“And here lies the island,” Selen said, pointing at a long rock on their side of the lake.
“The island?” Faremanne turned to him, disconcerted. Louis noticed he had forgotten about Faremanne.
Selen shrank. “We may have something to do on that rock,” he muttered.
“The boy has learned about an artifact that may help against the dragon. The object should be on the island,” Louis resumed. “It was on our way.”
“And you planned this expedition behind my back all these days? I’m very disappointed in you all,” Faremanne scolded.
“Behind your back and behind Bertrant’s,” Louis added.
“Damn, Louis! Maybe he really will hit you this time,” Faremanne still fumed.
“He can’t. I’m his captain,” Louis retorted, “and there are rules. No one hits a soldier or a superior.”
“Your rules, his army,” Faremanne objected. “And you know the man, short fuse.”
“He doesn’t need to know. No one needs to until we find something. While the army camps along the shore for the night, we sail to the island, check the place, and come back as if nothing happened,” Louis insisted.
“As if nothing happened?”
“We don’t even know if this artifact exists. We don’t want to spread false hope. What do you say?” Louis asked with an appealing look.
“All right, but I’m coming with you.” Louis grasped by Faremanne’s look that it was his final word.
They trotted back to the column of soldiers. Louis and Faremanne hailed the lieutenants. Louis rode to the ones at the head of the column.
“Settle camp on the prairie to the west of the lake. Make sure food is distributed to everyone and that they dig the trench,” Louis commanded. Louis had insisted that they dig latrines wherever they stayed. He had been so upset by the terrible hygiene in the camp that one of his first rules had been related to the sanitation. He still thought that he would kill on sight the first man he saw defecate near someone else’s sleeping place.
The army reached the prairie, and everyone bustled about his tasks, whether it was to gather wood or to groom the horses. Because of the fine weather, they had never lost time building the tents, except the headquarters. The men slept wrapped in their blankets, and campfires were lit among the groups.
Louis left his horse with the others and walked through the camp. The men relaxed on the grass, massaging their sore legs or backs. The captains had made sure not to exhaust the men with long walks on the hot, dusty roads. Louis could see that, as a result, no one complained about their conditions. The men shared jokes, played, or polished their weapons. A light soup of nettles and ramsons with a loaf of bread was served. Louis spotted Selen by one of the huge cauldrons. His friend, with the help of an orderly, filled the soldiers’ bowls. This was a task way below his status. Louis headed towards Selen to stop him, but the look of gratitude on the soldiers’ faces made him change his mind. Louis watched Selen exchange a word or a smile with the soldiers. He would have a word with his friend, but he would not scold him or ruin his efforts to mingle with the men. Selen had probably acted spontaneously. The status of captain had fallen like a burden on Selen’s shoulders. To ease his task, Louis had not entrusted him responsibilities others than to walk at the front of a company or give a few orders here and there. If Selen wanted to help out at the camp, as long as it was not degrading activities, he would let him. Louis approached the group of men waiting for their meal around the cauldron.
“Do you have a bowl for me, Captain?” Louis asked, half smiling. Selen’s lips turned white as he bit on them.
“Of course,” Selen whispered.
“You should take one for yourself as well and follow me. We have a mission to do, if you remember,” Louis said. The orderly handed him bread and a bowl. Louis felt the warmth through his gloves. The smell of garlic made his nose twitch, but the promise of food made his stomach rumble. In front of him, Selen filled himself a bowl and handed the orderly the ladle.
“Have you seen Folc?” Selen asked, walking towards him while blowing on his soup.
“He went with Faremanne. I suppose they are waiting for us near the lake.” Louis and Selen crossed the camp. The soup was a bit acrid, but it was fresh. “Why did you serve the soup?” he asked.
“Someone had to do it. I stood nearby,” Selen answered. “Was it wrong?”
“No. As long as you remember you are their captain. But it was not wrong.” Louis looked at Selen to make him see that he meant it. Selen smiled back.
They finished their soup before joining Folc and Faremanne. Their friends waited on the shore.
“We still have a few hours before the sun disappears on the horizon,” Faremanne said.
Louis, Faremanne, Selen, and Folc walked along the shore in search of a boat. Among the reeds, they found an old fishing boat that still floated.
“Four men in armour on that?” Selen interjected.
“Well, we are all coming,” Faremanne protested.
“I’m not suggesting something else,” Selen carried on, “just that I don’t want to drown halfway.”
“We don’t really need our armour, not all of us. I can take mine off,” Folc suggested.
“Exactly. The island is small, and as I can see, there is hardly something bigger than lizards living on it,” Selen said. He removed his armour and only kept his sword attached to his belt. Folc did the same.
Louis hoped that the boat would hold the crossing because there was no way he would remove his armour. An artifact so powerful would not be left unguarded. Just because they didn’t see a threat didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Faremanne seemed to share his thoughts since he kept his armour on too.
They got on board. Faremanne and Selen rowed while Folc stood at the bow. Louis observed the island. It was a line of sandy earth covered with gigantic boulders and stones. No grass grew on it. The vegetation consisted only of thorny bushes and dead, gnarled trees, mostly buckthorn. There were stones shining white here and there.
“Those are no stones,” Louis muttered, his eyes scrutinizing the land.
“It’s bones,” Folc whispered with a tremulous voice.
The boat hit the shore.
Folc was the first to leave the boat. “I see nothing,” he said. “There are no houses, no constructions, nothing.”
“Stay behind us,” Louis said, “you have no armour.”
They pulled the boat onto the shore and walked around carefully. The ground was a mix of stones, sand, and bones of all sizes. Some were those of small animals, some were clearly human.
“What could have killed them?” Selen inquired. He picked up a skull and inspected it.
They progressed among the rocks, searching for a door or an engraved stone behind the brambles. Louis looked up. A crow was perched on one of the branches. Louis could swear it stared at them.
“I have found something!” Folc shouted. His call was followed by a scream of distress.
The three men ran to where the boy had been. A black hole gaped in the ground. Roots grew around it, and large stones blocked the way.
“Folc!” Selen shouted. “Folc, do you hear us?”
There was no answer.
“It’s too tight for any of us to pass through,” Faremanne said.
“We need to fetch him, one way or another,” Louis said, trying to stay calm.
“It’s not vertical. He may have slipped into a tunnel. There may be another opening somewhere. We should search for it,” Selen proposed.
Louis heard a croaking coming from above their heads. He looked up and saw that they were surrounded by crows.
“What mischief is this?” Faremanne cried out. He drew out his sword.
The crows croaked with a deafening noise. They flew and whirled together. A blurred shape appeared. The seer materialized in front of their eyes. Louis thought that the old hag looked even more dreadful than Folc had described her. Her empty eye sockets, veined with dark blood, were repulsiv
e. One of the crows flew down and perched on her shoulder.
“You finally came,” she cackled. Her voice was as raucous as a croaking.
“Did you take the boy?” Louis asked warily.
“The boy?” she asked. “You mean the thief, the nasty, little thief,” she hissed, wrinkling her nose. “If I find him…” She made a fist with her hand and shook it as if strangling the air. “I thought you were here for the artifact,” she sniggered.
“Well, that too,” Faremanne said. “Where is it? Tell us!” he ordered.
“I could…but to get the artifact, I need pure, pristine flesh,” she said, licking her dry, cracked lips. “I could make good use of some gorgeous, innocent young man.”
“What is she insinuating?” Selen asked, worried.
“Something that doesn’t concern you anymore,” Louis whispered to his friend.
“That is revolting!” Faremanne interjected.
“I was only talking about eating you! But you, you have something I want,” she said, turning to Selen.
“You mean, this is what you want,” Selen said, taking a cloth out of his pocket. He unfolded the corners, revealing two shiny, white eyeballs.
“Give it back,” the seer growled heinously. She rose a scrawny, clawlike arm in Selen’s direction and jumped onto him like a bobcat.
“Don’t touch him!” Louis shouted, hitting the old nag in the face with the back of his left gauntlet.
Her shriek was strident. A faint, white flash appeared, and the seer was projected backwards onto the ground. She rose laboriously. Half of her face looked like it had been scorched by a white-hot iron bar.
“Hell! How did you do that?” Faremanne shouted.
“I don’t know,” Louis answered, startled.
Selen came forward, holding the two eyes up in his palm, and crushed them. Mucus, slimy as egg white, ran down his hand and dripped to the ground.
The hag howled and trampled. Behind her, someone crept through the bushes. Louis recognized Folc but stayed silent. The seer was ready to attack again when the boy rushed forward. Her head flew into the air, chopped clean from her body. Behind the decapitated corpse stood Folc, his sword raised. He had mud on his shirt, and leaves hung from his hair.
“I’ve found the artifact!” he exclaimed, beaming. “What did I miss?”
They all stood struck by surprise. “Folc! Where have you been?” Selen exclaimed. They strode towards the boy.
“I fell through a tunnel,” he told them. “It was pitch black, so I crawled on the ground and held on to roots. The artifact glowed faintly on a pedestal in the middle of a chamber hidden inside the island.”
“How did you come out?” Faremanne asked.
“I followed a draught and another tunnel. I think only a child could have ventured through these tunnels. Maybe that’s what the seer meant by an innocent boy,” Folc told them.
“Can we see it?” Louis asked. He had listened until Folc had finished his story, but he could not wait to observe the magical object.
“Of course.” Folc took the artifact from his pocket. It was shaped as two folded wings that were made of silver. In the center was a flask with some kind of watery, transparent liquid.
“This is what we have to use against the dragon?” Faremanne asked. “How can we know it’s the right object or that it will work?”
“We can’t,” Louis answered.
“Therefore, I suggest we don’t talk about it to Bertrant. We can find out by ourselves when the time comes,” Faremanne proposed.
“Now, we need to find a way to get it inside the dragon. A creature we only have heard of,” Selen said.
“I have seen it in my dreams,” Louis objected.
“Well, everyone makes nightmares of orcs and dragons these days,” Faremanne retorted.
Louis did not see the point in explaining to the captain about his dreams and the visions. He stayed silent. He was more concerned about what he had done to the seer. He had not felt heat on his gauntlet. Yet, her face had been badly burned. Was his armour protected against magic? Had the seer done it to herself with her own powers? Selen touched his shoulder. “Hmm?”
“Shall we go?” Selen had washed his sticky hand in the lake. The feeling must have been repugnant. Louis wondered if he would have dared to do it on his own bare palm.
“Yes. Let’s move.” They still didn’t know what had caused all those bones around the island, but it was information he could live without.
They went on board and rowed back to the nearest bank. They dragged the boat onto the shore. Selen and Folc put their armours on again.
“I would like to keep the artifact on me if it’s all right with everyone?” Louis asked his friends. He was not especially interested in the artifact itself, but he was afraid that something was bound to it. He did not want Selen or Folc to suffer from some kind of spell or to have a creature searching for them in the middle of the night.
“What do you plan to do with it?” Faremanne questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Louis sighed. Someone had to ask that stupid question. He had crude words coming to his mind, but he gave up. “Keep it safe,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t trust you with it, Folc. On the contrary. I don’t trust anyone around you. This is silver.” At least, Louis wanted to justify himself to the boy.
Folc handed him the bag containing the artifact. They walked back together to the camp where everyone took his leave and went his own way.
Like every night, Louis would sleep at the headquarters. Sleeping on the ground in Bertrant’s tent was most unpleasant. The commander got drunk every night and snored like a bear. But should he sleep under the stars among the others, Louis would never close an eyelid all night. In an open camp, Louis was far too scared to have his throat cut during his sleep by one of Segar’s men. Bertrant had given him tacit approval the first time Louis had entered the tent with his blanket. Louis had appreciated the commander’s silence. He would have hated to ask.
He entered the tent. Bertrant sat on his bed with a book in his hands. The man tried hard to give a better image of himself every day. Louis felt remorse for not telling Bertrant about the artifact. He did not like to lie, especially to good men. Yet, the greater good was always more important in his eyes. He would have to deal with it. “Do you like reading?” he asked.
“I am a bad reader, but my wife liked reading,” Bertrant answered.
“Are you married?” Louis inquired. He had never imagined the commander with a family.
“I was,” Bertrant said. He raised his eyes from his book. “She died.”
“I’m truly sorry,” Louis said, sincere. “May I ask how?”
“It was during the war of the lords, right after the dead of King Lambelin. A family, the Harpers, wanted to get rid of me because I had sided with their enemies. They rode to our castle one day. They killed everyone. My household, the cooks, the lads…my children, and my wife.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “They dishonored my wife and killed her.” Bertrant’s voice was thick with grief and rage. He rubbed the palm of his hand over his eyes. “I was away that day. My lord had called on me in the morning to settle a conflict in a village. When I came back in the evening…” Bertrant’s voice died out.
Louis did not know what to say. His feelings were a mix of sorrow and compassion for the man who had fought bravely, despite such a terrible loss. “We will avenge their deaths, my lord.”
Bertrant gave a slight smile. “It’s what I have done for four years now. I have fought every day, carrying my family in my heart. I’m tired. I know what I look like. I see it in your eyes. Some men need to drink. Some men need something to hold them together during the days. And the nights.” Bertrant made a gesture. “No, don’t talk. You are right. I used to be like you once. Always wanted things to be perfect. Filled with ideals. I know you want to win the war. But never forget that we all want it. For all we have lost. For all we are afraid to lose.” Bertrant turned around and lay down.
&nb
sp; “Thank you, my lord,” Louis whispered.
He went to the other side of the tent, removed his armour, stretched out his blanket, and lay down on it. He took the artifact out of his pocket and pulled it out of the bag. The wings were nicely carved. They did not look like demon wings. They were more birdlike. As he touched the flask with a finger, the water radiated a feeble light. Frightened to have done something wrong, Louis dropped the artifact. The light died out. He looked at the flask, startled, and reached towards it again with his finger. The white glow came back. It shone like the light which had appeared on his gauntlet when he had hit the seer. It did not hurt or burn. It only glimmered like a diamond. Why did it happen now? Why not when Folc had held it? He knew he had no answer to all his questions. He pushed the artifact back inside the bag. He did not know what to do with it, but he had sworn to protect it. He put it back in his pocket, hoping it would not burn him to death while he slept. Behind him, Bertrant snored already. Louis laid his arm on his head and fell asleep.
Screams and shrieks woke him up. Louis flew up on his feet. “What happened?” he shouted. He searched for his sword and saw that Bertrant stood up next to him. Dark slime stained his clothes. At his feet lay the bodies of two orcs.
“I caught them sniffing at you. You can be lucky that I was feeling thirsty,” Bertrant said. “Now, would you please tell me why, in the whole camp, they would sneak in here, searching especially for you?” Louis heard the threat in the words.
“You should call for Faremanne first. We can explain everything.” Louis knew it was time to inform Bertrant.
CHAPTER 30
Lissandro and Kilda had stolen two horses and had left the camp unnoticed. They had galloped through the forest for a while now.
“Stop!” Lissandro shouted. He reined in. His horse stopped in puffs of dust. In front of him, Kilda slowed down. “I’m not riding any further until you have told me what’s going on.” Lissandro was tired of her erratic behavior. “First you bring me to that camp, praising your friends, and now you make us flee?”
Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1) Page 20