CHAPTER III

[The Anagolay]

There is only one thing standing on the rubble. Aeon's flag perched in place of Lur's flag, flutters proudly on the tangled and ruined bamboo palisade as though it is a footstool. Four intertwined curved lines arranged as to give an impression of a bold, four-petaled flower, an imposing one, traces the middle of the flag's red backdrop.

I pass by what is left of the bell tower, torn down to its skeletons and the bell hanging on a taut rope creating monotone sounds of the haunted. Houses that were two or three floors up with carvings and artful edge have been dismantled and scorched. Corpses left to scavengers. Anything with worth for looters.

Aeonnite soldiers swept the grounds like storm. Swift, brutal, merciless.

Night has passed since the raid on the city of Lur, Kingdom of Thraine; seventh city to have fallen. Including the Kingdom of Faye and the tribes of Gjid, there are countless others who suffered the same fate under the reign of Aeon. The kingdom of Aeon now owns half of Freobel after centuries and centuries of battle.

But they just have to get the city of Lur.

Thraine's are called savages by Aeonnites. Savages because they fought for their kingdom and their identity. Ill-natured zealots because they do not conform to the standards hence, are not civilized the way Aeon is civilized. Thraine's will not give up their land nonetheless, even when they only have a few men that I could measure up in one hand. If there is only one Thraine left and he is missing a hand and a leg, he will give a stand. And for that I salute them.

Aeonnites grew more desperate still, craving enough to seek my help. I can guess the reason why. Lur city is strategically placed between neighboring cities of Thraine. A vital city, rich with resources such as precious gems, mined elements from the earth. Whatever help they can offer they all give it willingly to their guerillas - a small group of men and women dedicated to free their people.

To contain any helping hand, every move between them it will not be long before a fort will rise here. Perhaps why the destruction is far greater than what Itohk city received.

I push forward to the sea of bodies silent like any other, stepping over a decapitated hand. Taking right to an intersection, I reach the heart of Lur where shops used to cluster but the small circular ground have casualties teeming with civilians. It seems that when Aeonnites breached the city's defenses, they killed those that are not even resisting. They cornered them here before striking the last blow.

Six hundred and ninety-eight bodies I estimate, from the bell tower to the center.

Not including the soldiers. Almost half of Lur did not make it out. Just outside the city's palisade more bodies emerge. This is where the real battle occurred. I should track the survivors. They could not be far yet. I cannot move as if my feet have been hammered down on earth. I have seen a lot of deaths, why should this be any different?

Because you betrayed them… A voice rings in my ears.

No. My life is money.

You betrayed these people. Insists the voice, my voice. I try not to think of the night I gave the spies of Aeon the way to Lur without being detected. They paid me, nothing personal. My allegiances are to the highest bidder. I find assortment of things and people. I do not ask and I do not want to know as long as I get paid.

I trace back my steps tediously. I should track the survivors. They could not be far yet. Mid-pace a suggestion of a sigh halts me.

Impossible.

Or is it? If the boy survived and I would be the one to capture him, I will sleep in a bed of gold. As I look around, more frantic than a bird with a broken wing, the sky opens slowly revealing its searing reds and orange illuminating the whole land. Under the belly of the sun, I see two breathing bodies not far from where I stand.

I find myself walking towards their direction.

They call me Anagolay. One who seeks, finds and returns. What was once a seeker of truth turned hunter of gold. Who found the lost and what was lost, returning them without accepting any kind of payment, hungers for anything but peace. Peace is bad for business.

It was really a noble profession before everything changed in Freobel, a canvass on sand washed ashore. Now on ebb and flow of conflict, the title implies a mercenary. The best there is. And at the moment, I am paid to find a boy. I did not think I would be needed. Aeon's death squadron was here. I was sure they would end him.

A creature is splayed on the ground like one of the dead. Arm wraps a small body protectively. The boy is Sanim of Lur. But what of this one? Could it have protected him?

It is unusual. I do not recognize the clothing or the style from any kingdom.

No matter. I can claim the rest of my gold.

I watch as the creature's body stiffens then the eyes open, as if sensing my eyes that bore on it. It bolts upright as I regard it with curiosity. It radiates something off like a scent from another land. It stands five-foot tall with a mess of a hair. I cannot clearly distinguish the features with all the caked blood beside the arresting dark eyes.

Of a human.

The creature looks at me with apparent fear and confusion. Throat working nervously. Yet, it places itself between me and the boy, raising the hands forward as if to stop me from moving.

"I came for him." My voice muffled by a rough-sewn scarf, demands. To be sure, I say it in Thraine's language.

Gawking was the only response it offers me. The creature intently peers at me but a straw hat prevents it from seeing my face.

"You… you're a main…" It gasps after saying. "Oh my g-"

It is a she. Young, delicately thin but full voice speaking in Aeonnite. This is something you do not encounter every waking day.

An Aeonnite protecting a Thraine.

"The boy," I say more firmly, shifting the tongue to Aeon's. She holds her stomach and her forehead with each hand and I grip the hilt of a weapon strap horizontally at my back.

"Anagolay…"

I start. How did she know who I was?

"Who are you? Who sent you?" I say pulling the bolo out, twisting the handle so the blade faces her and my other arm protecting my chest in a fighting stance.

"Whoa! okay. Whoa." She turns her head unsteadily reaching for anything she can use to defend.

"He's not who you're looking for…"

I take a step closer. "How do you know he is who I am looking for?"

Her hand found a hilt of a sword and she raises it but eventually drops it, unprepared of the weight. The girl hesitates, unsure of what exactly she is doing. Her chest heaving rapidly. She meets my gaze and amidst the weary, there lays understanding. She knows something but do not know what to do with it just as how she has a sword but do not know how to wield it.

I look at the figure behind her and how easily I can finish my job. The girl tenses. For a second I am convinced she would stop me.

It did not come. I yank the sword from her grasp and throw it, placing my bolo back to its sheath.

"He's just a boy," she says, her words tumbling out fast which I ignore.

The girl grabs my arm as I pass. Reflex takes over, I snatch the hand away and kick the back of her knees swiftly. She has very poor balance that instantly she is lying flat on her back, groaning.

I kneel down beside Sanim as I size him up. One gold earring that loops like a ring on his left ear dangles limply. This is him alright as indicated by that crest resting just above the flat of his ear. The crest, shaped like a teardrop but with the right curve paunchier than the other, its contents are rigid lines and smooth swirls in alternating pattern. Thraine's crest.

A shallow cut on his chest is the only infliction of a sword on him. I reach for the dagger placed squarely on my chest underneath the corn husks cloak I am wearing.

Dagger in hand, I raise it high. Pausing to glance for the boy's face. He wakes up in time and sees me. He stiffens as I brought the dagger down.