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When War Calls(34)

By:Zy J. Rykoa


Ahead he saw two men wearing maroon robes arguing. Both had long hair, one with golden brown, the other blonde and carrying a staff.

‘Father!’ called out Jaden.

Tyral turned slightly and revealed the man in front of him to be Kobin.

‘Jaden! Get home. Now! Get them to safety!’ yelled Tyral.

Jaden skipped sideways a couple of times as he passed them, wondering if he should first help his father fight Kobin before racing home, but quickly saw the wisdom in his father’s words and continued on his way.

‘This is not how it was meant to be!’ Tyral shouted at Kobin. ‘What have you done?’

The two men that had once been mistaken as brothers now faced off. Kobin remaining calm, Tyral reaching a state of panic like Jaden and his friends. It appeared Kobin was the only one that had been expecting what was to come, angering Tyral even further. Heated wind pushed Tyral’s thin cloak away from his impressive frame, the moving flaps tapping out an unpredictable rhythm and revealing a belt of tools and weapons underneath. He was prepared to fight, even with the sickness threatening to cripple him.

Tyral coughed, ‘Answer me!’

Kobin seemed slightly surprised and said simply, ‘I have done what was necessary.’

Tyral pointed with an open hand, ‘This? This is what was necessary? They are our people! They are the innocent! We are meant to protect them!’

Kobin shook his head in disappointment, ‘We are not Daijuarn, friend, we have only ourselves to protect, and our way of life.’

‘This is our way of life!’

Tyral’s words were barely heard as jets screamed over their heads, bombs lighting up the valley as they unleashed their deadly load.

‘How could you have done this?’ Tyral yelled. ‘I trusted you. We all trusted you! You’re a monster!’

‘This is what we wanted,’ Kobin said calmly.

‘This is madness! My family ...’

‘No, friend,’ Kobin interrupted, ‘it is an end to weakness that will give rise to strength.’

Several tanks and other ground vehicles were passing by on the trail, more reinforcements for what was about to come a full-scale assault. The last of the line came to a halt as it passed the men and a soldier called out to them, ‘Everything under control, sir?’

Kobin turned to him, ‘On your way, soldier.’

‘Your command, sir,’ he said, and continued with the unit.

Tyral became lost for words. The soldier had addressed Kobin as “sir”. He was an authority to these men. It had been this way all along. The military force was never coming to protect Callibra as Kobin had promised. They were never interested in the well-being of those who desired peace. They didn’t care for the natural habitat as they preached. They wanted land for their war efforts. They wanted a base from which to operate their offensive strikes against the United Resistance.

It had all been a lie. One giant, horrible lie.

Kobin had betrayed him and their people. He had allowed this military force to recruit the best of the village, and then he had authorised its destruction for political gain. He had used Tyral to gain credibility with the others from Callibra, as they knew they could trust him to do the right thing. And now they were all going to die for it.

Tyral clenched his fists, one firmly holding onto the staff. All these years they had travelled together, all the hardships they had shared, every time he had saved Kobin’s life, repaid with this. He could not bear the thought. He felt helpless, pitiful and alone.

It was all coming to an end.

He could do nothing to stop it.

‘Do you not see?’ Kobin took a step closer as if to console Tyral, ‘this is what we dreamed ... a new beginning, where we dictate the terms to the world. We now have an army at our bidding. I will rule the Alliance some day. Their leaders are weak and pathetic men. They will bow to me. With you as my right hand, we will conquer their cities.’

‘You have betrayed us.’

‘No. Embrace this future with me, friend, it is the way!’

‘No friend of mine,’ mumbled Tyral.

‘What?’

Tyral’s eyes were cold with hate and yet hot with rage, but Kobin’s features were gentle, masking the darkness of his own eyes. This was his way, Tyral realised, a false and evil charm often used to intimidate people into submission. It was how Tyral had agreed to the plans in the first place and overlooked all of the warning signs of Kobin’s true intentions.

‘Be at peace, friend, let them go, they were peasants compared to—’

Before Kobin had finished, he let out an agonised scream. He fell backward several paces, looking up in confusion at Tyral, who was now holding a knife high in one hand, his staff on the ground beside him. Kobin then felt the wetness seeping from his shoulder and touched it with his hand, confirming it to be his blood.