The Heroes Fall -1- When War Calls

by Zy Rykoa

  ‘What were you doing with my girl?’

  Lost in his thoughts, Jaden had turned a corner and walked straight into Ardim.

  ‘I was nowhere near your mother,’ said Jaden instinctively.

  Ardim pushed Jaden backward. ‘That’s a big call for a little man,’ he said.

  ‘That’s a big sentence for a dumb man. Been practicing?’

  ‘Your mouth is going to get you hurt.’

  ‘Why, you going to throw another rock? Get out of the way, cheat.’

  Jaden had no sooner said the words and tried to push past Ardim when he wished he hadn’t. Ardim was not alone this time. His team joined him, coming out of the darkness behind.

  ‘What did you call me, runt?’

  Jaden backed away as they advanced. He didn’t reply. There was nothing he could say now. He knew exactly what they had planned.

  ‘I think you’ve had enough fair treatment,’ Ardim went on, mockingly. ‘You need to learn your place.’

  They wanted a fight. Jaden thought about his leg and its condition. It was still sore where the bruise was, he would lose some speed, but it would hold long enough. This was going to be anything but a fair fight. He could probably have handled two, maybe even three of them, but not five at once. He didn’t have a choice.

  With a quick turn he was away, racing far from them before they had a chance to grab him.

  ‘Wimp,’ he heard Ardim say after him, but quietly enough so that he would not get any attention from the houses they were passing.

  Adrenalin pounded through Jaden’s veins, making him run faster and causing the feeling in his legs to vanish. He knew he couldn’t run from them forever. He was too tired from the match. Eventually they would catch him, but they would be tired, too, so the first chance there was, he knew he had to lose them. He leapt up on top of a wall, deciding going up would be his best chance. He used the wall to grab at a ledge, which he climbed to get on the roof of a house. He ran across the flat and jumped to the next house. The house after that was too far for a single jump, so he climbed down quickly before they could see him racing through the gardens. They would never have attempted to follow him over the roofs.

  ‘Where is he?’ he could hear one of Ardim’s team calling out, no longer cautious of drawing attention to themselves.

  ‘Not here,’ came the reply.

  ‘I think he’s over there!’

  Jaden ran around the grassy areas and through ferns and trees until he reached the plantations. Having worked in the fields almost every day, he knew the routes he could take to confuse his followers, and soon enough he was out of their reach, climbing up the eastern mountain, high through its dense foliage that scratched at his arms and legs, and to a cave that only he knew about almost at the top. This was his sanctuary for such times, or when he simply needed a rest.

  They would be looking for him below, searching the entire village before growing bored and abandoning the hunt. It could take up to three or four hours for this to happen, but there was nothing else to do but wait.

  Lying back against a smooth stone, he looked up at the stars. The rings were still shining brightly. They put him at ease, and as he forgot about Ardim searching for him below, he drifted into an exhausted sleep. He would deal with Ardim in the morning.

  Chapter Four

  Some memories are better left forgotten.

  January 10, 997 R.E.

  Jaden remained asleep on the cave’s floor, his dreams revealing a haunted landscape he had never before witnessed. Shadows of clouds moved rapidly across the dry, swollen surface, pushed by the same harsh, blistering winds that made the hills wail their terrible melody. The sky glowed with a sickening orange, broken only by the black of the storm clouds above him. He was alone in this tortured place, without even a sign of civilisation for as far as the eye could see.

  The only things alive seemed to be the ashen grasses beneath his feet, but they barely clung to life. They longed for moisture, teased by the clouds that would not rain; forgotten by those giant ghosts that floated so close and yet so far away. The grasses had known the need of their cure since first rising through the earth, enjoying tastes of what little was given, but they had become hardened and untamed, forced to survive in this savage, barren wilderness.

  It was here they had come to know their creation. It was here they would come to know their end.

  Like the grasses, Jaden was here for something—something he needed to survive. But if the grasses were simply in need of moisture, for what was he searching? What was his need?

  Jaden could understand their existence, as it was not so different to his own. Like them, he was at the mercy of the natural world, and he too relied on his ability to adapt. With each step, he could feel the dry blades fold beneath his feet. They would bend as far as they could to survive, and then they could collapse, beyond repair. It did not seem right for him to walk upon them with this new found kinship, but he consoled himself in knowing that nothing would last forever, and all that was before him was already doomed. The little water about would disappear, the dirt would be poisoned, and the sun would scar the ground so that nothing would grow again. There seemed little purpose in going on to face such adversities when absolute demise was a certainty. But somewhere in the grass’s mindless existence, the urge would stay their hearts, and they would find peace, living in one moment, one time, satisfied by ignorance.

  Jaden walked on. Like them, he would not give up.

  As he reached the top of a hill, there was a prickling at his consciousness—the same he had felt at the waterfall. There was energy moving about him, spears darting in and around. It was the same sharp movement he had asked Alyssa about. But now they were only a faint whisper in the back of his thoughts. There was a more urgent matter in this desolate place, something strange and alien. He could sense death in the emptiness, a horrific fate awaiting him and those like him. It was something he had to find, to bring back, to stop the evil that roamed free around the world in its absence. The spirits of old were taking hold and protecting what was no longer theirs, in a time and place that nothing seemed to remember. He had to find what it was—the key, the relic—that was once held by his ancestors. He would sacrifice everything he had for it, to restore harmony to a reality of terror and mayhem, so that beauty might be known once more on the planet. This could have been what he was here for; his cure, his need.

  He stood his ground as strong gusts of wind threatened his balance, blonde strands of hair whipping at half-closed green eyes, momentarily blinding him. The spirits must have been testing him, he guessed, or warning him not to go any further. What lay ahead in the darkness was not for the vaguely aware, nor the faint of heart.

  The gusts softened into a breeze, allowing him sight and movement again. He could go on searching—if he dared.

  He stopped.

  It had come. Whatever it was he was here to find, to see, to take … it was here. And now that he had it within his grasp, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. No more did it hold promise of peace and harmony. It carried with it only bloodshed, betrayal and destruction. It felt as nothing else. Hate, evil, a hybrid of all that brought ruin. It could not be understood. It was an impossibility of creation itself, a paradox conjured in the most twisted of minds and set free only to wreak havoc among those that wished to live, to grow, to know happiness. It was the enemy, not the cure as he had thought. He was not to embrace it. He was to destroy it.

  Behind him, he could feel its source moving closer. He turned, blinded again by the searing hot winds as he was forced to his knees and held down. He could sense nothing holding him, but he could not get up, nor move at all. He was allowed only to look to his right, where there was a dark line heading west, down by the black, oil-like sea. He judged the line to be a military force; servants of war seeking their next victims, thousands of men marching alongside the many hundreds of armoured vehicles, all sent for no other purpose than to inflict more pain on the innocent.


  He lowered his head. It was a sign of the war’s continuation; a sign of which he had wished to remain ignorant.

  The wind slowed. The war would be forgotten for now. There was still the greater danger at hand.

  He looked to where he had felt the evil presence, no longer hindered by the wind or strange force, yet saw nothing. Vast expanses of dying yellowed grasses, through which he had walked only minutes ago, were all that lay behind him. In confusion, he focused back on the military force, feeling the need to find what he was looking for again. He then scanned the hills to no avail, just more barren fields of grass, and then he looked to the sky. It seemed lit with fire, even without the sun. There was a band of yellow too bright to look upon, stretching from horizon to horizon as it burned noiselessly in the outer atmosphere. His eyes fell to the ground as the light became unbearable and then he felt the blood drain from his face as his heart skipped a beat.

  Someone had come.

  Someone else was here.

  The newcomer was standing in front of him, as if suddenly appearing from the air. Jaden looked fearfully, expecting to see a beast of unimaginable horror, the bringer of doom, but was shocked to see only a boy—a boy with black hair, in tattered gray rags, seemingly of little threat or significance.

  Was this boy what he was meant to fear?

  With a shake of his head, Jaden lifted himself from the ground, believing now more than ever it had all been a lie, an illusion put before him to make him turn away from a quest that didn’t exist. Whether truth or fiction, one thing was certain; a boy of such an age shouldn’t have been out in the open, not in such close proximity to a military unit. He would take the boy home, if he could find it. Children were often stranded, left alone after being orphaned by senseless attacks. It was a sad thing, and inevitable in these times.

  He walked closer to the boy, hoping to discern his origin from his features, but the boy turned before he could reach him.

  ‘Your home, is it far?’ Jaden asked, not wishing to frighten the boy, but he then realised no words had come. There was no sound, not even the wind dared speak, the grasses now lying in silence. He tried to take another step forward and found even the freedom of motion had been taken from him. Fear had frozen the blood in his veins, as if the child in tattered gray rags had petrified him. It was the same as at the waterfall. Paralysed. He must have been closer than he thought to what he was here to find. He struggled, fighting the invisible bonds to be free again. Anger rose at this relentless, unjust imprisonment, yet it too was unable to surface, trapped deep inside by the ice of what held him still.

  He couldn’t let it win, he thought, he had to fight it.

  Suddenly the ice in his veins melted. There was a change. Something was different. He had lost all feeling again. He could only sense something around him, behind him. For a moment the spears became stronger and faster, and then they changed too. They blunted, yet were somehow deadlier without shape. They no longer felt like single entities, they felt more like … power. There was no other way to describe it. They had morphed into a power that felt as if an exploding star, in both temperature and proportion, was readying for release as it threatened to destroy all that was before him. It would mean the end; he and the grasses would be reaching their termination well short of their expected destinies. Their efforts would have been in vain. Jaden had to stop it, for the good of those he knew as family. His mind searched frantically for a way of preventing it, to delay it even just for now. He couldn’t let it happen.

  It was too late.

  His arms ignited in flame as it came forth and he screamed out in agony, cringing forward as even the air he breathed seemed to burn, and the earth beneath his feet shook with a fury unmatched by the strongest of quakes, and then … nothing.

  Nothing.

  He woke, struggling still to be free of whatever had held him. His arms were outstretched, performing erratic motions in the air until he realised what he was doing. Sitting up under the weight of his own consciousness, he no longer saw the barren fields of dying grasses, only the dark rock of the cave he had reached the night before. He stared out into the green of trees, blinded by the contrast from dream to reality. It was daylight. He had slept through the entire night at the cave.

  Alyssa.

  He had to meet with Alyssa.

  Without a second thought, he jumped to his feet and sprinted back down the mountain, scolding himself for not waking sooner. He had hoped to be at the stables before she went riding; if he hurried, he might still catch her, though he knew it unlikely.

  As he ran, he tried to think of what he was going to talk to her about. He wasn’t sure why he had asked her about the strange movement in the ground, but somehow he knew that she would have felt it too. Was this why he felt drawn to her like no other? Were they experiencing the same feelings because they were destined to be together? Perhaps he could mention the strange dream he had just had, as she may have had one too. He knew it might come across as too sudden, as they barely knew each other, but there was nothing else to talk about for now.

  His mind went blank as he thought of the dream; its shadow ever present in his memory, its feelings not forgotten, its evil still vivid in his mind.

  He shook his head. He had to forget it. It was just a bad dream. He couldn’t let it jeopardise his meeting, not now, not today, not when he had organised to actually speak with her. While he wanted to pursue his curiosity about how she had known about the sharp movements in the ground, he wanted to talk about her even more. If this didn’t go well, he could never be sure when he would get another chance, as Ardim was always lurking nearby.

  He reached the village an hour later. Out of habit more than anything, he checked to make sure Ardim wasn't in sight and then proceeded to the stables. Bo and the others were not at the flat stones this day, most likely with their families eating lunch instead. There were only the usual girls there and a group of children running around playing games happily that no one but themselves understood.

  Jaden then realised how long he had slept. The sun was already high. Alyssa would have already left. He let a long breath out as his shoulders fell in disappointment. He had missed his first meeting with Alyssa; now he would have to wait until she returned almost at dusk, and potentially risk an intrusion by Ardim. There was nothing else he could do.

  He felt like running to find Ardim now to let out some anger, to vent his frustration. But he would not succumb to his impatience. He would find something else to do. He needed a way of passing the time, to take his mind off what had happened, as well as the dream. He thought about helping out in the fields, but work right now seemed utterly repulsive. To have missed Alyssa only to spend the day doing something he didn’t want to do just didn’t seem right. He could go visit his friends or talk with the elders about the previous night’s game, but then, he wouldn’t want to intrude on his friends’ family time, nor be seen as a sore loser as he protested the defeat to the elders.

  He sighed. At times, Bo was right it seemed. As beautiful as life was in Callibra, it could really become quite boring.

  A loud thud sounded to Jaden’s right. He turned instantly as he heard a scream and then someone bursting into tears. It was a young boy, no older than five with the same shadowed blonde hair as Jaden’s. Jaden then realised who it was. It was his younger brother Tommy. He had tripped and fallen head first into the stables. Jaden ran to him, gently moving the other children away so that he could reach his brother.

  ‘Be calm, I’m here,’ he said to Tommy, who immediately reached out with his arms for Jaden to pick him up. ‘Where are you hurt?’

  Tommy put a hand to his forehead. ‘Here,’ he whimpered, his eyes red from the tears streaming down his face.

  ‘There’s a graze, but it will heal easily. I’ll take you to mother, she will make it better,’ Jaden comforted.

  Receiving a nod from Tommy, Jaden picked him up and began walking toward his home, trying to keep his step as light as possible so that he wo
uld not shake Tommy while carrying him. He remembered being carried in this way when he was Tommy’s age. Their older brother, Ryan, had always helped Jaden when he had hurt himself, up until a few years later when he left to fight in the wars. It didn’t make sense to him then, and it didn’t make sense now, why Ryan had chosen to go. Suffering from boredom in Callibra was bad enough, but to risk your life in a war to escape it seemed insane.

  Jaden often wondered if Ryan regretted his choice. Was he enjoying his new life? Would he ever return? He had not sent word in years.

  Jaden thought no more at that point, not wishing to venture anywhere close to the final question. He knew he would not be able to cope if the answer was anything but Ryan was still alive and well.

  As Jaden reached his home, he found his sister Embra standing outside. She was leaning lazily against a chest-high stone wall, appearing somewhat callous and mocking in her stance, as if she were watching something she thought was quite stupid.

  ‘Where is Mother?’ Jaden asked.

  ‘Inside,’ said Embra, not taking her eyes away from what she was looking at.

  Jaden went straight to the screen door and opened it with one hand, making sure not to hit Tommy as he walked in. He was then in the living room, where the warm cream-coloured walls calmed him a little. They were lined with white to match the roof, and the tiles were a peach orange coordinating with the darker beige of the furniture. The room was full of rugs of intricate design, uniquely carved tables, delicately painted pots and exotic plants. Unlike most of the houses in Callibra, many of the things possessed by the Daiyus family came from other nations, brought here by his father and grandfather alike. It had become the unspoken yet acceptable reason for jealousy among his people, and another excuse for Ardim to bully him. Yet their reason for hate was his reason for comfort. This was the home he cherished, his sanctuary. Those he loved and loved him in return had raised him here, and he would not have traded it for anything, not even if it meant less taunting from the village.