Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  She rode back to him. “Are you not happy with it? Did you prefer your cage?”

  “Well, if it meant I could see my friends again, yes!” Lissandro yelled. He would have cursed and called her names if she had not been a woman. Her bad mood got on his nerves, and his spirits were on the verge of breaking down again.

  “I saw what they are doing!” she yelled back at him. Tears came to her eyes. “I saw the truth! Are you happy now?”

  She was as upset as he was. Lissandro lowered his tone. “What did you see?”

  “The cages. They park them in cages. The villagers.” She got down from her mount and paced back and forth. “I was a fool.” Kilda sat down and put her hands to her face.

  Lissandro heard her sob. He could not help but feel sorry for her. He dismounted and tied the horses’ bridles to a branch. Silently, he approached her and waited.

  “I thought I was doing something good. How stupid,” she muttered from under her hands.

  “We all make mistakes. Why did you trust someone like that?” Lissandro sat behind her.

  “He did not mind that I was a woman. He did not laugh at me. He gave me a chance.” She sniffled.

  That, Lissandro could understand. It was a feeling he had encountered many times. Lonely, rejected people like himself craved attention and, as he had seen in Selen, were often gullible. Through years of torment, Lissandro had learned the painful lesson not to take the wrong helping hand. “I don’t mind either. You are a good warrior,” he said. “Why did you free me?”

  “When I saw the cages and the blood and what they could do to children, I thought they would never hesitate to hurt you. So I took you with me. I’m sorry I messed up. You are free now. Go,” she said with a low, thick voice.

  Lissandro was moved by her gesture. He had done nothing to deserve her compassion. Instead, considering he had nothing to lose, he had been mean and rude. “Thank you.”

  “You’re still here?” she mumbled, angry.

  Lissandro rose and walked in front of her. He held out his hand. “Shall we carry on?”

  She looked up. “Your friends are searching for you.”

  “I know, but I have no idea where they are, and you are alone. We both need company.” He smiled. “I promise not to be mean.”

  She took his hand and rose. They got back on their mounts and kept on riding east.

  “You said that my friends were in the Rebellion. What is it exactly?” Lissandro asked. Under him, his horse stumbled and blew. He patted his mount on the neck.

  “The Rebellion is the army fighting against the orc legions of King Agroln. Suicidal fools, for the most. I have heard that their camp was two days ride to the east. Is it where you want to go?”

  “If it’s where my friends are, yes.” So, they had joined an army and fought to free the country. That happened fast, Lissandro thought. It also meant that they could not search for him themselves. That’s why they had put a ransom on his head.

  “I don’t think I can come with you,” Kilda said.

  “Well, it’s your choice, but I don’t understand why. You are a warrior.”

  “A woman warrior. The Rebellion doesn’t want me in its ranks. I tried a few years ago,” she said, bitter.

  “But, the Rebellion and Colten… It’s two different fights.” Lissandro was confused. “Well, at least what Colten pretended to fight for.”

  “I know, but I needed to see Pembroke dead,” she said with resentment.

  They came into view of a tower. “Hush,” Kilda said.

  “What is it?” Lissandro reined in.

  The tower was of grey stones and rose high in the sky. It had a slate roof on top and a defensive wall at the bottom. Light shone through one of the windows. They could not see the door from where they stood.

  “This is an outpost,” she whispered. “It’s controlled by Pembroke’s men.”

  “Can’t we ride past it?” Lissandro asked.

  “You could. But I am a bandit. They will want to arrest me,” she sighed.

  “Well, let’s try through the woods instead.”

  “We need to cross the river, and it’s the only path.”

  Not a river again, Lissandro thought. “Are there no other bridges or a ford downstream we could try?”

  “There is a rope bridge, but I’m not sure the horses will make it.”

  “Let’s have a try,” he said and spun his horse to the right.

  It only took them a moment to come into sight of the bridge. It stretched from one bank to the other a few yards above the river. The ropes looked solid, but the planks had a nasty green color.

  “I’m not sure…” Kilda said.

  “Then I will go first,” Lissandro said. “Hold my horse.” He dismounted and handed her the reins.

  Slowly, Lissandro stepped on the first plank. It seemed safe. He progressed step by step, taking his time. The wood squeaked a little, but nothing alarming. Under his weight, the ropes swung gently. He felt the cold air of the river blow on his face. He had walked a few yards now. The water ran under him in gurgles. It was not the Strelm River, but there were currents. Holding on to the ropes, he stomped, then hopped a little. The wood held fast. Feeling a bit more secured, he continued. Soon, Lissandro reached the other bank. Nothing had happened. He ran back to Kilda. “I think it’s secu—” he said when the planks gave way under him, breaking in a loud creak. He desperately tried to grab a rope or the edge of a board but missed. “Kilda!” The cold water engulfed him.

  Lissandro felt pain in his chest. Lips touched his mouth. He wanted to puke and turned his head to the side. Water gushed from his throat. He lay on the shore, soaking wet.

  “You idiot!” Kilda yelled.

  Lissandro sat down. “Did you rescue me?”

  “Yeah, and it cost us our horses. It was tying the bridles or running down the shore. And trust me, you’re not worth more than a horse,” she lectured him, frowning with one finger pointed up as if he had been a disobedient child. She backed and sat down. “You scared me.”

  “What are we going to do now?” he asked, worried. “Do you know where we are?”

  “I don’t know. We can’t go up to the tower; we can’t go west to the camp. We’re stuck here without food. We should make a fire. You need to dry.” She got up and gathered dead wood.

  Lissandro raged against himself. He was useless, just good to put other people’s lives in danger. She was right, he was worthless. He had been lost, captured, imprisoned. He felt disoriented, hungry, wet, and terribly alone. How could he even consider helping his friends? They had succeeded so well without him. She should have let him drown. He felt tears run down his cheeks. He squirmed. Kilda was coming back, and the last thing he wanted was her pity. He turned away to hide his face.

  “I was not always a warrior, you know,” she said while lighting the fire. “I used to be a wife, a mother. I can feel when someone is crying.”

  Lissandro turned around. “What happened?”

  “I was the lady of Lord Hewald. He was a good husband and a good lord.” Her voice was thick with sorrow. “I loved him.” With a stick, she poked at the fire. Lissandro drew closer. “We had moved together before the war began. I was carrying his child.”

  “Did he die during the war?” Lissandro asked softly.

  “On the battlefield. He was fighting with the Rebellion when Pembroke abandoned them,” she muttered, filled with rage. “All the lords, our friends, turned their backs on me. Without him, I lost our castle, our lands, and…I lost the baby.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He came to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him.

  “This armour is all I have left of my beloved.” Kilda broke down in tears. “I swore I would avenge his death.”

  “It is not the lords you should fight,” Lissandro whispered, cradling her. “It’s Agroln. We must join the Rebellion. If my friends have a little power in the army, you will be welcome.”

  He heard wood creak behind them.
Kilda rose bolt upright and reached for her sword.

  A group of men came out of the forest. Some had bows drawn, some held massive hounds on the leash. The dogs barked. Slobber spurted out of their waggling chops. A man in a plate armour came forward.

  “What do we have here?” he sneered.

  CHAPTER 31

  The city of Millhaven was majestic. Only the most beautiful cities of his previous life’s kingdom could be compared to the city. It had been a long time since Selen had seen something so gigantic. The citadel gleamed sandy white. The ramparts stretched around the city in a semicircle, from north to south. The whole city faced west. Millhaven had been built from the rock of the mountain, and its walls had been whitewashed. Behind it rose a red cliff with a high plateau on the top. Selen counted five large towers and seven smaller ones on the ramparts. The city had one main gate with a gatehouse, facing west, and two gates of less importance, one in the north and one in the south. In the background, the imposing keep and its outbuildings overhung the city houses. He saw the green patches of the trees in the rich villa’s gardens. The city could have been an exquisite painting if it had not been disfigured by the most shocking ornament.

  “Please, tell me they are dead,” Selen begged his friend.

  “No one can survive that,” Louis answered. His voice was low.

  The whole length of the rampart was covered with spikes with impaled men on them. The several hundred corpses stood rigid in their last pose. Only their clothes flapped in the wind. The ones with their arms and head stretched towards the sun, as if imploring the gods, made a lasting impression on Selen.

  “Don’t look at it,” Faremanne said to Selen. “It’s exactly what they want: to impress you with their viciousness.”

  “I don’t know if I can turn my eyes away from it. This vision will haunt me,” Selen responded.

  “Thank the gods it’s a moat and not a glacis!” Bertrant exclaimed.

  “Well, that’s a positive attitude,” Faremanne noted towards Selen.

  “Should we pitch the camp? I would like to start at once with the preparations,” Louis suggested.

  The captains and Bertrant stood at the top of the last mound before the plain which separated the citadel from the forest. The soldiers were gathered behind them, waiting for orders.

  “Let’s do that,” Bertrant said. He turned to one of his lieutenants. “Install the camp. Start with the headquarters. It must be ready as soon as possible. Call for all my captains. I want Segar and Jamys here in an hour.”

  Selen saw Louis turn to Faremanne. “Once they are done with the main tents, distribute the axes to the men and explain to them what to do. They must start at once.”

  “What have you planned?” Selen asked.

  “You will see,” they answered with a smile.

  The headquarters were ready on time. All the five captains and their commander were gathered around the large, oak table. A map of the city lay displayed in front of them.

  “I have been in Millhaven many times,” Bertrant said, “and I know its strength. The ramparts are broad and sound. The towers cover every corner. We won’t be able to approach near enough for undermining. The moat is not deep, but the drawbridge is heavy and reinforced with bands of steel. We can’t force it from the outside.”

  “This is an impregnable stronghold. How did the orcs get into it?” Segar exclaimed.

  “The city had been under siege for months. Half of the army had made a desperate sortie to clear the orcs. They were outnumbered. The city never got time to raise the bridge again,” Bertrant explained.

  “We have no time for a siege,” Faremanne said. “We have to act before they summon their forces.”

  “This is precisely what I’d hoped. They have so many orcs dispersed into the realm that only a handful is left in the city,” Louis said.

  “A handful of at least three thousand. We are only one thousand—and on the wrong side of the wall,” Jamys sneered.

  “We have between forty and fifty thousand men trapped inside the city,” Louis objected.

  “Civilians! You can be sure that the orcs didn’t leave any soldier alive,” Segar exclaimed.

  “Do you really think civilians can’t fight?” Louis sounded offended by the captain’s comment.

  “Don’t they have some kind of sewers?” Jamys asked Bertrant.

  “They do. But we don’t have the power to tear off the steel gates blocking the tunnels,” Bertrant answered with a pessimistic sigh.

  “Excuse me,” Selen said with his soft voice. He had stayed silent the whole time, listening carefully to Bertrant and analyzing the map. “If I am right, the city is rich and powerful because of its gold mine.”

  “It is, indeed,” Bertrant confirmed.

  “Then, all this is a mine,” Selen said, passing his long fingers on the map, underlining the east side of Millhaven. “The entrances are in the city, here and there.” He tapped on two tiny black crosses.

  “Yes?” Bertrant sounded intrigued.

  “It is a large mine,” Selen continued. “They need plenty of air exhausts and intakes, and in this case, these must only go straight up. They are scattered on the plateau.”

  “Go on,” Bertrant urged him.

  “If we crawl into the air intakes there, we can go out here. Into the city,” Selen suggested.

  “This is brilliant,” Bertrant acknowledged. “But we can’t ask a thousand men to crawl into tunnels.”

  “No, no! Not a thousand men,” Selen objected. “Only a party. They could sneak into the city and lower the drawbridge.”

  Selen saw Louis’s face turn radiant. “This could work.”

  “But what if they get caught?” Segar grunted.

  “This is why we will do the diversion,” Louis suggested. “We will prepare ourselves to battle and draw the orcs’ attention to us.”

  “And who will be the fool leading the expedition in the tunnels?” Segar asked.

  “Me,” Selen said, raising his hand.

  Everyone turned to him, aghast. “We can send a lieutenant,” Bertrant retorted.

  “No. It’s my idea. I will take the risk,” Selen insisted. He desperately craved to do something helpful of his own. He was bored of following the captains without having his own word to say. “I will gather a party of quick, nimble men. We will run to the plateau following the north path. It’s mostly out of sight from the towers. Once we are inside the city, we will send you a sign.”

  “The birds,” Faremanne said. “Take the birds with you. Release the whole flock once you are out of the mine.”

  “There is something more you can do,” Louis said. “Commander, it’s time you see what Faremanne and I have been planning.”

  Bertrant opened his mouth to scold the two captains, but Louis stopped him and made a sign for him to follow him outside. They all went out.

  “What on earth is that?” Bertrant said amazed, his eyes scanning the men transporting the long wooden beams.

  “These are our trebuchets,” Louis answered with a hint of pride in his voice.

  “How did you manage to have so many so quickly?” Bertrant inquired.

  “I knew there would be enough wood, and we had all the hinges from the corrals. We distributed an axe to every man. They have worked like ants.” Louis smiled. “That should work as a diversion.”

  Louis turned to Faremanne. “Once they are done with the cutting, gather the axes. Selen, how many weapons can you and your men carry?”

  Selen understood now how he could improve his plan.

  Selen went back to his and Folc’s quarters. He had walked around the camp the rest of the day, choosing the men for his party. He knew he could have asked a lieutenant to do the task, but he wanted to know exactly with whom he would risk his life. He did not know if the risks were higher to crawl into the tunnels or to charge against the city walls. As dusk fell, he had felt more and more insecure about the result of his initiative. Neither did he have a map of the mine, nor d
id he know if the openings were large enough. The eventuality of getting lost or stuck somewhere in a narrow passageway under the earth frightened him, and he decided to stop thinking about it. They would see when they got there.

  Selen entered the tent and sat on his bed, his arms on his thighs. Folc stood near a rack, greasing his own armour. “I guess I can’t come with you?” the boy asked.

  “Not this time, Folc,” Selen answered. “You stay in the camp. You should stand near the trebuchets tomorrow. It’s a safe place, out of range.” Selen knew that the boy would do as he pleased, but he insisted anyway.

  “Are you scared?” Folc asked.

  “Yes, I’m scared,” Selen answered. “We have a long run, and we don’t know if there will be patrols on the way. There are so many probabilities that I have stopped to count.” Selen gave a faint smile.

  “But you will be back?” Folc pleaded.

  Selen did not know what to say. He did not want to lie to the boy. “I want to.”

  “Did you talk about it with Louis?” Folc asked.

  “I said I would talk with him about the last details tomorrow at dawn,” Selen said. Sorrow gripped his heart. The lie still burned in his throat like poison, filling his chest with queasiness.

  “But?” Folc inquired. He had a reproachful look. The boy was not easily fooled.

  “But I told the men we will leave during the night,” Selen whispered.

  “You can’t do that to him!” Folc shouted.

  “I must,” Selen objected. “We are here to fight. We must stay focused on the battle. Everyone’s future depends on me in this. I can’t bear any more weight on my shoulders!” He already hated himself. He did not need the boy to turn the knife in the wound.

  Folc looked at him with disapproval but did not insist. He carried on polishing his armour with rough moves.

  “Please, don’t be angry at me before I leave,” Selen sighed.

  “I’m angry because I care. I’ve lost my parents. If you go and die somewhere…” The boy shook his head. “And if you think I’m upset, think of what will happen tomorrow morning,” Folc responded. “But you know I can’t be mad at you. Just promise you’ll be back. Even if you can’t,” the boy said with a brittle voice.