All Things Begin - The Anmah Series Book 1

Fingering his sheathed sword’s hilt, Ga’briyel waited in the east entrance to the town as the sun set behind him, casting his shadow onto the ground in front of him. He had not been able to eat much for last meal, but he had forced himself to eat something, even though nothing had had much taste. He was already tired. Tired of killing, tired of blood, tired of pain. He wanted some peace, but he knew that there were at least three more raiding parties out there somewhere. He almost hoped they heard about what was happening in Grama and decided not to come home, but that would mean he would have to hunt them down and kill them somewhere else. They would be free to kill and raid and destroy people’s lives until he found them, so, as much as he hated the idea, he would have to wait in the town for them to show up.

For now, though, he was waiting for the first of the two parties that he knew were coming. The only bright spot in his situation was that it was just men returning to the town. No Daitya and no Azazil. Telantes had told him he could have stopped the Azazil if he had had warning, but the Debaduta had not said how. Ga’briyel would have to ask Nikale about that. Tomorrow.

Only a few more minutes passed before Ga’briyel heard the sounds that indicated a large group of men approaching the town from the east. He sighed heavily, drew his sword, and waited. He knew the instant they saw the mound of burnt corpses, for their casual conversation, which had drifted toward the town on the wind that had picked up during last meal, changed to shouts of disbelief and anger. Their booted feet raced toward the town, and when the first Asabya saw Ga’briyel, he shouted for the others to stop. They did, and Ga’briyel saw that they also had their swords in hand.

This was the group of ten, and the Anmah simply stood silently and watched them as they spread out on the path, forming a deep arc. Then one stepped forward and gestured toward Ga’briyel with his sword.

“You are not Asabya. Who are you?”

“I am the one who killed those men you passed. Well, most of them, anyway.” Ga’briyel sounded bored, and that was fitting, for he was. Bored and tired. He had killed so many men in the past few days that these ten seemed a nuisance only. One to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

“And the women and children? Did you kill them, too?”

“No, Dahaka and his men did that. I killed them for it.”

“By yourself?” The Asabya laughed. “Impossible! The Asabya are the greatest swordsmen in the world! How many others helped you?”

“If you must know, two. But between them, they only killed eight of those horesons out there. I killed the rest, and I will kill you, too. Greatest swordsmen or not.”

The Asabya all growled and set their stances. The one who had spoken stared at Ga’briyel for a moment, and then he sheathed his sword. The others looked at him in shock and then did the same. Ga’briyel frowned and kept his in his hand.

“I believe you,” the leader said with an ingratiating smile. “There is no need to kill us. We will come with you peacefully, and we can talk.”

“In that you are wrong,” Ga’briyel said slowly. “Your men slaughtered everyone in my village, and I have sworn that all Asabya who have killed another will die. That includes you.”

“And if I told you that we have killed no one? What then?”

“Then I would call you a liar and kill you anyway.” That was not a guess. Ga’briyel could feel lies as well as he could hatred or fear. They pricked at his skin like jonaki bugs, leaving the same fiery pain behind. The pain was brief, and he had learned to bear it, but there was no mistaking the sensation. “I know all of you have killed, whether it was a slave at your Feast of Yud’dha or an entire village.” Ga’briyel twirled his sword, and the leader swiftly drew his sword again.

“Well, I tried,” he said, his smile turning into a snarl. “I feel sorry for you, boy.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because we all know how to kill you slowly and extremely painfully. This will not be a quick death for you.” He looked around at his men, and they all nodded as they moved toward the Anmah, drawing their swords as they moved.

“You are right about that,” Ga’briyel said as he waited for the man to attack. “For I will not die at all. I, however, will be merciful and kill you quickly. There is no need for you to suffer more than necessary.”

At that, the leader roared and rushed forward, his sword aimed directly at Ga’briyel’s heart. The other nine men joined him, and for the next quarter of an hour, the only sounds were those of blades clashing, flesh tearing, and men screaming in pain. As usual, the leader proved to be the best swordsman of them all, and he was the last one standing, although he was bleeding from several wounds. Amazingly enough, so was Ga’briyel. There had simply been too many blades for him to block them all, and he had one deep cut across his left bicep, a shallower one along his ribs, and two mere scratches—one across his cheek, and the other along his left thigh. They hurt, but he was able to ignore them.

The leader was still attempting to kill him, but the Asabya was getting weaker by the minute due to the pain and loss of blood. It only took a few more moments before he gave a shout and tried to separate Ga’briyel’s head from his shoulders. The Anmah easily blocked the swing, pivoted on his left foot, brought his own sword around, and watched as the man’s head flew through the air and landed half a pace away as the body fell to the ground with a dull thud.

“Finally,” Ga’briyel muttered, and he dropped to one knee to clean his sword on the dead man’s tunic. He had just finished when he heard rustling in the trees to the east. “Snakes and trolls! Not already.” He slowly stood and set his feet again as he raised his sword and waited for the second raiding party to appear. He was shocked, therefore, when three small figures made their way toward him out of the forest. He quickly sheathed his sword, and the three tiny girls froze as they took in the sight of the dead men around them.

They could not have been more than four or five years old, and Ga’briyel immediately dropped back down on one knee and crooked his finger at them. “Come here,” he said gently, but they shied away from him as they clung to each other and shook their heads as one. “Come on. I will not hurt you.” They obviously did not believe him, and he could easily see why. All three were bruised and bloodied. The largest of the three, which meant she was a little over a pace tall, had a black eye and a split bottom lip. The other two had bruises around their wrists and ankles, and their lips were bleeding as well. All three were dressed in tunics that barely covered them, and Ga’briyel only just managed to keep his eyes from flaring with disgust and fury.

“Please,” he said, holding out his left hand. “Let me help you. I will make sure you are never hurt again. Will you trust me?”

The little ones glanced at each other, and then the larger took a tentative step forward, carefully avoiding the bodies and the pools of blood on the ground. The other two clung to her and moved with her, but it still took several minutes before the three were standing in front of him. He kept his hand out, and the girl slowly put her hand in his. He gently squeezed it and smiled at her, even as he boiled with rage inside.

“What is your name, little one?”

“Nayna, sir,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fright.

“And these two? What are their names?”

“Wamil and Heena, sir.” Her voice was a whisper as she pointed to them.

“How old are you three, Nayna?”

“I just had my fifth naming-day a moon ago, sir, Wamil is four, and Heena’s fourth naming-day is next moon.”

“Are you all from the same town?”

“We are from the same village, sir. It is called Lalon, but we cannot go back there.”

“Why not?” Ga’briyel wanted to keep her talking even though he knew the answer to his question.

A tear ran down Nayna’s cheek as she dropped her head and mumbled, “Because our families are all dead.”

“How do you know that? Did you see them?”

“Yes, sir.” She pointed a tiny finger toward the Asabya whose head was no longer attached to his body. “That man made sure that we saw our babas and mamas and brothers and sisters dead before he took us from Lalon.” She caught her breath and let out a small sob. “He told us on the way here that we were slaves now and had to do what he said, and he hurt us when we did not.”

Ga’briyel raised his right hand and gently ran his thumb along Nayna’s swollen cheek. She gasped but did not pull away. “Is this all he did?”

She shook her head, and the other two whimpered and crowded even closer to her. The rage inside Ga’briyel bubbled over into a storm that he tried to keep off his face, but he could not keep his eyes from flashing brightly. Nayna took a step backward with a cry and almost fell over the others. Ga’briyel sighed and closed his eyes.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I did not mean to scare you. Come on.” He stood up, still holding onto the little hand. “I will take you to someone who can help you.”

They had only taken a few steps when Heena stumbled and fell to her knees. Ga’briyel scooped her up and held her close to his chest. “It is all right, little one. No one will hurt you again.” Her little arms went around his neck, and she rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. He had taken another step when he felt a tug on his breeches. He looked down, and Wamil was staring up at him, a wistful look in her eyes. He smiled, shifted Heena to one arm, bent down, and picked up Wamil. They both weighed next to nothing, and he had no trouble carrying them into the town. Nayna held onto his breeches leg as she walked alongside him. When he got to the square, he called out for Sophyra and Nikale. They appeared within moments.

“Ga’briyel! You are hurt!” Sophyra cried out as she ran up to him.

“I am fine,” he said quietly, putting the two girls down in front of him. “The wounds are already healing.  I need you to take these little ones inside and keep them safe.”

“They are the latest spoils?” Nikale said with a grimace.

“Yes, and I suspect they are not innocents any longer. The horeson I killed last may have—“

“Say no more,” Nikale said. “It is forbidden for a man to touch a child in that way, even for the Asabya, but that does not mean everyone obeys that law. Especially when coming back from a raid.”

“Well,” Ga’briyel said, his hand drifting toward his sword, “the penalty this time was death.”

“Good,” Nikale and Sophyra said at the same time, and then Sophyra knelt down in front of the girls.

“You are safe now,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nayna said softly. “We have not eaten for three days.”

Nikale frowned and gestured toward the house. “Come with us, girls. We will take good care of you.”

“Sophyra,” Ga’briyel said as they turned away from him. “Please stay for a moment.”

Nikale nodded once and gathered the girls to herself before leading them inside. Sophyra stepped up to Ga’briyel and looked at him inquiringly. “What is it?”

In answer, he took her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers. “I love you, my heart,” he said when he released her. “Please stay safe.”

She smiled as she fingered the slits in his shirt. “You do the same.”

He grinned. “These? They are nothing.” He pulled up his shirt to show a smooth torso with just a smear of blood across it. “See? Already healed.”

“Maybe so, but I know they still hurt.” She kissed him. “I love you, Ga’briyel.”

She went inside the house, and Ga’briyel moved to the center of the town square, drew his sword, and sat down with his legs crossed and his blade across his knees. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and waited. He had known from which direction the first party was coming about a quarter of an hour before they showed up. He had yet to figure out how he knew these things, but he did, and now he was waiting to find out from where the second group would come. He had been there about five minutes when he opened his eyes and looked up at his best friend.

“What do you want?”

Dinton sat down next to him rather awkwardly and cocked his head. “Just checking to see if you are all right, my friend.”

Ga’briyel sighed and closed his eyes again. “I am fine, although those horesons got a couple of good strikes in. Hurt like a son of a goat.”

“I am not talking about your body, Ga’briyel.”

The Anmah’s eyes came open slowly, and he frowned. “Then what are you talking about?”

“I am talking about you. I saw those little girls, and Sophyra told me what you told her. Are you all right with this?”

Ga’briyel’s lip curled in anger, and he snarled, “No, I am not, Dinton! The thought of what those little ones went through is killing me! I am so furious that I am burning up inside!” Then he grinned, but Dinton’s eyes went wide, for it was not a pleasant grin. “But do not worry. The massacre of this second raiding party will make me feel better. Especially if they have their own spoils among them.”

“What does a lie feel like?”

Ga’briyel frowned at his friend, wondering why he was asking. “Ever been bitten by a jonaki bug?”

Dinton grimaced. “Several, actually. When I was four, I stepped on a nest, and they swarmed up my leg. Needless to say, they were not very happy with me. I could not get out of bed for a week.”

“Then you know what a lie feels like. Why do you ask?”

“Because I was wondering if you were feeling it now.”

Ga’briyel’s eyes flashed with irritation. “What exactly do you mean by that? You did not just lie to me.”

“Not me, Captain Mistri. You. Do you feel the same thing when you lie?”

Staring at his friend for a moment, Ga’briyel then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, I do not. What makes you think I am lying?”

“Because I know that killing those Asabya who are coming is not going to make you feel better. Why do you pretend to like it?”

“I never said I liked it, Captain. I said it will make me feel better. If I can rescue more babies from these animals and make sure that the other people of the plains are safe from their raids, I will feel better. Not good, but better.”

“What will make you feel good?”

Ga’briyel sighed. “Other than the annihilation of every Daitya and Azazil, you mean? I do not know. Perhaps just a couple of moons of peace. No more killing, no more fear, no more pain.”

“Unfortunately, that is not going to happen tonight, my young Anmah.”

Smoothly rising to his feet, Ga’briyel turned around toward Telantes. “What do you mean by that, Debaduta?”

“The second raiding party has been joined by the last two. They have heard of what happened here, and they are going to try to overrun the town.”

“How many?”

“Thirty-five in total.”

“Fire and ashes! Where are they now?”

“About four stades to the west. They are planning on how to kill you and everyone in the town who has helped you.”

“Can you tell me how long until they get here?”

“I can. You have about half an hour, but there is something else.”

“What?”

“One is an Azazil.”

Ga’briyel gritted his teeth and ground out, “Another? Let me guess. Dahaka’s brother?”

“Not quite. Daitya have no siblings,” Telantes said with no emotion in his voice. “They were close, however, and Padmal’s Azazil will not be pleased to hear Dahaka is dead. I am here to show you how to protect the town from it.”

“Is Padmal a Daitya as well?”

“No, one of Sayatan’s denizens cannot possess another, thank Yisu.”

“Fine.” Ga’briyel sighed, sheathing his sword. “Dinton, can you please keep an eye on everyone for me? I know you cannot do much as far as protection, but I would appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Dinton said, rising to one knee and then standing. “Be careful.”

“I will do my best.” Ga’briyel waited until his friend went inside the house, and then he looked at Telantes. “What do I need to know?”

“There is a phrase you must say three times as the Asabya attack. Padmal will not attempt anything until then. He will think you distracted by the others, but you must keep your focus and say exactly what I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes. What is the phrase?”

“’Yisu, kanba vol si e en sakorota. Veya Azazil lo tainon nun lenfi.’ Do you know what it means?”

“Yisu, keep this town safe. Send the Azazil back to Hell.”

“Good. Now say it again and again until you have it memorized. You must not miss even one word or inflection.”

“I already have it memorized.”

Telantes’ eyes widened. “That is not possible. Only Yisu’s priestesses know the language.”

Ga’briyel shrugged. “Apparently, I do, too.”

“Then say it back to me.”

Ga’briyel did so perfectly, and Telantes smiled. “Very good, boy. It seems you are unique even among Sainika.”

“What does that mean?”

“Each time a Sainika is born into the world, he has the abilities that are necessary for whatever Sayatan has sent. The abilities I have witnessed before are translation, physically feeling emotions, seeing thoughts, second sight, and remarkable fighting ability among others. You, however, seem to have all these abilities. This has never happened before.”

Frowning, Ga’briyel drew his sword and looked at it. “That does not sound good.” He glanced up at Telantes. “Does not that mean this time things will be worse? That Sayatan is sending everything he is got?”

“I suppose that is a possibility, but I also know that Yisu always gives His Sainika what he needs to overcome Sayatan and his underlings. I do not want you to get discouraged or to doubt yourself.”

“Discouraged? No, it is not that, and I do not doubt anything.”

“What is it, then?”

Ga’briyel sighed again and twirled his sword until it was a blur in front of him. “I am tired, Telantes.”

“Physically?”

“No. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually, you name it. I am already tired of killing people, tired of the fear and terror surrounding me, and tired of all of this! How many more years will pass before Sayatan is defeated? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? How many more years must I deal with this?”

Telantes cocked his head and was silent for a moment. “I cannot tell you that. Only Yisu can see into the future, and only He knows what will happen tomorrow or next moon or next year. You must understand that He sees all paths time might take based on humans’ decisions.”

“So He knew I was going to kill myself before I decided to?”

“He knew it was a possibility, yes. He also knew what would happen to the world if you did, and so He made sure it did not happen. He knows everything, Ga’briyel. Never forget that. Occasionally, He steps in to guide the world in the direction He wants it to go, but not very often. Remember that as well.”

“I will.” Abruptly, a prickle started in Ga’briyel’s brain, and he turned toward the west gate. “They are coming.”

“You can feel the Azazil?”

The Anmah just nodded and walked down the cobblestones, his sword in hand and his eyes blazing.

“I will wish on you a good battle, then, Anmah. I would like to help you, but I will not.”

Ga’briyel stopped and looked back. “Why not?”

“The Azazil will be banished for a longer time if you are the one to do it, and I am not permitted to take human life. Once the Azazil is gone, only humans will be left.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Ga’briyel said, resuming his walk. He did not hear the Debaduta leave, but he knew he was gone, and it was time to cut down another thirty-five men. He stopped when the four watchtowers flanked him and waited impatiently. Within five minutes, he heard rustling in the forest in front of him, and then what looked to be all thirty-five Asabya burst from the trees and flowed down the slope of the valley toward him like a flood. He waited until the prickling in his brain was almost painful, and then he raised his sword and spoke.

“Yisu, kanba vol si e en sakorota. Veya Azazil lo tainon nun lenfi.”

After the first time he said it, the prickling shuddered, but the men kept coming.

“Yisu, kanba vol si e en sakorota. Veya Azazil lo tainon nun lenfi.”

The prickling dimmed significantly, and seemed to splinter. It felt as if it were trying to form into one cohesive form again.

“Yisu, kanba vol si e en sakorota. Veya Azazil lo tainon nun lenfi.”

An unearthly screech came from the man at the forefront of the flood, and he fell to the ground, his sword dropping from his grasp and his hands cupping his head. Ga’briyel only had a split second to register this, however, for the other Asabya simply glanced at Padmal and kept coming. Within moments, the Anmah was surrounded, his sword a blur as he deflected, shed, and parried blows while landing plenty of his own. Unfortunately, as before, there were too many blades to block them all, and by the time there were five Asabya standing, Ga’briyel was bleeding heavily from several deep cuts to his arms, thighs, and torso. At one point, an Asabya had managed to drive his sword completely through the Anmah from behind, and Ga’briyel had almost laughed when the Asabya had pulled the sword out and everyone had stopped and waited for him to fall. Instead, he had just grunted, spun, and taken the man’s head off.

Now, there were only these five to kill, and he was done. Hopefully for a very long time. He did not miss the fact that Padmal was one of the five, but the man was very pale. Ga’briyel pointed his sword at him.

“Feel different, Padmal?”

“How did you know my name?”

Ga’briyel shrugged and then groaned when the motion pulled on his wounds. “The same way you know who I am. Sayatan told you, and Yisu told me. Well, He told me indirectly.”

The Asabya frowned. “I do know who you are, Ga’briyel Mistri el’Adama, and I know what you can do, but you are losing a lot of blood right now, and I think that you will not last much longer.”

“Is that what you think? And what if I told you that I am healing even as we stand here?”

Padmal grinned. “I would say it will not be enough. The five of us will finish you off and then slaughter everyone in the town who helped you in any way.”

“And how will you find that out?”

“Oh, believe me, there are plenty of Asabya who will tell me what I want to know. They will turn on their neighbors in a heartbeat if they know I will kill their children if they do not.”

“But you will have to get past me in order to do that, and I will not let that happen.”

“Why?”

Ga’briyel blinked. “Why what?”

“Why do you care what happens to the people of this town? Did not Asabya kill your family and everyone in your village?”

“Yes, but that was men, not women and children. Which is why you will all die and they will all live.”

Ga’briyel held his sword in a front guard and waited. He knew the Asabya would not be able to resist attacking him when they saw him as weakened, and he was right. Within seconds, all five rushed him, and he managed to kill three before Padmal dipped low and sliced Ga’briyel’s right thigh to the bone. The Anmah cried out and fell to the ground.

Padmal stood straight and snarled, “As I said, Anmah, we will kill you and then them.” He raised his sword high, but hesitated when the only other remaining Asabya fell with an arrow through his chest. “What…” That was as far as he got before grunting and looking down to see the fletchings of an identical arrow sticking out of him. He looked up at the walls of Grama, and he growled. Less than a second later, he was on the ground with another arrow protruding from his left eye.

Ga’briyel rolled onto his back and stared up at the walls. On the top of the nearest one was the boy who had been possessed by the Azazil. He had a longbow in his hand, and he gave Ga’briyel a quick nod before disappearing.

Shoving himself up to a sitting position, Ga’briyel gritted his teeth against the pain racing through his body. He shuffled his way to Padmal, cleaned his sword on the dead man’s shirt, and sheathed it. Then he crawled to the nearest watchtower and slowly and painfully pulled himself to his feet. He certainly had not wanted to admit it to the Asabya, but he had lost so much blood that he felt as if he was going to faint. He rested his head against the wooden slats and waited to feel better. He had never been wounded like that in a fight before, though, and his body was not able to heal fast enough. Without warning, his legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.