Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  “You may have seduced Bertrant, but you don’t fool me,” Segar sneered, wrinkling his nose. “You can stroll around puffed up with your self-importance, preaching about honour and rules, but I know what you are.” The man’s eyes gleamed with wicked malice. “I don’t know which one of you, you or your tasty, purple slut, takes it deep, but I know the filth you do. You will pay for your swagger and the mess you made,” he whispered with provocative repulsion.

  Louis’s eyes were piercing with cold fury. His right hand shook. He contracted it harder on the hilt. “I will have your head for that,” Louis hissed in Segar’s face, showing his lower teeth.

  “Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you?” Segar murmured. “But I’m not like that fat Vakeg. I’ve got plenty of men behind me, and the last thing you want right now is a mutiny in your army.”

  “Do it,” Louis snarled low with an appealing voice. “Just give me a single excuse to execute you and your scum.”

  “You would start a bloodbath just for my head?” Segar chuckled. “Does blood turn you on? You’re sick.”

  Louis did not care how much blood he would need to shed to clean the army of its worst elements. Not only did they threaten their mission, but they had spat on his honour and insulted his friend. The only thing that prevented Louis from slicing the man’s throat was the promise he had made to Bertrant a few hours ago. Yet, he could not let the man go so easily, and the men were watching him.

  “Louis,” a high-pitched voice said behind him.

  He turned his eyes and saw Folc watching him with dread. It was the opportunity to let go. Louis relaxed his grip. “I won’t do that in front of the boy,” he said, trying to calm down. He backed up, his eyes and dagger still on Segar. “But I’ll get you one day.”

  “Not if I get you first,” Segar hissed. The threat was plain and clear.

  “This is over. Now move along!” Louis yelled at the crowd. The men complied. “Follow me,” he said to Folc. They left the street and strode back to the castle.

  “Nice color,” Selen commented when Louis entered their room. His friend was already back from the infirmary and sat near the window with a book in his hand. “Segar?”

  “He doesn’t look better,” Louis replied. It was a meager consolation to the frightful show he had given the men and the terrible revelation he had heard. “He knows.”

  “I had figured that. But it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does! What if he spreads the word?”

  “I don’t think he will do it now. He has no proof. To insult you would only be rebellion. He could be hanged for that.” Selen came to him and touched his face. “The cheekbone is not broken, but the bruise will match my hair for a few days. Let me put water on it.”

  “Bertrant will surely say that I had it coming.” His lips twitched. Yet, Louis knew that Bertrant did not show more consideration for Segar. He unbuckled his belt and put his sword on the table. “How was it at the infirmary? Tell me.”

  “We have lost around two hundred men and have as many wounded. However, most of them will be ready to ride in two days.” With care, Selen applied cold water on his bruise. It soothed his cheek. At least, it had not been the eye. “Brother Benedict complains that he doesn’t have enough assistants and that he needs more time to fill his stocks of oils.”

  “What do you think?” Louis asked.

  “I think he is not the kind of man to be satisfied, should he even have his own dispensary and an army of nurses,” Selen sighed. He saw the mark on his wrist. “Teeth?”

  “I hope I did not get rabies.” Louis went to the table and washed his wound with soap.

  “I talked with Lord Josselin. The man is willing, but he wants revenge. I don’t think you should let him take ascendance over Bertrant. He sounded…perturbed,” Selen said, worried. They moved and sat on the bed. “Did you find Folc?”

  “I have,” Louis answered. He saw relief on Selen’s face. “The boy had searched for his aunt. It happened that she died two years ago which makes him the last one of his line. I found him a room in the keep. Folc has made up his mind and wants to follow the Rebellion. It’s an honorable choice, and you can keep an eye on him.” Louis smiled. He knew Selen felt responsible for the boy. “I have more good news for you. Bertrant wants to dub us. You will be a knight again.”

  Selen laughed. “I am already a knight. Unlike you,” he sneered. Selen looked so happy.

  “You don’t know what I am,” Louis said with a sly smile. His cheek hurt.

  “Show me,” Selen said, taking his hand.

  CHAPTER 40

  Folc watched himself in the mirror. His brown doublet embroidered with red flowers fitted him perfectly. To match his garment, he had black hose and small brown boots. On his head, he wore a hat adorned with a jay feather. He was not always concerned about his appearance, but he liked to give a good image of himself. Besides, today was a big day. His two friends would become knights. He had seen adoubement ceremonies before. It was always impressive, and everyone wanted to be seen at his best. Folc tied a sharp, thin dagger to his belt, had a last glance in the mirror, and left his chamber.

  Louis had insisted that he have a room for himself so that he could have privacy and act as it pleased him during their stay in the city. Folc was grateful for that. He had felt sad to learn that his aunt was dead. Not that he knew her, but she had been his only kin alive. Now, he was the last of the Tyntagiel. He had sworn to himself that he would bear his name proudly and be a valiant lord. He would follow his friends in the Rebellion and fight at their side.

  Folc entered the crowded great hall. An adoubement was an important ceremony in castle life. All the nobles and rich families of Millhaven wanted to assist. It was the first official event after four years of terror. The great hall had been restored. There were rows of benches. The floor had been scraped clean. The stained-glass windows shone in the sunlight, and a new great chair had been built. Folc stepped to the first row. The Countess Khorkina stood on the dais. She wore a splendid pastel green gown adorned with silver pearls. It was supported by a large crinoline. Around her neck was a white lace collar, stretched up to her bun. Folc had seen many kinds of women before but never any as graceful as the countess. She had the demeanor of a queen. Beside her stood Bertrant. He was richly dressed in a green doublet. They both looked solemn but kind.

  The crowd fell silent and moved aside. Selen and Louis came along the main alley. Their armours gleamed. His friends did not have the massive appearance armored knights usually gave. They had a majestic bearing. As if their armours had grown on them. It was obvious on Selen whose cuisses and greaves coated his long legs as if the metal and the flesh were one. His armour was covered with embossed foliate scrolls and was heavily gilded. His heels made him slightly taller than Louis. An impression that Louis compensated for with his double pauldrons. Louis’s armour was engraved with a tree pattern and blued. Folc had always wondered where his friends had found armours fitted to kings. The simplicity of their weapons showed that they could not have afforded their armours, but they must have received them somehow. Louis’s light brown curls floated around his head and down his shoulders with the rhythm of his steps. Folc saw the pride and honour on their faces. They walked to the edge of the dais, stopped, and knelt low. Selen’s long hair, fastened low with an amaranth ribbon, cascaded on his back to the floor.

  Bertrant approached them. He unsheathed his sword and laid the blade on Louis’s right shoulder. He raised the sword and placed it on the left shoulder. Bertrant renewed the ritual with Selen. The commander put his sword away and took the two men’s hands in his. Loudly and clearly, Louis and Selen swore their oath.

  “I solemnly swear by the gods, and of my own free will, to serve as a knight of the Kingdom of Trevalden. I swear to be true to my words and chivalric in my actions, to be brave in battle, and to give assistance to the unfortunate. These are my knightly obligations, and I will fulfill them.”

  Usually, this was where the lord us
ed to hit the knight, as a symbol, so that he would remember the day. Folc wondered if Bertrant would hit the two men. The commander turned to Louis, but instead of hitting him, he took Louis by the shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. He turned to Selen and kissed him as well. The two men could rise as knights.

  Louis and Selen got up and turned to the cheering crowd. Folc applauded and shouted his congratulations. Selen smiled heartily. Louis looked more reserved but smiled nonetheless. Folc saw Selen turn to Louis. The look they shared would have been imperceptible to a stranger, but it touched Folc deeply. He was glad that his friends had a few days together.

  Folc grew uneasy among strangers. He left the great hall and went out into the yard to breathe the fresh air of the evening. He sat on a bench under a tree. A shaggy, grey dog scraped at a door on the other side of the yard. Folc whistled at it. The dog stared at him with caution before trotting in his direction. It had hair falling into his eyes, and his fur was clotted with mud. Folc caressed his head and clapped on his side. He could feel the floating ribs under his fingers.

  “Poor thing,” he muttered. Folc had an idea. He rose and ran into the great hall.

  In the alleys, the guests chatted and socialized. Folc reached the buffet and filled his hands with cakes. No one seemed to notice him. He went out again with a smirk on his face. He had not completely forgotten his skills at stealing food. The dog had waited for him by the side of the bench.

  “Here, take.” He gave the pastries to the dog, one at a time. “Good boy.”

  “I saw you,” he heard a soft, kind voice say behind his back.

  “He was hungry,” Folc objected.

  “You know I don’t mind,” Selen said, sitting beside him on the bench.

  “Why are you not inside? It is your day,” Folc asked. The dog slobbered on his hand while licking the last morsels.

  “You know I don’t like to have so many people looking at me. I don’t even know them. Besides, I wanted to see you,” Selen said. “I am sorry for your loss. I don’t know how it is to lose a family. I never had one myself, but I suppose it must be horrible.”

  “Thank you. I did not know her, but it was still a difficult time,” Folc said, melancholic. The dog whirled and sat on his feet with a sigh. “I miss my parents.” He was silent for a while. He turned to Selen. “Do you know what is hard? It’s that I never told them how much I loved them.” Folc had tears coming to his eyes. “One should always tell these things if he doesn’t want to regret it all his life.” He caressed the dog’s head. Selen’s long silence surprised him. “Selen?” Folc said, turning to his friend. Next to him, Selen wept.

  “You are right,” Selen whispered.

  Folc considered that, after what he had said, his friend had only one reason to cry. “Do you mean that you have never told him?” Folc could hardly believe it.

  “What are you talking about?” Selen muttered, drying his tears with the back of his hand.

  “Louis, of course. I know you both try to be discreet, but I have lived with you. I’m not blind…and I don’t mind.”

  Selen turned to him and smiled. “I’m scared to tell. I have my reasons.”

  “Well, that’s foolish. You are everything to him. Besides, one of you can get killed during that war. Think of the one doomed to stay alive,” Folc said with reproach.

  “You’re a smart boy,” Selen said. His voice was doleful. Folc understood he had caused his friend pain. “Sometimes, I wonder why I’m so scared for you,” Selen added. He got up and went back inside the castle without a glance.

  “Because you care,” Folc whispered. He got up and walked away, the dog following close on his heels.

  CHAPTER 41

  Louis left the ceremony as soon as he could. Without much surprise, Selen had already sneaked off. The adoubement and its preparation had taken more time than Louis had expected. They would leave tomorrow, and he had not received the reports on their supplies yet. At least, Selen had been happy. Louis hurried down the stairs. Outside, the last rays of sun disappeared on the horizon. He met Faremanne in the inner courtyard. The captain was back from the city.

  “I’m sorry I could not assist during the ceremony, but I had to make the last checks,” Faremanne said. The captain breathed as if he had run the whole way from the warehouses.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m happy someone here still has a notion of priorities,” Louis said, a bit nervous. “I was on my way to see you. How are our stocks?”

  “Good. We have the carts and wagons. I received the meat this afternoon.” Faremanne sounded satisfied. Louis nodded with approval.

  “Do you have the lists and reports?” Louis believed Faremanne, but he needed to check through all this to make sure they had not missed anything. Tomorrow, it would be too late.

  “Of course.” Faremanne handed him the papers. “I also talked with Josselin. He has gathered impressive forces. Ten thousand men will join our ranks.” Faremanne’s eyes gleamed with joy.

  “Ten thousand?” Louis froze, shocked. “Only?”

  Faremanne was taken aback. “What do you mean only? Louis, it’s much more than we could have dreamed of.”

  “But the population of Millhaven is over fifty thousand!” Anger filled him. He could not believe it. Faremanne looked at him with disbelief and opened his mouth, but Louis interrupted him. “I must talk to Bertrant.” Louis turned around and headed towards the castle.

  “Louis, no…” He heard Faremanne sigh.

  Louis climbed the staircase leading to Bertrant’s chambers. The door stood ajar. Louis pushed it open and knocked.

  “I suppose I can’t avoid this important conversation,” Bertrant sighed. He adjusted his doublet. “What happened?”

  “Only ten thousand?” Louis jumped to the point. He walked into the room. “Did they only choose soldiers?”

  “First, you should be glad it is ten thousand and not fewer. Secondly, it is ten thousand volunteers,” Bertrant said. The commander tugged on his sleeves.

  Louis pinched his brow. This was what he had feared. “I understand you want motivated soldiers, Commander. I too prefer the company of courageous men who love their country, but we need the mass. We freed this city. We could apply conscription.”

  “Conscription could indeed bring us more men, but it would spread fear and hate against us among the people. The Rebellion needs popularity. We need to make people dream of victory.”

  “These cowards have had four years to make their hate useful!” Louis exclaimed. He approached Bertrant. “I don’t want dreams of victory. I want victory.”

  Bertrant stared back at him. “The men here have suffered much. We can’t ask more from them.”

  “On the contrary. They have seen what orcs can do. Their motivation should be greater,” Louis insisted. “Besides, freedom has a price. Not to mention that it should be a duty for a man to defend his land.” Louis frowned.

  “Louis.” Bertrant looked at him and sighed. “No.” Louis wanted to object, but Bertrant raised a hand and left his own chambers. The commander halted, came back, and made a sign for Louis to leave.

  Louis gave up and left the room. He had promised to collaborate with Bertrant; he would have to satisfy himself with the ten thousand soldiers. He walked through the halls to his own chamber.

  The room was so dark when Louis opened the door that he first thought Selen was already asleep. Then, he saw the dim light of the candle on the bedtable. Selen lay on the bed with the sheets pulled over him, his long hair spread around his body. Selen’s eyes looked at him.

  Louis undressed. He went to the table, washed his face, and brushed his hair. He was not angry anymore. He was done being a captain or a knight for today. Even the reports laid on the corner of the table. He would have a look at them later. He climbed onto the bed and slipped under the sheets next to Selen.

  “Did you wait for me?” Louis asked, wrapping an arm around his friend. Even in the pale light of the candle, Louis could see by Selen’s expression th
at something was wrong.

  “It is the last night,” Selen whispered. “I could not fall asleep.”

  “I know,” Louis sighed. He grazed one hand against Selen’s cheek and kissed his lips. Selen laid one hand on his shoulder to stop him.

  “Blow out the candle, please,” Selen murmured, his eyes looking down.

  Louis stared at Selen, surprised. He wanted to speak, but he saw Selen bite his lower lip. Louis put out the light. He noticed that the moon was shining brightly outside. He turned back towards Selen.

  He had never felt Selen so melancholic. He caressed the side of his head. His hair shone white, and the moonlight reflected in his eyes. Selen wrapped an arm around his chest and crept closer. “You know, we don’t need…” Louis murmured. He yearned for it, but if Selen did not feel good, he would not force him.

  “No. No, I want it,” Selen responded at once. “I want you.” He took Louis’s hand and put it around his waist. Louis felt Selen’s desire when Selen’s mouth assaulted his, but his kiss was rough and unusually clumsy.

  Louis laid Selen down on his back and crept on top of him. As he felt the warmth of Selen’s body against his, his thoughts flowed. The idea that this was their last moment sneaked into his mind, but he pushed it back and traced his mouth around Selen’s face and neck as if it were their first night, back there in the inn. It felt to Louis like it had been a year ago. How carefree they had been. Louis wondered if Selen had chosen to follow him—or if he had dragged his friend into this chaos. Louis felt Selen’s fingertips trail on his back and Selen’s thigh rub against his hip. He took an eternity to graze down Selen’s body with his lips, tasting his smooth skin and skimming his tongue on Selen’s nipples and down his abdomen. Louis did not want the moment to end. He inhaled the lavender perfume of his fair curls before nestling his face between Selen’s legs. Selen grabbed a lock of his hair and led Louis’s mouth where his urge was the most earnest. Louis complied graciously and soothed Selen’s ache with hunger. Something in Selen’s grip was awkward, too firm, but Louis would pleasure him nonetheless. Louis noticed that Selen’s little squeaks halted. When his sliding fingers felt that Selen was ready, he crawled up for a kiss.