FARHAYVEN: VENGEANCE

by S. K. Ng

  THE PLEDGE OF BROTHERS

  The sound of the slap silences everyone. A youth, of the age 18, falls onto the kitchen floor. He stands up and turns around to face the old man who slapped him. Rage begins to fill him. His cousins sit silently around the dinner table. They try their best not to get involved. His aunt continues to set up the dinner table. It is the Year 1178 of the Known Era.

  The old man looked at the youth in a stern manner. The youth stared back at him defiantly.

  “Uncle Stem, I’m going! With or without your blessing, I’m going to do this! It’s my duty as a citizen. Do you expect me to just to stand by and watch while those barbarians trespass onto our lands; kill our men, women and children; and steal our stocks and crops?” said the youth.

  “This isn’t our way, Thorn. And besides, the military will betray you. You mark my words! They’ll leave you. They’ll abandon you to die some day,” answered Stem Sayvion.

  “That’s not important to me. My training will see me through, even if the military decides to abandon me. You’ve taught me to fight well. Have you no confidence in me, uncle?” objected Thorn.

  The old man looked down to the floor and shook his head. Then he raised his gaze up at his nephew again.

  “You haven’t yet finished learning all that I’ve to teach you. What you know isn’t enough to stop you from getting killed. Besides, I didn’t teach you how to fight so that you can go and join the bloody Provincial Guards!” stressed Stem.

  “Uncle, those things have an oath attached to them that I can’t possibly fulfil. Besides, you’ve abandoned those things yourself! Please understand that I have my own vision and ideals. I’m going! Thank you for taking care of me all these years. I’ll find a way to repay you someday,” said Thorn.

  And with those angry words, Thorn Sayvion walked out of the kitchen door and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

  That night was cold and gloomy. It would be the first of many such nights for the young Thorn Sayvion. Out in the forest that bordered his uncle’s farm, he sat by a little campfire that he had built, its gentle flames brought a little warmth into a cold, empty heart. Thorn did not understand why his uncle objected so strongly to him joining the Provincial Guards. But that did not matter. He had to do his duty. Barbarians threatened his country and they must be dealt with. With this final thought, the cold and exhausted Thorn Sayvion fell asleep beside the tiny fire in the huge forest which was engulfed by the gloom of night.

  It was midmorning when Thorn Sayvion walked into town. He headed straight to the local garrison, stood in front of its huge gate and called out his intention. The doors opened and he entered. He was led to a tiny office where a middle-aged soldier, suvian by rank, attended to him.

  “Name?” asked the suvian.

  “Thorn Sayvion, from Forkcreek Village, just outside of town,” answered Thorn.

  “Thorn Sayvion, Forkcreek Village, outskirts of Wetrocks Town, North-western Falls Province,” said the suvian as he wrote down the details on what looked like a recruitment form.

  Thorn squeezed him own fists tightly, out of nervousness. The suvian paid no notice to the young man’s body language as he was busy filling out some details on the form.

  “The reason why you wish to serve in the military?” enquired the suvian.

  “I wish to fulfil my duty as a citizen and also to protect my fellow citizens from the raids that are happening now,” replied Thorn.

  “Yes, we need people like you. These Aridyte raids are really getting out of hand. Just two days ago, an Aridyte raiding party hit a fishing village down by the coast. All the villagers were killed. Our soldiers arrived too late. They tried tracking the raiding party and were ambushed as a result. Four good soldiers lost their lives that day. By the way, do you have any sickness or diseases?” said the suvian.

  “No,” replied Thorn.

  “What are your academic abilities?” asked the suvian.

  “I’ve finished Basic Education,” answered Thorn.

  “All right, if you could just wait by the bench outside the office, a cart will be arriving later to take you to our training centre, Camp Harvest,” instructed the suvian.

  Thorn casually rose from his seat and proceeded to wait by the bench outside.

  As time went on, other young men showed up as well. Thorn shared the bench with two of them while four more sat on the stone floor. It was dusk when two horse-drawn carts finally arrived at the garrison. Thorn and the others helped to unload the supplies from the carts and then climbed on board after they were done. A gentle flick of the reins and the horses started to trot forward. The two carts moved steadily out of the garrison. On his last night as a civilian, Thorn Sayvion sat cold, starving and silent on a horse-drawn cart travelling to a mysterious destination named Camp Harvest.

  The following morning saw Thorn Sayvion and about 100 new recruits standing at attention just as the sun rose above the horizon. They raised their right hands and took the military oath, an oath which they were to take every single morning for the next three months. It was an oath that would probably bind them until death. Then numerous servians walked amongst them, dropping a pile of uniforms and equipment in front of each man. Then they were ordered to take their issued items, proceed to their designated barracks, change into their newly issued uniforms and return to the parade ground. There was a low pitched sound of 100 pairs of feet scuffling about as they performed as they were ordered.

  Thorn was issued two pairs of uniform shirts and pants, a leather belt, a pair of leather boots, several canvas pouches, a bamboo water container, a blanket, a sword, a shield, a backpack and some cooking utensils. Thorn hurried to find his designated bunk, changed into his uniform and stowed the rest of the issued items into the backpack and slid it under his bunk. He then ran back to the parade ground.

  Their instructor, exevian in rank, shouted out a set of commands. The new recruits started a slow run in their formation of five columns. On and on they ran, out of the training camp and into the forest. They ran on the wide forest pathway, brushing leaves and branches aside. The pathway led up and down a small hill and circled back to the camp.

  Half way up this hill, Thorn’s vision began to blur and his world began to spin. His body swayed from side to side, but a steady hand grabbed hold of the back of his uniform shirt and steadied him somewhat. He had no idea whose hand it was that steadied him, but he was very grateful indeed. The run downhill was a lot easier and by then, he had slightly recovered and was able to steady himself.

  After three quarters of an hour, the recruits finally got back to the parade ground. Thorn felt relieved that his strenuous ordeal would be over soon. But that was not to be. Another shout of commands and they were all on the ground doing sit-ups, push-ups, rolling their bodies forwards and side-ways and all other kinds of physical exercises. Sand and dirt covered their entire bodies. Their brand new flame red uniform turned dark red with dirt and soil. After half an hour of this gruelling torture, they were dismissed for breakfast.

  The new recruits ran to the mess hall. There they each grabbed a plate and were given portions of a variety of food, including rice, bread, gravy and fruits. They sat themselves down on the available benches and long tables and ate their food with their bare hands. Dirt and soil fell from their hair into their food as they ate. But they did not mind. Dirt and soil contaminated their food from their dirty hands. But they did not mind. For they were all too tired. Too tired to even think, let alone be concerned with hygiene. Thorn minded the least, for he was the most tired and the hungriest of them all, since he had not eaten for almost a day and a half. He ate his food like a wild animal, wilder than the others.

  In a short time, Thorn’s portions were gone, but the void in his stomach called out for more. He looked around. His batch-mates were still eating away, and the sight of this made his hunger even worse. He closed his eyes and tried to tune his mind away from food. Then he felt a gentle tap on his shoulders. He opened his eyes and a la
rge portion of bread was in front of him, held out by a dirty, sandy and soiled hand. He traced the hand to its owner, a blond young man about Thorn’s age with a well-toned body who was sitting opposite him. Thorn took the bread graciously, nodded slightly to signal his gratitude and tore into the bread like a hungry lion feeding on its prey.

  “Thorn Sayvion, Forkcreek Village, Wetrocks Town, North-western Falls,” said Thorn as he held out his hand.

  “Salmon Verance, Eastgush Village, Timberstock Town, Eastern Falls,” was the blond youth’s reply as he grabbed Thorn’s hand and shook it vigorously.

  “Thanks for the bread,” said Thorn gratefully.

  “No problem. You looked really hungry,” said Salmon.

  “You can’t imagine,” was Thorn’s short reply and the both of them erupted in laughter, and so a friendship was born.

  An hour after breakfast saw the recruits assembled at the parade ground again. Then came the marching drills. Left, right, stomp and stomp went their feet, kicking up a small cloud of dust and sand. The searing heat of the sun burnt their faces and the saltiness of their sweat became an unwelcome taste in their mouths, and yet they stomped their feet and moved up and down and side to side, trying their best to be in unison. Their instructor shouted out commands every now and then, and the recruits changed directions. This went on for two hours, but as far as Thorn was concerned, it felt like two days. But he had finally eaten some food and his energy had been revitalised, so his vision did not blur and his world did not spin anymore; but some of the others apparently did as two of his batch-mates collapsed. Their semi-conscious bodies were dragged out of the formation by some of the assisting servians while the rest continued on marching. Finally the command to stop came, and every recruit still standing stood firmly at attention with hollowed expressions, all manner of thought gone from their minds. They now began to exist as mindless drones, devoid of character, emotions and independent will. Thus a soldier was born.

  Lunch was no better than breakfast. Thorn sat opposite Salmon again. Both young men, just like the rest of the young men in their batch, ate like wild animals. Perhaps it was the hot sun or perhaps it was the strenuous marching exercise, Thorn could not be certain, but he noticed that Salmon drank his cup of water empty even before he was a quarter way through his meal. Thorn, on the other hand, paced his intake of water accordingly. A sip to wet the throat, then sips between mouthfuls of food and then draining the cup dry when all the food had been consumed.

  Thorn and Salmon were half-way through their meal when suddenly Salmon chocked on some leafy vegetables and started coughing. His eyes bulged in panic. Instinctively he grabbed his cup and put it to his mouth. To his great horror, he realised it was empty. Then he saw a half-filled cup appear right in front of his eyes. Without hesitation he grabbed the cup and gulped down what precious lubricating liquid it contained. After a loud belch and with teary eyes, Salmon looked up to see Thorn smiling at him. And Thorn was relieved. The favour, one of it at least, had been repaid, for it was Thorn’s cup that Salmon had grabbed. And Thorn was quite sure that it was Salmon’s hand that steadied him during the morning run, so Thorn still owed him a favour.

  Then the recruits were back on the parade ground. More stomping ensued. This time around, the effect was made worse by the burning midday sun. Thorn felt like he was being cooked alive in an oven. The recruits were dismissed two hours later. Thorn’s back ached like as though he was an old man afflicted with rheumatism. The recruits were sent back to the barracks for some rest. Most of them just collapsed into their bunks and fell asleep within moments.

  An hour later, the recruits were back at the parade ground. This time, they were all given chores to do. Thorn and Salmon were told to wash the dishes. Thorn thought that it would be a fairly easy chore to do until he saw the five gigantic pots and about 200 plates and 200 cups that were waiting for them. They also had to clear out the trash, wipe the tables and mop the floor. So the two tough talking, tough walking, warrior-minded young men went through the dull routine of cleaning, cleaning and more cleaning.

  Initially, the two youths scrubbed away in silence. Then Thorn looked around to make sure that they were alone.

  “Why did you join up?” he asked.

  “I thought it’d be a great adventure. Why did you join up?” replied Salmon.

  “To stop the Aridytes from raiding our lands,” answered Thorn.

  “What a noble intention! Why didn’t you just join a militia or a vigilante group and deal with the Aridytes that way?” asked Salmon.

  “I didn’t want to break the law. If I did, how’d I be any different from them?” Thorn pointed out.

  Salmon shook his head and pointed a finger upwards.

  “Don’t forget, 900 years ago, we were exactly like them,” he said.

  “Yes, but that was 900 years ago. Meanwhile, we’ve evolved. We chose to become civilised with rules and laws based on truth, justice, compassion and welfare. They, the Aridytes, didn’t!” argued Thorn.

  “All right, so you want to kill cousin Ironclub or uncle Facesmasher because they didn’t choose to be civilised? Fine by me,” retorted Salmon.

  “Well, at least my reason is better than yours! Adventure, huh! We’re stuck here washing dishes!” snubbed Thorn.

  “Yes, we are. Well, I wish you the best of luck hunting Aridytes,” said Salmon figuratively.

  “I wish you the best of luck, hunting Aridytes together with me!” responded Thorn, and both of them laughed their hearts out.

  Dinner was no less of a routine than breakfast or lunch. A short march to the classroom marked the beginning of their night routine. Two hours of classroom lectures on military doctrine was acceptable as far as their ears and brains were concerned, but not the rest of their bodies. Their limbs had fallen asleep and their torsos were barely upright. Their eyelids felt like boulders and were shut so tight they could not be opened. Their minds were wide awake but their bodies were deep asleep. It was a strange sensation to them and none of them had ever thought that such a thing was possible. The occasional smack on the head by their instructors helped slightly, but only slightly. No smack on the head could ever defeat the weight of ‘boulder eyelids’.

  The shouts of command by their instructors got the whole batch in formation within seconds. They marched away from the classroom in the darkness of night to the parade ground. There their torture continued. Feet-stomping, sit-ups, push-ups, forward rolls, side rolls and all manner of physical exercises were endured.

  After an hour of physical torture, they were told to sit still on the ground. Whatever perspiration that the recruits had produced had evaporated, thus greatly reducing their body heat. And in the cold darkness of night, they were told to uncork their water containers and pour the contents onto their heads. Their bodies shivered in response to this method of torture, for that was what it really was, torture. Another round of commands was issued, and they all got back up on their feet and repeated the events of the first hour all over again. Left, right, left, right, left…

  As Thorn stomped his feet, his thoughts drifted back to his uncle, aunt and cousins whom he had left behind at Forkcreek Village. His parents had died when he was a young boy of the age eight, murdered by robbers. His uncle, Stem, had adopted him and raised him since then. It saddened Thorn that things between them were bitter when he left. And he was sure it had hurt his uncle even more than him. But principles were principles and what needed to be done had to be done. The Aridytes had to be stopped, Thorn reasoned, and that was why he was at Camp Harvest, shivering in the darkness of night, stomping his feet hard on the dusty ground, feeling cold, hungry, aching and downright miserable. ‘This torture is for a good cause,’ he reasoned to himself… ‘for a good cause.’

  The final shout of command was like a sweet melody to their ears. They scrambled back to their barracks and collapsed into their bunks in their dirty and dusty uniforms. Their eyes were shut even before their bodies touched their narrow beds. Their minds
became shut and they slept a dreamless sleep. A dark, silent and void-like sleep. So void-like was their sleep that three hours had passed and when dawn came, and the instructors came in yelling to wake them up, they felt like they had never went to sleep at all. They just could not remember falling asleep. Within moments, they were all out there again, in their dirty and dusty uniforms and stomping their feet away to greet a new sunrise.

  Whoosh! The metal tip of the arrow stabbed the centre of the red circle on a bright sunny morning. Thorn afforded a smile. A shouted curse nearby drew his attention to Salmon. A quick glance at Salmon’s target board and Thorn could see the reason why he was cursing. There was no arrow on the board. Thorn cleared his throat out loud to get Salmon’s attention. With the grace of a dancer he pulled the string of the bow back, keeping the arrow level with and in front of his eye and then after a short moment of careful aim, gently released the string and arrow while maintaining forward pressure on his bow hand. The arrow twirled itself gracefully across the air and embedded itself next to the first arrow that he had shot. He turned to look at Salmon again and gave him a very smug look. Salmon returned Thorn’s look with his own, the look of dispassion and non-concern.

  But Salmon got the cue that Thorn was sending him. Copying Thorn’s actions, he pulled the string of the bow as gracefully as he could, levelled the arrow at the front of his eye and released it as gracefully as he could. His arrow sped through the air and landed on the red middle ring of the board. Thorn gave him a ‘so, so’ look. Salmon replied by pointing a finger at Thorn and giving him an ‘I’ll get you, someday’ look.