All Things Begin - The Anmah Series Book 1

“Why did Baba not let me watch?” Ga’briyel was indignant. He had wanted to know what was happening in the training grounds, but his father had insisted that he stay with his mother, and he was not happy about it.

“Because Anmah or not, Sainika or not, no six-year-old should see that,” Ma’ikel said sternly. “It is bad enough that the Chatra had to watch, but it was necessary.”

“Why?”

“So that what happened to those boys never happens again. When people witness such severe consequences, they will think twice about doing anything that might put them in the same position.”

“What consequences? Baba would not tell me anything!”

Ma’ikel studied the boy before him. Through his research the day before, he had determined that the child was indeed Sainika, but he seemed to be much more than that. When Jarda had mentioned the day and time he had found Ga’briyel, something had stirred in Ma’ikel’s memory. He had skimmed through dozens of scrolls and books and personal notes before finding his answer.

At exactly one hour before full dark four moons before Jarda found the boy, Ma’ikel had been staring out his window. His eyes had gone wide when he saw a red comet streak across the night sky. His studies had confirmed that the comet was a sign of a Sainika loose in the world once again, but that was not all. Most Sainika were preceded by a white comet, but a red comet foretold of a special Sainika, one who would save the world from total annihilation. Either that or a Sainika who would destroy the world. The ancient texts were not exactly clear on that point.

Jarda had also told him about Ga’briyel knowing how many prisoners there were, but Ma’ikel had not had an answer as to how that was possible. He still had no answer. He did know that the boy did not act like any six-year-old he had ever known before.

“All I will tell you,” he said finally, “is that they were flogged and will spend time in the stocks.”

“Flogged? What is that?”

“Whipped. To the point that their backs were bloody.”

The boy frowned. “Why would my baba do that to someone?”

“As I said, to make sure no one else in the Guard or the Chatra commits the same atrocities or anything even remotely like them. Your baba had to put the fear of punishment back into the boys and men under his command so that things will run like they should without anyone straying from the rules again.”

“But, how could he order someone to be hurt? Is he a cruel man?”

“No, little one,” Ma’ikel said seriously. “He is a very good man. I am sure he is chastising himself right now because of the necessity of his actions. Having to do this has been tearing him up inside since he made up his mind about it yesterday. Did you not notice that he was not as cheerful or relaxed last night as he usually is?”

Ga’briyel nodded thoughtfully. “I told my mama that she should try to make him feel better because I do not like it when he is upset.”

“You did?” Ma’ikel tried not to smile. “And what did she say to that?”

“That she would do her best to do so.”

“Well,” the older Anmah cleared his throat to hide the laugh that escaped him, “I am sure she thought of something to take his mind off his troubles.”

“I hope so,” the little boy said decisively. “I really do not like him as he was yesterday or this morning.” He looked at his Siskaska. “Did you know he did not sleep last night?”

“Oh? How do you know that?”

“Because I heard him walking around. He kept me up, too.”

“I am sure he regrets that. Did you tell him?”

“No, he was so stern this morning that I did not want to make things worse.”

“Well, that was probably a smart decision. I know he was not at all looking forward to what he had to do this morning.”

“I am glad,” Ga’briyel said. “It is good to know that my baba is not a cruel man.”

“Yes, it is,” Ma’ikel answered. “Now, it is time to continue with your lessons. I will take you home afterward. I am sure your baba will be back by then.”

For the next two hours, Ma’ikel worked with the boy on reading, history, and mathematics. The rate at which the child was able to process new material amazed the Anmah, and he once again wondered who exactly Ga’briyel Mistri was.

When they were finished for the day, Ma’ikel walked the boy back to the family’s quarters. He knocked on Jarda’s office door, and when there was no answer, he opened it a crack and looked in to make sure he was not interrupting anything. Seeing the empty room, he led the boy inside and then knocked on the connecting door. Moments later, Elise opened it and smiled down at her son.

“So, Ga’briyel, how were your lessons today?”

“Just fine, Mama. I learned about numbers and how letters make words today, but I also learned a little about what Baba had to do this morning. Is he all right?”

“He will be,” Elise said, her smile slipping. “He is not here right now, though. He is back at the training grounds.”

“Why?”

“I do not know; I did not ask.”

“Do you think it would be all right for me to go to him there?”

Elise frowned. She knew that the ten who had been flogged were currently locked in the stocks, but she also knew that they could not keep Ga’briyel away from the grounds for the next five days.

“I will tell you what,” she said. “Ma’ikel can take you there, but you must stay outside until he asks your baba if it is all right for you to enter, do you understand? If your baba says no, then that will be final.”

“I understand, Mama.” Ga’briyel looked up at Ma’ikel. “Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, but please wait in the office for me. I need to talk to your mother for a moment.”

“All right.” Ga’briyel walked through the door, and Ma’ikel shut it behind him. Then he turned to Elise.

“How is he really?”

She released a heavy sigh. “Not good. I meant it when I said he will be all right, but it is going to take a while. He is very angry, Ma’ikel, and it scares me. I have never seen him like this before.”

“Angry at what?”

“Not what—whom. He is angry at the ones who hurt those boys, he is angry at everyone who did not notice it going on, he is angry at the guardsmen who watched and let it happen, but mostly, I think he is angry at himself. I do not know what he could have done differently, but I know he hates what he had to do. I tried to take his mind off it, but it did not work for long. He left here absolutely furious.”

“Would you like me to speak with him?”

Elise sighed again. “No, he knows everything you would tell him. That he had no choice, that it was for the good of the Guard, that he saved those children from worse. He has to work through this on his own.”

“You are probably right. Well, I will take Ga’briyel to him. Perhaps his son can cheer him up.”

“Perhaps.” Elise did not sound convinced.

Ma’ikel went into Jarda’s office and found Ga’briyel studying some portraits on the wall. The boy looked at him quizzically.

“They all have the name Mistri on the plaques. Who are they?”

“Your baba’s forefathers.”

“Were they all generals like him?”

“I believe so, but that is a question you will have to ask him. Shall we go?”

The boy nodded, and soon they were outside one of the doors leading to the training grounds.

“Wait here,” Ma’ikel said, “and I will let you know what your baba says.”

Ga’briyel nodded as he sat on a bench next to the door, and Ma’ikel entered the grounds. He saw no sign of his friend, but he heard noises from the guardsmen’s gymnasium beyond the Chatra training area. He glanced at the ten in the stocks on his way across the vast, empty space, trying to remember a time when it was that quiet. The only time he could think of was almost a thousand years earlier when the city had been ransacked and decimated. He did not like the reminder.

As he entered the gymnasium, he looked around until he found Jarda at the back, torso bare, pummeling a hanging bag. Sweat was streaming down his skin, and the sound of his fists meeting the leather told Ma’ikel that he was not holding back on the power of his swings. There was a wide, vacant space around him; the guardsmen were obviously trying not to attract his notice. Ma’ikel walked up and leaned on the wall next to the bag. He said nothing for a moment, and Jarda only glared at him.

“How long have you been here?” the Anmah asked.

“I have no idea,” Jarda answered, swinging his fist into the bag.

“Your son is waiting outside the grounds wanting to speak to you. Shall I bring him in?”

“No,” Jarda said with a grunt as his fist met the bag once again. “I will go to him.” He caught the bag as it swung back to him, grabbed his shirt, pulled it over his head, and then turned and stormed through the gymnasium. Ma’ikel kept pace with him.

“You know, you might want to temper your anger before you talk to Ga’briyel,” the Anmah said softly when he heard a growl come from Jarda as he passed the platform. “He may not understand that you are not angry with him.”

The growl turned into a snarl as the general turned a dark look on his friend. “I know how to treat my son, Anmah.”

“I know that, but you are not yourself right now, and I do not want you to scare him as you are scaring Elise.”

Jarda stopped with his hand on the latch of the door. He took a long, deep breath and held it for several seconds. As he released it slowly, he pictured Ga’briyel’s face and used the vision to calm himself as much as possible. “You are right, of course,” he said softly, and then he turned the latch.

Ga’briyel jumped up from the bench when he saw his father and stood straight. Jarda sighed heavily and dropped to his knees.

“Come here, Ga’briyel,” he said, and his son walked to him slowly, his eyes wary. “Do not be afraid.”

When the boy was within reach, Jarda pulled him close and held him tightly. He breathed in his scent, and it relaxed him somewhat. He let go when Ga’briyel stiffened, however.

“What is wrong, my son?”

Violet eyes shone as the young Anmah studied him. “Something is not right with you, Baba.”

Jarda frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You are angry, and it frightens me.”

Glancing up at Ma’ikel in concern, Jarda saw that the Anmah was studying Ga’briyel closely. Jarda dropped his head and took another deep breath. Raising his eyes to his son, he said, “You are right; I am very angry, but not with you. I am angry about the situation I have found myself in, and I am angry about the things I had to do today. I am furious with those who put me in such a position that I had to do things that make me feel like this. But, I do not want you to be scared of me, ever, Ga’briyel. I would never harm you in any way. I love you.”

The boy closed his eyes. “When you were hitting the bag, you were wishing it was a person, were you not? Who was it?”

“How did you know that is what I was doing?”

“I saw you.”

Jarda frowned. “Did Ma’ikel not tell you to stay out here?”

“Yes, sir, and I did.”

“Then how could you have seen me?”

Ga’briyel tapped his forehead, eyes still closed. “I saw you in here.”

Ma’ikel knelt on one knee next to Jarda. “Tell me what you saw,” he said determinedly. “Describe it in detail.”

The boy’s eyes opened and bored into Ma’ikel’s. “It was like I was looking through water,” he said clearly. “It reminded me of when I woke up after being in the river. When I opened my eyes then, I was still underwater, and the sky looked…blurry. I cannot describe it better than that.”

“That is all right; I understand what you mean. Keep going.”

“I saw my baba like I was standing right in front of him. He was hitting a long, brown bag that was hanging from the ceiling by an iron chain.” Ga’briyel paused. “Is that enough detail?”

Ma’ikel smiled. “Yes, it is just enough.”

“Good. I saw how angry my baba was, and I…felt it, too.”

“Felt it how?”

Ga’briyel frowned and looked at his feet briefly before tilting his head up just enough to look at his father.“It was hot, like fire. It was as if I was standing in front of the bonfires we used to light during Winter Festival, but twice as hot. I knew that it came from you, Baba. I do not know how I knew that, but I did.” He dropped his eyes. “It is not as bad now, but it is still there. Do you not feel it? It still feels hot enough to burn you up.”

Jarda and Ma’ikel exchanged glances, and then Jarda said, “Not in the way you mean, Ga’briyel. Is that why you are scared? You think I am being burned by it?”

The boy nodded silently.

Jarda brushed his son’s hair from his forehead. “I am all right, Ga’briyel, I promise. You have to understand that hitting the bag helps the anger go away a little.”

“Does it? Maybe I should try it.”

“Why? What do you have to be angry about?”

Ga’briyel’s eyes flashed. “I want to make the Asabya pay for what they did to my people. I want to hurt them. Does that make me a bad person, Baba?”

Jarda cocked his head. “No, my son. Wanting vengeance is a natural reaction after something like that. Would you like to try the bag now?”

“May I?”

“Of course you may.” Jarda stood up and took his son’s hand. “Come on. I will help you.”

“Thank you, Baba.”

“You are welcome.”

Jarda looked back as they entered the training grounds and saw that Ma’ikel was still kneeling, his violet eyes shining brightly as he watched them leave. Suddenly, their eyes locked, and Ma’ikel mouthed,We need to talk. Jarda nodded and shut the door.

As they passed by the platform, Ga’briyel’s grip tightened, and he stopped and stared at the ten in the stocks. They were silent, and all but Iskander and Glaucus had their heads resting on the top of the stocks. An occasional sob came from Juston.

“Did you do that to them, Baba?” Ga’briyel whispered.

“Not personally, no, but I ordered it to be done.”

“But why? Ma’ikel said you are not a cruel man, but that seems very cruel to me.”

Jarda tugged on Ga’briyel’s hand, and they started walking again. “Tell me what you want to do to the Asabya, my son.”

“Why?”

“Because it will help answer your question.”

The boy’s answer was instantaneous, and Jarda knew that he had been thinking about it a lot. “If I could, I would go to their city and burn it to the ground. I would kill everyone there just as they did at Desa. I would leave their bodies for the wolves and ravens to feast on.”

“Does that desire make you a cruel person, Ga’briyel? They are cruel actions.”

Ga’briyel thought about it. “I do not think I am cruel, Baba. I do not want to be.”

They had entered the gymnasium, and guardsmen saluted as Jarda passed them. “Wanting to do those things does not make you cruel, my son. Even doing them would not make you so. Getting revenge for something that has happened to you does not mean you are cruel.”

“Is that what you did to those on the platform, Baba? Get revenge for something?”

“Not revenge. Justice. They hurt some little boys badly. They terrorized them until they were scared to tell anyone that they were being hurt. I had to make sure they paid for their actions and to make sure that no one else even thinks to do the same as they did. By making everyone watch the punishment, I let everyone know what will happen to them if they try something similar.”

Ga’briyel stood before the bag, thinking. Then he nodded. “That makes sense. If you did not punish them, others might do the same thing later.”

“Exactly. Now, do you want to try the bag?”

“Yes, sir.” The little boy’s hands clenched into fists. “Will it be like when I hit Ricard?”

“Somewhat.” Jarda gestured toward Tero who was watching two guardsmen practicing with blunt swords. The guardsman walked over to his general and stood at attention.

“Yes, General?”

“Help me lower this bag, Guardsman. My son needs to hit something.”

The corner of Tero’s mouth quirked upward, but he quickly acknowledged the order, and the two men adjusted the chain until the bottom of the bag was just about a span off the ground. At Jarda’s dismissal, Tero left, but when he reached his former position, Jarda saw that his eyes were not on the swordsmen.

Suppressing a smile, Jarda knelt behind the bag to hold it steady. “Go ahead, Ga’briyel. Take your anger out on the bag.”

The next half hour disappeared quickly as Ga’briyel pounded the bag almost as fervently as his father had shortly before. His fists flew with precision and his feet danced as if the boy had been fighting for years. When he finally dropped his hands, barely breathing harder than normal, Jarda stared at him in amazement.

“Where did you learn to do that? Did your first baba teach you to fight?”

“No, sir. In my village, I did not have to do anything. My family took care of everything.”

“Then how do you know how to fight?”

Ga’briyel threw up his hands and huffed. “I do not know! Why do you keep asking me that?” he snapped loudly, and then he immediately flushed and dropped his eyes and hands. “I am sorry, Baba. I did not mean to yell at you.”

A sudden hush filled the room as Jarda placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, gripping it tightly as he frowned. “That is all right, Ga’briyel. This time. But the next time you are disrespectful to me like that, you will be punished. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Ga’briyel said, standing straight. “It will not happen again, I promise.”

“See to it that you keep that promise.” Jarda looked around the room at the guardsmen who were watching their general, and, as he made eye contact with them, they hastily averted their gaze and returned to their previous activities. Tero was the only one who did not move. He had not budged from the time he had moved away from the bag, and even now, when Jarda looked at him, he only respectfully lowered his eyes and bowed his head briefly before once again watching them silently.

“Come on,” Jarda said, returning his attention to his son, “it is time to get you back home.”

“What are you going to do, Baba?”

“I need to talk to Ma’ikel.” He picked up his blue jacket from the bench behind the bag, tucked in his shirt, and donned the jacket.

“About me?”

“Partially, yes. He is very old and has more knowledge and wisdom than anyone else I know. Perhaps between the two of us, we can figure out what is going on with you.”

As the two walked out of the gymnasium, Ga’briyel said, “That would be nice. I do not like things I do not understand.”

“You said that before. Hopefully we can come up with some answers for you and for us.”

Silence prevailed as father and son walked back to their quarters hand in hand where Jarda passed the boy off to his mother before making his way to Ma’ikel’s room. He knocked and waited impatiently for several moments, but the Anmah was not there. Jarda scowled and went to the throne room. The guardsmen at the doors saluted him, and as he returned it, he said, “Is Ma’ikel within?”

“No, General.”

“Do you happen to know where he is?”

“I believe I heard him say something about the archives, sir.”

Jarda nodded and walked swiftly down corridor after corridor and staircase after staircase into the bowels of the palace. Finally, he came to a heavy wooden door bound by iron bands. There was no guard here, for anyone who desired to make the trek had access to every book and scroll within. Very few people did so, however, and when Jarda pushed the door open, it creaked loudly. The Anmah inside looked up at the noise.

“I presumed you would find me down here,” he said, “when I was not elsewhere.” He was seated at a table that looked close to buckling underneath the load of books and papers and scrolls.

“Have you found anything?” Jarda asked, seating himself across from the Anmah at the table, being careful not to knock over any of the piles.

“Some things, yes. Other things? I will have to spend many more days down here, I think.”

“What have you discovered?”

“One thing for sure is that Ga’briyel is Sainika. There is no doubt about that. I still have not found anything explaining his other abilities, such as seeing things with his mind. His description of feeling the heat of your anger has stirred a memory in my brain, but I cannot pull it out. Give me time; it will come to me.”

“Well, I have just witnessed another of his innate abilities.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“The boy can fight. I know I saw him yesterday morning, but when he stood in front of the bag, his technique was as perfect as a master warrior’s. I am curious to see if that ability applies to weapons as well as his bare hands.”

“I suspect it will. The little I have found has not mentioned any Sainika so young, but then again, most Anmah are not so young.” Ma’ikel sighed. “I have lived for three thousand, six hundred and seventy-three years, Jarda, and in all that time, the youngest first death I personally know of was fourteen. Even the archives only tell of four others as young as Ga’briyel, and, other than being Anmah, there was nothing spectacular about them. I have found nothing that explains this child, Jarda.”

Jarda chuckled mirthlessly. “He will not be pleased to hear that, my friend. He wants to understand what is happening to him.”

“I know he does, but as of right now, I cannot help him. He may simply have to figure things out on his own. I will continue to search, but I am not hopeful for any results.”

“Are there any other Anmah who might know?”

“Possibly, but I doubt it. I am the oldest of our kind, and I am the only one who has devoted his life to keeping our history known and recorded.”

Running his hands through his hair, Jarda frowned. “And Yisu has chosen me to guide Ga’briyel through whatever he goes through. How am I supposed to do that when I do not have any idea what to expect?”

Ma’ikel reached across the table and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You do the best you can, as will I. Together, we will help him.”

Jarda shook his head. “I surely hope so.”