Spirits of Falajen

by Ginger Salazar

  Evening came quickly that day, given the time of year and mountainous location. Temperatures dropped just as fast with the light when each group of recruits huddled around dozens of heated lanterns. Everyone wore their fur coats, cloaks and blankets to cover their entire bodies from head to toe in the permanent building that had been built centuries ago.

  “Damn, I thought for sure we were going to sleep outside,” Brisethi mumbled.

  “Are you crazy?” Ibrienne asked, shivering under her blanket. She had been kept busy during the preparation of the evening meal, checking everyone for the blue-gray signs of frostbite and reversing it on those who were affected.

  Brisethi shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve been asked that.” She left the group suddenly and walked outside, not forgetting to warm herself with her mystic. Fresh snow crunched beneath her thick boots. She kept her eyes on the orange glow of Mt. Bavala’s peak in the distance, almost hypnotized by it.

  “Don’t forget to look up.” Sergeant Vilkinsen’s voice startled her.

  Brisethi hadn’t seen him sitting on a pile of logs outside the lodge’s entrance. She followed his instructions and looked up into the sky. Neither of the two moons or neighboring planets were showing in their sky that night as she gazed into the blue and green strands of luminescent anomalies. “The Sea of Renewal,” she smiled. “I haven’t seen it in years.” The two remained silent, taking in the glorious sight.

  The recruits left the next morning. Ibrienne stared in awe at the towering clouds rolling over the western mountains. She was fascinated that the pink and orange clouds reflecting the sunrise behind her looked like a giant tidal wave frozen in place. The strands of clouds reaching down to Falajen’s earth was thick, heavy snow.

  At first the sun had warmed the recruits as they began their march, even melting some of the snow. A few hours later, however, frigid wind froze the water, which made hiking the single file trail more treacherous than it already was. The trail wasn’t alongside a mountain like the day before, but rather on the actual peak that connected two mountains. It was a sheer drop off of thousands of feet below on either side of them. Not even those who had been gifted with the sharpest vision could see the base of the mountains due to the clouds below them. When the flurries of snow began, they never touched the recruits once Sergeant Vilkinsen used his mystics to keep the snow from hindering them.

  Vorsen and Sen Asel were the last to reach the wider paths of the final peak. The division had arrived at their destination while there was still light.

  Snow clouds surrounded the division, setting a gloomy mood on those recruits who thought they had hiked all this way to see something other than snow. Sergeant First Class Vilkinsen smirked and parted his hands towards the west as if he were parting shrubbery. The clouds followed the bidding of his mystic, clearing the majestic view of Mt. Bavala with Res’Baveth just in view behind.

  “I need to paint this.” Brisethi shuffled through her pack for her log book and fountain pen.

  “I hope we’re not staying up here, I’m freezing.” Sulica gritted her teeth against the cold.

  A sudden explosion startled the recruits as Mt. Bavala erupted. They immediately crouched down with their backs to the volcano to embrace the rapidly approaching shockwave. Vilkinsen began casting a mystic of heavy snow to absorb some of the impact. Brisethi had remained standing, rooted to the spot in awe. She couldn’t think of anything to cast that could help alleviate the force and, instead, was brought down by Vorsen who summoned his own mystic to shield the entire division from the debris and impact of the explosion. Vilkinsen dove under the mystic shield with no time to spare.

  It suddenly felt eerily silent and as though time had stopped when Brisethi looked up at Vorsen. He was crouching over her, holding a single arm up with a crystalline mystic shield absorbing everything that touched it. Somebody else had to be slowing time for him.

  “Are you doing this?” she whispered up to him.

  Within seconds, everything went calm. Vorsen’s shield lowered, and the recruits stood to observe the lava flowing out of Mt. Bavala in a molten stream into the sea. Vorsen wearily stood then helped Brisethi to her feet, apologizing for nearly crushing her.

  “Huh,” Sergeant Vilkinsen casually said. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” He commended Vorsen for his bravery, silently thankful that spirits of support mystics were impulsively learned. He ordered his recruits to double-time down the dangerous hike to outrun the darkened skies from the ash of the volcano. They were fortunate that a subtle high-altitude breeze had kept the fatal clouds behind them.

  Ice and narrow paths atop sheer cliffs made for a terrifying escape. Etyne and Brisethi were once again left to the rear to ensure no one was left behind. There wasn’t a recruit who hadn’t lost their footing but fortunately, no life had been lost to a fall.

  “What the fuck was that, Vorsen?” Brisethi asked him when nearing the end of the narrow path.

  “What the fuck was what?” he innocently asked. Gusts of chilling wind distorted the soundwaves of their voices.

  “You tackled me up there, then summoned that shield faster than the shockwave-that’s impossible! Are you a...time-shifter?”

  “We both know that time-shifters are a myth-”

  Brisethi glanced back to see Etyne miss a step and lose his balance. She quickly turned and fell forward to grab his hand before he could grasp at ice that would surely send him to his death. The grip he had on her forearm was starting to send her into a panic, trying to keep herself from being pulled off the ledge with him.

  He didn’t mean to keep a death grip on her arm, but he wasn’t going to let her go until he could safely pull himself up onto the ledge. He was suddenly thankful that her body structure was dense and heavy from her muscles, able to anchor herself to save his life.

  “Shit, you’re heavy,” she grunted, trying to pull him up enough to allow his leg to reach the edge.

  He was finally fully on the ledge, breathing heavily and shaking. Embarrassed at his clumsiness, he couldn’t look at Sen Asel. It was a part of Vorsen she had never seen before. The tough, strong and conceited half-Kiaran was frightened, unable to let go of his tight grasp of her hands.

  Brisethi remained lying on her stomach just as he was - if only to make him feel less intimidated. She was just as frightened that he would have inadvertently taken her with him if she hadn’t found a stable position. But selfishly, she was terrified of almost losing someone that was helping her become a warrior.

  “Hey, Vorsen. You alright, man?” Seeing him in such a frightened state had her worried for him. She tried to pry one of her hands from his grasp. Once freed, she laid it on his shoulder. “I got you.” She wanted only to calm him.

  When his racing heart had finally settled, Etyne summoned the courage to meet her eyes, still holding her gloved hand. “Sen Asel...I’m glad our strength-training sessions haven’t been a complete waste - you never would have caught me, otherwise,” he smirked.

  She pushed at his hands and hastily rose to her feet. “You’re a fuck, Vorsen.”

  He chuckled, albeit nervously if only to hide his genuine sincerity to her.

  Chapter X

  The division spent more than a week in the highest parts of the mountain pass, honing their survival skills. Combat practice continued, but the sessions were much shorter in the harsh weather. By the time Sergeant Vilkinsen had directed the recruits back down the mountain, many felt as though the chill in their bones would never leave.

  Everyone was grateful for the slightly warmer weather upon returning to the garrison. Compared to the peak, it nearly felt like autumn again. Once again, they were within a day’s march of Res’Baveth. Fourteen of their number took advantage of the proximity to leave the training and return home, citing the harsh weather, intense training, and the trauma of the one battle they’d been in. They bid their fellow soldiers good fortune and left for home under escort of several seasoned soldiers.

  The three Sergeants w
ere instructed to patrol the garrison, helping recruits patch holes in their gear and ensuring the division’s log buildings had survived during their absence. Brisethi had just finished helping Ibrienne tend to one Corporal’s twisted ankle when she noticed Sergeant First Class Vilkinsen heading towards the gate. He caught her eye and motioned for her to follow.

  Vilkinsen approached the guards with Brisethi on his heels. The sergeant on duty nodded to them. His whole body was covered in armor and a coat, and he kept one hand on his sword. He removed his helm to speak with Vilkinsen. “How was it?” he asked.

  “No deaths, no frostbite, not even a serious injury this time,” Vilkinsen replied.

  Brisethi’s eyes widened. Despite her father’s drunken stories, and even after her own close encounters, she hadn’t really considered it a real possibility that harm could come to the recruits in ordinary training conditions.

  The other sergeant nodded, smiling slightly at Brisethi’s reaction. “That’s good,” was his only reply.

  “Sure helps having a healer around, eh, Roderick? Speaking of,” Vilkinsen continued nonchalantly, “any word on what happened to our scouts? Or Division Thirty-Nine?”

  Roderick’s expression darkened, and he glanced at Brisethi, clearly unsure on whether she should be present for the conversation. He looked back at Vilkinsen for confirmation before giving his report. The base commander had informed all personnel about Vilkinsen’s letters detailing the attack and the missing recruits. “There hasn’t been any word that’s traveled this far about them,” Roderick said. “Though I did hear that the next recruit expedition was stalled.”

  Vilkinsen thanked Roderick for the news and led Brisethi back to their compound. “Sergeant,” Brisethi began. “What does it all mean?”

  He sighed heavily. “It means something very bad indeed happened.”

  The descent through the mountains and to the south took the expected three months to complete. Compared to the previous two years, it was considerably less eventful. Division Forty-One arrived on time to begin year three - desert training.

  The recruits gladly put their winter clothes into their packs upon leaving the chilly mountains, returning to the summer uniform. They spent a few days in the forest before crossing the river that flowed out of the mountains and separated them from the desert. Row upon row of sand dunes spread across the land as far as the eye could see. Even Brisethi and the other few recruits who thrived on heat dreaded the coming months. When the command came to break camp, it was with great reluctance that the division complied.

  The soldiers marched for days, carrying more water than they thought they would ever need. The river they had camped at would be the last abundance of water they’d see for quite some time, and they were soon thankful for Sergeant Vilkinsen’s foresight.

  Marching through the heat of the desert had Brisethi wishing she was in the cold mountains again. Sweat poured down her face, neck and back as she thirsted for the precious water they carried. As they pushed on, she suddenly realized that the four-year expedition wasn’t just physical training, but mental training as well. She had gone two years without the comforts of family, a cozy bed, the touch of another person holding her, hugging her, kissing her. The strict rules of Dominion training were meant to physically and mentally break a Resarian down until even their spirit was broken. The division became the only family needed. They were meant to endure the longest, harshest training in order to be ready to overcome obstacles of the enemy in the future. The recruits had to allow the Dominion to dismantle and rebuild them so that the enemy couldn’t.

  Still, Brisethi thought, her throat parched, a little water would be nice.

  The desert of Sariadne was no different from any other desert in the world of Falajen – dry and intensely hot. The recruits had long since exchanged their thick leather uniforms to don their light, airy, woven uniforms which had hoods to protect their skin from burning. Instead of wearing black leather with red trim, used for attracting as much sunlight as possible in colder conditions, they now wore red fabric with black corded trim.

  As the sun was setting on their fifth day, the division finally reached the desert garrison, which would be their base of operations for the next several months. Brisethi walked around the barren recruit camp that evening. Only thirty-nine were left. Thirty-seven recruits plus the Captain and Master Chief had been lost to the still unknown enemy. The ten scouts were still missing, and fourteen recruits were sent home in addition to the one who had left the first month.

  The division started with sixteen women; now there were only four - herself, Korteni, Ibrienne, and Sulica. She was a bit surprised that Sulica Nin and Ibrienne Sestas had remained through the second year. Sulica had serious issues with authority while Ibrienne physically struggled at times to keep up. But Brisethi learned that no matter your personal struggles, if serving the Dominion was priority in your heart, the challenges were worth the feeling of pride in the end. She knew Korteni had a strong soul, intelligent and willing to help anyone with anything. She admired her friend for always being by her side and sometimes being the one to challenge her to push through mental and physical difficulties of the training. Korteni had even made peace with Sulica again following the incident on the mountain peak.

  The garrison of large canvas tents had strategically been set up far enough away from the river on the northern edge of the desert that the recruits would spend all morning running to it before the peak of day. The division whooped with excitement when they laid eyes on the water the first time.

  On sight, Korteni recognized it as the same river they had left the bank of a week before.

  “That’s impossible,” Sulica said when Korteni mentioned it. “Do you know how far we’ve come?”

  Korteni considered arguing but decided against it. “It’s just not worth it,” she muttered to herself, forcing Ibrienne to stifle a giggle.

  When the formation reached the river, sheer discipline prevented them from jumping right in. Sergeant Vilkinsen held the formation in place, facing the inviting water. “Some of you may have already realized it,” he said, prolonging the torture, “but this is still the Devali River, the very one you enjoyed a short time ago.” Korteni couldn’t resist smirking at Sulica.

  Finally, Sergeant Vilkinsen released them. They spent several hours into the late afternoon washing uniforms, trapping fish, bathing, and replenishing water flasks. From then on, every other day, the division set out in formation to double-time march to the river. Sergeant Vilkinsen allowed the recruits to return to camp in groups of four or more, advising them to be well on the way back by the time the sun began to set.

  The division was supposed to receive haircuts every six months or when at a village with a hair specialist. However, complications with the small division had often stood in the way of it, particularly the lack of someone to do the job and make it look halfway decent. Korteni decided to take up cutting the men’s hair, while the four women decided, with Sergeant Vilkinsen’s permission, to let theirs grow out until it reached their shoulders. Figuring there would be plenty of time for enforcing hair regulations, Sergeant Vilkinsen decided to bend the rules for the remainder of the expedition, or at least until they reached the fleet.

  The division was paid a small amount at each Dominion base they visited every four months. They wouldn’t receive the remainder of their coin and frakshins until their final return to Res’Baveth. It was impractical to carry so much with them during their expedition. Brisethi spent nearly a third of her last pay at the last village they had stopped in for luxurious soaps, hair oils and the one book she wanted from her favorite author. Most of the recruits who read books had bought educational books on history, politics or war. But she purchased a fictional adventure book about wizards and dragons, which she enjoyed reading on the riverbank when all of her other tasks were taken care of.

  Sulica sat on the ground next to Brisethi and began brushing her hair. “How can you read such childish literature?” she cr
iticized.

  Brisethi didn’t even bother to look up from her page. “When a dragon swoops down and grabs you with its claws, don’t forget to thank me when I take it down with my arrow to its most vulnerable spot.” Her response earned a giggle from Ibrienne.

  Although the dragons of ancient Sariadne had been hunted to extinction eons ago, she wanted to believe they still existed somewhere in the world of Falajen.

  On one of their excursions to the river, Antuni Crommik took an interest in learning how to fly fish from Brisethi. Since Etyne Vorsen’s only friend was Antuni, he relished the opportunity to learn a useful skill since their own fish traps were empty. Sulica remained close, looking bored, to stay near Antuni while Ibrienne vainly stood by, hoping to get to know Etyne, despite the many times he had shrugged off the advances of any female.

  “Ibrienne, he has a lover back home, let him be,” Korteni had once told her after Ibrienne’s umpteenth complaint of his ignorance.

  “As if she’s going to still be waiting after four years,” she had retorted. She wanted to be remembered by Etyne when he came to that realization.

  Brisethi handed out her tiny, crafted fish hooks then taught Etyne and Antuni to make fake flies out of thread and pieces of feathers. At this, even Sulica seemed to lose her haughty air, so Brisethi included her in the lesson. Brisethi had replenished her fishing lines at their last village stop and shared it with the two men as well. Sulica declined, more interested in making the flies than using them.

  Brisethi made her way to the shoreline, the men following her. She warned them to keep to the side of her before she cast the line and tiny fly replica into the river then quickly yanked it back out, mimicking the flight of an insect. When she sent it out a fourth time, a decent sized fish grabbed the bait as she set the hook and reeled it in.

  Before the sun could set on the western horizon she acquired over a dozen fish while Etyne and Antuni managed half a dozen between them. They were thankful of her patience and time to teach them. The group of six recruits headed back toward camp for the evening, laughing and joking along the way. Even Sulica was tolerable that afternoon, almost friendly.