by Kyle West
With a start, I realized that we had arrived in Eastshore, the street opening into Silver Square. On our right rose the entrance to Silver Bridge, which spanned the Colorado, and on our left was the square itself, surrounded on all four sides by red sandstone shops, most of which were at least two floors. The Red Cathedral towered on the square’s eastern end, basking in the light of early dawn.
The Square was crowded, people in their finest Sunday wear milling toward the massive cathedral. White-robed Ministers were intermixed with the crowd, handing out candles. As my mother and I passed a Minister, he handed us each our white candle wrapped in wax paper. We continued toward the cathedral as the sun climbed above the buildings, bathing the plaza in golden light. I cast a glance back to the see the city across the river, its walls, towers, and domes glowing.
We ascended the stone steps and passed through the high, arched doors, the comparative dimness of the Cathedral’s interior making me see spots at first. It was quiet save for the movement of countless feet over old sandstone tiles carved with geometric designs. The vaulted ceiling rose high above, on which a mural had been painted long ago, depicting Elekim decked out in battle armor with the smoke, ruin, and fires of Ragnarok all about him. The great dragon Quietus rose above, which he shot with his gun, Berett, held in his right hand. By his side was the Goddess Annara with her sword, Katan, swinging to strike at the dragon’s flank. In the sky above circled more dragons, and further in the background were the other four gods – Samal, Retha, Makai, and Larana...fighting the Elekai’s horde of monsters.
The scene was of the Battle of Ragnarok, nearly four centuries ago, where the gods had defeated the Elekai and their demon goddess, Askala. Elekim had sacrificed his life to guarantee her destruction, where both would continue to battle until the coming of the Second Darkness. No one knew the hour of its arrival, but it was said that Annara would return that day, leading Colonia and the Army of the Dawn to defeat the Elekai once and for all.
Until then, it was up to us to pray to Annara and hasten her return. While Remembrance Day served as a holiday to pray to Annara, it was also the anniversary of the Covenant’s independence from the Elekai, who had once ruled over Colonia, and marked the beginning of the New Year. This year was the two hundred and fiftieth year since the Liberation, signified by the date 250 F.C. – from the Founding of the Covenant.
I, however, would be using my candle to pray for my father’s return, rather than Annara’s. I figured plenty of people would be praying for her, anyway.
My mother and I stood in the back, because there was no room for sitting. It wouldn’t be long before the cathedral was full. It was hard for me to see the front because of the crowd – I was a bit shorter than average – but I did get a peek at the altar between the shoulders of two people in front of me.
Along the altar stood a line of six priests, their candles held aloft but not yet lit. Everyone quieted – not even feet were shuffling. In the heavy silence, a single set of footsteps could be heard walking on the aged sandstone from the direction of the altar. I shifted until I had a better view. Unlike that of everyone else in the cathedral, this Minister’s candle was already lit. He walked first to the leftmost priest, and after bowing his head, began to chant in English. The strange words resounded off the cathedral’s interior, and instantly upon their being spoken, everyone lowered their heads.
When the words stopped, I raised my head along with everyone else. The refrain was repeated by each Minister, who lit the candle of the one next to him. This happened until all seven of the Ministers’ candles were lit. The people bowed their heads each time the chants resounded, until at last there was a long silence.
Slowly, the priests left the altar and began lighting the candles of the people in the front of the cathedral. Those people turned to light those behind them.
At last, after another five minutes, an old man in front of me lit my mother’s candle, and then she lit mine.
Soon, everyone in the cathedral had their candles lit. The leading Minister chanted again, and in perfect unison, everyone raised their candles. Once the invocation had ceased, the sound of moving feet filled the lofty space. I couldn’t see the front anymore, but I knew that people were approaching the altar and setting their candles down as they made their petitions. It would be at least half an hour before my mother and I got the chance to go up front.
The candles were long enough to last at least an hour. There was no time limit for making a prayer, but most got it over within a minute, while others took longer. The most devout could take hours. For the poor, Remembrance Day was the only chance they had to speak to Annara, because they couldn’t afford candles otherwise. A lot of requests could pile up over the course of a year, and a lot of requests could pile up for the coming year.
Finally, the people ahead of us began to move. My legs had grown numb from standing still so long. Thankfully, by the time my mother and I got in the line, it moved quickly. The front pews were now empty, because people were free to leave by the side door as soon as they had made their prayer.
When I made it to the wide altar, there were hundreds of candles spread out on the sandstone. I knelt, placing my candle gently down in front of me, closing my eyes and putting my hands on either side of it.
For some reason, I was a bit nervous. I didn’t want to mess anything up. If I did this wrong, I had to wait another year to pray to Annara.
Annara, I prayed. Please get my father home, as soon as you can. Let him be safe, happy, and well. My mother and I...we need him. We can’t keep living like this, not knowing whether the war will end. Hasn’t there been enough fighting? Annara, hear my prayer. Please bring my father back. If there’s only one thing I want, it’s that. And if you do it...well, there’s not much I can do for you, but maybe my one candle this year will be enough.
I opened my eyes and stood. My mother was done shortly after me.
For some reason, I felt as if she’d prayed for the same thing.
CHAPTER TWO
ANOTHER WEEK PASSED – A WEEK of working in the fields and going home so exhausted that there was little my mother and I could do but eat and go to sleep. During this time came more rumors, the common theme being that there was a battle and Colonia had won. At last, the Covenant made it official: there had been a battle at Coloso, and the Covenant’s victory had been decisive.
What wasn’t made clear, however, was whether this was the end of the war, or if Pontifex Valian and the Council would want to continue fighting. Everyone hoped for the former, but many Colonians, especially the old, fondly remembered the Covenant’s glory days when its borders held three times the territory they did now. Since the Grand Council was composed of old men, many believed they would want to continue fighting. Most everyone else, however, hoped and prayed for a merciful end to the war.
In the end, we were all in the dark. Even the Subura seemed restless, and the young men the drafters had missed the first time went to register their names for the legions.
As the week went on, excitement slowly transformed into anxiety. News would be coming soon – it had to be coming soon – and crowds outside the Dome of Annara and the walls of the Red Bastion demanded a final answer.
But the Pontifex and Grand Council remained silent.
***
The next Sunday, my mother and I went to the Red Cathedral again, more in the hope of getting news than out of piety. However, there was nothing but the Ministers’ endless English refrains.
By the time we returned home, the day had warmed significantly. Shara came by, and we ended up walking a mile upriver, past the last tenements of the Subura, carrying with us a basket of food. We stopped where a long, flat rock jutted across the eastern bank of the river, and we made our way over to sit on it.
We ate and talked for a while before Shara grew serious, and her blue eyes distant. The wind played with her shoulder-length blonde hair. She was pretty and tall, and there was a strength in her that told of long days working in
the fields.
“Something on your mind?” I asked.
It took her a moment to answer. “I guess now is as good a time to tell you as any.” She paused, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. “Today, I’m going to Eastshore to sign up for the legions.”
Now, that I hadn’t expected. “What? Why? The war is almost over! You can’t leave!” I would have thought she was joking, but her face was serious.
“I have to,” Shara said. “I don’t want to, but it’s about money. Mother and I don’t have enough of it, and the legions are the easiest way to get it. And if what they say is true about the war ending...maybe this is the best time to join.”
“You’re really serious about this.”
“I’m sorry, Shanti. I wouldn’t be if there was any other choice, but you know how it’s been with us.”
Shara was referring to her father’s death last year. There were stipends for war widows and their families, but in these difficult times, they were never enough to cover living expenses, even in the Subura.
I sighed. “I know.”
“They need people, and a recruit’s pay is three times that of a field hand’s, even for a woman. They need nurses, cooks, menders...”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t ever fight, Shara. Women are trained alongside the men, and if things get bad...”
“The war will be over, soon.”
“We don’t know that,” I said. “This could be just the beginning.”
As Shara went silent, a lump formed in my throat, making it difficult to speak. Shara was one of my few friends. My best friend. I didn’t know what I’d do if she left.
“What about your art?” I asked. “You’re so good. Can you really give that up? The Covenant needs talented painters, and if you could find the right master...”
Shara gave a sad smile. “What does that matter, anyway? It’s not like I can ever go to school. Not without money. The Artists’ Guild helps promising young talent, but not if that talent is a girl.” Before I could respond, she continued. “The legions are stable, as long as I can keep myself alive. We aren’t earning enough with Mother and me working the fields. She won’t let Nath and Juli work. Nor should they; they need to go to school, which also costs money. It’s lucky with you. You’re an only child, but my mother is taking care of three.” Shara sighed. “I’d really rather not join, but I don’t want my little brother and sister to live the same life as me. They deserve something better. When the war is over...they might be something. Even if I’m not.”
“You won’t be nothing,” I said. “You’re very talented. I’ve seen your work.”
“I haven’t been able to dedicate enough time to it,” Shara said. “Already, I’m falling behind everyone else my age. If the war had never happened, I’d probably already be getting commissions.” She shook her head sadly. “My art lessons were the first thing to go when we moved out here.”
“You have more talent than anyone I’ve seen. Even the stuff you do on walls with charcoal is really good.”
Shara smiled in memory. “Remember that one time the Peacemakers almost caught us?”
I laughed. “How could I forget?”
“I told him I didn’t do it, and he believed me, even if he caught me red-handed. He said no girl could have ever drawn that well.” Shara scowled. “I almost wanted to correct him there on the spot.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said. “His ignorance kept you from getting in trouble.”
“It was gone the next day,” Shara said. “I didn’t realize I was drawing Annara. I thought it was just you.”
The conversation lapsed into silence, and with the lull, my thoughts turned back to what Shara had just told me. I knew she was right, as much as I hated the fact. Our own wants and needs took last place when the welfare of the family was at stake. As someone without a talent of my own, I’d always been a bit envious of Shara’s abilities. She could draw people, nature, angels, gods, dragons, and strange creatures, all as naturally as breathing. I asked her how she knew how to do it, and she said that it was a bit like remembering. Her hand just naturally knew where to go.
“Maybe that Peacemaker was right, in a way,” Shara said. “None of the masters want a girl apprentice, even when I show them what I’ve done. And the paintings I’m showing them are years old. If I could just get my hands on some canvas and paint, I could show them how much I’ve improved.”
“They’re fools,” I said. “What should matter is your talent.” I looked her in the eye. “You can’t give up, Shara. How would the gods react if you squandered your talent?”
“What do the gods care?” Shara asked. “They probably care more about Juli and Nath going hungry. I’m old enough to know I need to take care of my family. That comes first. The army will give me sestes; my art won’t.”
Again, I knew Shara was right. I couldn’t argue against the steady wage the legions provided. Even I had thought about joining up, like every young person, but my mother, and especially my father, would be beside themselves. My mother and I still had enough to get by, so I had no reason to join.
“What will your mother think?” I asked.
Shara was quiet as she watched the flowing river, and her eyes seemed to be seeing something that wasn’t there.
“I’ve already told her,” she said. “We can’t go on living like this, and she sees that. My brother and sister need to grow up strong, not stunted like the other peasant children. They need meat, fruit, and vegetables...the things we can’t afford right now. As soon as I join, things will get better for them...I believe that.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait a few weeks for things to pan out?”
Shara shook her head. “We need the money now. If the war is over soon, then that’s even better. For all I know, they could station me right here in Colonia.”
“You should try the Artists’ Guild one last time. Make them listen. Take your paintings. Or better yet, buy supplies for just one more to show how much you’ve improved. I can help you out with money. Once they see...”
Shara’s eyes became defensive, stopping me short. “I’ve tried that already. Three times I’ve gone, and every time I’ve been humiliated.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m not as good as you think I am.”
“Shara...you know that’s not true.”
“Whatever the reason, there’s no point. I’ve done everything I could.”
I stared at the rock below me, trying to think of what else I could say, but there was nothing. I still didn’t think Shara should give up, but I knew that, in the end, she was right.
“I just want to enjoy my freedom while it lasts,” Shara said, seeming to sense my acceptance. “After this, we can both go to Eastshore. I want you with me when I sign up.”
“Shara, I can’t.”
“I just want you there with me,” she said. “I would never ask you to join.”
We talked of other things...old times, and by extension, happier times; but still, it was if we could both the feel the clouds gathering over Shara’s future.
CHAPTER THREE
I WALKED WITH SHARA TO Eastshore for her enlistment. Even if I thought she should try her luck with the Artists’ Guild one last time, it wasn’t my place to prod her in that direction again. People had to make their own decisions, and in the end, she was probably right; the army would give her a steady wage, and they didn’t turn anyone away as long as they were healthy and willing.
Though it was a Sunday, that hadn’t stopped the recruiters from setting up their usual table outside the Red Cathedral. They each wore chain mail, covered with a tunic dyed deep red, bearing the katana and crook of Annara. The bright dye was mainly for show; Shara would certainly be wearing a uniform that was drabber. Their armor was shiny in the sunlight, but they sat alone. The stream of new recruits following the Covenant’s victory had dried up by now.
We walked up, and even the recruiter seemed tired as he wrote Shara’s name on the official register. He
r name was the only one for the day.
Looking anywhere in the city or countryside, one could see the toll of war on the people. One was hard-pressed to find a man between the ages of sixteen and thirty-five walking the streets, and the ones that hadn’t been drafted had been forced into it by the rest. In the beginning of the war, groups of women, called the Warrioresses, sometimes went around the city, handing white scraps of linen to any man who looked to be of service age. The white represented cowardice, and the act was meant to shame the man into enlisting. One time, I remember them handing a piece of linen to a boy of no more than fifteen, and my blood had boiled at the sight. To this day, I regretted not saying anything to that boy, and I hoped nothing bad had happened to him.
Some though, like my father, had survived from the very beginning. I knew that I was lucky. The Novans were not like ordinary men...they were bigger, stronger, and faster. Some even said that they were not men at all, but something else entirely...something monstrous. It was hard to know how much was rumor and how much was fact.
All too soon, it was done. Shara was to report to the Fields of Samal the very next day, south of Colonia. There, she would begin her training. It was to last two weeks before she was shipped by barge south to the front at Coloso.
“You’re doing a good thing,” the grizzled recruiter said, with a forced smile. “I wish more women would sign up. Many are even finding husbands out there.”
If they don’t die first, I thought.
“What about you?” the recruiter asked me. “Do you want to help bring our men home?”