Eden-South (20 page)

“You ready?” he heard Brutus call out as he
rode up on his horse. Callum nodded his head, tightening the last
strap. “Anything wrong, my boy?”

“No, just lost in my thoughts.”

“Ah, that is always a dangerous place to be.
We can ride it off,” he suggested, kicking his horse ahead. Callum
lifted himself up onto his horse and followed.

The training Brutus had put Callum through
when he first arrived had been painful and extensive. He knew
Callum wasn’t the best fighter, having focused more on the politics
of his position than on the combat side. Jameson always had been
the better fighter of the two. Brutus wouldn’t have that, though.
He insisted a leader had to be willing to be on the front lines and
to set an example for the other men who fought for him. He needed
to be a better fighter than most men, and a worthy opponent for the
best. Callum remembered many nights of tears, wishing he had just
stayed in the Capital and accepted Jameson’s position, but every
morning he would refocus and begin again. After the first six
months his body had completely changed; muscles were developed in
places he didn’t even think possible. His reflexes were fast, his
riding second nature. Now he would be ready for Jameson. The men
respected him, just as Brutus had said, and there were few in the
army who could beat him in hand-to-hand combat.

As they rode along the ranks, making their
way to the front, he saw the wagon being pulled not too far ahead.
He pushed his horse forward, riding up aside it to see inside. Rose
sat amongst the other girls; only nine were left. He could see she
had been crying, most likely for the loss of her fellow villagers.
She met his gaze when she raised her head to see him. He tried to
keep his face as neutral as possible.

“Are you okay?” he asked casually. She held
his eyes with her own before lowering her head without answering.
She was the most stubborn girl he had ever met, he thought, smiling
to himself. Kicking his horse, he moved away from the wagon to join
Brutus at the head of the ranks. Rose was still a mystery to him, a
factor in this whole situation he hadn’t counted on. When he had
found her in her home that night, he had almost lost his breath at
her beauty. That was what made him take her in the first place.
Then when he saw her trying to escape, all he could think was that
he couldn’t lose her. He didn’t want her to leave, couldn’t allow
it. Now he kept her with him and didn’t know why. She was half his
age, saw him as a tyrant, a monster. He had killed her parents,
burned down her house, taken away her freedom. There was no chance,
no room in her heart for any sort of affection toward him. She
barely wanted to speak to him, using any opportunity to lash out at
him for his offences. At some point he’d have to let her go,
possibly send her back to the mountains to become a servant in the
castle. He knew he should do it soon, should have done it already,
but for some reason he had avoided doing so.

Two men sped toward them, their horses
creating a cloud of dust. Callum shook his thoughts away and
focused on what approached. It was Godfrey and Stefan, two of his
best men, whom he had sent ahead to scout the area.

“My lord,” Godfrey said as they stopped in
front of them. Brutus held up his hand to bring the rest of the men
to a halt.

“What news?” he asked.

“The village ahead seems to have heard the
news about our approach. The men there seem to have gathered what
small force they have, and they are hiding along the pass
ahead.”

“Not very well,” Stefan snorted. “We could
pick each of them out in seconds, and none of them saw us. They are
clearly not trained.”

Brutus laughed his deep, rolling laugh.
“Never send women to do a man’s job, my boys! Let us go and greet
these men properly.”

They began to move ahead, Brutus giving the
others the signal to continue. Stefan fell in beside Callum, and
Godfrey was beside Brutus on the other side.

“What weapons did you see?” Callum asked
Stefan.

“Some had swords; most seemed to have bats
and wood axes.”

“Any archers?”

Stefan laughed. “No, my lord, and even if
they did, I doubt any of them could hit a target. The youngest man
there must be in his late forties.”

They rode on in silence, making sure their
conversation wouldn’t be overheard by the men who lay ahead. They
wanted them to believe they were being taken by surprise. A whisper
of what was ahead was sent down the ranks. The men prepared
themselves accordingly. Two hills lined the sides of the road. It
was a strategic place to plan an attack, if they had known what
they were doing. The men could easily have been trapped between the
two, but there were too many of them, and too few of the others. As
they reached the middle of the space, a large cry erupted, and a
group of almost a hundred men, as far as Callum could count, came
charging at them from all directions. Their whole guard wasn’t even
in the area. Callum shook his head: they had attacked too soon.
Amateurs, he thought, smiling and raising his sword and slashing
his way through the crowd. It didn’t take long for the four of them
in the front line to be on the other side, out from between the
hills. It hadn’t been a worthwhile fight, more like a waste of time
for them. Callum felt a warm liquid down his left side. He glanced
down and saw blood seeping through his riding shirt.

“You’re bleeding, my lord. Were you hit?”
Stefan asked, following Callum’s glance.

“No, no, it’s just an old wound that has
reopened.” He wondered if Rose would sew it up again for him. He
hated having his wounds sewn.

The remaining villagers didn’t stand a
chance. They had left only thirty men in the village with the
women, offering no sense of protection for them. In under an hour
the whole place was ablaze, the villagers disposed of. Callum hated
that part, finding no joy in the killing of innocent people. It was
part of war, though, he told himself. It needed to be done to send
a message to Jameson and the High Priest.

They rode until the sun hung low in the sky
before setting up camp again. He walked his horse to a pond nearby
so he could have a drink, while the other men set up his tent. When
he got back, Rose was already there, reading his book of war again.
She glanced up when he entered, a disinterested look on her face.
He couldn’t help but find her attitude humorous. Most women seemed
to be either scared of him or infatuated with him; either way, they
would always wish to please him in any way. Rose, on the other
hand, didn’t care what he thought about her and had no interest in
pleasing him. Normally, that would be frustrating for him, but he
accepted it from her.

“I see you’ve opened that wound again,” she
said, never taking her eyes off the page. He looked down at the
large red spot of dried blood on his shirt. How had she noticed
that?

“How—” he started before she interrupted
him.

“I saw it while you were fighting earlier,”
she replied nonchalantly. He couldn’t help but smirk.

“You were watching me?”

Her head shot up with a defensive look on
her face. Her mouth opened to rebut, but nothing came out. His
smile grew wider. Unexpectedly, a smile formed on her face. Callum
had always been good at making others smile. People had often told
him that his smile was so friendly-looking, it was contagious. He
had yet to do that with Rose, until now.

“It’s not like that,” she said, shaking her
head and looking back down at the book. He let it be, not wanting
to embarrass her further.

“Will you fix it for me again?” he asked
hopefully. It was the only time she had come close to him, besides
the time she had tried to attack him. She sighed in frustration,
which made him laugh out loud. Her head looked up in surprise. “You
are the only woman I have ever known who seems to find me
absolutely unbearable.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she replied
coolly. She meant it to be an insult, but he just laughed.

Callum got the needle and thread and waited
on the chair for her to come to him. Placing her book to the side,
she walked over slowly to him, visibly annoyed.

“What is it about me, besides my past
actions regarding your village, that you find so unbearable?” he
asked, looking down at her as she readied the needle.

“Oh, besides that minor offence?” she
replied sarcastically. “Um, it might have to do with your
insistence on keeping me captive, your complete disregard for
others’ lives, that disinterested, snobby look you always wear on
your face, and when you’re not wearing it then you’re either
completely miserable or mocking me. I think I could go on for hours
actually.” She didn’t look up at him, keeping her focus on what her
hands were doing.

“I think that will do, actually,” he said,
not wanting to hear the rest of her thoughts about him. His past
presumption was correct: there was no way she would feel warmth
toward him. It was pointless to keep her here like this. He let her
finish in silence, trying not to wince when she pierced the
skin.

“There, you’re done,” she said, sitting back
on her heels. “Try not to let it happen again.”

“I can’t make any promises,” he replied
truthfully. She got up and returned to her spot, picking the book
back up. “I think I will send you back when we leave this camp,” he
said, removing his boots at last. She looked up again in
surprise.

“Back where?” she asked hesitantly.

“To the mountains—you can work in the
palace. It will be better than moving with the army like this,” he
said, keeping his tone as detached as possible. He thought she
looked disappointed, but he didn’t want to stare, so he turned away
to focus on his map.

Rose’s breath was coming out quicker for
some reason. He was ignoring her now, looking down at his maps as
usual. She tried to read the book, but the words were blurring
together in front of her eyes. He was sending her away. She didn’t
understand her reaction to that. Didn’t she want to be away from
him? If she was able to stay with them, though, she might be able
to see her brother again. How was she going to convince him to let
her go farther? It was useless. He’d misunderstand her reasons,
which was the last thing she wanted to happen. Her mind reeled with
thoughts, picturing her brother’s face before he left. Felix was
the only family she had left, the only person whom she loved.

It wasn’t long before Callum got up and
climbed into his bed. Rose remained sitting, her back against the
end of his bed.

“I don’t want to go back to the mountains,”
she whispered. She wasn’t sure if he had heard her at first, until
he finally spoke.

“Why? You could die if you stay with the
army.”

She hadn’t thought about that, but she had
to insist. If there was any hope of her getting to her brother, it
was with them. She couldn’t do it alone, especially if he sent her
back to the palace. They would never let her leave once she was in
there.

“You won’t find him, even if he does survive
the fight,” he continued.

“Who?”

“Your brother. Is that not why you desire to
stay here?”

Rose looked over her shoulder at the prince.
His face was turned away from her.

“It’s the only reasonable explanation,” he
continued. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, which
made her feel uneasy. He was quiet after that, falling into a deep
sleep. Rose sat up for a while longer, wondering what her brother
was doing, or where he was. She missed him dearly. They had been
the closest of siblings growing up, being only one year apart in
age. It had been hard for both of them the day he left. It had
never occurred to them at the time that they would be the only
family they had left in only a short while. Sleep finally overtook
her, and she rested her head for the night.

The camp was in a flurry of action the next
morning as the men packed everything up again to move on. Rose
nervously waited inside Callum’s tent for someone to get her. He
had left first thing that morning, without speaking a word to her.
She had been awake at the same time, but he avoided even her looks.
It wasn’t a good sign. Rose knew he had made up his mind: she was
to go back to the palace, to lose any hope she had left. Now she
sat on his chair in defeat, tears silently running down her cheeks.
After almost an hour, the tent flaps were pulled aside. She had
expected the old woman, who was usually sent to gather her, but
instead Callum came in again. He stopped awkwardly when he noticed
she was crying.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, clearly
uncomfortable with her show of emotion.

She wiped away the tears and straightened
herself up. “Nothing,” she tried to say in a confident voice. “I
was just waiting to be taken away.”

“Taken away where?”

“The palace?” she said, in a questioning
tone.

“I thought you didn’t want to go there,” he
answered.

“Well, I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” he interrupted. “If you
want to stay, then you can stay, although after a few more villages
I’m not sure you’ll still feel the same way. War is never a pretty
thing, Rose. It would be much better for you if you stayed away
from it in the palace. Since you insist, though—” He threw up his
hands. He walked over to grab his saddlebag and then held out his
hand. Rose looked at it questioningly.

“I thought you could ride with me this time,
instead of in that horrible wagon,” he explained. Rose sat still
for another minute, before placing her hand in his and walking out
into the day. He helped her onto the back of his saddle, pulling
her up with only one hand. “Hold on tight,” he said as she wrapped
her arms around his chest.

CHAPTER TEN

Training over the last week had been
strenuous. Every day, Aiden would wake up as soon as the sun came
up, and he worked until long after it went down. After the second
day he had expected to be extremely sore from all the exercise, but
surprisingly every day he felt fine, and was ready to go. It wasn’t
only he who pushed himself, but everyone worked hard. There was a
sense of urgency amongst the men. The anticipation of what was to
come hung in the air around them, making every man in the King’s
army work twice as hard. Each day, he did a new thing. The first
day, he worked with Elisa on his archery, which was one of the most
embarrassing moments of his life. Not only could he not hit the
target, but he could barely keep the arrow strung before releasing
it. Elisa had been patient, thankfully, and kept working with him
until late that evening. By the time that it was too dark for them
to even see the target, he could at least let it fly in a straight
line.