Chapter 4

One of the Minister of Magic’s servants quietly walked into the closed off room with a tray of wine. Arsenio sat across a small table talking with the other Minister about the Kings orders for more Vivificus.

“Now, Minister Landon, we just need your signature before we can officially spread the order.” The magician nodded and reached for a long brown and white quill. He dipped it into a bottle of ink and scratched his name onto the paper. When he was finished, he handed it to Arsenio who folded it back up and placed it inside his pocket.

The Minister poured the dark purple liquid into small a glass cup and handed it to Arsenio.

“This business with the Pugnators is getting out of control,” said Landon, “Simply looking for more Vivificus will only delay the fact that they will grow scarce and our troops will go out unprotected.”

“The king understands that, we have also sent out new orders to our generals, telling them to up the punishments for those who squander their privilege.”

“Will that be enough? These new punishments might turn out to be little annoyances for them. Hardly anything that could really change their minds.”

“What do you suggest then?” asked Arsenio. Landon appeared to mull it over in his mind before answering.

“Well, I am unsure of how to say this but…they have lost fear.” Arsenio gave the magician a look of confusion. “They are immortal,” explained Landon, “and so forget the real fear of death, the vigor of cherishing every moment. I would hope perhaps to ignite that fear again.”

“That’s dangerous and given to the wrong people, inhumane. We shouldn’t be trying to harm them, they are after all our citizens. They are giving up their lives for us already.”

“That’s their duty, is it not? The Vivificus takes the wounds so the Pugnator can continue fighting. Edessa doesn’t agree and that is why they won’t win.”

“So you don’t think we can achieve peace through negotiations?” asked Arsenio.

“They attacked first, why would they agree to anything if they started this war?”

“People change. 18 years of death and slow economies can do a lot to anyone.”

“Arsenio, you were always the optimist. I would think this war would’ve changed that by now.” His smile was smooth and masked. Arsenio hated that about the magician, he flit like he was to a statue or a snake.

“You and I never could really agree on anything Minster, thank you for your cooperation in the matter. Let’s hope there is room in the Vivificus camps still.”

“Oh don’t worry, I make sure there is always room.”

Arsenio left the room and took a deep breath. He moved on to the city’s local printer and distributor. He handed the notice to the man and waited as copies were made and sent off towards the rest of Ascalon. The citizens would get the orders within the week and new Vivificus would begin their training the following weak. It would still be a while before they were field ready but there was nothing they could do.

To take off the edge of the meeting the minister, Arsenio sat in a local pub and drank cheap mead. Not many could afford the cheap alcohol but some were there anyway, dreaming of the end to war. A stranger sat next to Arsenio and stared blankly at the Minster.

“You’re out defense guy aren’t you?” said the stranger.

“Yes.” Arsenio said calmly, he was used to this upcoming conversation.

“A new order for your beloved citizen’s right? Do you still live in comfort up on high with our king? I bet you don’t even know of the atrocities on the fronts. Or the camps.”

Arsenio drank some more and offered no response. People were mad, who wouldn’t be? Their sons, daughters, father and mothers are out dying for pride. The stranger was silent for a while.

“All joking and hatred aside, when do you think this war will end?” Arsenio rolled his cup between his hands, “Don’t gussy it up either, I want your honest opinion.”

“Honesty, huh?” Arsenio said, “I couldn’t tell you. I dream and hope tonight. But I do know that it won’t be this month.” He dropped a few coins on the counter for both their drinks. He nodded in respect to the stranger and walked out solemnly, ready to home to his wife.

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Arsenio had ridden about 3 hours from the village. He would have to make camp before the sun set. He had two more days before getting home. He didn’t need to exhaust his horse, wouldn’t help nor was it necessary. The new orders would take their time; action wouldn’t happen for a while either. He could take the time to get himself rested before getting back to work at the king’s side.

He found a small nook in the woods, a stream close by and a good spot for his campsite. He tied his horse close to the stream so it could graze and drink. He gathered some wood and began a fire. He cooked some fish and laid himself down to rest. Arsenio’s mind wandered and raced. E thought about the war, the citizens, the Vivificus and everything else that was a problem in his life. He watched his fire dance and crack. Small wisps of flame drifted in the wind. It was quiet, peaceful.

Snap!

Arsenio jolted from his bed with his sword partially unsheathed. He looked about in the dark woods. Another stick cracked in a different direction. His senses now heightened from the adrenaline he heard the shuffling of feet. He doused out his camp fire and waited for the first strike. It came from all sides.

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Cullan slapped open the flap and kicked over his sword and shield. Liam watched as his Pugnator sat on the other cot and seethed in silence.

“So, how was our beloved General Kurt?” Liam jeered. Cullan glared angrily trying desperately to kill Liam with his mind. “That good, huh? Well, I imagine it could’ve been worse because you’re not packing and we’re both still alive.” Liam smiled and waited for Cullan to give him a short, indifferent answer.

“Because I am not a soft moron like the rest of you here, I have to start training with the first Lieutenant and be babysat for hours while fighting new recruits. Not to mention I have to play nice with you,”

“Really, and you made it seem so bad.” Liam continued to ignore Cullans fierce and obviously annoyed gaze. It was actually amusing to Liam to see someone so livid about good things. “So, when do you start?”

“It’s at eight in the morning. Since you’re one of the cuddly children here, why is it so important to be…cuddly?” Cullan really couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept of being kind to others. What is the point if they’ll just die tomorrow?

“Oh, nothing really…it’s just respectful, being human, and setting yourself apart from barbarians.” Liam replied. Cullan grumbled and really wanted to punch Liam and just about everything else. He leaned back against a pole and crossed his arms closely to his chest, pressing them hard together to restrain himself. The last thing he needed was to pummel Liam’s face in and get sent into prison or something.

“Well, since you have full day tomorrow then why don’t we rest. I can see you are about to kill me anyway so we can just continue this wonderful conversation tomorrow when you are done with Lieutenant Miller and those cute new recruits.” Liam stifled a laugh, kicked off his boots and blew out his candle. The tent became shrouded in darkness along with Liam. The candle near Cullan flickered light in a small space on his side. Cullan straightened and kicked his boots off roughly with a loud thump on the ground. He snuffed out the flame and lay stiffly on the cot. He felt his mind buzz with activity, predicting a long night ahead with little sleep. He hated life now more than ever, there was no way this could get any worse.

Chapter 3

Liam and Cullan waited inside a tent that belonged to the head Vigoratus of their camp. The man was finishing up a healing session with one of the senior officers. All Iugum Aeternus ceremonies were done through him. Cullan had now seen this man three times in the course his services of the war. Liam was filled with excitement and anxiety for his first bonding.

            The head Vigoratus wore a long white and blue over coat. Its sleeves were bell shaped and had a large hood. A beige under shirt peeked behind the coat. Long black pants fell over slim legs and black boots. The man himself was middle aged and had shoulder length black hair. Liam’s observations were interrupted by the Vigoratus’s voice.  It was deep and resounded like a drum.’

            “Master Cullan, here to get yet another Vivificus huh? You better keep this one longer than the last one, poor soul.” He looked up at the two men and back down to his patient. He then nodded and told him that he was fully recovered.

            “Liam isn’t it?” He asked glancing at a piece of paper. He scribbled a few words and set it aside. Looking back up he studied the two with silver blue eyes. Liam nodded with energy.

            “I’m Silas. Master Cullan already knows me. He obviously has an attachment to me because he continues to come back.” Liam smiled while Cullan snuffed at the comment. Silas opened a drawer from his desk.

            “I am going to need to take some of your blood. This will let us know if you two are compatible with one another.” Silas removed a small vial with a long needle at the end. Liam had seen it many times before at the Vivificus training site. Cullan dragged up a stool and plopped his rump on it. Sticking out his arm he continued his bored façade while Silas stuck the needle in the vein in the crevice of his inner elbow. He pulled on the back end of the vial and red liquid poured into the glass.

“So you are a living creature, Master Cullan?” Liam jeered. Cullan glared at him with his blue eyes and made a small growl beneath his breath. Silas finished and moved onto Liam. Said man had been stuck so many times it no longer hurt for him. Silas took both vials of blood and sat back down at his desk. He mixed a few droplets of blood together and watched closely to make sure they didn’t attack each other.

Cullan dreaded this part. He either had a new Vivificus or he was stuck waiting another week or so before one was available. It was a miracle that this one was found so quickly. Even then he hated the Vivificus, always chatty, inexperienced, happy, trying to make friends. He didn’t know if dying was worse or not compared to the people he was forced to be around.

Silas nodded in approval of the compatibility and pulled out a large bag halfway filled with white powder. Liam guessed it was chalk. Silas mumbled incoherent words and lightly touched the chalk, leaving some on his hands. Then the chalk shifted and slithered up like a snake to Silas’s hands. It then moved into the air towards the middle of the tent. The chalk made several large circles until it dropped slowly onto the floor. Silas mumbled a few more words and a smaller amount of chalk did the same thing. It traveled into the middle of the previous circle and made a miniature one.

When Silas was done speaking the incantation he proceeded to explain the ritual to Liam. Cullan waited with his foot tapping an impatient tempo as he heard now for the fourth time how this was to work.

“You and Cullan will step into the bigger circle and then cut your hands…” Liam held up his hand and stopped Silas.

“Sorry, not to be rude but I know how this works. After all I did train for this.” Silas nodded and moved aside a few inches away from the circles.

Liam and Cullan walked into the bigger circle being careful not to disturb the chalk. Silas handed Cullan the ceremonial knife. It was made of the purest steel and had swirling engravings around the hilt and partly into the blade itself. An amethyst gem proudly stemmed off the hilt and gave the knife a priceless value. Cullan took the blade to his hand and made a quick but steady cut on his palm. Blood streamed and dripped into the smaller circle. He then handed the knife to Liam who did the same and watched as his blood joined Cullans in the smaller circle of chalk. Liam knelt down on one knee and presented his cut hand towards Cullan. He grasped the mans hand and waited for the Iugum Aternus to commence.

Silas began to speak some more mumbled incantations. The blood in the smaller circle began the move along the wooden floor. They danced around each other before collecting together and evaporate slowly. The air began to smell of copper as the evaporated blood steamed around the two hands. Liam began to perspire as he felt something change in his system. His skin tingled and got goose bumps. In all his training, this was definitely different to what they expected him to endure. Lights danced behind his closed eyes and caught a glimpse of what seemed like a ravaged field from a battle. He saw Cullan, at least he thought it was Cullan, running at something. It was tall and somewhat multicolored. It was white on the bottom and had a dark figure on top; a horse and rider perhaps? As soon as the vision began it stopped and he opened his eyes to see Silas standing above him.

“Its okay Liam, you only fainted. All Vivificus faint after they bond with their Pugnator. Thankfully it was also successful.” Liam sat up and looked at his hand, the wound was still there. He looked up at Cullan who showed his hand with that bored expression. The wound was completely gone.

“Silas, do Vivificus usually also have visions during the ritual?” Liam was having difficulty understanding what he saw. Silas was silent and had a masked look. He wasn’t going to tell Liam the truth.

“Not all do, but it does happen. They are meaningless little things. Don’t worry another minute about it.” Silas smiled and helped him up to his feet. He showed them out of his tent and wished them the best.

‚ƒ

Cullan left Liam to walk to their tent as he made his way to the Commanding Generals office. He straightened his clothes out a little more and made sure he looked somewhat decent. He may not be sent home or anything but he didn’t want to be scolded for long hours about his appearance.

He weaved through the higher ranking soldiers tents before finding a large white tent with the Commanding Generals insignia on the sides. He took a deep breath and knocked on one of the posts.

“Corporal Cullan Price reporting in Sir.” He announced through the tent flaps. He waited only a second before the first Lieutenant of their division pushed the flap aside and nodded for Cullan to enter. He put a fist over his chest and bowed slightly before walking in. There was a large desk and bed in the tent. Behind the desk was a large map of the area they were in with red flagged pins showing each known position of them and the enemy. The Commanding General sat in his chair reading a few reports from other officers. He looked up and waved the first lieutenant to leave them. When they were alone Cullan once again put his fist over his chest and bowed to his commanding officer.

“I have reported in General Kurt as ordered.” Cullan would have to wait for General Kurt’s order to be at ease before he could stop bowing. The General was very clean cut with a groomed short beard on his face. His ebony hair was also short with small bangs parted in the middle that brushed his forehead lightly when he moved. His uniform was also clean and tidy. General Kurt would have it no other way. He soon finished reading the report before looking at Cullan.

“At ease Corporal,” Cullan stood straight and stood in a more comfortable position. “The reason I have called you in is because there are a lot of soldiers these days that are acting like stuck up princes. You are one of them.” His voice was stern and demanding. Five years of being one of the best Generals gave him all authority to do so.

“May I ask what I have done wrong Sir?” Cullan respectfully asked. He looked Kurt in the eye because he knew that it was what was expected from all of the soldiers when with the General. Kurt breathed, fixed his position in his chair and laced his fingers together on the desk.

“You just received your fourth Vivificus. Your fourth. In three years you have served with us and have done a fine job but it doesn’t excuse your lack of caution to keep your Vivificus out of harms way. You don’t go to the training site as often as you did before and so your fighting skills are sloppy. You may think that training no longer matters because you are immortal but we are running out of Vivificus. Now I am letting you have one more chance with Liam. Bear in mind that I am debating whether he is your last.”

Cullan clenched and unclenched his fists. He wasn’t too fond of lectures on how precious life was. Vivificus were supposed to take his wounds; if they died then their mission was completed.

“Permission to speak freely Sir?” Kurt nodded. “It is their duty to die so that I might live. I am sure the General and many other Generals have sent their reports about this to the King but if you decide to send me out there without my Vivificus then it will only cause more harm then good. I don’t see how you commanding me to be more humane will change the fact that I will get a new Vivificus later…Sir.”

General Kurt fumed behind his green eyes. Cullan was sharp and called his bluff. The response from the King would arrive sometime this week but they all knew the answer.

“Perhaps, but in the meantime you will go to the training site.” Cullan fidgeted and looked at the ground before meeting the Generals eyes again. “Everyday for four hours you will report to the first Lieutenant that showed you in. I was informing him that he had better see you from now on until I say otherwise. His name is Jarvis Miller. If you don’t show up then I will just have to come up with another way to persuade you to go. The least you can do for your Vivificus, this army and your King is to be a better fighter. The first session starts at 0800 hours tomorrow morning. You’re dismissed.”

Kurt picked up another report and showed that the conversation was done. Cullan bowed again and stormed out of the tent ready to forget about the new annoyance.

Chapter 2

A trumpet woke the troops. Cullan winced in pain as a headache formed. He got up and realized he didn’t even bother to get undressed. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was messed up. Combing his hands through his hair he finally stood and walked outside. It was cool and grey. Clouds blocked out the sun with their thick dark bodies. The morning was humid with puffs of fog crawling along the hills and plains. A cool breeze brushed against his skin, waking him up more. Cullan moved along until he got to a stream. He cupped the water and splashed his face. He had to sober up fast or else the Commanding General would have his hide. Not that anything would happen. They needed him.

He was interrupted a few minutes later by a Vigoratus. It was the one from yesterday that tried to heal his old Vivificus. Cullan couldn’t even remember the medic’s name.

“Master Cullan, your new Vivificus is here. He is waiting in your tent right now.” Cullan pulled himself to stand and began to walk back towards his tent.

“Thought you said it would take some time to fine a new one.” Cullan mocked in a tired tone.

“Each one is different; some are ready for the field in a few years and other longer. He just so happened to be ready last night. But we can always appoint him to someone else if you wanted to wait more.” Cullan glared silently at the medic obviously not amused by his humor. The Vigoratus rolled his eyes and began to walk away when he suddenly stopped and turned on his heel back towards Cullan.

“Oh and Master Cullan, the Commanding General would like to see you as soon as possible. Please try to be respectable.” The medic looked at him from head to toe with amazement but turned again walked away from Cullan and towards a few other Pugnators. Cullan sighed and continued to walk back to his quarters. When he arrived, there sat a man on the second bed that looked a little older than Cullan. He had curly brown hair, sleepy blue eyes and a big build. He over came Cullan in height and strength. His appearance contradicted his demeanor. The man may have been intimidating in some respect but had the aura of nothing more than a big puppy dog.

“Ah, you must be my new Pugnator. My name is Liam, nice to meet you.” Liam stuck out his hand with a big smile. Cullan limply shook his hand only to take it back a few seconds later. Let’s get this over with. Cullan thought dully. He sat down on his own bed and waited for the exciting back story of Liam. Said man laughed a little to himself and also sat.

“What’s so funny?” Cullan felt like a nail was scratching at the back of his brain with his hangover. He didn’t like people laughing at him.

“Well, I was told that you are non sociable and won’t care about my life. I laughed because they were right.” Cullan never had a Vivificus be blunt like that. He sighed and put his hands behind his head.

“Yeah, I don’t care. A Vivificus’ role is to take the wounds of the Pugnator and if he or she dies in the process then so be it. It’s your role in this war.” Since Liam was going to be blunt, Cullan might as well join the fun. “Another thing I don’t care about is other people’s opinion of me. Don’t expect me to start sobbing because people might say ‘mean’ things.” Liam laughed at that. It was cheerful and reminded Cullan of children playing in a meadow. Liam looked straight at Cullan with determination and respect.

“You not only hate their opinions but you just hate people in general. I must say, that’s a sad life indeed. You lock yourself away from others and think that it will make everything better.” Cullan wanted to just glare at Liam. He acted like he already knew him.

“Let me guess. You’ve had the perfect life. Full of friends and family that love you and are planning to write to you every night, right?” Liam looked down at his hands; a sad smile replaced the one before it. He let out a little chuckle as he contemplated what to say next.

“I’m happy to hear that I appear that way. If you must know I’m an orphan. I don’t know what a family is. No memories of any kind.” Cullan felt a small pang of guilt. He at least knew his parents before they died.

“As for friends, they’ve all joined the army at the northern front. None of us have time to write. They’re all Pugnators. I was the only one who trained to be a Vivificus. So I didn’t even see them at the training site. Not many Pugnators or Vivificus’ survive the northern front.” Liam stared outside of the tent. There was obviously more to his story than just that. It definitely didn’t seem too heavenly. Cullan sighed and stood up.

“Unless you have second thoughts, I think we should get the ritual over with.” Liam nodded and stood up and left the tent with Cullan. They walked across the camp over to the magician tents; they were separated from the soldiers to keep the medics from making favorites. Nonbiased relationships were needed to avoid chaos. Cullan slowly desensitized himself to Liam’s story. It won’t matter on the battlefield or at anytime. It was war; sympathy was a waste of time.

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Arsenio stared at himself in a tall mirror. Heavy bags from sleepless nights darkened his already murky brown eyes. Grey hair that crept through his brown locks added to his tired physique. He wore a loose faded green shirt with a leather vest on. Combat boots and pants strapped to his legs were easier to move around in and were needed these days. A sword garnished his attire; he wanted to be ready for anything. The capital city wasn’t as safe as it used to be. In the back of the room was his closet, the door was ajar and his old green and black robes hung collecting dust. He stopped wearing them many years ago.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose he walked out of his house, kissed his wife and daughter good-bye, and ambled his way to King Brennan’s war room. Arsenio remembered the city being livelier. People used to crowd the streets talking and laughing. Now a long line of citizens waited for rations to be distributed. People looked like dark clouds, with heavy black underbellies to store their misery. No sunshine was seen in their eyes or actions. Arsenio moved past the weary people and continued on the way to the castle. Guards, wearing similar clothes as him, leaned against the stone walls. They didn’t even bother to stand erect as the Minister of Defense walked by. But it wasn’t the time for niceties.

Arsenio continued to cross the castle defenses and hallways. New flags were posted on the walls but with swords and axes adorned next to them. Just for extra armory in case of an invasion. All of it was planned by him. The defense of the city would have been his top priority 25 years ago. Today, it was the safety of his King.

What was now a routine, Arsenio shoved the large doors open. It was now with re-enforced metal along the skeleton of the wood, they were much heavier and harder to break through. As he sauntered up to King Brennan, he noticed that the chair had lost all of its jewels. They were used to buy supplies from allies and make improvements for the military.

King Brennan had a full head of white hair. His once bright eyes were dulled to everything, even his now best friend Arsenio. Wrinkles of depression lined along his forehead and face. Repeating years of tradition, the King looked up at his defense advisor and back at the tactical information on Edessa.

“They are starting to get an idea of our strategies.” King Brennan said with frustration. “They don’t know about the Iugum Aeternus but do know that simply slicing our men isn’t going to kill them.” He flipped the page a little. It caught some momentum and lifted from the table. Gliding low, it fell a few inches from its original spot. Arsenio withdrew his own folded piece of paper. He rubbed his callused fingers along the edges of it and finally gave it to King Brennan.

“News from our fronts. Some of the Pugnators are getting cocky about their newfound immortality.” King Brennan snatched the letter from Arsenio’s hand. Ripping open the seal he sped read the details. His already gloomy mood worsened. He clenched the paper harder, crumpling it a little bit. Smacking his large hands on the table caused a resounding pound to echo in the large room. The letter was losing its integrity very quickly.

“They will be our undoing. Are their Commanding Generals at least solving the problem?” King Brennan was trying to keep his cool. This war was already costing so many lives, especially of the Vivificus. Arsenio took the opportunity to sit and began to rub the bridge of his nose again.

“My King, if you read more of the letter you would have found that out.” King Brennan glared at him. Arsenio got the idea. “They are presenting some of the Pugnators with new Vivificus. They are basically getting one more chance.” Arsenio didn’t say much else. King Brennan sighed, tried to straighten the now ripped and wrinkled letter, and began to read more. He nodded and put the letter among other ones on the table. It was a war zone even on the table. Stacks of papers and maps cluttered the slab of wood like snow. Arsenio knew his wife would have had a fit had the circumstances been different.

“Where do we stand with the number of Vivificus?” King Brennan asked quietly. He sat back down with an ache in his joints. He suspected that he may not see the end of the war.

“We have about 300 training. But most of them still in the early stages of the exercises. We are running out of civilians.” Arsenio clasped his hands together in front of him. He knew that the numbers weren’t good. King Brennan laid his head against his chair. Closing his eyes for a moment he reopened them and stared blankly at the vaulted ceiling.

“If it comes to where Pugnators have to go into battle without a Vivificus, do you think they will survive?” King Brennan already knew the answer, he just desperately wanted encouragement.

“They are skilled, but once one Edessan soldier realizes he can kill them, the Edessan army will be rejuvenated and probably force our men back. No, this bond is essential to our victory now. Without it, we will lose this war.” King Brennan grimaced and rubbed his hands across his face. Sitting up, he got a blank piece of parchment and a quill. Dipping the end in a bottle of black ink, he began to write. About ten minutes later, he blew on the words and handed the paper to Arsenio.

He looked over the paper. It was a new draft for Vivificus soldiers. At the bottom was the Kings signature. It now needed his and the Minister of Magic. He would have to make a day’s trip to the neighboring town where the man was stationed. His King held out the quill to Arsenio. Taking it from King Brennan, he signed the draft. He then rolled it up, stuffed it in his inner pocket and made his way out of the war room. Arsenio went back home, packed a two day supply of rations and saddled his horse. He pulled himself on and trotted along a weathered trail. Looking up at the blue sky, Arsenio thought of the Iugum Aeternus. The Pugnators lost their sense of unity and leeched off their new immortality. He gave a prayer that the Commanding Generals’ wouldn’t be lenient on their punishments. Giving his horse a quick kick, he cantered all the way to the town of Coruscus.

Chapter 1

“From today, we are at war with Edessa!” The Minister of Defense, Arsenio, announced boldly. A young boy watched the Minister from below in the shade of a store. Intently taking in all that was happening. He watched Arsenio’s short brown hair slightly rustle in the breeze. He knew that those dark brown eyes were watching the villagers carefully. The boy caught the heavy gold medallion, signifying his position, glinting in the light. Its triangular shape had a green gem in the middle of it with a thick gold chain around the Ministers neck. The black and green robes made staying beneath the sun seem difficult, Arsenio probably wanted to get the announcement over with. He was only recently appointed the job and was young. The boy’s grandmother talked about how Arsenio still believed that he was a novice at his job; that he had never seen war before.

“They have savagely entered our land and pillaged our cities. Your King has taken this as aggression towards his people and therefore believes he must answer with aggression.” He stood on a balcony with two castle guards by his side and national flags hanging above him. The flags were large with silver and purple stripes.

The people of the capital city stood still, they carried food from the market and dirty clothes that needed to be washed. Children clung around their mothers skirts, afraid if they moved they would be disciplined. But every ear was on Arsenio, waiting for their instructions.

“Draft papers will be sent out to every eligible man. Your duty to your King and land has come, failure is not an option!” The men all raised their fists and cheered. Castle guards put their hands on their chests and bowed to the national flag. The people followed suit offering prayers of victory and safety. Arsenio went back inside; he pursued a long corridor with national flags all along the walls until he came upon the war room. Shoving the large doors open he marched inside with his boots clomping along the way. The King sat on a wooden chair that was a smaller version of his throne. In itself the chair was beautiful, the wood was a deep red with a silver and purple throw on its back end. Jewels that were embedded in the wood made the chair gleam with pride in the sun.

The King sat hunched over a map of the lands. His brow was furrowed in desperation as he stared at Edessa. Arsenio sat next to him and gazed at his King. Specks of silver hair were around his thin side burns, hair line and beard. His light blue eyes glanced at Arsenio and then back at the map. Arsenio noted that the crown wasn’t on his head.

“Well, how did they take it?” His King asked; the voice was gruff but tired.

“They are ready and very willing to fight for you King Brennan.” Arsenio said with encouragement.

“You mean for Ascalon. They love their home land far more than they love me. Why shouldn’t they?” King Brennan stood up and paced around the table. His right hand was on the hilt of his sword, the other hung loosely at his side. He stopped to stare out a stained glass window that was partly opened, he saw citizens walking fast around the market place getting food and weapons. The blacksmiths were hammering away getting ready for war.

“I don’t bring them joy and a sense of pride. Ascalon does that. I’m simply the one that brings war.” Arsenio calmly stood and walked to King Brennan’s side.

“This war was not started by you. The King of Edessa started it. You are providing safety for your citizens, they know this. Besides, this war will be over before you know it.” Arsenio gave King Brennan a reassuring smile and slapped a hand on his broad shoulder.

…18 years later…

Swords clashed and arrows flew like birds in the sky over a desolate field. Men and women fought with and against each other. Blood pooled beneath dancing feet and fed the ground its nutrients. Cullan, a young but hardened soldier, fought against an Edessan soldier. They swung their swords frantically trying to beat the other before they both died from exhaustion. Cullan was tired but moved fast and quickly, dodging everything that was thrown at him. In a blink of an eye his sword was moved aside and the other soldier swiftly cut him from the shoulder to his hip. The fabric ripped and blood began to seep from the wound. No sooner was it inflicted did it suddenly disappear. The soldier dazed by what he saw almost dropped his sword. Cullan took the opportunity and cut down his enemy. The soldier fell to the ground, groaned a bit and died on the spot. Cullan shifted his weight, wiped the sweat from his brow and jogged to his next opponent.

The fighting went on for hours with the same thing happening over and over. Ascalon soldiers getting cut but having no evidence of it. The enemy retreated and Cullan and his fellow soldiers drew back to their camp. The casualties were not on the battlefield but in the white tents. Cullan, while wiping the blood from his sword, went into one tent and found the person he was looking for; his Vivificus.

A Vigoratus, or medical magician, was working on the wounds of a man when Cullan walked up. The magician moved his eyes to Cullan and leaned back in his chair.

“Well you’ve done it again, your Vivificus is dead.” Cullan also sat down and stretched his legs. He didn’t bother looking at the dead man on the bed.

“That’s life, he was chosen for this specific purpose. How long ‘til I get a new one?” Impatience was in Cullen’s voice. He wasn’t about to go back into battle without his ‘back-up’.

“Master Cullan, you know that the Iugum Aeternus takes time. We need to find someone compatible for the ritual. Not only compatible but also willing.” Cullan looked at the magician in annoyance. The medic stopped talking and sighed.

“We will let you know the moment we find one. In the mean time get some rest, go kill something. That is what you do best isn’t it?” The medic pulled the sheet over the dead Vivificus and left the tent to do some more paper work. Cullan got up and walked out. As he was strolling around the camp he heard an inexperienced voice. He was obviously a new recruit.

“What is the Iugum Aeternus?” He was younger than Cullan and had the eyes of a doe. Innocent and probably not going to like what he was about to hear. He was talking to another Vigoratus.

“The Iugum Aeternus is a ritual that binds two people. This bond is what is helping us win the war. You and another person will become what we call the Vivificus and the Pugnator. You will be the Pugnator, or fighter. Whatever wounds you receive, will be transferred through magic to your Vivificus.” The boy stopped and stared wide eyed at the medic.

“You mean while I am fighting, someone else will take my wounds? That’s wrong why would we do that?” He really sounded pathetic to Cullan.

“Your Vivificus will agree to the terms and is willing to lay down their life for you and Ascalon. This has been going on for 5 years now and there are fewer casualties.”

“But they will die from the wounds…” The boy was stammering and looked like he was going to cry. Pathetic, thought Cullan.

“We medic magicians will be healing your Vivificus every time. We never leave them alone.” The boy stared down at his feet; he still didn’t like the idea. Cullan pushed past the kid and moved on to his tent. This was his third Vivificus that died and it didn’t matter to him; he lost all compassion towards everything the first day he set foot on the battlefield.

Walking to his tent he pushed aside the flap and tied it closed. He set his sword down on a small table and sat on his bed. He took off his boots and tossed them aside. He suddenly got a glimpse of his small square mirror on the table. His once bright blonde hair was a mass of filthy yellow. His blue eyes were getting dimmer each day. He didn’t look like the boy that left his grandparents house three years ago. Cullan brought out a small box of his precious belongings. Among them was a painted picture of himself and his grandparents. They died a few months after he got drafted. He wasn’t able to go the funeral. He was too busy at the front fighting the Edessa army.

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The soldiers were told they could go into the city nearby; they all went in separate groups to keep the visiting hours at a minimum. Cullan and a few other colleagues went at night time. The road to the city went through a forest which was long and dark. Cullan didn’t get scared anymore; he had seen too many horrors for things like fear to really matter.

It took them thirty minutes to finally reach the city gates. They were greeted by flocks of people giving thanks for their service. Cullan noticed that some of the Pugnators brought their Vivificus with them. Some actually became friends with their Vivificus, it was said to strengthen the bond and they would last longer. Cullan saw no point to this. They were going to die sooner or later; a connection was just an unnecessary pass time.

Women escorted the men to a tavern, while some men took the female soldiers on walks around the city. Women were allowed to fight ten years ago when the army was getting smaller. It was before the Iugum Aeternus ever came into being. Cullan almost expected the women to go back home but they never left, probably because they were needed for the bond.

A girl walked up to Cullan, she had pink eye shadow on and shiny red lips. Her long brown hair had soft curls that wrapped around her neck and shoulders like a scarf. She wore a simple dress of pink and white with delicate lace to adorn the material. She was thin and had a plain figure but was quite beautiful.

“Would you like to join me to the tavern? They have a hot meal and mead for every soldier.” She slipped her soft hands onto his arm and smiled sweetly at him. Cullan sighed and nodded but showed no other interest. She got a little discouraged from his nonchalant manner but smiled and talked the whole way.

“I’m Sharon. Do you have a name under that steel armor called skin?” She smiled cutely and stared up at him with those soft brown eyes. Cullan guessed it was her job tonight to make any soldier comfortable. He glanced at her, then back at the tavern.

“Cullan.” He said with a monotone voice. Sharon bit her lip in anxiety. She wasn’t going to get far with this guy. She sighed and moved her eyes about the court yard before they entered the tavern. Once inside, Cullan’s senses went over board. There was smoke coming from pipes and incense. Girls perfume stained their clothes and didn’t help with the air. However, alcohol was the most dominant smell. It was on the floor, the tables and on the men’s every breath. Just by taking in the air, Cullan could feel the effects of the addicting liquid. He noticed Sharon was greeting every man and woman that they walked past. It was a small city for sure. Everybody knew everybody. How sentimental. Cullan observed with a bored expression.

“Master Cullan, would you like to sit down?” Sharon, shyness soaking her voice, asked pleasantly. Cullan just sat, without a word. He again stretched his legs out long and folded his arms. He continued to survey the tavern. Sharon’s determination vanished, her figure lost its uprightness and she sat on the chair across from him.

“Would you like a glass of mead? It’s free for soldiers.” She hoped it would lighten his mood, if that was even possible. Cullan nodded and mumbled what sounded like a thanks. Sharon seemed a little happier and moved across the room to the desk where the bartender stood wiping clean some glasses. They carried on a conversation while he prepared the drink.

Cullan took the time to really look at the tavern. It was all made of wood with Ascalon’s national flag hanging up high on the wall in front of him. The colors changed about a year ago. It used to be silver and purple, but now the silver was replaced by gold. Streamers of similar colors hung from the ceiling and chandeliers. The chandeliers weren’t anything beautiful or expensive; they were buck antlers with beeswax candles adorning the ends. The room was slightly dim with a warm glow throughout the building.

Sharon returned with a skip in her step. Her mood was picking up. It must be from all the alcohol in the air. Cullan grabbed the glass from her hand and began to drink. It was warm and tasted like honey. Mead was made from honey so hence the taste but Cullan always enjoyed that in this new life of his. As time passed with no conversation between him and Sharon, Cullan felt that he should at least relieve her from her duty. It was taking a toll on him.

“Miss Sharon, I appreciate the kindness. But give it to someone who wants it.” Cullan stared at her waiting either for a response or hopefully for her to leave. She seemed upset and a little angry. She got up with a fake smile on.

“Thank you for your wonderful company Master Cullan,” Sarcasm laced her voice with a disgusted feel in it as well. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” She walked towards another soldier who welcomed her warmly. He now had two girls entertaining him. Cullan grunted and chugged down the glass of mead. Looking emotionless at the cup he motioned for a waitress for another one.

A few empty mead cups later, Cullan and his group were recalled to their camp. Cullan stood, wobbled a bit and then staggered with his colleagues back to their tents. Things were blurry and focused all at once. His mind was numb, but he liked it that way. When they finally reached the camp, Cullan walked into his tent and plopped himself on the bed. The world swirled and soon faded. He dreamt of nothing.