Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  “Agroln,” the creature answered slowly. “Agroln…has touched knowledge beyond his control. I carve his throat with the sound of my voice. I shape his face in my image. Sometimes screams from his wretched, drowned soul pierce to the surface, before sinking again into the depths. A slave condemned to rot away in darkness.” As the thing spoke, the smell spread stronger like a perfumed poison. Lissandro almost gagged.

  “Whoever you are, the war is over,” Louis said with an unyielding self-control, though his face had turned grey, and his throat looked on the verge of retching. Lissandro speculated that, even facing Satan himself, Louis would break before he gave in. Lissandro put a hand on Louis’s shoulder.

  “Don’t talk to him,” he whispered. “It’s not a human anymore.”

  “The war,” the creature muttered in a guttural, hypnotizing tone. “The war is everywhere. It resounds in these walls. Can’t you hear the screams of the blades? Look at those faces. Unrested souls, offerings to the Devourer. Death and war are carved unlaced in the hearts of men. There is no escape. The serpent devours the rich as well as the poor before resting under the cypress, near the poisonous waters of the stream of sorrow. I do not need to subdue the earth to the yoke of slavery. It is already in chains. I have won the war.”

  Lissandro saw the panic on Selen’s face. Selen unsheathed his sword and dashed towards the creature.

  “No!” Lissandro shouted, but it was too late.

  The long fingers cast a wave of energy towards his friend. Selen rose into the air and shrilled harrowing screams. His body trembled, as if taken over by an epileptic seizure. His head tilted backwards and his eyes rolled upwards. His howling froze Lissandro’s blood in his veins. Only infernal creatures could display such psychic powers.

  “Nothing that pure can raise a hand to me. I feast on such essence,” the creature hissed with a savoring grin.

  Lissandro saw the hand twist to increase the torture, but Louis was already on the creature, ready to strike. The creature let go of Selen and swiveled towards Louis. With the twitch of a finger, he flung the sword away. Louis had no time to notice before one bony hand closed its grip on his throat and raised him high.

  “What an interesting soul,” the creature hissed in Louis’s face. “A much better vessel than Agroln.”

  The nails cut the flesh on his friend’s throat. Blood pearled. A drop dripped along one nail slowly down to the finger. At the sight of the scarlet liquid, the creature curled up its wrinkled lips. And there, Lissandro saw. He knew what he was facing. He smiled.

  Under the iron grip, Louis panicked. He struggled and scratched the elongated arm. Lissandro saw the terror in Louis’s eyes. He knew that the grip was not the only reason; there was more than the eye could see. The creature tortured Louis’s mind, feeding on his thoughts and fears. His extended, reptilian tongue licked the beads of blood in delectation.

  “Let him go,” Lissandro ordered.

  “Your turn will come,” the creature told him without turning his head. Drool slid on his chops.

  “Are you deaf?” Lissandro insisted. “I told you to let him go, putrid pile of feces.”

  The thing turned his head in irritation. His face was as nasty as the one of a lizard. “If you insist,” he hissed.

  The hand let Louis fall to the ground. A white, scrawny arm stretched towards Lissandro. He thought of his nightmares. He deeply hoped he was right. In the corner of his eye, he saw Selen awaken. The creature’s arm cast a wave of energy. Lissandro felt nothing and moved forward. He sensed the teeth grow in his mouth. He rubbed his tongue against them, relishing the feeling. The creature cast another wave, in vain.

  “It’s impossible!” the creature snarled.

  “It’s not,” Lissandro replied, showing his two long, sharp canines. “I am of your blood.”

  “If you are my kind then you can’t kill me. You are young. I am stronger!” the creature exclaimed in rage.

  “I was your kind,” Lissandro pointed out. “I have reached salvation. My soul has been washed of our ancestors sins. I am a child reborn.” Now, he could see the terror in the creature’s eyes.

  “No! You can’t be! Not in this world!”

  “But I am not from this world.” Lissandro grinned. Selen, Louis, now! Lissandro shouted in his mind. His friends grabbed the creature by the arms and held him as hard as they could. Lissandro rushed forward and bit deep into the flesh. He severed the throat like a wolf on its prey, ripping it apart with his hands. Black pus squirted from the torn flesh and the splintered bone excrescences. Lissandro spat. He knew he could not swallow a gulp of this blood. It was poison for any man and probably worse in his case.

  The body of Agroln fell on the floor, the head attached by pale ropes of tendon from the spine. The flesh structure around them went ablaze. It disappeared into nothingness, leaving only heaps of mutilated bodies and bones behind.

  “It is going back to hell,” Louis said, his voice hoarse. He crept and leaned against the throne. Slowly, Louis turned to him. “I will try to remember never to make you angry,” he chuckled. “Are you even human?”

  “In this world, I am human, but it was not always the case. I could do this because the creature’s presence compelled me to. I have no power anymore.”

  “Good. We don’t need to stick you with a stake,” Louis teased him. “Selen, are you all right?”

  “I am,” Selen answered. Lissandro saw Selen creep towards Agroln. His friend unclasped the circlet from the dead king’s forehead and came back to them. “Put it on,” Selen said to Louis.

  “What? No! There is no way I am going to be king,” Louis protested.

  “You are the best fitted to it. You are a natural leader. You are honest,” Selen insisted.

  “It is against all my beliefs,” Louis objected. “Lilo, tell him.”

  Lissandro knew what giving absolute powers to Louis meant. At the same time, he understood Selen’s motivations. “Selen is right,” he finally said, knowing he would regret it one day. “Take it as a second chance to make things right.”

  “But it belongs to the people,” Louis insisted, looking at him in dismay. “You know that.”

  “What I know is that if you don’t take that crown, unscrupulous men will fight for it, and it will be mayhem again,” Selen said. “Is that what you want?”

  “No. But, the institutions …” Louis said.

  And now it started. “This is the Middle Age! If you want things to change, you do it yourself,” Lissandro said. “Well, with us by your side.” He would insist on that, should he delay his journey a few months.

  “Think if Segar Mills takes the crown,” Selen said.

  It took two seconds. “Give me that thing,” Louis said.

  Selen fastened the silver circlet on Louis’s brow. With this simple gesture, Selen had crowned his king and had sealed their fate.

  They rose and were heading for the door when Pembroke entered the hall. At the sight of the corpses, he stepped back and put his hand to his mouth as if to retch. “What on earth!” He turned to them. “We started to worry. Have you killed Agroln?” The lord stopped, looking at Louis, aghast. For a moment, no one dared to move. “If it is so,” Pembroke said, “we will do it by the rules.” He moved towards Louis and picked the circlet from his forehead. “Follow me.”

  The four men went out of the great hall. Outside, the soldiers were waiting anxiously for the outcome of the events. When they appeared, the men expressed their relief and contentment.

  “Agroln is dead!” Pembroke shouted to the crowd.

  A clamour of triumph rose in the air. The men embraced and congratulated each other. The long years of war were finally over.

  “And we have a new king!” Pembroke carried on. The men fell silent and listened with attention. Pembroke fixed the circlet on Louis’s forehead. “Pray they approve,” Lissandro heard the lord whisper to his friend.

  The soldiers did approve and acclaimed their commander with glad shouts and exalted ro
ars. Ignoring his new status, Louis walked through the crowd to congratulate the men for their victory.

  “Are you sure you both know what you’re doing?” Pembroke muttered to Selen and Lissandro.

  “He will need help,” Lissandro said. “Will you help him?”

  “As much as I can,” the lord answered.

  “Why did you vouchsafe for him in the first place?” Lissandro inquired.

  “I have seen what the man has done with the army. I’m curious to see what he will do with this city,” Pembroke grinned.

  Lissandro would never have guessed that the lord was such a gambler.

  CHAPTER 59

  An hour after the death of Agroln, the captains and lieutenants were gathered on the esplanade in front of the palace.

  “I know that many of you and our soldiers long to return home to Embermire or Millhaven,” Louis said, “but before you all get your leave, we need to be ensured that no threat hangs over the capital. At the same time, we will need a force to assure the security of the population. I give you the task to recruit a city watch, as well as guards for the palace, among our bravest men. I will choose the royal guard myself. Have the infirmary installed in one of the cathedral outbuildings. One more thing, have a group of men pick up the bodies in the great hall. I want the place cleaned. Take your leave.” While the men dismissed, he turned to Pembroke. “Find the list of the stocks, spare rations for four days, and have the rest distributed in the slums.” He hoped there would be something left to give to the ones in need. The night before, he had denied Segar access to the supply train and had ordered that the man be arrested. Yet, Segar and his accomplice Jamys could not be found. “How long before we can gather a high council?” Louis asked Pembroke.

  “Now that Agroln is dead, I guess it will only be a matter of hours before the city notables swarm around you. Yet, you can’t gather a high council as long as you are not officially king.”

  “Well, let’s have the coronation ceremony tomorrow then,” Louis replied.

  “Are you serious?” Pembroke looked at him, astounded. “It takes days to organize…”

  “And it takes even longer to reorganize a country. The people wait for help. Tomorrow will be fine. Besides, I want to be crowned before I dismiss the army.”

  “You could keep the army mobilized until you consolidate your power,” Pembroke suggested.

  “And be a military tyrant as Agroln had been? No,” Louis felt already like a usurper, but he would not say it in front of Pembroke. “The people will accept me or they won’t. I won’t hold the men longer than a few days. The war is over. Everyone needs to return home. Pembroke, you know the city and its people. It should not be too complicated for you to contact the right persons.”

  “I will make the arrangements. In the meanwhile, I suggest you explore the palace. It is your new home, after all,” Pembroke said.

  Louis gazed at the palace. Your new home. The words sounded weird in his ears. He joined his friends.

  The castle was bigger than what it looked like from the outside. The prison tower was situated at the outermost corner, north of the stables and the inner courtyard. At the south corner of the yard stood a large tower with the library, the chapel, and the undercroft. A long gallery connected the tower to the great hall and to the long south aisle with the guests’ apartments, the kitchen, and the pantries. In the west of the gallery, stairs led to an inner garden. Over the roof in the west, there was a beautiful view of the mountains overhanging the palace. A peristyle of red tile circled the yard. The mullions of the first floor’s windows were chiseled, while the walls of the ground floor had only one door each and no windows except towards the gallery.

  “I suppose the royal apartments are in that aisle,” Lissandro said looking at the luxurious, oaken, golden door on his left.

  “Not a single window. With two guards in front of it, it will look like a cell,” Selen complained.

  They entered the solar. There were mullioned windows, stained glass in light green and all opening to the south. The walls were painted in ochre, and heavy tapestries covered the windows’ sides. The desk, the guéridons, and the cabinets were made of varnished chestnut. There were fauteuils and a love seat of crimson velvet and green satin. From the fireplace to the south wall, red carpets embroidered in gold treads littered the floor. They matched the long curtains circling the high, comfy, canopy bed. Golden and crimson patchwork covered the comforter. Here and there lay blue porcelain vases with dried flowers and silver, ornate candelabra. Louis regretted the vases were the only blue things in the room.

  “This is a nice cell,” Lissandro said with amazement.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Selen sighed.

  “It looks like Versailles,” Louis said. “At least, the idea I have of it.”

  “The door here leads to another bedroom, but I see no bed,” Selen said, puzzled. He had opened the door to the right of the bed.

  Louis came closer. “It’s a boudoir. It’s not made for sleep. It’s a kind of meeting room where you can…play.”

  “And I’ve found the toilets,” Lissandro said from the other side. “I mean, the garderobe.”

  It was the first one they found. “Thank God,” Louis said. “For a moment, I thought the court released itself behind the curtains.”

  “Yuck! That’s disgusting,” Selen said.

  “I agree, but so were palaces at my time, as I had heard.” Louis gazed at the bedroom again. He felt already uncomfortable to be in there, as if he were betraying himself. “I should not live here.”

  “You will get used to it sooner than you think. I, on the other hand, will forever miss running water. I would exchange any solar against a shower and a toilet with real paper,” Lissandro said with melancholy. “And toothpaste. A kingdom for a menthol toothpaste.”

  “Before you finish your list of your bathroom accommodations, maybe we could discuss the organization of the following events?” Louis suggested, slightly irritated by his friend’s superficiality.

  “Well, it’s simple. You become king and you can do pretty much whatever you want,” Lissandro responded while testing an armchair. “Besides, this is a kind of medieval society. It should be quite loose with the etiquette.”

  “I was not thinking about me. I was thinking about you two,” Louis said. He had a pretty clear idea of what he wanted. “You are no nobles, you have no power and no money. At least Selen is a knight.” He paused and sat behind the desk. “I can’t give you important charges in the government. It would sound as if I favored my friends. Therefore, I thought I could make you my counselors. We won’t share the crown, but you will stand at my side.”

  “This could work, indeed,” Lissandro said, “but we will need some responsibilities.” Lissandro was silent for a while, thinking. “I managed a company in my world. I could take care of the library and the crows. Archivist is a respectable task, not much coveted, and suits well with counselling.”

  “What kind of company?” Selen asked.

  “Fish sticks.”

  “Good you want to take that charge,” Louis said. “I will need a lot of documents. You can start your functions by finding me the codex with all the laws in application. I need it as soon as possible. Try to search for it today if you are not too exhausted. All my decisions must be in total respect of the laws.”

  “Prepare yourself to be deceived, then.” Lissandro chuckled. “Ever heard of primae noctis?”

  “Oh, please. It’s a legend,” Louis responded. “No one can come with such ideas.”

  “Yes. Men like Elye do,” Lissandro said. “What I mean is that you may have to adapt the laws.”

  “Louis,” Selen called him, sounding desperate. “I’m not sure I can do anything. I have never been more than a guard, and all my previous knowledge is useless here.”

  “You are not useless. You have been in a royal guard. You must know a lot about court organization,” Louis said. He thought of what his friend could do and how he could a
dapt it to the court. The answer appeared at once, obvious. “You are a physician. You will be the court’s official physician. You can use the garden outside, and I will install Brother Benedict in the palace. He will help you.” Louis saw Selen’s eyes gleam at the news.

  “Will we have our own apartments in the south aisle with the guests and nobles?” Lissandro inquired.

  “I have a better idea,” Louis said. “If all castles are organized the same way, the royal apartments should have many rooms, boudoirs, and such. I just need one room.”

  “You mean you want us three to live in the king’s apartments? Won’t it look strange?” Lissandro asked.

  “There is a whole aisle, two floors, and it’s better three than two,” Louis said.

  “That’s true. Yet, we have to remember that this is a palace. There are servants, maids, and guards roaming around all the time, and probably several dozen of nobles,” Lissandro said.

  “Do you mean that my life will be a permanent display?” Louis asked, frightened. He had heard of how the monarchs liked to make a show of themselves. Some kings wanted to be observed in the most awkward and intimate moments.

  “No, not at all,” Lissandro said, reassuring. “I mean that if you want privacy, the doors must imperatively be locked, or you put guards in front. Besides, people will make your bed, wash your clothes…you know,” he added, looking at Selen.

  “Can we refuse?” Selen asked.

  “No. Lords are served. You can do all you want: gamble your whole fortune, plot against your peers, shag maids in a corner, but not your laundry,” Lissandro said to Selen.

  “I have to go now,” Louis said. “I want to talk to Pembroke about tomorrow. Maybe I will meet some flies on the way.”

  “Flies?” Selen asked.

  “Solicitors,” Louis said. “Find yourself some rooms and make yourself comfortable.” He went out and headed to the great hall.

  The bodies had been removed, and groups of men cleaned the whole place. At this pace, it should be done before tomorrow. He met Pembroke on the esplanade. The lord came back from the city accompanied by Honfroi Tollbridge and a slender man Louis had not seen before. Judging by his elegant, crimson robes, the man could be a merchant or a noble.