nobody would silence themselves, Sullivan lifted both eyebrows, "Silence," he commanded in a low, intimidating voice. The room fell quiet.

  Sullivan strode forward, "It is custom to bow to your king when he enters a room," he said, "At the very least to greet him appropriately. It is custom, in fact, to greet anyone with respect instead of hurling words and accusations in their direction. Perhaps in Serjya, this is not the practice, but it is in Lamonte."

  For a moment, nobody seemed to know what to say. Someone in the back cleared their throat, and one woman looked down at the table, seemingly ashamed.

  Icaerius Blackmoore, however, leaned forward, his large face growing red. "You come in here and speak of respect," he nearly snarled, "And yet you show none to us."

  Sullivan frowned at Icaerius, "You have the darkest rings beneath your eyes, dear Icaerius. Are you not sleeping well?"

  "No," Icaerius said, "I'm not. Not since you attacked Valishna. What in the world were you thinking? Gods be damned, man. You slaughtered nearly an entire city."

  The statement hung heavily in the air as Sullivan considered Icaerius. Finally he said, "It was a terrible thing to have to do, I agree. It was necessary, however, in ensuring our advantage in the war with Arinford. Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. Unfortunately, the people in Valishna served as the first of those sacrifices."

  "And why was it necessary?" Clara Abraham spoke up, "Why did you feel as though you needed to start a war in the first place?"

  "And why," Jeremiah Stratton chimed in, "Were we not involved in this decision? You said we would retain our positions as councilmen when Serjya merged with Lamonte."

  "And you have," Sullivan said, "But I cannot answer multiple questions at once. If you will allow me a moment, I will educate you all on my decisions. We will start with the simplest. I did not involve you because it was a decision that had been made long before you joined our Kingdom."

  Jeremiah didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but he didn't speak out again either.

  "Perhaps," Sullivan said, "It is best to start from the beginning. A simple lesson on economics, if you will. Lamonte has grown considerably with addition of Serjya and Caroga. The merge was considered necessary, especially for Serjya. Your people were starving, were they not?"

  Several people nodded.

  "And yet," Sullivan said, "Lamonte's region has not changed. We are still in the depths of a swamp with little farmland and precious few areas that yield decent animal populations for hunting. We fish, but it is not enough. We must rely on trade with other kingdoms in order to provide our people with food they need to survive. Kingdoms like Arinford."

  "As though Arinford will trade with us now," Clara snorted.

  "Silence," Sullivan said, sounding for the first time irritated, "I have said that I will explain myself and my actions, but I will have the respect that is due to me. You will listen without these incessant interruptions or you shall leave. Do you understand?"

  Clara blushed and nodded.

  "Thank you," Sullivan said. He directed his attention to the whole group once more, "Now, we rely on trade with Kingdoms like Arinford. But in order to trade with other Kingdoms, we need gold. And how do we get that gold?"

  When nobody spoke up, he said, "We export."

  There was a ringing silence following the word, and Sullivan sighed. He saw that they still did not understand. "We export," he repeated, "And yet what should we export? We have no great minerals to mine, we have no food to grow, we have no animals to butcher, and Arinford hardly needs our fish.

  "No," he said, "We must rely on manmade objects instead. Yet, Lamonte is poor. You knew this when we merged, I made sure of it. Lamonte is poor because over the last century, the people have been subjected to harsh conditions and little education. When children are born, they have no necessary tools to grow intelligent and ambitious. They are expected to be fisherman, and laborers."

  "Meanwhile," Sullivan continued, "The kingdom across the sea grows prosperous off their farmlands, and animals, and coal mining. With enough gold, they implement decent education standards for their children, and they build Chapels for worship where Priests serve the people in all capacities. It is unfair."

  "You blame them for their fortune?" Icaerius asked.

  "No," Sullivan said, "Of course not. They are no more to blame for their riches than we are to blame for our poverty. It is simply a matter of who was born onto what side of the mountains. If you were lucky enough to be born to an Arinford family, your future is an open door of opportunities. If you were unfortunate and born to Lamonte, your future is set in stone.

  "I say it is unfair," Sullivan said, "But that is how nature created the world. Cartharia has always been this way, and some believe that it should stay this way. I do not agree. I say unite Cartharia under one banner."

  "One banner?" Jeremiah demanded, "Are you mad?"

  "No," Sullivan said again, "I don't believe so. Imagine, if you would, what would happen if Cartharia stood united as one large kingdom. No kingdom would go without because of their poor positioning in the world. Droughts and famine would cease to exist as all kingdoms shared their wealth with one another. It would be a world of equality and stability."

  "And power," Jeremiah said.

  "This isn't about power," Sullivan said, "I'm not a man who thirsts for it. I simply embrace what the Gods have given me; a vision to unite the world. I must be the one to lead Cartharia down that path."

  "I still don't understand the necessity of a war with Arinford," Clara finally said, "or the necessity of butchering Valishna."

  Sullivan let out a low sigh, "Do you believe they would have joined us willingly?" he asked, "Do you believe they'd have shared their wealth and prosperity and asked nothing in return? If they were willing to share, Lamonte would not be nearly as poor as it is. Their King would never have understood our vision."

  "It is unfortunate," he continued, "What happened in Valishna. If there had been another way, I would have gladly walked that path instead. But, as I've already said, it was necessary to gain the advantage. We had no other choice."

  "I don't expect you all to understand," Sullivan said with an air of sadness.

  "I understand
," Clara admitted, "The vision you speak of, it sounds as though it would benefit all."

  Several other people nodded their agreement. In the back, Sullivan's guards stood tall and silent and somber. He looked at the briefly and back to Clara, and then at the others. The anger had fled, but he still saw doubt.

  "There are sacrifices which must be made," he said, "For the greater good. I cannot allow anyone to come to believe that my word is not law and that the gods have not chosen men. With your show of insubordination and doubt, I can only imagine the sort of ripples you'd cause.

  "Therefore, for the greater good," Sullivan said, "you are guilty of treason. Sentence to be carried out immediately."

  SEVEN

  Weapons! Arms! What's the Matter Here?

  "IT'S TOO EARLY FOR THIS," ELDRIN MUTTERED to Matilyn. He edged closer to her, even as she shot him a glare. The drill instructor glanced briefly over at them.

  "Can you not get us in trouble on our first morning?" Matilyn whispered back. "He just said not to talk. So just... stand there. Quietly."

  Eldrin leaned in a little more, "You're talking right now," he teased. She shot an elbow into his ribs and he let out a light groan before straightening up and clasping his hands behind his back, shooting her a dirty look.

  Matilyn mimicked the stance, eyes drifting down the line. There were thirty-seven other recruits present. Most of them were priests; gathered from the various cities including Valishna and the returned Priests of Westwood. She saw Sean standing next to Janice, though. She tilted her head a little, considering him. He was a quiet man from what Eldrin had told her. He kept to himself in their shared room, and was often seen with Janice and her family.

  She thought Eldrin might be biased against him for that fact alone.

  "This is your family," Carson Jones said, drawing her attention forward. He gestured to the group as a whole, "For the next eight weeks, this is your family. You train with them, you eat with them, you sleep with them if you can. You learn them inside and out."

  He paused, his eyes lingering on Sean for a moment before he continued. "You are all here because you are candidates for officer training. As an officer in the Arinford Guard, it is important that you know the men and women under your command better than you know yourself."

  "You're going to have to make decisions that affect everyone under you, and it is my responsibility to figure out which of you have that capability. Over the next two months, I will determine which of you have the potential for leadership and which of you are unfit for the role."

  "Most of you are Priests, and Warlord Delanu has determined that the rigorous training and devotion you've undergone has made you more suited for leadership."

  "But," he said, "As of today, her opinion does not matter. What matters are the qualities that you demonstrate during our time here together. Each of you are a blank slate, equal to the person next to you. You will be judged upon your actions here alone. Do I make myself clear?"

  Matilyn glanced briefly at Eldrin. He rolled his eyes at her, and she bit back a sigh, turning her attention back to Jones.

  "I asked a question," Jones said, "And when I ask a question, I expect an answer. Try again. Did I make myself clear?"

  Matilyn quickly said, "Yes, sir," alongside the others. Their combined voices rang out over the field.

  "The first thing we're going to do," Jones said, "is see where you're all at, physically. I need to know how much work I'm going to have to do to get you in shape. I walked the field this morning before you arrived. The perimeter is about half a mile. Run till I say you can stop. Now. Go."

  For a moment, nobody moved. Then the group broke, everyone taking off into a run. Eldrin fell into line beside Matilyn, "Blank slates," he said with a smirk.

  Matilyn pushed a little harder, though she could already feel her chest beginning to burn. She had no idea how she'd made it through Valishna running. "It made sense," she breathed out.

  "Well, I mean, sort of," Eldrin said, "but the truth is, we're not equal. They're going to be an easy line of separation between Priests and non-Priests, you know. We've had eight years of training. They've had none. They won't be able to keep up. They'll just slow everyone else down. Or fall behind."

  "Sean just passed you," Matilyn said.

  Their eyes locked for a moment, Matilyn laughed, and sped up. Eldrin rolled his eyes and matched her pace.

  Sean felt his arms burning as he struggled to hold the plank position. Jones had put them through the ringer, forcing them to run several miles before instructing them to do jumping jacks, push-ups, crunches, and a variety of other exercises. The day had passed in a blur of sweat and swearing for the fresh recruits.

  Several times, Sean had heard Jones instruct someone to repeat an exercise or to do something extra. Eldrin had been sent to run an extra two miles when Jones realized he'd only been matching Matilyn's pace instead of setting his own.

  So far, Jones hadn't stopped at Sean yet. He was approaching though, so Sean forced himself to straighten out his form.

  "Sweeton," Jones said, "Talk with me a moment."

  Sean started to drop position but Jones barked out, "Hold position, Sweeton. I didn't tell you to move."

  "Yes, sir," Sean said, forcing his arms to straighten back out. He focused on the pain, and the trembling in his arms. It was a different feeling, but it wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

  "You're not a Priest," Jones said. "Yet, you were still approved for officer training. How's that?"

  Sean cleared his throat, trying to focus. The trembling had spread to his legs, "I had a recommendation from another officer, sir."

  Jones nodded, glancing down at the clipboard he was carrying, "I see. Here's the thing, Sweeton, I'm not sure you're cut out for my course. The rest of the men and women here, they've been through eight years of training already. They understand discipline, chain of command, and have already experienced the rigorous structure that the Guard demands. On top of that, they've mastered their Chakran, so their skills as manipulators can only blossom from here. Tell me why I'm interested in you."

  Sean could hardly catch his breath to speak. There were a hundred things he could say, but he needed to find the right one.

  "Sir," he said, "I can call upon my Chakran as well."

  Jones blinked, surprised, "Drop position and talk to me, Sweeton."

  Sean dropped out of the plank and then slowly pushed back to his feet. He was sweating heavily and breathing hard, but did his best to stand straight, "I'm not a Priest, sir, but I wanted to be. I spent several hours a day in the infirmaries, watching the Priests work. I would pay attention to the way they moved their bodies, and work at home trying to emulate it. Eventually, I could."

  "I see," Jones said. He was silent for a moment before speaking, "There aren't many people out there who can manipulate without any professional instruction, Sweeton. What are you versed in? Just healing?"

  "No, sir," Sean said, "I took the principles from healing and worked to try out different forms of manipulation. I know that it's not readily acceptable by the Chapel, but I wanted to learn."

  Jones made a motion with his hand, "Show me something."

  Sean frowned. He extended his hand and tried to focus.

  Sean tried to center himself and block out the noise of the other recruits surrounding him. He focused on that inner peace he'd often felt when calling upon his Chakran in the past, but this time, he felt nothing. He felt empty.

  "Impressive," Jones said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  Sean focused again, trying to manipulate the skin on his hand, just a little. Nothing was happening. A gust of wind whipped by them. Then the skin warbled a little and then ripped open. Sean let out a gasp of shock and pain.

  Jones quickly stepped forward, setting a hand on top of the wound. He closed his eyes and Sean felt the skin shift again, closing beneath Jones' hand. "I didn't know you were a Priest, sir."

  "Now you do," Jones said, dropping the hand, "You can manipulate
, that's obvious, but you've got nowhere near the control that's needed, Sweeton. I don't think you're fit for this kind of training. I can always recommend you to one of the squadrons that are less versed in manipulation."

  "Sir," Sean started to say but before he could get out more than that, Janice had stepped forward.

  "I'll help him," she said.

  Jones turned to Janice, "Who're you?"

  "Akins, sir. Janice Akins," Janice said, "And I can help him catch up. After we're done each day here, I'll work with him on his manipulation."

  "Akins," Jones mused. He glanced at the clipboard, "You related to the officer that gave Sweeton a recommendation?"

  Janice nodded, "Yes, sir. He's my father."

  Jones glanced between Sean and Janice, "So you've a vested interested in seeing that he stays with this group. I can tell by looking at you. I see. I don't--"

  "I'll help him too."

  Sean glanced over, surprised to see Matilyn. She'd stopped her training to step towards them and speak. "You said we're all blank slates, sir. Besides, Eldrin will too, sir. They've been assigned a room together. He'll be able to train with him any time we're not here."

  Eldrin glared at Matilyn.

  "Is that right?" Jones asked Eldrin.

  Matilyn glanced back at Eldrin, widening her eyes just a little bit and jerking her head in an obviously pointed gesture of agreement. Eldrin wrinkled his nose at her, but nodded, "Yes, sir. I'd be willing to help him."

  "Alright," Jones said, "I suppose if all three of you are willing to work with him, he must be something special. Consider yourself spared for today, Sweeton. You can keep training with us. Fall behind though, and I'll send you off. Understood?"

  "Yes, sir," Sean said.

  "That goes for the three of you as well," Jones said to Janice, Matilyn, and Eldrin.