Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  “Now listen to me. One, two…three!”

  Louis pushed as hard as he could. He felt his feet dig into the ground, but the wagon moved.

  “Push!” one of the soldiers shouted.

  The men groaned. The wagon rose and rolled forward. Losing his grip, Louis stumbled, but one soldier held him up.

  “Thank you,” Louis said before he strode to his horse and mounted.

  Their forces had stretched so much that the first battalion seemed a mile away while the rest of the army pressed behind them. Louis rode on the side of the wagon. The smell made him so nauseous that he wondered if he could eat again.

  The first stars shone in the sky when they reached the other side. The first battalion was busy setting camp on a grassy field. Fires had been lit and blows of hammers resounded.

  Louis approached a lieutenant. “Don’t let anyone drink water from that place. Spread the word.”

  The wagon passed him by and joined the rest of the supply train. Louis rode to the corral. Soldiers rubbed down horses. One man took his mount’s bridle as he dismounted. Louis’s head spun. He walked a few steps away and opened his mouth to retch. A hand grabbed his shoulder.

  “That was a tough day,” Faremanne said. “Care for a loaf of salted pork?”

  The next morning, they arrived at the meeting point. Pembroke’s army was larger than theirs. They had pitched their tents on the plain, turning the green meadow into a sea of white linen. A lot more banners than they carried floated above masts. Pembroke had summoned many of his barons. As they approached, their horses responded to the whinnies of the other army’s mounts. Soon, the groups mixed, and men saluted and hailed to each other. The captains of the Rebellion proceeded to Pembroke’s pavilion. Louis hoped that the count’s meeting with Bertrant would not be too tumultuous.

  “He could have stood outside his tent to welcome us,” Bertrant grumbled as they dismounted. Louis sighed with apprehension. Soldiers came to take care of their horses.

  Bertrant, Faremanne, Selen, Josselin, and Louis entered the tent. The headquarters were similar to Bertrant’s. Dressed in a black doublet rimmed with gold, Pembroke stood behind his board with his captains and lieutenants around him. Louis noticed at once that the men of the Rebellion were largely outnumbered. He strode alongside Bertrant.

  “We had hoped for a better welcome!” the commander exclaimed. The lieutenants cleared the way as they approached.

  “Bertrant! We were not expecting you until tomorrow,” Pembroke said.

  Louis did not believe that they had surprised the count, yet if it actually was genuine confusion he read on the man’s face, he would have a word with their sentinels. “Excuse us for arriving too early,” Louis retorted. “We had a stronghold filled with orcs standing in our way. It’s true it should have delayed us a bit.”

  “I hope you were positively impressed by the strength of our motivation,” Bertrant said, adding a layer. He halted in front of the board and crossed his arms. Louis stood at his side, his arms behind his back.

  Pembroke sighed. “I left my city unguarded. Don’t make me regret my decision.” He turned to his captains and lieutenants. “Leave us.” The men went out.

  “We came with eleven thousand men, mostly soldiers from Millhaven,” Bertrant said, cocking his head backwards towards Josselin. In the corner of his eye, Louis saw the captain bow. “How many men do you bring?” Bertrant asked.

  “Twenty thousand. It’s the best I could do,” Pembroke answered. His fingers tapped the table. “Now, before we start. I want to make things clear.”

  Louis saw anger rise in Bertrant. The commander was ready for the worst and would certainly make a scene about it. Pembroke closed his hand on the table into a fist.

  “Bertrant, I’m sorry.”

  Bertrant was taken aback. Louis looked at Pembroke, startled. The man had his eyes downcast.

  “I fled when I should have been brave. My cowardice condemned you and your men. You showed me with your victory in Millhaven that the Rebellion still stands. I was wrong. My men are yours. Don’t make me repeat these words again.”

  Louis looked at his commander for a reaction. Bertrant stood gaping. Though Louis condemned Pembroke’s cowardice, he respected his noble decision. “We thank you for your support, my lord,” he said with a bow.

  “Well, yes. That’s a nice gesture,” Bertrant mumbled. “Let me introduce my captains. You have already met Louis,” the commander said, pointing at him. “Behind me are Faremanne, Selen, and Josselin.” Each man bowed at the sound of his name.

  “I still wonder how you plan to take care of the dragon. You don’t intend to charge frontally against it, do you?” Pembroke inquired.

  “We have found an artifact,” Bertrant said. He turned to Louis. “Show him.”

  Louis took out the pouch from under his armour and emptied it on the table, careful not to touch the vial with his fingers. Pembroke reached for the artifact.

  “What is this?” he asked, gazing at the object on all side.

  “It may stop the dragon’s fire. If it works,” Bertrant said.

  “May? If? Is it all you’ve got?” Pembroke stared at them, worried.

  “It’s all we’ve got,” Faremanne said.

  “And how does it work?” Pembroke asked.

  “The dragon must eat it,” Selen said.

  Pembroke was silent for a while. “And who came up with this brilliant idea?” No one jumped to take the blame. “Does one of you even know where the dragon is?” Pembroke insisted.

  “I do,” Josselin said. “Last time we heard of it, it was south of Earthfell. The city is in the mountains. In legends, dragons are known to live in mountains. It makes sense.”

  “So someone will have to ride to Earthfell, find the dragon, and make it eat that thing?”

  “I volunteer,” Josselin said.

  Everyone stared at him. “You don’t need to volunteer. We can find a solution,” Faremanne protested.

  “There is no need for you to do that, boy,” Bertrant said.

  “Look at me,” Josselin sighed. “Half of my face is missing. Let me take care of the dragon. Should I be remembered in this war, I don’t want it to be as a monster.”

  “But you will probably die,” Selen said.

  “And better me than you.” Josselin smiled.

  The words struck Louis like a bolt. Despite the selfishness of this thought, Louis had to agree on that and jumped on the occasion. “We will plan everything to give you the best chances,” he said, making things settled.

  “We have much to do the following days. We need to coordinate our troops. We also need to contact Elye and check the road south,” Bertrant said.

  “Contact Elye?” Pembroke repeated. “Don’t tell me you trust that adder.”

  “He wants to support our cause,” Bertrant said.

  “Elye support the cause of Elye. I won’t put my men in his hands,” Pembroke objected.

  “We need all the strength we can get. Besides, it’s best to have someone like him with us than against us,” Bertrant insisted.

  “What kind of man is this Elye?” Louis asked Pembroke.

  “The nasty kind. He sided with the Rebellion but never got consequences from Agroln. The gods know what kind of deals the man made,” Pembroke said, scratching his beard.

  That sounded bad enough indeed. Louis turned to Bertrant. “I can send soldiers to the villages and towns around. With the prestige of our victory, we will get more men, better men,” he proposed.

  “Do it, but I’ll still send the crows.” Bertrant closed the discussion. He turned to his captains. “When the men are ready, we will move south. We are only a few miles from Breyburgh. The city is under the control of Agroln’s troops, but we have to start somewhere. That will be all for today, Captains.”

  The four captains walked out of the headquarters, leaving Bertrant and Pembroke discuss other matters. The captains gathered in front of the pavilion.

  “We have much
to do in the camp,” Louis said. “Pembroke’s men must know that they are under our command from now on. We need coherent battalions. The same rules for everyone. Ours. We need to check their training and make a list of the stocks.”

  Faremanne grinned at Louis, his arms crossed over his chest. “He never stops, does he?” the captain whispered to Selen, who shifted from one foot to the other.

  “My men are yours,” Selen said with a broad smile. “We all heard it.” He winked at Faremanne.

  Louis smiled. “Let’s work.”

  At the end of the day, the soldiers’ tents had been built. Bertrant’s pavilion stood beside Pembroke’s. The two commanders had decided to raise a third tent to use as neutral headquarters. Pembroke’s men had received new orders. They would follow the rules applying to the Rebellion’s army. They were now under Bertrant’s command which, in other words, meant that Louis had total control over the whole camp. Under Bertrant’s supervision, he reminded himself. The captains had sauntered around the camp to show themselves to the soldiers and create bonds. Lists of the stocks would be made, and provisions would be gathered. Louis and Faremanne had returned to their tent, satisfied with the men’s work.

  Louis removed his armour and placed it on the rack. “I’m starting to believe that we may have a chance,” Louis said.

  “We will fight Agroln’s army and save the day!” Faremanne exclaimed. They both laughed.

  Louis liked the captain’s enthusiasm. If Faremanne felt fear or doubts, he never let them show. Louis considered that this was how captains should be. An example of courage to their men, a rock where they could find strength. Louis stepped behind the curtain. He removed his clothes, filled a large bowl with water, and washed his body.

  “I feel bad for Josselin,” he heard Faremanne say.

  “I know. Me too, but I understand the man.” Who wanted to die in his bed when there was a world to save? Louis only hoped that the man would succeed. His mission was everything or nothing, and the future of the Rebellion depended on it. Louis dried himself, rubbed his teeth with bone powder, and brushed his hair. The grass was cold under his feet. Considering their lack of chariots, all that had been judged superfluous had been left behind. It included the rags for the tent’s floor, some of the furniture, and unnecessary clothes. Only the commander’s tent had kept most of its accommodations intact. Louis put his clothes on again. The shirt smelled of sweat and felt unpleasant, but one of the rules of the camp forbade him from sleeping naked, and his second shirt, encrusted with mud, needed to be washed. He took the dirty garment and plunged it into the soapy water bowl.

  Faremanne already lay on his bed. Though he kept his beard trimmed, the man was not particular about his corporal hygiene. For most of the men in the camp, to wash meant to moisten their armpits and chest with a wet cloth. Yet, it was still a huge improvement since Louis and his friends had joined the camp. Louis glanced at the table. The board was bare. No rapport had come during the day. The lieutenants had until tomorrow. He lay down on his bed and thought of everything that still needed to be done. He thought of Selen and fell asleep, dreaming.

  Soon it would be over. Around him, the crowd roared with hatred, shouted insults, laughed. Blurred faces grimaced, spat at him. He would not deign to look at them. People he had only wanted to protect, to save. Their ingratitude had withered his heart. The demons had won. As they always did. Because they were legion. He felt the fresh morning wind on his neck. They had cut his long curls with a knife. Locks fell on his face, over his eyes. He did not care. He was only dust. They could take his body, put it to death; they could never take away from him what he had achieved or the dreams burning inside him. To live or to die, his own existence didn’t matter. The only precious thing they could have taken was his friend, and that was precisely what they had done. Therefore, he had chosen death. Only to stay at his side, to the end. Louis had always been there, to protect, to counsel, to hold him, as he had done the night before, pressing on his friend’s bleeding wound until the guards grabbed him. Now, to die together was all that mattered. Proud and calm he sat. He welcomed death. He longed for it. He despised the world that had rejected him, a world of crimes and injustice. For two years, he had fought for his country, for justice. The soldiers had admired him. They had followed his last command and had won many battles. Yet, others had taken the glory. Now, the same men would cover his name with blood. They would charge him with their sins as a scapegoat. The abrupt halt of the horses snapped him out of his thoughts. The guards grabbed him and pulled him down from the cart. Louis stumbled. “Wait,” he said. His voice was strong and clear again. He approached his wounded friend and kissed him. “Goodbye,” he whispered. His heart was breaking, but he would not cry. He had cried during the night when watching over him, under the scornful gazes of their captors, but he would not give the crowd this pleasure. Firm hands pushed him forward onto the scaffold. His body rammed against the wooden plank. His chest hurt. Louis smiled at the irony. He looked up at the bloodstained blade of the guillotine. He should have felt fright. He felt only relief. “At least, I have lived,” he whispered. Now, he belonged to the sky. As the board straps closed around his chest and legs, his sapphire eyes looked over the crowd, one last time, with a cold glare. They called him brave, he would show them that great men do not waver.

  Louis rose with a start on his bed with a strangled scream. His hands grabbed his neck. His chest contracted. Louis turned around, fell on the ground, and puked. It could not be. He was dead. His fingers dug the earth. His heart was swollen with tears. Why here? Why a second chance? Why alone? “Why?” he shouted, throwing the table down.

  CHAPTER 44

  “Selen!” Faremanne appeared in a panic at the entrance of the tent. “You better come. Quick!”

  “What happened?” His heart contracted.

  “It’s Louis.”

  Selen rose, his chair falling behind him. In an instant, he was rushing through the camp as if his life depended on it. He nearly stumbled in front of Louis’s tent. He took a deep breath and pulled at the flap, terrified of what he would see inside.

  It was mayhem. The inside of the tent had been trashed. His heart beat again; there was no blood. Yet, he could not see his friend. “Louis?” he whispered. “It’s me, only me.”

  “Please, leave, Selen,” a thick, wobbly voice said behind the bed.

  “What happened?” Selen asked softly while entering the tent. He approached with care and sat on the ground by the corner of the bed. “Please, tell me.”

  “I remember.” The voice was ice cold.

  Oh no, Selen thought, not like that. When he had learned that he had died, Selen had felt sadness at first, but his previous life had been austere and dull. He had never had a reason to live. Despite the war, this world had turned for the best for him. He had feared that it would be the contrary for Louis. Dread crept into his heart.

  “Tell me, how did you die?” Selen asked.

  “We fought for freedom, for a better world. We shared dreams. We killed the king. We won the war. Yet, sometimes there is more than one tyrant. There were factions, rebels, traitors… All those weak creatures, they hated us. They hated him. They wanted him dead. Unworthy of his words, all of them.”

  Selen barely understood what Louis talked about. Only one thing had struck him, and he wanted to know. “Did you care for him?” He hoped the fear in his voice was not too obvious.

  “I gave him my life. I didn’t want… I couldn’t outlive him,” Louis sobbed.

  Louis’s words hit Selen’s heart like a bolt. He did not dare to speak, afraid to cry.

  “I don’t understand,” Louis continued. “Why should I fight here? It’s not my land. It’s not even my world. They’ll turn on me. They’ll hate me.”

  “No, they like you.” It was not exactly true, many did not, but Selen did not care. “Remember what you said, with the community of feelings. It was a beautiful thought.” Selen’s words only met silence. “They need you, Louis
.” He grew desperate. He repressed his tears. “I need you.” His voice was a squeak.

  “Please, leave me,” Louis whispered, cold and distant.

  Selen stretched out a trembling hand to the corner of the bed but changed his mind at the last second. He jumped up and rushed outside. He stumbled on Faremanne. “Leave him alone, please,” he ordered, pushing the captain back. “Leave me alone!” Selen went away.

  Once back in his tent, Selen broke down in tears to the ground, gasping and letting his heart explode in silent screams as his world shattered like broken glass.

  The captains had been summoned to the headquarters. Everyone was there except Louis. Selen stood, empty and wrecked, nodding mechanically in approval. He had wept the whole night and day until his last tears had dried on his cheeks. Folc had stayed silent, patting his head from time to time, and hugging him. Selen looked paler than usual, but no one had commented on it. He listened to Faremanne with one ear. He could not care less.

  “We have received crows from Elye,” the captain said. “He wishes us to send a delegation.”

  “A delegation? I thought we had already reached an understanding,” Bertrant said.

  “Well, he says he has something for us. A gift of some kind,” Faremanne explained.

  “I don’t understand. I thought you did not trust the man?” Josselin said.

  “We don’t really trust him,” Faremanne said.

  “Then, why send a delegation?” Josselin asked.

  “Because we need to see what he wants. There must be a reason why he doesn’t give more explanation in his message,” Faremanne answered. “What do you think, Selen?”

  “Hmm. I don’t know. Send a lieutenant,” he mumbled.

  “You can’t send a lieutenant to a count. It’s insulting. Someone has to go. It may be important,” Faremanne said.

  “But what if it’s a trap?” Josselin retorted.

  “A trap against a delegation? It doesn’t make any sense…” Faremanne replied.