Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  Louis took his hand and led him onto the bed, where he knelt, inviting Selen to sit in front of him. The grip on his hand made Selen understand that his friend, though calm, was eager. Selen sat and stretched his legs on each side of Louis’s waist. The tips of Selen’s fingers brushed Louis’s chest. The light touch turned into caresses. Selen felt highly aroused and dizzy at the same time and dared to touch Louis in ways he usually would blush from. He thought that it was probably thanks to the alcohol. Selen looked at Louis’s mouth. He had wanted to kiss it so many times during the day. Now, it was all his. He grabbed Louis’s soft, plump lips with his. Louis kissed him back, keeping Selen’s mouth open. His heart beat fast. Selen was about to suffocate, yet he would not break the kiss, and allowed Louis’s tongue to plunge deeper. Louis’s short nails scratched his back.

  “You’re so beautiful,” his friend whispered. Selen did not realize at once that Louis talked of him. According to everyone, he was but a freak with pale skin.

  Louis’s mouth grasped his neck, biting gently at it. He lowered his head and reached for Selen’s left nipple, playing with it with his tongue until it turned hard. Selen quivered and moaned softly. His friend’s luscious mouth could awaken sensations in his flesh that he would never have fancied. The last time must have been his first. Selen knew how to release such tension from his body, but he had never imagined it could feel that way. Should he had ever experienced such pleasure, he guessed he would have remembered it. Selen arched backwards as Louis’s hands ran down his back to his bottom. This part had been painful, however, and he was apprehensive to live it again. Selen’s fingers clenched on the sheets. The feeling of Louis’s fingers pushing their way in was still odd, nearly invasive. Still, though he needed time to adapt, he liked it, and the effects of alcohol on his mind helped. As Louis twitched his fingers, something exploded in Selen. His hips jerked, and he melted with pleasure. He looked down but he was still excited.

  “What was that?” he whispered, gaping.

  Louis only smiled at him. Selen held his breath as Louis grabbed Selen’s cheeks and carefully pulled Selen onto him. This time, Selen felt a little less pain. He tried to relax. Louis buried his face against his chest. His friend, too, needed to calm down. The pain did not last. Selen let himself fall slowly backwards on the bed. His lilac hair spread out on the covers in long arabesques. Closing his eyes in ecstasy, he let his body move as if thrust by waves on water. Under his feeble moans, he heard Louis breathe hard. Selen barely noticed the door open behind them.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Lissandro exclaimed. Selen awoke to reality in an instant. His naked body was covered by a blanket that Louis threw at him.

  “The door was unlocked,” Lissandro hissed through his teeth. He bolted the door behind him. “Beyond that door, there is not a single person who wouldn’t kill you for this,” Lissandro said, pointing at the door. “In their eyes, such inclination makes us even more disgusting than orcs.” Selen and Louis looked down. The sad, angry look on their faces showed that they knew it too well. Lissandro calmed down. “Anyway, don’t stop for me. I was going to sleep,” Lissandro said, giving a faint smile. “The horses are fine.”

  Selen watched Lissandro sit down on the bed on the other side of the room, facing the wall. The blanket was pulled off his body. Louis’s firm hands raised his hips up again. Selen bit his own lower lip as his friend took him ardently.

  Selen woke up. A pale ray of moon lit the room. It was still night outside. The mattress of hay under him was soft, and Louis’s touch was warm. He thought of getting back to sleep when he heard someone cry. He was certain that it came from Lissandro’s bed. Delicately, he moved Louis’s head and arm from his chest, trying not to wake him up. He pulled back the blankets and climbed out of the bed. Lissandro lay on the side under his blankets, facing the wall. Selen lay down beside him and hugged Lissandro’s shoulder.

  “Why do you cry?” he whispered gently.

  “I want to remember,” Lissandro muttered. “I need to. I know there is something important I should do. It came to my mind when I looked at you.”

  “Is it because of the us?” Selen asked. He had not missed Lissandro’s choice of word. He felt selfish to have showed so little consideration for Lissandro’s feelings. They had travelled with him, but they had not cared to know more about him. Selen thought that he probably was not the only one to have had a hard time for four years. He did not know how he could relieve his friend’s sadness. Comforting words could also open fresh wounds.

  “It may,” Lissandro said. “And you were right. We died. But I didn’t die alone. I can’t remember more right now.”

  “Whatever comes back to your mind, tell us. We will help. I promise you,” Selen said. “We should try to sleep now. Tomorrow is a long day.” Selen got up.

  “Selen?” Lissandro whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Selen patted Lissandro’s shoulder. He went back to his bed and curled up himself against Louis. He guessed that there would not be many taverns on the way after this one. He was determined to enjoy the warmth of his friend’s body as long as he could.

  “To go south you need to cross the Strelm River,” the villager said. “But it would be folly to go there. Not even refugees come from there anymore. Even us here in Baybarrow think of leaving our village. They’re coming, you know.”

  “Who is coming?” Louis asked. Selen saw the disapproval on his friend’s face. Louis was irritated to see all these people flee, but Selen understood that they were scared and only wanted to protect themselves. Still, he would not dare to say anything and stayed silent.

  “Bandits, monsters, the dark things from the south,” the villager answered. Selen noticed the man’s inclination to exaggerate. Yet, he was frightened. It meant that there was indeed something coming this way.

  “And how do we cross the river?” Selen asked.

  “There is a ferry two days south from here. Everything else has been destroyed or burned down to keep this side safe,” the man said.

  “And at the same time condemning many refugees to stay on the other side,” Selen said reproachfully.

  The man grunted and went back into his house.

  “Should we head south?” Selen asked. His horse pawed the ground. They had been standing in the middle of the village, questioning the inhabitants, hoping to find out more about the situation. All they had heard were rumours. No one had seen anything with their own eyes.

  “I don’t like it,” Lissandro said. “If we follow the river southwest as he said, we will ride straight towards the Ebony Forest.”

  “It’s the only path, and we have to face danger at some point,” Louis said. “Let’s go.” They turned their horses’ reins and rode towards the woods.

  “I could put a hand on some bread and cheese,” Lissandro said. “These people are in short supply of everything. I wonder what the bandits can still find here.”

  “People,” Louis said gloomily. “When there is no more food or gold, they take the people. There is never a short supply of slaves.”

  “How do you know that?” Selen asked, troubled.

  “The smugglers make them pass through the Iron Marches to the east lands. They never come back,” Louis answered.

  They reached the Strelm River in the afternoon. The river was broad. Only large ferries could cross such a flood. They rode along the shore. The sandy banks were covered with high grass and dead trunks. Pools of water lay here and there.

  “Look,” Lissandro murmured, pointing at the river. Selen saw dead bodies float among scraps. Something brown and big hit a stone and turned around, revealing the rear legs of what could have been a cow. They watched in silence and kept on moving. Selen realized that the corpses had come from upstream. It meant that the war had reached the north.

  Big, dark clouds were gathering above their heads. It would rain soon. “Should we search for some shelter?” Lissandro asked.

  “It doesn�
�t look like there is anything around here, neither a house nor a farm. Only marshes and swamps,” Selen observed.

  “If travellers used to take a ferry, there must be a road and some buildings nearby. We should search for it,” Louis said.

  A few miles ahead, they came across a small road. They concluded that, as it ran along the river, it should lead to the ferry. They followed the path.

  Uphill on the right, they saw a ruin. It could have been a stable or a shack, only three walls and a sloping roof stood left. Still, it was enough to protect them from the storm. As they dismounted and drew the horses under the roof, they heard the first raindrops hit the ground. They gathered in a corner and waited until the rain stopped.

  “We will stay here for the night,” Lissandro said. “Louis and I will go search for some dry wood while you guard the horses,” Lissandro told Selen.

  While his companions went on their way, Selen explored the place. The fourth wall of the house was only a heap of stone on the side, but smaller walls could have been remnants of other rooms or sheds. He found some objects, mostly rusty junk, and some animal bones. He turned around towards the main ruin. A noise came from the forest. Still, nothing was to be seen in the nearest bushes.

  He headed back. As he came closer to the north wall, something hit his forehead. The blow made him turn and fall backwards. His head hurt. He was bleeding. Selen saw muddy sabatons stamp near his head. Strong hands grabbed his arms and pulled him up violently, crushing his wrists together. He was face-to-face with the ugliest creature he had ever seen. It was huge, with broad shoulders covered by black plates and straps of leather. Its skin looked like dried mud. Teeth pointed out from the cracked lips. Its nose was flat and broken in many places. Shiny, nasty, black eyes looked at him from under a protruding arch of eyebrows.

  “Bring that thing to Xruul,” the creature grunted. Though it could speak, the creature could not be human, or maybe it was a degenerate race riddled with diseases. Selen had read about leprosy, but these things still had all their limbs, and it would not explain their teeth. However, as they were armed and dressed, they could not be animals.

  Selen was brutally pushed along the wall to the other side of the ruin. There stood a company of six of those creatures, all uglier than the other, but Selen recognized warriors when he saw them. One of them stepped forward. He was hairier than the others and had scars on his arms. He held a long, jagged sword in his left hand.

  “What do we have here?” he spat.

  Selen guessed the creature was the one named Xruul and was obviously their chief. Xruul raised his sword against Selen’s face. One of the creatures tied Selen’s hands with a rope in front of him, but Selen kept his eyes on the cold blade on his cheek. He sensed the blood clot on his forehead where he had been hurt. Though he was scared, he tried to hide it.

  “It was behind the ruins,” a voice behind him said. “It probably came with the horses. It looks fresh. Maybe it’s tasty.”

  Selen smelled the creature’s foul breath. He wondered with fright in which way he could be tasty. Did they plan to roast him?

  “Not now,” Xruul mumbled. “This one doesn’t look like the others. Maybe we should bring it back to the camp.” He sniffed at Selen’s face, as he winced in disgust. “But indeed, it’s fresh.” Xruul slid a hand between Selen’s legs, up against his crotch. Twisting his hips, Selen tried to free himself at once from the repulsive, obscene touch.

  “Male,” Xruul said, removing his hand. “Argh, it doesn’t matter. It’s ages since we have seen a village. This one will do. We can have some good time with it before we head back,” the creature grinned. Selen heard the others cackle. He dreaded to understand their insinuations. It could not be true. It was not happening.

  “Bend him over this dead trunk,” he heard Xruul say.

  No, it was happening. Selen was terrified. He searched everywhere for a glimpse of his companions. They must be around. He struggled under the grip of his captors, but the two creatures holding him were strong.

  They dragged him to the log. One of the creatures pushed his back, and Selen fell on his knees. His hands were pulled hard forward from the other side of the tree, forcing him to stretch out on the trunk. Xruul bent over him, his weight crushing his back.

  “Now, I’ll enjoy this juicy creature. Then, it will be my men’s turn,” Xruul whispered in his ear. A long, stinking, wet tongue licked Selen’s face, leaving drops of slime that dribbled on his cheek.

  Selen wiggled to escape, but his hands and legs were held fast. Rage and hatred grew inside him. At that moment, he hated his own weakness. It was not him. He had been beaten up many times, but that could not be. Selen wanted to scream. Hands grabbed at his pants. He sensed something warm and sticky land on his face. He looked up.

  The creature holding him had an arrow through his throat. Blood gushed from the wound. Selen could move his hands again. He threw himself forward, grabbed the dead creature’s dagger, and cut his ties. He heard screams and shouts. Arrows flew over him. A severed head bounced against his feet. He looked up. Louis pulled his sword out of one of the creatures’ thorax, pushing on the thing’s belly with his foot.

  Selen seized a sword from one of the corpses and made his way to Xruul. Some creatures tried to engage him, but he cleared them out with single, powerful counterstrikes. Xruul charged him recklessly, putting all his weight into his attack. Selen hopped to the right, parried his blow and the next one coming from the left. Xruul moved to the side and aimed for Selen’s legs. Selen twisted backwards and jumped over the blade. He landed, a knee on the ground, and chopped Xruul’s sword hand. The creature shrieked. Selen rose, looked into the eyes of Xruul with fury, and pushed his sword through his bowels. He pulled the sword out and hammered the creature’s head with the pommel.

  “I am not a victim!” Selen yelled, smashing Xruul’s head into pulp.

  “No, you’re not!” Louis shouted at Selen angrily, seizing him by the shoulders. “You are a warrior, an excellent warrior. But you will be a victim if you don’t start to fight back!”

  “Let me go!” Selen yelled back and freed himself from Louis’s grip. “I’ve seen what war does to men. I don’t want to be full of hate!”

  “You need hate to fight, but you must learn to canalise it,” Louis said more calmly. “Not like that.” He pointed at the mashed head. “You have to protect yourself. I need to know you will be all right.” Selen felt the worry in his voice.

  “Am I a burden?” Selen murmured, feeling sorry.

  “Only if you don’t react,” Louis sighed. “Now, go see to the horses. We’re leaving.” He turned away and left.

  Selen looked at the carnage around him. He had acted like a fool, not really aware that such things could happen. Once again, Louis was right. Selen was angry at himself. He had yelled at his friend, when Louis had only been worried about him. Without Louis and Lissandro, he would be seriously wounded by now.

  He hurried to the ruins. His companions were saddling their horses. Selen touched Louis on the shoulder. His friend turned around.

  “I’m sorry,” Selen said, looking down. “Forgive me. I should not have yelled.”

  Louis put a hand against Selen’s face. He smiled. “Come, we need to go.”

  “I’ve saddled your horse, Selen,” Lissandro said with a friendly tone.

  “Thank you.” Selen got on his horse. They rode back to the road and trotted away.

  “What were those things?” Selen asked.

  “Orcs,” Louis answered.

  Selen shivered. So those creatures were orcs. If they were the same creatures that they saw in their dreams, then there were thousands of them waiting down south. “What were they doing so far up north?” he asked.

  “The Ebony Forest. They are coming through it,” Lissandro said. They all felt silent.

  They arrived to where the ferry stood. They had departed from the ruin at dusk. It was pitch black now. They could only guess where they were by the shape of the c
abin near the river.

  “We better make no noise and no fire and wait until dawn. Let’s hope they don’t trace us here,” Louis said. “Lilo, check the cabin,” he demanded.

  Lissandro opened the door of the shack and looked inside. “It’s empty and large,” he answered promptly.

  “Good, put the horses in it. At least no one will hear them. We will sleep in front of the door and keep guard,” Louis carried on.

  Lissandro took the horses inside the cabin and closed the door. They gathered and sat in front of the door, swords in hand, ready to jump up and charge at the first suspicious sound. They barely slept at all that night.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dawn came. The place where they had slept was half covered in the mist growing from the river. They still sat tucked against each other, their backs against the door of the cabin. Their swords had slipped out of their hands and lay on the ground between them.

  Louis shook his companions. “Selen, Lilo, wake up.” While his friends opened their eyes and stretched, Louis rose and looked around.

  The ferry was a long platform of wood with strong metal rings attached on one side. It could be towed by a mechanism of pulleys and ropes passing through the metal rings and attached on the other bank of the river.

  Louis gazed at the river. The trees on the shore on the other side were silhouetted through the thick, misty cloud. The distance seemed reasonable, but he was worried about the flood. The current looked strong. He hoped that the ferry would not shake too much during the crossing.

  “Let’s fetch the horses,” he said, turning to his friends.

  Lilo stood by the mechanism and controlled the ropes. He tugged at a rope, scratched a nail against it, and frowned. Louis did not like the look on Lissandro’s face.

  Selen still stood near the cabin and stared at the road. He turned, opened the door, and went in. He led the three horses out of the cabin and led two of them to the ferry with haste.