The wind howled as it rushed through the weaving alleys and tunnels of Silverreach. Hashim stood at the window, watching the snow whip against the glass with furious intensity. Clasping his hands behind his back, he turned and walked past four bunk beds before reaching his own. Of the twenty-four bunks, only one was still made. The rest had been stripped back and left vacant. Salah sat on the top bunk, looking solemnly into space. Hashim smirked slightly.

“Still sulking?”

“I’m not sulking, Hashim. I’m upset. We’re some of the most promising soldiers in our class. Why would we be the last to receive an assignment? Our classmates are halfway across Gahlal right now, and here we are, sitting by ourselves.”

Hashim sighed. Salah was right, after all. Four days ago, their entire group, made up of the 48 boys who slept in this hall, had been sat down and informed of their graduation. It had come as quite a surprise, considering they weren’t supposed to graduate for another six months. As it turned out, there had been an increasing number of skirmishes with Cleonian pirates near the Western coastal city of Owlcros, and the army could no longer wait half a year for an increase in their rank. They were told that all one thousand trainees would be marching out of their mountainous Eastern capital city, and across the nation to join the forces in Owlcros. But before Hashim and Salah had begun to pack, they were pulled aside and told that they would not be joining the others.

“Well, there’s no use worrying about it, is there? Didn’t Sophia say she thought it was because we had a more important assignment?”

“She thought that three days ago, sure, but why would command wait so long to give us our orders?”

Salah was good at hiding it, but Hashim could see that he was nearing despair. Salah was from a long line of soldiers and had no doubt been dreaming of his first assignment for a long time at this point. Hashim cared too, of course, but he had joined more out of spite than desire. He resented his upbringing among the intelligentsia of the city, and wanted to experience something different. It was clearly something much deeper for Salah.

“I’m sure it will be okay, Salah. Don’t you think Sophia is right? Why else would they keep behind one pair from each barracks? They must have some other purpose for us.”

Salah saw his logic and seemed to relax a bit. He sighed, and laid back in his bunk.

“You’re probably right. I’m going to try to get some rest now, it’s been a long day.”

Despite the absence of their classmates, the pair had been commanded to stick to their usual rigorous training schedule. Salah rolled over and Hashim reached for a thin book that lay beside his bed. Opening it to the first page, he read its title.

“A Brief Overview of the Known History of Ra’Khemi civilization“

He had borrowed the book from the city’s library a couple of days ago when he had started to grow bored. Like anyone in Lo’Et Sha’Eroth, he knew who the Ra’khem were. They were the first inhabitants of this land, and every society, culture, and religion based its legitimacy, at least in part, on a claim to the Ra’khemi legacy. Further than that, Hashim didn’t know much. Or at least, he hadn’t heard much he believed. Before finding this book, he had passed on titles such as Gahlal as Neo-Ra’khemia, Worship of the Above - AN AFFRONT TO RA’KHEMI HERITAGE, The Mistakes of Galyrian Scholars Regarding The Ra’Khemian Proclamation, and so on. He had settled on this particular text because it at least seemed to approach the topic without a specific aim.

The book was old, and the pages were filled with cramped, handwritten text. After leafing through the book for a second, Hashim began to read.

“One of the few things that can be known for certain about the Ra’khemi civilization, is that it began with a speech. More specifically, a wedding speech. This speech is known as the Ra’khemi proclamation. The giver of the speech, the wedding it was given at, and the location where it was given are unknown. Only one or two fragments survive, the first and fourth sentence from a single paragraph of a speech which many scholars estimate to be thirty or forty paragraphs long, based on later Ra’Khemi traditions. These fragments have been recorded below for reference… (Please note that the translation given here is the most recent published by the Silverreach College, and should not be taken as the only valid interpretation)”

Hashim looked to the bottom of the page, and read the two short lines written there. He had been taught these words, in their varying forms, as soon as he could speak, and their interpretations had been drilled into him throughout his education. Having grown up in the scholarly class, spending most of his time around academics, these words were rarely absent from any conversation or debate. Despite this, the potency of the words was still tangible.

 

“Heaven has come down upon us like Snow upon a Mountaintop, and the Depths of the Sea sing of the Sky.

—__=_-_-=_-=_=_==++. [missing]

——_====___++===. [missing]

Truly, having sung of your union, now and forever, like the Sea, may you sing of the Sky.”

 

As the author had noted, this was the translation Hashim was most familiar with. His teachers had emphasized the ways in which this translation reflected Gahlalian culture, and the culture of its inhabitants, the snoweyed people. It tended towards references to nature rather than abstract philosophical concepts, which was more popular in the interpretive tradition of Wirrshol, or the obscure translation employed by the Galyrians.

“After this speech, which marks the beginning of known history, the Ra’khemi society persisted for ten thousand years or so. Most scholars agree that the first nine and a half thousand years of this period were blissfully peaceful and prosperous.”

Hashim continued to read but soon felt himself growing drowsy. Putting the book down, he drifted into a light sleep.

Hashim and Salah were awoken by five sharp knocks at the door. They threw themselves out of bed. Five knocks meant everyone had to assemble in the auditorium. After splashing some water on his face and straightening up his uniform a bit, Hashim was ready to go. Salah had beat him to it, and he looked visibly relieved that they had finally been asked to assemble. The pair walked briskly down the hallway, past the twenty or so other barracks, and into the auditorium. Some other pairs already stood around, talking to each other in hushed voices. Snoweye soldiers always fought in pairs, in order to encourage an attitude of selflessness and dependence on others. As such, all trainees are assigned a partner who will accompany them through both their training and their career as a soldier.

Salah nudged Hashim, gesturing for him to follow. Together they walked over to join another pair. Sophia, a childhood friend of Salah’s stood with her partner, Humeera. Humeera was also of the scholarly class, but Hashim had never really spoken to her while they were growing up. The two of them exchanged a friendly nod, while Sophia and Salah began conversing enthusiastically.

“You were right, they’re totally going to send us somewhere important. Do you think it will be dangerous? They seem to have chosen the best-ranked pairs.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Highest rank? You and Hashim weren’t even the top of your barracks.”

Salah huffed. “Well, we should have been.”

“TRAINEES, PLEASE TAKE YOUR SEATS IMMEDIATELY.”

The loud voice of an instructor rang out. They needed no further prompting. The pairs ran quickly to find seating. There were forty or fifty people, all in all, making the auditorium, which was meant to seat hundreds, feel pretty empty.

“Thank you for your patience. When we sent your classmates away, we had limited information about your assignment, and since then, we have been figuring out some logistics.”

Instructor Sara was an elderly woman and a favourite among the students. She was a Saffremi, not a Snoweye, but her family had lived in Gahlal for generations. Still, though, some of the more nationalist students didn’t offer her the respect her position and dedication warranted. She was friendly, but strict when she needed to be. Today, however, her expression did not convey the same self-assurance. She looked concerned. Hashim observed this with anxiety.

“This may be a difficult assignment to understand, but you are going to be sent to Ironhorn.”

A murmur passed through the group and whispered conversations began immediately. Instructor Sara put up a hand and they fell quiet again.

“I will do my best to explain this to you,” she continued. “a little more than five hundred years ago, when the Galyrians swept across the continent, a treaty of non-aggression was signed between Gahlal and Wirrshol. This treaty, at one point, requires Gahlal to send Wirrshol five percent of its army in the case of a significant threat to the city of Ironhorn.”

Humeera leaned over. “What? We don’t exactly have a great relationship with Wirrshol. Why would we defend them? And since when has there not been a Galyrian threat against Ironhorn? They’ve been at its gates for a century!” Humeera was right. For the last seventy years or so, the border region between Gahlal and Wirrshol had seen a number of territorial disputes, and some minor, but vicious battles.

Sara continued. “This was agreed upon due to Ironhorn’s strategic importance to resistance against Galyrian encroachment upon Eastern, and Northern territories. Gahlal may have its differences with Wirrshol, but we do not break treaties. Hence, you are to begin marching today. When you arrive in Wirrshol, you will be under the command of their military until the threat against Ironhorn is dealt with.” She sighed and looked around the room. “Does anyone have any questions?”

Too many hands to count popped up. Sara nodded to a boy in the front. “You first.”

“There’s a Galyrian threat to Ironhorn? Are they going to invade?”

“Wirrshol has received notice that Galyrian troops are building up on the other side of the Ironhorn mountain range. They fear that an invasion could occur sometime in the next year.”

Most people put their hands down. This was upsetting news, to say the least. Everyone knew that Galyrian control of Ironhorn would mean Galyrian control of Wirrshol, and Galyrian control of Wirrshol meant an invasion of Gahlal.

A girl behind Hashim spoke up. “What about our classmates? They’re not going to fight pirates, are they?”

Sara sighed. “No. Well, some of them are. But most of them are there due to Owlcros’ closer proximity to the border. We don’t want to send more troops to Wirrshol than we have to, but in the case of an invasion, or a confirmed imminent invasion, we will be sending most of our force to assist with the defence.”

“Then why were we the ones chosen to go to Ironhorn?”

The girl seemed almost angry in her questioning. Hashim understood why. They had been left to feel like they had no use for the past four days, and now they were being assigned to march South, to a nation that hated them, on the basis of a centuries-old treaty.

“Well, I don’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings, but it wasn’t because you are exceptional in some way.”

Sophia smirked, and Salah shot her a glare.

“But, you are all very solid. You perform pretty well in training, you get along well with your partners, and you don’t have too many disciplinary infractions.”

The compliment seemed to calm the group briefly, before the reality of the situation settled in once more. “How long will it take to get there?” Someone asked.

“Four days of travel by horse. And these won’t be light days either. Soldiers from around Gahlal will be meeting us in Ironhorn.” With this Sara clasped her hands behind her back, signalling that this was the end of the meeting. The trainees stood. “Oh, and I’m sorry for the lack of ceremony, but you are all now full Gahlalian soldiers, may you serve your people with bravery and selflessness. Now, please return to your barracks to pack. We will depart in no more than an hour.”

Sara offered the assembled soldiers a sympathetic nod, then turned, and walked out of sight.

As she had promised, an hour later, Hashim and Salah found themselves riding slowly through the streets of Gahlal, towards the city gates. Snow whipped through Hashim’s hair, which had grown too long to keep out of his face, but wasn’t yet long enough to tie back. Shivering, he pulled his hood up. His horse showed no signs of discomfort. With long thick coats and hoofs bred to grip the ice, Gahlalian steeds were perfectly capable of riding long distances, even in the dead of winter.

As they rode, Hashim thought of his family. He wasn’t particularly close with them, in keeping with the traditions of the scholarly class, he had been raised mostly by hired caretakers, while his parents worked. Still, he would have liked to have been given a day to say goodbye to them, as troops generally are before normal assignments. It was becoming pretty evident that this was not, in fact, a normal assignment. As the line of horses began to file through the city gates, Salah brought his steed a little closer to Hashim’s.

“We’re leaving the most beautiful city in Eroth behind. Have you ever wondered what Wirrshol looks like?”

Hashim lied. “No.”

“Exactly, me neither. My father said it looks like Gahlal, just uglier.”

As they exited the gates, they looked back upon the city. It was nestled beneath towering mountains and overlooked the huge sound that separated them from the very north of Galyria. On a sunny day, one could just barely make out the coast on the other side. Hashim couldn’t help but feel relieved that today was not one of those days. As his horse carried him further from the city, he watched waves crash against ice in the distance.

Hashim tried to imagine the route in his head. Four days... It would certainly be tight.

They would ride West, and around the sound. Galyria controlled all the territory directly South of the inlet, but they had not managed to push any further. From there, they would ride south, and if they wanted to make it to Ironhorn in only four days, they would have to stay uncomfortably close to the Galyrian border.

They rode on in silence, and as they passed the last of Silverreach’s defences, Hashim looked out at the water in the distance, and the sky above it. When they met at the horizon like that, it reminded him of the Ra’khemi proclamation. He rolled the words around in his head now, as if hoping to hold on to some sense of the home he was riding away from.

“..like the Sea, may you sing of the Sky.”