Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  Lissandro looked at Kilda. The adjective ferocious suited her better than sexy or lascivious, if these terms could ever be applied to her.

  “Well, we only have one decisive battle to fight. It’s not as if we were preparing ourselves to pass winter. But she stays in her tent.”

  “She will. I insisted on that. Thank you, Commander,” Louis said.

  “Lady Hewald!” Pembroke stood by the headquarters’ entrance. He looked aghast.

  Lissandro saw Bertrant’s puzzled face and the appealing look Louis gave Kilda.

  “Lord Pembroke,” she answered with an ice-cold voice.

  There was a moment of silence where no one dared to react. Pembroke drew nearer. “I know you have reasons to hate me, my lady,” the lord said, “and I have no excuses. If I am responsible for your presence today, and your present state, I will do all that is in my power to help you.” The count bowed and looked down. Lissandro judged the man sincere.

  “I want to fight, and I want justice,” Kilda said.

  “Then, we welcome you in the Rebellion,” Pembroke said.

  They dismounted. Soldiers took their horses to the corral.

  “Any news from the east?” Louis inquired eagerly.

  “Nothing,” Bertrant answered with a troubled face. “We must wait.” The commander turned to him. “What is your name, young man?”

  “My name is Lissandro, Commander. I am an archer from the Windy Isles. I can tend to the security of Lady Hewald if you wish, my lord,” he proposed.

  “Do it,” Bertrant approved. “You will have a tent next to hers.”

  They heard shouts come from the east side of the camp. Soldiers ran towards them. “My lords! Commander!” The men looked troubled.

  “What is it?” Louis asked sharply with apprehension.

  “Refugees coming from Earthfell. The city has been burned!”

  CHAPTER 52

  The man had looked sincere. Yet, she still hated him. However, her friends could suffer from her actions. Kilda decided not to take her revenge, after all. Pembroke may die during the war anyway.

  As she had to stay in her tent, she had used her time cleaning her armour and weapons. Lissandro had visited her a few times to see if she needed anything. He had brought her food and found her new linen. They were men’s clothing, but they were still in a better state than her tattered clothes.

  The whole day had passed, and she was getting bored. She thought that maybe she could venture to the infirmary. She could always pretend a headache or a sickness of some sort. Kilda put her armour on and plastered her short hair to look even more masculine. Hopefully, the scar on her cheek would repel the men. She went out.

  The evening air was fresh and moist. The first stars shimmered in the sky. Between the braziers, the soldiers strolled back to their tents, casting long shadows on the white fabric. Kilda walked by the tents, unnoticed. The atmosphere was jovial. There were no drunkards or fights as she would have expected. Confusing her for one of their own, some men hailed her for a drink. She gestured a refusal.

  The infirmary was generously lit. Most of the refugees of Earthfell occupied the beds. There were people of all ages. They had probably thought that the Rebellion would protect them from the dragon. Obviously, they could not stay in the camp and would be sent to Millhaven on the morrow, unless some men decided to join their ranks. Kilda walked between the beds, looking at the sobbing faces and burned limbs. She remembered the villagers in their cages. So many innocents. What would happen with these? While she was lost in her thoughts, someone handed her a bowl of water and a rag.

  “You there. Make yourself useful,” a man in a brown cloak told her.

  Kilda looked around, holding the bowl in her hands. “I’m no nurse,” she replied, but the man was gone. She looked at the wounded on the beds and spotted a man who looked to be a soldier. At least, he had parts of an armour on. He was different from the other villagers. Kilda walked towards him. The man was unconscious. His blond hair was plastered with sweat to his forehead. He must have been badly injured as he had a long scar on his face. It made her own scar look like a scratch. She dipped the rag in the water and wiped his forehead. He was warm. There was something pleasant in his features on the unharmed side of his face. She moistened his throat and neck. As she moved closer to him, the blanket slipped. Kilda noticed with sorrow that the man was missing an arm. The wound had been cauterized with fire, probably with a blade. Some salve had been applied to heal the skin. She put the bowl away and decided to remove the man’s last pieces of armour. It must be unbearable for him to have that weight on his body. As she unlaced the pauldrons, the man opened his eyes.

  “Don’t move,” she said with her kindest voice.

  “Am I dead?” the man whispered.

  “No, you’re not. This is the Rebellion’s camp infirmary,” she answered.

  The man tried to chuckle but coughed. “Tell Louis that Josselin succeeded,” he muttered.

  “Are you Josselin?” Kilda asked.

  The man did not answer, but he raised a frail hand to her cheek, grazing her scar with his fingers. While she removed the rest of his armour, the man fell unconscious again. She decided to carry his message to Louis.

  Kilda left the infirmary and headed to Louis’s tent. The man was busy reading papers at his table. He noticed her presence at the entrance.

  “What are you doing here? I said you should stay in your tent,” Louis exclaimed, upset.

  “I know. I’m sorry, but there is a man in the infirmary who has a message for you. His name is Josselin.”

  Louis got up and hurried out of the tent. The man was shorter than her but strode fast. Kilda trotted behind him to the infirmary. He entered the pavilion and stopped.

  “Which bed?” Louis asked.

  Kilda pointed at Josselin. They reached the man.

  “How long has he been unconscious?” Louis stood by the side of Josselin’s bed, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I don’t know. I removed his plate, and he fell asleep. I came to fetch you right after. He only told me that he succeeded,” Kilda said. She sat on the side of the bed, holding Josselin’s wrist to check his pulse. “It doesn’t seem that he has more injuries besides his missing arm. He has not been burned.”

  “Do you think you could find someone who could tell us what happened to him?” Louis asked her. His tone had softened.

  “Of course.”

  “Summon Brother Benedict if you see him,” Louis added. “He is a monk with a tonsure,” he said as she hesitated.

  It was easy to find the monk. The man brought broth to a wounded woman.

  “Brother, excuse me. Louis calls for you.” She pointed towards Josselin’s bed.

  The man opened his eyes wide. “A female soldier. That is interesting. Welcome to our ranks, my lady.” He minced away towards Louis.

  Now, she had to find a villager who knew about Josselin. She went to the refugees who stood between the beds.

  “Excuse me, does any of you know the man over there?” They looked at her with incomprehension. She could see she was bothering them. “The soldier with an arm missing, do you know him?” She turned towards a woman who had burns on her shoulders and neck. “Do you know the blond man over there?”

  “I know him,” a soft voice said behind her. “I saw what happened.” A young woman sat on a bed near an older man. The girl’s hair was a mess and she had black rings under her eyes. She was in shock but unburned.

  “Could you come with me?” Kilda asked. The girl nodded. Kilda brought her to Louis. As the women approached, the monk left the bedside.

  “What did the monk say?” Kilda asked.

  “He said that Josselin’s wound is healing and that he could live, should his temperature fall,” Louis said. “Did you find a witness?”

  “I have. Can you tell us what happened?” she asked the young woman.

  “The knight faced the dragon,” the girl told them. “The city burned, and everyone fle
d. I was leaving the keep when I saw him. He stood in the yard, facing the beast. He attacked the dragon with his sword, but at some point, he just ran towards it. The beast took him into the air and ate his arm. When we saw the knight fall into the stream, a few of us hurried towards him. The men burned his arm, and we carried him with us.” She paused. “The dragon burned our city to the ground.” The girl looked at the ground as if contemplating the remnants of her world.

  “You will head to Millhaven tomorrow,” Louis said to the girl, “and when the war is over, you will return to Earthfell to rebuild your city. Nothing stays burnt forever. Rain will come, and life will grow back.”

  The girl looked at him as if pondering his words.

  “Was he on a mission for the Rebellion?” Kilda asked.

  “Yes. It’s a miracle that he even survived,” Louis answered. He bent over the man. “We know you succeeded, Josselin. You fought bravely. Songs will be sung about you,” he whispered. “Kilda? Do you think you can check on him from time to time? I would not like him to be left alone here.”

  “Of course. I will do it with pleasure,” she answered. The man had faced a dragon in a single combat in the name of the Rebellion. No one with such courage should be left to suffer alone.

  She stayed by the side of the bed throughout the night. She drowsed a few times. As dawn came, she rose. The monk attended to a man next to her. “I will rest a bit. I will come back later during the day,” she said.

  Kilda walked to Louis’s tent first. She wanted to reassure him of Josselin’s condition. The flaps were closed. She cleared her throat. “Louis, may I enter?”

  “Yes, of course,” Louis answered from the inside of the tent.

  Kilda came in. Louis sat at the table, already working on the morning reports. “It’s sunny outside. Should I open the flaps?”

  “No, please. This tent is a mess. I don’t want the men to see it.”

  Kilda looked around, searching for the mess. The bed was undone, and some bowls were probably in the wrong place. She gazed at Louis. “You look tired,” she said.

  “I could not sleep.” He rose and buckled his belt and sword. “How is Josselin?”

  “He sleeps soundly.” There were noises coming from outside. Kilda guessed that the soldiers moved towards their daily occupations. “He woke up a few times, but he is still too weak to speak. I will watch over him until he understands where he is.”

  Behind her, someone pushed one flap of the tent. Kilda stepped to the side, hoping to be unnoticed. According to the orders, she should have been in her own tent.

  “Don’t come in,” Louis said, fixing his dagger. “If it’s for a report…”

  “Should I stay outside?” a soft, silvery voice answered.

  Kilda turned around.

  The man standing at the entrance, at least by the shape of his arms and chest Kilda guessed it was a man, was stunning. As Louis had struck her with his cold beauty, this man had something entrancing, and judging by his hair, exotic. In an instant, the two men rushed forward and enfolded in a passionate embrace. Their mouths smiled and played with each other.

  Taken aback, Kilda was at first shocked, then she was moved by their sincere affection. When he noticed her, the mallow man interrupted their long kiss.

  “Don’t worry,” Louis told him. “It’s Kilda. She is a friend of…” Louis beamed as if he remembered something.

  “Of?” the man inquired.

  “So! Is it here you ran without saying hello?” Lissandro appeared in the entrance.

  “Lilo!” the man screamed with joy and jumped into Lissandro’s arms. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  “Me too,” Lissandro coughed. “Selen, you are squeezing me. Armour.”

  “I’m sorry. Lilo, when did you come back?” Selen inquired.

  “I found him in the prison. It was quite unexpected,” Louis said.

  “Now, you won’t get rid of me,” Lissandro joked. “And I have so much to tell you.”

  “I know, but Selen has to report to Bertrant at once,” Louis said. He turned to her. “Kilda, about, um… “

  Kilda looked at the three joyful men with a broad smile on her face. “Yes, I know. I will take it to my grave,” she laughed. She, who had been so scared at first to wear her husband’s armour, and who still felt uneasy walking through a military camp, wondered how much effort and sacrifice it must have taken such men to win their place. A heavy weight was relieved from her soul. For the first time in a long time, she felt good. She went out and headed to her tent lighthearted.

  CHAPTER 53

  Louis and Selen entered the pavilion. Bertrant still couldn’t believe that he would never see Faremanne again. The captain had fought at his side for a long time and had been like a friend to him. Louis had avenged his death, but it would not bring the man back. Many men died during war, but usually, it was on the battlefield or in the infirmary after the battle. Faremanne had died under the blow of a coward and a traitor, when he deserved a more honorable death. At least, they had cremated the captain’s body with all the honors and in the presence of all the soldiers left at camp.

  “I see you both look happy. I suppose the mission was a success,” Bertrant said.

  “We defeated the orcs and killed their general, Commander. There are no survivors,” Selen said with joy and a hint of pride.

  “And the dam?” Pembroke asked.

  “Intact, Commander.”

  “Good. This means that we can cross the Lowlands. Louis, I’d like to hear your report on our current situation,” Bertrant said.

  Louis bent over the map and pointed at their position. “We are here to the north of the Lowlands. The mountains close the Crysas Peninsula like a bottleneck. Once we reach the Falst River, we will probably be within sight of Nysa Serin. We can count that Agroln will throw all his forces against us and unleash the dragon. I have sent scouts to the north. No army is closing in on us from that direction. Nothing should come from the east and west either. We will have a frontal assault.”

  “How do you suggest we organize our troops?” Bertrant asked.

  “Spies mentioned orcs. This means they won’t have a cavalry. Yet, they may get reinforcement from the city. They will probably wait in the plain here where the ground is to their advantage,” Louis continued, moving the wooden pieces on the map. “Most of our forces are mounted. I suggest three blocks of cavalry here and there on the sides, and here in the back a line of archers who will join the footmen once the melee starts. The footmen can form a block between these marks. I want every single man on the battlefield.”

  “This sounds good,” Pembroke said, “but where will we stand?”

  “I don’t understand your question,” Louis answered.

  “I think what Lord Pembroke asks you is where he should position himself,” Bertrant clarified the count’s thought, knowing already what Louis’s answer would be.

  The answer fell like a razor blade. “There,” Louis said sharply, pinning a flag on the front line.

  Bertrant looked at the count. The man was ill at ease. Bertrant thought he could give him a little push. “Whatever the result, it will be our last battle. I intend to get the best view of it, and what better place than the front?”

  “Yes, of course,” Pembroke mumbled.

  Louis stared at the count with a condescending look. Bertrant cleared his throat. His captain turned to him. “And what of the dragon?” Bertrant asked.

  “Josselin confirmed that the beast swallowed the artifact. We can only pray it works,” Louis answered.

  “And where will you and your friend stand during the battle?” Bertrant knew that there would be a thorn here.

  “I suggest Selen rides in the middle of the front line. As for myself, I intend to be here,” Louis replied, pointing at the front.

  Bertrant looked at him with hopelessness. “Louis…”

  “Or you may want to stand there,” Louis mumbled.

  “Well, then it’s settled. We will march a
t dawn. Have the men rested and ready. And it includes you as well.” Bertrant told his captains. They took their leave.

  “I guess tomorrow is our last day,” Pembroke said.

  “Probably. Will you keep your word and stand until the end?”

  “I will.” The look in Pembroke’s eyes was resolute.

  Bertrant left the tent and sauntered around the camp. He looked at the men he had shared his life with over the last four years. They saluted him and hailed him cheerfully.

  “Shall we slice some orcs tomorrow?” Bertrant exclaimed.

  “Yes, Commander!” the men cried out.

  “Good! Then I hope to meet you after the battle so you can tell me all about it.”

  “We will, Commander.” They raised their mugs towards him and laughed.

  Bertrant did not discern fear in them. This would come tomorrow when the enemy would be in sight. Now, the men longed for action. Louis had filled their hearts with pretty thoughts of honour and victory. Bertrant had added an extra ration of beer to it. Just in case.

  He passed in front of the infirmary and met Kilda.

  “My lady. I hope your stay among us has been without incident,” Bertrant inquired.

  “Your men have been very polite, my lord. I look forward to fighting with them tomorrow.”

  “Will you be on the battlefield too?” Bertrant asked, still unsure if it was a good idea.

  “I will ride with the cavalry in the front row. That was where my husband fought.”

  “Lord Hewald,” Bertrant said. “He was a good, honorable man. He fought bravely. I was there when he fell. You honour him, my lady. I do not wish you for you to meet the same fate.” He remembered Lady Hewald when she was still wearing dresses, strolling at the side of her husband. He had not even recognized her in her husband’s armour. The woman had been through so much. He admired her courage.

  “I thank you, my lord, for giving me this opportunity to fight in the Rebellion.”

  “And I thank you, my lady, to have given me the chance to correct my foolish decision to deny you this right the first time.”