All Things Begin - The Anmah Series Book 1

Two days later, just as last light was falling, they came to their first village since crossing the mountains. It was not very large, only about thirty or so simple thatched cottages, arranged in a straight line on either side of a rough dirt path that had led from the river toward the east. Cultivated fields stretched out behind the buildings. The odd thing was that there was no one outside—no children playing in the waning light of day, no women gossiping through their windows or over their last chores, and no men coming home from a day’s work. There were only several dogs that barked at them as they passed by the houses and entered the center of the village. On the north side of the large, barren open space, broken only by a large well in the center, was a good-sized single-story stone building that looked new. It had a symbol painted in red on the door—a raven inside of a hexagon. It was painted with elegant, flowing lines, but it somehow seemed to radiate evil. Ga’briyel took one look at it and shuddered as a slimy sensation covered him. It felt as if someone had just upended a barrel of rancid fish oil over his head.

Across from it was an inn with a stable next to it. The inn was a two-story stone building with a gray slate roof and a wooden sign swinging over the door, creaking with the wind. The name “The Beggar and Rose” was painted in brilliant white, and a man in ragged clothing and a lady in a red gown were depicted in vibrant colors. The beggar was kneeling with a rose in his hand, and he held it up to the lady. Her hand was outstretched as if to take it. Every other building in the village was darkened, but the inn’s windows blazed with light, and Dinton sighed in relief.

“Thank Yisu! Tonight we get a bath and a bed and a decent meal.”

“And just what is wrong with my cooking?” Tero asked.

“Nothing, but you have to admit that with supplies running low, today’s midmeal was a little lean. I am yearning for a mahisa steak with potatoes and fresh vegetables dripping with butter.” He grinned. “But first, a long, hot bath.”

Tero laughed. “All right,” he conceded, “even I have to admit that sounds good.”

Ga’briyel and Sophyra said nothing. They were riding slightly ahead of the other two, and neither of them were in the mood for light banter. They were both trying to think of anything but what had consumed them for the last two days.

For his part, Ga’briyel was trying to ignore the heat coming from Sophyra. He knew what it meant, and he was not sure how much longer he was going to be able to ignore the fire that was building up between them. At the same time, she was thinking of him. During their ride north, she had had the opportunity to admire him without him noticing. His back was strong and muscular, and the way he sat his horse was sensual. More than once, she had been tempted to release the cantle of the saddle and wrap her arms around him instead, but she had been too scared to do so. Not scared of his anger, but scared of his rejection. Aside from a few kisses—and she had to admit he had definitely gotten better at that—he had barely looked at her, and she wanted him to do much more than look.

The Asabya had trained her to do what men wanted, and she had learned well, but her master had been a cruel man, and his desires had always left her in pain. During her training, however, she had watched other couples and had seen that there were other ways to pleasure a man that did not end up with bruises and black eyes and the inability to walk, and she desperately wanted to let Ga’briyel know how much she appreciated what he had done for her. Not to mention that her feelings for him had intensified a thousandfold in the past two days. She would never admit it to anyone but herself, but she had fallen in love with him.

Ga’briyel took one last look at the building to the north, and then he turned Kumar toward the inn and dismounted before reaching up and helping Sophyra down. The other two followed him, and then Ga’briyel looked around for a stable boy to take the horses. When he saw none, he grunted irritably.

“What kind of inn has no one to tend to the horses?”

“One that is not used to visitors, I would guess,” Tero answered.

Ga’briyel frowned and tied Kumar to the hitching post in front of the inn. “Stay here,” he said to the others and then walked to the door. He did not miss the fact that no noise came from the inn, and even when he pushed the door open and stepped inside, the only sound was the scraping of chairs along the floor as what looked like the entire population of the village turned to look at him, terror clouding their faces and turning the air around him into a thick, woolen blanket, scratchy and irritating. It was suddenly very hard for Ga’briyel to take a deep breath. He was about to speak when a portly man in a spotless white apron pushed his way through the crowd to bob a quick bow. He had long, graying dark hair pulled back into a tail at the nape of his neck and deep brown eyes. The man stood in front of him, his hands clasped together over his belly. He glanced down at Ga’briyel’s sword once and then brought his eyes back up, a sickly smile on his face. He balked when he saw Ga’briyel’s violet eyes, but he stood before the Anmah nonetheless.

“Ah, good sir! Welcome to The Beggar and Rose and our village of Difeld! I am Hearda. How may I be of service?”

The man’s words were cordial, and he was trying to appear as if nothing were out of the ordinary, but Ga’briyel could feel the man’s fear.

Ga’briyel’s eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. The villagers were all staring at him, their eyes wide. The suffocating feeling of terror intensified as he met their eyes, and every single one dropped their gaze after he did so. “My friends and I are in need of a place to stay,” he said cautiously, looking back at Hearda. “We have been traveling for several sennights and would like some rooms.” He looked back at Hearda. “That is, if we are not intruding on something.”

“Intruding, good sir? No, of course not.” Hearda’s audible gulp gave the lie to his words, though. “How many rooms do you need?”

“Four if you have them available. Two will suffice, however.”

“We have four, sir. We have not had many travelers come through here lately. With the—”

Ga’briyel frowned at him. “With the what?”

“Nothing, good sir, nothing at all.” Hearda attempted a chuckle, but he choked on it, and the people’s fear thickened even more.

“Fine,” Ga’briyel said slowly. “Do you have someone who can tend to our horses?”

“Of course, of course!” Hearda turned toward the crowd and called out, “Nemen! Ernam!” Two young boys scurried out of the crowd and huddled behind the man’s bulk. He reached behind him and gently pushed them toward Ga’briyel. They looked to be about ten years old. “These two will take good care of your horses, good sir. They are good boys.” The tone in which Hearda said this was almost pleading, and Ga’briyel’s frown returned, but he was not irritated; he was confused.

He nodded and said, “If you can get our rooms ready with hot baths, I would appreciate it. Also, we will need a good meal for afterward.”

“Of course, good sir! I will make sure all is ready for you.”

The ‘good sirs’ were getting annoying, but Ga’briyel only said, “Thank you.” He looked down at the boys and gestured toward the door. “After you,” he said kindly.

The boys glanced up at Hearda, and Ga’briyel saw a single tear trickle from the eye of one of them. The innkeeper nodded at them, and they trudged out the door into the darkening night.

Before following them, Ga’briyel said, “Oh, yes. I am in need of some women’s clothing. I have a companion who was deprived of hers, and she needs something sturdy that can be traveled in for long distances. Is there someone from the village, perhaps, who may be willing to sell something like that?”

“I am sure I can find someone who can help you, good sir.”

“Thank you. Tell whoever it is that I will pay what is fair for the clothing.”

“Of course, good sir.”

With that, Ga’briyel walked out into the fresh, night air.

The boys had followed the others to the stable next door, and Ga’briyel joined them. Dinton and Tero were busying themselves by divesting the saddles of bags, blankets, and weapons, obviously trying not to watch Sophyra. She was kneeling before the boys, her hands on their shoulders. One of the boys was crying freely, and the other’s chin trembled as he tried not to. Ga’briyel winced when he felt their terror.

“Tell me what is wrong,” she said softly.

“We are not supposed to talk about it,” the second one whispered.

“T..talking ab…bout it ma…makes it w…worse,” the other stammered.

Ga’briyel dropped to one knee before the boys, and they looked as if they would have fled if Sophyra had not held on to them.

“Which of you is Nemen?” he asked kindly.

The one who was crying held up one shaking hand.

“And you are Ernam?”

“Yes, sir,” the other boy said.

“Tell me what you are all afraid of.”

Both boys shook their heads violently. “He will know we talked,” Ernam breathed, “and we will end up like Masym!”

“Who will know?”

“Kardag! Masym talked bad about him, and he is dead!”

Ga’briyel growled low in his chest, and his eyes blazed. The boys gasped and took a step back, pulling themselves free from Sophyra’s grasp, their eyes wide.

“No, boys,” she said quickly. “He will not hurt you. None of us will hurt you. He is angry at what is happening to you. He is not angry at you.”

Forcing his eyes to dim and his fury to cool, Ga’briyel gave the boys a sincere smile. “She is right. I am not angry at you. Thank you for telling me as much as you did.” He reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out two silvers. He handed one to each boy, and he felt their fear diminish slightly. “Take good care of our horses, and you will each get another when you are done.”

“Yes, sir!” Ernam said, and Ga’briyel saw the hint of a smile from him. Nemen only nodded.

He sensed Dinton and Tero behind him, and he stood up and took his saddlebags and blanket roll from his friend. The horses were unsaddled and waiting in their stalls. Ga’briyel stared at his men, allowing his eyes to flare again, and they gave him silent nods.

“Come on, Sophyra,” Ga’briyel said softly, holding out his hand behind him without turning. She put her hand in his, and he grasped it tightly, letting her feelings for him wash away some of the villagers’ suffocating fear.

Together, the four walked into the inn, and once again, the villagers all turned to look at them silently. This time, however, Ga’briyel caught a glimpse of a body lying on a table along one wall. It was wrapped in a white cloth, and an elderly woman was sitting beside it crying softly.

“What is going on?” Dinton whispered as Hearda stepped up to them, wringing his hands together. Ga’briyel just shook his head as the innkeeper spoke.

“Ah, good sir! The rooms you requested are ready, and hot baths are waiting for you.” Hearda’s eyes moved to Sophyra, and a tiny smile curved his lips. “My lady! The good sir had mentioned you needed some proper traveling clothing. My wife, Eneith, is waiting in your room to see if she has something that might be suitable for you.”

“Thank you, Hearda,” Ga’briyel said. “Please, lead the way.”

The innkeeper bobbed a quick bow and moved to the stairs.There were eight doors leading off the hallway on the second floor, four on the right facing the town square, and the other four facing the fields. Hearda gestured toward them and said, “Eneith waits in the second room on the right, my lady. The first on that side and the two on the end are for you good sirs.” With another bow, he fled down the stairs, his bulk not slowing him down in the least.

Dinton and Tero looked at each other and then at Ga’briyel, but when Tero opened his mouth to speak, Ga’briyel held up a hand to stop him.

“Not now,” he said quietly. “Let’s just clean up. We can talk as we eat. Maybe this inn has a private dining room we can use.”

The two men nodded and disappeared behind the two furthest doors. Ga’briyel accompanied Sophyra to her door and opened it for her. As it opened, a lady almost as wide as Hearda quickly turned from the window to face them. Her waist-length hair was almost completely gray, and it was plaited to the left side of her head. Her eyes were as dark as Ga’briyel had ever seen, almost black.

“My lady, sir, my name is Eneith.” She gestured to a pile of fabric on the bed. “My husband told me you needed some proper clothing, my lady, and—” here she glanced at Sophyra’s current garments—“I must say I agree. Those are not what such a beautiful lady should be wearing.” She glanced at Ga’briyel with a small smile. “Please take no offense, sir.”

Ga’briyel cocked his head and studied her curiously. “I am not offended, Eneith, but may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, sir.”

“I am very good at reading people, and I know for a fact that those villagers downstairs are terrified of something, but I do not get the same thing from you. Why is that?”

Eneith’s smile immediately turned into a scowl. “Cowards! They are all scared that if they say anything against Kardag, they will end up like Masym. The greedy fool tried to steal from the man and got caught. If you ask me, he got what he deserved.”

“Death?” Ga’briyel said. “Is that not a little harsh for stealing?”

“Depends on what he tried to steal, does it not?”

“And what was that?”

“Masym had always said that if he could get enough coin, he would leave Difeld and go to a city, Torkeln maybe. He snuck into the temple across the way this afternoon and tried to take the gold shield from the altar. Kardag saw him, and the next thing anyone knew, Masym was lying in front of the temple, dead. Not a mark on him, but as dead as if he had had a sword driven through his heart.” She glanced down at Ga’briyel’s sword before looking back up at his eyes. He was amazed when she did not give any indication that there was anything different about them. “Now, sir, if you do not mind, I am sure the lady would like to choose some clothing and bathe before the water cools. Unless, of course, you wish to bathe with her?”

Ga’briyel’s eyes flashed and the confounded woman just smiled. “No! That is, I am sure the lady wants some time to be alone. She has not had that for a very long time.” He looked at Sophyra. “Is that not right?”

Sophyra inclined her head with her own smile as she dropped her eyes. “As you say, Ga’briyel. It will be nice to talk to a female and forget about the blathering of males for a while.” When she looked back up at him, Ga’briyel held his breath at the intensity of the fire he felt radiating toward him and which he saw in her gaze.

To Ga’briyel’s surprise, Eneith actually chuckled, and he stepped close to Sophyra, took her chin in his hand, and kissed her briefly. “I will see you soon, my lady,” he said as he let his eyes blaze brightly.

“Soon, good sir,” she answered, and he left the room, shutting the door behind him. As soon as it shut, the fear from downstairs inundated him again, and he quickly entered his own room and closed it off. Even with the door shut, however, he could feel it, and only the fire from Sophyra and Eneith’s indignation kept it bearable. He took a deep breath and looked around the room.

A single bed with a brightly colored quilt stood in one corner next to the window, and an oaken wardrobe occupied the other. A slat-backed wooden chair sat in another corner, and the floor was covered with a large braided rug in almost as many colors as the quilt. In front of the wardrobe stood a large copper tub and a wooden stand with soap, a linen cloth, and a large towel on it, and Ga’briyel could see the steam rising from the tub. He quickly deposited his bags and blanket roll on the floor at the end of the bed and stripped off his clothing and weapons. Then he stepped into the tub and sighed deeply as he slid into the water. It was almost too hot, but he did not care. He lowered himself until he was completely underwater, and he stayed there until he needed to breathe.

He spent almost half an hour in the water, washing away the grime of the past sennights, and when it finally cooled to the point of becoming uncomfortable, he reluctantly took the towel and stepped out onto the rug. He dried off and pulled his last clean pieces of clothing from his saddlebag and dressed. He slipped his boots on and had opened the door to go downstairs when he suddenly stepped back into the room and buckled his sword belt around his waist. He did not know why, but he felt the distinct need to be armed. Then he exited the room, shutting the door securely behind him. He made his way down the stairs, and the first thing he noticed was that the front room was empty. The second was that the wrapped body was gone, and the third was that some wonderful smells were coming from behind a door he assumed led to the kitchen.

“Ga’briyel! In here!”

He smiled and followed Dinton’s voice through a second door to his right. Dinton, Tero, and Sophyra were seated around a square table. He saw that his men had also armed themselves, so he did not feel quite so self-conscious sitting down to the table with his sword strapped to his hip. That did not keep his attention for long, however, because his eyes fixed on Sophyra, and he could not wrench them away.

She was dressed in a simple, blue dress with long sleeves and split skirts, but it fit her perfectly and accentuated the curves he had seen when she was in the river. The neckline was low enough to expose just the tops of her breasts, and he caught his breath when she looked at him. The blue of the fabric made the blue of her eyes even more beautiful, and he had to force himself to sit in the chair next to her instead of gathering her up in his arms and kissing her senseless.

“You look lovely,” he said, and he contented himself with taking her hand and kissing her knuckles.

“Thank you,” she said shyly, but the heat coming from her only intensified, and Ga’briyel had a hard time controlling himself. Thankfully, Hearda entered the room at that moment with a tray piled high with meat and potatoes and bread and steaming vegetables.

“I thought you might be hungry, good sirs, so I had Eneith make large portions for you.” He set the tray in the middle of the table and bobbed his way back out of the door, shutting it behind him.

The four travelers spent the next few minutes piling their plates with food, Sophyra only slightly less than the men. When everyone was satisfied with their selections, Ga’briyel spoke up, speaking softly enough that someone who might be listening through the door would not be able to hear him.

“So, have you heard anything more about what happened here?”

Sophyra said, “Eneith told me that this Kardag came to the village about three sennights ago and immediately put the men to work building that temple across the way. She said it went up in less than a sennight, which is rather remarkable considering the size. Once it was done, Kardag started proclaiming himself a priest of Pratima, a new deity that no one had ever heard of. Most of the villagers paid no attention to him initially, choosing to keep their faith in Yisu, but a few, mostly young ones, listened. As the days passed, more and more villagers seemed to agree with Kardag’s teachings, and now, she says that about a third of the village are followers of Pratima. They call themselves Anusari.

“Then, people started disappearing about a sennight ago, and others were killed, like Masym. The strange thing is that none of the followers of Pratima think the disappearances and deaths are anything out of the ordinary. And even more strange is that people are still turning away from Yisu and turning to Pratima, even with everything that has been happening.”

The three men stared at her, and then Tero smiled. “Women and their gossiping,” he said lightly. “It seems it is actually good for something.”

Ga’briyel was about to speak when the same slimy sensation from earlier overwhelmed him. His stomach roiled, and he felt as if he might lose the meal he had just consumed. He felt the blood drain from his face, and he groaned as he put his head in his hand.

“Ga’briyel, what is wrong?” Dinton’s voice held the smallest touch of panic. “You look sick.”

Shaking his head wordlessly, Ga’briyel stood up and walked to the window. He opened it and was about to breathe deeply of the night air when he looked across the square and saw someone standing on the steps of the temple. The man was tall, a little taller than Ga’briyel, and he was stick thin. He wore blood-red robes which were cinched around his waist by a wide, black sash, and his hands were folded into the sleeves. He must have been the temple’s priest. His eyes were black in the night, and when Ga’briyel’s violet gaze met his, the oily sensation increased tenfold, and it was all he could do to keep his stomach contents where they were.

The man smiled at him, but it was as if a serpent could smile. Ga’briyel could almost picture a forked tongue slithering out between the perfect, white teeth. He was about to mention the man to the others when a vision crashed into his brain, causing him to stagger back a step and put his hand to his temple. The vision was of the man standing over Masym inside the temple. The latter was lying on his back on a table, unmoving except for his eyes, which were flitting back and forth from the priest to the door. His mouth opened in a silent scream that lasted for only a few seconds as his body arched until the only things touching the table were his head and his heels. Then he slumped back with his eyes closed, and Ga’briyel knew he was dead. During this, the priest had a look on his face that spoke of ecstasy. He picked up the body and carried it to the steps of the temple where he dumped it as gently as if he were tossing slops to animals. Then he disappeared back inside the temple, and the vision faded. When he focused his gaze on the temple again, the man was no longer smiling. In fact, he was scowling, and Ga’briyel even heard him growl. His mouth moved, and Ga’briyel heard a voice drift toward him.

“Tonight, Anmah, I will kill you. You and your friends.”

Frowning, Ga’briyel spoke back, not loudly, but he knew the man heard him nonetheless. “You can try, priest, but you will not succeed.”

A laugh came across the distance between the two buildings, a laugh that chilled Ga’briyel to the bone. “You are young, Anmah. There are many, many ways I can kill you, and when I kill, it is forever. You will not come back.”

Without another word, the man spun around and disappeared into the temple. The slimy sensation went with him. Ga’briyel took a deep breath, shut the window, and turned to his friends.

“What was that all about?” Tero said, worry evident on his face.

“I think I just met Kardag,” Ga’briyel said as he moved back to his seat. “He said he was going to kill us tonight.”

“You talked to him? How is that possible?”

Ga’briyel just gave Tero a look as he sat that said he should not have to ask that question. The sensual heat he had been feeling from Sophyra had been completely replaced with prickly fear.

“It is not going to happen, Sophyra. I will protect you, I promise.”

“How, Ga’briyel? If what Eneith says is true, he can kill without leaving any evidence, and he makes people just disappear.”

He took her hand and rubbed his thumb along the back. “There is a lot you do not know about me. Believe me when I say that he cannot hurt me.” He looked at his men. “Dinton, Tero, watch yourselves and Sophyra tonight. He can hurt you.” He stood up and moved toward the door. He had almost reached it when Sophyra laid her hand on his arm. He looked down at her. “What is it?”

She dropped her eyes and whispered, “May I sleep in your room tonight?”

“Sophyra…”

“Please, Ga’briyel; I am scared.” She bit her lip and looked up at him. “Nothing has to happen. I just do not want to be alone.”

He sighed heavily. “All right, but stay with Dinton and Tero for right now. I need to go outside, and I do not want you with me. I will come and find you when I get back.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, and he wrapped one arm around her and pulled her close.

“I will not let anyone hurt you,” he said. “I promise.”

She looked up at him with a shaky smile, and he placed a brief kiss on her lips before releasing her and leaving the room. He went through the empty front room and out the door. His boots crunched on the gravel of the path, and he stopped in front of the temple. He studied the symbol of the raven on the door, and he repressed a shudder as he thought of the birds that had come after the slaughter of his people.

Ravens were considered evil birds by everyone he knew. They fed on the flesh of the dead, and their calls caused shivers to run down a man’s spine. It was said by some priests of Yisu in Torkeln that if a raven was present at a funeral, it meant that the person’s soul belonged to Sayatan. Ga’briyel did not know if he believed that, but he did know that he hated ravens with every fiber of his being, and he wondered what kind of deity would have that bird as its symbol.

As he stood there, the door creaked open, and he could see a dark hallway beyond it. He frowned as he let his eyes blaze, and he picked out carved ravens perched on head-high pillars along both sides of the hallway. He felt the oil cover him again, his stomach lurched, and he knew beyond doubt that he was in the presence of pure evil. The message from the Debaduta filled his mind, and he wondered if Kardag could be a Daitya become flesh.

Though he did not want to, he knew he had to find out, so he drew his sword and took two steps into the temple. That was as far as he got before the door slammed shut behind him with an echoing boom. The air in the hallway was fetid and rank, like a midden heap in the middle of a summer heat wave. Ga’briyel somehow managed not to gag, and he had taken another step when a voice that was as oily and rotten as the sensation and odor that surrounded him rang out.