Soul of the Fire

"You prove your filthy Haken nature by trying to defend the indefensible-your self-centered arrogance, your pride in yourself, your pride in a uniform. You all hunger to be Haken overlords. Everyday, as Anders, we must suffer such Haken abuse."

"Forgive me, Master Spink. I was wrong. I wore it out of pride. I was wrong to let my sinful Haken nature rule me."

Master Spink grunted his contempt, but then went on with the lesson. Knowing he deserved more, Fitch sighed, grateful to be let — off so easy.

"With the menfolk murdered, that left the women and children of the village defenseless."

The boots thunk, thunk, thunked as the man started out again, walking among the Hakens sitting on simple benches. Only after he had started away did Fitch dare to get up off his hands and knees and once more take his seat on the bench. His ear chimed something awful, like when Beata had struck him. Master Spink's words bored through that hollow ringing.

"Being Hakens, of course, they decided to go through the village and have their wicked fun."

"No!" a woman in back cried out. She fell to sobbing.

Hands clasped behind his back, Master Spink walked on, ignoring the interruption. There were frequently such interruptions.

"The Hakens, wishing a feast, went to the village. They were of a mind for some roasted meat."

People fell to their knees, trembling with fear for the people they had come to know. Benches all over the room scuffed against the floor as most of the rest of the people in the room also went down on their knees. Fitch joined them.

"But it was a small village, as you know. After the Hakens slaughtered the livestock, they realized there wasn't enough meat. Hakens, being Hakens, didn't want for a solution for long.

"The children were seized."

Fitch wished for nothing so much as he wished for the lesson to be over. He didn't know if he could bear to hear any more. Apparently, some of the women were of the same mind. They collapsed to their faces on the floor, hands clasped, as they wept and prayed to the good spirits to watch over those poor, innocent, slain Ander people.

"You all know the names of those children. We will now go around the room and you will each give me one of the names you have learned, lest we forget those young lives so painfully taken. You will each give me the name of one of the children from that village-little girls and little boys-who were roasted alive in front of their mothers."

Master Spink started at the last row. Each person in turn, as he pointed to them, spoke the name of one of those children, most beseeching after it that the good spirits watch over them. Before they were allowed to leave, Master Spink described the horror of being burned alive, the screams, the pain, and how long it took for the children to die. How long it took for their bodies to cook.

It was so grisly and sinister a deed that at one point, for just the briefest moment, Fitch considered for perhaps the first time whether the story could really be true. He had trouble imagining anyone, even the brutal Haken overlords, doing such a horrific thing.

But Master Spink was Ander. He wouldn't lie to them. Not about something as important as history.

"Since it's getting late," Master Spink said, after everyone had given a child's name, "we will leave until next assembly the story of what the Haken invaders did to those women. The children, perhaps, were lucky not to have to see their mothers used for such perversions as the Hakens did to them."

Fitch, along with the rest of the assembly behind him, burst through the doors when they were dismissed, glad to escape, for the night, the penance lesson. He had never been so glad for the cool night air. He felt hot and sick as the images of such a death as those children suffered kept going through his head. The cool air, at least, felt good on his face. He pulled the cool purging air into his lungs.

As he was leaning against a slender maple tree beside the path to the road, waiting for his legs to steady, Beata came out the door. Fitch straightened. There was enough light coming from the open door and the windows so she would have no trouble seeing him-seeing him in his new messenger's outfit. He was hoping Beata would find it more appealing than did Master Spink, "Good evening, Beata."

She halted. She glanced down the length of him, taking in his clothes.

"Fitch."

"You look lovely this evening, Beata."

"I look the same as always." She planted her fists on her hips. "I see you've fallen in love with yourself in a fancy uniform."

Fitch suddenly lost his ability to think or speak. He had always liked the way the messengers looked in their uniforms, and had thought she would, too. He had been hoping to see her smile, or something. Instead, she glared at him. Now he wished more than anything he had just gone home straightaway.

"Master Dalton offered me a position-"