Silence followed for a moment until Joss summoned the courage to ask her one last question. “‘Sethi, do you think we can ever pick up where we left off? From before?”
“No,” Brisethi abruptly replied, knowing they hardly had a thing in common. After spending four years with men like Vorsen and Crommik; and women like Korteni and Ibrienne, her standards had changed in the kind of partner she would like. She sighed, remembering how long it had been since she was with Joss, let alone anyone. Her steely gray eyes met his soft brown ones. “I’d rather start over with you. We’re different than we were six years ago.” And slightly desperate, she admitted to herself.
He reached his hand over to hold hers. “Then let’s start over, ‘Sethi.”
She held onto his warm hand, flaring up emotions she thought she’d destroyed years ago. She looked up at the stars and the red planet, Renegade. She was always bemused that the two planets, one red and one blue, were named Renegade and Paragon, whereas Falajen, was the ancient Kiaran word for “neutral”. A memory struck her when she looked at a familiar winged beast of a constellation. “Joss, do you believe in dragons?”
“How many blows to the head did you take the past four years?” Joss teased.
“A few, but that’s not the point. Do you think dragons still exist?”
“They don't even teach children that our spirits descended from them anymore. Did dragons ever exist? Where are their skeletons? Why do we not have dragon claws and skulls to prove they ever existed?” He debated, his logical reasoning ever present.
“Because they die in volcanoes,” she mumbled.
Spirits of Falajen
Part II - Sacrifice of Souls
Chapter I
Despite doing nothing but relax for an entire month and rekindle a forgotten love with Joss, the leave went by quicker than Second Lieutenant Brisethi Sen Asel expected. She was early to her first day of officer training, sitting alone in the classroom and staring at the vaulted ceiling of one of the many Citadel schoolhouses. She let her mind go as her eyes drifted around the empty room, watching motes of light floating. Though her mind often wandered into voids of darkness, she told curious colleagues that she was meditating. The morning physical training she had started with the other ensigns and second lieutenants had left her exhausted after a month without the rigorous routine.
Second Lieutenant Etyne Vorsen materialized in the seat next to her. “Where is everyone?”
“Geez, Etyne!” she exclaimed, startled by his sneaky entrance, albeit excited to see him since they hadn’t had much opportunity to catch up during the early morning workout. “I don’t know, are we in the right class?” Other officers in training from that morning started to enter the room as if to answer her question. The two kept glancing at each person to see if they knew anyone else from their division. No one was recognizable and most of the junior officers were from prior divisions. Due to the incidents of both Division Thirty-Nine and Division Forty-One, this class was the smallest the Citadel had seen in centuries, containing only sixteen students - half of the usual attendance. Officer training was only held once every two years, offered only to those divisions that had graduated in that time. Brisethi and Etyne’s Division barely made the cutoff for the class.
After the class stated the Dominion Creed, the instructor wasted little time on introductions and almost immediately launched into a lecture on the syntactic structure differences between Resarian and other worldwide languages. Brisethi struggled to stay awake, stifling several yawns. Twice, Etyne had to knock her arm out from supporting her head so she wouldn't fall asleep. Mentally telling herself she’d beg Etyne for his notes later, she began to zone out again, ensuring she’d stay awake but not expending any more energy than she had to.
Each morning was spent partaking in arduous physical training, including long distance runs and calisthenics. Three days were spent in class learning more languages of the world, other countries’ histories, cultures, politics and economy. They learned how to break apart the military structure of each nation to initiate ingenuity among their own people by debating the merits of each organization. The engineering of the rest of the world was far more advanced than the Resarians, but, as Etyne had pointed out, the rest of the world didn’t have spirit mystics to make some things in life more convenient or destructive. Brisethi was particularly fascinated to learn that the Aspion Empire had invented a steam-powered engine that ran on rails, the Kiarans invented the steam-powered warships made of metal, and the Lantheuns had started experimenting with airships all within the last decade.
“So what the shit are we inventing?” Brisethi mumbled to Etyne. He stifled a laugh, wanting to prevent a reprimand from the naval commander instructor. Brisethi was already notorious for her terrible luck with naval superiors.
“Sen Asel,” Commander Olsine’s voice echoed.
“Yes, Ma’am,” she nervously stood at attention.
“Can you imagine a world where your father, Admiral Sen Asel, stationed upon a ship, could simultaneously communicate with General Satnir here in Res’Baveth in a matter of seconds? No telegraphs; waiting days for the messenger will be unheard of. Written letters replaced by instantaneous chatter with one another across hundreds of miles of sea?” The female commander kept her glare on the young Second Lieutenant.
“That would be spectacular, Ma’am,” Brisethi replied, waiting anxiously for the command that would send her into intensive training.
“Take your seat,” she ordered her. “Four years ago, I became separated from my division and met up with a squadron of Dominion soldiers patrolling the northern coast. They were escorting me to the northern post when we came upon a group of thirteen Kiaran marines. With only six of us versus thirteen of them, it would have been nice to have a device that could summon backup from the post. Instead, we risked the six of us to ensure the Kiarans were taken care of.” She lowered her collar to reveal the scar of a shot that grazed her during the event. “But at the cost of painful memories and the life of one of our own men.”
Brisethi sighed in relief, thankful to not receive reprimands for her inability to keep her mouth shut. Simultaneously, was unnerved by the commander’s story. She remembered hearing about the event on the first night of Expedition Training, anxious to receive weapons and defend her country. But within months, her mindset had reverted to wanting to reunite Sariadne’s natives instead of fending them off.
“Naval Captain Maerc Nessel is experimenting with such a device,” the Commander continued. “Using his precise mystic, he may have developed a way to send communications from one station to another wherever the mystically enhanced devices are installed. Within a few years, we will have the power to speak to one another across great distances as if we were conversing in the same room.”
Etyne and Brisethi were enthralled with the idea of their people finally creating something useful to the world. Several others in the class shared their enthusiasm and continued to spend breaks discussing the possibilities of such technology.
“We’d be able to talk to our families while we’re out in the field,” one of the other students said during one break. Brisethi scoffed, shooting a look at Etyne that clearly stated the soldier didn’t have his priorities straight. “What, Sen Asel?” the soldier said, “Just because everyone will be relieved when you leave doesn’t mean we all have that problem.”
Brisethi started to rise, but Etyne put a hand out to stop her, saying, “Why would the Dominion spend valuable resources on family communication when they could be used to alert others of an attack?” The question sparked a discussion on the potential distance covered and if the device could be intercepted.
Brisethi heard Etyne let out his breath quietly and looked at him questioningly. “You and your temper,” he muttered to her.
She pouted but said nothing, realizing he’d probably just saved her from a major misstep.
When the officers in training weren’t in class, they spent three days a week in the fie
ld to retrain their skills in weapons and combat by learning even more techniques in mystics and hand-to-hand combatives. They were instructed in ways to devise their own strategies against every possible tactic thrown against them. Brisethi had thought she and Etyne had been good before, but the skills they were instructed in during field training made their Expedition skills look clumsy and childish. Brisethi thoroughly enjoyed the field training, especially when they trained combat techniques on horseback, but she often struggled with her studies. She felt fortunate that Etyne had chosen to take up the commissioning schooling with her and offered to be her study partner. In addition, he suggested they continue to be combat partners as well.
“Aww, you can’t get enough of me,” she jested.
“I just want to make you cry,” he replied with his usual smirk.
“Good luck with that. I haven’t cried from physical pain since the first day I ever felt my yearly menstrual cramps,” she retorted.
“That’s gross,” he quipped, walking away from her in an effort to preserve some semblance of manly dignity.
“Hey are you going to join the command chel’kan team?” she asked, following after him.
“Yeah, are you?”
“Ha, no, I’m terrible at catching and throwing balls.” Brisethi kicked at a rock in the path that led to the citadel quarters. “But thanks to the years of training with you and Sergeant Vilkinsen, learning to deflect oncoming projectiles with my sword, I’m going to try out for command hak’ii, as the goalie,” she grinned.
Etyne tried to stifle an abrupt laugh, “I didn’t even know you could ice skate.”
-:- -:- -:-
“You seem out of it, Etyne. You haven’t even insulted me yet. What’s wrong with you?” Brisethi pestered him after their routine condition training spent in the gymnasium.
Etyne sighed, wondering if he even wanted to tell her of his personal life. Though they were nearing the end of their first month of officer training, spending a great quantity of time with one another, he rarely revealed personal matters to her. He glanced at Brisethi when she nagged him again before arriving at their respective quarters. “If you must know, my trust has been betrayed by Maranelle. She is four months with child.”
“You’re going to be a father? Already?” Brisethi grinned, disregarding the first part of his explanation.
“No, ‘Sethi, the child isn’t mine. We’ve only been back from Expedition for two months,” he restated for her, a slightly pained tone in his voice.
Brisethi covered her mouth with her hands as if to erase her former utterance. “Ohhh, Etyne, I’m so sorry,” she awkwardly patted him on the shoulder with her fingertips. “She couldn’t wait two more months for you to come home after waiting four years?”
“I kind of felt this coming from the vague, far and few between letters she had sent. I can’t be that upset with her for no longer wanting to wait, if she even waited at all” he muttered.
“But...you could have moved on ages ago instead of wasting so much time,” her voice trailed off. “Nevermind, though. Do you want to take it out on the ice? I don’t have practice until tomorrow night,” she grinned, wanting any excuse to test her skills in the only sport she was decent in. The aggressiveness of the ice sport motivated her to excel in the game.
“‘Sethi, you’re never getting me out on the ice, it’s just not in my blood to ice skate with a stick, chasing after a puck,” Etyne yawned from exhaustion.
“It’s in half your blood,” she shrugged, somewhat discouraged he wouldn’t join her in such an intensive sport for the command team.
When they parted ways for the evening to freshen up from training, Brisethi ran across the street to the general store, often frequented by the Dominion military personnel. She purchased a type of rum that was in a black-colored glass in the shape of a teardrop labeled, Siren’s Tears. “Well this is suitable,” she muttered to herself.
Etyne opened his door after the fifth round of obnoxious never-ending knocking from the other side. “What?”
Brisethi stared briefly at the unfamiliar sight of his shirtless chest, shoulders and arms before quickly looking up at his face, partly covered with dark wet hair. “Get your clothes on and follow me!” she excitedly ordered, holding up her prized bottle of rum.
“How did you know how to get up here?” Etyne asked when they reached the top of the highest tower of the Citadel overlooking the harbor.
Brisethi shrugged. “I sometimes explore when you’re out having dinner with - I mean, when you’re not here,” she corrected herself. She took a swig of the rum and handed it to him.
He consumed a fair amount before giving it back. “I suppose you and I were due for a night of drinking,” he exhaled sharply from the sting of the alcohol.
She smiled at him before taking another swig of the alcohol. Using her mystics, she started to create lines of red fire in the air, forming them into shapes of animals, flowers and even ships. It was a skill she could only show off while intoxicated. Soon, she was firing off her own mystic fireworks to amuse Etyne.
“You’re definitely better at lifting my spirit than Antuni ever was,” he said, watching in awe at the swirls of hundreds of tiny stars she was summoning.
“Oh yeah? Why is that?” she asked with amusement leaning over the ramparts.
“For one, he’s not a fire mystic,” he replied as another set of star-shaped tiny blasts went off over their heads. “For two, he usually only wants to hang out in taverns in search of single girls to take home if either of us are having a terrible day.”
“You don’t find that fun?” She tried to force her concentration on the dancing lights but let them fall after a moment.
“Not in the slightest. I prefer intelligent women found in libraries and colleges - I admire insight and learning from others,” he replied and finished their bottle off. “Though, I do miss Antuni, I feel I should thank you, Brisethi, for being a great friend.”
Brisethi remained silent at his words. She had never felt like she was the insightful type, nor did she admire reading non-fiction textbooks such as the intelligent women that Etyne spoke of. “I suppose I’m more of Joss’ type who would find someone like me in the taverns, laughing and dancing, attempting to carry a tune,” she nervously chuckled.
The sound of approaching guards startled them both from their quiet chatter. Brisethi led Etyne onto the roof of the tower in an attempt to remain stealthy but the guards were quick to spot them.
Laughing, she climbed and jumped to another rampart, sprinting in the dead of night to another tower. Etyne kept up with her, trying to not to lose his composure as well at the excitement of running from the guards.
“‘Sethi, where the fuck are we?” Etyne chuckled. Each time he looked up at the sky, or the ceiling when they were finally indoors, he had to hold on to Brisethi to keep from losing his balance. Both inebriated junior officers were completely lost, trying to regain their sense of balance and direction.
“Dammit, Etyne, you’re distracting me. Come on, I think - I think this corridor leads to our barracks,” she took his hand to urge him to stay close. They dodged another roving watch a few more corridors down until they finally found the floor and hall of their rooms.
“‘Sethi your room is over there,” Etyne attempted to guide her four doors down.
She searched every pocket then looked up at him with glossy eyes. “I lost my key!” She giggled.
“Of course you did,” he chuckled and brought her back to his room. He threw a small blanket over her on the chair she curled up in.
-:- -:- -:-
By their second year in officer training, Etyne and Brisethi had not only learned new combative stances from their trainers, but also taught each other several new fighting techniques. They would spend two evenings a week in the library researching the martial arts of the world, learning that only one other nation on the other side of the world outskilled the Resarians in hand-to-hand combatives. Considering the Dominion was the o
nly empire who consistently defended for over three-thousand years, they weren’t surprised to learn such global facts. They disciplined themselves to learn the foreign tactics from the diagrams in the classified books. Because the two friends held nothing back from one another when they fought, they were often used as examples for training during class and were commended on the new moves they improvised from what they learned.
“Roz!” shouted Etyne during one session when Brisethi was knocked unconscious from a blow she had brought upon herself. He caught her mid-fall and laid her gently on the grass.
“You two have my work cut out for me,” Acolyte Roz replied when he ran up for what seemed like the tenth time that week.
“I told her not to head-butt me, that she’d regret it,” Etyne replied, placing a hand over his own forehead feeling for the bump caused by Brisethi’s bony skull. His other hand held Brisethi’s wrist to ensure her pulse was steady.
“She has yet to knock you out, though,” Roz pointed out as he directed his spirit’s healing mystic on the unconscious Resarian.
“No, but she has dislocated my shoulder once, fractured my shin, a rib or two, my forearm, and stabbed me with a dagger down to the muscle in my back,” Etyne listed off. “If anything, we’re far from even.” He watched Roz mend the cut in her forehead before he moved on to tend to Etyne’s bloody forehead.
“And how many of her bones have you broken?” Roz asked.
Etyne didn’t answer right away. “She may have broken her ankle once or twice trying to crack my skull. She also might have broken her knuckles a few times trying to crack my skull. I’m pretty sure that’s it,” he finally replied.
“Spirits bless you two. One day I won’t be here, and you’re going to leave each other suffering in pain for an entire day,” Roz threatened lightheartedly.
Hours later Brisethi woke in her quarters with no memory of crawling into bed. She stretched her sore muscles, grasping at her chest and shoulders that were sculpted from her strength-training routines. She lit a lantern and placed a hand on her sore skull. A note waited for her on the desk with her favorite sweet pastry sitting on a small plate.
Spirits of Falajen Page 18
