The night came early to the mountains and with it a biting chill. Callan Alexis Pelegrin, the third prince of the kingdom of Faldor and the newly minted captain of the 17th cavalry division of Newil Johastia’s military arm, shivered and drew his foric fur lined grey coat closer to his lean muscular frame. His face was young and unblemished and his blonde hair sharply-cut in the style popular with younger soldiers. In front of him was his second-in-command Eachen Malwruth, a stark contrast to his young captain with shoulder length grey hair and battle hardened visage. They sat around a makeshift fire pit. The flickering flames danced shadows on the old soldier’s face, highlighting the battle scars he had received fighting in the last reformation war thirty cycles ago. But his bright sapphire eyes were identical to Callan’s own, a trait that frequently crossed the rigid social lines between royalty, nobility and peasantry in Faldor. The peasant-born man had grown to be Callan’s closest confidant since the young soldier’s induction into the holy army two years ago. Now he found himself in the enviable position of vice-captain of the 17th cavalry after Callan’s sudden advance through the military ranks.
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“So, the same story, eh?” The aged soldier took a sip of the Alpinion wine from a brass goblet. “He came, he preached and then left in the dead of the night. All within a day.”
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Callan shrugged, his own goblet lying untouched by his side. “I do not understand it. If his mission was to bring Joha’s word to these poor bastards, I would expect he’d stay a while. Previous missions established posts in some of these villages, sometimes for months.”
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“Nogar stubbornness would break even the patience of a mountain troll.” Eachen gave a wry smile. “Maybe our young priest, honorable Hazdel Tyreene, realised he bit off more than he could chew with these people. Decided it was not worth the effort after all. I mean the temple has tried for fifty years to bring these savages into its fold without any success.”
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“But, why stop by in every village and repeat the pattern?” Callan shook his head. “No. It almost seems as if he was searching for something.”
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“What would these savages have that would interest a power-mongering prick like Tyreene to go galivanting into the mountains?”
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Callan raised an eyebrow at Eachen and smiled. Not everyone was brave or foolhardy enough to directly insult a newil priest, even behind their backs. But Eachen was of the old stock and did not have the same fear of the newil temple’s might that Callan’s generation had grown up with.
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“I helped put those white-robed hadzis in the positions they enjoy today. I get to call them whatever names I fancy.” He often reminded Callan during his drunken stupor.
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Still, he only did it in front of Callan and for that he was grateful. There were plenty of young upstarts in their contingent who coveted the post of vice-captain and would jump at the chance to report his blasphemy.
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“Information.” Callan replied slowly, as a thought formed in his mind. “He was looking for information. Moving from village to village till he found the right person who could provide him with it. But why move only at night?”
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“Information about what?”
The jumble of clues, facts and hearsay that they had acquired in the past two months about Priest Hazdel’s movements and actions finally started to form a coherent picture. “None of the villages we passed through had a wind-whisperer, except for this one. And as far as we know, this was where he was last seen alive. The only inhabited town after this village is Silver Peak, but he never made it there.”
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“But what does all of this … ?” Eachen started but Callan held up his hand.
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“Bear with me.” He requested as his heartbeat quickened with anticipation. “Then, there is his habit of travelling only at night. Even a fool knows traversing mountain passes in the dark is risking Joha’s blessing once too much. And by all accounts, Hazdel Tyreene was not a foolhardy man. Cunning and calculative, yes, but not one to take unnecessary risks. So what was he doing hiking around the mountains in darkness?”
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Eachen’s eyes widened with comprehension. “By Joha’s grace, he was investigating the plague. Those Nogar that disappeared in the night, some of whom were found dead the next day. The wind-whisperer would know most about it.”
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“Not only Nogar, my friend.” Callan held Eachen’s gaze. “Many have gone missing crossing the Fermi pass in the last few years. Entire parties have simply disappeared from the face of Airaat. I think it finally caught the attention of the high counciliary.”
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“Certainly would seem like it.” Eachen gave a sarcastic huff. “Why else would they send a rising star of the newil holy council to investigate?”
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“That is something that troubles me. Hazdel was too eminent and well-connected to be sent to track down missing travelers or investigate the cause of madness among the Nogar. For that matter, why send a priest of the holy council when a local Meyrin inquisitor would have sufficed? And then accompanied by only two temple legionaries?” Callan frowned. “No. The high counciliary obviously thought the matter serious enough to send a newil preist, and wanted to make sure whatever he found out did not become public knowledge.” He recalled his own untimely promotion and vows of silence and secrecy he had given before embarking on the mission. “There is something more going on here.”
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“There is always something more whenever those closed-mouthed hadzis at the high counciliary are involved.” Eachen twisted his lips in displeasure. “So what do you plan to do now?”
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Callan got up and paced around his tent. “I think I’ll pay another visit to the wind-whisperer. I have a feeling she knows more about this than she is letting on.” He remembered the wind-whisperer's words, it is a disease of time and something else. Disease of time? Something else? Tomorrow he planned to get more concrete information from her, not this pagan mystic hogheap.
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“I suggest you take a larger escort than you did today.” Eachen suggested as he stood from his tree stump and downed the rest of the goblet in a single swing. “I heard there was a scuffle.”
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Callan flushed. He had no doubt Eachen had been informed in great detail about his unceremonious fall and encounter with the beggar woman and her son.
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“No. Taking a larger retinue will only serve to increase the tension with the villagers. I will be taking only six men as I did today. But you’ll replace Forgis.”
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Eachen raised his eyebrows. “He will not like that. He is the senior most member of your forward scout.”
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Callan scowled. “It doesn’t matter whether he likes it or not. I am his captain and he will learn to obey me. I am not willing to risk a repeat of the self-initiative he showed today. I need someone who knows restraint and can restrain others from acting rashly.”
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Eachen sighed. “I really think it would be to your benefit to make peace with the man. He has the respect and ear of half of the regiment.”
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“You don’t think I know that?” Callan grumbled. “That man is a bullworg, callous and petty, and his insubordination grows everyday.”
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“I heard what happened.” Eachen gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m just saying we will have to deal with him, and the sooner we do it the better.”
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Callan grunted in response and Eachen sighed again.
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“I’ll take my leave then captain.” Eachen gave him a quick bow. “Joha’s grace be with you.”
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“And you.”
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Callan nodded to his vice-captain and turned back to look at the map of the Noigiri range that was spread out on the makeshift desk they had created for him using tree stumps and wooden planks. He had scanned the map several times already and marked the path they took from Darfin following Hazdel’s trail. Now, he followed the Meyrin high road that ran near their camp, eventually crossing the Noigiri at Fermi Pass and then heading south east towards Silver Peak. If Hazdel had obtained the information he came for, he would have taken that road to Silver Peak. There were no other villages or rest stops on this side of the pass. Though, from his recent experience, Callan knew not all settlements were marked on the map.
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Maybe he was reading too much into this. Maybe, Hazdel had just wandered into one of the unmapped Nogar settlements and decided to stay. Or maybe he had managed to get lost. But somehow, Callan couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Hazdel’s trip to the Nogar than a simple greet and preach. As his index finger traced the way towards the Fermi Pass, he noticed a new trail. It branched out from the main road just south of the pass and headed off into a wall of mountains. It was barely visible, a pair of faint squiggly lines that Callan missed in his earlier inspections. It looked to him like an intriguing path that a young adventurous priest might take in search of a new flock. Callan sighed.
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Well if it turns out that I am mounting the wrong phasthu here, at least I will have some other leads to follow.
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“Uuh, captain.”
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Callan turned around. Entol, his burunai was nervously waiting for him just inside his tent. It was customary for every newil captain to take the most junior officer of the regiment under his wing as a trainee until the young man earned his own cloak. Callan was still not comfortable with the idea of mentoring someone so close to his own age but over the past three months he had come to regard the soldier as something of a younger brother. He just wished he could instill a little bit of self-confidence in the man.
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“What is it, Entol?”
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“I just came to see if you needed help preparing for bed, sir?”
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“Ah! Too tired to wait up for me soldier?” He raised his eyebrows, but followed it with a gentle smile.
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Entol blushed. “Aah, no sir! I just, I am on the perimeter watch out tonight.”
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With Entol’s slim stature, shaggy straw hair roughly cut in the peasant’s style and freckled pockmarked face that seemed permanently frozen in a nervous twitch, Callan sometimes forgot the man was only two cycles younger than him.
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He frowned. “Didn’t you have nightwatch duty last night too?”
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“Ye.. Yes, sir!” Entol’s face turned a shade redder and he looked down, rubbing his hands together.
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“Who did you exchange your duty with tonight, soldier?” Callan asked.
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“Uh! Forgis sir!”
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Callan clenched his teeth. Forgis again.
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Though frowned upon, it was not unusual for soldiers in the regiment to exchange duties. The senior members often took advantage of the captains and vice-captains looking the other way to heap the more unappealing tasks of their job on the younger ones. And Entol, being the youngest, seemed to always get the short end of the stick. As the captain, it was inappropriate for Callan to intervene but he couldn’t help but feel protective of Entol.
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“With your duties as burunai and my personal guard, you already have too many responsibilities to be exchanging your sleep time with others.” Callan growled. “I cannot have you exhausting yourself, Entol. We still have a long journey ahead of us and I need you. I will talk to Forgis.”
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“No! Please, captain!” Entol implored. “It’s alright! I can manage it.”
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Callan narrowed his eyes and stared at him for a moment. He was impressed to see that Entol managed to hold his gaze. Maybe the man was growing some backbone after all.
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“Fine!” Callan conceded gruffly. “But remember, if it starts affecting your regular duties, I will pull you off the night duty permanently.”
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It would not have been a good idea for him to confront Forgis anyway. He couldn’t be seen to be playing favorites. He turned his back on Entol.
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“Now help me get this damn armor off. I am ready to drop on my feet with exhaustion.”
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----
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Callan woke with the clangs of steel and the shouts of men. It was still night and he could see shadows of his soldiers running with bared swords, across his tent’s canvas. They were under attack. By who? The villagers? He threw off his covers and hurriedly dressed into his wool breeches and cotton shirt. He had just thrown on his short coat when Eachen strode into his tent.
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“Ah! Captain. You are awake?”
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“What is going on?” Callan grabbed his sword and turned to face Eachen. Eachen had the look of someone who’d been rudely roused from sleep as well. His long grey hair was tangled and his clothes were wrinkled as if they had been hastily thrown on. His expression was wary and he clutched his sword’s pommel tightly. Callan's heart skipped a beat. There was little that scared his vice-captain and it seemed like they’d finally found something in the mountains that did.
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“There has been an attack.” Eachen said in a carefully measured tone, as if he himself wasn’t sure what to call it. “I think you should come and see.”
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Callan arched his eyebrows at the non-explanation, but didn’t question his vice captain’s obscure words. He followed Eachen out into the night. Bernol and Mareet, the two soldiers who had been guarding his tent tonight, followed him as Eachen quickly led them towards the outer perimeter of the camp.
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The camp was up in alarm. Unclothed soldiers rushed out of their tents, hastily juggling their clothes and weapons as they rushed towards the southern base of the hill they were camped upon. A sizable crowd had already gathered at the spot. Callan’s heart pounded but he maintained a stoic expression on his face.
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The crowd of soldiers parted as Eachen and Callan approached, revealing a grisly sight. Callan sucked in his breath. Two of his soldiers lay mutilated under the base of a tree. Their skin was ripped apart to reveal muscles, bone and tendons around their ribs, stomach and thighs. A deep gash encircled their throats from where blood had drained down their torsos drenching their white uniforms in red. It had also seeped into the ground surrounding them, filling the air with a coppery tang. He identified one of the dead soldiers as Vernak who transferred to the 17th from the 5th division just before they started this mission. The man had a wife and two children, a daughter and a newborn son. The other man, he couldn’t recognize due to the wounds to his face.
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“Mevak, captain.” Eachen informed him. “He was with the 17th for almost five years.”
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Callan nodded, not trusting himself to speak right then. His stomach was roiling and he was afraid he would throw up.
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Calm down, Callan. You cannot afford to show any weakness right now. You have trained for this.
He took a long breath. “What happened?”
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Eachen nodded to another young face who was standing to their left, the soldier’s eyes fixed on the ground. Two of the senior officers stood around him. One of them was Forgis.
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“I don’t know, captain. Everything happened so fast.” The young soldier’s body shook as he spoke and one of the older soldiers grasped his shoulders to steady him. “I just left to refill my water skin. I was gone not more than a moment or two. When I returned, Mevak was already dead. I saw Vernak over.”, he pointed to a clump of trees to their right, “He was strugglin’ with something. I couldn’t see what, t’was too dark. Next thing I know, he clutches his throat, turns and looks at me and then slumps to the ground. Then I started shoutin’.”
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“What is your name, soldier?” Callan asked.
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“Brine, sir!”
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“And you didn’t see who Vernak was fighting with?”
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Brine frowned as if he was trying to make up his mind to say more. Then Callan saw Forgis give him the slightest shake of his head and the young man’s face tightened.
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“No, sir! I’m sorry!”
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Callan clenched his teeth. He would have to talk to the man again later, away from Forgis and the rest of his cronies.
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“What about the others?” He said surveying the crowd. “Entol and the two others who were part of the night watch?”
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The gathered soldiers looked at each other, scanning the crowd for the missing faces. Callan clenched his fist in frustration. No one thought to look for them! Sometimes he wondered if the high counciliary had not purposefully given him the most stubborn ill-trained regiment in the whole army to command.
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“It’s their doing.” Forgis suddenly spoke up. “It’s those Nogar savages. They did this.”
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Forgis’s eyes were fixed on Callan, but he raised his voiceto be heard by the crowd.
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Callan met his gaze camly. “Do you have any proof of that soldier?”
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“Who else could it be?” Forgis spat. “It’s their doing I’m tellin’ ya. None else but us and them around here. I told ya we should’ve shown those heathen mountain forlacs the fear of Joha when we had the chance.”
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He saw the crowd stir at his words, their expressions reshaping into anger and fury. This man had a hold over his regiment, a hold Callan needed to break soon.
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“And I suppose, they risked trekking through the mountains at night, for what? So they can kill a couple of soldiers and then run away?”
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“Who knows how their mind works? Animals, the lot of them.” Frogis snarled. “I say we go back to the village and show those heathens the wrath of the Blessed Mother herself.”
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A murmur spread through the crowd as Forgis stared at Callan with a fierce expression. Eachen stiffened beside him but Callan gently placed a hand on his vice-captain’s forearm. Callan could not be sure it wasn’t the villagers who had attacked the camp, but he knew he needed to stamp out the rising anger immediately before some foolhardy soldier decided it was worth trekking through the mountains in the dark for revenge. Forgis was not only an arrogant fool, he was a dangerous one. Luckily, Callan had more ammunition up his sleeve against him than the fool realized.
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“Tell me something Eachen, who all were on the night watch tonight?” He raised his own voice to be heard over the crowd.
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Eachen raised his eyebrows. “Mevak, Vernak, Entol, Brine, Ferdick and Leon.” He listed out the names.
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Callan frowned. “All the junior most officers? I thought I had made it clear there would be at least two experienced officers assigned to the watch every night while we are in the mountains.”
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“They were, captain.” Eachen scowled at the senior men. “I suppose some of them exchanged duties.”
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Callan saw the colour drain from Forgi’s and some other senior officer’s faces. Callan rounded on them with admonishment.
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“I do not believe that is standard procedure, is it Eachen? To exchange duties without your knowledge or consent. And now two of our youngest officers are dead and three missing in what looks like an ambush.”
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The murmurs through the crowd stopped and faces turned to look at Forgis and the two senior soldiers standing with him. Callan turned back to Eachen, his eyes blazing with fury.
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“Form a search party and find the missing officers, Eachen, instead of wasting time standing here throwing accusations. I will not lose soldiers out of sheer incompetence and lack of discipline.” Callan did not have to look around to know that every single eye was fixed on him now. He snarled. “And, if they are not found, inform the responsible officers who decided it was acceptable to shirk their duties tonight, that I will have their hides.”
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He saw the men pale under his furious gaze and turned to look at Brine. “I need to ask you one more question, soldier. Follow me to my tent.”
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Brine looked alarmed at the request and his brown eyes widened in fear.
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“Sir, he is still in shock. Maybe it will be better to wait till morning.” One of the soldiers standing next to Forgis suggested, his hands clamped on Brine’s shoulders.
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Callan raised his eyebrows at him and the middle-aged soldier withered, and backed away. Callan nodded at Brine to follow him and started walking back towards his tent. In the background, he heard Eachen arranging search parties but his mind was already a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.
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He could’ve stopped Entol from taking up the watch that night. If something happened to the boy … He imagined Entol’s face on the dead soldier’s body and shivered. This was not supposed to be a dangerous mission. Now he had to find them and figure out what in Joha’s name was going on in these mountains, quickly before he lost more men.
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Arriving at his tent, he drew the flap and ushered Brine in. The nervous young man stepped in cautiously, looking around like it was the first time he had seen the inside of it. Callan realized it probably was. He gestured to Brine to take the wood stump beside the fire pit and then used a flint to light it. He took a goblet, filled it with Alpinion wine from the cask on his desk, and handed it to the frightened man.
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“Go on. Drink it!” Callan encouraged, when Brine looked at the goblet skeptically. “It will help with the shock.”
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Brine took a small sip, liked the taste and took another. Callan schooled his face into what he hoped was a less severe expression and sat down opposite to him.
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“So, what did you really see, Brine?” He asked in a gentle voice.
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“I didn’t see nothin’ more captain. I swear. T’was too dark.” Brine answered, too quickly.
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“Brine!” Callan pressed on. “I need to know. Your fellow soldiers are missing and I need to know what we are up against. Whatever you saw, you can tell me.”
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Brine hesitated. “It’s just captain, you wouldn’t believe me if I told ya. That’s what they said. It was pretty dark n all. And we had been tradin’ stories at the last meal. So I’m not even sure if what I saw was real or I imagined it.”
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“Brine! Just tell me exactly what happened and let me decide whether to believe or not.” Callan suppressed his impatience and tried a smile. “It was shocking, wasn’t it. Seeing Vernak and Mevak dead like that.”
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Brine flushed. “I have never seen no one die before.”
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“The first time can be frightening.” The bloodless pale face of Tyrin popped into Callan’s mind and he hastily suppressed it. “The fear can play tricks on you, make you see things that are not there.”
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Brine nodded. “Aye! That’s what they said.”
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“But sometimes, you also see things that you don’t really realize you did. And in fear, you start to believe you saw something else entirely.”
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Brine nodded, slowly.
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“That is why I need you to tell me what you thought you saw, even if you don’t understand or believe it. Do you understand?”
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“Ah.. I do, captain.”
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“Good! Now tell me exactly what happened from the moment you saw Vernak fighting in the woods.”
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Brine looked down at his feet, rubbing his palms together. “Vernak was not exactly fightin’, captain. It seemed more like something had captured ‘im and he was struggling to get free. Then he grabbed his throat and turned. He was lookin’ white as death, and blood was everywhere. Then he just dropped to the ground, captain. And that’s when I saw it.”
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Brine looked up to meet Callan’s eyes, his own eyes round with fear. “The moon was shining right into the trees, you see. So there was no way it should’ve been so dark. But it was so black captain, black as the night sky, except for the eyes and the hair.”
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“What about them?” Callan leaned forward, urging the frightened young man to continue.
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“They were on fire, captain. Eyes and hair blazing with red fire. Just like the stories.” Brine’s voice dropped to a whisper and his pupil expanded and seemed to swallow his irises whole. “It was a demon, captain. I saw a demon.”
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---
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Eren threw off the bed covers and jumped to his feet, gasping for breath. Sweat pooled from his forehead and dripped down his nose and cheeks into his nightshirt. His heart hammered against his ribcage and his legs felt unsteady and wobbly. He thought he was going to heave but the nauseous feeling subsided, leaving an aching hollow in his stomach.
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It’s not real. It’s not real!” He muttered frantically pacing around his bedroom. “
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But he could still feel the warm skin as it had ripped underneath his fingers, smell the coppery tang of blood as it flowed down his forearms, and hear the choking sounds the man made clutching his throat which he, Eren, had split open using his nails. He glanced at his hands, expecting it to be coated in blood and gore. But, they were the same as ever, brown and calloused with clean short trimmed fingernails.
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“What is happening to me?”
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He had dreamed he killed a man. No, not just one man, but several men. They were not much older than him and were dressed like soldiers. He had been in a forest of some sorts, in the mountains maybe. He couldn’t quite remember his surroundings; the background had been unfocused. But the men he killed had been very real.
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No. It is just a dream. How could I kill anyone in a dream?
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Out of habit, he waited for the nasty little voice in his head to dispute him. But for once, it did not emerge and all he heard was silence, without and within.
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Maybe I finally scared it out of my mind, Eren thought ruefully.
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He stopped pacing and sat down at the edge of his bed, clutching his head in his hands.
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I am really going insane!
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Calm down, Eren! Stop panicking over a dream!
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I am killing people!
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It is just a dream!
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He gritted his teeth in frustration, then sighed. What time was it? He wondered if he should risk going back to sleep. His nightmares had never returned twice in a night before. But what in Beniot’s fire did he know? He had never killed anyone in his nightmare before either.
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To distract his mind, he absently turned his gaze around the room, and his eyes fell on the carmine wool coat stitched with bright gold patterns and the grey silk breeches that hung from his bedroom door. And he suddenly remembered what day it was. He was getting engaged in a few hours. Eren groaned.
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His mind had finally buckled under the strain of his emotions sometime yesterday. And, in place of anticipation, fear and guilt that he had been carting around for the last couple of weeks, he now only felt a resigned indifference. But he was not looking forward to wearing that atrocious coat. He had tried it on once and decided he looked less like a handsome young groom as his dad insisted, and more like an overripe pret covered in gold filigree and walking on dried rangy grey sticks.
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He walked over and grabbed the sleeve of the vividly colored garment, flipping it in his hand as he once again looked for a way to remove the gold stitching. But it was too fine for him to pick without ruining the coat completely. He dropped the sleeve, sat back down on his bed and groaned. Then he flopped down on his back and debated the merits of running away just so that he did not have to wear the garish costume. It was a good distraction and somewhere between planning whether he should go to Darfin and sail to Sailene or travel to Ashinai and take the longer but more adventurous land route, he fell back asleep.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVq1qPvJPn3
