Revolution (Cartharia Book 2)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  The man hesitated.

  Stini held up his sword, "It's that," he said, "or death. Your words are plenty, but the Lost Brigade is uninterested in words. What we want to see is action. Can you show us action? Can you back up your claims of supporting us?"

  "Yes," the man said, "We'll take out the convoy."

  "We'll be watching," Stini said, "and if you back out from your word, we'll be here. We won't give second chances."

  The man nodded.

  "Go back into your city and gather your people," Stini said, "You have a lot of planning to do."

  Two days later, the Lost Brigade came into formation again, watching as the villagers from a medium sized city banded together to attack their countrymen. Stini was impressed: they didn't have many weapons, but they fought with what they could find. They used pitch forks, shovels, knives, and an assortment of other gardening tools.

  The citizens of the city didn't have any military experience and their form wasn't great, but Stini was surprised and even more impressed to see that they formed their own little formation and stuck to it.

  "Look at them," Aeliana said in wonder. "They're really doing it."

  "They know they have no other choice," Carl said.

  "It's not just that," Aeliana said. "I think they really want a new chance. I think they're really tired of Lamonte's rule."

  Carl considered for a moment, staring out at the men. Then he nodded. "That was the point of the Lost Brigade, right? To show people they had another option? That it was worse to support the Black King then to support Arinford?"

  Aeliana nodded.

  "They're losing," Stini said, interrupting this little conversation.

  "We can't let them lose," Aeliana said.

  "It's their fight," Stini said.

  "No," Aeliana said, "It's not just their fight. You told them they wouldn't die if they went out there, and they believed you. You can't just set back and let them get killed. Those men aren't just citizens, they're in-training soldiers."

  Stini could see that she was right. The men on the convoy were supposed to be other villagers, easy to take down, but this group wasn't. They had real swords, and arrows, and they were easily decimating the attacking villagers.

  He sighed.

  "Commander," Carl said, "I'll follow your orders, but I think Lieutenant Jehryme is right. We shouldn't let them die out there."

  Stini sighed again.

  "Stini!" Aeliana said.

  "Alright," Stini said. He glanced between them. "Alright. Get your men. Get out there and take over. Try not to kill the villagers. Just focus on the soldiers. What are you waiting for? Go!"

  Aeliana and Carl both turned, immediately heading to give their men the orders they were waiting for.

  Stini watched as a soldier came at the man who'd spoken to him the night before. He was fighting only with a pitchfork. For a moment, he felt stuck watching, unable to tear his eyes away.

  Then he rushed forward, drawing his sword as he went. Before the Lamonte trainee could kill the man, Stini dove into the villager, knocking him away. He parried the blow that was meant for him, wincing at the familiar metal on metal grind.

  He shoved the man backwards with a heavy thrust of his blade and the trainee nearly lost his balance. His eyes widened in shock. It was clear he hadn't expected someone with skill to come to the field.

  Stini pressed his advantage, using that surprised moment to drive the man further back. The trainee was barely able to keep up with the swings of Stini's blade.

  He thought of Malevus as he fought. He wondered if he would run into her soon, and if he did, if he'd be able to keep up with her sword strikes. She was a formidable soldier from what he could remember. She had taken to the sword quickly -- how else had she risen to Commander so fast?

  The man gave a startled cry when Stini's sword pierced his lower abdomen. Then, surprisingly, "This isn't fair!"

  Stini blinked and looked at the man as he went to his knees, face draining of color. "No?"

  "No," the man whispered.

  "I guess it's not," Stini said. He mercifully slid the sword into the man's chest, ending his suffering. He looked around. Aeliana and Carl's men had joined the fight. It wasn't much of a battle: they were experienced soldiers and these men were only trainees.

  The villagers looked confused at first, then worried, then terrified, then relieved as they weren't attacked. Most of them kept fighting, Stini was happy to see.

  Once the fighting had stopped, Stini walked up to the man he'd saved, "You did it," he said, "You proved yourself."

  "You'll let us live?" the man asked.

  Stini nodded. "We'll let you live. We're going to take the supplies from this convoy for our men, though."

  The man nodded, "I thought as much."

  "I want you to send your men and women with me," Stini said, "We'll train them to fight. If they really want to do something good for their kingdom, they'll fight the Black King with us. It's the way to stop this war."

  The man stared out at all the dead bodies, "Most of these men were farmers before," he said, "or fishermen, or some other kind of manual labor job. The women were washers, seamstresses, bakers... you really think these men will make good soldiers?"

  Stini gave him a look of cold certainty, "Do you believe the Lost Brigade were born with swords in our hands? No. My men were once the same."

  The man flushed, embarrassed, "You're right," he said.

  "I want you, especially," Stini said, "It takes a brave man to walk up to an army of men setting on killing you."

  "Or a desperate one," the man said.

  Stini laughed, "Why, don't you know? That's the same thing."

  THIRTY-TWO

  And Now, Good Friends

  THEY CAME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE night. Janice had the watch shift and she hadn't caught even a glimpse of them before they were upon her. She might have been dozing. She cursed herself under her breath. Sean had offered to take this watch, knowing how tired she was. She'd refused, of course. This was her own fault.

  When the bag went over her head, she started to thrash about, screaming loudly. In the distance, she could hear Sean and Will stirring in the camp, roused by her cries. She screamed again, louder this time, trying to give them some sort of warning about what was happening.

  "Where are the others?" the man holding her demanded. He had a thick, southern Lamonte accent. Janice felt a little bit of hope in her heart. They hadn't gone to the main camp yet. Sean and Will were still safe for the moment. They'd find the camp easily enough, that was true, but they weren't there yet. Her boys would have time to escape.

  "Where are they?" the man asked again. Janice couldn't see the blow coming because of the sack over her head, but suddenly her face exploded in pain. She cried out again, praying Sean and Will would just get out and go. She didn't know how many men there were holding her, but she certainly didn't want to risk their lives. She wanted them to get as far away as they could.

  "I think I see something," another voice rang out, "Look, over there, in the distance."

  Janice shook her head, despite the ringing in her ears. She swallowed thickly and then cried out, "They're going to kill you, you know!"

  There was another explosion of pain. This time, she tasted blood. Her lip had split. She swallowed it, and grimaced. The voice warned her, "If you don't have something to say, then keep your mouth shut, bitch. Got it?"

  Janice didn't get it. "They'll kill you," she repeated angrily. "You and all of your men."

  This time, the blow was hard enough that she felt herself starting to sink away into blackness. "Get out," she whispered through her bloodied mouth, as darkness started to take over. She thought of Sean, and of Will, and repeated the sentiment as she faded away. "Just go. Run."

  When Janice woke, her wrists were bound to a pole behind her. The first that came to mind was when she'd found Lieutenant Alice Cori in this exact same position. The woman had been dead, though. For a split second, she was
overwhelmed by loss. It was so easy to forget the individuals that had been killed along the way. Now she thought of all of them.

  They flashed through her mind in quick succession. Matilyn. Cori. Ryan Mattheus. Lund. Eldrin. Kierr. Sasha. All of the men who'd gone to battle with her when she and Sean had been taken. Her stomach lurched. She blinked away the tears and the thought of the dead and forced herself to take stock of her situation.

  The pole she was bound to was in the middle of a camp. It was a rather small one; scouting unit, she assumed. They'd probably been traveling back to a larger division when they'd come on her. She cursed her bad luck.

  "We didn't find your friends," the voice snapped her attention to her left. A tall grey-haired soldier knelt down beside her. He reminded her of Rafinnel. Well, sort of. He wasn't nearly as imposing. It was as if he was almost Rafinnel.

  Janice said nothing, though she had to refrain from a giggle. It wouldn't help her situation any if she laughed at this man.

  "So who are you?" Almost-Rafinnel asked. "What are you doing out here?"

  "You'd like to know," Janice said. She knew whatever she said wouldn't do any good. She had no real reason to try and invent a story.

  "I would," Almost-Rafinnel agreed, "You're going to tell me, isn't that right?"

  Janice smiled. It hurt her face to do so, but she made sure it was a wide, toothy grin nonetheless. "I'm your sister," she said, "Don't you remember? You fucked me last night while daddy was with mom, out on the town. Should have let me put some lipstick on first."

  Almost-Rafinnel stood up, disgusted. Janice made panting noises up at him, "You were actually pretty damned good."

  "I would have been nice," Almost-Rafinnel said, "but it's clear you're not willing to work with us. So I'm going to get our man who's specialized in making women like you talk. Then we'll see what you have to say about who you are and what you're doing out here."

  Janice considered as Almost-Rafinnel strode off. It might be that he really didn't know who she was. Or he might. He could just be trying to force her to admit it. But he could try all he wanted. She made a vow she wouldn't tell them anything at all. It wouldn't matter what she did, she'd keep her silence. If this man didn't know she was Janice Akins, she certainly wasn't going to tell him.

  All of that was besides the point, though. The man reason for her silence was fairly simple: these men were the enemy and you never gave the enemy anything. Not a single inch. Otherwise, well, they might just take a mile.

  Almost-Rafinnel led a man back over to Janice. This one was shorter and carried more weight around the waist. Janice thought he looked rather like a donut. Donut squatted down in front of her, letting out a sigh as he did so, wiggling a bit to get comfortable on the ground.

  "My superior officer tells me you have a bit of a mouthy problem," Donut said, eyeing Janice. "He just has a few questions. Nothing hard. You offended him though, so I'm going to ask them instead."

  Janice just looked at him. Donut didn't look that surprised. "Get my supplies," he said to Almost-Rafinnel. The officer nodded, walking away after giving Janice a dark look. In a response, she blew a kiss that way.

  "See," Donut said, "That's the kind of thing that doesn't earn you friendship points around here. I'm going to ask what your name is."

  "Fuck off," Janice suggested mildly.

  "Why are you out here, Fuck-Off?" Donut asked.

  Janice shrugged, "I was trying to find someone to buy the cookies I baked. I thought I could take the coin to the corner store, maybe get myself a kitty."

  Donut tilted his head. The roll of fat beneath his chin jiggled, "Do you think this is some kind of joke?" he asked.

  "You're a joke," Janice said, "Look at you. You're too chubby for the Guard. How is that you keep up? Do they carry you?"

  Almost-Rafinnel rejoined them, dropping a dark-leather bag at Donut's feet, "This, right?"

  Donut nodded. "You don't need to stay here for this, sir. I can handle it."

  "Are you sure?" Almost-Rafinnel asked. "She seems like she might be a tricky one."

  "I'll be fine," Donut assured him. The other man hesitated and then walked away again.

  "Third time's the charm," Janice said in a sing-song voice.

  Donut raised an eyebrow at her, "Third time?"

  "That's the third time he's walked away," Janice said, "Means he'll lose his head this time. Maybe his tongue instead. I wouldn't mind. He doesn't have a pleasant voice."

  Donut sighed at her and then unzipped the bag at his feet. He glanced inside for a long moment and then selected several long, thin, metal sticks. They'd been pressed so they were as flat as a sheet of paper. The thinness coupled with the length caused them to be flexible.

  "I'm going to ask you again," Donut said, "What your name is. I want you to tell me what your name is. Go on now. You can do it."

  Janice eyed the flat, thin rods for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders. "I told you already. You know what? Fuck you."

  Donut nodded, almost pleasantly. He grabbed one of Janice's feet, popping the shoe off. She stared at him, wide-eyed, as he pulled the sock off after.

  "What is your name?" Donut asked, pulling her foot atop his knee. He put his palm on her ankle, holding it firmly in place.

  Janice hesitated and then repeated, "Fuck you!"

  Donut picked up one of the metal rods with his free hand. He shook his head at her, almost apologetically, and then shoved the metal rod up underneath her large toenail, between the nail itself and the skin beneath it, ripping the two apart. He stopped when it was four centimeters in.

  "What is your name?" he asked once Janice's scream of pain had died down. "I have plenty of these."

  Janice glared at him, her breathing heavy. She mustered up all the moisture in her mouth and then spat forward, onto him. Donut shook his head and picked up another rod.

  Janice felt the sweat dripping off her face. She let her body hang forward, trying to ignore the pain in her feet. They felt like they were on fire. Donut had not relented until he'd finished all ten of her toes.

  He'd gotten up and told her he was having a lunch break, "Don't worry," he promised. "I have enough left to handle your fingers too. They won't feel left out."

  She felt as though she should cry again. She'd screamed and cried and thrashed about while he was implementing the rods as a new part of her body structure. Now, though, her eyes were dry. She breathed in deeply, trying to focus.

  She wondered what Sean and Will were doing. They'd probably left. She hoped they had. She didn't want to risk either of them going through this. Growing up without friends had left her lonely. Then she'd met Sean, and she'd joined the Arinford Guard. She'd made good friends, real friends, and she'd realized she never wanted anything to happen to them.

  Of course, that wasn't possible. There was a war going on. Things were going to happen. People were going to get hurt. That didn't make it easier, but it was true. They all had things they needed to do, and most of those things were dangerous work. She couldn't imagine her Sean, though, her beautiful Sean getting injured in this way. Or Will. The prince was young, and darling. He was intelligent, strong, fast, and most importantly, he was kind. Something like this could break his kind spirit. She didn't think she could stand that thought.