May/June Tale 2024: Early Rain
Prompt: Bring about peace between two warring clans
Main Character:
Eirené: Duhelma, Jadonan-Kyrinae
Content Warning: The following story contains graphic depictions of violence and gore
Destruction. Devastation. War.
That is what filled the days of the border Burroughs of Jadon, stopping only during seasons of rain.
The beginning of the war between the Jadonan and the Kyrinae was unknown to the common Adonite, and for generations, there had been no end in sight.
In time, hope for a resolution ceased, and desperate prayers for early rain began.
“Incoming!”
Eirené grabbed the three children nearest to her and threw them and herself under the teacher’s desk just as a cannonball crashed into the wall a few feet away. Coughs and screams erupted into the air as dust and debris floated everywhere, being inhaled by those alive, and landing on the bodies of those who were no longer.
Eirené opened her eyes and saw Rashaad with his hands pressed against the lesson board knocked on its side, holding it up as a shield for him and the six children huddled behind him. Blood trickled from his hand as a large piece of shrapnel embedded itself into the other side of the board, making its way through the wood and partially into his skin.
Eirené raised her hand and signed to Rashaad. Cameel, Antreis, and Seria. Can you see them?
Rashaad nodded.
Are they alive?
His face was crestfallen.
Eirené took a sharp breath and closed her eyes, holding back tears that stemmed from her shattered heart.
Later, in a Shiloh not destroyed by the recent bombing, Eirené washed and cleaned Rashaad’s wound.
“You should get yourself checked as well,” Rashaad said.
“I will,” Eirené replied, “Once I finish patching you up.”
“And patching Rebeki,” he added knowingly. “And Umar, and making sure the others aren’t lying when they say they’re alright.”
Eirené huffed. “You know me too well, my friend.”
“I do know you, but I do not understand you.”
“You do not understand why I care about others?”
“I do not understand why you are here, in the Burroughs of Jadon.”
Eirené was silent as she grabbed a cloth to wrap around his wound.
“This is my home,” Rashaad continued. “These are my people.”
“They’re my people too, Rashaad.”
“But they didn’t have to be. I was born here, you chose to come here, where the stench of poverty and the carnage of war is the worst in all the lands. Why?”
Eirené finished wrapping the cloth and securely tied it. “You wouldn’t understand.”
She placed her free hand on top of his. “Now pray with me, for early rain.”
Eirené knelt on her knees and bowed her head, when an arrow whizzed right where she once stood a moment ago, and sunk itself into Rashaad’s chest.
As Rashaad fell back, the front door was thrown open and dozens more arrows flew through the door and windows.
The sounds of them sinking into stone walls and fleshly bodies mingled with the screams that once again filled the air as Kyrinae soldiers stormed into the Shiloh. A man who looked to be the general emerged last.
“Take into custody whoever still breathes.”
Eirené rested her head against the cold wall as she listened to the sounds of bombs in the distance.
Every day, her meal was thrown to her, along with a slew of putrid insults and slurs about her and the others in her cellblock by the guard who was stationed to keep watch during the morning hours. Every time he came on duty, Eirené closed her eyes and continued to pray for early rain.
One day as she prayed, the guard came with another by his side.
“You’ll be stationed to watch the prisoners at this hour now for the time being,” he said to the newcomer as he walked him down the row of cells.
They stopped in front of Eirené’s. “Keep a close eye on that one,” he said. “She’s not all there. Always muttering to herself with her wretched eyes closed. I wonder if insanity comes with being a tainted mixed-breed.”
The old guard laughed, but the newcomer did not join in.
“Save the stoicism for the battlefield, soldier,” the old guard said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Anywhere else and it’ll merely make the days go slower.”
He handed him the keys. “I’ll leave you to it.” The old guard left the room and closed the door. Leaving the newcomer alone with a tray of rice bowls for each of them. He looked young—no more than nineteen or twenty. He was soft-spoken and almost cordial each time he slipped the meals through the bars for each of the prisoners. When he made it to Eirené’s cell, he did the same.
“His comments toward you were uncouth, unnecessary, and untrue,” the new guard said.
“How would you know?” Eirené asked under her breath. “How would you know I am not what he says I am? Not all there with my ‘mutterings to myself?’”
“Because those mutterings were prayers, weren’t they?”
Eirene looked at him. And he gave her a somber but understanding smile.
“I was raised in the knowledge of Hahna, the Father Above. Raised with the understanding that He is just, and that He is good.”
He slid her food through the bars. “And I too pray for early rain.”
The guard’s name was Kianu. A young man from a family of high social status back in the land of Kyrin, one who was forced to enter this war via a decree requiring every able-bodied Kyrinae male age 16 and older to enlist. Back home he left behind his betrothed, who had promised to be waiting for him under a berry blossom tree when he returned.
Eirené prayed he would make it back.
“May I ask a question?” Kianu asked Eirené one day.
“You may.”
“I saw some of your documents that were confiscated from the Shiloh we found you all in. It said that this Jadonan Burrough is not your place of birth. If that is the case, why would you come here, knowing full well how dangerous it would be during the dry season?”
Eirené looked at him calmly. “Because the Creator told me to.”
Kianu’s almond eyes grew wide.
“His voice was clear as day,” she continued. “As clear as yours and mine are now.” Eirené rested her head on the bars and closed her eyes. “I had so much opposition from everyone, but I knew I had to follow the calling of the Creator, no matter where it took me. Whether the highest of hills or the darkest of valleys.”
“Why do you think He brought you here?” Kianu asked.
Eirené looked away. “My name, Eirené, means peace. In some small way, I hope it has something to do with that.”
Kianu never treated her as if she were some creature, but instead, like she was a fellow Adonian worthy of respect. This made the weeks that came bearable for a time, but all that changed the day it was no longer him who brought her daily meal.
“Where’s Kianu?” she asked the new guard.
“Who said you could talk, tainted wench,” he sneered.
“Where’s Kianu?” she repeated.
“I do not know. He didn’t come back from the battlefield yesterday. He and a few others fell off the border’s edge and disappeared. Just my luck too, now I am the one who has to deal with all of you.”
Eirené’s heart ached in her chest. Her mind went to Kianu’s betrothed back home. The tears welled in her eyes at the thought of her waiting in vain.
“Give her peace Yaha,” Eirené prayed. “When the news reaches her.”
“Quit that,” the guard said. “Now.”
She didn’t, and the guard threw her meal at her. The bowl smashed into her bowed head, and the food splashed all over her.
“Míchin manyeo,” he snarled before moving to the next cage.
The weeks turned into months. Many of the others cried out in hatred toward their captors, but Eirené never did. All she did was pray for release, pray for Kianu’s betrothed, and pray for early rain.
The door outside her cell block opened and the guard came in. When he made his way toward her, instead of throwing the bowl like normal, he bent down and held it out through the bars. Eirené glared at him hesitantly.
“C’mon,” the guard said, shaking the bowl of rice. “Come and get it.”
For a moment Eirené didn’t, but the deep pang in her stomach caused her to relent. She crawled over and reached for the bowl. As soon as she did, the guard dropped it, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her forward. As her face pressed against the bars, he reached out his free hand and grabbed her neck.
“Let me ask you a question,” he sneered, tightening his grip. “Why do you care what happens in this war? Your tainted kind are ostracized and hated on both sides. Just because you’ve got both Jadonan and Kyrinae blood in your veins doesn’t make you immune from that. If anything, it makes you more putrid. To think one of my brothers or sisters would ever choose to consummate with one of them is disgusting to even consider. I’d love to live in ignorance of the notion of that ever happening, but your eyes…” He yanked her head to the side, forcing her eyes into the light, making her irises glow green and blue. “Your eyes, when they shine, remind me every time.”
The guard turned her head again and forced her to look at him. “Maybe…”
He pulled out a dagger. “Maybe if they’re gone, I can forget again.”
Eirené, struggling for air, tried to pull from his grasp but he wouldn’t let her go. The guard slammed her back into the bars and traced her sockets with the tip of the blade.
“Yeah, yeah I think that will work.”
As he raised the knife above his head, the walls exploded behind him. Blood spattered onto Eirené’s face as a large block of debris slammed into the guard, crushing his head against the bars.
Screams erupted from the adjacent cells. Eirené watched in horror as the guard spasmed once, twice, thrice, then his hands released their grip on her and the knife, and his body went limp.
Eirené gasped as she hunched over and rubbed her bruising neck. Once she was able to keep herself from shaking she reached out toward the guard’s corpse, pulled the keys off his belt, and went to unlock the cell door.
The two cells nearest to her were riddled with debris. The prisoner on her right was alright, the one on her left, his arm and left side of his face bled profusely.
Eirené opened all the cells, and everyone rushed out to their freedom.
Once all the surviving prisoners escaped, she tried to do the same and was blown back by the air pressure of a cannonball landing several yards away. She rolled to her side and clutched her ringing ears. As chaos roared all around her, Eirené closed her eyes and prayed fervently for early rain.
The hill
Eirené froze at the sound of the Creator’s voice. Though the war raged on all around her, the sounds of screams, cannons, and clashing blades faded into nothingness, all she could hear was Him.
Get to your feet and go to the top of the hill.
The sounds of war returned. Without a second thought, Eirené rose and ran to the hill as fast as she could just as she was told.
Once at the top, Eirené could see the carnage below. Bombs and arrows flew, and death ran rampant on both sides. It was a massacre.
Speak to them.
“What would I even say?” Eirené prayed aloud. The battle raged on.
I will give you the words.
“They won’t listen…”
The sounds of bloodshed grew louder as the battle heightened. Eirené bowed her head. “They wouldn’t even be able to hear.”
Do you trust Me, my child?
She did not hesitate. “I do.”
Then speak. And I shall speak through you.
Tears welled in Eirené’s eyes. She clenched her fists, raised her head, and spoke.
“Kyrin and Jadon,” she said. “Hear me, now!”
The clashing of blades and the shooting of arrows ceased. Many stood, petrified, while the others looked around in confusion.
“Is this how you want to be known?” Eirené continued. “Filled with hatred and rage over a matter long forgotten by the heartbeats of time?”
One soldier turned his gaze upward, then another, and another. Kyrinae and Jadonan alike all looked to the heavens.
“We each are made in the Father’s image. We have our differences, but we are all Adonite. This bloodshed must end.”
There were two in the crowd who did not look up to the heavens, but instead at her. One man and one woman, both translucent, shimmering the colors of the lineages they themselves began: Kyrin and Jadon, the father of the Jadonan and the mother of the Kyrinae.
Ereiné stared down at the spirits of two of the Original Twelve, her heart pounding and her mouth open wide as words continued to flow.
“Remember Imanuel. Whose eyes shone crimson like the purest of rubies. A shine that faded as the blood spilled from his chest, out from his heart, and covered the ground, along with your hands.”
This was a name she never knew and a story she’d never heard, yet it emerged from her with such force it was as if she had witnessed it first hand.
“If you do not stop, one of you will fall, and it will no longer be only crimson absent from Adonite eyes.”
Kyrin and Jadon looked down at their hands and then at each other, before disappearing in a flash of green and blue gradient light.
Eirené’s energy drained from her body as the words from her mouth ceased. There was silence, then a shift in the air as the sounds of swords and crossbows clattering to the ground filled the plains.
Eirené’s shaking legs collapsed from under her. A joyous sob escaped her lips as she bowed her head and thanked the Creator with everything she had left.
Tears streamed down her face onto the warless ground below.
It was over.
Early rain had come.
He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
He burns the chariots with fire.
Psalm 46:9