Everything Begins

Chapter 16

Frank 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 Frank 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?”

Frank 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,” Frank 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, Frank 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 Frank 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 Frank 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.”

“Ga’briyel, stop doing that and talk to me.”

“I have nothing more to say, Father. I am going, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Jarda ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“What did your mother say about this?”

“She was as happy about it as you are, but even that is not going to change my mind.”

Frank continued filling his saddlebags without even a glance at his father, for he knew that if he saw the devastation on Jarda’s face one more time, he just might change his mind, and he did not want to do that.

“Then Dinton and Tero will go with you.”

This time it was Frank who sighed, but it was in frustration. He whirled around and scowled. “This is my fight, General! Not yours, not Dinton’s, and not Tero’s! No one’s but mine! It was my people they slaughtered!”

Jarda returned the scowl and stepped close to his son. He had to look up almost a hand to meet his gaze, but General Mistri had lost none of his authoritative demeanor over the last fifteen years, despite the strands of gray in his dark hair.

“You forget yourself, Captain,” Jarda said slowly. “I am still your father, and I am still your general. If I so choose, I can force you to stay, and you know that.”

Frank held his father’s stare for a moment, but then he dropped his eyes. “Yes, sir, I know that.” He took a step backward, sat on the edge of his bed, and raised his eyes once again to Jarda. “You have to understand, Father. I do not want anyone to get hurt because of me. I will be safe, but I cannot be responsible for someone else.”

Jarda sat down beside him. “So, does that mean you are going to be alone all your life? Someday you will have to have people around you, and you will run the risk that they will get hurt or die.”

Frank frowned. “Not until I am finished. I may die again in the next few years, perhaps several times, but I do not care. I will not stop until every Asabya is gone. I will wipe them from existence.”

Jarda studied his son. Violet eyes were shining with the power of his conviction, and Ga’briyel’s hands were clenched tightly in his lap.

“Regardless of what you want,” Jarda said, “Dinton and Tero will go with you.” He held up a finger when his son opened his mouth. “No arguments. It is either that or you stay here. Take your pick.”

“Why must they come?”

“Because it is not good for a man to be alone for too long. We all need companionship, and if I let you leave by yourself, I know you will not seek it out. You are already good friends with Dinton, and he will give you someone to talk to. Tero has more experience with people and combat than you do, and he knows a lot of the world. Listen to him and to his advice. He is a wise man.”