Livian woke in the middle of the night, immediately coughing as smoke filled the air. Glowing orange light could be seen through the cracks of her door. Her hand had barely touched the handle when she leapt back with a yelp. Whatever was happening on the other side of the locked door, she was trapped in the room. Livian started banging on the door, hearing the other kids screaming, panicking when she realized the orphanage was on fire. Quickly, she dropped to the floor and crawled over to the window. She tried to unlock it, but it wouldn’t budge open. Using all her might to try breaking it with her fist, she cried in pain when her weak hands couldn’t break the glass.
“Help me! Somebody get me out of here!” she screamed, pounding on all the walls, door and window. Her lungs burned from the effort of yelling through the smoke. She forced herself to calm down and finally grabbed her plush to focus meditating on summoning her small spell. Within seconds, the window before her shattered, forcing her to shield her eyes from the flying glass. She grabbed a blanket from her bed to protect herself from broken glass on the window sill as she hastily climbed out, jumping onto the cold grass.
Livian stood and turned to see that several nearby buildings were also on fire. She no longer heard the screams of her fellow orphans, nor did she see them among the few guards and townspeople that were trying to douse the fire. In that instant, she made a split-second decision. Before anyone could spot her, she made sure she had her knife and her plush and took off toward the dark alleyway. She didn’t want to be transferred to another orphanage, though she didn’t think another one existed in the city.
She ran as fast as her legs would take her, as far as she could go. Finally, she could move no further. She paused, panting, and fell to her knees in a narrow alley. She knew she wasn’t in the nicest part of Res’Baveth and tried to remain quiet, using her plush puppy to stifle the lingering smoke-induced cough. She shifted off of her knees and leaned against a building, still trying to catch her breath.
The bell tower in the distance struck the third hour of the early morning. She had nothing. All of her basic necessities of shelter, food, clothing, even soap, had all been taken from her, just like the family she’d never known. She hadn’t even had time to put her shoes on. The two girls she barely considered temporary friends in the orphanage had surely been killed. The caretaker who was the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother had probably died in the fire, too, for all she knew. And the one person Livian considered a sister would be impossible to reach. Tears welled in her eyes at the thought that she had suddenly become homeless, vulnerable. She shivered from the cold spring air and sobbed into her plush puppy.
The humid chill of morning and the distant bell tower sounding the sixth hour startled her from a short, restless nap in the alley. Livian’s muscles ached from sleeping on the hard ground, and dirt and ash covered most of her clothes and skin. The rising sun was peeking through the towering buildings of downtown Res’Baveth, slowly dissipating the spring morning chill.
An ache of despair hit her heart heavily when realization hit her again that she was homeless. The city didn’t have beggars and homeless people; a Resarian who didn’t work was unheard of. If someone was caught stealing food, begging, or living in the streets, they were sent to the fields to work for minimum wage, hired by noblemen as servants, or sent to the Dominion Armed Forces. She was too young to join the military, but would gladly earn pay and shelter working in the fields or as a maid for someone looking to hire her. Anything had to be better than the orphanage.
Livian walked out of the alleyway to find herself near the busy main circle of merchants and vendors setting up their shops for the daily market. Sweet and spicy aromas of baked goods filled the air, causing her stomach to rumble. She ignored the hunger and approached the produce stands first, asking the merchants if she could work for them. They saw how young and small she was and told her to go back home to her parents and ask for their permission. Other merchants simply ignored her, thinking she was probably just lost. When she finally told one of the other merchants that she didn’t have parents, he instructed her to return to the orphanage.
“It’s been burned down,” she said.
“By the spirits, girl, where are the other children?” the man asked.
She shrugged. “I’m the only survivor. I need a job. I need a place to stay.”
He glared at her small figure. “I’ve got no extra jobs or money to give to a child. Go to the Citadel, they hire children to clean the sanctuary.”
“How do I get there?”
“Take the North road for about six miles, you can’t miss it.” He walked away from her to tend to an actual customer.
Livian had no shoes to casually walk the six miles and no frakshins to hire a carriage. She hadn’t eaten since the night before and the bell tower had tolled eight times in sets of two, notifying the people of the sixteenth hour of the day. She was more thirsty than hungry, and she felt out of place among the clean, well-dressed Resarians. She, on the other hand, smelled like the horses that pulled their carriages. After the horses had survived a barn fire.
For a while, she rested beneath the shade of a tree before being able to summon the energy needed for the trek to the Citadel, despite her blistered feet, aching stomach and weakened muscles.
“Kid! Hey kid!”
She turned her head to see a city guard trying to get her attention. He quickly caught up to her. “Where are your parents?”
Livian held her puppy tight, fighting to hold back the tears she’d refused to shed all day. After a few seconds, she gave in, feeling the sting from her eyes as the tears fell. “I’m from the orphanage that burned down,” she began. “I just want to get to the Citadel but I’m in so much pain, I’m so hungry.” She planted her face in her plush, red with shame and exhaustion.
The guard knelt down beside her. “I heard about the fire. Thank the spirits someone survived.” He patted her on the back to console her. “You remind me of my own daughter when she’s begging me to get her something. Except your tears are actually genuine.” He tried to grin, but it didn’t cheer the girl. “What's your name?”
“Liv,” she mumbled in a sob.
“I'm Constable Oto,” he shook her hand. “Come now, let’s get you a proper meal and we’ll be on our way to the Citadel before you can say hopjacks.”
She gave the constable a teary smile, and he led her to a few of the stands, buying her a couple unfamiliar fruits and a pastry.
Maybe my luck is changing, she thought to herself as she ate the delicious food.
He brought her to a parlor just as it was closing. As the owner was the constable’s very own wife, she helped to clean Livian up, bandage her blistered feet and cut hands, and give her proper clothes, along with walking shoes. Livian was overly grateful for their care.
The Citadel was larger than any structure she had ever seen in her life. A courtyard sprawled in front of the main building, complete with a beautiful fountain. Its design was foreign to Livian’s young eyes. The Citadel was not only a sanctuary to honor the Spirits, but also a fortress for the Dominion Armed Forces. It served as barracks for initial recruits, quarters and schoolhouses for officer training, held dining halls, war rooms, armories and housed acolytes serving to uphold the faith of the Spirits. Although the Resarian palace was taller, the Citadel was wider, covering more land. It was the sole defensive fortress inside the mystic walls of Res’Baveth.
Livian felt very grateful to the constable and his wife who fed her, clothed her, and hired a carriage to take her to the Citadel. When the constable and Livian arrived, they walked through the courtyard, up a flight of marble stairs to the great hall. They were met by the head Acolyte working directly under Prelate Li’Li.
“Livian Reej,” the man addressed her. He had a young face but his eyes seemed full of kindness and wisdom. She was unusually speechless in front of the spiritual man in his impressive robes. “I am Acolyte Roz. I’m terribly sorry about what happened to your last place of res
idence and hope you will find our establishment as a suitable home. Allow me to show you to your room so that you can settle in before I give you a tour and a description of your duties.” The acolyte was dressed in red robes with simple black cording to trim the belt, hood and cuffs.
The constable stayed long enough to ensure Livian would be welcomed and taken care of before saying good-bye and disappearing the way they’d come.
As Acolyte Roz and Livian walked, he asked her some basic questions - her age, skills, the name of her stuffed puppy.
When she felt comfortable, Livian asked, “Do you always take random children off the streets into your care?”
“Children don’t live in the streets, “Acolyte Roz pointed out. “They live in the orphanage, which is already being rebuilt.” He noticed the despairing look on her face out of the corner of his eye. “But, seeing as how you’re a bit older than most children who typically stay in an orphanage, I agreed to the guard’s request of allowing you to work for me. You’re younger than most people I hire, because you should still be in school. Not to worry, though, we have a schoolhouse here for the children of those who work for Falajen’s Spirits or if both parents serve in the Dominion military.” Roz came to a stop in front of the door that led to her new room.
She opened the door and stepped inside. Roz lit the candles and lanterns of the small, cozy room to reveal paintings of ancient gardens of Sariadne blessed by the Spirit’s presence. The room held a single bed, a dresser and a desk with a simple wooden chair. The blankets, pillows, curtains and rugs were dark red and, even though the fortress was made of stone, the walls were lined in finished wood panels to give the effect of a cozy lifestyle. She glanced out the single window of her room, high above the city below. She didn’t remember climbing four flights of stairs to get to her room.
“It’s perfect, thank you,” she said to the acolyte, briefly remembering her manners.
Roz smiled kindly. “The robes in the dresser are your daily attire for school and work, but you will be paid frakshins by the Citadel to purchase your own clothes and goods. Down the hall on the right is the bathing room, women to the room on the left once you enter. I will return in one hour to take you to supper, then we will do a tour and discuss your duties and contract in the morning.” Roz stepped out of her room and closed the door.
In all her daydreams, Livian had never imagined leading a spiritual life, but then again, the Resarian’s faith wasn’t a strict one, let alone demanding. She had a strong mystic from her spirit, she might as well at least thank them for that by working for them.
“Why are there paintings and statues of dragons everywhere?” Livian asked Roz later as they walked to the smaller dining hall.
“Have the schools stopped teaching our ancient history entirely?” he answered with a question.
She shrugged, unsure of what he meant.
“Before the War of Eras, it was once believed that our spirits came from dragons, hence why only our people live for centuries and summon mystics. As millenias passed, the thought that dragons ever existed became a myth. These few statues and paintings survived the obliteration of ancient Resari from the Kiaran attack and have become merely ancient relics of a civilization before Res’Baveth,” Roz explained.
“Dragon spirits?” she asked with a hint of disbelief. “Kiarans used to be here, why don’t they live centuries and have mystics?”
Roz sighed, internally fuming at the current state of Resarian public education. “As punishment for hunting down every last dragon, then attacking their northern brethren, the Resarians, they were exiled to the continent of Micinity. As each generation of Kiarans were born, they were too far from the Sea of Renewal to be born with a dragon’s spirit. Perhaps as further punishment, or as a reminder of what they did, no one knows why, but their eyes have also been removed of their color - by being born with pupils the same color as their irises.”
“Serves them right,” Livian muttered, suddenly intrigued by ancient history. In the dim lantern light, she lightly touched a dragon statue, taller than her.
“Until someone finds a way to allow both races to co-exist once more, this War of Eras will never end. The massacre the Kiarans conveyed to our people three thousand years ago was wrong, yes, but that generation is long dead. I believe that someday, there will be peace, and they will live among us once again,” Roz explained.
“I hope to meet a Kiaran one day,” she confidently stated.
“Why is that?” he asked, leading them out of the sanctuary. “What would you say to him or her?”
She contemplated the questions, genuinely wondering if she would welcome one, or fear one. “I don’t know,” she finally answered.
Chapter VI
Sergeant Vilkinsen blew the reveille horn to wake the recruits just as the sun was about to peek over the horizon. “Rise and shine, everybody, it’s run time!” He sang as he walked about the camp.
Brisethi and Korteni dreaded run days. They moaned while dressing into their light weather uniform. The other two women in their tent were just as unhappy.
“We haven’t run in nearly five days, it was due,” snapped Sulica Nin finally.
“You’re tellin’ me,” replied Ibrienne as she patted her belly. She hated running as much as Brisethi and Korteni, but needed it more than the other girls. She struggled to keep as lean as everyone else even though she never ate any more than the other girls. Ibrienne sometimes envied the others’ fit bodies, but she tried to not let it show. “Come on, ladies, let’s go!” she said brightly.
The recruits formed up in four rows at the edge of camp. “You’re not hiding in the back, are you, Sen Asel? You’re running up front with me and the other two Corporals!” shouted Vilkinsen.
Brisethi muttered a curse under her breath as she sprinted to the front of the line where Sergeant Vilkinsen, Corporal Vorsen and Corporal Crommick were waiting. At least, she thought, Corporal Trenn had gone with Chief Renast. Two less people to get on my nerves.
“Yeh, go, Sen Asel! Keep the pace nice and slow,” chuckled Ibrienne.
“No, sprint as fast as you can,” Sulica shouted. The four women had shared the same tent for nearly a year, but Sulica was the only one hating her life with them. She took every advantage she could to make everyone else as miserable as she. Korteni was far too optimistic to let Sulica bother her. Ibrienne followed Korteni’s example, while Brisethi flat out ignored everything the mean-spirited woman spat.
“Whenever you’re ready, give the command,” Vilkinsen gestured to Sen Asel.
“Oh, right.” She was still waking up. Clearing her throat, Brisethi called out, “At a double time, forward, march!”
“Call the cadence,” Vilkinsen ordered as they began running at a steady pace.
She had only memorized the one cadence which fortunately required the recruits to call back as often as the cadence caller.
“From the ashes; he proved them wrong
As he summoned; stars from above
the clouds broke; igniting the skies
and the stars crashed; to Falajen
Sariadne! Home of Resaria -
Sariadne! Res’Baveth reborn
Sentiar; Asellunas
Creator of; the Dominion
With spirits from; creatures of lore
We will keep all: others away
Sariadne! Home of Resaria - Sariadne! Res’Baveth reborn
Sergeant Vilkinsen called the remaining cadences, picking up the pace of the recruits who had gone a bit soft since the night of the attack. He told Brisethi to return to the back of the formation to keep a steady pace for those who struggled to keep pace with the front runners.
The cadence Brisethi had called made her wish they were in their third year of the expedition when they would finally reach the southern volcanoes. It would also be when the acolytes were scheduled to join them and would help the recruits seek their spirits and learn how to summon their mystics.
The run continued on for a coupl
e of miles, from the edge of the forest where the camp was to the beach shore. Their feet pounded the sand in rhythm, voices calling out cadences in unison. The spray from the surf splashed the recruits’ faces, giving them renewed energy to push on.
“Come on, Ibrienne, you can do this.” Brisethi slowed her pace to match Ibrienne’s slowing run. “Stop looking down at the sand, look at the sun rising above the ocean, hiding behind the clouds, it’s so beautiful! Now take a deep breath, through your nose. Exhale through your mouth. That’s it, you’re doing outstanding. If you need to take your boots off, I’ll take mine off with you, it’ll feel much better running in this sand with bare feet, wouldn’t you think?”
Finally, Sergeant Vilkinsen led the recruits back to the camp. The hot sun had made them perspire. They arrived back at camp drenched and exhausted. The rest of the morning was spent washing at the shore and preparing for hunting and gathering.
Brisethi hiked about half a mile away from the camp that afternoon. She notched her arrow as quietly as possible, slowly drawing the string back. Slowing her breath she took aim at a majestic hooved beast. She was the only one in the division that still slept under her issued thin fabric blanket whereas the rest of the division had been taught to make theirs from fur and leather of bears, boar and deer brought down during hunts. One recruit even took down a mountain feline but refused to eat the meat since he hadn’t killed it in self-defense, a personal choice but one that some considered wasteful.
Soldiers in the Dominion were trained to hunt only what would be eaten or only kill in self-defense. Brisethi was capable of hunting birds, trapping rabbits, and fishing, but she had yet to kill her first large mammal. For months, she had been saving the down feathers from the amount of chickens she had eaten to make herself a down blanket. Unfortunately, her sack of feathers had been stolen, and she had to start over in saving up feathers.
Spirits of Falajen Page 5