Spirits of Falajen

by Ginger Salazar

  Teamwork was encouraged in Dominion training as Brisethi Sen Asel sighed, nodding to her. “I, uh, I’m tired. My hands and wrists hurt from those push-ups and mountain climbers. They keep shaking when I try to spell my name.”

  The girl pursed her lips in almost a pout and shifted some of Sen Asel’s items in front of her to begin neatly stenciling.

  Brisethi was grateful for her help. She viewed the name sewn on to the girl’s black and red uniform. “Pyraz?”

  “Yep, Korteni Pyraz. Where are you from?” She asked while focusing on the task at hand. The cold, stone hall was alive with the chatter of a hundred recruits getting to know one another.

  When she finally looked at the girl’s face, Brisethi was taken aback by her seafoam eyes that contrasted sharply with her pale skin and sable hair. She was probably the most beautiful girl she had ever met. “Here, Res’Baveth,” Brisethi said.

  “Ah, a city girl. I’m from Worgale,” Pyraz replied, ruffling at her thick, freshly-cut hair. “You ever been there?”

  “I’ve never really traveled south of here. I grew up in northern Res’Baveth, closer to the sea.” Brisethi considered how it might be a good idea to have at least one friend for the next four years as she continued small talk with the cordial woman. “Were you on a farm or something?” Considering how pale the girl’s skin was, Brisethi realized how silly her question sounded.

  Pyraz chuckled. “Nope, my family specializes in weaponsmithing.”

  “I’m intrigued, what kind of weapons? Swords? Rifles? Everything?” Brisethi asked with renewed interest in the conversation.

  Before Pyraz could answer, the recruits were ordered to gather their packs and fall into ranks. They were led inside one of the Citadel’s many entrances and escorted to the recruit barracks, located in the basement. The recruits quickly placed their issued items neatly away in individual small lockboxes located near their racks. In reality, the barracks was just one large room, dark and cold, which could snugly house one hundred recruits. The females only took up a quarter of the room yet had their own wash room, with the same amount of privacy as the males, which meant none. The Resarian Dominion had been known for having the only military in all of Falajen that allowed females to enlist into combat roles. But not all people of the world of Falajen had the advantage of living nine centuries that Resarians did, while only having a maximum of two children. The Resarian population valued each of their own too much to segregate genders.

  The first month of training passed quickly by, filled with the most basic of instructions and orientation. The division only lost one member due to her failure to adapt. Nobody was going to miss the tiny, depressed, female who couldn’t obey the simplest commands. Korteni Pyraz had been the only person to attempt to help the girl, but even she had lost her patience after three weeks when the girl wouldn’t stop crying about her lover, worried he would leave her for someone new.

  Then the day came to pack up and head out. “We’re finally leaving, isn’t this exciting?” Korteni elbowed Brisethi.

  “When do we get our own swords? I want a pistol, already,” she replied.

  “They have to make sure your spirit is synchronized before they give you physical weapons,” answered a kind male standing behind them in formation. “Did you not talk to Prelate Li’lii yet?”

  “I did,” replied Brisethi coldly. She wouldn’t say out loud what the Prelate had revealed to her of her spirit. She’d already known most of what was lectured to her.

  “Ah, well, I guess she valued my brain more than yours. We’ll get them at our first camp,” the sinewy, dark-skinned man teased. “I’m Antuni Crommik, by the way. Nice to meet you-”

  “Stop talking in formation, Antuni, you’re going to get us reprimanded again,” his comrade nudged him.

  “I’m just trying to inform these,” he paused to look both of them up and down, despite their bulky uniforms, “nice ladies of why we don’t have weapons yet,” he quipped then turned his attention back to the girls. “And this impediment of a half-Resarian swine is Etyne. We grew up together in the inner city,” Antuni grinned, placing his arm around his childhood friend who had joined the Dominion Expedition with him.

  Etyne nodded politely to them, giving no real consideration to the two women he would purposely try to avoid for the next four years. He and Antuni had been given the lectures from their recruiter about females in training expeditions and the drama that followed. Befriending anyone more than his childhood friend was the last thing Etyne Vorsen wanted out of the expedition.

  Korteni hadn’t realized she was staring at the half-Resarian’s eyes. Never before had she known a pair of aqua colored eyes that resembled tropical waters. What was more alarming were his missing pupils. “Do you mind if I ask-“

  “I am half Kiaran; our pupils reflect the same color as our irises,” he austerely replied, apparently accustomed to the question when someone stared at his face for an uncomfortable amount of time.

  “Oh, I see it now - although, I’ve never met a Kiaran, before,” Korteni bluntly stated, staring closely at his sharp features, black hair and bronzed skin.

  “Soon, we may meet more,” he said, once again anxious about having enemy blood running through his veins.

  “Just remember whose side you’re on when it comes time to fight them.” Brisethi held in a laugh then murmured to Korteni, “I’ve always wanted to say that to someone, just like in the stories.”

  Etyne ignored her, annoyed from hearing that line half a dozen times in his first month of training. Antuni chuckled, “I tell him the same thing at least once a year.” He elbowed his half-Kiaran friend, earning a glare in return.

  “Crommik! Vorsen! Pyraz! Sen Asel! Since it appears the four of you have so much to chat about, step out of formation and commune with one another while mountain climbing!” Shouted Master Chief Synsun.

  The four recruits muttered a curse, blaming Antuni, mostly, for their hour-long physical reprimand.

  Master Chief Synsun was the highest enlisted division commander and gave most of the orders. He represented the naval warfare portion which the recruits would train in during their fourth and final year of the expedition by taking part in ship patrols. His voice bellowed, silencing all recruits throughout the drill hall as they formed up with their gear on their backs, standing at attention. “Recruits, this is your last chance to back down. Once we leave the city, we are all on our own. If you don’t think you can handle marching, fighting, hunting, and sailing in extreme climate for the next four years, then Captain Tallien doesn’t want you in her Army and I don’t want you in my Navy.” Complete silence followed. “Attention to the Dominion Creed!”

  In unison, every recruit shouted the creed they were instructed to memorize their past month.

  The spirit of our land resides in us

  through the breath of dragons.

  Our fire from the sky scarred the nations.

  From the scars of Sariadne, the Dominion was born.

  I will defend her from her enemy.

  I will die before I commit treason.

  I represent the antecedents

  who have passed their spirits unto us,

  And I will use such spirits to honor our nation,

  never against my brethren.

  After a moment’s pause, Master Chief shouted, “Forward, march!”

  The four division commanders led wooden wagons full of tents and supplies, pulled by stalwart horses, followed by the ninety-nine recruits. The absence of chatter continued as they marched toward their first destination due south across the plains under the blanketing late autumn snowfall. They would learn to adapt and enjoy the soft footfalls of a hundred and two pairs of leather combat boots that broke the silence during their next four years.

  Chapter II

  Within six months of marching, camping, learning defensive techniques, and basic survival skills on the grassy terrains of middle Sariadne; under cloud cover, sunny days, blizzards and thunderstorms, it was t
ime for the commanders to choose their first corporals. Just under a third of the ninety-nine recruits had already been promoted to private first class, and it was time to choose the top four of those thirty to help lead the division in an ancient tradition from before the Dominion was even created.

  The sun was set and the freshly hunted boars were cooking in the earthen firepits. Torches were lit around the field at the foot of the lone laccolith mountain on the grassy plains.

  “There was a time,” Captain Tallien began with the recruits surrounding her, “when the Kiarans and the Resarians lived peacefully with one another on our beloved, enchanted continent,” Everyone, including herself, had removed their black leather uniforms, trimmed in scarlet and gold, to don native, natural leathers and hides just as their indigenous ancestors had in the time of tribes and clans. Designs and ancient text had been painted on their bodies to mimic the warriors of their past. They wanted to instill into the recruits that the rank of corporal was once considered “Chief” among small Resarian and Kiaran tribes.

  “As the centuries went on the tribes became bigger,” she continued, “new ranks were added and eventually, the rank of corporal had become the stepping stone to becoming a Dominion recruit leader while on the expedition. Tonight, thirty of you will take part in ‘Destination Devastation’: The primordial, difficult ascension to the top of Mount Devastation. The first four to make it to the top, will be our first corporals of the division.” She purposefully elected to not mention the ropes, ladders, bridges and loose steps that covered the entire steep, twelve-hundred foot mountain, nor the fact that they would all be without their shoes.

  As exciting as the climb sounded, Brisethi was in no hurry to get to the top. She would pace herself behind the other recruits, finding the mistakes they would make in their efforts to overrun each other.

  Captain Tallien fired her flintlock pistol into the air, sounding the start of the race.

  “I can’t see three feet in front of me,” Brisethi groaned as she carefully walked barefoot around the mountain, trying not to follow anyone. Antuni Crommick was at her heels, especially when he noticed her light a small flame in the palm of her hand. There wasn’t a rule stating that mystics were prohibited, considering most Resarians their age couldn’t summon mystics without a proper trainer.

  “Do you even want to rank up, yet?” Antuni asked her, startling her from her concentration.

  “Considering I’m going to be the General of the Dominion one day, yes, but this barbaric task isn’t how I imagined I’d get there,” she scoffed. Although it was dark, she still felt as if the two pieces of leathers that barely covered her thighs and chest were very revealing. She had Korteni paint various ancient Resarain symbols on parts of her body that weren’t covered by the skimpy clothes.

  Etyne Vorsen was following his friend, listening to them both ramble on about how simple the first six months of basic training had been. He was fortunate that they had followed the one recruit who had learned mystic summoning as a child, and happened to have been that of fire. She had saved their already calloused feet from several protruding rocks strewn about the grassy ground.

  “I just have this solid feeling about her, man, she’s stronger than most people, already conjuring flames at will so young. She’s already igniting a fire in my heart! And we both know how I love strong women,” Antuni retorted to his curious half-Kiaran friend.

  “You’re going to move on from her before the year is up,” Etyne sarcastically replied. “Just try not to get us into anymore trouble.”

  “Oh piss off, you old cloudy-eyed bastard! It wasn’t even my fault last time,” he riposted.

  “Hey! Do you two bumbling boar butts mind? Go follow someone else!” Brisethi chided.

  “At least I don’t look like one,” Antuni retorted back to her.

  Etyne broke away from the two and found his footing on an unstable ladder built into the sheer mountain wall. Antuni noticed his friend had deviated and followed after him. Brisethi kept on her own path, starting to climb with the assistance of a rope a little further on.

  Private First Class Kanilas Trenn had already climbed halfway up, shoving his fellow recruits out of the way. He had removed the makeshift leather gauntlets from his forearms and wrapped them around his bare feet. Early promotion to him meant more frakshins and power. He thrived on competitions and would ensure he was the first to the top. He noticed that more than half of the recruits around him were already tiring, slowing down and resting longer than they wanted. His strength and endurance was outlasting everyone he came across.

  Etyne Vorsen and Antuni Crommick felt as if they were the only ones pairing up to help one another out. They had paced themselves and reserved their energy by helping pull each other up over ledges and cliffs. The only reason the two of them bothered to take place in this competitive race to corporal rank was to ensure that those with terrible leadership skills weren’t going to be in charge of them. If Brisethi Sen Asel had followed behind them, they would have assisted her as well.

  Chief Renast chuckled as he casually climbed to start healing the unfortunate recruits who had taken a fall, sprained an ankle, or pulled a muscle. He was within a few paces of Brisethi who was flawlessly climbing another rope to a ledge that led to an ascending bridge.

  “It’s always cute when female recruits actually think they’ll succeed at Devastation,” he slandered. “You’re a follower, Sen Asel, get back to the bottom.”

  “That’s terribly rude” Brisethi apathetically replied as she pulled herself over the ledge. “What’s the matter, Chief? Your mother beat you as a child and now you’re afraid more women will become stronger than you?” She knew that would earn her a reprimand by morning but she was without discretion when it came to him. She hated Chief Renast’s impudence.

  “Maybe your father should have beat you for that mouth of yours. If I could reach you I would throw you off from that ledge, female.” He spat the last word like an insult.

  “Why don’t you try to catch me then?” Brisethi taunted and sprinted across a rickety bridge, disappearing into the shrubbery of the mountain. Her burst of energy quickly depleted, she leaned against the mountain face to examine her blistered feet. She moaned when she prodded them, testing how much more her feet could take. She mentally berated herself when she finally thought to wrap her arm hides around them.

  Sergeant First Class Vilkinsen stood to greet and congratulate the first Corporal of the night to reach him. “Well done, Corporal Trenn,” he patted Kanilas on his bare, painted shoulder.

  “That was too easy, Sergeant, give us an actual challenge next time,” Kanilas Trenn countered.

  Half an hour later, Antuni climbed the final ledge and pulled Etyne up after him. They were numbers two and three to reach Sergeant First Class Vilkinsen.

  “Ah, I knew the two of you would make it up here, Corporal Crommick and Corporal Vorsen,” Vilkinsen greeted, shaking their hands. Kanilas Trenn was the least bit thrilled to see them.

  “Is anyone even left down there?” Vilkinsen asked after another half of an hour went by with no one else turning up.

  “Yes,” replied Vorsen.

  “Nope!” shouted Trenn.

  “Yeah, everyone I’m going to be in charge of,” said Crommick,

  “Three yeses,” Vilkinsen grinned, pacing about the flat top of Mount Devastation. A single post atop the mountain hoisted the black Dominion banner, trimmed in scarlet with the ancient insignia stitched in gold thread. The Dominion symbol consisted of three falling stars crashing down to Falajen.

  “A volcano is just a mountain with hiccups,” joked the weary, intense voice of a female, peeking over the ledge of the dormant volcano. The sweat dripping down her face smeared most of her tribal paint. The intricate designs painted on her body were mostly smudged off or mixed with blood from various cuts of the climb. She pulled herself up with the last of her energy, straining her swollen muscles.

  “Ha, I thought Chief pushed you off the
mountain!” shouted Crommick as he walked over to congratulate Brisethi Sen Asel climbing onto the plateau with them.

  “Are you serious?” asked Trenn incredulously at the woman. “How?”

  Vilkinsen chuckled at her innocent joke, taking her hand to help her stand. “Congratulations, Corporal Sen Asel,” he smiled.

  Breathless, she thanked him, attempting to straighten out her fabricated native vestments. The sliver of both of Falajen’s moons shone enough light to portray Brisethi beaming with pride. She looked at the other three recruits that had made it before her, each of them shirtless but painted in black and white markings. Antuni’s dark skin had more white paint to stand out, while Etyne’s sienna skin was a mixture of both colors of paints. The paint and hides contrasting their skin colors have them looking as if they time-traveled from the second century, she thought, trying not to stare in reverence. Even Sergeant First Class Vilkinsen with his shaved head, sun-touched skin and slightly more elaborate hides and paints depicted a perfect image of their ancestors.

  The four new corporals followed Sergeant First Class Vilkinsen down the “easy” path to join the rest of the division down below. He was the only one who wasn’t weary and engaged conversation during the forty-five minute hike down. The historical tidbits the Sergeant First Class gave them were fascinating, but the recruit Corporals still had a hard time paying attention to him while navigating the path.

  The ceremony continued, prompting the new corporals to scavenge for whatever food had been left for them from the feast. Korteni ran up to her first friend, Brisethi, handing her some meats she had saved for her.

  “Thank you,” Brisethi gleefully told her.

  “Nope,” Chief Renast swiped the food from her hand, letting it fall to the ground. “You owe me,” he leered.

  Brisethi had to hold back the tears attempting to form in her eyes from such humiliation. She was famished, and wanted only to eat the spiced boar meat and drink refreshing water. Her blistered feet were throbbing and her muscles were sore from not only the climb but the past few days from every week they had intensely trained.