Cara pushes her way between the two men. “Hello, Chris.”
A light dances across his eyes for an instant but no smile reaches his lips. “Mistress Cara, what a surprise it is to see you here, although I wish it were under better circumstances. I trust you bring news of the utmost urgency.”
Cara nods and indicates her companions in turn. “This is Cole Blader and this is Ashe Sylvan. They are new recruits bound for the Nesthra Islands. Our paths crossed on our journey here. You can trust them.”
Humor plays across his features. “That I will decide for myself.” He looks at the two men. “I am Lieutenant Christopher Atkins and when on the mainland I am your commanding officer. You will address me as ‘sir’ and I expect no less than the utmost regard for myself, your own persons, and your peers. We are fighting a war. Squabbling amidst the ranks will not be tolerated. Save your rage for the enemy. Is that understood?”
Cole and Ashe reply in unison. “Sir, yes sir.” Cole shifts his balance from one foot to the other and ventures. “Sir, may I ask as to where are all the men?”
Lt. Atkins clasps his hands behind his back. “That, Private Blader, is exactly what I would like to know. A week ago three thousand men set out to secure the area. The last reports brought by a rider indicated that they should have returned yesterday morning. We are scheduled to ship out on the morrow with six-thousand men, but half of them are missing.” He runs a hand through his short, thick brown hair. “I have sent out twelve scouts and all have returned empty-handed.”
Cole and Ashe look at each other in a silent understanding. Cole speaks. “Sir, we believe we know what has become of your three thousand men. On our way here, we encountered a score of monsters. They had been chasing Cara here but beforehand they slaughtered an army of three-thousand men.”
Lt. Atkins sits in the leather chair behind him. “What proof can you offer of such an outrageous testimony? For I find it difficult to believe that only twenty creatures of the dark could defeat three thousand men. And what is more intriguing is that, if your tale is true, you encountered the same number and live to tell the tale.”
Cole replies, “I am offended by the implication that we are somehow in league with these foul beasts, and you should do well to thank us for providing the information that others have failed to obtain. And not only do we live to tell the tale, I can assure you, as can Cara, that the dark minions which have plagued this camp are no more. As for proof of our testimony as to the fate of your men, I can offer none for their bodies are in the hands of the enemy. We arrived at the battle site after the fact, but the stench of blood and magic still hung oppressively in the air.”
Lt. Atkins scoffs, “If there were no bodies, how can you be sure there were three thousand, much less one?”
Cara asserts herself, “For one who preaches of unity, Chris, you seem rather eager to instigate a fight. You are the officer here, so command your behavior.”
Chris accuses her, “And you seem rather eager to defend this man whom you have just met, Cara.”
Rather calmly she retorts, “He doesn’t need me to defend him. I am merely warning you that you are crossing the line and that you have passed a rather unfair judgment upon someone whom you have not even made an effort to know. And your cruel insinuation indicates to me that you still harbor the grudges of your past. I could very well be equally cruel and state that your change in character is suspect.”
Speaking as if Cole was not even present, Chris glowers, “Why do I have the feeling that you trust this stranger more than you trust me at the moment?”
Cara leans down to rub the fur behind Shadow’s ears, looking meaningfully into Chris’s cold eyes. “Perhaps, because I do. There is a traitor in Oracle Seven. This message serves as a warning, and however you construe this warning is entirely up to you.” Weary of the tense transaction, she exits the tent with Shadow loping alongside her.
Cole watches her leave, his mind trying to piece together the jumble of information he had just received, and Chris watches Cole, trying to discern the manner of the man whose very presence disturbs him. Cole runs after Cara, oblivious to the attention being paid him.
Ashe clears his throat, speaking for the very first time, “Sir, do you believe in God?”
Unperturbed by the question, Chris answers resolutely, “He has always been there for me, guiding me and revealing to me who He is. And knowing who He is, I trust Him completely. He gives my life purpose and offers a hope in a world that would otherwise be meaningless. So yes, I believe in God. How could I not?”
Visibly relaxed, Ashe smiles. “Then by the strength of your conviction I see that you are no traitor. Now, let me confide in you something that may prove to be enlightening.” He leans forward as if in conspiracy. “If you have faith in God, and man was created in His likeness, would it not also be prudent to have faith that He is at work in the life of your fellow man?”
Staring at Ashe as if seeing him for the first time, the lines stretched across the lieutenant’s brow become less pronounced and his eyes dance with some thought akin to kindness. This silent moment of appraisal passes and he once again focuses on his duties, placing before Ashe a crisp piece of parchment accompanied by a quill and ink pot. With a command to his voice inherent of his position, Lt. Atkins speaks, “The paper reads: This is a contract for military service. A consignment of three years serving under the banner of the Golden Bear of the Emerald Army is to be initiated upon day of receipt. Be informed that desertion will be considered an act of treason, and the punishment is death. The conscripted person shall exhibit conduct becoming a soldier with the utmost regard for all persons involved with an emphasis on the citizens of the enemy state. Any case of an atrocity committed against members who pose no evident means of harm shall be prosecuted by a court of law, and in the case of a guilty party those involved shall be dishonorably discharged from the military.
For participation in the military, the enlisted member is warranted a starting monthly salary of five hundred Gems. This amount is subject to change. Weekly allowances ranging between ten and one hundred Gems may be awarded for merit, leadership, contribution, and/or physical achievement. Each soldier shall be supplied with uniform, boots, sword, knife, and blanket. Those serving as medical personnel shall also receive these accoutrements along with the supplies necessary of the profession. When in camp only, daily meals shall be served and fresh linen may be furnished upon request.
Early termination of military service will only be granted for reasons of the medical nature. If the soldier is severely wounded in battle in such a manner as to be unable to perform the tasks required of him/her, he/she shall be honorably discharged. Should the wounded soldier choose to remain in the army, he/she shall be evaluated and, if seen fit to serve, shall be assigned to a stationary position at headquarters. Afflictions of the mental or emotional nature that interfere with the performance of the soldier are to be considered case by case, and if severe enough may warrant discharge in a manner as seen fit by a court of law.
Temporary leave, however, may be granted by special request taken to the commanding officer in charge of the specific unit of which the soldier is assigned. Such a request must be written and must be authorized in order to be official. Be informed that this is only a request and the granting of it is not guaranteed. In times of war, absence without leave will be handled as a desertion.
Upon completion of term of service, the soldier must turn in sword and knife as supplied by the Emerald crown as well as any medical supplies but may keep uniform, boots, and blanket. A monthly salary in accordance with the amount earned in the final month of service shall be awarded for a full year after completion of consignment requirement, provided that the person remains an exemplary model of behavior and holds allegiance to the crowned king of Smithee.
This contract is lawfully binding and any breach will be considered a crime. If you understand and agree to the terms as described above, sign your full name in the space provided.” Lt.
Atkins clasps his hands behind his back as he concludes his reading, patient and reserved as he lets Ashe read the contract for himself.
Humor plays across Ashe’s features as he reads the last line. “This makes it sound as if I really have a choice.” Dabbing the quill in the ink, and somewhat amused by the attention to tradition, he signs his name and pushes the document across the table towards Lt. Atkins, who signs it as well. Ashe stands at attention. “Sir, it shall be an honor to serve my kingdom under the command of an officer such as you.”
Lt. Atkins nods. “Yes, but I doubt your friend will share the same sentiments. Have him report back to me as soon as possible.”
Ashe salutes and turns to leave, but Chris beckons him, “On second thought, stay. I make it a point to get to know all who are under my command.” He motions to the chair and smiles warmly. “So, Private…. Pardon me, I seem to have forgotten your name.”
Ashe takes the seat proffered, clearing his throat uneasily. “Sylvan, sir.”
Recognition dances across his features for an instant, before settling into the stern repose becoming an officer. Lt. Atkins shifts slightly in his seat, however, and his smile seems to be more forced. He continues, “Ah, yes, you must be from the Sylvan cottage nestled between the two great woods that cover this continent.”
“I was not aware that the cottage was so famous, sir,” Ashe replies warily, contemplating the manner of this man of which he had been so certain only a moment ago. He peers around the small tent, noting the various maps and books. They are mostly books on strategy, history, and geography, but a few on mythology caught his eye. Jessica had always loved reading the mythos of Ilia, having always been fascinated by the unusual and mystical realms as created by these fantasies. He himself had always thought them to be exaggerated, but he could not deny their basis on truth considering the circumstances. In truth, he had only been considering the circumstances without focusing on what they meant. From the day he received the summons, his goal had been to get to Cape Terna; and now that he is here, he finds himself pondering a simple question—why?
Lt. Atkins speaks. “Is there a particular volume you are searching for? I must apologize that my collection is not as extensive as I would like, but feel free to borrow anything that may seem of interest.”
Ashe scratches the back of his neck, somewhat abashed. “Sorry, sir, you were saying?”
Lt. Atkins shrugs. “It was of no consequence. In your silence I have learned more about you than a simple question could have discerned. Sylvan, hold onto that little cottage of yours if it will help you survive the war, but hold no illusions that when you return it will remain as you had left it. Three years is a long time, and things, people, change rapidly in times of war. Do not forget where you come from, but do not let that memory strangle you.”
Ashe stares solemnly at the lieutenant. “Wise words, sir, but save them for the weak. My memories are bittersweet and lack the substance to perform such a task as you have described. The only strangling will be done by my hands to those black Sentran hordes who dare to terrorize our borders.”
Lt. Atkins nods. “Well spoken, but soon we shall see if you have the mettle to match your claim.” He leans forward. “Now, tell me more about these creatures you encountered.”
“Sir, I mean no disrespect, but you have heard my story and only a fool will repeat words that the listener will only choose to ignore. If I may ask, sir, how is it that six thousand men have been rallied for this cause? I was unaware that Smithee had even half this population.”
Lt. Atkins shakes his head. “Your words lie, for they in themselves are disrespectful, but I will disregard them and will answer your question.” Leaning back in his chair, he continues, “What most people see of Smithee are farmers who work the land, but the heart of Smithee lies within the land itself. High in the mountains, deep within caves, and low in the tunnels that demarcate the land below where the wind blows, thrive the “Peoples of the Earth,” and from whence do we obtain the men of whom you speak. And in the earth do many men still wait, wait for the summons for which they were born to answer.”
Ashe laughs. “That was lovely, sir. Real poetic. And strangely reminiscent of a legend I once read; but if what you say is true, then the time of judgment is upon us and this war is the spark to the fire that will consume the world.”
Lt. Atkins sighs as he places his chin on his hand. “A crazy notion, isn’t it? But one thing does concern me: why are you here?”
Ashe clears his throat. “There was a letter. I was summoned. I am to protect the people of the Nesthra Islands, guarding them from persecution and repression.”
He taps his finger upon his lips. “But why?”
Ashe opens his mouth but his throat is dry. He finally answers in a hoarse whisper, “The circumstances…,” his voice trails off as he finds himself unable to finish.
Lt. Atkins leans forward, vehemently pressing his point, “Ashe, I know who you are. Do you?”
He stands angrily. “Just because my last name is Sylvan….”
Lt. Atkins stands as well, interrupting him, “That is only a name. True I recognized it, but I should have recognized you for who you are immediately. Cara had been trying to tell me, but I was too … suspicious … to notice.” He clears his throat and walks around the table to stand before Ashe. “You are a Chosen One.”
Ashe takes a step backward. “No. I am a guide to the Chosen One. That is my task. I should never have come here. I have strayed from my duty.”
“You have signed the contract. Your duty is here.” He sits upon the edge of the table. “Desertion in times of war is paramount to treason.”
Taking an offensive stance now, Ashe glares at the lieutenant. “Is that a threat … from a traitor?”
Lt. Atkins stares back at him, but his look is of pity. “It is a warning, from a friend. I mean you no harm. As you, I too am a guide, and like your own duty, mine also rests on more than one man. Those who are Chosen are chosen for a reason and they each have their own task to perform. Circumstance may have brought you here, but to this end is where your destiny lies.”
“And what if I shun this destiny you speak of?”
Lt. Atkins smiles sympathetically. “Then again I ask you—why are you here?”
* * *
Cara shivers as a shrill wind races through the desolate camp. The wolf pants heavily at her side, its breath curling in the unusual cold of late spring. She has always hated springtime for its indecision. Warm one day, cold the next, or warm but windy, or rainy. Frustrated, she crosses her arms and squeezes her eyes shut. The wolf nudges its nose against her leg, as if reminding her of its presence. Shaking her head, she kneels down and scratches the wolf behind its ears, still contemplating on what she should do. It would seem that spring is not the only one that has trouble making a decision.
One of them would surely ask her questions, so her options were to tell the truth, lie, or expect them to respect her wishes of remaining silent on the subject. But they had saved her life, and for that she owes them an explanation. Whether to be candid or open is yet to be determined, her discretion or lack thereof depending on them.
Shadow leaves her side and she knows that one or both of them approaches. Slowly she stands and turns to face him who would be either her savior or her executioner. Somewhat embarrassed by the sudden surge of emotion at the sight of Cole, with his mysteriously dark features and penetrating gaze, she looks down at her hands folded before her. His approach was silent as ever, yet she could sense his presence and feel those gorgeously dark eyes of his staring at her, boring a tunnel to the very core of her being. Gathering her courage she lifts her head to look at him, and upon seeing the concern drawn across his face, she realizes that no matter how hard she may try, she will never be able to lie to this man. They have only just met, but such a condition seems trivial to her now. A knot forms in her stomach, and she knows that this is guilt; guilt for even considering keeping her secrets from him.
Pr
eparing herself for his interrogation, she takes a deep breath and waits. And she continues to wait, wondering what is keeping him. All he does is stand there, not even seeming to contemplate how to begin. And then he does something of which she had never expected. He smiles. Not a coy or a sympathetic smile, but he smiles in such a way as to light up his face and make his eyes dance with some ethereal flame. All of her apprehension melts away and she finds herself laughing. Why, she could not say, but she was laughing all the same.
Putting his hands on his hips, Cole laughs with her. “That was great. It seems that your confidence and willfulness are not to be strangled by a sense of propriety. You remind me a lot of someone I know.”
Cara teases, “I have never met anyone like you before.” She pokes him in the chest. “So, who is this person that I remind you of?”
He shrugs. “A girl back from where I came from. Two, actually.” He laughs at the look of affront on Cara’s face, smiling in the realization of how she had taken his words. Shaking his head, he clarifies, “They are like sisters to me, and I love them both as sisters.”
Detecting the hesitation in his voice, Cara ventures, “Perhaps, you love one more than as a sister?”
Cole stares at the dreary gray fog rolling in from the bay. Squinting his eyes as if shielding them from a blazing red sun whose presence at the moment was best described as questionable, he takes a deep breath. “I thought I did, for a time. But it’s like the wind. You can feel its gentle kiss upon your neck, its fingers rustling your hair, hear the whispering of its words, taste the sweet fruit of its being, and smell its enticing fragrance all its own, but the moment you reach out your hand or try to embrace it, it drifts away as if it had never been there to begin with. That is the essence of my love for this woman—unrequited and unspoken, yet perhaps only existing because we always yearn for that which is beyond our grasp.”
Book One: Beginnings Page 17