Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  But you are today’s champion, Louis thought. Selen washed the blood from his breastplate. “I will come with you. You should check where your tent is while I clean my armour. Talk with Faremanne. Find out what kind of knight he is. If we are to stay here, we need allies.”

  Louis got up and made for the tent opening.

  “Louis,” Selen called out to him. “Watch out for this Segar.” Louis saw that his friend was worried about him.

  “I will.”

  Louis got out and went in search of his tent. Logically, it should not be too far from the headquarters and be of the same size as the one he had left. He wandered around among the tents. Once again he had to face the same scenes of debauchery and laxity. All this was beyond all comprehension. He could not wait to talk to Bertrant. He soon got tired of walking in circles and asked a soldier.

  Faremanne’s tent stood only a few yards away from the headquarters. It had a green flag on the top, tied to the main pole. Two guards stood on both sides of the entrance. Louis got in. Faremanne sat by the only table, reading papers. “Do you need two guards?” Louis asked.

  “One I use for my errands, the other one is for dissuasion,” Faremanne answered, his eyes still fixed on his papers.

  “Dissuasion? Against your own men?” Louis hoped he had heard wrong.

  “We have had some…incidents, with some drunkards. Nothing serious,” Faremanne said placidly.

  “In your own tent?” Louis nearly shouted. This place was a nightmare. “And you don’t mind?”

  Faremanne put down his papers. He turned his face to Louis. The man looked exhausted and desperate. “Of course I do,” he said. He rose and walked towards Louis. Standing in the opening of the tent, Faremanne gazed at the camp. “Do you know how many captains there are in this army? Four. Do you know how many care to win the war? One. Me.”

  Louis felt pity for the man. He sounded sincere. “And what of Bertrant? He seems to be a good man,” Louis asked.

  “He is. But the commander has been through a lot. We have lost many battles, sometimes against ourselves.” Faremanne looked at him with dismay. “If you are willing to help us, please stay.”

  “If Bertrant lets me stay, we will be two who care.” Louis hoped that he sounded comforting. He turned towards his bed. “But this will mean changes,” he added. Louis lay down on the furs. He needed some rest before the dinner.

  Louis woke up. He felt pain in his back. Why on earth do I need to sleep with my armour on? he thought. Faremanne stood on the side of the bed.

  “Your friend is there,” he said. Louis remembered their dinner with Bertrant. He got up and walked out.

  Selen waited for him outside. His armour shone. “Nice work,” Louis complimented him.

  “It took time. That fat man had a lot of blood in him,” Selen said with a wry smile. “I will go to the infirmary tomorrow. Did you manage to talk to Faremanne?”

  “Only a few words. The man is on our side. However, if I understood well, we have to face three captains who are not. It won’t be easy.” They headed to the headquarters. The camp on this side was quiet. They heard clamours come from the south. “I can’t wait to clean this pigsty.” Louis’s eyes narrowed.

  Selen touched his arm. “I know you want things to change, but be careful. They don’t know you, and Bertrant may take it wrong. You already have an enemy, soon it will be two more.”

  Louis saw that Selen was scared. They had slept in the wild in the fear of orcs, and now that they could finally sleep in tents, the threat had been replaced by men.

  “I will be careful. In fact, it feels as if I have done these things before. I know what I have to do.” He smiled. He had had a weird feeling of déjà vu at the sight of some scenes around him. However, in the last four years, he had never put a foot in an army camp. “Just promise me you will be careful too. Stay away from these captains. And, one more thing—” Louis paused, trying to get over the swelling in his chest “—I know it’s very hard to ask, but stay away from me unless it’s something crucial. We must not draw their attention to…what we are.” He had tried to find the best words, but Louis could see the pain in his friend’s eyes. It was as if his soul had shattered like glass. It echoed with his own sorrow. Selen should not misinterpret it. Louis needed to reassure him. “I’m not pushing you away.” He stressed his words. “I will try to have enough errands for you to keep you in my way from time to time.”

  “I understand. It’s all right,” Selen said, but his eyes could not fool Louis. “Let’s get inside now. This promises to be entertaining.”

  Bertrant sat at a large table, waiting for them. He was alone. He had changed his stained, creased doublet for a mustard-colored one with open sleeves and had a white shirt under it. Louis was pleased to see that the commander had rectified his outfit. He may even have taken a bath. The smell in the tent had not completely disappeared, but Louis could breathe without hurting his sinuses. The table had been set. The mugs and tin platters shone in the light of the candles.

  “Here you are,” Bertrant said. “I wasn’t awaiting you dressed in your armour, but I guess that you may be short of fancy clothes. We will rectify that. Please, take a seat.”

  Louis and Selen approached the table and sat on both sides of Bertrant.

  “I have to apologize. It has been a long winter, and we are short of supplies. The dinner will be frugal.”

  As Bertrant spoke, his orderly placed a large platter of roasted pheasants on the table. Louis felt his stomach rumble. It promised to be the best frugal dinner since they had eaten their last apples and cheese loaf. The orderly filled their mugs with red wine.

  “It comes from the last cask I had spared from before the war. We should savor it,” Bertrant said, studying his mug in the feeble candlelight. He turned to Selen. “I suggest we raise our mugs to the champion of the day. He offered us a good fight and rid me of a troublesome soldier.”

  Louis saw Selen disappear into his armour as a snail into his shell. “We only did what was necessary to save our lives,” Louis said.

  “And cleverly done. Now, I want to hear the truth. I know the boy is a Tyntagiel, but I can hardly believe you two are his bodyguards.” Bertrant’s tone was clear and slightly threatening. Louis opted for the truth.

  “We found the boy on our way, scavenging in the remnants of a village, and decided to take him with us. What I said about our motivation to come here was true. We have seen enough horrors. We want to fight against Agroln’s armies.”

  “Where are you from?” Bertrant asked.

  “I am from the Iron Marches, Neolerim.”

  “And you?” Bertrant turned to Selen.

  “I am from the Frozen Mountains.”

  Bertrant looked shocked. “You are from the land of the ferocious Northmen? What are those…?” As he stared at Selen’s brow and hair, Bertrant’s hand gestured around his head. “Is that part of a ritual? Are you a witch?” Bertrant leaned towards Selen with nasty eyes.

  “No! I…” Selen said. Under the table, Louis kicked him in the leg. “Yes, it’s part of a ritual. It is forbidden for the soldiers of the kingdom to cut their hair. Long hair is a sign of strength and virility. At the age of twenty-five, the king’s most valuable warriors must dye their hair and tattoo their faces. I liked the color.”

  Louis believed the last part. Bertrant swallowed the whole as his features softened.

  “Well, valuable you are, indeed,” the commander said, turning amiable again, “but this country is not your home. Why would you fight for it?”

  “Homeland is not the ground, it’s the community of affections. Each man who fights for salvation, or for the freedom of what he holds dear, defends the homeland. On my way to Trevalden, I crossed refugees fleeing the country. By fighting at your side, I am a greater patriot than they will ever be. Should every single man in Trevalden leave his house with his sword in his hand, the land would soon be saved. One can only fight for what he loves. To fight for the greater good is onl
y the consequence.”

  Bertrant stayed silent. “What do you want from me?” he said.

  “I want the total control of the camp, under your supervision. Selen and I will answer directly to you and to no one else. I want Faremanne at my side. And I want to start now.” Louis looked directly into Bertrant’s eyes. “These are my terms.”

  Bertrant put a hand to his chin, caressing his goatee. It felt like forever to Louis before Bertrant gave his answer. “So it’s all or nothing,” the man said. Louis kept his eyes riveted on him. “Then you two should hear the whole story. When King Wymar Lambelin died four years ago, a civil war was trigged by the rival families of the realm,” Bertrant said.

  The orderly brought more plates on the table. One was pikes roasted in butter, the other one contained honey cakes and poached pears. Louis reached for a pheasant leg.

  “Many died by treason or on the battlefield,” Bertrant carried on. “However, their petty quarrels were hopeless. They were all soon wiped out by the king’s counselor, Agroln, who took over the throne with the help of his army of orcs and his newborn dragon.”

  At the mention of the dragon, Louis and Selen exchanged looks. The beast was real.

  “Some of the rich lords submitted themselves and joined Agroln. Others, like me, gathered on the battlefield. We paid for it dearly.” Bertrant looked down and took a sip of wine. He sat silent for a while, lost in his thoughts.

  “How did it turn out?” Selen asked eventually, gnawing at a pheasant bone.

  “Agroln unleashed his dragon. The beast flew at us and burned all who stood in its way. The orcs finished the work. It was a bloodbath. I tried to gather the survivors, whoever they were, men who still wanted to fight and formed the Rebellion. We managed to hold the north two winters until the orcs came to us in larger numbers. The Rebellion was defeated. We are what is left of it—and not the best part. You have seen my men. I don’t need to explain further.”

  No, you don’t, Louis thought. If that was the story, then what he had seen was the result of despair more than of incompetence. Louis knew what to do. Yet, before that, he had a friend to find. “Do you have maps?” Louis asked.

  “Of course, come.” Bertrant rose, took the flask of wine in one hand, and went into the next compartment. Louis and Selen followed him.

  Maps representing Trevalden were spread out on a giant board. Wood figurines and flags symbolized strategic points. Louis discerned the Strelm River they had crossed. It ran directly into the Ebony Forest. He wondered how he would be able to find Lissandro in there. As he could not leave the camp, he hoped his friend would manage by himself for a while.

  “We are here,” Bertrant pointed on the map, south of a black dot representing Grimewallow. “Troops of orcs roam everywhere, but their headquarters is based there, at Millhaven, a hundred and fifty miles from here. All the east of the country to the south is under their control. They haven’t reached the west now, but companies of outlaws make the roads there unsafe.”

  “What is this place?” Louis asked, pointing at a city named Embermire. This place stood right south of the Ebony Forest and was the closest city to their position. “Who controls it?”

  “This is Embermire, the city of Lord Pembroke. The man is a lost cause. We should focus ourselves on the east.” Louis detected annoyance in Bertrant’s voice.

  “When was the last time you asked him for help?” Selen asked Bertrant.

  “Four years ago. But you shouldn’t—”

  “I think you should write to him. We can’t allow ourselves to be picky right now,” Louis insisted.

  Bertrant grunted. “All right, I’ll send a crow. But I warn you, this man won’t listen.”

  “I wouldn’t either if I knew what the Rebellion looks like. Soon things will be different,” Louis said.

  “I’d like to see that,” Bertrant sneered. “These men barely move to take a shit.”

  “You said that they volunteered to join the Rebellion, am I right? So what they need is motivation. They need hope.” Louis turned to Bertrant. He was their commander. He had no right to abandon his men.

  “I’m tired. I’m old. And I’m drunk. Do what you want, we will see if it works…or if they kill you,” Bertrant said with a sullen look on his face. He grabbed the flask, drank the rest of the wine, and disappeared into the other side of the tent. Louis watched him leave with surprise and disapproval.

  “He will get over it.” Selen put a hand on Louis’s shoulder. “It’s not easy for a man to accept failure.” Selen stepped back and made for the tent opening. “You got what you wanted. Now, show them.” Selen had a tired smile on his face. He went out. Louis had gotten what he wanted, indeed, but it was not without a price.

  Louis went back to his tent. Faremanne, who had been sleeping on his bed, woke up. “How was the dinner?”

  “Get up. Go to the smithy and ask for as many shovels as the man can do in one night. If he complains, have him arrested and replaced.” Louis passed in front of Faremanne and sat at the table, grabbing the papers. “Change starts now.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Selen felt a hand on his forehead. He wanted it to be Louis’s. He opened his eyes and saw Folc standing beside the bed. Sorrow tugged at Selen’s heartstrings. His friend’s words yesterday had splintered his heart. Selen was glad that Louis could put his plans for the camp into practice, but Selen knew this was not the place for him. As the new champion, he may not be killed by the soldiers. Yet, the way they looked at him was clear—even Bertrant had given him the eyes. What would be his role in such a place? He would watch over Folc. They would stay out of the way and see how things turn out.

  Besides, his health had worsened after the fight. He had felt exhausted for several days now, but yesterday, a bad, acrid taste had lingered in his mouth and his head had throbbed. Now, light hurt his eyes and he had cramps in his chest as if he needed to throw up.

  “How do you feel?” Folc asked.

  “As if I have been trampled by horses while crossing the desert.” Folc stared at him with worry. Selen found that sweet and forced himself to smile.

  “You screamed in your sleep, and your head is warm. Maybe you should rest.”

  “I probably had a nightmare again. I plan to go to the infirmary today. Could you bring me some water, please?” He rose and sat on the bed. He wore his tunic. He did not even remember having removed his armour last night. He had been so tired. Selen frowned as he felt a sharp pain go through his head. He put a hand to his forehead. It was warm, indeed. He did not know if it was because of the cut, or because he had exhausted himself these last weeks. Folc handed him a bowl of water. Selen washed his face. He noticed that men shouted outside. “How long have I slept?” he asked Folc.

  “Most of the morning,” the boy answered. “It’s almost noon.”

  So long. And the screams. Had something happened? Selen’s heart beat faster. He rose in a hurry, and his vision blurred. “Louis… I must…”

  Folc caught his hand. “It’s all right.” The boy smiled. “Look.” Folc opened a flap of the tent.

  Soldiers ran in every direction. Yet, instead of carrying swords or bows, they all carried a shovel. “What is going on?” Selen asked, dumbfounded.

  “He makes them dig.” Folc laughed.

  Selen stepped outside. He still had a terrible headache, but thanks to the fresh air, he was not dizzy anymore. He walked around in the camp. All around, men dug the mud, moving barrows of it. Some men gathered old twisted pieces of metal half buried in the ground, while others carried away old, rotten crates. The soldiers looked frightened, stressed, but no one looked gloomy anymore. He heard men shout ahead. He moved forward with curiosity.

  “And someone move that cow out of the way!”

  Selen saw Louis wade about in the mud. His black riding boots were filthy to the knees. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up his arms, and he was trying to dig a log out of the earth. Four men were around him to help, and a fifth one pushed back a co
w. The soldier slid, fell on his rump, and the cow went to brush its muzzle against one of the soldiers next to Louis. Selen tried to hold back an irresistible wish to laugh.

  “Here you are!” He heard a voice call behind him. Selen turned around. Faremanne came his way. He was gleaming.

  “What is happening here?” Selen asked.

  “Well, they’re trying to fix the fence of the cattle corral,” Faremanne answered.

  “No, I mean the whole camp.”

  “Oh, that. The men clean the alleys, dig a drain, and lay out latrines. I could not have believed it if someone had told me yesterday that this would happen. You should have heard Louis talk to the men this morning. He was so mad at first that I thought he would create a riot, but once he talked about what they had been through and what they could still achieve, they really listened to him. That and the fact that it was a shovel or the rope. Still, the men did appreciate that he grabbed one himself as well.”

  “And what of Segar?” Selen knew that changes were rarely carried by consensus.

  “We haven’t seen him today. I think he and his men will be a real challenge for Louis. They are not done yet.” The tall knight waved at some soldiers further away. “I have to go now. If you look for the infirmary, it’s that way,” he said, pointing right.

  Selen followed Faremanne’s directions. The infirmary’s tent was as large as the headquarters. Inside were rows of rudimentary beds covered with brownish bedsheets. Many beds were empty. That was a relief. At least they had no epidemic raging in the camp. The men lying there were not injured either. By what Selen saw, most suffered from malnutrition, cough, and diarrhea. Soldiers wearing long, brown cloaks acted as nurses. Selen turned to one of them. “Excuse me, I need to get some ingredients for a medicine.”

  “Brother Benedict over there can help you with that,” the man answered, pointing further away.

  Selen looked in that direction. He saw an old man in a frock sitting on one of the beds. Selen could not say if the man was bald or if he had a tonsure. As he moved closer, he saw that the man had a book open on his lap. “Brother Benedict?” he called.