Spirits of Falajen

by Ginger Salazar

  Brisethi nodded. “I know, and I gave him no regard,” she remorsefully replied. She walked throughout the other graves until she came upon Captain Lora Tallien’s. “And I adored her,” she continued. “I hope to be as confident and graceful as she was.”

  When the remainder of the recruits returned to camp after their evening bath and washing of uniforms in the ocean, Brisethi stayed behind. She sat on the shore, needing to listen to the peaceful splashing of waves crashing upon the rocky beach under the starry night, painted with Falajen’s two neighboring planets. The fire she created was destructive, but water was cool and soothing. It would be colder this time of year had she been in the northern part of Sariadne, in Res’Baveth, but because they were further south, it remained warm during the winter months.

  She hadn’t slept much since the attack. The images of her devastation couldn’t be put from her mind. In all of her training with her father, Brisethi had never been prepared for using mystics on people. She always imagined that war was fought equally with swords and retractable shields and figured that slow flintlock pistols and rifles were obsolete by now. She thought she would be trained better by now to kill a man before he killed you in a fair fight. But the recruits only trained in the minimum of defense techniques during the first year, learning cannons, archery, and slow, inaccurate rifles. They were taught how to defend against an ambush of an equal enemy, not the heavily armed, overwhelming numbers of big, experienced soldiers.

  Brisethi regretted her first failure: using mystics in a panicked state to take down the enemy. Although her first instinct had been to draw her sword, she knew she wouldn’t have reached the man before the bullet hit her superior. Her flames would easily reach him before her sword. It was horrible enough igniting the single man who had wanted to kill Sergeant Vilkinsen. His tormented scream echoed through her head each time she closed her eyes at night.

  And then she heard all of them, watched all of them suffer again and again. They were men with wives and children and parents. Now they were dead. Brisethi had never imagined that she could bear witness to such a horrific scene, let alone be the cause of it. She had become her own horrendous nightmare.

  Prelate Lii’Lii had warned her from the very first month in the Citadel to wait until year three to experiment with her mystics. She had warned her that hers was of the most destructive spirits she had seen in all seven-hundred years of her life. However, Brisethi had already been trained by her father and knew how to use them and stop them at will. But she failed to control them while panicked. Her arrogance had become her downfall.

  “Sen Asel,” Sergeant First Class Vilkinsen approached her, startling her from her nightmarish reverie. “Until Chief Renast returns, you, Crommick, Vorsen and I are in charge of the remaining fifty-two recruits. If the scouts don’t return by sunrise, we’re packing up and moving on with our expedition. They’ll find us eventually.”

  She realized he was telling her to return to camp immediately. She jumped down from the rocks she sat upon then nodded at him. “I understand.” She didn't mean to linger her glance to him, and finally understood what Sulica meant by the way they looked at one another. But it wasn't a shared notion of attraction, the way lovers long for one another. She admired him as she did her father, and Sergeant Vilkinsen adored her as a daughter. He was better at hiding his admiration of her after decades of professionalism training.

  Before she could walk off, he tapped her shoulder. She turned to face him, expecting another order. He met her gaze with unwavering eyes. “I wanted to tell you – it was a brave thing you did that night. You saved us all with your mystic when mine was depleted, when most of the recruits were still untrained to use their own mystic. You deserve to know what happened. All of it.

  “Captain Tallien was our shield summoner. The moment her shields were terminated, she didn’t have the energy to summon them again.” He paused, clearly remorseful of the losses. “The adversary realized she was the one with that power so she was quickly targeted. Master Chief used his remaining mystic of water manipulation to sink the vessel they had sailed on. As soon as I saw him overrun by a dozen men I had to fall back. I had to save everyone I could.”

  There’s no bravery in using mystics to send over a hundred men to their grave, Brisethi thought. Then she realized he was silently asking for her forgiveness for retreating. She nodded and they began walking back to the camp. “What is your mystic?” she asked.

  He remained silent a moment to contemplate his answer. “My mystics summon ice and snow anywhere for as far as I can see. But I can only use it once every few weeks. My spirit’s regeneration rate is incredibly slow. Sometimes, I fall unconscious for days if I use too strong of a spell. When the Kiarans ambushed us, I summoned a simple chilling fog to hinder them, not to kill or weaken for fear I would black out.”

  Brisethi didn’t know how to respond. It seemed almost cowardice that he had the potential to halt the entire company that attacked them, but held back just in case he wouldn’t recover in time to save himself. “Why would you tell me this? Why would you admit to me that you didn’t fully take up arms?” Her self-hatred spilled out at him. “Do you think I wanted to bestow annihilation on an entire squadron of Kiarans? Half of our division is gone because you were afraid of blacking out during a battle that you singlehandedly could have ceased before it even reached you!”

  “Somebody had to stay alive to look out for the rest of you!” He didn’t expect the volume of her voice to escalate so suddenly. Nor did he expect the lump in his throat to form. “This is the reason I lead training expeditions instead of experienced patrols. The Dominion doesn’t need training leaders with useless mystics, they need destructive leaders like you.”

  She vehemently shook her head. “No, it doesn’t! This war needs to end, this bloodshed needs to stop.”

  “What did you think you were going to do in the military? Did you think it was just all hiking and camping and sailing around the continent? The Dominion has endured for over three thousand years and will continue to endure until the Pahl’Kiar Empire has crumbled into dust.” Sergeant Vilkinsen gripped the hilt of his sword as if challenging her to say otherwise.

  Brisethi sighed. “I imagined that if I had killed anyone, it would be by this sword in self-defense.” She laid her own hand on her sword. “But, somehow, I knew we wouldn’t be able to outrun them, not all of them, not all of us. The fire of my spirit was invoked by a sort of rage. How dare they attack us? But I only meant to disable them somehow. I lost control.”

  Sergeant Vilkinsen, wanting to console her without giving the wrong impression, nudged her arm with a fist. “You’re only in your twenties. It will take you at least a hundred years to master every spell you can conjure. Just hold off on the mystics for now until we meet up with Acolyte Roz in year three down south. There is much you can learn from him.”

  Chapter IV

  After two weeks at camp and still no sign of the scouting party or Division Thirty-nine, Sergeant First Class gave the order to pack up and move out. The hike to their next camp took the entire day, covering less land than usual without the help of horses to pull the two wagons, which had been destroyed in the battle. Each recruit had to carry extra packs and take turns carrying the tents and ammunitions. Everyone was solemn, still mourning the soldiers they had lost. That night, after camp was set up, Sergeant Vilkinsen randomly paired up the recruits to train their combat skills. It was a welcome break from routine.

  Brisethi faced her partner, the half-Kiaran Corporal Vorsen. His aqua-colored eyes almost appeared to illuminate while his dark hair fell just below his ears. It was the same length as her own hair, same as the rest of the recruits. Everyone had recently developed mixed feelings about him since the night of the attack, including herself. She knew it wasn’t fair to judge him based off of who one of his parents was, especially since she was more or less being ostracized as well. But she was still too young to understand the complications of the War of Eras.

&nb
sp; Sergeant Vilkinsen shouted the command to ready their weapons, followed by a second command for everyone facing the east to commence one fighting style, while those facing the west defended using a skill they had been taught three months ago.

  Brisethi swung her sword the way she had been taught as a child. The instructors had trained in a similar manner. Vorsen wasn’t surprised at how ferociously she fought though he defended himself flawlessly, even through her changing techniques. He deflected every one of her swings, encouraging her to hit faster and harder. Brisethi’s last few combat partners were actually timid against her so she found a calm against someone who could take her hits.

  Vilkinsen soon halted the fighting and had the recruits switch stances, leaving Brisethi as the defender. Brisethi muttered to Vorsen, “Do not go easy on me just because I’m female. I need to learn to fight a real man. Not someone who’s afraid to hurt me.” She grew frustrated with every partner she had in the past who wouldn’t push her limits for fear they might injure her.

  Vorsen nodded and, when the command was given, he held nothing back, knowing she was capable of defending herself properly. Before beginning his onslaught, he analyzed what he knew of her. Vorsen knew that she was strong from the physical training she endured with him and the other Corporals when they were being held responsible for the rest of the recruits’ problems. He respected the woman for her ambitions but had concerns about her recklessness and arrogance. He believed that she was the type of leader who would risk as many lives as needed to accomplish the straight-forward goal rather than seek out an alternative. Although her mind was resilient for the Dominion, it was her heart that lacked the compassion of others.

  After several minutes of combat, Brisethi grew weary of the constant strikes Vorsen had been swinging at her. Already tired from being the first one to attack, she wasn’t used to someone actually challenging her. They hadn’t eaten since that morning, and she could feel her hunger taking its toll. Her breathing was heavy and her blocking became sloppy.

  “If you need me to lighten up-“

  “No,” she panted. “The enemy wouldn’t ‘lighten up’ just because I’m tired.”

  He gave a mighty swing of his sword, making Brisethi throw up her retractable shield. She blocked the attack but was knocked to the ground. Her weary arms threw the shield to the side. Keeping her sword in one hand, she quickly rolled to the side when Vorsen’s sword came crashing down in another attack. She used both of her legs to trip him and, as he fell to the ground, he barely deflected her sword in time. She became the attacker once more. When Brisethi pulled her sword back for a second thrust, he kicked her in the stomach, forcing her to double over and fall back down.

  No one had ever kicked her before. She threw her sword down, holding her stomach as she caught her breath. When she noticed that Vorsen had a slight look of concern, she leapt forward, throwing punches toward his face. He blocked the first few, but her small knuckles did little damage to his face. Vorsen tripped her once more and finally held her down by her throat with one arm. She always had trouble getting out of a chokehold. It was the one move her father had never been able to get her to master. But because of the arduous training she had received recently, she finally had the muscle strength and leverage needed to grab Vorsen’s arm to push his entire weight off of her.

  Sergeant Vilkinsen halted the skirmish, realizing half of the recruits had stopped training to watch Sen Asel and Vorsen fight. Brisethi lay on her back, gasping for breath.

  “Sergeant,” she struggled to speak as she slowly rolled onto her knees. “I want him as my training partner for the rest of the expedition,” she coughed.

  Vorsen wasn’t the least bit thrilled when the sergeant agreed to her request. He didn’t want to fight only a woman for the next three years; he needed to fight men stronger than him which from his experience thus far, was only Antuni Crommik. “Do I not get say in this?” he asked Sergeant Vilkinsen.

  “If she’s too powerful, I can find a smaller girl for you,” Sergeant Vilkinsen laughed. Though, he understood Vorsen’s need to strengthen, and he would allow him to partner with Crommick every few fights, simultaneously letting Sen Asel train the other girls.

  The recruits put away their gear and worked on cooking the meal. The mood of the division lightened up while they had chatted about the way Sen Asel and Vorsen fought hand–to–hand. Neither Vorsen nor Sen Asel spoke to one another for the remainder of the night.

  “How are you not dying from taking his foot to your abdomen?” Korteni exclaimed. “Even he hesitated for a moment to make sure you didn’t lose a rib,” she added, pouring a ladle of stew into her bowl.

  “Our armor’s thicker than it looks. Very shock absorbing,” Brisethi said with a grin that turned into a grimace before she leaned over from the pain in her abdomen. It would take a few days to stop feeling tender.

  Brisethi, Ibrienne, and Korteni walked away from the food line and sat down near the fire. Brisethi moved very carefully, trying to keep her soreness from showing on her face.

  “Did you see the look on his face when Sergeant Vilkinsen agreed to let him be your partner until we’re out of here?” Ibrienne laughed as she soaked her flatbread in the broth of her stew.

  “I did not, I was too busy puking the nothingness in my guts out,” Brisethi replied, taking a massive bite of the steak bits in her stew.

  “I don’t think he likes you,” Ibrienne replied with slight concern.

  “Good. I don’t need a partner that’s going to flirt with me like the others did. I want to go against someone who actually wants to kill me,” she grinned.

  “Something’s wrong with you,” Korteni jested. “Sometimes I wonder if you even like anyone beyond friendship - male or female.”

  “It’s not something I want to talk about,” Brisethi interrupted. “I just have goals in life that don’t involve a significant other holding me back or asking for my time. I don’t have a sibling so I’m used to doing a lot of things by myself. It doesn’t bother me to be alone so often.” Brisethi yawned then stood to signify the end of the conversation. She queued up in line to wash her bowl and spoon.

  “You’re so peculiar, Brisethi,” Ibrienne teased as she and Korteni followed the example. The women finished cleaning their cookware and went back to their tent.

  Tired as she was, Brisethi lay awake for some time, replaying the fight in her head. She needed to get better, and Vorsen was going to help her.

  Chapter V

  Livian Reej sat upon the creaky, small bed, re-attaching the arm of her plush puppy. Although she was the oldest child in the orphanage at age thirteen, the other kids near her age were prone to forming alliances against her. They didn’t like it when she had to pretend to be their mother and tell them what to do each day, not realizing the reason she was so harsh with them was so that they could all be rewarded with better food from their caretaker. She was tired of being one of only three children to participate in the daily chores and constantly had to scold the boys for not helping. That day, the boys had stolen her favorite plush toy and ripped it into pieces to try warning her to never yell at them again.

  Like the other thirteen children, Livian didn’t have much, so when the one thing she loved had been torn away from her, she no longer held her mystic back from the boys who hated her. For punishment, she was locked in her own room, as was customary when the rules were broken. She protested at first, saying none of the boys were even hurt from her shockwave, that they were just faking their achy muscles. But after their caregiver inspected them and discovered bruises forming, she had no choice but to lock Livian away after dinner.

  She wiped the last tear from her eye and smiled at her dilapidated plush, holding it close to her chest. For eleven years she had lived at the only orphanage of downtown Res’Baveth and knew no other home. For as far back as she could remember she had watched nearly every other child in the orphanage get chosen to go home with Resarian parents. As she grew older, the less likely it was
that she would even receive a passing glance from a couple looking to take a child into their care.

  Livian ran her achy fingers through her tangled, blonde hair before lying down in the bed. She thought of her miserable life and how much longer she would have to remain in substandard conditions with barely enough food to fill her tummy twice a day. She stared at the ceiling, daydreaming of the times when the Dominion Military volunteered at the orphanage and took the children out in town to buy them food, clothes and toys every few months. Those were the happiest days of her life because it was usually a kind man who would treat her like a princess for a day. The last time, the sailor who had chosen her for the day was a female, however. Livian loved Chief Balia Suin because, instead of buying her a dress or fake jewelry, she bought her an actual knife and the plush puppy she had just sewn back together. The Chief made her promise to never tell anyone she had bought her the small, elaborate knife until after she left the orphanage.

  “I’m buying this for you,” Chief Suin had explained, “because I also grew up an orphan for most of my childhood.” She told Livian that their orphanage had been robbed a year before she was able to move out and live on her own. But before the thieves left, unspeakable actions had been done to her by the two robbers and she hoped no girl would ever have to suffer as she did. Livian kept the knife on her always, whether in her boot or in a hidden pocket of her shirts, always careful to not let the other children or the caretaker see it.

  It had been over a year since she last saw Chief Balia Suin or any of the soldiers or sailors. She wondered if the War of Eras had ramped up and that’s why the Dominion couldn’t afford the time or money to spend on the children anymore. As much as she thought about Chief Suin and admired her for the strong woman she was, she never relished the thought of ship life. She did, however, linger on the thought of becoming a Dominion soldier if ever she left the orphanage. With her luck, Livian was sure she would be doomed to become the new caretaker when she was old enough. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming of glory.