Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  “If I leave my city to its fate, it’s my people who will die,” Pembroke sighed. “Is it what you want?” He turned his dark eyes on Louis.

  “If you drain your city from all your soldiers, your folk will have provisions for a year. Who knows what can happen by then? Your walls are sound and high. Your people will defend themselves. Bandits won’t take such a place, and orcs are far.”

  “Have you ever seen a battlefield once in your life, young man?” The count puffed with anger.

  “I have.” For a reason he could not explain, Louis knew that he had, and his words were filled with sincerity. “I know we may all die in horrible pains, but is the survival of our people not worth it?”

  Lord Pembroke stayed silent. “How many men do you have?” he inquired.

  Louis knew it was their biggest weakness. “A thousand.”

  The count chuckled. “It’s suicide.”

  “No. It’s courage.” Louis stared at Pembroke. He thought of Bertrant, Faremanne, and how hard the men had worked these last days. There was hope. “We don’t fight for Bertrant. We fight for Trevalden, for the people. We want to live. But we need to be united to win back our land,” Louis said.

  Pembroke turned to Louis and gazed at him. “Give me until tomorrow. You will have my final answer in the morning.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Louis and Selen bowed and took their leave.

  The captain came back and showed them to their rooms. Selen’s room was situated right under the solar and Louis’s room was a floor under.

  “You really don’t trust us,” Louis said when he saw that two guards stood on each side of his door. Selen had not had that privilege. “Should we consider ourselves your prisoners?”

  “Not at all,” the captain said. “You are free to walk inside the castle and through the city. It is only a precaution we take with all our guests, for their own safety.”

  Louis did not detect a threat in the man’s voice, but he did not believe him either. He entered his room. It was comfortably furnished with a heavy bed covered with wool blankets, a table near a wall, and a small fireplace on the other side. Faded tapestries hung at the windows.

  Louis removed his armour and opened his black jerkin. He stretched his arms. His muscles were sore. He reached for a carafe, filled a bowl with water, and washed his face and neck. Drops of cold water dribbled under his shirt. He looked through the window at the city down under. It hasn’t turned out that badly, he thought. They were still alive. The man had not been the coward he had imagined. He reminded him of Bertrant. Same age, same delusion in the eyes. They probably had fought together and chosen different paths. It would be such a waste if the man should come with a negative answer tomorrow. They desperately needed seasoned knights that they could trust.

  Louis heard the door open behind him. He turned and saw Selen enter the room. He had removed his armour and wore a plain, lace-up tunic. Silently, his friend locked the door behind him and came forth.

  “I admire you. It was very brave to face that man as you did. I hope he will be as convinced as I was.”

  Louis smiled. “That we will see tomorrow when…”

  Selen pressed his lips on his. “You can’t imagine how many times I wanted to do that,” his friend whispered. His arms around Louis’s neck, Selen covered his face with kisses. Louis knew too well how much he had missed him and held him tight.

  “I’m sorry I have to act so cold,” Louis murmured. He kissed Selen. His friend’s tongue tasted of cinnamon. Selen’s hand firmly grasped his crotch and kneaded it. Louis gasped. He felt his member stir. A bolt of desire invaded his body, but he remembered the guards. “We can’t. There are guards,” he breathed.

  “I don’t care,” Selen responded, nibbling at his ear. “We will have to be quick. I won’t wait more weeks.” If Selen did not stop at once, Louis was not sure he could hold back either.

  Selen knelt down and pressed his mouth against the bulge in Louis’s crotch, grabbing at him through the cloth. As Selen’s tongue searched between the laces, one of his hands rubbed between Louis’s legs. Louis put a hand against Selen’s head to stop him, but he pulled him closer instead, running his fingers through the long hair. He gasped for air, and his hips twitched. He had never seen his friend so lustful, Selen, who had been so shy, so lovely. He pushed Selen back slightly to look at him.

  “What happened to you?” he asked, confused.

  Selen blushed and Louis was relieved to see again the man he knew. “I missed you,” Selen cooed.

  Louis smiled. Now, he lusted for him. “All right, but quick,” he breathed.

  With haste, Selen unlaced Louis’s pants and threw his mouth on him. Louis’s heart hastened as his friend pleasured him with enthusiasm, his long fingers rubbing him. Selen’s mouth was warm and wet, his tongue quite skilled, though it was his first time. It felt wonderful. Louis saw Selen move his hand from Louis’s thighs and caress his own crotch. The vision turned him on, but Louis did not want it that way. He wanted to be with Selen, to please him.

  He pulled Selen up, plunged his tongue into his mouth before he turned him around. He tugged at his friend’s tunic and undressed him with impatient hands. Selen pressed himself against him.

  “Caress me,” Selen whispered.

  He took Louis’s hands and rubbed them on his chest and down his abs to his crotch. Louis tugged on the ropes and slipped a hand inside Selen’s pants. Selen was stone hard. Louis wrapped his hand around him and stroked him. His teeth nibbled at Selen’s earlobe through his hair and grazed down to bite smoothly at Selen’s warm neck. His friend had refreshed his face, but his body smelled of sweat from the trip. Small, sticky beads trickled on Louis’s fingers. Selen stifled a moan. It only intensified Louis’s own urge.

  He bent Selen gently over on the table and pulled down Selen’s pants. Kneading his firm buttocks, he gazed at his friend’s slightly muscular shoulders, his stretched and supple, pale back with his long, beautiful hair falling loosely on it. Louis’s heart fluttered. Selen raised his hips, waiting, craving. Louis put one hand on his mouth, then slipped it between Selen’s cheeks. Selen gasped as the fingers plunged into him to the last knuckle. As Louis shifted them, he watched the features on Selen’s face contract with delight. When he knew he would not hurt his friend, Louis stopped his thrusts and removed his hand. He placed his erection between Selen’s cheeks and bit his lip at the sight.

  “Don’t moan,” Louis whispered as he pushed himself slowly inside Selen. He pressed his hips against Selen’s and sipped the air as his loins combusted. Selen clenched his jaws and frowned. The table shook when Louis took him. Selen panted, gasping for air. His nails scraped at the wood. Sweat pearled on his tensed face. Louis held Selen’s cheeks harder, increasing the pace of his pounding. It was selfish, but he could not help it. He too had waited long for this moment, and the feeling of Selen clamped on to him was rapturous. He heard the frantic beating of his heart under the clapping noise of their flesh.

  Louis could not hold it any longer. He pulled at Selen’s arms. Selen’s spine arched as he rose to meet him. Louis pressed his mouth to his left shoulder to stifle his moans when he felt his body climax. As the fire in his loins left his body, he collapsed with Selen on the table. He turned Selen around and knelt between his open legs, one arm wrapped around one of Selen’s thighs. Louis had yearned for the occasion to make his friend feel good. He knew he could do better and would make this part mind-blowing. Selen brushed Louis’s hair back from over his face. As Louis finished him off with his mouth, Selen’s fingers contracted on his head like claws. Louis knew Selen did not attempt to control him but only needed the grip. His hold was gauche and instinctive. Louis felt Selen’s blood throb. Soon, his friend’s body was overwhelmed with spasms. Louis closed his eyes and received him. His throat tightened. Above him, he heard the stifled moans turn into heavy breathing as Selen calmed down. Licking his salty, reddened lips, Louis got up. He hugged Selen dearly against him, his face buried in his
friend’s neck and hair. “Don’t leave,” Louis whispered.

  “You know I have to, but keep holding me tight,” Selen answered, his fingers clenched on Louis’s back.

  Louis would have liked to hold him forever. Inside the camp, they could barely be seen talking. Louis did not allow himself any physical contact with his friend in case it would betray them. He could not let his feelings get in the way of his engagements. He fought for freedom, for their lives. He needed to stay concentrated, but above all, he needed the respect of his men, of everyone. His command must be unquestionable, should they admire him or fear him. No one must know. Therefore, he imposed severe rules on himself and wore his coldness as a mask, as a defense, and he was good at it. That was why he preferred the battlefield. Coldness was strength. In Neolerim, his aloof behavior to protect his privacy had been interpreted as puritanism, and criticism had flown. However, Louis had been alone in the Iron Marches. Now things were different. There were feelings under the mask, and sometimes, he would bear it as an iron maiden.

  Despite the long journey they had made, Selen’s hair smelled of honeysuckle. Louis let his mind flow. He did not know how long it would be before they could hold each other again. A week? A month? Maybe never, should they die in battle. It was not about lust. Of course, Selen’s perfect body aroused him, and many nights he had caressed himself fantasizing about Selen on his bed of furs. No, it was stronger than that, and he knew that Selen waited for a sign. Still, he could not acknowledge his feelings as long as he did not remember who he had been. He needed to feel whole first. The last thing he wanted was to deceive his friend.

  “I had a dream again,” Selen murmured. “I remember more about me. I had feelings for someone, but…I was a virgin.”

  Louis kissed the side of his head. Don’t make things even harder, Selen, he thought. “I think you should get dressed. It has been too long already,” he whispered. Selen looked at him with his puppy, emerald eyes. He got off the table, used one of the towels on the board, and put his clothes on. They had a last kiss. Louis’s fingers caressed Selen’s face. “However cold I may be in public, never forget these moments.”

  Selen smiled. “I will be strong, for you. We will win this war,” Selen said before he left. The oaken door closed behind him.

  Selen’s gentle smile lingered in front of Louis’s eyes. As they fluttered, his lashes turned heavy with beads of tears.

  In the morning, they entered the great hall again. The count was in a vivid discussion with his captain. He sent him away at their arrival. He took an eternity to walk to his chair, rectifying a decoration, poking into the fire. Louis’s anxiety grew as his patience ran low. At last, Pembroke turned to them.

  “I have considered your request. Leaving my city. It is a big sacrifice you ask of me.” He paused, scratching his beard. “It will take me a few weeks to gather all my troops.”

  Louis closed his eyes with relief. It had worked. “Thank you, my lord,” he and Selen exclaimed.

  “But I have terms,” Pembroke went on. “First, I won’t fight under Bertrant’s orders, but as his equal. Secondly, while I call the banners, you will free Millhaven.”

  Louis was aghast. “Free Millhaven?” He could not have heard right.

  “I don’t doubt you are brave. Show me the power of your convictions.” The count was resolute.

  Louis had been caught in a trap forged by his own eloquence. Should he refuse, his words would lose all their worth. However, the man’s tone showed no mischief. He meant to test them. If that was the price for his alliance, they would pay it.

  “In the name of the Rebellion, I agree to your terms, my lord.” He hoped Bertrant would not kill him for that.

  “Then I hope we will meet again on the south road in a few weeks.”

  The count made a sign with his hand to mark the end of their discussion. Louis and Selen took their leave and left the great hall. Captain Raolin waited for them outside the room.

  “I will show you out. Your men have been informed of your departure and should be waiting in the yard,” the captain told them, leading the way.

  “Before we leave Embermire, there is a favour I would like to ask you,” Louis said.

  “Yes?” Raolin halted and turned towards him.

  “Our friend has been missing for some days now, and we have every reason to believe that he may be lost in the Ebony Forest. We would greatly appreciate if you could spread flyers through the city,” Louis said.

  “I understand. Yet, between the bandits and the fact that the Ebony Forest is a cursed place, I would not put my hopes too high if I were you. Still, we can spread the word and a description through the taverns. Come with me.”

  Louis and Selen followed Raolin to the guardroom. Halberds and crossbows hung on racks. Soldiers dressed in mails ground their weapons while others sitting on benches played cards over a stained table. Raolin went to a desk and drew a quill, ink, and paper.

  “How does your friend look like?”

  “I can write down his description,” Louis proposed. Raolin handed him the quill. Louis wrote what he hoped to be a faithful description of Lissandro. He did not forget to mention his armour. Every detail could help. “You can offer the reward you judge sufficient. We will pay.” Once he was done, he held back the paper. Raolin hailed one of his men.

  “Have this paper copied and spread through the city at once,” the captain said to his soldier. The man took the paper and left the room. Raolin turned to them again. “May I know how a man of the Rebellion ended in the Ebony Forest? It is not exactly near your camp.”

  “One of our missions took a wrong turn, and Lissandro drifted on the Strelm River,” Louis replied. Actually, it was the truth.

  “Well, let’s hope your friend can make it out of there alive. I have heard that some groups of orcs wander through the forest now. However, in a few hours, many people will go in search of him in hopes of a reward, including the multitude of bandits prowling around.”

  “We thank you for your help.” Louis nodded with gratitude.

  They left the guardroom and followed Raolin to the yard. The soldiers of the Rebellion waited for them. Their horses were brought forth progressively in the courtyard. It took around an hour until every man stood on his mount. Louis could not wait to leave Embermire. The journey back to the camp was long, and they would soon have to make all the preparations for the army to journey south. The doors of the castle opened. They kicked their horses forward into the city.

  Slowly, they rode down the crowded main street to the city gates, Pembroke’s guards opening the way.

  “Do you think he sent us to our deaths on purpose?” Selen had been morose all morning. Louis did not think his friend would have approved his decision on those terms.

  “I can understand that a lord of such a rank needs more than words from young knights like us. Theoretically, we are not even knights.”

  “He could have asked for the leadership, a promise of reward, not sending a thousand men against a stronghold held by orcs.” The irritation in Selen’s voice was tainted with fear. Louis searched for words to bring his friend some comfort.

  “I do believe in miracles. Such improbable victories have happened before. I read it in books.” He tried to smile, but his heart failed him.

  “Louis,” Selen muttered. They looked at each other. “I am scared to death, I won’t deny it, but I trust you. If you say we can do it, then we will.”

  Louis did not speak, but he hoped that Selen could at least read his words in his eyes.

  CHAPTER 21

  The city gates surroundings were crowded with folk. The flow of refugees coming from the countryside mixed with the mass of Embermire’s inhabitants returning home. Everyone wanted to go in, while only a few pushed their way to leave the city. The guards shouted orders to keep the newcomers in a line and did not hesitate to drive back the more insistent travellers. There was no panic on the people’s faces, but dismay and confusion floated in the air. If they had n
ot sat in the wagon, Lissandro was sure that the children and their mother would have been trampled. Kilda made a place for the wagon. She sat beside him on the bench. She had thrown an ample cloak over herself and had the hood hanging over half of her face. Her womanly features could lure the guards. Lissandro had been forced to remove his mail. His dirty clothes made him look miserable enough to pass unnoticed.

  The streets of Embermire were as populous as the gates. With the high houses on both sides, it felt like maneuvering down a bottleneck. Though the colorful walls were relatively clean, the stench of so many people jammed together was strong. Lissandro wondered how they did not already have had an epidemic. He wanted to be out of the city as soon as possible.

  Kilda reined in. They halted near a tavern. “I will ask if there’s an infirmary somewhere. Don’t move,” she said.

  Lissandro knew she was still angry with him and that the place made her feel unsafe. He could have run. Kilda had made him swear to follow her orders, but he would probably die if he kept on moving south with her. Yet, he thought that his life was not less at risk in this city. He had no idea where Embermire was, and he had no money. It was not good to be a beggar in a place like this. In a time of crisis, justice tended to be expeditious. He had no wish to play the scapegoat.

  He looked around him. The street stretched forward in a semicircle following the ramparts on the right. This side was a line of shops and taverns. A larger street opened on his left. He saw the flow of people walking to and from the main street. He heard shouts ahead over the hurly-burly of the city life. Orders. The population was pushed aside on the main street. More people surged in his direction. Soon it would be easier to walk on people’s heads than on the pavement.

  He heard a wave of horse’s hooves clapping on the cobbles. An army of mounted soldiers rode down the main street. Some men carried blue standards. Lissandro’s eyes opened wide. He knew the man riding in the distance. There could only be one person in the whole of Trevalden with that hair color.