by Umut Ersezer
He reached his front door, staring at it. He had rushed to it, but now that he stood in front of it, he couldn’t bring himself to open the door. He breathed heavily, feeling his heart beating in his chest.
He could hear the fires crackling behind him, even bringing down some buildings. The heat around him was growing intense, he had sweat beading down his face. Volare hadn’t noticed clouds roll over the village. It started off as a trickle but grew into a downpour. The raindrops cooled his skin, soaking through his hair and clothes, yet Volare remained still, staring at the front door.
He was numb to the cold wetness of the rain. He inhaled deeply, took a step forward and pushed the door open. In the darkness, he saw two bodies lying on the floor. They were face down but appeared to be the size of his mother and brother.
“No,” Volare whimpered. “No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!!!”
He rushed forward touching his brother, he was motionless. Volare rolled him onto his back. His eyes and mouth were fixed open, lifeless, he died with a look of terror upon his face. He had a deep gash in his back and sides, but Volare didn’t look closer, he didn’t need to. He closed Amet’s eyes and jaw to give him a more peaceful appearance. He lifted his eyes to his mother, lying further into the hut.
She had been leading Amet to the bedroom with the trapdoor but she didn’t make it either. Volare walked to her and rolled her over. She had the same expression of horror written across her face. Volare brought peace upon it. Then he moved to his bedroom, wanting to get away from it all and sat staring into nothingness.
With a wave of emotion, he burst into tears, he held his face in his hands, crying into them. Tears the size of the raindrops falling on the roof, rolled down his face. He crumpled to the floor and curled himself into a ball. He wanted to disappear, vanish into nothingness so the pain would leave him be.
**
Several hours passed, Volare had not moved from his curled position on the floor. He had cried himself dry, there were no more tears left. What am I going to do? Where can I go? Volare had never felt this kind of pain, this kind of loss and despair in his life. He didn’t think such an emotion could exist.
The depth of his anguish seemed to have no bottom. He dared look at his family, lying there motionless in front of him. He kept expecting them to come back to life, he waited, but it didn’t happen. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare, his mother would shake him awake any second now. He closed his eyes, but when opened, his surroundings remained the same.
The rain outside stopped. It was silent. The fires had been extinguished. There must be someone who survived, anyone. Please. I can’t be alone here.
He walked over to the front door, careful to step around his mother and brother and threw it open. The fires were reduced to smouldering embers, barely providing enough light to see in front of him. He needed torches. He went back inside to gather two torches and light them. He stepped outside once more and called out.
“Is anyone out there!? Please answer me, they’re gone! “PLEASE IT’S JUST ME, IS SOMEONE OUT THERE!?”
He was met with only silence. Volare released a deep sigh. He looked up towards the cliffs where he had spotted the hooded figure. Maybe he knows what’s happening here, I need to find him. What if he sent those things?
Volare gritted his teeth and broke into a run towards the cliffs. He spent the next hour climbing hills and following ridges until he found himself on the highest cliff, where he had spotted the hooded figure. But there was nothing there. Not even footprints, he could follow. Did he vanish? What now?
His attention turned to the cliff’s edge. He walked to it, tiptoeing his way to the edge. He peered over, he knew the fall was deadly. Some children in years before were playing up here, and one of them fell to their death by accident, or so it was believed. The splash was heard throughout the village. Volare understood hitting the water from this height was like hitting rock.
The adults placed a ban on coming up here since then. Children broke the rule, of course, but the ones that were caught were punished with the hardest of chores and no play. He found himself still staring over the edge. It looked so calm in the darkness below, it was almost beckoning him. I have nothing left. Where can I go? Who can I talk to? There are monsters in the forests, I can’t go anywhere, I’m trapped. Tears started welling in his eyes once again, rolling down his cheeks.
He dropped his torches and hung his toes out from the edge, dangling in the air. He reached up and gripped his artefact tightly, feeling the warmth flow through him. It was not enough. Volare was on the precipice of ending his pain. It would be so easy, I just have to step out. Can I do this? I’ve always been a coward. I could never save anyone. I’m weak.
“Volare Fortem!” came a deep, booming and raspy voice into Volare’s mind. “Step back from the precipice.”
“Who’s there!?” Volare cried out, stepping back and reeling around to look. There was no one there.
“I am the god of the eshin and these lands. I have need of you Volare, come to me, for your journey is not at an end.”
Volare stepped away from the cliff edge, noticing now that his heart was racing.
“Where are you?”
“I am within your mind Volare, I communicate with you through the power of the metal device you carry. Return to your home, bury your loved ones, gather your things, for you must seek me out. Your journey is just beginning Volare Fortem,” boomed the voice.
** Chapter 11 **
Honour Haven
Trajan stood in the middle square of Honour Haven garrison, surrounded by barracks and merchant stalls. As the weeks passed the garrison was no longer just a position for soldiers to defend, it had grown into a garrison town. With merchants setting up stalls of food and wares, the garrisons on the western front were becoming self-sufficient enough to accommodate all kinds of trades to flourish.
Carpenters and stonemasons were building new housing for its occupants while strengthening Honour Haven’s walls and defences, enabling it to repel even the largest of onslaughts by the darkspawn.
Trajan was not wearing his black plate, he didn’t need to since the darkspawn only attacked at night. Instead, he wore a navy blue vest that buttoned up off-centre to the side, over a crisp white shirt tucked into charcoal cotton pants which in turn were also tucked into dark brown leather boots, with navy boot strings to tie them up. He wore a single shouldered cape which was navy silk on the inside but cotton on the outside. The textures and colours of his uniform were far more coordinated and eye-catching than the standard-issue non-combat uniforms the soldiers wore.
The soldiers wore plain black cotton pants and boots with a navy shirt. Each shirt and pants had a white pinstripe running the length of it, from the shoulder down to the boot. Trajan turning thirty-six years of age this year took pride in the appearance of himself and his men and kept strict protocols on dress and behaviour. He actively encouraged duelling in the training pits as it fostered competition and aggression amongst the soldiers, but punished unsanctioned brawls. He enjoyed the control he possessed over his subordinates and relished the opportunity to amass the most effective army in the kingdom.
Since his promotion to high commander, he commissioned the construction and import of massive weapons of war. Large ballistae stood atop tall stone towers that rained down giant arrows with a length of chain trailing them. The chain was there as a follow-up whip attack that would devastate the darkspawn. It also served to trip them up as they made their charge. He had tens of trebuchet machinery wheeled into position inside of the garrison walls. These would launch massive fireballs at the enemy arcing high into the air to come crashing down on the darkspawn. The fire itself would serve to not only burn but scare the creatures as well.
Trajan folded his muscular arms in front of him as he observed the latest group of wagons roll into the square. He eyed each individual, counting them, assessing where he could most effectively place them into his army. He counted roughly fifty new recruits an
d slaves here, some of them would prove to be more useful than others.
Bhogh approached Trajan on his horse, dismounting and handing off the reins to an attendant who would lead it to the stables to be taken care of. Warhorses were extremely valuable in the kingdom, in many respects worth more than the life of a human. They had been bred to be larger, faster and braver than ordinary horses. They would charge into battle, knocking down any who stood in their way, then trampling any that got underfoot. When a warhorse was outfitted with plate armour, they were a true vision of intimidation.
“High Commander Trajan, I’m here to report and deliver fifty-four recruits,” Commander Bhogh stated.
“Thank you, commander, you have done well. Were there any incidents of note to report?”
“Yes, sir, we were ambushed by a small swarm of darkspawn two nights ago. We dealt with them effectively but did lose six soldiers. We didn’t lose any recruits,” reported Bhogh.
“Hmm, troubling development, they seemed to have slipped through our lines. This is new. We will need to organise a greater roster of patrols and scouts throughout Dritura to ascertain their movements more precisely. I will report this to General Brite, thank you, commander,” Trajan said, concluding the conversation.
Bhogh bowed his head and returned to the wagons to help organise them into orderly rows.
“Captain Mitchim!” called Trajan, addressing his right-hand man. The brightest captains were taken on by commanders to assist them in their duties. It often accelerated the careers of captains for they received first-hand experience and mentorship from the commanders.
Captains were one rank below commanders, but it was thought of as the most challenging rank to ascend. A captain typically organised a small platoon on the field of battle but to manage a garrison of thousands of soldiers that needed housing, food and water was challenging to say the least.
Positions for command also rarely opened for commanders who strategized from a distance and were not directly involved in battle on the front lines unless absolutely needed.
Mitchim, who was in his late twenties, came running and saluted his commander. He was shorter than Trajan but shared many of Trajan’s physical characteristics. Perhaps Trajan saw a lot of himself in the young man which may have influenced his decision to take him on as his right-hand man. He wore the same uniform as Trajan, distinguishing himself from the rest of the captains, but his vest was olive green in colour, and he did not wear a cape.
“Sir,” he said.
“Usher the new recruits to stand before me, I will address them,” Trajan instructed.
“Yes, sir,” Mitchim said as he went to liaise with Bhogh.
“Captain Vix!” called Trajan.
“Yes, sir,” Vix replied as she approached and saluted her commander. Vix was the highest-ranked female soldier in Trajan’s army. She was a fiercely competent woman in her early thirties, sporting flowing red hair with strong facial features. Her uniform fit tightly against her toned body, she too took pride in looking sharp but also made an effort to maintain her feminine characteristics.
Her uniform was the same as a soldier, but her pinstripe was olive green, and she wore an olive green shawl cape. Many considered her to be a strikingly attractive woman, but all believed her to be brutal on the battlefield. She controlled respect from the soldiers, and her platoon had an exemplary record of success.
It was exceptionally rare for a woman to fight on the front lines but not forbidden, given they met the same physical standards and tests. The pool to select from was always tiny since only a fraction of the applicants into the military were women. But Vix had shined from the very beginning, not only demonstrating tremendous strength and courage but the tactical mind to be a potential leader.
“I will ask that you take charge with the female recruits once again. We need more cooks, drivers, doctors and scribes, but if you find strength amongst this bunch, I would also bolster my archers,” explained Trajan.
“Yes, sir,” replied Vix while saluting. She hurried off, gathering the women and leading them to the female side of the garrison.
Trajan had learned that living quarters needed to be separated in such confined and strenuous circumstances. The focus of the war would be lost to more base urges and instincts. A focus in which Trajan relied on, so he kept a close watch on the activities of his people. Romance was not forbidden, in fact, it often provided hope and positivity, but it could also interfere with duties.
Worse still, breakups could cause drama lasting for weeks and months. Trajan hated this kind of a mess of emotions during wartime, he would seek to minimise it.
The men were gathered and lined up in front of Trajan by Bhogh. Trajan looked each man up and down, taking in what he had to work with.
“I am High Commander Trajan, I may have already met some of you in a recent visit to your town or village. I have come to learn that you have already seen what we fight against. The king has indeed labelled this time as the darkspawn war, you are now recruited into this war.”
There was a shuffling and murmuring in the crowd as they absorbed what Trajan was saying.
“I understand the circumstances in which you have arrived here have been less than pleasant and I am regretful of this.”
The men remained quiet, they lacked the energy or will to resist, all of them were exhausted and starving. Trajan feigned his regret, but the conditions of these men arriving in this state was intentional. Trajan would be the one to bathe, clothe and feed them, Trajan would be their saviour.
“In your barracks, you will find clean clothes, freshwater, warm food and a soft bed to recover from your ordeal. I would recommend you take full advantage of my offerings because come tomorrow, training will begin. It will be gruelling, especially for those of you who have never served before, but the situation is desperate. The darkspawn continue to harass our borders, and while we hold them now, we must push back to defeat them. We need you for this. I need you to be the best soldier you can be. There will come a time where you stand with a sword and shield next to your friend, you will have to defend his life and he, yours. You will witness combat, blood and death, but you will fight on. If you do not fight, you will be considered a deserter and treated as such. For those of you who don’t know, the punishment is death by torture. If we lose this war, the punishment is death for not only yourself but that of everybody you have left behind. We fight for them. We fight for Dritura. We fight for the kingdom. If we don’t fight, we lose it all, these are the stakes.”
Trajan’s speech resonated with the crowd. He could sense he had won over at least some of them. One man stepped forward.
“Why did you not tell us this in the first place commander, why not reveal this truth before the kidnappings?” asked Calidum.
The crowd quietly gasped at the surprise of one of them questioning the commander. Trajan drew breath, he respected the man for his courage but noted him mentally for potential trouble or insubordination. Trajan remembered this man from Vicus, he would keep a close eye on him.
“A fair question, and who might you be? asked Trajan.
“I am Calidum Fortem of Vicus. You personally took many from my village without revealing this truth, I would know why?”
“Yes, I remember, Calidum, I did not enjoy that day, but my need remains great for we cannot fail. It is true we face an enemy, I did not lie in that regard. But it is also true that I did not reveal the nature of what we face. The fact is most would not enlist if given the truth of fighting these darkspawn creatures instead of men, hoping for others to do the fighting on their behalf. We have tried to keep this secret to avoid panic amongst the people, but rumours are already in circulation and the time has come for us all to face it. If we are to win this war, we must attribute the appropriate resources. I had to take what I needed. The king is also sourcing additional troops and supplies from the motherland in Ozos, transporting them here. Soon we will gather an unstoppable force to march upon the darkspawn and destroy them. You
have an important role to play in this war,” Trajan said, raising his voice while pointing to the crowd. “Fight well, and you will return to a home that is safer in the future than it is today, that is my promise to you,” Trajan said.
Calidum wasn’t satisfied with what Trajan was trying to explain, and his instincts still nagged at him. Something wasn’t quite right, he still felt like Trajan was leaving out details. He decided to not press further at this instance, the truth will reveal itself in time. Calidum just hoped it was revealed before it was too late.
Trajan observed Calidum intently as he stepped back into line with the group. Trajan felt satisfied with his speech, he had delivered it several times now. Most of the men were looking down at their feet, avoiding his eye contact, except for Calidum. These men were not soldiers, but that was okay, Trajan didn’t need them to be soldiers. He needed them to distract so that his skilled men would be even more deadly. Trajan would not share this truth with them, they will find out for themselves soon enough.
“Captain Mitchim, these men are now in your command. Perform their induction into garrison life and delegate them into platoons as you see fit. Their training starts tomorrow morning, ensure the chief of weapons is ready to arm these men, and the sword masters are ready to deliver lesson,” instructed Trajan.
“Yes, sir. With me, men!” called out Mitchim, instructing the new recruits to follow him to their barracks. None openly resisted, and all did as they were told to.
Trajan retired to his personal barracks and took a seat at his desk. His personal assistant entered shortly after with a jug of wine. Drinking alcohol was forbidden in the garrison, many requested it, but Trajan refused.
Some garrisons that allowed a glass of ale to their soldiers during the day with the meals but Trajan wouldn’t risk drunken soldiers undertaking battle. He was determined to hold his men to a higher standard.
