They were still a good distance from camp when Etyne, with his impeccable vision, spotted something half-hidden in the sand, glistening in the fading light. He broke away from the group to hike toward the edge of the dune to investigate the source of the shiny object. He knelt down and wiped sand away from the object before him. “By Falajen’s spirits,” he whispered.
“That’s our insignia,” Brisethi observed, having followed him up the dune. The gold emblem of a Dominion leather uniform glinted.
Etyne swept more of the sand away, uncovering a uniform still worn by a dead soldier. The sand and uniform preserved much of the body, but they couldn’t recognize the face. The desert heat and wind had given it an almost mummified look. They searched for the division patch instead. “It’s not our scout’s, but it is a member of Division Thirty-Nine,” he concluded.
He stood up to climb the rest of the dune up to its peak, the rest of the group joining him. His jaw slackened with horror when he discovered the dozens of half-buried Dominion Soldiers in the small valley of the dunes. The others froze at the sight. Etyne shuffled down the sand to investigate the scene, covering his mouth and nose with his hood to alleviate the smell of decay. “I think this is all of them. But if they’re in the desert, why are they in their leather uniforms?” he asked no one in particular.
“They weren’t supposed to be here, they were supposed to meet with us near the Veretian Shore over a year ago,” Brisethi reminded him. “Have they been dead a whole year?”
Ibrienne pulled her growing light brown hair back from her face to observe a few of the bodies. “I’d say they have,” she said. “They’ve been scavenged badly, so it’s hard to tell what killed them.” She gave one a closer examination. “None of the bones were fractured, though, and the skull is still in place, so I don’t think it could have been battle.” She waved a hand over the body, closing her eyes in concentration. “It wasn’t natural causes or starvation, or heat exhaustion,” she continued.
Sulica scoffed and crossed her arms. “How can you tell that at all? They’re nearly skeletons.” She twisted her mouth in disgust.
“It’s what healers do,” Ibrienne replied patiently. “Just like Sergeant Sen Asel, I had to learn at a young age to summon my spirit’s mystic. I can determine what pains a vessel. After death, our spirits leave the vessel with a sort of… impression of why the spirit left. This one here,” she continued and squatted down, “was boiled from inside.”
“How? By who? All of them? And why are they down here? Is this the entire division?” The questions poured from Brisethi’s mouth before she realized no one else could even begin to solve the mystery.
“Does it look like any of us know any more than you, Sethi?” Antuni replied.
Ibrienne studied another corpse. An image left by the dead female’s spirit sent Ibrienne into a fearsome shock. She let out a small shriek and fell backward, covering her eyes. “How can that be? They don't exist anymore,” she mumbled.
“What don't exist anymore?” asked Etyne, crouching next to Ibrienne.
Ibrienne sat up then stared blankly ahead before relaying one word, “Dragons.”
Brisethi’s eyes lit up at hearing that word. “A dragon did this?” She tried not to sound too excited lest she come across as unsympathetic for the loss of an entire Dominion division.
“That's impossible, you're very much mistaken, Ibrienne,” Sulica retorted. “We wouldn't embody their mystical spirits if they were still alive today. They died tens of thousands of years ago. They're all dead.”
“Except that they're not,” replied Brisethi. She impulsively believed what Ibrienne saw. She unhinged her bow from her back piece and removed an arrow from her quiver. “Do you know what this means?” she didn't give them a chance to reply before answering her own question, “we're going to hunt down a dragon!”
“Uh, yeah no, ‘Sethi. Last I checked, I’m not fire proof, nor invulnerable to being mauled. And you know what mythical dragons do? Burn and maul shit. You’re on your own for that,” Antuni remarked, scurrying back up the dune in the direction toward camp with Sulica at his heels. Korteni and Ibrienne quickly followed.
“We're not chasing dragons. We need to get going and report this to Sergeant First Class. If he wants us to hunt down this mystical creature, then we will,” ordered Etyne.
Brisethi shared a look with Etyne as they both shivered when the sun dipped below the horizon. The chill of the desert night enhanced by the thought of a predator dragon in their vicinity sent them racing one another up the dunes. The night was clear without moons or neighboring planets. Though the sand was rough to run in, their light and airy uniforms and added adrenaline made sprinting a rush to their senses. They sprinted over dozens of sand dunes, slowing to catch their breath. Both sergeants paused when stars shot across the clear night sky.
“Quick, make a wish!” Brisethi panted.
Any other day, Etyne would never oblige to such a childish request. But the crisp night air sheltering endless desert sand dunes made him in no rush to sleep in his tent. He thought of a wish, then waited for her to stop staring at the sky. He watched her face completely spellbound with the stars above.
“What did you wish?” she finally pulled herself away from staring at the sky.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true,” he replied, continuing their journey back to camp.
“You don’t strike me as someone that believes such nonsense,” Brisethi retorted.
“You first,” he said to her.
She understood what he was asking of her and smiled. “I wished to become the ruler of the world.”
Etyne stifled a laugh. It was horrible of him to doubt her ambitions and instantly felt a pang of regret for portraying it. “I wished that I could live forever, so that I can overthrow you as an even better ruler of the world.”
“Ha, good luck!”
-:- -:- -:-
Immediately after hearing the news, Sergeant Vilkinsen assigned Brisethi to write everything down so that he would be able to send the memorandum out the next time a messenger found them, or if they traveled near a village. Resarian military officials and agents would then be sent to remove the bodies for proper investigations and burials.
“We should avenge their deaths, Sergeant!” Brisethi persisted.
“Sen Asel, if that much bigger group of recruits couldn't survive these so called dragons then what makes you think we can?” Vilkinsen asked.
Brisethi knew he was right but pressed on anyway. “They clearly didn't have a powerful enough mystic to overcome them.”
“They had Lieutenant Sarion, an air mystic who could create thunderstorms. Your lava from the earth won't do much against a flying beast,” Vilkinsen replied once more.
She finally ceded to his logical decision.
“Don't write that we're assuming a dragon did this. Though I don't doubt Ibrienne’s mystics, I can't have reports based off of visions. Once the division learns to use their mystics, maybe we'll go after this dragon,” Vilkinsen reassured her.
“Promise?” she grinned.
“No,” he shortly replied and ordered her to get back to her tent.
“I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again knowing there’s dragons out there waiting to eat us,” Korteni whimpered later as she dimmed the lantern light of their tent.
“I’ll protect us,” Brisethi mumbled, already falling asleep in her bedroll as if it were just another normal day.
-:- -:- -:-
The daily routine consisted of a morning run, strength training, and language or military history lessons, after which the recruits were placed into groups of four to refresh training in group combat. Vorsen and Crommik led their own groups, each person in the team taking turns to take on the other three. Brisethi happily took up the opportunity to team up with Korteni, Ibrienne and Sulica to show them Vilkinsen’s new techniques. The teams would remain fighting each other for one month, then go against other teams the following month. First, they would l
earn each other’s strengths and weaknesses, then use those against other groups to work as a team. Vilkinsen informed them that once they learned to use their mystics, the teams would form again and repeat the process, but with focus on mystics.
Vorsen had no trouble motivating the men in his team to attack him - two of them still had bitter feelings about him as the only half-Kiaran. The third recruit in his team was a quiet type, timid, and often had to be prodded to attack anyone.
The men took the opportunity of the heat to remove their shirts. Fortunately for the half-Kiaran, his skin wasn’t as susceptible to sun burns as the Resarians’ fair skin, nor was Crommick’s dark skin which only became darker in the sun. Sweat dripped down their entire bodies from the desert sun as Vorsen sidestepped in the sand, dodging the two men’s vicious attacks. He had memorized the specific tactics taught to him by Vilkinsen when each recruit had a chance for one-on-one training for four consecutive days since their sixth month in the Expedition. Vorsen successfully defeated the two attackers by disarming their swords, daggers, then finishing one with a blow to the head, and the other in a headlock. They were in need of a break as Vorsen took his time with the third recruit, Zinny.
“Come on Zinny, imagine I’m a full-blooded Kiaran who just attacked your hometown,” Vorsen teased.
“Sergeant…” Zinny’s voice cracked. The grip on his sword was turning his knuckles white. As if fighting his drill instructor last year wasn’t terrifying enough, he now had to fight the second biggest man in the division, the half-Kiaran with a heart of gold. “I can’t attack you, Sergeant...it’s, not right.”
Vorsen leapt toward him, shoving him rather hard. “I said fucking attack me!”
Zinny raised his sword in an attempt to block, only to drop it in fright. The other two recruits chuckled at the unfortunate man, leaning back in the sand dune and taking in the sun rays.
“Zinny, what is your biggest fear? Pretend I’m that fear and face me, dammit!” Vorsen was losing his patience. He had sparred with the thin man before, back when they first learned basic defensive skills and everyone was lower than corporal. Now that Vorsen was one of three sergeants, he felt it was his duty to ensure any recruit he teamed with would successfully fight against him.
Zinny would never reveal to anyone what he feared. He had already lived it and felt he would never recover from the trauma of his childhood. He had a difficult time trying to imagine that Vorsen could ever relate to anything similar to the man who had assaulted him at the age of twelve.
“Poor little Zinny can’t keep his sword up - probably can’t keep his pecker up either,” laughed the other recruits of his team. For once, Vorsen was encouraging them to keep the insults coming if only to fuel Zinny’s inner rage.
The insults kept rolling in, helping Zinny to see his childhood attacker in them. The other two only wanted to see him cry, but Vorsen wanted to see him angry.
“Haha, look at him, he looks like a child about to get raped by the big, scary Kiaran!” shouted the other recruit.
Zinny was triggered. With a battle roar, Zinny charged after Vorsen. But instead of attacking him, he used a move that slid him into Vorsen, landing him to his face as Zinny twisted to the other two. They saw him coming at him and leapt to their feet into a fighting stance. Zinny swung his dull, training sword at them. Had it not been a training sword, the men would have been decapitated. As it was, they would still need treatment from Ibrienne when the session was over.
Wiping the sand from his face and remaining on his knees, Vorsen cheered on Zinny. He had succeeded at getting him to attack and even properly conduct combat moves they were trained to use.
Korteni had no trouble attacking Brisethi. She loved the challenge and enjoyed learning new tactics thrown at her. She knew that her dear friend took advantage of a good spar as well and could take the beating.
Sulica, slightly intimidated by Brisethi’s strength, took advantage of the three versus one by standing back to observe each of the other three young women. Ibrienne was a good distraction, allowing Sulica to land in a few hits to Brisethi’s flawless face. It took all three of them, but they were finally able to disarm Brisethi nearly an hour after they had each lost their weapons to her first. Ibrienne was the first to tire and sit out as she watched Korteni start to slow, finally joining Ibrienne a half hour later.
Since Sulica was storing her strength and energy while the other two tired Brisethi out, it was her chance to attempt to defeat her.
“Let’s dance, Sulica, show me what you got,” Brisethi taunted, breathing heavily. The girls were drenched in sweat and had removed their sun-protecting outer layer, wearing only their sleeveless undershirts and airy pants. Sulica charged, but was met with Brisethi’s bare foot to her abdomen. “Again!” she shouted to her.
“I hate you so fucking much,” Sulica replied with a quick recovery. “Why don’t you fucking charge at me for once, you twat!?”
Without a word, Brisethi burst into motion. She knew that Sulica would imitate Brisethi’s last move, anticipating the bare foot she brought up in an attempt to kick her. She grabbed her foot, twisting it, forcing Sulica to twist her leg and her body the way she was taught to prevent injury. She fell to her back and turned her legs, tripping Brisethi. She heard her laugh, actually enjoying falling to her face. Sulica could tell Brisethi was weary and kept her attacks on her.
Every evening of combat training that month ended the same way - Sulica reserving her energy while allowing Korteni and Ibrienne to exert their own against Brisethi. The three could not take her down. Finally, the last day arrived of inner group sparring before the groups would face off against each other. Sulica was determined to defeat Brisethi.
The sun had long set when the two were still fighting. Both women were sore, weary, dehydrated and hungry. Most of the division flocked to the girls to watch such a vicious, blood-drawing spar. Vilkinsen had Ibrienne standing by in the event one of them would seriously hurt the other. Neither Brisethi or Sulica held anything back.
Brisethi felt one of her ribs crack when she foolishly misjudged a quick fist, followed by an even quicker foot to her torso. Half excited that Sulica mastered that move while half in cringing pain, she grinned, trying to deflect her adversary’s rage. Both moons, in addition to both the red and the blue planet reflected the sun’s light to shine bright in the first hour of night’s morning. Every recruit was wide awake atop the dunes watching the two still going at it. Sulica’s wrist and ankle were surely dislocated, but she was certain she had fractured Brisethi’s ribs and shins. They couldn’t tell if they were numb from adrenaline or shock, or if Ibrienne was secretly numbing the pain for them. Blood mixed with sweat covered them from head to toe. Sand stuck to their wet skin. Brisethi could go on no more. She wasn’t fueled by rage the way Sulica was. She fell into sand, dampened by blood, when Sulica with all of her rage and adrenaline, landed a final blow to the side of her head.
Sulica fell to her knees. She had finally defeated Brisethi.
Ibrienne rushed to them both, using her mystic to set their bones, repair their fractures, and seal their open wounds as quickly as possible. She had Vilkinsen order them both to stay in their quarters the entire next day to allow Ibrienne’s mystics to fully heal both Brisethi’s and Sulica’s wounds. By the time she had finished with them, even Ibrienne was ordered to remain in quarters to rest.
Etyne and Antuni were allowed to visit the girls in their bedrolls in their ventilated tent the next afternoon.
“Antuni!” Sulica shouted in excitement at seeing her man. He gave her a gentle hug, congratulating her on defeating Brisethi. He held her hand, landing a kiss on the top, but she brought him in for a more passionate kiss despite her busted lip, black eye and darkened cheek.
“Awwwww,” Brisethi exaggerated with mock tone. “So where the fuck is my kiss, Vorsen?” she joked. The already hot day suddenly felt hotter to her when she realized what she’d said.
Etyne let out a small chuckle as he sat be
side her, unsure of how to actually greet her. He tried not to stare at her black eye, her swollen lip and bruised side of her cheek, appearing to be almost a darker-haired twin to Sulica. He didn’t view her defeat as a failure, but as a victory, that she had been able to train her friends the way Vilkinsen trained them. He wanted to let her know that much. “How are you feeling, Sen Asel?” He casually asked with sincere concern, the corner of his mouth curling upwards.
“Ibrienne’s healing is impeccable - I’m barely sore,” Brisethi revealed, holding her bruised knuckles up to him where one was once fractured.
He took one of her hands into his, gently running his fingers over her knuckles, testing her current pain threshold. “I’m proud of you,” he softly said. “Does that hurt?” he asked, pressing ever so gently on the darkest part of her hands.
“Psh, no,” she stated with confidence.
He pressed harder and watched her flinch. “Sorry,” he smirked, “not really,” he added. The moaning of Sulica and Antuni behind him was distracting and awkward. He hoped to the spirits their clothes were still on and didn’t want to risk turning and seeing something he couldn’t unsee. Instead, he watched Brisethi’s eyes glance over to them, also hoping they were ready to stop.
“Do you guys fucking mind?! I’m trying to heal over here!” Brisethi blurted out in hopes Etyne wouldn’t leave her so soon.
Antuni chuckled and picked Sulica up to sneak her to a private spot - if there was such a thing.
“I almost got Zinny to defeat me,” Etyne continued. “I showed him some new strength training techniques that Antuni and I perform weekly, and hopefully he’ll stick to them.”
Brisethi’s eyes diverted to his shoulders contoured through their thin, red uniforms. “I’d like to learn this technique of yours,” she smiled, attempting to sit up. She gasped at the sharp pain in her side.
Spirits of Falajen Page 10
