All Things Begin - The Anmah Series Book 1

Ga’briyel opened his eyes at first light, and the first thing he noticed was Sophyra curled up next to him under the woolen blanket, her head on his chest. The second was Nikale asleep in a chair with her head on his bed. His arm was underneath Sophyra, and he squeezed her gently before kissing her forehead. She said something he did not understand, but she continued sleeping as he slid his arm out and sat up. Neither woman stirred as he slipped out of bed. Someone had brought his saddlebags to the room, and he looked around as he dressed.

It was quite a nice room. Two four-poster beds made from gacha wood stood a good distance from each other, and they both had colorful woolen blankets on them. The posts were carved with exceptional skill; complicated patterns and symbols circled them from top to bottom. A white canopy was stretched between the posts on each bed. A window between the beds was covered by a white curtain. Dinton lay in the bed that was not occupied by his heart, and Ga’briyel frowned when he saw his friend’s arms strapped to his chest.

Next to the door was a chest of drawers with similar carvings as the bedposts. A crystal pitcher that actually had steam coming from the spout and a matching basin sat on top. Next to these were soap and a comb. He quietly filled the basin and washed his face and hands before running the comb through his hair. Someone had cleaned him the day before, for when he had collapsed onto the cobblestones, he had already been covered with his own blood and that of the Asabya. He was sure it had only gotten worse when they pulled the arrow from his body considering the path it had taken.

He stuffed his feet into his boots, noticing that they had been polished recently, and walked to the window. He pulled the curtain aside and was surprised to see that the room was not on the ground floor. From the window, he was able to see down into the square. In the gray of first light, he noticed that the cobblestones were cleaned of blood, and there were no bodies to be seen. The window faced the west, so he could not see the pile of bodies outside the town, but he knew it had to have gotten higher after the slaughter of the day before. He wondered how many innocents had died because he had not stayed at the feast. He let the curtain fall across the window again, and then he knelt beside the bed.

“I am sorry, my heart,” he whispered, laying his forehead against Sophyra’s shoulder. He stood and was about to leave the room when she gripped his sleeve. He looked down at her, his eyes pained.

“Do not go,” she said softly, scooting over in the bed. “Come back to bed. Please?”

He was torn with indecision. A large part of him wanted to curl up in her arms and forget everything that had happened the last few days, but another very persistent part felt like he did not deserve her comfort, that he deserved to suffer for what he had done and had let happen.

“Ga’briyel, please. Lie with me.”

He hesitated and thought to use Dinton and Nikale as an excuse to leave, but she tugged on his sleeve, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to Sophyra. After a moment, he pulled his boots off and slid under the covers, but he stayed on his back. Sophyra moved so that she could drape one arm and one leg over him, resting her head on his chest again. His hands moved without thought, and he held her tightly to himself.

“I forgive you, my love,” she whispered, slipping her hand underneath his shirt and tracing circles on his chest. “Now you must forgive yourself.”

He turned onto his side and trapped her leg between his. Raising himself up on one elbow, he stared at her, and his heart felt like it would burst with the love that filled him. It was a combination of his love for her and hers for him, and he ran one finger along her temple and down her jawbone until he reached her chin. Holding her still, he kissed her softly, letting all the love within him come through. Her hand beneath his shirt moved to his back, and she returned the kiss. He rolled her onto her back and stretched out over her, his hands moving down her body. Only when Nikale mumbled something in her sleep did he remember they were not alone. He broke the kiss and buried his face in the pillow next to her head with a low groan. Sophyra giggled softly, but Ga’briyel slid out of bed again and pulled her with him.

“Ga’briyel, what are you doing?” she asked as he tugged her toward the door.

“This is a big house,” he answered, looking out into the hallway before stepping out and walking away from the stairs, gripping her hand tightly. “I am sure we can find an empty room.”

“Ga’briyel!” she admonished. “I am still in my nightdress!”

“I do not care,” he said, opening a door across the hall. He grinned as he pulled her inside the room. It was a small library, and there was a reading couch in the middle of the room. There was a lock on the door, so he secured it before picking up Sophyra and kissing her again. She wrapped her legs around his waist as her nightdress rode up to her thighs, and Ga’briyel walked to the couch. Laying her down, he stood and took off his shirt.

By the time he peeked out the door to see if it was safe for Sophyra to go back to the other room, he could hear the typical noises of a large house coming from the first floor. Commands and brief shouts filtered up the stairs, and the smells of first meal reminded him of how hungry dying always made him.

“It is clear,” he whispered, and Sophyra laughed behind him.

He turned and grinned at her before taking her hand and hurrying back to the room he had woken up in. The door opened, and he guided her inside.

“Thank Yisu you are here!” Dinton voice caused Sophyra to jump behind Ga’briyel with a yelp. “I am completely helpless, Ga’briyel, and I have to—Oh, I am sorry, Sophyra, I did not mean to embarrass you.”

“You did not embarrass me, Dinton,” she said, breathing hard. “You just surprised me. I was not expecting you to be awake.”

“Of course I am awake! I have to…Ga’briyel, will you please just help me? Nikale says I have to keep my arms strapped down for at least a sennight! And I cannot do anything more than feed and dress myself for at least two moons after that! Two moons, Mistri! What am I supposed to do?”

Ga’briyel tried to keep the smile from his face but failed, and Dinton growled, “Snakes and trolls! You had better not laugh at me!”

“I am not laughing,” Ga’briyel said as he gave Sophyra’s hand a squeeze and then let go to walk to Dinton’s bed. “But I really, really want to.” He helped his friend stand and led him to the door. “You can get dressed, my heart. This might take a while.”

Sophyra hid her own grin behind her hand, but when the two men walked out into the hallway, they heard her laugh just before the door closed.

“It is not funny, Mistri,” Dinton grumbled. “I am in agony and you two are laughing about it.”

“No, it is not funny,” Ga’briyel said seriously. “I am sorry you are hurt, my friend. Truly I am.”

“Not that kind of agony, you fool! Whatever Nikale gave me this morning took away the pain, but you or Tero are going to have to help me with everything for a sennight! And I am going to be trapped in this town while the rest of you go do Yisu knows what. How in His name am I going to find you afterward?”

At that moment, the next door down the hall opened, and Tero hobbled out leaning on a rough, wooden crutch.

“Do not worry, Dinton,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “I am not going anywhere either. Nikale says it will take close to two moons for my leg to heal. So, unless Captain Mistri decides to leave without both of us, it looks like we are all stuck here for at least that long.” Then Tero grinned. “But at least I can take care of my needs without help.”

“Ha, ha!” Dinton said with a frown, but then he grinned, too. “Well, Ga’briyel, it looks like it is just you and me for the next sennight. Tero’s not going to be able to help with that leg.”

“Wonderful,” Ga’briyel said grimly as he helped his friend down the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard Tero’s crutch hit the first stair. “Are you sure you can get down, old man? I would hate for you to break your neck as well as your leg.”

“I am fine, boy, but thank you for your concern. I am sure it was given with the utmost sincerity.”

“Oh, most definitely,” Ga’briyel said. “The utmost. I could not be more sincere right now.” The chuckle that escaped him ruined his attempt at seriousness.

“Laugh all you want,” Tero said as they reached the ground floor, “but you get to help Dinton while I get to go eat. I will try to save you two some food.”

Ga’briyel growled at that, for he was starving. The combination of dying and his time with Sophyra had his stomach twisting as it tried to digest itself. His good mood returned, however, when Mathi rushed up to them.

“Please, Captain Mistri, let me help Captain Sikara.”

Dinton did not need help walking, so Ga’briyel nodded. “If you wish to, Mathi, I will not stop you, but are you sure?”

“Oh, yes, sir! It will be a way for me to start to pay back what you all have done for me.”

“Do you mind, Dinton?”

“Not at all,” Dinton replied. “That way I will not have to listen to your jokes and insults all the time.” He said this with a grin, and Ga’briyel was about to slap him on the shoulder when someone grabbed his sleeve.

“Captain Mistri!”

He looked down and saw Nikale. The diminutive woman was glowering at him.

“I just fixed those shoulders, and I will not have you undoing my work.”

Ga’briyel’s eyes widened at the sternness in her words. “You are right, Nikale. I apologize. Dinton, are you sure you are all right?”

“I will be fine. At least you saved our lives.” At Ga’briyel’s furrowed brow, Dinton continued, “We could not move, but we watched everything you did. Is that thing what you fought at Difeld?”

“One like him, yes.”

“Well, thank you. He was about to kill us when you showed up.”

“He was going to do more than that. He was going to claim your souls for Sayatan.”

Dinton and Tero both frowned even as Mathi and Nikale gasped.

“How do you know that, Ga’briyel?” Tero asked.

“Because I understood what he was saying. That seems to be another lovely ability of mine—being able to understand the language of evil.”

Nikale looked as if she were going to say something, but instead, she pointed to an open door. “First meal is ready. Enjoy your spoils, Captain Mistri.”

“What do you mean?”

The old woman gestured around the room. “This was all Dahaka’s. Now it is yours as the one who defeated him.” She turned to walk out the front door but stopped with her hand on the handle. “And thank you, Captain. Dahaka was the worst of them all, and now I know why. Would you be amenable to talking later on?”

“Of course, but right now I need to eat before I faint.”

She smiled and left the house.

“Come on, Tero, I am starving.”

The two men were seated at the table, laughing and discussing what they would do for the next two moons when Sophyra walked in. She was dressed in a violet gown that matched her eyes, and her blonde hair flowed around her bare shoulders. Ga’briyel stood up and held out his hand to her, and his eyes flared briefly. She smiled and walked to him. As much as he wanted to kiss her, he contented himself with seating her next to him. They had talked at length in the library, and Ga’briyel had finally admitted that everything had turned out for the best, regardless of the mistakes he had made, so now, they talked of other things. Ga’briyel was incapable of keeping his hands to himself, however, and he took every opportunity to touch Sophyra—a squeeze of her hand, a finger tracing her arm, his hand on her thigh under the table.

Dinton and Mathi joined them within minutes of Sophyra’s appearance, and by the time the platters and pitchers and plates were scraped clean, it was decided that Dinton and Tero would help Nikale and the people of Grama set up a workable government, and Ga’briyel would teach Sophyra, Mathi, and any interested townspeople how to fight so that they would not be vulnerable to another attack. On top of that, it was now up to Ga’briyel to take care of any returning raiding parties since no one else was healthy enough or skilled enough to help him.

First, however, Ga’briyel wanted to talk to Nikale. There were many things he needed to understand about the Asabya before he made any more decisions. After eating, he told Sophyra and Mathi to ask around to see who wanted to learn to fight and to meet him in the square an hour before the midday meal. Then he went looking for the old woman. He found her in her home where she was crushing dried leaves into powder using a stone mortar and pestle. She glanced up and smiled when he knocked on her open front door before gesturing with a nod toward an empty chair next to the table she was working on. He walked in, adjusted his sword, and sat down silently. Nothing was said until she was finished with whatever herb she was working with. After she put the powder into one of her many bags, she poured what smelled like tea into two cups and handed him one. Then she pulled a second chair close and sat, sipping her drink. He sniffed his and almost smiled when the aroma of mint filled his brain.

“I love mint tea,” he said softly as he took a sip. “Thank you. It reminds me of home.”

“You are welcome. Mint is good for calming nerves. You seemed a little stressed.” Nikale smiled into her own cup and looked at him over the rim.

“Just a bit,” he acknowledged. “It is been a stressful couple of days.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Tell me about yourself, Ga’briyel Mistri.”

He stared back and thought about whether to answer her, but eventually, he felt the urge to tell her everything, so he did. He talked about his first family, about his brother, Alabart, who had teased him mercilessly until his father caught him and forced him to apologize, only to have it happen again the next day and the next. He told her how his older sisters had loved to play with him as if he were their personal doll, and how embarrassed he would get when they babied him. His eyes filled with tears when he talked about his baby sister, Emili, and how much he had loved her. From the day she was able to walk, she had been his constant companion. Even when his friends had told him to send her away, he never had. He spoke of his parents and how his father governed their tiny village with wisdom and honor and respect for all. He spoke of his mother’s kindness and compassion and willingness to help anyone in any way. The tears fell down his cheeks when he told her of his sixth naming-day, of when he awoke and discovered everyone dead, of finding his baby sister crushed beneath the table, of seeing his father’s head so far from his body, of seeing his brother’s bowels scattered on the ground around him, and of finding his older sisters and mother naked and ravished, although he had not understood at the time that is what had happened. He had only figured that out when he got older. His tears dried up as he told the old woman about the three deaths that had occurred before he left Dasa and the nine that happened as he made his way to Torkeln. He smiled when he spoke of his second parents who loved him as much as his first. He talked about Ma’ikel and how he had tried to prepare him for the life of an Anmah but could not possibly have prepared him for the life of a Sainika. His eyes lit up with pride as he mentioned Jarda Mistri’s undeniable courage and morality. They blazed brighter as he spoke of his mother’s love for her adopted son and her reluctant acceptance of his decision to leave Torkeln. Then he told Nikale what had happened from the time they had crossed the mountains to the decision to invade Grama. When he was finished, he was surprised to see that his tea was gone, and the shadows in the room had shifted significantly.

“Have you thought about returning to Desa?”

His head snapped up from where he had been studying his empty cup. “No. There is nothing left for me there. It is no longer my home, and I have no desire to see it again.”

“It might help,” Nikale said.

“Help with what? It would be nothing but painful, and I have had enough pain. I do not want to invite more.”

“Help with your guilt. You say you can feel emotions and read people, but I can read you. Not in the same way, of course, but I know you feel guilty about what happened at your village, and you feel guilty that you survived.”

“No, I do not. It is Yisu’s will that I am Anmah. It is His will that I am Sainika. I do not understand why, but it is His will. If it is guilt you see, it is for what has happened in the last few days, not for what happened fifteen years ago.”

“And what has happened in the last few days that you have to feel guilty about?”

He put his cup on the table and fingered his sword hilt. “I am a fighter, Nikale. For fifteen years, that is what I have trained to be. I found out a couple of sennights ago that I was created for the sole purpose of killing Daitya, that Yisu creates Sainika when Sayatan attempts to fill the world with his evil. But while I was here fighting mortal men, my heart was killed. I promised her I would never let anyone hurt her again, and I failed in that promise. I left her alone, and she was violated and brutalized and killed. And to make matters worse, I selfishly decided that I could not live without her. I had every intention of killing myself before I realized Yisu had made her Anmah to stop me from doing so. How can I not feel guilty? I am guilty of betraying my love and for being willing to sacrifice the world to assuage my pain. I am guilty of forcing Yisu to stop me from destroying the world. I am guilty of the deaths of the innocents here yesterday.”

“Nonsense!” Nikale spat out, but he merely looked at her impassively. “You did not kill Sophyra, nor did you allow it to happen. If she had come with you, she certainly would have died, and Mathi, too. The only ones guilty of the deaths yesterday are those horesons you killed.”

“If I had not left the feast, I could have stopped them before they killed anyone!”

“And if you could be everywhere at once, you could stop everyone in the world from dying. You are one person, Ga’briyel Mistri, and you cannot prevent every bad thing from happening, nor is it your responsibility to do so. Your responsibility is to save the world from Sayatan and his servants. You and only you can do that. The rest is in Yisu’s hands, and you have no right to take the blame for what happens when you are not around.”

A noise at the door caused them both to turn. Sophyra was standing there, her arms crossed over her chest.“She is right, Ga’briyel. That is what I tried to tell you before the feast yesterday.”

He grimaced because he knew they were both right, and he did not want to admit it. It would mean yet another failure on his part, so he simply said, “Why are you here, Sophyra?”

“It is an hour before midday,” she answered, but he could feel her displeasure so strongly that he thought he might actually see welts when he took off his shirt. “You have students waiting.”

“Do I?” he said, standing up slowly. “I suppose I had better get moving, then, Nikale. Thank you for the talk.”

“We have much more to discuss, Captain Mistri. And do not forget there are still at least four raiding parties out there. You had better be ready for them. You are the only one who can protect us now.”

“I know.” He took Sophyra’s arm. “Come on. Show me these students.”

As they walked to the square, he asked, “How much did you hear?”

“Not much,” she said, “but I do not understand why you are so willing to talk to a woman you just met and not to me.”

He stopped, startled. “What are you talking about?”

She turned to him, and her eyes were glistening. “You have been talking to Nikale for over two hours, Ga’briyel. I heard enough to know you told her about your life after Desa. You have not told me much at all.”

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. When he opened them, his eyes were blazing, and he pulled her into a hug. “I am sorry, Sophyra. I did not mean to hurt you. I will tell you anything you want to know tonight. I—“ He was going to say he promised, but he could not help but think how his last promise to her had turned out. “Tonight,” he repeated instead. “Now, let me see my class.”

He had expected five or perhaps ten people to be waiting for him, but when they reached the square, there were more than seventy. About three-quarters were women, and the other quarter were boys and men like Mathi, slaves who had not been allowed to learn to fight. They all ranged in age from about ten to a few women and men older than his parents.

“There is not enough room here,” he mumbled, looking around at the people staring at him, some with suspicion and others with expectation. From each and every one of them, however, even from the wary ones, he felt waves of warm air flow over him. He knew it for what it was--hope. They all hoped he would teach them to protect themselves. He could, but it would take a lot longer than two moons, and he knew he could not stay in Grama much past that time frame. He could teach them the basics, though, and if they practiced, they might be able to get better on their own. That was his hope.

A tiny woman, shorter than Sophyra, with long dark hair and the beginnings of wrinkles around her eyes stepped out of the crowd, craning her neck to look at him.

“Captain Mistri? My name is Sudena. I wanted to tell you how grateful I am that you are willing to help us. I have lived my entire life in fear, first of my father and then of my husband and sons. I am thirty-four years old, and for the only time in my memory, I am not afraid. You have freed me from that fear. Thank you.”

Her words burrowed their way beneath the guilt and shame that still surrounded him and pushed them back. One by one, women and men and boys and girls came to show their appreciation for what he had done and for what he had said he would do. With each expression of appreciation, the negative feelings that had suffocated him the last couple of days diminished a little more and a little more until he was fighting to keep a grin off his face. He had not felt so good in a long time, and when the thanks finally dwindled, he held up his hand.

“Thank you all for your kind words. You will never know how much I needed to hear them. Now, this square is not big enough for me to teach this many people at once, so I am going to divide you by age. I will teach each group for an hour each day until it is time for us to move on. Based on my companions’ injuries, that will be at least two moons and maybe longer. For this hour before midday meal, I will take all those under the age of fifteen years. An hour after the meal, I will take those between fifteen and twenty, and the hour after that anyone older than twenty. Know this, however. I will only teach those who truly wish to learn. If you are not serious about learning, you need to go home now.”

The people started moving, with almost two thirds disappearing into the streets surrounding the square. When everyone fifteen and older was gone, he was left with twelve young people—four girls and eight boys. He noticed black armbands on the boys, and he looked over at Sophyra who had seated herself on a bench in front of their new home.

“What are those for?” he asked, pointing to one.

“They designate them as slaves.”

His eyes blazed brightly as anger and frustration raced through him. He turned back to the boys. “Take them off. Now.”

They shrank back from him but did as he said, holding them out toward him.

“You are no longer slaves,” he said, calming his voice and dimming his eyes as he took the bands. “Everyone in Grama will be citizens now.” Tero, Dinton, Nikale, and he had immediately agreed on that point. “Sophyra, can you please get rid of these?” She took them from him and went inside the house. “Now, all of you come and sit in front of me,” he said, dropping to one knee on the cobblestones.They all looked at each other in confusion, but when he pointed to the ground, they sat.

“Have any of you ever had lessons before?”

As one, they shook their heads.

“There is one very important thing you need to remember. If you do not listen to me, you will probably get hurt or hurt someone else.”

One of the boys raised one finger and then dropped his hand into his lap and hung his head.

“Do you have a question, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy whispered.

“Never be afraid to ask me anything,” Ga’briyel said, “and look at me when you speak to me. What is your name?”

“Ujala, sir,” the boy said, raising his eyes.

“What is your question, Ujala?”

“I am confused, sir. You do not want us to hurt each other?”

“No. Why would I want that?”

“How else are we to learn how to fight, sir? Do we not have to hit each other to do that?”

“Not necessarily. I will teach you how to fight, but you can just practice with each other. You do not have to fight for real right away. Later, when you all get better, you can practice harder, but when we start, you will be almost gentle. There is no need for bruises and broken bones when you are learning.”

Ujala looked as if he did not understand, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Are there any other questions?” he asked, and the others stayed silent.

“All right then, stand up and pair up. Girls with girls and boys with boys.” He had never seen girls fight before, but he did not see why they could not learn just as well as boys could. When they each had a partner, he started showing them the very basics of hand-to-hand fighting, from how to make a proper fist to how to punch and strike without breaking your own hand or wrist. Sophyra was back by the time he spoke of that, and he felt her humor surround him like a swarm of colorful titali bugs, and he knew she was thinking about his assault on the trees without even opening his mind to her. He also taught the young ones how to block those same punches. He wished he had someone to spar with, but that would have to wait until his friends were better.

The hour went by quickly, and when Sudena stood at the edge of the square and said that the midday meal was ready, his students were sweating and breathing heavily, but they were all smiling. He was sure that most of them had not smiled in a very, very long time, and it was good to see.

“Before you go, remember that you may practice with each other, but if I find out anyone is hurting another, I will be very upset. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” they all said, and then he released them to clean up to eat.

“Stop laughing at me,” he said, grinning at Sophyra.

“I am not laughing,” she said, moving to him and placing her arm around his waist. “Not on the outside, anyway.”

He kissed the top of her head and then pulled her close. “Yes, I understand the irony,” he said as they walked into the house. “I will do my best not to break my hand again.”

“Well,” she answered, “maybe you just hit the tree the wrong way. I am sure if you had held your fist properly, you would have been fine.”

“No, I am pretty sure the tree still would have won. It does not bleed, after all.”

As they went up the stairs to wash up, Ga’briyel’s stomach growled and Sophyra laughed.

“What? Teaching is hard work.” He stepped up behind her as she washed her face at the basin and wrapped his arms around her. “Do not forget, my heart, you are in the next group. It would not do to upset the teacher before the lesson even begins.”

She turned in his arms and clasped her hands behind his neck. “I am glad you are in a good mood again, my love,” she said and raised up onto her toes to kiss him. “I have missed this Ga’briyel.”

He smiled but spoke seriously. “There are a lot of people to thank for my mood, Sophyra, and you are at the top of that list. I have treated you horribly, and yet you still love me. I do not deserve you.”

“Do not say that, Ga’briyel,” she said, her eyes flaring in irritation. “You are a good man, and you deserve for good things to happen.” Then she grinned. “And I happen to be a very good thing.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, and then he lifted her up with no effort on his part and kissed her thoroughly. Putting her down, he draped his arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the door. “But I am starving, so it is time to eat even though I can think of something else I would rather do more.”

She laughed again, her irritation gone as quickly as it had appeared, and they went to eat.

An hour later, Ga’briyel was back in the square giving a similar lesson to the second group of thirty students. They were all women except for Mathi and two others. Sophyra told him this was because male slaves rarely lived past the age of thirteen in Grama. Since thirteen-year-old Asabya were considered men, so were thirteen-year-old slaves, and one of the favorite spectacles of the Feast of Yud’dha was when the male slaves were herded into the clearing where Ga’briyel and his friends had placed the dead bodies. Once there, they were used as fodder while being subjected to torture and torment and death at the hands of their masters. Those lucky enough to survive two sennights of this were spared the horror for two years by law. Mathi had survived his first trip to the clearing when he was thirteen, but he had been scheduled to return this year. Ga’briyel had saved him from having to go through that again, and that helped bolster the Anmah’s mood more than anything except Sophyra’s forgiveness.

It was easier to teach this class since the students were older, but Ga’briyel had a hard time keeping his eyes from Sophyra. He took every opportunity to correct her form just to have an excuse to touch her, and he did not miss the looks several of the young ladies gave him, nor the titali bugs that enveloped him. Their humor was increased past that of Sophyra’s to the point of annoyance, however, and he spent the last half of the class forcing himself not to cringe or shrug his shoulders in an attempt to rid himself of it.

After he dismissed the other students, Sophyra stayed behind, and he took her by the arm and guided her into a tight alley between their house and the building next to it. It ended at a solid stone wall, and he pulled her to the very end and pinned her against it without touching her. Resting his arms on the wall above her head, he loomed over her.

“I cannot do this,” he breathed as he closed his eyes and drank in her scent.

“Cannot do what?” she asked as she reached up to tug on his shirt’s laces.

Her titali were still floating around and through him, but he let them in. “I cannot teach you.”

The titali were singed in the heat that hit him as her fingers froze on his chest. “Why not?”

He opened his eyes, and she gasped at the brightness of their fire. “Because every time I touch you I want to do so much more.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he closed it by covering it with one finger. “Do not talk,” he whispered. “Just kiss me.” He could feel her breath on his skin, but then she pushed against him. Uselessly, for he did not move at all, but he did frown.

“Ga’briyel,” she sighed as she gave up trying to move him, “you promised me you would teach me to fight. You are not going back on that promise, are you?”

“Of course not,” he answered, his frown deepening when he realized that was exactly what he was trying to do. “But this is killing me, Sophyra. I cannot stay away from you.”

“Then I will make sure to stay away from you until a more appropriate time than this. After all, you have one more class to teach today. I will see you when you are done with them.”

She raised herself up on her toes to give him a quick kiss, but he grabbed her and pressed her up against the wall, crushing his lips to hers. She tried to cry out, but he was relentless, and she had no chance against his strength, even though she attempted to push him away. When he finally broke the kiss, only to reach down and start to unlace the front of her dress, she exclaimed, “Ga’briyel! Stop!” She grabbed his hands without any effect. “What are you doing?”

“Shh, no talking.”

He managed to unlace her bodice slightly, but then the laces knotted, and he growled as he stepped back to have a better angle to loosen them. Sophyra took that opportunity to slap him across the face. Hard. Hard enough that his hands froze, and he blinked as one of them rose slowly to cover his cheek which was now reddened.

“What was that for?”

Sophyra pulled herself up to her full height, which still only brought her up to the middle of his chest, and scowled at him. “We are in an alley, Ga’briyel, in the middle of the day, and you are trying to undress me!”

“No, I am not,” he protested, but then his eyes fell on his other hand which was still entwined with her bodice lace. He pulled it back forcefully, almost tearing her dress in the process. “Holy Yisu!” he gasped. “What is wrong with me?” He backed away from her, grimacing as he thought of what he had just been about to do. “Sophyra, I do not know…” He could not finish, and he spun on his heel and stormed out of the alley. His skin itched with the desire to turn around and finish what he had started, but he forced himself to leave her.

The next class was excruciating. The urge to take Sophyra and secret her away for the next twenty-four hours was overwhelming, and the fact that she was confused and hurt and angry at him did not help. He knew she was in the house, on the second floor, watching him through the window. He somehow stopped himself from looking up at her as he fought his mind and body to teach the older students, who numbered in at thirty-four, the basics he had taught Sophyra and Mathi’s group. The hour dragged on for what seemed like days, and when he finally dismissed his students, he immediately walked west toward the entrance to the town without a word to anyone and definitely without a look back at the house. He stopped when Dinton stepped in front of him. He could have easily moved his friend out of the way, but he was afraid that if he touched him, he would hurt him. Badly.

“Let me go, Dinton.”

“Not until you explain why Sophyra is crying again.”

Ga’briyel had known she was, of course, for the sensations surrounding him and filling him seemed to be compounded a thousand times over. Her tears came from a combination of anger and hurt, and he needed to get away from them before he exploded.

“She is crying because of me! Because of what almost happened between us! Do not ask me to explain it, Dinton! I cannot! I do not know why it happened, and right now, if I do not get away from her, I am going to hurt her worse. Let me go. Please.”

His friend stared at him for a moment silently and then just as silently moved aside. Ga’briyel made his way out of the town quickly, and by the time he reached the forest, he was tense enough that his shoulders hurt. Thankfully, the only things pricking his skin and his conscience were his own guilt and confusion, for he was far enough away from other people that he could not feel, see, or hear anything from them. He stopped next to a large gacha tree and fisted his hands tightly.

“What is happening to me?” he muttered as fury filled him with white-hot flames. He threw his head back and roared his rage to the sky before once again attempting to hammer his way through the heart of the tree with his fists. Over and over he drove his hands into the unyielding wood, and once again, by the time he stopped, the knuckles on both hands were crushed, and the gray bark was streaked with crimson. When he tired, he rested his forearms on the trunk and his head on his arms. His hands throbbed, but the pain kept all other feelings at bay, and he welcomed it with every fiber of his being.

He felt Sophyra approaching him long before he heard her, and he opened his mind to her. The images that flooded his brain caused him to shudder. She stood just out of his reach, wringing her hands with worry; she ran to him and hugged him tightly, proclaiming her love for him; she fell to the ground sobbing with confusion and hurt. These images, combined with the sensations enveloping him, cut him to the core, and he kept his back to her even when she stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. When she laid her head on his back and held him, he tried to shrug her off, but she only tightened her grip.

“Why do you hurt yourself?” she asked quietly.

“So that I do not hurt someone else,” he answered. “Like you.”

“Something is wrong, Ga’briyel. You have never treated me like that before.”

“I know that!” He grabbed her arms and pulled her off him, leaving streaks of his blood on her bare forearms as he took three steps away from her even though his hands had already stopped bleeding. “I do not know what is wrong with me!” He dropped his head. “Maybe I should just leave. I seem to be doing everything wrong lately.”

“No! Do not ever say that again, Ga’briyel! You belong with me, and I belong with you! You will not dare suggest anything different!”

“I do not want to go, Sophyra,” he said, turning to face her. “Yisu knows I do not, but I almost raped you in that alley! If you had not slapped me, I would have, and I do not know why!” He dropped to his knees, and she stepped up to him and held his head to herself. “Please forgive me, my heart,” he whispered as he clenched his hands and laid them on his lap. “I never meant to hurt you.”

She fell to her knees in front of him. “Do you still have that…need?”

He looked up at her, his eyes wide. His brow then furrowed as he searched his feelings and his mind for any trace of the obsession that had engulfed him earlier. “No,” he said, wonder in his voice. He scowled and stood up, his hand going to his sword. “Someone was manipulating me,” he fumed. “I swear to Yisu, when I find out who it is, they will pay dearly.”

He started to stride toward the town, his fury growing by the second, but Sophyra grabbed his sleeve, and he stopped.

“What?” he snarled.

She stood in front of him, raised herself up on her toes, and kissed him. “I love you, Ga’briyel Mistri, and I always will. Never forget that.”

He pulled her close and kissed her back. “Never. I love you, too, no matter what happens. Will you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“When we get back to the town, find Dinton, Tero, and Mathi and stay with them. I do not know how long it will take to find whoever did this to me, and I do not want you hurt.”

She smiled. “Even though I will heal?”

“Pain is still pain, even for us, and there is no reason for you to feel pain if you do not have to.”

With a nod from her, they walked back to the town. Ga’briyel was furious that someone not only had the nerve to assault his mind like they did, but did it in such a way that Sophyra was hurt in the process. Maybe not physically, but he was sure that it would have escalated to that if she had not slapped him first and brought him back to himself. He was also furious that he did not know how they did it. He knew it was not a Daitya; he would have felt that in an instant. He had a strong feeling it was someone who worshiped Sayatan, but he could not have said why. He kept his mind open as they walked into the town, and then he felt it.

He could not tell exactly where it was coming from, but there was a faint prickle in the back of his head, and his grip on Sophyra’s arm tightened. Along with the prickle was the distinct urge to find another alley.

“Ga’briyel, What is wrong?”

“It is back. I have to get you away from me. Now.”

He picked up the pace and was practically running by the time they got to the center of the town and their home. He sighed in relief when he saw Dinton and Tero out front, and he stopped across the square from them.

“Please, Sophyra,” he said, taking her by the arms, “stay away from me until I figure out who is doing this. Promise me.”

“I promise,” she answered as she stepped back from him. “Just promise me that you will find them quickly.”

He just nodded, and she walked away from him, glancing back at him once before she stood before the others. His mind was still wide open, and he knew she was telling them what was happening, but when he saw Dinton stand up to accompany him, he shook his head, spun around, and stalked back toward the watchtowers.

Once at the main gate, he turned left and slowly walked down the street, his eyes half-closed as he felt with his mind for the person responsible for his plight. The prickling grew stronger once he passed the east gate, and he knew his prey was on the north side of the town. The sensation stayed the same while he searched the outer street, grew a little stronger as he hunted through the second street, and was a full-blown itch by the time he was halfway down the third. At that point, he drew his sword and slowed his walk to a crawl. He recognized the sensation now. It was the same thing he had felt from Omusa in Difeld.

Three houses further down, he knew he had found it, and he slammed his shoulder into the door, snapping the lock and sending splinters into the room. Inside was not what he was expecting.

A small boy was kneeling by the fireplace, his back to the door. In the fireplace was a fire, and a black pot hung over the flames. From the pot came a sickly smell that turned Ga’briyel’s stomach along with a black stream of smoke that puddled along the floor instead of flowing up the chimney. The boy was chanting in the Daitya’s language and seemed not to notice Ga’briyel’s arrival.

“Sayatan, fal’ paya pio eksyin l’yi. Fal’ siofro pio tioya m’ek prat io yi. Fal’ fa melmion ko bi kita l’e, se yio ko lo ranman l’e. Fal’ vla tioya tat la nen fan siofrens len.”

Sayatan, make him pay for his actions. Make him suffer for killing my father and your priest. Make him hurt those around him, those he loves.

Keeping his growl inside his head, he stepped up behind the child and grabbed the back of his collar, yanking him to his feet, causing the boy to cry out. Ga’briyel held him up in front of himself and stared into his eyes, letting his own eyes shine brightly. The boy could not have been more than ten years old.

“Your father is it? That would not have been Dahaka, would it, boy?” He kept his voice as cold as the grave, and the boy actually shivered in his grasp. “No, that cannot be. He did not have any children. Who was your father, boy?”

“Loga m’, Anmah! Mwan prol tenya eu apa veya nonm eu keta mo ye ya keta Amahan o nwo prol tota la peu latenata!”

Release me, Anmah! I will kill you and send your soul to Hell where the Dark Father will torture it for eternity!

Ga’briyel smiled. “You think I do not know what you are saying, boy, but I do. You are not Daitya, although I think you know who was, and therefore, you also know you cannot kill me.”

The grin that crossed the boy’s face was more evil than anything Ga’briyel had seen on a human, and then the child’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he began thrashing in the Anmah’s grip.

“You know nothing, Anmah!” The sound that came from the boy’s lips could not truly be called a voice. It was more like the noise created when a sword was scraped across a stone, and it caused the hairs on the back of Ga’briyel’s neck to stand up. “I know who you are, and I know how to kill you!”

The boy tried to turn his head and bite Ga’briyel, but the latter held him tightly enough that his teeth clamped shut on empty air.

“Who are you?” Ga’briyel said, turning and walking out the door, holding the boy at arm’s length as if he were infected with pox. The laugh that came from the boy chilled Ga’briyel to the bone, and he shuddered.

“Not who, Anmah, but what. I am not this boy you hold in your grip. I am not even Daitya as you correctly surmised.” The boy’s head turned, and the white eyes studied Ga’briyel intently. “Perhaps I underestimated you. I took a chance when I shot you with the arrow, and had I been able to get to you before first light, I would have killed you, and that death would have lasted for eternity.”

“Not going to happen, boy,” Ga’briyel said. “I am protected by Yisu Himself, and I cannot be killed permanently. Not even by you.”

The boy’s eyes widened, but they stayed rolled back into his head. “Sainika? Why did I not know this? I always know when a Sainika is born into the world.”

Ga’briyel frowned as he entered the town center. Who was this boy? No, not boy. This thing was pure evil, and the start of an idea tickled its way through his brain.

His friends and Sophyra were still across the square from him, and he stopped just as his foot hit the cobblestones of the square, for the boy snickered.

“I may not be able to kill you, Sainika, but I can kill them. With just my words, with just my thoughts, I can kill them. Even the Anmah that you love.” He turned his head and grinned at Ga’briyel. “Perhaps I will make her suffer, for that may be the only way to make you suffer.” The small head snapped back to face the others, and the boy began to speak.

“Io prelsiofro. Io prel nen egino…”

You will suffer. You will be in agony…

“No!” Ga’briyel screamed as he slammed his free hand over the thing’s mouth to stop his words. It did no good, however, for the thing’s thoughts slammed into his brain, and he could not help but understand what they were.

“Tat nio sento tenkio so yi prel akspliza. Brench io yi ta chora sito nen ki io yi. Io pe ke kenpa diola’e. Io dwa sospenn diola’e. Io dwa tioya tat nio yi sospenn diola’e.”

Your heads feel as if they will explode. Your limbs are being torn from your bodies. You cannot stand the pain. You must stop the pain. You must kill yourselves to stop the pain.

Ga’briyel watched in horror as his friends and his heart dropped to the ground, letting out the most horrific screams. They thrashed around on the ground, shrieking in pain, and the wave of horror that hit Ga’briyel almost caused him to drop the thing in his grip. He drew his sword and was about to drive it through the creature when it suddenly convulsed and stiffened.

“Sayatan, ada mo! Ina stip li! Sayatan, siva mo!”

Sayatan, help me! Stop her! Sayatan, save me!

With a last convulsion, the little body bent itself in two, and Ga’briyel dropped it to the ground. It lay still, and he prodded it with his boot. A whimper came from the body, and Ga’briyel shifted his sword and held it to the thing’s throat.

“Let them go!” he roared. “Whatever you are, let them go!”

“He cannot, Captain Mistri. He is just a boy again. Come to me now; I need you.”

Ga’briyel’s head snapped up as he heard Nikale’s clear, strong voice, and he expected to see her standing right next to him, but she was kneeling on the ground, one hand on each of his friends’ foreheads. They were both still thrashing around violently, and he took one glance at the small body at his feet and ran across the square, his sword still in his hand. When he reached Nikale, she glared at it.

“Put that away. It will do you no good here. Now, hold her down until I can help her.”

He sheathed the sword and knelt beside Sophyra who was screaming and trying to claw at her arms and legs. He grabbed her wrists and held onto them tightly.

“What is happening to them?” he gasped, astounded at Sophyra’s strength.

“Do not talk,” Nikale said in a tight voice. “Just hold her down. Do not let her hurt herself.” She muttered something else he did not quite hear.

“What was that?”

“I said I can only help one of them at a time. The others will have to wait.”

She let go of Dinton’s head and placed both of her hands on Tero’s and closed her eyes. Dinton resumed his thrashing and screaming. It was only then that Ga’briyel realized that his friend had stopped for the time that the old woman’s hand was on him.

“Yisu, hi menose noki. Yi Azazil sebdehero dore lunohis. Yesaki vocer dore lunohis. Yesaki ocche dore lunohis. Dikhe’o dore lunohis.”

Yisu, heal this man. Take away the Azazil’s words. Take away its thoughts. Take away its desires. Take away the pain.

Even though it was not the same language as the Daitya, Ga’briyel’s brain still translated it instantly. He stared at the old woman incredulously as she repeated the words twice more. When she finished, Tero lay still on the ground, his eyes closed. He looked as if he were sleeping, but he muttered and moaned quietly. Nikale then moved to Dinton and repeated the words three times while placing her hands on him. Just like Tero, he lay still afterwards, but he still cried out loudly.

“What—“

“Not yet, Captain,” Nikale interrupted him. “I must help Sophyra now.”

The incantation was again repeated three times with the only change being that of “heal this woman.” When Nikale finished, Sophyra lay on the ground and whimpered. The sound went straight to Ga’briyel’s heart, and he looked at Nikale, his eyes questioning. “Can I hold her?” The old woman simply nodded and collapsed onto the cobblestones.

Ga’briyel gathered Sophyra into his lap and held her head against his shoulder. She still whimpered, and he stared at the old woman.

“What happened? What is that thing?” He looked over his shoulder at the little body that still lay where he had dropped it.

“Before I answer that, I need to know what you plan to do to him.”

“I would like to kill it,” Ga’briyel said, his head snapping back to Nikale, “but I have the feeling you do not think I should.”

“No, I do not. The thing that controlled that boy is gone. Banished for now, but that does not mean it will not come back. It will take quite a while for it to reform, though. Perhaps as long as a year or maybe even two.”

“Controlled the boy? What are you talking about?”

The old woman pushed herself to her feet. “I will tell you, Captain. Help me get these three inside and in bed, and I will explain everything to you, I promise.”

“I will do it,” Ga’briyel said, standing up with Sophyra in his arms. “You look exhausted.”

“Thank you, boy,” Nikale answered with a smile. “When you get them in bed, I will come to you in your room. Perhaps I will even have mint tea for you.”

Ga’briyel could not return the smile, but he nodded and glanced at his friends once before carrying Sophyra into the house and up the stairs to their room. He gently laid her down on the bed after pulling the cover back. He took her shoes off and pulled the cover up to her chin before kissing her forehead and reluctantly leaving her to get his friends.