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.