Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  “Hurry!” Selen called out to them. He forced his horse to board the platform. “We need to go to the other side before more orcs find us.”

  “It won’t work,” Lissandro exclaimed. “We can’t all go aboard the ferry with three horses. The rope won’t hold.”

  “It must,” Louis replied, walking towards Lissandro. “No one stays behind.”

  “I will,” Lissandro said. He rose and looked at him. “Go first with Selen and your horses, then send the ferry back to me.”

  Louis hesitated, but he realized that Lissandro was right. The ferry was not strong or big enough to carry all of them. Selen’s horse was heavy and large, and he barely managed to have both his and Louis’s horse aboard. They had no choice. They needed the horses. Louis would have stayed behind, but he could not let Selen cross without him. He wanted to be there to protect him. His blood had run cold when he had seen his friend with the orcs last night. He would not let such a thing happen again. Selen had shown admirable capacities to fight, but he was still too imprudent. Yet, it pained Louis to leave Lissandro behind. He was his friend, too. Louis made up his mind. There was no time to ponder. They had to act now.

  “All right,” he sighed. “But you flee at the first sign of an orc. Don’t let yourself get killed.”

  Lissandro nodded. Louis turned around and headed to the ferry.

  “What is he doing?” Selen asked, checking the knots of the mounts’ bridles to the stanchions. “Lilo!”

  “He waits. We will send the ferry back once we are on the other side,” Louis said, going aboard. Selen turned towards the shore.

  “No, no… He is coming with us. We don’t leave Lilo behind.” Selen tried to go back to their friend, but Louis blocked him. “Louis, please.” Selen’s eyes were wide. Louis felt him tremble. “We can’t. He is our friend.”

  “Selen. Look at the ferry. Look at the horses. There is no place.” Selen looked around. The helplessness on his face showed that he understood. Selen shook his head in silence. “Help me pull the rope. We need to be quick,” Louis insisted.

  Lissandro stayed with his mount by the mechanism. They all heaved the ropes. The current was strong. The ferry shook in every direction. They held fast to not stumble or fall into the river. The horses were frightened and reared up. The crossing seemed to take ages, but finally, they made it to the other bank. They attached their horses to the nearest tree and ran back to send the platform back to Lissandro. They pulled with all their might on the rope. Under his gloves, Louis felt like his hands were on fire. Yet, the ferry was lighter and easier to move when it was empty. Eventually, it hit the shore on the other side.

  Lissandro took his horse by the bridle and got on board. Louis relaxed when he thought his friend was safe, and he slowed his efforts.

  The platform had reached halfway through when a group of orcs appeared behind on the beach. Louis felt his heart beat faster, but he calmed down when he realized that nothing could happen now. Louis saw the orcs approach the shore and gesticulate to each other. He could not hear what they were saying. Though he believed the danger was over, Lissandro was still on the river. They needed him by their side. The orcs had bows, and their friend was still in the shooting range. He tried to pull harder at the rope, but his hands hurt. Even if he felt agony, he kept on trying. He saw the orcs move to the mechanism. Louis realized at once what was going to happen, but he refused to believe it. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sounds came out. One of the orcs drew his sword and cut the rope. Selen shouted next to him, and Louis joined his call.

  “Grab the rope!” they both yelled to Lissandro. “Grab the rope!”

  The rope snapped and jumped in the air like a giant snake. Lissandro plunged onto the deck, with the rope in his arms. The platform spun and shook. The horse, terrified, reared up. Lissandro tried to hold on the best he could, but the current was too strong, and he had to let go of the rope.

  “No! Lilo!” Selen shouted.

  Selen hurried down the bank into the water. As fast as he could, Louis ran after him and seized him hard against him.

  “Don’t jump into the water!” he yelled. “You will drown!”

  Selen struggled, his arms still stretched out towards the ferry. With utter sadness, they watched their friend drift away with the river. Lissandro waved slowly at them as the mist closed around him.

  Selen burst into tears. Louis pulled his friend up.

  “Come. We can follow the bank,” Louis said, dragging Selen by the arm.

  The bank was a mix of old trunks, pools of water, and reeds. Louis saw that the horses would never make it, and they were forced to leave the mounts behind them. They ran through the high grass in loud splashes. Yet, the ground was so treacherous and boggy that they never managed to get close to the shore. Selen stumbled. Louis pulled him up and they kept on running. Louis’s greaves turned heavier with each step in the mud. It was foolish. Besides, they could not see the river through the mist. Lissandro may as well be a long way downstream by now. If they kept on running forward, they would lose their way and may never find the horses again.

  “Stop. It’s useless,” Louis said, short of breath and choking on his tears. He was angry at himself. It was his fault. He had left their friend behind, and now they had lost him.

  Selen turned towards him. “We can’t give up. We can’t.”

  “We will find him. I promise you,” Louis said with more anger in his voice than he would have wished. He should have listened to Selen. They should have left their friend’s horse behind. It was too late now.

  Slowly, Louis turned back to where they came. Selen pulled at his hand.

  “You won’t leave me, will you? Please, say you won’t leave me.” Selen looked at him with his swollen eyes. His cheeks were wet from tears.

  Louis stared at Selen with disbelief. How could his friend think such a thing? He took Selen’s face in his hands, his thumbs caressing his cheeks delicately. “I will never leave you. Ever. I swear it,” he said, insisting on each word. Raising his head, he kissed Selen’s forehead and hugged him fast until his friend had calmed down.

  With cautious steps, they walked back through the bog towards their horses. They mounted and turned away from the Strelm River. The road called them.

  CHAPTER 9

  Selen’s tears had dried, but he still felt a knot in his throat. “How will we find Lilo? Should we follow the river with a detour?” Selen asked. Once again, he relied on Louis to find a rational solution to their problems. If he had been alone, he would probably be among the corpses floating in the river. He admired Louis for his survival reflexes. He wondered what kind of life his friend had had before this one.

  “I don’t think it would help. We can’t wander erratically through swamps in a land at war. We need at least a map or more information,” Louis said.

  His friend had not said a word since the river. If the land swarmed with orcs, Lissandro’s chances were thin. Yet, Selen refused to give up. After all, Lissandro had made the whole way from the Windy Isles without them.

  “So, should we find a road or should we stroll around?” Selen asked. He wondered if their quest was still of any worth now that their group had been broken.

  “Let’s make it to the first hamlet. Then we will see,” Louis answered.

  The landscape on the south bank was a blend of copses and green fields of high grass, patched with wild flowers. Selen gazed at the poppies, the daisies, and the tall, blue linens growing among the wheat. The plants reminded him of his shack in the Frozen Mountains. Up there, he would have needed to wait at least two more months to see these flowers appear on the prairies. This place used to be a field once, but it had not been reaped for many years, and the vegetation had grown wild. The nature was flourishing. It was hard for him to believe that this land had suffered so much. At least, it was what he thought until they came to the oak.

  The tree stood at the corner of a forest. It was broad and its branches overhung a dirt road. The first spr
ing leaves were not completely unfolded, leaving plenty of space for the sight. Selen counted seven ropes. On each rope hung a corpse. It was hard to say if they were men or women. The clothes were rags. The decomposition was already advanced, and the crows had eaten their eyes and most of the flesh on the cheeks and noses. Pieces of bones and teeth shone white among the rotten pulp. The bodies’ bellies had been opened, leaving the intestines to hang out. The stench was obnoxious. Yet, what pierced Selen’s heart was even worse. Two corpses were a lot smaller than the others.

  “Children. They did that to children.”

  He wanted to puke. The feeling of anger he had had when facing the orcs awakened within him again.

  Louis looked at him with commiseration. “I’m sorry you have to face that. Unfortunately, this is what war looks like. I suppose it was the orcs.”

  “Then we will kill the orcs. All of them,” Selen said. He kicked his horse and passed under the tree. Louis followed him.

  A few miles ahead stood what had been a farm. “I suppose that it was where they lived,” Selen said. “Let’s have a look around. Maybe we can find some food.”

  They dismounted and attached their horses to a fence. Louis came to him. “Be careful. There may be more bodies or scavengers.” He took Selen’s hand. The touch was gentle and comforting. “Selen, remember what I said: use the hate, don’t let it destroy you.”

  The concern in Louis’s eyes was so sincere that Selen felt the need to reassure him. “Don’t worry about me. I know who I am. I just need time to get over what happened.”

  They inspected the farm. It was big with two floors and dependencies. It was made of stone and had a porch opening to the courtyard. Unfortunately, the whole place had burned. The walls still stood, but the roof had collapsed. The windows’ frames had been blackened by the flames. Half-destroyed carts and furniture stood in front of the main door. The barn still stored stacks of straw, but it was empty overall. There were no bodies or animal corpses to be seen. Whoever had done that had taken all living creatures. Selen approached the main door and tried to look inside the house. “I can see cupboards. Not everything has burned.”

  “Don’t go in there,” Louis said. “The floors may collapse on you.”

  “It’s all right. The upper floor already lays on the ground.”

  Selen crawled under the shards of the broken door and climbed over the crumbs. The debris moved under his feet. He stepped carefully on a broken beam and tiptoed to the cupboards he had noticed. He opened the first one. Empty. Selen turned to the other one. There were broken plates and papers in it, but no food. He looked around. Another door stood on his left. He pushed it but in vain. It was stuck. Something blocked the door on the other side. He took some steps backwards and threw his weight against the door. It moved a bit. Selen heard something break in the room. He repeated the operation. This time, the door flung open. Selen fell forward and landed on the floor. Pain grew in his right arm. He noticed that he had landed in something wet. The smell was unmistakable. He turned his head down.

  He lay in a pool of wine. Broken bottles were scattered on the floor. He realized that he had found the kitchen. He rose. On the table in front of him lay a block of cheese and a half-eaten piece of bread. Whether the inhabitants had been surprised at lunchtime, or someone had been standing right here a few seconds ago, he did not know. There were no dust or traces of mold on the food, so he inclined towards his second option. Selen reached for his sword and looked around. There was an opening through the wall where a window had been. He looked outside from a distance. Nothing. He packed the cheese and the bread and searched for more food. Two wine bottles were still intact. In the bottom of a trunk, he found a pot of jam and lactic-acid fermented cabbage. He considered that it was better than nothing. The other rooms were inaccessible or too dangerous to enter. He went out through the window. There was still no sign of life. He wondered if it had been a bandit or a survivor of the massacre.

  Behind the farm grew an orchard. The first flower buds had appeared on the branches. Some of the last summer’s apples were decaying on the ground. This place must have been prosperous once.

  “Did you find something?” Louis walked towards him. He had a bag on his shoulder.

  “Not something, someone. You didn’t see him?”

  “I was in the barn, and nothing came my way.” He put the bag down. “They had buried that in the hay. It’s only some vegetables and fruits but still good to eat. What did you see?”

  “Nothing. But there was someone, and he ran away.” Selen gazed around. “We should leave in case he or it comes back with a group.”

  “There is a path leading south from here. We could follow it.” Louis picked up the bag again, and they headed to their horses.

  The road south led to a forest. There were no more traces of habitations, but they found a road sign with names they did not know. They halted near the side of the road for the night, using bushes as shelter. They shared the bread, some wine, and apples. Selen was convinced that eyes were watching them. “I don’t think I can sleep,” he said.

  Louis packed the food. “Take the first shift of watch then. We keep our armours on in case someone attacks us.”

  Selen stayed awake all night and dozed off only when the first birds sang. When he woke up, the horses were packed and ready. “What was the name that stood on the road sign again?” he mumbled.

  “Grimewallow,” Louis said, stretching out his hand to help him up. “According to the number of miles on the sign, we should reach the place today.”

  Selen took Louis’s hand and rose laboriously. Louis kept his hand in his.

  “Can you stand up?” His friend smiled.

  “I’m sore all over. I’d forgotten how uncomfortable it is to sleep with an armour on,” he chuckled.

  “Wait until it rains.” Louis laughed.

  Grimewallow stood in a valley. It could have been a charming little village with its cherry trees, its little white and blue houses, and the shrubbery in front of them, if the place had not been smoking ruins. Selen and Louis came down the main road from the north. The bandits, or the orcs, had probably been there a few days ago, maybe yesterday. Smoke still rose here and there. The acrid smell burned Selen’s nose. There was blood on some of the walls. Louis stopped.

  “You don’t need to look. Keep on riding straight ahead,” his friend said, but Selen turned his head.

  The orcs had piled the bloody, naked bodies in the yard in front of the temple. The faces he saw bore a mask of torment. “Oh, hell…” he said and felt like he would throw up. Selen saw something move behind a wall. He kicked his horse and galloped after it.

  “Wait!” Louis yelled.

  Selen halted where the shadow had been. He dismounted and drew his sword. A door creaked in the house on the right. He reached the threshold and looked inside. The roof had collapsed on what had been a bed. In a corner stood a broken table and a trunk. Selen moved slowly closer to the trunk, holding his sword towards it. With one foot, he pushed the lock up, ready to run his blade through whatever was hidden inside.

  “Don’t kill me!” a high-pitched, scared voice shrieked.

  Inside the trunk hid a young boy with terrified eyes.

  “Get out of the trunk slowly and show us your hands,” Louis commanded behind him.

  The young boy rose. His dirty clothes were torn everywhere. Selen noted with bitter sadness that he was a bag of bones. Judging by the freckles on his face and his feeble build, Selen doubted that he was a survivor of Grimewallow. The boy was too young to be a bandit. The poor child was frightened and probably hungry. Furthermore, if it was him he had sensed all along, Selen had even taken his cheese and bread. He noticed that he was still pointing his sword at him and put the blade away hastily. Louis did the same.

  “What’s your name, boy?” Louis asked.

  “I… I’m… My name is Folc, my lords.”

  “We’re no lords,” Selen said. “What are you doing here, Folc? Is th
is your village?”

  “No.” He looked at them with misery. “Please, do you have food?”

  “Of course,” Selen said. “Follow us.”

  They left the house and took the boy with them, far from the macabre heap. They found a place to sit in the shade of a tree outside the village. Selen offered Folc bread, jam, and wine. The boy wolfed down the bread like a ravenous beast. Selen and Louis waited in silence while the boy ate.

  “Who are you if you’re not from this village?” Selen asked him.

  “I’m a page. At least, I was. I got lost.” Folc gazed at them with wary eyes.

  “You can’t be a page. You’re too old for that,” Louis said. “You’re at least a squire. If what you say is true.”

  “It is true,” Folc insisted. “I am a page. I used to follow Lord Unfray, but he died during the battle.” Folc looked down. “He was a good man. He treated me fairly.”

  “And how long ago was that?” Louis asked.

  “Four winters ago.”

  Selen and Louis looked at each other amazed. “The first battle against Agroln,” Selen whispered. “You have lived in the wild since then?”

  “Yes. I was afraid to be abused by the villagers or to be enslaved. Then, I was afraid to be found by the orcs. I did some scavenging…but I’m not a bandit! I didn’t hurt anyone.” Folc was shaking. Selen was pretty sure that he was not a bandit. “You are the first to find me,” Folc added.

  “You must be good at hiding,” Louis said.

  “I’ve followed you since the farm. You don’t look like the others. I thought you may be nice people, especially you,” he said, pointing at Selen. “I’m also bored of being lonely. Can I come with you?”

  Louis and Selen were taken aback. “Well, we are going south and…you’re only a young boy.”

  “I’m not a child anymore. And I can steal,” Folc said with pride in his eyes. “I could also be your page. You are knights. You need a page.”