All Things Begin - The Anmah Series Book 1

“What do you think they are talking about?”

“Home, probably. Although, Sophyra looks a couple of years younger than him, so I wonder how much she actually remembers about their village. After all, he was only six when he left.”

Dinton and Tero were tending to last meal as Ga’briyel and Sophyra sat together on the ground about fifty paces away, out of earshot of the others. They had traveled upstream for about an hour until the light failed to the point of danger if they continued. They had made camp, and Ga’briyel had helped Sophyra down from the horse.

“Are you all right?” he had asked when he saw her grimace as her feet hit the ground.

“Yes, I am fine.” Sophyra had tried to walk toward the river, but her first step had caused her knees to buckle, and she would have fallen had Ga’briyel not caught her.

“Take it easy,” he said softly. “Riding a horse takes some getting used to. Here, sit down while I tend to Kumar, and then I will help you walk it off.” He led her to a large stone by the water and eased her down.

As he turned to go back to his horse, she grabbed his hand. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised in question.

“I just wanted to say thank you for saving me,” she said, glancing once at his face before fixing her gaze on the ground.

He knelt in front of her and tilted her face up so that he could see her eyes. “It was entirely my pleasure, I promise.” He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and then stood to take care of his horse.

That had been almost an hour ago. After the horses were released to graze, Dinton had quickly spoken up and said that he and Tero would set about making last meal. Ga’briyel had clapped his friend on the back with a smile and had walked over to where Sophyra had stood up and was rubbing her backside. He took her by the arm and walked back and forth along the riverbank for about ten minutes until she again said that she was fine. At that point, Ga’briyel had brought her back to the rock and sat her down on it before settling on the ground by her feet. Sophyra had frowned and slid off the stone to sit in front of him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You are my master. If you sit on the ground, so do I.”

A frown chased away his smile, and she dropped her head again. “Sophyra, please stop doing that.”

“Doing what, Ga’briyel?”

“Looking down. You have beautiful eyes. I like to look at them.”

“But…”

“What? Why do you look down?”

She shook her head without raising it. “It is not right for a slave to look at her master without permission.”

Ga’briyel felt anger building in him. “You are not my slave, and I am not your master. You may have been a slave to the Asabya, but you are my…I do not know what you are, but you are definitely not my slave.”

“But, even if we were still in our village, you would be my chief. You are my master.”

“No, I am not! I am not a chief, and you are not my subject or my slave! We have no people anymore, Sophyra. Over whom am I chief? You? Until a couple of hours ago, I thought I was the only one left from Desa. I have never been chief, and I never will be!”

Sophyra had hunched into herself during his little outburst, and Ga’briyel instantly felt guilty. He sighed deeply and placed his hands on her arms.

“Sophyra, please look at me.”

She raised her eyes slowly, and he frowned deeper when he saw resignation in them.

“I will tell you this as many times as it takes for you to believe me. I will not hurt you. I know you were hurt by the Asabya, but I will never do those things to you. Never.” His hands had started moving without conscious thought on his part, and they were softly sliding up and down her arms. He lifted one hand and trailed the backs of his fingers along her temple and down her jaw until he had her chin between his fingers. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, and he desperately wanted to kiss her, but he kept himself from doing so. The images of the Asabya and their actions toward her were still fresh in his mind, and he did not want to give her any reason to think he was like them. He closed his eyes briefly and backed away from her before opening them again.

“What is the matter?” Sophyra’s face was marred by her own frown. “Why do you not want me?”

It was Ga’briyel’s turn to look down, not in shame or fear, but in order to get his emotions under control. As it was, when he looked up again, his eyes were blazing violet. Sophyra gasped and shied away from him.

Ga’briyel held his breath and tried to dim his eyes, but his anger had flared again at her question, and he was not having any luck. After a few moments, he said, “I do want you, Sophyra, more than you can imagine, but I know what those men did to you—what they were going to do to you—and I do not want you to think I am like them. I will not force myself on you, ever.”

“I have been trained to serve my master in any way he sees fit,” she said. “I am not to complain or refuse, sir.”

Ga’briyel growled softly before catching himself. “I am not your master, Sophyra! Stop saying that!”

“I do not understand, sir,” she said, shaking her head. “You killed my former master and took me with you. If you are not my master, what are you?”

Ga’briyel tilted his head and studied her. “I would like to be your friend and your protector.”

Sophyra looked thoughtful. “I have not had a friend since my master took me away from Desa, sir. Not a real one. There were other slaves in his household, but we were not supposed to talk to each other. We did sometimes, though. There was a girl about my age once a long time ago, but she left after only a few moons.”

“What else, Sophyra? Tell me about your life with the Asabya.”

And she did. She started off slowly, but as she talked she grew bolder, and eventually, she even stopped inserting “sir” or “Ga’briyel” after every few sentences.

For the next hour, she told him that she was one of four girls who had been taken from their village. The other three had been traded to other Asabya within days of the raid, and she had no idea what had happened to them. Her master—his name was Edel, but to her he was simply Master—had taken her back to the town of Grama where her training had started immediately. She told Ga’briyel about life in the town and the first five years during which she had learned the laws governing slaves and masters and how to submit without complaint. The next four had been spent learning the ways women serviced men. Since the age of fourteen, most of her time had been spent pleasuring her master and his friends. She told Ga’briyel about being brought along when her master raided villages, about servicing him for the last six years, about being the entertainment in the camp when the men got bored or when their bloodlust turned into a different kind of lust. With every tale, Ga’briyel grew more and more furious, and his eyes glowed brighter until they were torches blazing in the darkening night. He kept his eyes down so as not to scare Sophyra, but she could still see the light shining from them.

He glanced up when she fell silent.

“What is it, Sophyra?”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Your eyes are not normal. What are you?”

The bluntness of the question caused him to smile grimly. “I am Anmah.”

She did not return the smile. Instead she frowned thoughtfully. “The Anmah are not real. They are a children’s tale. No one can live forever.”

“I can. Unless I choose not to, that is.”

“I do not understand.”

“The only way I can die is if I kill myself,” Ga’briyel said.

“Why would you do that?”

“Honestly, I cannot imagine any good reason. But you have to understand, most Anmah who die are hundreds of years old. I am only twenty-one. I have a lot of living to do.”

She studied him closely. “What happened to you after the raid?”

His smile instantly disappeared as he recounted his journey to Torkeln, but he refrained from telling her about his deaths. She did not need to know about that just yet. The smile returned when he told her about the Mistris and his time with the Chatra and then the Palace Guard.

“Why are you here if you have such a good life in Torkeln?”

He looked at her and said, “To make the Asabya pay for what they did in Desa, for what they continue to do across the plains.”

She nodded. “Good. They all deserve to die.”

“What about the women and children, Sophyra? Are they as bad as the men?”

“Oh, no! Although they are not slaves, they are not much better. Wives must submit to their husbands in everything, and children are beaten for every small offense. I once saw a boy get his arm broken by his father for not finishing his food. The Asabya think it makes the children stronger, but it only makes them cruel, and cruelty is not strength.”

Ga’briyel reached out a hand without speaking, and Sophyra froze. He just smiled and cupped her cheek.

“You are a very wise person, Sophyra,” he said softly, “and I am very glad that I found you.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch with a sigh. Then her eyes opened, and she got to her knees before scooting close to him. Her hands moved to the hem of her shirt, and she started to take it off. Ga’briyel quickly grabbed her hands, stilling them.

“What are you doing?”

She smiled, but it was unnatural. “I wish to show you my gratitude for saving me. Let me pleasure you.”

Ga’briyel had not opened his mind to her during their entire discussion, but he did so now to better judge her true intentions, and, as he had expected, he found that she felt physically ill at the thought of what she was about to do. He shut her out again and disengaged her fingers from her shirt.

“No, not that way. I know you do not want to.”

“But I do!”

“No, Sophyra, you do not. Trust me when I say I know that better than you do.”

“But I want to thank you.”

Ga’briyel smiled sadly. “Then just say ‘thank you.’ That will suffice. You do not have to do anything else.”

The relief that flashed across her face was obvious. “Thank you, Ga’briyel,” she said softly.

“You are more than welcome,” he answered before climbing to his feet and holding out his hand to her. “Come on, we need to eat.”

She took his hand and stood. When he tried to release it, however, she clung tightly to him. They walked to the fire where Dinton and Tero were lounging, Tero whittling again.

“About time,” Dinton said. “There’s stew left in the pot for you two.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Ga’briyel said and then he frowned.

Sophyra had tensed and was standing slightly behind him, her eyes on the ground, her grip on his hand almost painful.

“Sophyra, they will not harm you, either. Dinton and Tero are my friends, and they are good men. You have no reason to be afraid anymore.”

He pulled her forward and put his arm around her shoulder. Tero put down his wood and knife and stood up. Ga’briyel felt Sophyra start to shake, but he held her firmly, and she stiffened in surprise when Tero knelt before her, his open hand on his heart.

“I swear my life to you, lady,” he said, his eyes on hers. “I will give my life before I let anyone harm you.”

Not to be outdone, Dinton joined him. “I also pledge my life to you. I will do everything in my power to make sure you are kept safe.”

“Thank you,” Sophyra whispered, utter shock in her voice. Then she looked at Ga’briyel, her eyes wide.

“No one will ever hurt you again, Sophyra,” he said softly and kissed her forehead. “We will protect you.”

After last meal, Ga’briyel went to his saddlebags and pulled out the heavy cloak he had used in the mountains. He handed it to Sophyra. “I hope you do not mind sleeping on the ground,” he said. “You can use this to stay warm.”

She took it and gave him the first genuine smile he had seen from her. “Thank you, Ga’briyel.”

“You are welcome. Now, get some sleep. We will break camp at first light.”

She wrapped the cloth around her and lay down next to the fire. Ga’briyel joined his friends on the other side and softly told them what Sophyra had told him.

“You mean to say that she was only nine or ten when they started training her for men?” Dinton said in disbelief.

Ga’briyel nodded grimly. “She is a year younger than I am, so she was ten.”

His friend growled softly. “I do believe I am beginning to hate them almost as much as you do.”

Laughing quietly, Ga’briyel clapped his friend on the back. “I seriously doubt that.”

Dinton grinned. “So do I. Now, take your own advice and go to sleep. Tero will wake you for third watch.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

“Very funny.”

Ga’briyel chuckled and grabbed his blanket before settling down not far from Sophyra. He had just gotten comfortable and closed his eyes when he sensed someone near him. He opened his eyes and saw her kneeling before him, clutching his cloak around herself.

“What is it?” he asked, raising himself up on one hand.

“May I sleep here with you?” she said timidly.

“You know you do not have to do that.”

“Not for…I just feel safer near you.”

He nodded, and she released a nervous breath. “Thank you.”

She lay down close to him, but not touching, facing away from him, and laid her head on her arm. He lay down behind her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. He had been telling the truth when he had told Dinton he could stay awake for days at a time, but the battle and the lack of sleep the night before were more tiring than he had expected, and he quickly fell asleep.

At least, he thought he did. He opened his eyes when a deep voice he did not recognize spoke his name. He looked around, but the camp was as it should have been. Sophyra was sleeping in front of him, Dinton was sitting across the fire cleaning his sword, and Tero was snoring softly nearby.

He sat up, expecting his friend to at least glance up at the movement, but Dinton just continued to rub the cloth up and down the steel in his hand.

“Dinton?”

There was no response, and Ga’briyel frowned. He opened up his mind to his friend to see what was wrong with him, and for the first time, there was nothing.

“What is going on?” he whispered, standing up and drawing his sword from its scabbard, which was propped up on his saddlebags. He turned in slow circles and even went so far as to walk over to Dinton, but there was no reaction. He tried to see the thoughts of the two sleeping people, which was a little unnerving. It would have meant seeing their dreams, but again, there was nothing.

“I must be dreaming,” he said.

“Not exactly.”

He whipped around, sword ready, toward the voice behind him. He was now looking at the river, at the spot where he and Sophyra had talked, but there was no one there.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Where are you? Show yourself!”

“As you wish.”

As Ga’briyel stared into the dark, a glow formed over the water. He stepped toward it, his sword never wavering. The glow slowly formed into the shape of a man, but it still hovered over the river. As it solidified, it moved onto the bank. By the time it reached dry ground, it had coalesced into a man taller than Ga’briyel, dressed in spotless white clothes, from his shirt to his shoes.

“Who are you?” Ga’briyel asked again.

“I have no name,” the man said. “I have been sent by Yisu to talk to you.”

Ga’briyel laughed harshly. “Yisu sent you? The Creator Himself sent you to talk to me? Right.”

“You do not believe me?”

“Why should I?”

The man looked thoughtful. “That is a good question. We Debaduta do not often reveal ourselves to humans. I suppose you have reason to doubt me.”

“I am not human,” Ga’briyel said. “I am Anmah.”

The man waved a hand in dismissal. “You are still human,” he said. “You are simply an immortal human.”

Ga’briyel frowned at that. Ma’ikel had told him that Anmah were a different race of beings, not human at all. He had also told him about Debaduta, the spirit servants of Yisu.

“And Ma’ikel was wrong. About you, not us. He is not infallible, you know. Very old, but not all-knowing. He was right about us serving Yisu, however.”

It was a shock having someone read his thoughts, and Ga’briyel’s frown deepened.

The man chuckled. “Disconcerting, is it not? Now you know how others around you feel when you read them.”

Ga’briyel shook his head to clear it. “So, you are spirit, not flesh. What are you doing here? And what did you mean when you said I am not exactly dreaming?”

“I told you, I have been sent by Yisu to talk to you. You are asleep, it is true, but this is not a dream. It is a visitation. You should be honored; it has not happened in over five thousand years.”

“A visitation?”

“Yes. Most of the time, Yisu lets His world run without His direct influence, but every once in a while, something happens that requires Him to take action. Such a thing is happening now. That is why I am here.”

“I do not understand.”

“Of course you do not. Now, put away your sword, and I will explain.”

“I would rather keep it, if you do not mind.”

“But I do mind,” the man said, and in the next instant, Ga’briyel’s sword disappeared from his hand. He looked around and saw that it was back in its scabbard.

“How did you do that?”

“While this is not exactly a dream, it is not reality, either. I can manipulate everything here. But that is not important. Sit, and I will deliver my message.”

Ga’briyel moved to the rock on which Sophyra had sat earlier, and eased himself down on it.

“Good boy,” the man said, and Ga’briyel snarled at him. “Oh, do not take that the wrong way. You are all babes to me, even Ma’ikel.”

“Why? How old are you?”

The man laughed. “My brethren and I were created by Yisu at the beginning of time.”

“Your brethren? How many of you are there?”

“More than you could count. There is a great evil in the world, Ga’briyel Mistri el’Adama, and no, it is not the Asabya. They are evil, yes, but what is brewing is a thousand times worse. It is for this that you were created. It is for this that you were made Anmah and Sainika at six years old. You are to be the one to battle this evil in Yisu’s name. You are the only human in the world who can defeat it.”

“Me?” Ga’briyel tried not to laugh. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“You have been created for this. Everything you are, everything you know, everything you can do has been for this. With your skills, you can conquer both humans and Daitya…”

“Daitya? Servants of Sayatan?”

“The same.”

“But they are spirit like you, are they not? How am I supposed to fight spirits?”

“In their spirit form, they can do nothing but try to convince humans to turn to Sayatan. They are no real threat unless they take solid form, as I am now. Then they can kill. Worse, if they so choose, they can capture souls and banish them to Hell.”

“Can they kill me? Capture my soul?”

“They cannot kill you permanently, and your soul is safe. You will always come back from the deaths they cause you. You have Yisu’s protection against their weapons that can kill normal Anmah because you are Sainika. However, you are still susceptible to their words, so guard yourself against them. You have been raised to follow Yisu, and they will do their best to lead you astray. If that happens, if you turn to Sayatan, the world is doomed.”

Ga’briyel sat silently for a moment, thinking that he could never turn away from Yisu to the Evil One.

“Anyone can, Ga’briyel, even you if you are tempted strongly enough.”

A grimace crossed Ga’briyel’s face at the thought.

“Do Daitya visit dreams as well?”

“Not the dreams of those who follow Yisu.”

“How will I know them for what they are?”

The Debaduta chuckled. “Trust me, with your abilities, you will know.”

“Why do the Debaduta not fight them? Why does it have to be me?”

“We cannot permanently harm each other. Temporarily banish, yes, but not destroy. And we cannot touch them once they take solid form, and they cannot harm us. That is why Yisu has called you to do it.”

“Just me? What about the others? Can they help?”

“Dinton and Tero can help with the humans, but the Daitya can only be killed by a Sainika. Why do you think Yisu creates Sainika? It is for the sole purpose of killing Sayatan’s minions when he releases his evil into the world. Once you kill them, the spirit is destroyed forever. Wiped from existence.”

Ga’briyel shook his head. “I do not understand all of this.”

“You will. I may visit you again in the future, or it may be someone else. Either way, it will only be if Yisu has a message for you, so do not wait around for another visitation. It may happen or it may not. Now, it is time for me to leave.”

“Wait! I have more questions.” Ga’briyel stood up and reached for the Debaduta.

“You will have to find your own answers,” the spirit said, drifting backward even as he started to dissolve.

“What about my revenge on the Asabya?”

Another low chuckle came from the glow that was once again over the river. “Take it if you wish. Go to Grama as you had planned. As I said, the Asabya are indeed evil, and if you wish to rid the world of them, do so. Just know that they are a minor evil compared to what you will encounter soon.”

Ga’briyel wanted to ask more, but the glow disappeared, and he was left standing on the riverbank staring out across the water. He growled softly, spun on his heel, and stormed back to the camp. When he got there, he stopped. Dinton had put his sword away and was waking Tero for his turn at the watch. The older man climbed to his feet, rolled up his blanket, and glanced over at Sophyra before putting more wood on the fire. As Dinton settled in to sleep, Tero grabbed his whittling and sat down where Dinton had been. Ga’briyel frowned when neither of the men saw him, and he walked back to Sophyra. He grabbed his blanket from where it had fallen and wrapped it around himself. Then he lay down behind her again. He wanted to stay awake and think about what had just happened, but the next thing he knew, Tero was shaking him.

“Come on, Ga’briyel. I know you are comfortable, but it is your turn.”

Ga’briyel opened his eyes and saw his friend staring down at him.

“Get up. It is your turn for the watch. Just try not to wake the girl while you do it.”

Ga’briyel looked down and saw that Sophyra was turned toward him, her head on his chest. His arm was draped over her waist, and he had to admit that Tero was right. He was comfortable. Nevertheless, he slowly extracted himself from her, stood up, and stretched. Then he picked up his sword belt and buckled it around his waist. He expected it to feel strange considering what had happened in his dream, but there was nothing unusual about it.

“You look awful,” Tero said, narrowing his eyes. “I can stay awake if you need more sleep.”

“No, I am fine,” Ga’briyel said. “I just had a dream.”

“A nightmare by the look of you.”

“No, not a nightmare. Just a very strange dream.”

“All right, if you say so. Safe watch, Ga’briyel.”

“Good dreams, Tero.”

Instead of sitting where the other two had, Ga’briyel walked to the river. As he stood watching the water run past him, he thought of his dream. He told himself that was what it was, but he could not convince himself. He thought about what the Debaduta had said, that he had been put into the world by the Creator to fight the servants of the Evil One himself. In a way, it made sense. Ma’ikel had said that there had been no Sainika for five thousand years, and his histories only had vague references to that time. One scroll, however, had hinted at a catastrophe that had almost destroyed the world. The story was that one Anmah, the last Sainika, had been the world’s savior. The scroll was incomplete, however, and there was no record of how he had become so or what he did. Another scroll seemed to indicate that the Sainika had been the one to almost destroy the world. Ga’briyel hoped it was the former that was true.

Ga’briyel moved back to the fire and poked the smoldering wood into flames. He was too restless to sit, so he walked the perimeter of the camp, stopping only occasionally to feed the fire.

When the eastern sky began to lighten, he got a pot and filled it with water. After putting it over the fire, he got grain out of his saddlebags and tossed it into the water. He squatted next to the fire and stirred the porridge slowly. He heard footsteps behind him, and he smiled when a soft hand covered his.

“Let me do that.”

He handed the spoon to Sophyra, sat back, and watched her as she knelt beside the fire.

“You know you do not have to do that. You could sleep a little longer.”

“I want to do it. You have done everything for me, and I have done nothing for you. I can at least cook for you.”

“You have done something for me,” Ga’briyel said, placing his hand on her arm.

She looked at him quizzically. “What is that?”

“You have made me happy.”

She scoffed and looked away. “How have I done that?”

He took her chin in his hand and turned her face back to him. “You have let me know that I am not the only survivor from Desa, and you have given me something beautiful to look at.”

His eyes dropped to her mouth, and his breathing sped up. He leaned close, but stopped when he felt her breath on his lips. He silently cursed his lack of control and tried to move away from her, but she grabbed his hand and held on tightly.

“You want to kiss me, I know,” she whispered.

“Yisu, I do, but…”

“Then kiss me, Ga’briyel. Please? I want you to kiss me.”

He groaned softly. “Sophyra, I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. I know you are nothing like the Asabya, nothing like my master. I want to know what a kiss feels like.”

“You have never been kissed?”

“Not since Desa. Kisses are for people who like each other, who love each other. My master and his friends did not even like me; I was simply there for their amusement and cruel pleasures. You like me, though, yes?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then please kiss me.”

Ga’briyel took her face in his hands and once again looked at her mouth. Her lips were parted, and he trailed his thumb over the bottom one. “Are you sure?”

She just nodded, and he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft, and they tasted sweet. He tried to keep the kiss gentle, but her scent and the feel of her against him caused his good intentions to flee, and his hands moved on their own. One went to the back of her head, and the other dropped to the small of her back. He pulled her flush to himself and deepened the kiss. Her hands moved to his shoulders. When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily, and her face was flushed.

Sophyra opened her eyes and stared into his, which were blazing brightly. “You can do that anytime you wish,” she said with a small smile. “How many girls have you kissed to be so experienced at it?”

“One,” Ga’briyel admitted. “That was my first kiss, too.” She gave him a look that clearly said she did not believe him, and he shrugged. “There has never been anyone I wanted to kiss before.” Then he grinned. “My mother does not count.”

She separated herself from him and moved back to stir the porridge, “Do you always do things so well the first time?”

“No, not always. I am a very quick study, though. Once I start to learn something, I get really, really good at it.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “What are you saying?”

“Only that the next kiss will be even better.”

She gave him a shy smile, and Ga’briyel’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that not a little arrogant?”

“Arrogant? No. I know myself and my capabilities. It is just being confident.”

“Confidence, arrogance. Where does one end and the other begin?”

“Arrogance begins when you start making claims you cannot back up.”

She turned to him. “Would you like to back up your kissing claim now? I would like to see if you really learn as quickly as you say.”

He smiled at her and was about to prove to her that he was serious when Dinton spoke up from where he was lying on the ground, his head propped up on his hand.

“Nice, Ga’briyel, can I watch?”

Ga’briyel looked over Sophyra’s head at his friend and scowled at him. “No, thank you. This lady is the only one who gets to experience the proof of my prowess.”

Sophyra hung her head, but Ga’briyel could see the flushing of her cheeks even as she tried to hide it while she busied herself with the porridge. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Later.”

He laid a quick kiss on her temple and moved over to Dinton.

“Come on, you lay-about! First meal is ready, and we have got a long way to go today.”

Dinton grinned. “I hope that kiss was not your idea of something better, Ga’briyel. If it was, and I were Sophyra, I would be sorely disappointed.”

He rolled out of the way of Ga’briyel’s boot as it swung toward him. “Temper, temper, my friend,” he laughed as he rose to his feet. “I did not know you were so sensitive.”

“Now, now, children, let’s not bicker,” Tero said, rubbing his eyes with a smile.

Dinton threw back a remark about old men sleeping late and their bones creaking as they rose.A wrestling match ensued between the three men, which Ga’briyel won easily, even when the other two tried to take him together. Finally, however, first meal had been eaten, the horses readied, and the small group was on its way northward.