All Things Begin - The Anmah Series Book 1

First light came with dark gray clouds that covered the sky and sun and cast a deep gloom over the training grounds. In addition, thunder rumbled ominously above the assembled men and boys, and lightning flashed high in the clouds, creating an eerie light show.

Perfect weather for what is to come, Jarda thought as he stood on the platform before the entirety of the Guard and the Chatra except for the eight men standing guard at the gates and palace. All told, there were not quite two hundred men and boys lined up in front of him. They all stood at attention and waited for their general to speak. Only a few of the assembled knew exactly why they were there, but there was fear and unease on many of the faces before Jarda, for behind him were five stocks, each built for two prisoners, four of them brand new. In addition to them, a whipping post had been erected with stocks built in for hands and feet. It was positioned so that the back of the condemned would be to the assemblage.

Jarda stood at the center front of the platform while Captain Stiphen Phransa and Guardsman Tero Rabina stood to his left along one edge of it. Tero had asked to be part of this tragedy so that the other guardsmen knew that it was not only the officers who believed these actions necessary. Captain of the Guard Clithar Asgier had immediately agreed. Ma’ikel and King Tomas stood together on Jarda’s right side. Jarda had thought to have Ga’briyel accompany him, but after talking with Elise, he had decided that, remarkable as Ga’briyel might be, he was too young to watch what was about to happen.

Jarda let his Guard fret for about five minutes before speaking. He kept his eyes fixed on them all, and more than one Chatra dropped his gaze when Jarda stared at him. Many of the guardsmen looked as if they wanted to do the same, but they stood straight and tall and received Jarda’s glares without flinching. Finally, Jarda spoke, and his voice could have frozen a bonfire’s flames. “I regret to tell you all that you are here to witness a punishment that has not been meted out in the palace guard for more than a century. The reason for the lengthy time frame is because it has been that long since any behavior has been so heinous as to merit such punishment. And so that no one thinks that this punishment is unjust or unfair, I want you to see the victims of the crimes that were committed.”

Jarda gestured to Tero, and the guardsman walked down a set of steps. When he placed his hand on the bare shoulder of Dinton, the boy slowly walked up the steps, and the other eight boys who had been beaten followed him. They walked to Jarda and stopped, saluting him. He returned the salute and stood behind them as they faced the multitude who now stood as straight and motionless as the marble statues outside the palace.

“Look closely!” Jarda’s voice became even harder. He motioned to the boys, and they slowly turned, their hands on their heads, and showed off their bruises. “This is what has been going on in my Guard, in our Guard, and I am disgusted by it, as you should be. It makes me want to vomit knowing that some of our own committed such atrocities on these boys. It is because of this that the punishment you will see today is just and fair. Some of these boys have been tormented for almost a year, and they were threatened with worse if they told anyone what was happening.”

Jarda paused and listened as a rumble, deeper than the thunder above them, passed through the guardsmen. Many of the Chatra looked sick. Then he gestured to Tero again, and the guardsman led the boys off the platform. They put on their shirts and joined the ranks.

“Now, Captain Phransa.”

“Yes, sir, General Mistri.” Phransa and Tero left the platform and almost immediately returned with the ten offenders between them. Their hands were bound behind their backs with rope, and they all had on plain white shirts, linen breeches, and coarse brown shoes. Jarda could tell that none of them had slept the night before, and he thought it only right since he had not either. The captain had them line up at the edge of the platform. All of them paled when they saw the instruments of punishment that had been built the day before, and Juston and Eran looked as if they were about to faint.

Tero took the first in line, Brynjar, and led him to the whipping post. At twenty-three, he was the oldest of the group, and therefore the first to be punished. Tero untied his hands, stripped his shirt off him, and placed his hands in the upper stocks on the post before inserting the pin to hold the stocks closed. Then he put his feet in the lower stocks and stepped back.

“He is ready, General Mistri.”

“Proceed, Guardsman.” Jarda joined Phransa behind the other prisoners, partly to make sure they watched and partly to catch any who might faint or try to run.

“Yes, sir.” He picked up a knotted scourge with seven tails and stood so that the shackled man could see him. “Brynjar, you have been found guilty of brutalizing and terrorizing nine Chatra over the past year. You have been sentenced to receive twenty lashes and five days in the stocks, after which you will be dismissed from the service of the crown. You are hereby stripped of your rank and all that goes with it by order of King Tomas of Mahadesa. Do you have anything to say before sentence is carried out?”

“No.”

Tero frowned at the contempt and arrogance in that single word, and he said, “Very well.” His general had told him not to hold back with his strokes, and he twisted his body to get the most force behind them. The first landed with a sickening sound somewhere between a slap and a thud, accompanied by a scream from Brynjar and several red welts, two of which immediately oozed blood. Tero simply said, “One.”

The screams continued as Tero swung again and again and again until Brynjar’s back was covered in red and purple stripes, and the blood pooled at his feet. As expected, Juston had collapsed after the fifth stroke, and Eran had followed him after the tenth. All of the condemned and many of the assembled Chatra were trembling as Tero swung for the last time. None of the guardsmen were, however. They looked to be made of stone. Very angry stones. By the last stroke, Brynjar was no longer screaming; he was merely whimpering.

“Twenty.”

Tero put the scourge down and removed Brynjar from the post, but he immediately led him to the first set of stocks and placed him in them, hands and feet. The former guardsman simply laid his head on the top stock and cried.

Phransa stepped forward and took Iskander with him, securing him to the whipping post. Tears were streaming down the faces of the five former Chatra by this time, but the captain was just as harsh with his strokes as Tero had been. The captain and the guardsman took turns administering the lashes until all of the former guardsmen were in the stocks. Not one had made a statement before the flogging. At that point, Phransa secured Glaucus to the post.

“Glaucus,” he said, “you have been found guilty of brutalizing and terrorizing nine Chatra over the past year. You have been sentenced to ten lashes and three days in the stocks, after which you will be dismissed from the service of the crown. You are hereby stripped of your rank and all that goes with it by order of King Tomas of Mahadesa. Do you have anything to say before sentence is carried out?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy sobbed. “I am so, so sorry I was ever a part of any of this. It was wrong, and there is no excuse for my actions. I am sorry, sir.”

Phransa paused and looked at Jarda. The general knew what he was asking, but he could not show leniency, even though the boy showed clear regret and remorse for his actions. If he did, he knew that the other four would try the same thing, whether they meant it or not. Therefore, Jarda just hardened his eyes and nodded to his captain to continue. Phransa nodded back and swung the scourge.

“One.”

The boy’s scream permeated the entire training grounds from one end to the other. Phransa gritted his teeth and swung again.

“Two.”

The scream changed to a strangled gurgle, and Glaucus sagged in the stocks. A third swing followed.

“Three.”

The boy was gasping for breath, and with the fifth lash, he had passed out. Phransa once again looked at Jarda.

“Wake him up and finish.” Jarda was feeling sick himself by that point, but he kept his voice cold, knowing he could not show any sign of indecision.

Phransa swallowed. “Yes, sir.” He got some water and splashed it on Glaucus’ face, rousing him. “Only five more,” he whispered to the boy before he stood, steeling himself against the whimper that came from the former Chatra and continuing the lashes. When he finally counted out the tenth, he carefully led the sobbing boy to the stocks and locked him in. He joined his general behind the three boys left after the guardsman led Ricard to the post. He felt physically ill, and it only got worse when he thought about the fact that it would be he who delivered the lashes to the youngest, thirteen-year-old Juston, who was curled up on the platform at that moment, soft moans coming from him.

The process continued with the next three boys all fainting at some point in the punishment. They were each roused so that they could receive the full number of lashes. When Eran was placed in the stocks, Tero walked to Phransa and told him with his eyes how sorry he was that the captain had to be the last to wield the scourge. Phransa nodded and reached down to his feet and tried to pick up Juston by his arms.

“No! Please, General, please no!” The boy started screaming, and wrapped his arms around Jarda’s legs. “I am sorry, sir, so sorry! Please let me just go home! I will just go home, and you will not ever see me again!”

Phransa gazed at Jarda with pleading eyes, but Jarda gritted his teeth and shook his head once. “I am sorry, Captain. I cannot.”

“I know, sir,” the captain said, once again trying to pull the boy to his feet. “I understand.”

Juston had a strong grip on Jarda, and Phransa was unable to pry him loose. Tero came to help, and between the two of them, they pulled the boy free.

“No! No, please, no!” Juston struggled as they dragged him to the post and secured him to it. “No, please! Please, General, please let me go home!”

Phransa took a deep breath and picked up the scourge. He released the breath slowly, reared back, and struck. The shriek that came from the boy was heartrending, but the captain controlled his voice.

“One.”

Each lash produced another shriek, and by the sixth, the boy had started calling for his mama. Jarda looked out over the assembly and saw that most of the Chatra had either turned away or had dropped to the ground, covering their heads with their arms. A sour stench filled the air, and he knew that several had vomited. Many of the guardsmen looked as if they wanted to do the same now, but to their credit, they were all still watching. Finally, Captain Phransa swung the cat for the last time.

“Ten.”

He dropped the scourge and released the boy from the post. After securing him in the stocks, he faced his general and stood at attention. Jarda nodded to him once and then moved in front of his king. Just as he was about to kneel, lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and the skies opened up as if Yisu Himself was crying for what had just transpired.

Fitting, Jarda thought as he watched the rain briefly, and then he dropped to one knee.

“Rise, General Mistri. You and your men have fulfilled your duties admirably.” Tomas said loud enough for all to hear even over the din of the thunderstorm.

“Thank you, sire.” After he stood, Jarda looked at Ma’ikel. “Find my son and take him for a while, I beg you,” he said softly. “I do not want him at home when I get there.”

“Of course, Jarda. I will get him now.”

As Tomas and Ma’ikel left the platform, Jarda turned and spoke to the assembly. The platform had a roof, but the guardsmen and Chatra were getting drenched.

“The Guard is dismissed to return to their duties, and the Chatra are dismissed for the day. They are to have no training and no duties until tomorrow.”

The guardsmen snapped to attention and saluted before slowly filing out of the training grounds, but the Chatra simply melted away without looking at the platform. Jarda thought he saw tears on the faces of more than half of them, but he was not sure if it was that or the rain that was quickly turning the training grounds into a massive mud puddle. He had to swallow thickly to keep himself in control until the last of them disappeared. When they did, he walked off the platform, outwardly calm and severe, but as soon as he got out of earshot and eyesight of everyone, he bent over and emptied his stomach onto the ground. The rain almost immediately washed it away. He put his hands on his knees and breathed heavily as tears filled his eyes. He closed them tightly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before tipping his head back, opening his mouth, and letting the rain rinse it for him. He stood for a long while until he was soaked to the skin. Then, straightening his body and his uniform, he clenched his jaw so hard it hurt and stormed back to the palace.

Every guardsman he passed snapped to attention and saluted him, but he saw none of it. He entered the palace and made his way to his quarters, Juston’s pleas tormenting him the entire way. He slammed the door to his office open and slammed it closed. He fisted his hands in his hair and paced the length of the room as he tried to rein in his emotions, leaving a trail of water in his wake. The screams and shrieks and cries of the past two hours filled his ears, and he collapsed in his chair, laid his head on his desk, and struggled not to give into the tears he felt burning behind his eyes.

He thought he had succeeded when he felt Elise’s hands on his shoulders as she gently massaged them. He let out a sob then, and she quickly knelt before him and drew his head to her breast.

“Let it go, Jarda. It is all right to cry.”

“No, it is not,” he gasped. “I am General of the Guard. I cannot give in to such weakness.”

“Look at me,” she said softly. He raised his head, and she cupped his cheek. “Tears do not make you weak, my love, they make you human.” She kissed him gently. “Let it go.”

At that, he slid off the chair onto his knees, wrapped his arms around her, and laid his head on her shoulder, but he refused to let the tears come although he was unable to keep in another sob. They stayed that way until he had calmed a little, and then he turned his face into her neck and kissed her.

“I love you,” he whispered and kissed her again. He raised his head, took her head in his hands and kissed her passionately. His hands drifted down to her shoulders and then around to her back. He pulled her close as he deepened the kiss further. Then he pulled back slightly but kept his lips on hers. “So much,” he murmured against her mouth. “I love you so much.”

Elise gasped as he trailed kisses down her jaw back to her neck. “Show me how much,” she said, and he immediately stood, picked her up, and carried her to their room to do just that.