"Kill them," Matilyn screamed from the window. An arrow whizzed past her head, "Janice, it's me! Don't shoot me!"
One of the priests near the window glanced up and nodded, focusing on a Lamonte soldier close to him. The soldier suddenly shivered, dropping his sword. He let out a low gurgle as he went to his knees. Even from the window, Matilyn could see the gash in his throat that had suddenly appeared.
Beside her, Eldrin puked.
The fighting lasted most of the night. By the morning, it was obvious that Arinford had succeeded, but they'd lost plenty of people. Most of the soldiers and civilians stationed in the city had been killed, and even more from Redhorn and Stoneheart.
Sean wound his way through the dead bodies littering the streets, his adrenaline finally beginning to fade as he realized the battle was over. He'd participated to his full capacity, using both sword and manipulation on whoever got near him.
It was the first time that he'd truly felt alive since the attack on Valishna. It was a good feeling, a strong feeling, and one that he wanted to keep hold of now that combat was over. He could feel it slowly starting to slip away though.
Eventually, he looked for Janice. She didn't elicit the same type of emotion that fighting had, but when he was with her, he felt something, and that was better than the dead, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach that was usually there.
There had been a few times when he'd broken out of his misery to recognize emotion that wasn't his. When it happened, it felt like a spell had been broken and he could be whole again. There was irritation at Sheldon, pity for Matilyn and Penny, and anger at their stationing position.
All those feelings were gone though, and he was once more alone inside his head. It was a cold, frightening place to be and Sean remembered why he'd wanted to join the Guard.
As he stepped around the corner, one of the Lamonte soldiers, barely alive, raised his sword and slammed it into Sean's abdomen.
Sean crumpled forward as the edges of his vision began to blur. He realized his wish had come true sooner than he thought it would. He waited for the sweet release of emotions to overtake him and lead him into the night, but all that waited was darkness.
As consciousness stole away from, Sean realized what was waiting for him at death. It wasn't the bright, lively thing he'd thought it would be. Instead there was just a vast pool of nothingness that would stretch on forever and ever. He opened his mouth and screamed.
ELEVEN
Gods That we Adore
THE WINDS WERE BLOWING HEAVILY, BRINGING SNOW and cold temperatures wherever they went. All throughout Arinford, areas that were primarily spring states were suddenly plunged into storms they'd never experienced before. People were dying of cold, caught unaware of the blizzard like changes in the atmosphere.
At the center of the storm, Will stood on a hilltop alone. He was carrying something, but he couldn't tell what. He only knew he'd found the source of the storms, it lay in his palm like a beating heart, pulsing brightly.
A golden crown fell from the sky, landing at his feet. At the same time, there was tinkling, light-hearted laughter. It sounded girlish in nature, but there was an eerie omnipotence to it. He spun around, looking for someone--for anyone, and suddenly he was falling. He opened his mouth to scream, but nobody could hear him over the winds. He saw the city when he fell, leaping up to meet him, made of bits of shattered glass, all jumbled together and he was going to crash into the glass, he was going to die--
"Prince William!"
Will snapped his eyes open. For a moment, he didn't know where he was or who'd called out to him. He tried to focus, but the dream had felt so real...
"Prince William, wake up," the voice said again. Will closed his eyes and opened them again. Rafinnel was leaning over him, his face twisted in worry.
"I'm alright," Will said, sitting up.
"You were crying out in your sleep," Rafinnel said.
Will hesitated. "I was dreaming again," he admitted. Rafinnel looked troubled. Will ran a hand over his face, feeling droplets of sweat.
"That's at least three times this week," Rafinnel said, "Do you know they're coming so steadily? What is that you dream of, Prince William?"
"I dream of storms," Will said slowly, "And laughter, and that city, the one made of glass..."
Rafinnel shook his head, "I've travelled much of Arinford, and there are no cities made of glass."
"I saw it," Will said. He realized he was shivering. They were in a spring state, but it felt as though he'd taken the cold from his dream and brought it back with him...
Instead of arguing, Rafinnel clasped Will's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, "We will figure these dreams out," he promised, "Together. But for now, we have work to do."
Will nodded, brushing his hair back from his face, "What are we doing?"
"You'll see," Rafinnel said, "Come out of your tent when you're ready." He ducked back out of the tent, and Will sat up straighter, still thinking of the dreams. The girl's laughter had sounded familiar somehow, but he couldn't place it. Then there was the storms. Spring states never saw storms in Cartharia. He didn't understand.
He knew he couldn't dwell on it too long, though. Not if other things were going on. He wanted--no, he needed to be part of it. He shook the dream off, and yanked his boots on. Then he ducked out of the tent and stretched. He looked at the sky for a moment, expecting to see clouds, but it was clear as usual.
Rafinnel was standing with a group of men that Will didn't know by name. He'd made a point to try and meet all the soldiers, but they were part of a large division and he'd missed plenty. Will went to join them.
"Prince William," Rafinnel said. The other men hurried to bow to him. Will waved off the formality, "There's no need," he told them.
"I'd like you to meet these five men," Rafinnel said. "This is Marcus, Anna, Josephine, Kyle, and Terrance." Each one of the soldiers held their hand out in turn and Prince William shook it.
"An honor to meet you," he said, though he looked at them curiously. While he'd met plenty of soldiers, it was rare for Rafinnel to personally introduce him. He usually let Will handle that on his own.
"These men," Rafinnel said, "They're going to join the Lamonte military."
Will blinked, "What?"
"They're going to be infiltrating enemy ranks," Rafinnel explained, "Them and about sixty others, spread out, of course. These men, though, they're special."
"What's the purpose of such infiltration?" Will asked.
It was Anna that spoke up, "We need to gather information from the other side. Having men in the Lamonte military will grant us the ability to monitor what their lead commanders are doing."
Will had expected as much. He nodded. "Aren't you worried about being found out?" he asked.
The soldiers all shook their heads.
"They have ways to blend in," Rafinnel said vaguely.
Will frowned. He felt as though he were missing something. "How will you even join?" he asked.
"We're going to different villages," Anna explained, "And starting lives there. When the soldiers come through recruiting, they'll force us to sign up for fear of death. With our experience and, ah, special talents, we'll rise through the ranks quickly enough."
Rafinnel nodded, "You leave today," he told them. They all nodded.
"It's going to be dangerous work," Will said, "Gods be with you all."
"Thank you," Anna said, speaking for all of them.
Will nodded.
"As for us," Rafinnel said, looking back at the prince, "Today, we set sail for Lamonte. Are you ready, Prince William?"
Will considered for a moment. "As ready as I'll ever be," he said.
"What happened?" Sullivan asked. Eric stood by the door of the chambers. He hadn't been beckoned further in yet.
"We launched an attack on Teirford, sir," Eric said, "We believed we could take the city with the men we had, but we were met with reinforcements from Arinford almost immediately."
Sullivan silently waited for him to continue.
Eric shifted uncomfortably, "The other Arinford Charge came in when our men were busy with the attack, they weren't expecting it. Arinford prevailed, and were able to defend the port. It only took a few soldiers to hold our ships off. They could shoot them down from afar, you see, and--"
"I understand how port defense works," Sullivan said, "How did you not expect reinforcements?"
Eric hesitated, "We knew of the men, sir, we just didn't think they'd be close enough to the city to provide real support. We would have gone to take them out next, once our own back up arrived."
"And why did you not take enough men to handle the situation in the first place?" Sullivan asked.
"We thought our force was large enough," Eric said, "We couldn't have sent more men, even if we'd wanted to, sir. Our ships were past capacity already."
"And you couldn't take larger ships?" Sullivan asked with a raise of his eyebrow.
Eric shook his head, "No, sir," he said as he stepped further into the room, "You see, sir, we couldn't attack Teirford's port without fear of them destroying our ships before we approached and we don't have enough of a naval military to properly launch an attack from above the sea. So we were forced to dock near Valishna. The waters are so shallow, our ships would've been damaged had we tried to bring larger ones through."
Sullivan nodded. He had a map of Arinford pinned to his wall and he glanced at it now. Eric was right; the water shallows on both the coast of Arinford and the coast of Lamonte forced ships to dock at inconvenient locations. Valishna was the safest; it's why they'd taken that city first.
"This is why it is so imperative to get the port cities under out control," Sullivan said softly.
"I understand, sir," Eric said, "and that was our desire. We sent enough men to launch a proper ambush. We had plans for more to arrive immediately after so we could erect a decent defense."
"I see," Sullivan said, "What was the size of the charges that joined?"
Eric frowned, "Sir?"
"Were we overwhelmed?" Sullivan asked, "Were we overpowered and crushed? Did we face an opponent with massive numbers? Was a mistake made in calculating their size?"
"No, Eric said, his face burning red now. "The charges were small, perhaps only six or seven squadrons in each. We believe we far outnumbered their own. But they had the element of surprise."
"The element of surprise," Sullivan repeated. "I see."
"Also," Eric said with an air of desperation, "They were priests, sir. Their squadrons were led by Priests, and those under them could use manipulation to some extent as well."
Sullivan frowned. He poured a fresh glass of brandy and sighed. "I thought you had confirmation they were being stationed somewhere less involved."
Eric gave a miserable nod, "Yes, sir. It turns out they were stationed near Teirford. They broke orders to defend the city without proper permission."
"And have we been training our men to protect themselves against manipulations of the flesh?" Sullivan asked, "Have they been deployed?"
"Yes sir," Eric said, "It's a slow process. We only have a small number of them. I believe there were two in the city. The amount of focus they need rends them incapable of doing much else. I believe their protection must have been killed and then the men themselves."
Sullivan sighed, "I knew that would likely happen. I wanted to spare priests at first, but it is clear now that they are a formidable opponent. It is unfortunate. Do we have our own to send out to counter?"
Eric nodded, "I have lists of people who are priests that I believe would make good officers and we've copied Arinford's tactics of training every soldier to use a basic form of manipulation."
"Good," Sullivan sai.
"Teirford was a waste," he continued, "But it's not the end of the war or the world, Daniels. We gleaned information from it if nothing else. Anything else of note?"
"No," Eric said, "King William gave another speech, about Teirford, but nothing out of the ordinary."
"A speech?" Sullivan said, "What, because of one defense? It was hardly a victory for them. They lost plenty of men and gained nothing but what they'd already had."
Eric shook his head, "Our sources believe he used the speech as a way to rally more people around the idea of Priests, sir. He told the people that the gods favor Arinford and they're destined to win the war because of righteousness."
Sullivan was silent for a full minute before picking up the glass of liquor in front of him. He glanced down at it, and then threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall, less than six inches from Eric, leaving long streaks of liquor in it's wake.
Eric said nothing.
Sullivan came to his feet, face contorted in rage, "The Gods favor them? The Gods favor the selfish, greedy men who want to keep us under their heel? How dare they! They have no idea, they have no right..."
"Sir," Eric said, his face alarmed as Sullivan stood there, chest heaving.
"When we kill Parnell," Sullivan said, "We'll mount his head on a pike for months and paint his eyes for all to see. Let the people see the Gods' chosen then. Let them see what false words bring him, and let them see that you do not wait for anyone to offer you favor."
Sullivan sat back down, his anger gone as quickly as it had come, "We make our own destines. Never forget that."
Penny let out a gasp of surprise when she saw her brother. She'd been taking a walk when she spotted him near one of the training fields.
She rushed over to him, "Robert!"
Robert scooped her up, spinning her around. Then he set her down on the ground and hugged her again, "Pen," he said, "Gods, I've been looking everywhere for you."
"I was assigned a room," Penny said, "But what are you doing here, Robert?"
"Teirford was evacuated," Robert reminded her. "And a good thing too. You've heard about the attack on it?"
Penny nodded, "I've heard nothing but that," she said, "They're talking about how the charges led by Priests are touched by the Gods, destined to win this war."
Robert laughed.
"It's not funny," Penny said seriously, "They're giving people the wrong idea--we shouldn't be using our priests to fight! They should be healing perhaps, but they'd do even better here at home, helping to lead those that were left behind."
"Like you?" Robert asked.
Penny lifted her chin proudly, "Like me," she agreed.
"I'm surprised not to see you with Eldrin and Matilyn," Robert said, "Where are they?"
"Haven't you heard?" Penny asked, lifting both eyebrows, "They're part of that charge that overtook Teirford."
"I didn't realize they'd deployed," Robert said, some of the seriousness coming back to his voice. "It must be hard, with Matilyn out there..."
Penny shrugged. "I'm fine," she said. Her eyes drifted down to her promise ring. She'd been unable to get rid of it, no matter how angry she was. "I don't care."
Robert shook his head, "It's alright to care, Pen. Just don't let it overwhelm you."
"I'm not," Penny said, but even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true. She spent her mornings in the infirmary, helping where she could, and then she'd go back to her room, which felt surprisingly empty, and she'd drink enough wine to fall asleep. She reminded herself so strongly of her mother that sometimes she wanted to break down and cry.
She didn't, though. She didn't allow herself to cry. She held onto her anger instead, letting it flicker from a small flame to an all encompassing inferno of rage.
Now, though, with Robert right there, she found herself trembling. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed her brother. They'd been close most of their childhood, and she couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been there for her.
When she'd told her parents about Matilyn, it had been Robert who'd stood up and defended her. He was the one who accepted and even praised her venture into Priesthood. He'd been her best friend for a long time. People often thought they were twins--both of th
em had the same red hair and freckled appearance. He was older by two years, though, and Penny had often considered him to be her hero.
"Are mother and father still in Valishna?" Penny asked.
"I assume so," Robert said, "But it's not like we can correspond with them if they are. They're not allowing people to send letters back and forth."
"I hope they're alright," Penny said.
"They're fine," Robert said, "They were already getting cozy with the soldiers when we left, remember?"
Penny nodded.
"Actually," Robert said, "There's something I want to talk to you about."
"What's that?" Penny asked.
Robert hesitated before saying, "I think we should go back."
"Go back where?" Penny said blankly.
"Valishna," Robert said.
Penny stared at him, "You're kidding, right? Why in the world would we want to go back there?"
Robert blew out a mouthful of air, "Just hear me out, okay?"
"Okay," Penny said.
"Most of the Priests left Valishna," Robert said, "The mayor was killed. There's nobody there for law enforcement, or penance, or healing. There's no hope there at all."
Penny shrugged, "It's controlled by the soldiers," she reminded him, "They've probably formed their own little squad of peacekeepers."
Robert nodded, "I know," he said, "I've thought about that too. How do you think those soldiers treat the citizens when they speak out or do something against them?"
Penny looked down at the ground, thoughtfully. She didn't want to think about Valishna though. It hurt to remember how it had been when she'd left.
"The people need you there," Robert said.
"No," Penny said.
"Yes," Robert said. "Yes, they do. They need a leader, someone they can rally around. Someone that brings a little light in the darkness."
Penny lifted her chin, "They chose to stay," she reminded him.
"For most of them," Robert said, "It wasn't a choice. What mother would want to risk the life of her daughter by leaving? What husband would risk his wife? That's the other thing--families are torn apart. Most of them don't know whose survived. We could take a list back of the people who lived."
The Warriors of Valishna (Cartharia Book 1) Page 14