‘What is it, Grandfather?’
‘It appears an audience is forming on the field.’
When Jaden turned he saw that Vennoss was right. Almost everyone in Callibra was now massing in the centre of the tennagen field.
‘We should join them,’ said Vennoss.
‘But what about the loh-korah, what is it?’ asked Jaden.
‘That would require a day’s study to truly understand. I will explain in time, for now, let us walk and join the others. If I am not mistaken, your father’s friend Kobin might be making an announcement I will not be supporting.’
Jaden followed Vennoss with Tarsha to the tennagen field. All three remained silent, as if hoping to hear what was being said in the gathering, but it was too far away. Vennoss had begun to jog, as he did not wish to miss what was being said, and in much less time than Jaden would have believed, they had all made it to the field. Jaden took a moment to catch his breath as Tarsha caught up, but only he seemed to be wondering why Vennoss had not even broken a sweat. For a man easily three times Jaden’s age, Vennoss seemed fitter than even the best athletes in the village. Travelling so far over the previous decades must have done very good things for his body, Jaden thought.
As they made their way through the audience, Jaden could hear Kobin speaking loudly at the centre, but could barely see him.
‘They will aid us in our time of need, so long as we make a sufficient contribution to their military personnel,’ said Kobin, his voice carrying easily over the silent crowd.
‘What’s he talking about?’ asked Jaden.
‘Hush,’ said Vennoss, ‘we need to hear this.’
‘Who do we send?’ asked a man in the audience.
‘Our population is not great in size,’ said Kobin, ‘and many do not have the strength to fight, so we will only send a percentage that might be useful. I propose that we use tennagen as the means of determining who goes and who stays.’
The villagers all whispered amongst themselves at this prospect. The sport had been used to decide so much in Callibrian history. Could it now be used to send young lives into battle, potentially to their deaths? A slim hope of glory would be all that accompanied them if they were lucky enough to survive. Many eyes turned to Jaden, as if expecting him to protest, but Jaden was busy trying to get a glimpse at Kobin through the audience. He was only able to see a line of heavily armoured soldiers standing near where he could hear Kobin speaking, and guessed this was why so many in the village seemed so willing to accept his word. Even his grandfather did not seem to wish to speak, instead, remaining very calm, taking in every word uttered around him.
‘This is madness! We can’t send our youth to war! They are our future!’ shouted a man.
‘Would you go in their place?’ asked Kobin, mockingly.
‘If we absolutely must agree to this ridiculous notion of war, then yes! How about you join me?’ the man retorted.
Jaden couldn’t hold back his smile. Even with armed guards standing either side Kobin could not get the respect he often demanded. From what Jaden had learned; Kobin was a troubled youth, often outcast and laughed at for his warped ideals and strange visions of the future. He often spoke about ruling the world, which just made Jaden wonder at why his father seemed so fond of him. Kobin was insane. Tyral was a good man and a great father. Was it out of sympathy that Tyral supported Kobin?
It made very little sense.
The crowd silenced as the soldiers standing either side of Kobin began to reposition their weapons, possibly a warning that no disrespect would be tolerated.
‘Volunteers will also be accepted,’ Kobin went on, ‘but there will be no substitutions. If you are chosen to go, then you will be escorted, wilfully or not.’
There was an audible grumble in the crowd as Kobin’s mood darkened. This was not a request for the village to join a nation in battle, but a demand, and Kobin was dictating the terms to them.
‘We don’t need help!’ shouted a woman.
‘No one would attack us!’ shouted another.
People were becoming restless as the realisation that their sons, daughters, sisters or brothers could potentially be sent away. It was not right. It was not the Callibrian way. How could Kobin, one of their own, be so cold as to even suggest that their young should fight in battles that hadn’t even come near them? The Callibrians trained daily to be ready for all of life’s challenges, but they had become so safe in their valley that their training had simply been used for daily difficulties, nothing as serious as war. There was nothing in their training that could have prepared them for it.
‘Your confidence is unfounded,’ said Kobin. ‘As we speak, entire forces are on their way.’