Everything Begins

Chapter 19

“I have a question for you, Ga’briyel. Why are not there thousands of Anmah in the world? If you all live forever, should there not be more of you? As far as I know, there are not even hundreds, much less thousands.”

Frank smiled. “I asked Ma’ikel that when I was ten. It was then that he told me there are only two ways for an Anmah to die permanently.”

“You can die?” Dinton said incredulously.

“We can. One way is if we choose to do so, and only if it happens by our own hand. Ma’ikel said that most Anmah get tired of eternal life after a few centuries and kill themselves. The other way to die is at the hand of another Anmah. According to Ma’ikel, though, that has never happened. Also, a new Anmah is not created as often as people seem to think. Apparently, I am the first Anmah to appear in more than two hundred years.”

“How many of you are there now?”

“Ma’ikel says there are one hundred forty-three Anmah scattered across Duniya. Ma’ikel is the oldest at three thousand, six hundred and eighty-eight years old, and the next oldest is only a little less than a thousand years old. Most Anmah are three to five hundred years old.”

“Why would they choose to kill themselves?” Dinton frowned.

“Think about it,” Tero said softly. “Seeing everyone you love die over and over and over again. I cannot imagine I could deal with that for very long.”

Frank nodded. “That is one reason. Another is sheer boredom. After a few hundred years, an Anmah will have pretty much done everything and been everywhere. The only reason Ma’ikel is still around is that he has made the compiling of the history of the Anmah his life’s mission, and, since new things happen in this world every day, he says his mission will never be completed.”

“How does he know what happens in the world?” Tero asked. “I happen to know that there are Anmah as far away as the Mahasagara Ocean, and that is over a thousand leagues from Torkeln.”

“He has got a system of messengers—Anmah, humans, birds, you name it—and he gets reports just about every week from someone.”

“That is amazing.”

“It is,” Frank agreed. He looked at the other men. “Any more questions?”

“Just one,” Dinton said. “It was the Asabya who killed your people, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that is why you want revenge; I get that, but my question is this: What kind of revenge are you thinking about?”

Ga’briyel’s brow furrowed, and his eyes glowed in the darkness of the night that was now only lit by the dying fire. “I will wipe them from existence, just as they did to my people. When I am finished, the Asabya will only be a memory.”

“All of them? What about the women and children?”

“Did the Asabya spare me? My mother? No! They slaughtered us all! They showed us no mercy, and I will show them none!”

“Ga’briyel--”

“Enough, Dinton! I told you that they were not your concern, and they are not! You do not have to help me; I am perfectly capable of carrying out their destruction by myself.”

“But…children, Ga’briyel!”

“I was a child! I was six years old, and I had a sword driven through my chest! My four-year-old sister Emili was crushed! My sisters, Pala and Lisa, were eight and thirteen, and George was fifteen! They all had their bellies split open, but only after my sisters were raped! My friends were trampled, beaten, and stabbed to death! The Asabya did not spare the children of Desa, and I will not spare their children!”

Frank stood up abruptly and stalked to the stream where he knelt down, placed his fists on his knees, and bowed his head.

Dinton watched his friend carefully and dropped his voice. “Do you think he will really do it, Tero?”

“What? Kill children? I do not know. I know he says he will now, but actually doing it is different. He is angry, and I understand why, but I hope that he comes to realize that children should not be punished for the sins of their fathers.”

“I never knew…” Dinton heaved a sigh. “I never understood what he went through before he came to Torkeln. I have always been amazed by him, but now? Now I am in awe of him.”

“I would never tell him this, but so am I. Most adults would have lost their minds if they had to endure his trials, and he was just a small boy when those horrific things happened to him. I cannot even imagine what it was like.”

Dinton looked back at his friend who had not moved. “I am sure there are not many who can.”

“I am sure there are none who can,” Tero said, pulling his blanket roll from behind him. “He is unique, Dinton, and I am afraid that his uniqueness will force him to be alone much of his life.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because no one can understand him. Not only what has happened to him, but also how he thinks, how he lives. You know as well as I that there has not been a fighter like him in anyone’s memory. General Mistri and his wife have done their best to instill a sense of compassion and humanity in him, but I have a feeling that if he is not careful, his warrior side will override that part of him, and he will lose himself to the fighting.”

“Well,” Dinton said, rolling himself up in his blanket, “hopefully he can find someone who will make sure that does not happen.”

“Someone like a woman?” Tero chuckled.

“Exactly. A good woman could ground him and keep him from losing himself.”

“Frank Johnson and a woman. It is not easy to picture.”

“Oh, I can picture it just fine. There were plenty of girls in Torkeln who would have cut off their right arm for a night alone with him. He is a good-looking man, you know.”

“I know that. I also know that it never happened. I have never even seen him talk to a girl. His time has always been spent with his training and his books.”

“True, but that does not mean it cannot ever happen.”

Tero chuckled again and settled himself on the ground. “Well, may Yisu make it happen. It would do him good to have someone in his life.”

No more was said, and it was not long before the two men fell asleep, knowing that Frank would take the first watch.

He was, indeed, wide awake. He had shamelessly watched Dinton’s thoughts, and he was disturbed by them. He knew the girls in Torkeln were interested in him, of course, but he had ignored them. He had always been too busy training and studying to be interested in girls, but now he thought back to the comment his father had made that morning. Did he want love in his life? Would a woman who loved him keep him from turning into someone he would not like? Is that what his mother had meant? He did not want to lose his compassion, but Dinton’s questions about the Asabya children had caused him to do exactly that, and he had responded without thinking.

As he knelt by the stream, he pictured a little girl’s face in front of him and asked himself if he could really cut her down. He closed his eyes and once again he saw the slaughtered bodies in his village, and he wondered if he could really inflict that kind of destruction on women and children, even if they were Asabya. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes. What he had said to Dinton was in the heat of the moment, and now that he was calm, he knew that he could not do it. He could not kill a child just because of who his father happened to be. If he could, that would make him no better than the animals who had killed his people, and he was better than them.

With another sigh, he hauled himself to his feet and walked slowly back to the fire. He looked down at the sleeping men and then sat down, wrapped his arms around his knees, and stared into the glowing coals.

He was still there when the sun rose the next morning.

Dinton rubbed his eyes and sat up, frowning when he saw pale sunlight drifting through the trees. He looked around and saw Frank sitting by the fire, his brow furrowed, his arm around his legs, and his chin on his knees. It was not often that Dinton remembered that he was four years older than his friend, but this was one of those times. In that moment, Frank looked very young and very alone, and Dinton was about to ask him what was wrong when Frank turned his head and stared at him.

“I am fine, my friend. Just thinking.”

“About what? And why did you not wake me to take a turn at the watch?”

“I did not wake you because I wanted to think. I needed to straighten some things out in my head.”

“Like what?”

Instead of answering, Frank stretched out a hand and stirred something that was cooking in the pot over the fire. It smelled like porridge.

“You were right last night. I am not a killer of children or women. I spoke without thinking, and I am truly sorry for that.”

Dinton rolled up his blanket and moved to sit beside his friend. “You do not have to be sorry. Everyone says things they do not mean sometimes. I know my words made you angry, and I apologize. I did not realize how strong your hatred for the Asabya was.”

Frank shrugged, and his eyes glowed. “I am sure very few people are alive who have as much hatred for the Asabya as I have. If my village was any indication, they do not leave people alive to hate them.”

Tero stirred across the fire from them, and he sat up, wiping a hand across his face.

“Why did neither of you wake me for the watch?” he asked gruffly.

“Frank did not wake either of us,” Dinton said, glaring at his friend before speaking to him. “How do you expect to stay ready in the saddle if you do not sleep at night?”

Frank chuckled and stirred the porridge again. “Do not worry about me, Dinton. I do not need nearly as much sleep as you do. Ma’ikel tested me once when I was twelve. I stayed up for four days straight, and my reflexes and alertness had not been affected one bit.”

“Nevertheless, you do need sleep, do you not?”

“Of course I do. But one night of wakefulness will not hurt me. I will sleep tonight when we stop. You can take first watch just to make sure.”

Tero had rolled up his blanket, and he now held out three plates for Frank to fill. “And I will take second watch. Otherwise, you may decide not to wake me again.”