All Things Begin - The Anmah Series Book 1

As they exited the house, Ga’briyel was stunned to see that the townspeople had set up what looked like a feast in the square. He caught the glares of a few of the older boys, but he ignored them as he looked for Sophyra. She was on the opposite side of the square, and her determined attempt to not look at him was as obvious as if she had turned her back and stormed away. He could feel the whip strokes of her disapproval despite the fifty paces that separated them. She steadfastly kept her gaze as far from him as possible as she helped the women place platters and bowls on the tables that had suddenly appeared. He kept in another sigh and let himself be led to what looked like the head table by a girl of about fifteen. For the next two hours, he ate what turned out to be delicious food, accepted the thanks of most of the people of Grama, and tried to keep from staring across the square at Sophyra where she steadfastly refused to have anything to do with him. Self-disgust filled him for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Sophyra had been right. He was what he was, and no amount of complaining or wishing it were different would change anything, and he definitely should not have yelled at her. An elbow to his ribs brought his attention back to the goings-on around him.

“You are not listening to a thing I am saying, are you?”

He slowly turned his head and looked at Dinton. His friend was smiling, but the slithering worry surrounded Ga’briyel again. Abruptly, the need for space overwhelmed him, and he stood up and shoved his chair backward. The square became almost silent, and he looked around at the people who stared at him as if they expected him to speak. His eyes landed on Sophyra, and this time, he caught her gaze. She was still angry, but it was the pain and hurt in her eyes that cut him to the core, and he whirled and stormed out of the square without a word to anyone. Dinton called out after him, but he kept walking even when he heard footsteps running behind him. By that time, he had almost made it to the main gate of the town. He looked down at the ground as he continued walking, but he still saw Mathi out of the corner of his eye.

“Captain Mistri? May I ask you a question, sir?”

Ga’briyel shrugged silently.

The boy walked beside him, matching stride for stride. “What does it feel like to die? Were you afraid when it happened to you?”

The Anmah shuddered. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I was afraid when I thought I was going to die, both when you saved me by the river and again in the clearing when those men killed Sophyra. Does that make me a coward?” He frowned deeply. “I do not want to be a coward.”

Ga’briyel put his hand on the boy’s shoulder as they passed the watch towers and started up the valley’s slope. “No, Mathi. Most people are afraid to die. It does not mean you are a coward.”

“Are you afraid to die?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Even though you will live again?”

“Yes. I am not afraid of death, but dying can be very painful, and I do not want to experience that kind of pain again.”

The boy thought about that. “Why did you leave the feast, sir?”

Ga’briyel frowned. “I needed some time alone.”

“Oh,” Mathi said, stopping in his tracks. “I did not mean to bother you. I will go.”

“You are not bothering me, Mathi. I just need some time to think.” Ga’briyel looked at the boy and frowned deeper when he saw who was walking toward them. “Go back to the feast. I will be back later.”

“Yes, sir.” Mathi turned back toward the town and hesitated as Sophyra passed him. She whispered something to the boy and then continued walking. Mathi stared at her for a moment and then continued toward the town. Before she could reach him, Ga’briyel spun toward the rim of the valley and finished climbing the slope before seating himself, facing the town, at the base of a gacha tree at the edge of the forest with his back against the trunk. He pulled out his sword and laid it across his lap before running his fingers lightly over the eagles on the blade. When Sophyra stopped in front of him, he kept his eyes on the sword.

“I do not want to talk right now,” he muttered when he knew she could hear him.

“You do not have to,” she answered, settling herself on the ground in front of him. “Just listen.”

He grimaced. “I do not want to listen, either, Sophyra. Please just leave me alone.”

“Why? So you can pout out here?”

That angered him, and he lifted his eyes to glare at her. “I am not pouting. I simply want to think. By myself. Is that too much to ask for?”

He felt that she was wounded by his words, but she stayed on her knees. “Right now, yes. Right now, you are going to listen to me.”

Scowling, he sheathed his sword and stared at her, his eyes blazing.

“I thought about what you said, and you are right,” she said. “I have no right to judge you. I do not know what you are going through, what you have already gone through. But I do know two things for fact.”

“What is that?”

“I love you, and what happened to me was not your fault. You did what you thought was best, and that is all anyone can be expected to do.”

Ga’briyel shook his head emphatically. “It was my fault! I left you alone with no one but a scared boy to help you. I abandoned you!”

“No, you did not.” She tried to cup his cheek, but he jerked his head away from her touch. He felt that action pierce her like a dagger, but she just folded her hands in her lap. “Ga’briyel, please stop blaming yourself. I do not blame you, and I know that Dinton and Tero and Mathi do not either.”

He stood up. “And you are all wrong. Now please, leave me alone.”

“Alone to wallow in your misery? Alone to bury yourself in misplaced guilt? No. You will have to force me to go,” she said as she also stood.

His fingers itched to draw a blade and do just that, but he forced them into a fist instead. “Do not tempt me, Sophyra! Go away!”

“No! Ga’briyel, I love you, and I will not let you destroy yourself with this foolish blame. The only ones to blame for what happened are the two Asabya who killed me, and you killed them, so that is over! Let it be!”

At that instant, a woman’s scream sounded from Grama, and Ga’briyel’s eyes snapped to the town. More screams followed the first, and he gave Sophyra one last snarl and bolted toward the main gate as he drew his sword and a dagger. He could hear her footsteps behind him, running almost as fast as he was, but he paid them no mind. When he reached the first watch towers he was suddenly driven to his knees by the revulsion and nausea that assailed him. His stomach emptied itself of the feast as the oiliness of a Daitya covered him, but it was considerably worse than what he had felt around Kardag. He dreaded what that meant. Sophyra dropped to her knees next to him as he spat and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Ga’briyel, What is wrong?”

He brought his head up and grabbed her arms with both hands, even though he still held his blades in them. His eyes shone like torches with the conviction of his next words.

“My heart, please stay here! He can kill you!”

“Who?”

“The Daitya in the town! Please, Sophyra! Stay in the watch tower and do not come out.” She nodded, eyes and mouth wide, and he pulled her to himself in a strong hug. “I love you, Sophyra. No matter what I say or do, never forget that. Now go. Lock yourself in and do not open the door for anyone but me. Promise me!”

“I promise,” she whispered and then disappeared inside the tower.

Ga’briyel raced into the town and headed toward the square. As he entered the town, he almost ran over the young girl who had served him at the feast. He skidded to a halt in front of her.

“What is happening?” he demanded.

She sobbed out, “Dahaka came back with his raiding party. They came from the east. They saw the bodies! They started killing everyone!”

“Bride of a troll!” Ga’briyel muttered as he ran to the center of town. What he saw when he reached it almost caused him to vomit again.

Bodies and body parts were strewn across the tables and the ground. Blood was everywhere he looked, but none of that was what made him sick. Hanging two paces above the ground, their arms behind their backs and their faces contorted with pain, were Dinton, Tero, and Mathi. Ga’briyel could see nothing holding them there, but the sickening feel of a Daitya rolled over him again, and he scanned the crowd of women and children and slaves who were staring at the three wide-eyed. Their fear mingled with the slime, and he had to force his bile down.

Seven men stood in a rough semicircle not far from his friends, and Ga’briyel pushed his way through the crowd toward them. He approached them from the right, just behind the last man. As he got closer, he heard the voice of pure evil. It grated on his brain like a file on steel, chipping away at it bit by bit.

“Sayatan, m’be io mion sen kinprenn! Se yi kim yin saves ifrenn bato! Pren nem yi ek davira yi pio latanota! Be yi diola! Be yi siofro! Mintra yi kinsakens yi nen dafya io!”

Sayatan, I give you these fools as a sacrifice! Take their souls and devour them for eternity! Give them pain! Give them suffering! Show them the consequences of defying you!

Ga’briyel wasted no time in moving behind the first Asabya, his face still painted from the raid. Silently except for the gasps of the citizens and slaves around him, he drove his sword through the man’s body from behind, and in almost the same motion, threw his dagger at the man in the center of the square.

The blade buried itself in his back exactly where his heart was—or should have been. He only grunted, however, and turned from his three captives, which is what Ga’briyel was hoping for. The man reached behind himself and yanked the dagger out. When he held it in front of himself, it was covered from tip to hilt in the black blood of a Daitya.

“Let them go, Hellspawn! I am the one you want, not them! I killed your men! Each and every one of them!”

A growl came from the six remaining Asabya, but the Daitya laughed. “By yourself? I highly doubt that. Even an Anmah cannot achieve that feat alone.”

Ga’briyel spun his sword and moved so that none of the men could creep up behind him.

“And yet it is so.” That was not the whole truth; Dinton and Tero had killed four each, but lying to a servant of Sayatan could not be wrong. “And I will kill you all as well.”

The Daitya laughed again, and the sound made the townspeople flee. “You have no idea what I am, boy. You think you cannot die? I can kill you, and I will after I kill your friends.” He looked to the other men. “He is mine! You will not touch him!”

“Yes, Dahaka,” the men answered immediately, but they kept their eyes on Ga’briyel and their hands on the hilts of their swords.

The Anmah slowly moved toward the Daitya, not willing to trust the Asabya to keep their word. His gaze flickered between the spirit and the men, trying to keep them all in sight.

“Do not worry, Anmah, they will not disobey me. I run this town, and they all know the penalty for rebellion.”

“Dahaka? Interesting that you Daitya take human names.” The spirit’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, yes, I know what you are. I have already faced one of you and won. I have no idea what happened to him after I cut off his head, but I have been told that he is gone forever.”

“You lie!” Dahaka snarled. “No Daitya could be overcome by an Anmah as young as you! What was his name?”

“Kardag. He was in a little village called Difeld. I not only sent him to oblivion, I also destroyed his temple.” Ga’briyel shrugged as he set his stance. “And now I will kill you. One less Daitya in the world.”

With another snarl, Dahaka drew his curved sword. Ga’briyel recognized the black blade, and he grinned.

“Cursed by Sayatan himself, right? Able to kill me quickly with agonizing pain? Sorry, already happened.”

Dahaka’s glare turned into an appraising look. “Perhaps you speak truly, Anmah, but it does not matter. I will still kill you.”

“Tell you what,” Ga’briyel said lightly. “Let my friends go first, and I will kill you horesons quickly. Leave them hanging there, and it will be slow and painful. Not for you, of course, but for them.” He jerked his head toward the six men still fingering their sheathed swords.

Dahaka nodded slowly. “You are Sainika, yes?”

Ga’briyel returned the nod.

“Well, there may be one less Daitya after we are finished, Sainika, but do not count on it,” Dahaka growled, “However, there are thousands of us and only one of you.”

“One of me is all that is needed.”

As the Daitya and Anmah slowly circled each other, Ga’briyel saw his friends’ weapons in a pile on one of the tables. “Release them, Daitya, or your men will suffer for it.”

“My men?” Dahaka laughed. “I do not care what happens to them. Just know that after I kill you, my men will make sure you never wake up again. Then I will take the souls of these three and give them to Sayatan! Perhaps I will let you live long enough to see it!”

With the speed of a viper, Dahaka struck at Ga’briyel with an overhand swing that effortlessly changed in midstrike to one aimed at his ribs. The Anmah stepped fluidly backward and used his own blade to force the Daitya to continue his swing while at the same time, dropping low and slashing Dahaka across the thigh. Black blood bubbled from the wound, but it did not slow him down in the least.

“Tell me, boy,” the Daitya said conversationally as blade met blade and blades attempted to meet flesh, “how old were you when you became Sainika? You cannot be much over twenty now, so what has it been? Three years? Five?”

“Fifteen,” Ga’briyel answered, scoring another hit on the Daitya’s sword arm. “And no one has ever beaten me in the past six.” Despite his calm words, he knew that if that black blade cut him, he would still be poisoned, and the Daitya and his men would kill him, his friends, and quite possibly everyone in the town, so he made sure to evade the Daitya’s strikes while looking for an opportunity for the killing blow that would take off his head.

Then he knew.

When the Daitya struck again, Ga’briyel caught the edge of the blade on the flat of his sword, but he staggered backward toward his friends’ weapons. He dropped the tip of his own sword down toward the ground, and Dahaka grinned.

“Getting tired, Sainika? Too bad. I guess Sayatan will rule this world after all.”

Just as Ga’briyel had known, Dahaka’s pride and arrogance got the better of him, and when the Daitya raised his sword to deliver the cut that would take Ga’briyel out of the fight, the Anmah ducked to his left and slashed at the Daitya’s legs, severing the right one at the knee with a single strike. Dahaka screamed and fell to the ground, dropping his sword. Ga’briyel stood up straight, glanced once at the six Asabya who had all drawn their swords and were moving toward him, and smoothly separated Dahaka’s head from his shoulders.

The instant that was done, Ga’briyel heard groans and thuds from behind him where his friends had been hanging. He assumed they were released, but he had six angry, blade-wielding men to worry about, and he was tired. It took longer to kill a Daitya than a normal man. The slimy feeling had disappeared as if it had never been, however, and that gave Ga’briyel a boost of energy. Hopefully these six would show the same arrogance as their leader had and would go down much easier and faster.

“Who’s next?” he taunted, and one of the men rushed him with a roar. With barely a thought, Ga’briyel sidestepped the wild swing and ran his sword through the Asabya’s belly. At that moment, Dahaka’s body crumbled into ash, the screech that the Anmah remembered from Difeld sounded, and a black cloud lifted from the ash to dissipate in the air.

The other five men looked stunned for half a second, but then they charged him as one. They were no more adept at staying alive than the first, however, and within a few minutes, they were all on the ground, their blood mixing with the blood of the slain townspeople and the gray ash that was all that was left from the black blood of the Daitya.

Ga’briyel had just turned toward his friends when he felt something hit him in the back. He instantly knew what it was as he fell to his knees, agony racing through his body.

“Son of a goat!” he groaned as he looked down at his chest and saw the unmistakable point of an arrow sticking out of him. Whoever had shot it had been good, and had struck him cleanly through the heart. He felt the blood pumping out of the holes in him as he crumpled, his sword clattering on the cobblestones. “Find the horeson who shot me, Dinton,” he gasped. “Do not kill him, though. I want to—“ That was as far as he got before he pitched forward onto his face, dead.

Dinton barely heard him, and he could not have followed his leader’s command even had he wanted to try. The position that the Daitya had forced his body into had dislocated both his shoulders, and he was groaning in pain on the ground. Tero had a broken leg from dropping to the ground from a height of two paces onto legs numbed from being tightly bound by nothing but air, but he managed to pull his bow from the pile of weapons and nock an arrow before forcing himself to stand, leaning heavily on Mathi who seemed to be completely unhurt. In fact, the boy had his own injuries, but he forced himself to disregard them for now.

“Do you see him, Mathi?” Tero asked, his eyes scanning the rooftops.

“No, sir, but the arrow hit Captain Mistri from behind, so the shooter must have been somewhere around there.” The boy pointed.

“Well,” Tero said, lowering his bow and dropping onto a bench, “it had to be one of those boys from earlier. We will find him, and Ga’briyel will deal with him.”

Mathi knelt beside Ga’briyel. “Will he really live again Captain Rabina?”

“He will, but not until first light.” Tero looked at the sky. “That is a long time from now, Mathi, and we have to keep him safe until then. Go and find Sophyra. She can help us. I will watch over him and Dinton until you get back.”

The boy nodded and ran through the streets of the town, but no one had seen Sophyra. He checked every house and asked everyone he saw, but she was nowhere to be found. He went back to the square and told Tero as much.

“Well,” Tero grunted as he stood, “hopefully Ga’briyel has her somewhere safe. I sure do not want to be the one to tell him she is dead when he wakes. Although, I suppose she would wake as well now.” He shrugged. “We must get these two out of the square. Ga’briyel may return from the dead, but none of the rest of us will.”

“We will help, Captain. Just tell us what to do.”

Tero turned his head and was surprised to see several women at the edge of the square. Nikale stood in front of them all, and it was she who had spoken.

“Can you carry these two to beds? Preferably in the same house. Mathi can help me.”

“Of course, Captain,” Nikale said, and then she gestured to the women.

It took four of them to carry each of the men to the nearest house, the two-story gray stone building Ga’briyel had seen from the valley’s rim the day before. They hauled Ga’briyel up without ceremony, but they were careful with Dinton. Even so, the latter was nearly crying in pain when they finally laid him on a bed in a cozy room on the second floor. Ga’briyel was lying on his side on the floor of the room. The women had been aware enough to lay down an old canvas cloth so as to not completely soak the floorboards with his blood.

“Help me to him, Mathi,” Tero said. “I have to take the arrow out.”

“No, Captain, you have to sit over there,” Nikale said, pointing to a chair by the door. “I will get the arrow. You stay off that leg. I will see to it when I take care of these two.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tero said with a grin, and Mathi led him to the chair before settling himself on the floor next to it with a groan. “Are you all right, Mathi?” Tero put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Nothing that cannot wait, sir,” the boy said softly. “Let Nikale take care of you three first.”

“Not a chance. You will be fixed up before me. This leg is not going to fall off before she gets to it.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said, and then the two watched the old woman as she broke the arrowhead off and pulled the wood out of Ga’briyel from the back. Blood flowed from the wounds, and the Anmah’s skin paled rapidly as the crimson fluid soaked the canvas and left him as white as new-fallen snow.

When no more blood ran from the body, Nikale called the women over, and they held him up as the old woman stripped his clothing from him and cleaned him off. Without even a single blush, the women then picked up Ga’briyel’s naked body and laid it on the second bed in the room before pulling up the cover to his shoulders.

“Is there anything else I need to do for him?” Nikale asked as the women carried out the drenched clothing and canvas.

“No,” Tero answered. “He will heal overnight and wake up at first light.”

“I take it this was his first death by arrow,” she said as she moved to Dinton’s bed.

“Yes.”

“How many is this for him? I cannot imagine it is more than two or three considering how young he is.”

Tero chuckled, and Nikale glanced at him, her eyebrows rising.

“It is number fourteen.”

The brows froze on their way to her hairline and dipped down instead. “Fourteen? How old is he?”

“Twenty-one.”

“No, not how old was he when he first died. How old is he now? When was he born?”

“He is twenty-one. He first died when he was six. On his way to Torkeln, he died twelve times. The thirteenth was two sennights ago.”

“Holy Yisu!” the old woman breathed.

“Exactly.”

Silence fell on the room except for Dinton’s cries when Nikale and Mathi restored his shoulders to their proper positions. She folded his arms across his chest and bound them in place with rags. Then she got water from a pitcher on the table and poured it into a cup. Taking something from a pouch on her waist, she dissolved it in the water before forcing Dinton to drink it. From the grimace on his face, it was not pleasant tasting, but it apparently did what she wanted, for within minutes, he was fast asleep.

“Now you, Captain,” she said, kneeling in front of Tero.

“No. The boy first. He is hurting.”

Nikale frowned. “Is that true, boy? Why did you not say something?”

Mathi looked at the floor. “The captains are hurt more than I am. They should be seen to first.”

“Nonsense, Mathi,” Tero said sternly, and the boy cringed. Tero moderated his tone. “I am sorry for snapping, but I am fine. Let Nikale help you first, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

The old woman asked the boy what hurt, and when he said his stomach, she deftly ran her fingers over his chest and abdomen before doing the same to his back.

“I think it may just be pulled or torn muscles,” she said when she was finished. “I do not feel any broken bones, and the fact that you were able to help Captain Ribana and me says that you are probably not bleeding inside. However, I want you to go to the room next door and lay down. I will be there in a little bit to give you something to help you sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mathi said and left the room.

Nikale again knelt in front of Tero. “You need to take your breeches off, Captain,” she said.

Tero growled but did as she said. When they were off and he was seated in only his smallclothes, she busied herself with applying splints to his lower right leg after putting the bones back where they belonged. Tero managed to get through it with only a loud groan.

As he leaned on Nikale while she helped him to the room Mathi was in, he asked, “Whose house is this anyway?”

“It was Dahaka’s,” she said with a grin. “Now I suppose it is Captain Mistri’s.”

“Did he have family? I am sure Ga’briyel would not want to kick anyone out of their home.”

“No, no family, and I always wondered about that. Now it makes sense since he was a Daitya. I cannot imagine any woman living with that. Can they even create children, I wonder?”

“I have no idea,” Tero said as she helped him into the bed next to Mathi’s, “but I sincerely hope not.”

“I as well,” she said as she mixed more of the drink that put Dinton to sleep. “Drink this, both of you. It should help you sleep until tomorrow.”

They obeyed her, and when they had both fallen asleep, Nikale left the room. She walked down the stairs and whispered something to the woman at the door. The latter nodded and hurried out of the house. Nikale returned to Ga’briyel and pulled the chair by the door close to his bedside.

“We have a lot to talk about, Captain,” she said softly and settled down to wait for first light.