Blood and Amber
By Caleb Child
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Part 1: Death and Rebirth
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Acknowledgment
This story was inspired by The Saga of Tanya the Evil (Youjo Senki), by Carlo Zen;145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNM1NBKbcoh
particularly in regards to the world setting.
So if you notice an occasional similarity or parallel, that's why.
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Chapter 01 – Our Hero Dies
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My name is Amber Darkwood. I serve as a soldier for the Argus Empire. I enlisted in the Army when I was only eight years old and began fighting when I was nine.
If you are reading this, then I am dead.
I made this record because I want the truth to be known; I want it to be known how such a young girl could become such a powerful and renowned warrior. But I can't bring myself to tell anyone the truth while I am yet alive, and so, I leave this record, that perhaps posthumously the world may know the truth of my story.
General Greenfield stopped reading for a moment and looked up at the young soldier who had handed him Amber's diary. It felt... wrong, to be prying into the personal history of the most powerful mage in the history of the Empire.
But yet, this was her wish, was it not? Clearly, it was Amber's intention that this be read now.
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When the historians look back on my service and ask how a nine-year-old girl managed to be fighting on the frontlines, I am sure they will point to General Erwin Greenfield. On paper he may seem like the one responsible. I doubt there will be any records that reveal how he was the one who tried the hardest to prevent me from serving at that age. But I digress.
The truth is that my achievements were possible because of a man named Darren Culver. But no historical records will ever be found with his name on them. There exists no acknowledgment of the country he was born in, nor of the language he spoke, nor the religion he believed in, nor of any of the history he witnessed. And yet he lived, and yet he witnessed.
But there is no evidence of Darren, because he was born and lived in a different world. He came from a country called America, he spoke English, and he had a beautiful wife named Odessa.
I alone know of these things, for you see, I am Darren.
I died when I was 43 years old. When I died, for reasons I cannot claim to know nor fathom, I found myself reborn into a new body, on a completely different world, and I was given the name Amber Darkwood. I retained all of my prior memories, knowledge, and experience. While I may have served in the military with the body of a nine-year-old girl, I possessed the mind of a man now 52.
General Greenfield lowered the diary with an expression of pure disbelief.
“What...”
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About ten years earlier...
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A platoon of Argan soldiers sat comfortably in their encampment, or at least as comfortable as they could be in the starch heat of the Hurian savanna. It may have been spring, but it didn't feel like any spring they were used to. Most took the opportunity of the quiet moment to get a drink or splash some water around their faces and necks. Erik Darkwood, however, pulled a letter out of his breast pocket, unfolded it, and began reading it once again.
“I swear, that's the twelfth time you've read that letter,” Private Lorenz called out to him. “If you keep it up you're gonna wear all the ink off!”
Darkwood looked up with a smirk on his face. “I'm just having a hard time believing it, I guess. I'm going to be a father.”
Lorenz's face grew a little more serious. “Oh? Well, congratulations then. ...Do you have a name already picked out yet?”
Darkwood's face grew a little softer. “Well, in the letter she said she was thinking of 'Amber' if its a girl, but she doesn't have any ideas yet if its a boy.”
“That's a pretty name; is it from someone in your wife's family?”
Darkwood lowered his head a little shamefully. “Actually, uhh...” He cleared his throat. “Actually she's not my wife. Well, not yet, I suppose.”
Private Fiser spoke up. “Not actually your wife?” he repeated. “Well that's no good. She can't get a widow's pension if you're not actually married.”
Lorenz leaned over and slapped Fiser aggressively. “Don't say stuff like that! Don't you have any common sense?!”
Fiser put a hand over the offended side of his face while Lorenz shook his head.
Darkwood sighed and began folding the letter again. 'Well, he is right, though...' he thought somberly.
A moment later the awkward silence was broken as a scout yelled out “We've got hostiles coming in from the North!”
Erik quickly stuffed the letter back into his breast pocket and grabbed his rifle. They all dashed over to the pile of sandbags that lined the encampment. They peered across the distance and saw a massive wave of Hurians spill out from between the hills, charging their way across the green grass.
“From the North!” Erik called out, “I told you they'd come that way! These ones ain't stupid!”
Lorenz scoffed, “Stupid or not, they're all a bunch of savages!”
“Savages smart enough to use guns!”
The riflemen were already formed into a line as the three other machine-gunners moved their weapons to the northern side of the encampment. Fiser was already set in position and had racked the belt through. He pointed it toward the enemy and waited with his thumb against the trigger.
The lieutenant blew his whistle and the sound of gunfire instantly filled the air. A score of Hurian warriors fell to the ground.
As Darkwood chambered his next round he felt concern over how few of them seemed to get hit. Two more of the machine guns began pumping bullets into the crowd as the riflemen took aim. Another volley of rifle-fire was unleashed. The man Darkwood had been aiming at took no hits. 'Something's not right here...'
The Hurians were relying on numbers more than formation. A few seemed to shoot while running, although most had the sense to stop and aim; a few even dropped to a knee first. But even without the strict training, a rifle was still a rifle, and a bullet was still a bullet. Shots began flying into the Imperials' encampment.
Fiser screamed and tumbled back, grasping his arm as blood spilled out from it.
“Fiser!” Lorenz yelled, darting over to him.
Darkwood dropped his rifle and jumped to Fiser's machine gun. He wrapped his hands around the spade grips, lifted the safety, and pressed his thumbs into the trigger. Bullets began firing in rapid succession as the lever on the side rocked back and forth in tandem.
The first few warriors that Darkwood targeted quickly fell down, but as he aimed at the man he tried to hit earlier, his shots somehow missed again.
He paused for a moment. 'What is going on here?!'
A shadow was passing over the oncoming warriors as the clouds moved across the sky. It was then that Darkwood finally noticed it: that warrior was somehow brighter than all the others; in fact he seemed to be glowing.
'Oh no!' He turned his head back and yelled, “Decoys! They are making illusions with magic!”
He heard another voice respond, “Mages?! Shit!”
“Lieutenant Kaplan!” Darkwood yelled, “Get on the radio! Tell them we've got magic-users here!”
Erik could only faintly hear the lieutenant's voice as he yelled back towards the far end of the encampment. “Radio! We need backup!”
He looked back out toward the crowd of Hurian warriors. Which ones were real? He looked carefully for that faint glow and picked different targets. He counted five different glowing people, although there were only three faces between them.
As the crowd thinned a little more, one came into view that looked suspiciously similar to the decoy he had shot at earlier. In fact, he moved exactly in sync with that decoy. 'That's the real one!' Darkwood fired.
A sphere of transparent yellow light enveloped the man. Small points that were nearly opaque indicated the exact spots where the bullets hit the invisible magic shield. Soon two more yellow spheres began appearing around another two warriors.
'Of course their mages would have shields! Why wouldn't they have shields?!'
“Keep firing!” Lieutenant Kaplan yelled out, “Focus on the mages! Their magic can't last forever!”
'But neither can our bullets!'
The Hurian mage closest to the front paused and aimed his rifle. The rifle began to glow. Suddenly a streak of yellow light shot out of the weapon's barrel, hitting one of the machine guns where it exploded into a ball of fire.
The remaining machine guns all targeted the same mage, but the bullets just continued to harmlessly bounce off his magic shield. He didn't even look tired.
'We're done for...' Erik thought.
Suddenly, five blue streaks of light shot forth out of the sky overhead, slamming into the crowd of warriors where they exploded into plumes of fire and dirt.
Everyone paused to look up. There in the sky behind them were five men wearing Argan uniforms with aluminum wings strapped to their backs. They paused directly above the encampment and hovered there with their rifles raised. Their rifles began glowing, and then in unison fired another volley of blue streaks of light that erupted into explosions on the ground.
The Hurian warriors began shooting at the airborne soldiers, but their bullets never hit the men. Instead, blue spheres of light appeared around them as each shot only hit an invisible shield.
“Yeah!” Lorenz yelled out, “Take that you backwater sons of bitches! Can your mages fly?!”
The two groups of mages began firing at each other with their magically-enhanced rifles. Explosions wrapped around the glowing spheres. One of the Hurians' shield shattered into shards of yellow light, and the warrior collapsed to the ground. A moment later so did a second one.
The last Hurian mage pointed his rifle away from the mages in the sky. Erik Darkwood could just barely make out the expression on the man's face. It was one of contempt; the look of a man who refused to go down alone. His rifle glowed as he took aim at the nearest of the machine guns, and he looked Erik squarely in the eyes as he pulled the trigger.
The force of the explosion knocked Erik squarely onto his back. It happened so fast that the only reason he knew it happened was because he was now staring at the sky. He heard nothing but a ringing in his ears. He tried to move; he looked down and saw blood covering his torso, and oddly shaped red and black tears all across his abdomen. The blood was quickly soaking up through his uniform, even reaching his breast pocket where Sara's letter was partially sticking out.
The blood started soaking into the letter.
'No... Sara... Our child... I was going to be... a father...'
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Darren held Odessa in his arms, fondly looking down at the Desi woman. Her brown face looked back at him, framed by long black hair with streaks of silver that cascaded down to her pristine white wedding gown. They both smiled warmly at each other.
“Now look back at me,” the photographer called out. The newlywed couple complied. “Perfect,” she announced, and took a few more pictures. She looked back down to her camera's display and it beeped as she moved through a menu. She walked up to the couple and showed them the display. “The first few look gorgeous, with the way the sun brought out the red in your hair,” she motioned toward Darren, “but with these clouds coming in now, I don't think we're going to get any better shots than this one.”
Darren and Odessa both looked at the screen. It was a beautiful image of them, perfectly framed with the temple in the background, the brass trumpet of the angel statue touching the top edge of the image. His auburn hair looked almost red, and the details of Odessa's face were clear.
“It looks amazing, thank you!” Odessa called out.
Darren nodded. “Do you need the address for the reception, or do you just want to follow us over?”
The photographer shook her head as she slipped her camera back into its bag. “No it's alright, I've been there before, I know how to get there.”
“Okay, we'll see you there then.” They nodded and waved as she made her way over to the parking lot. Darren walked over to the bench where they had set down their suitcases, slung one over his shoulder, pulled up the handle and the other, and began rolling it toward the parking lot.
As they approached the gunmetal-gray 4Runner, Odessa called out in surprise “Why is there a canoe strapped to your roof? Where did that come from?”
“It's my brother's,” Darren replied, “there's a lake by the resort we're staying at tomorrow, and when I was by his place last night he suggested I take it. If we don't use it, we don't use it; but at least now it's an option.” He gently slapped the canoe's exterior. “It's a bit heavy, so I won't be too upset if we never take it down.”
Darren lifted Odessa's large suitcase and slipped it inside the under-turned boat.
“Why don't you just put it in the car?” Odessa asked.
Darren grunted as he finished ramming the baggage through the exposed opening. “I thought I'd leave the back of the car empty so we can put all the wedding gifts there.” He lifted the back gate and grabbed some bungee cords.
Odessa's head nodded with light wonderment. “Oh, that's right! ...Are we really going to be getting that many though? I thought wedding gifts were more for young couples, to give them things they'd need for their new home. We never set up a registry; between the two of us we already have two full kitchens; we don't need more silverware.”
Darren finished securing the luggage. “Honestly, I don't know, and I'm hoping we don't get any gifts, really; I don't need more junk. But I know my mother; there's no way she's not giving me wedding presents.”
“Oh,” Odessa said softly. A warm countenance seemed to slowly wash over her face. She giggled quietly.
“What is it?” Darren asked.
“It's just... I just realized, she's my mother now.” She looked warmly into Darren's eyes while softly rubbing his arm. “...And I haven't had parents in a very, very long time.” She tilted her head back and pushed her face forward as if to kiss, and Darren leaned down to gently press his lips against his wife's.
“I'm glad I could help,” he said with a tender voice. A moment later he cocked an eyebrow as a wry smile crept across his face. “I guess tonight I could help you become a mother yourself.”
Odessa playfully pretended to be indignant. “Nope, too late.” She walked to the passenger door with a mockingly callus demeanor. “You should have taken me two weeks ago; that was my last egg.” She opened the door and hopped onto the seat.
“What?!” Darren cried out with a melodramatic flair. “Ahwww!” he howled with the same tone as he climbed into the driver's seat.
The doors closed and the two looked at each other with soft smiles. “What was it you said that night, when we were on the couch?” Odessa asked, “That you've waited 43 years, so you can wait another two weeks?”
“And two weeks later what's on my mind right now is: God will bless us for keeping His commandments.”
“So, you really do think there are children in our future?”
“If not in this world, there's always the next one.”
Tiny “patt” “patt” noises pierced the quiet atmosphere as water droplets began hitting the windshield.
“Oh hey,” Darren said, “we're getting a little rain on our wedding day.”
“Honey, I've lived in Utah for over twenty years, and I've never seen anything here I would call 'rain.'”
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The drive to the reception was almost uneventful.
Almost.
Darren looked at the passenger seat where his bride was seated. His eyes came into focus on Odessa's wedding dress, and its pristine white lace pattern. It was easy to focus on the gown because that's where the blood was. The large bloody spot seemed to swell, eating more of the pristine white gown, and the blood began dripping upward into her face.
Darren tried to move but his face was pressed firmly against the roof of his car, and the weight of his body had it pinned too tightly to move. He could only stare at Odessa as her eyes trembled.
“Odessa, you're bleeding!” is what he tried to say, but he couldn't make any sounds come out of his mouth.
Odessa's whole face started to gently tremble. She tried to move her arm and her body slid down further against the roof of the car.
“Odessa,” he tried to say, but again nothing came out. He tried to force his breath, harder, and harder, but nothing happened.
The edges of Darren's vision grew dark. Slowly, everything was growing dark. 'No... Please, she's everything I really wanted...' And then he couldn't see her at all. 'No, let me at least tell her...' He wanted to say something, anything, but he was powerless; he could not get a breath out.
He tried to force a breath, but it just couldn't happen. He tried to scream, but there was nothing.
He just wanted... to scream.
And then, pain.
Unbelievable pain, as if every cubic inch of his body was roaring, every single nerve racing to shriek its torment. Every ounce of his body felt like it was being crushed; crushed and compacted.
He drew in a breath, and at last he screamed.
He screamed with all his fury, he screamed because it was all he could do. He wailed and kicked and tried to move his arms. His voice sounded strained; it came through with a strained and higher tone.
Darren opened his eyes, he wasn't in his car anymore, he was in a room somewhere. A woman's face loomed over him. The blonde-haired woman was sweaty and looked exhausted, as if she had been laboring on something intense. And yet there was a profound look of joy on her face.
Darren stopped screaming and tried to look around. His head felt heavy, and he couldn't quite move it to see anything around him. He couldn't quite open his eyes fully; they were wet, probably with blood.
The woman leaned closer, and she seemed somehow massive. Her face looked normal, all her proportions were just an average-sized woman, but somehow she was abnormally large. So large, that her arms came around Darren's whole body. She started to wrap Darren in a sheet, while smiling.
'What are you doing lady? Take me to the hospital! Why are we just in some room? Is this like the beginning of Misery? Did you take me to your house instead of the hospital? Where is my wife?! My wife is bleeding to death!' He tried to speak, but his mouth moved too slowly. He fidgeted and managed to pull his left arm out of the sheet. His hand was incredibly swollen; his whole arm was swollen.
The blonde-haired woman spoke with a soft tone, making cooing sounds, but the language was completely foreign. She held up a finger towards Darren's face. Darren reached out and grabbed it. It was so large that he couldn't bring his fingers completely around it. His fingers were so swollen that his hand looked like...
And then something clicked in Darren's mind. His hand wasn't swollen, his hand was tiny, like a baby's hand.
He looked up at the woman. Her face was smiling, but strained, as if she had just performed a great labor...
'It can't be... Was I just... born?'
The new mother softly spoke in the unfamiliar language, “My little Amber...”
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Darren found his new life to be unbearable on more levels than he could have imagined.
Being an infant without the strength to keep his own head held up was an unpleasant experience to begin with. Trying to understand just where he was and what was going on when nobody spoke a language he recognized was more than aggravating. Feeding off of his new mother's teat made him feel deeply insulted; it was fine for a baby, but it was a slap-in-the-face to man with so many years of sexual frustration. Plus the experience was soon followed by his new mother pounding his back until he threw up part of his meal. And Darren hated throwing up.
But few of the tortures he was presented with could compare to the single agonizing question that no one would be able to answer: Did Odessa survive? Few of his tortures could compare with the haunting memory of seeing her face covered with blood. Few, but there was one thing that crushed his soul far more than anything else: the nagging fear that he would forget her. The nagging fear that maybe this sort of rebirth was normal, that everyone gets reincarnated and over time his memories were going to get washed away.
The mental turmoil made it hard for Darren to sleep.
He thought at first that it was making it hard for him to eat as well, but after a couple days he became aware that his new mother wasn't eating very much. He noticed it especially after his third night, which they hadn't even spent indoors. Towards the end of his first week, he was certain that his new mother wasn't producing as much milk as he needed.
When he was seven days old, they came to a large old building filled with many children attended to by several women all wearing similar black garments. They didn't quite look like the nuns Darren saw on TV and movies, but they were close enough that he understood fully what was going on, even though no one else spoke English.
'She's doing the right thing,' Darren thought to himself, 'it's the right thing and it's a really hard thing, too. I'm proud of her for making this decision.' He watched as she went out the door, certain that he would never see her again. He made sure that he didn't cry until she was gone.
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As the days went on, Darren began to understand more of his situation. He was starting to pick out his new name between the other words; it sounded like his name was Amber. At one point while getting a bath, he managed to confirm that he was indeed now a girl, a fact that she had been suspicious of for quite a while. It wasn't easy for her to accept, and she carried a certain resentment toward it.
She was also growing more and more suspicious that she wasn't in the same world anymore. The books were not printed with any alphabet she knew, and the rosaries the nuns wore did not bear crosses, but an inverted triangle made of two smaller triangles.
Having little else she could do, Amber spent much of her time simply in her memories, trying to cling to every piece of information she could, still worrying that they would begin to slip away from her mind. Her memories didn't fade; but the anxiety stayed with her for a very long time.
She was granted a second childhood, but it was a gift Amber could not accept.
The bitterness in her heart was too strong.
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So why did I join the military? Especially at such a young age, just after we began a war?
Well truthfully, there is no single answer to that question. It's a bit of a complex web of emotions and reasons that I have struggled with. Perhaps by the time I finish this memoir the full picture will become clear.
But if there is one facet that is dominant, it is this: I needed purpose.
And that purpose? Well, first I need to explain a few of the differences between this world and the one I grew up in.
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The Stonsberg Public Library was in a building about the size of a church, and its stone architecture made it look like a church except for its lack of a steeple. Two nuns led a small group of five orphan children inside and then began rubbing their hands together to help remove the winter chill. The building was well-lit with numerous electric lights connected with metal tubing that had been added a few years ago. There would have been a fair amount of light coming through the windows, but the heavily overcast sky weakened the natural light.
Sophia looked over to the two younger girls in the group. “I've been here before,” she proudly announced, “all the fun books are all upstairs!”
Emma reciprocated her enthusiasm, “Let's go there first!”
The youngest girl did not seem so amused. “That's fine; you do you.”
Sophia began dashing toward the stairs while Emma excitedly followed. Sister Moser called out to them “Wait, don't run inside!” She followed after them with a hustled pace while Niklas and Marvin followed behind her.
Sister Band was about to follow behind the two boys when she saw that the youngest of the children wasn't following the others. This sandy-blonde and freckle-faced four-year-old girl remained on the ground floor, carefully pacing around while looking at the shelves. There was something in her demeanor that didn't look quite like the normal wonderment of a child, but almost like she was actually searching for something.
“Amber,” Sister Band called out, and the young girl promptly looked back at her, “The children's books are all upstairs.”
“I was looking for something,” she called back.
Sister Band felt only a little surprised. “What are you looking for?”
Amber walked back in her direction but continued past her. She paced up to one of the librarians standing behind a counter. “Excuse me,” Amber stated, “Do you have books... um, with pictures of places?”
The librarian smiled. “All our picture books are upstairs,” she said, “where your friends went.”
“No no, um...” Amber shook her head in annoyance. 'Dang it, what is the word for 'map' in this language? I know I've heard it before...' Amber stood in thought for a moment. “A book with land... pages of land?”
After a momentary puzzled look, the librarian lit up. “Oh! You mean an atlas!” She walked out from behind the counter and strode over to a section on the North side of the building where a table sat between two thick bookcases. She quickly perused through a collection of large books and grabbed one that was very tall and wide but not at all thick. “Is this what you're looking for?” She opened the book and flipped through colorful pages of cartography.
“Ah, yes!” Amber replied, smiling for the first time that day. She was excited at the chance to finally get some answers. For one, she wanted to confirm that she was indeed on a different world, and not the victim of some time-travel shenanigans. The new letters and language she was learning suggested that it was a different world, but there was still some uncertainty that she wanted to put to rest.
The librarian began speaking, “I'm afraid you can't take this one home with you, but you can look at it all you want while you are here.”
“Is there a page that shows... everything? The world?” Amber continued to smile. Her second (and truer) reason for wanting the map was because she was looking forward to seeing what a different world really looked like.
In her past life, Darren had seen many fictitious and fantasy maps, mostly as part of the role-playing and strategy games he enjoyed. He recalled someone once complaining about crescent-shaped islands in fantasy maps, stating that such formations don't exist anywhere in the real world, despite the fact that they were in so many RPG maps. The complaint spurred a lot of thoughts for Darren; he began to notice many qualities to fantasy maps that made them seem more (or less) realistic than others. But he also realized that there was only one planet people could use for comparison, so why did people have so many ideas of what kind of landmasses and continental configurations were “realistic?” Maybe some formations were reasonable, but just happened to not occur on their planet.
Amber was excited to now be able to see what a real foreign world would look like. 'I hope I get to see a crescent-shaped island. Or maybe there will be some magical floating continent; that would be so cool!' She doubted there would be floating continents, but she couldn't keep herself from hoping anyway.
The librarian smiled and walked over to the table, setting the book on the corner. As she opened it back up and began turning the pages she looked over to Sister Band. “She seems to know what she wants.” She turned to the first map in the atlas and then spun the book around to face the child. She pointed at one of the landmasses. “This is the Argus Empire; that's where we live.”
Amber felt like she was slapped in the face by a truck. Her lips began trembling. She placed her fingers over her mouth in utter shock.
The librarian looked back at the nun. “Where is she from, anyway? Is she looking for a map of her home?”
Sister Band shook her head. “No, she's lived at the orphanage ever since the week she was born.”
The librarian's face turned somewhat skeptical. “Really? But she has such an accent...?”
Sister Band raised her hands as if to shrug. “I know, but we don't know where she gets it from. She's always been different from the other children.”
But Amber didn't hear a word of their conversation. Her attention was focused on the map, staring at it in disbelief. 'It can't be... It just can't be...'
But it was. The map looked identical to the one Darren had seen his whole first life, except backwards. Mirrored, in fact. The West was in the East, and the East was in the West.
But at the same time, it was also... wrong. Many shapes and coastlines seemed slightly off. Was there an error in the printing?
Amber looked back up at the two grown-ups. “Um, which one are we again?”
The librarian smiled. “Here, it will be easier to see on this page.” She turned the page to a map focused on the mirror Europe. She then pointed at a country colored a bright red.
Germany.
Or rather, an early 20th century Germany that still contained most of Prussia. It might contain half of Austria too, but she wasn't sure. Amber looked over the rest of the countries to gain a better clue, and found... everything was off. Many of the countries were wrong, and so was the land. Shapes were different; coastlines didn't quite line up. Denmark connected to Sweden as a solid land mass. A small archipelago tried to connect Norway to Scotland. Italy's boot had turned into a claw. The more she looked, the more she found that was wrong.
Sister Band spoke up in a concerned tone. “Is something wrong, dear?”
Amber looked up at her, realizing the emotions she must be showing. “Uh, it's just...” but she fumbled to concoct a reasonable excuse. “There's... so many countries!”
The two women broke into modest laughter. They then began wistfully conversing with each other about the nature and behaviors of children.
But Amber had no way to explain what she was really feeling. To do so she'd have to explain how she was reincarnated into this world, and that was something she could not expect anyone to believe.
And yet, as she looked at the map, a thought sparked: this might be just the tool she needed. 'Maybe this might make it easier to explain where I came from...' Amber tried to imagine a conversation about it. It would be simple to explain; if she wanted to show what her world looked like, rather than making crude drawings, she could hold up this map to a mirror.
Amber looked over to the window. It was snowing now, and the darkened exterior made a ghostly mirror on the glass panes. She held the atlas up to the window and shifted it to catch the light. There in the reflection she could see the map she remembered. Yes, this seemed like a great way to demonstrate her world!
And then Amber noticed the obvious.
The map she was looking at was being held up by a small child.
If she tried to explain this to anyone, they would only see a child claiming to be from a world “like this one but not like this one.” Easy to explain, yes, but truthfully, it was just... unimaginative. It sounded like the kind of thing a child would make up.
Amber set the atlas back on the table and looked it over somberly. 'Shazbot. Who would ever believe that?' She looked at the various names printed on the nations. Those names sounded made-up to her; the names of her world would sound just as frivolous to them. Norles? Gaullia-Aquite? 'Wait... Didn't France used to be called Gaul?' As she took a second-glance, some of the names sounded somewhat familiar. Spain was Hiberia; not too different from the Iberian peninsula. The foreign alphabet had masked the names, but Amber began finding more similarities, and even a few names that might be the same. 'Why would there be similarities? Do we share some history?'
An island in the corner caught her attention: Iceland. But here it was known as... 'That's the word for 'ice.' So wait, it's still called Iceland? How can that even happen? No wait, why was it called Iceland in my world? Did it... Did the same thing happen here?'
Amber wasn't sure if this sounded more believable or less. If she told them it had the same name in her world, they would think she wasn't creative. Of course, even if it wasn't called Iceland here, she would still be scoffed at for being so unimaginative. About the only place more deserving to be called 'Iceland' would be Greenland.
'Greenland... Imagine trying to tell someone that we call that popsicle of a sub-continent “Green Land.” That's the dumbest thing ever. And yet... That's real history.' Amber remembered the history lessons about Erik the Red naming it “Green Land” to make it sound appealing. He even had to write a poem about it as part of a school project.
Never until now had Amber realized how far-fetched that story sounded. Like everyone else he had always just accepted it. But now... If she told anyone that story it would sound utterly childish and stupid. 'But it is real... That's the truth; no matter how stupid it sounds, that's the truth...'
Amber stared at the map for a while, though her mind was elsewhere. 'How much more of my history would just sound dumb and made-up to these people? Real life is full of things that just sound too stupid for fiction.' She let out a long sigh. '...What is Greenland called here anyway?'
She flipped the page back to the map of the whole world. It was using a terrible projection that made Greenland look enormous. She read the letters stamped inside its massive border, sounding them out in her head.
“What?!” Amber called out aloud.
The two women looked back at Amber, pulling themselves out of their conversation. “Is something wrong, dear?” Sister Band asked.
Amber looked at them and pointed at the map. “Can you tell me how this place got its name?”
The librarian stepped over and looked at the book. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “It's quite simple, really. It was found by a man named 'Halfdan the Red.' That's why they named it 'Redland.'”
Amber looked down at the map and let out another defeated sigh. She briefly imagined trying to explain this to someone. “I'm from another world, it looks just like this one but backwards. And in my world, Redland is called Greenland.” She winced at the thought. 'Yeah, no one is ever going to believe me.'
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Amber spent the rest of the trip to the library playing her role as a small child; asking questions about the different places and learning some basic things about the world.
But that night after she was sent off to her bed, she crawled under her blanket and simply felt bitter. She'd never be able to tell anyone about her world without being mocked; without being seen as a farce. That knowledge soured within her.
'All I have left are memories. And those memories... are sacred to me. I wish I could share those memories, but if no one could believe me...' Amber sighed softly. 'Neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you.'
She rolled over and waited for sleep to take her.
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Actually, I'll begin with the similarities.
Our two worlds look nearly identical to each other, but one is mirrored from the other. Many of the names even sound similar.
As I grew up, I studied the history of this world, and I found many similarities in our histories, (at least from what I can recall.) But I also noticed a pattern of weaving. Our histories become almost identical, then they pull apart and go different directions, then they come together again, then apart.
So it's weird; our histories are the same and also different. Would someone blow a fuse if I told them that in my world the Franks went on to dominate all of Gaul? Or that the Normans just sort-of mixed and faded away into Gaul and Britannica? But despite those differences, both of those nations still rose up to be among the most dominant makers of history for the past 500 years. The banners have changed, but the plot is the same.
Today, we have come into another point where our histories are almost identical; or rather, it is almost identical to my history from about a hundred years ago. Even the borders of the nations are bending to match the ones in my history books, (especially after Ruthenia swallowed up Livia, making them just as big as Russia once was.) The stage is set, almost perfectly so, to recreate the history of my world.
And a hundred years ago, we fought a terrible war, a World War. The cost of life was immense; some of the land remains poisoned to this day. No one truly won that war; there were only the nations that survived and those that did not.
And that war is where we are now, in this world. It even started the same way.
With that in mind one would expect that I would stay as far from this war as possible.
I won't lie, most of the time that's what I thought I would do.
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Amber walked into the Stonsberg public library. Miss Lowenstam was sitting at the reception desk as usual, talking with a middle-aged woman. They both looked over at Amber.
The middle-aged woman called out “Oh deary, are you lost?”
Miss Lowenstam replied, “Oh no, this is Amber. She comes in here all the time; mostly to read history books. She's going to be quite the scholar one day!”
The middle-aged woman was shocked. “Reading already? Why, you can't be a day over five!”
“Actually I just turned six last week.” 'And I'll be fifty next year.'
“What are you looking for today, Amber?” Miss Lowenstam asked.
“There was something I wanted to read about. They said it was called 'magic.'”
“Magic? What's got you interested in that all of a sudden?”
Amber stirred a little. “Well, they did a physical for everyone at the orphanage, and they said I was a... a mage? That's the word they said.”
Both women's faces showed surprise. “A mage?” Miss Lowenstam repeated, “Well, you're very lucky, Amber! Mages can use magic!”
Amber nodded with a little consternation. “Yes, that's what they said, but... What is 'magic?'” Finding a definition to this word had given Amber nothing but headaches; it was like they were describing laws of physics that didn't exist.
The librarian took a quick breath. “Well, mages wear a special device on their chest called an 'orb.' It lets them use a special energy in their body, called 'mana.' When they use that mana to perform a task, that's called 'magic!' You can use magic to do all kinds of things! You can make light, or power special objects. The really strong mages even use magic to fly!”
Amber's face grew more confused and frustrated. 'That doesn't make any sense. Are they harvesting electricity from people's bodies?' “But then why can only some people do that? Why would only some people have this 'mana?'”
The middle-aged woman spoke up. “Actually, you're not wrong; everyone can use at least some magic, but it's usually very, very little. A mage is someone with exceptional ability; someone with a really high power-level. ...Did they say what your power level was?”
Amber nodded, “Yes, they said it was a hundred-and-seven over eighty-five.”
The middle-aged woman's face soured. “It's not polite to lie, deary.” she declared.
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I'm sorry, my thoughts keep jumping around. Please understand that I am writing this in my spare time while actively serving on the front. Sometimes I pick up this journal and my thoughts are somewhere else.
One of the biggest differences between our worlds is the presence of magic.
In my world, magic was nothing more than a fairy tale, a fable.
But in this world, magic is very real, a power that is granted to some people. A week after I turned six it was discovered that I was so gifted, and tremendously so. And in this country, like most, people with magical talent get forcibly conscripted into the military in times of war. Even the women. It is too significant of an asset to do otherwise.
Growing up as an orphan, I knew there was no way I could avoid military service. Now I can hear you saying, “But not for a child, no one would conscript a child!” I know, and I thought about that. But had I done nothing now, I would be conscripted in my twenties, in the war that was to come.
But we'll get to that. For the moment, I'll just say that I knew what my life would be if I did nothing, and that's something I wanted to avoid.
When I finally decided to enlist in the Army, I didn't really expect anything to happen when I was eight; my hope was to just come back every year so that they see a real enthusiasm and eagerness from me, so perhaps later I could be placed in an auxiliary position.
No, that's not true. I did hope to actually enlist when I was just eight. I desperately needed something to do, and I would rather serve in the military than spend another year in the orphanage pretending to care about the childish games my fellow inmates played.
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Amber was led to a small office-room within the office-building for the recruitment center. It was one of four identical rooms which contained little more than a desk and some filing cabinets, and of course one of the Empire's flags. There weren't even blinds over the window that looked back into the main office.
The recruiter (a young officer) sat behind his desk looking at the form Amber had filled out with a suspicious gaze. After a moment he set down the paper and looked at Amber directly. “So miss... Darkwood... Well, let me begin by asking: just why do you want to join the military?”
Amber tried to repress her smile. In her former life she had friends that served in every major branch of the US military. She remembered the ones who served in the Marines mentioning the perfect answer to give to this question. 'I'm not getting enlisted anyway; let's see what happens when I say that.'
She took a quick moment to remind herself of her life in the orphanage to help her state it with some honesty.
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In the field behind the orphanage, Amber leaned against a tree reading another history book she had borrowed from the city library, trying to focus on her reading despite the childish raucous some of the older boys were making.
Marvin and Tom dashed up to Amber and made a brief exchange of incomplete sentences that only made it more obvious they were planning something they considered to be mischievously brilliant. Amber made a point to not even avert her eyes toward them to help convey how utterly uninterested she was.
Amber's attempt failed.
“Hey Amber,” Marvin called out, “Do you want to take the stupid test?”
Tom snickered.
Amber was direct. “No.”
“Oh come on!” Marvin protested.
“It's going to find out if you're stupid or not!” Tom declared. “Don't you want to know if you're stupid?”
Amber's response was as flat as possible. “I don't care.”
“Hey come on!” Marvin reached over and grabbed Amber's book and pushed it to the ground. “Just take the test already!”
Amber looked up with a scowl that the children clearly were not receptive to. “Fine,” she huffed out.
“What's two plus two?” Marvin asked.
“Four.” Amber replied.
“What color is an orange?”
“Orange.”
Marvin's face failed to hide any special emphasis on his next question. “What was the first question I asked you?”
Tom snickered again.
Amber stated dryly “Hi I'm Marvin, what's your name?”
Marvin's face broke. “Huh? Uhh... NO!”
Tom blurted out “It was 'do you want to take the stupid test!' Ha ha, Amber's stupid!” He quickly turned back to face the other boys. “Amber failed the stupid test! Hey everyone, Amber's stupid!”
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The young officer looked at the small child sitting across from his desk. “So, miss... Darkwood... Well, let me begin by asking: just why do you want to join the military?”
The small girl drew a short breath and slightly tilted her head to the side. With a tiny smile she declared: “I just really want to kill people.”
The officer peered back out the office window yet again. 'No really, who is watching me right now? This has to be a test.'
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At any rate, they decided to actually take me seriously the first time I showed up at the recruitment office. They gave me some written tests that I excelled at, and for reasons I didn't find out until much later, I found myself getting fast-tracked into their officer training program. At the time I didn't understand why they took me so seriously; but I'll explain that mystery later.
Now as I said, I needed purpose. Let me explain a bit about that.
I lost everything; I lost a whole world.
When I say I lost everything, I don't just mean my physical possessions; my closet full of strategy games and Warhammer miniatures.
I'm not just talking about my family and friends, or even having someone around who recognizes the movies I love to quote.
I'm not just talking about my dear wife; though I must add, losing her... no, it would take a whole page to explain why she was so special.
In addition to all of this, I lost something far deeper. I lost my faith in God; I lost my very soul.
I had always been a devout and faithful follower of my religion. But when I died, I didn't get to meet the God I worshiped. Instead I found myself reincarnated, contrary to the doctrine of my church.
I could go on, explaining the various other conflicts I've found with my life here and my religion. Many of them are things I could reason away; even the reincarnation is something I think I could accept, if I really tried.
But I was a man. And now I am a girl. “Gender is eternal,” I was taught. It is part of who we were before we were born, and continues with us into the next life. And here I am, in my next life, but my gender didn't continue with me.
I could write volumes about this. I feel so... betrayed. I feel hurt. I feel angry.
I lost everything. I lost my very being.
What is a man to do when he has lost everything?
I needed... purpose.
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Captain Mangold marched across the base with twelve men, five women, and one small girl marching in formation behind him. All nineteen soldiers wore the Empire's uniform, olive-drab with red trim, and each had a red jewel fastened to their chests, but only the captain had any rank or insignia on his uniform.
He led them across the courtyard to where nearly two dozen men stood at attention. The sergeant standing at their front turned and faced the captain. The two saluted.
“Sergeant Baum,” Captain Mangold declared, “these mage-recruits have completed their magic training.” He presented him with a thin binder. “I am now turning them over to you for their basic training.”
The sergeant took the binder and nodded. “Thank you, sir!” He stepped over to face the magic-users. Amber could see a round metallic device strapped to his chest. The sergeant twisted it slightly, and as he spoke his voice boomed loudly. “Alright recruits, you're part of my unit now! Line up next to the others!”
The mages promptly lined up in formation next to the other recruits and Captain Mangold walked away. The sergeant barked out orders at the recruits until they all stood in a proper single formation.
The sergeant opened up the binder and began flipping its pages while pacing in front of the new additions to his unit. He stopped when he came in front of Amber.
Amber kept her head forward but looked over the man. She had been expecting a muscular build for the man filling this role, like the strong-armed and thick-necked drill sergeants she had seen in all the movies. But this man was thin, almost unusually so. He reminded Amber of historical footage of lumberjacks before the invention of a chainsaw – he had the physique of someone who burns 7000 calories a day. Still, Amber knew the man had authority, and as she wasn't even four feet tall herself, the man still seemed physically imposing to her.
The sergeant twisted the contraption on his chest in the other direction. “What's your name, recruit?” he demanded, his voice now a normal volume.
“Amber Darkwood, sir!” she replied.
The sergeant flipped to the corresponding page in the binder. His head jerked back slightly and he blurted out in shock, “O-A?”
One of the nearby recruits repeated his surprise. “OA? That little shrimp is going to be an officer?!”
The sergeant snapped at him. “I didn't give you permission to speak, Bronner!”
The recruit snapped his head forward again.
Sergeant Baum looked down at the paper again. “Is this supposed to be some kind of test, Darkwood?”
With a steady voice Amber replied, “No, sir!”
“It says here you are eight years old.”
“That is correct, sir!”
The sergeant closed the binder and shoved it under his arm. “Recruit Darkwood, just why the hell are you in the Army?”
Amber's face cracked a devilish smile. “So I can win the war!”
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I promised to explain to you why I joined the military.
Even if I had lost my faith in God, forty years of being His disciple still leaves its mark. I wanted something to believe in, some reason for what has happened to me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I had a twisted hope that there was a purpose to this.
Why was I reborn with all my memories intact? Why do I still recall my world's history? Why do I recall the 30 years I spent playing strategy games and studying tactics and warfare just for fun? And why was I born into the body of the world's most powerful magic-user, the world's most powerful mage?
I told you that in my world we fought a terrible war and millions of people died for no true cause. But the tragedy didn't end there.
After the war there was a global pandemic and widespread famine. And in the wake of the war, the country whose boots were first on the ground was blamed. The rest of the world demanded reparation, far more than they could handle. Their economy crumbled so severely that people literally burned money as fuel to cook their food. But the tragedy didn't end there.
In their desperate times, the people of Germany looked for someone to save them. A man came into power, and while this leader did save them economically, he also began a new campaign of conquest, and started the Second World War, a war that lasted even longer, threatened more nations, and employed weapons even more heinous than the first. But the tragedy didn't end there.
As the war came near its end, the Allied forces found the concentration camps. That leader I mentioned had been secretly committing a genocide, executing millions of innocent people in gas chambers disguised as showers. People he deemed inferior because of their race, as well as any who opposed his rule. But the tragedy still didn't end there.
The Soviet forces had fought all the way to the center of Europe to reach the German capital, but after the war they didn't restore those countries like they had promised. Instead they turned them into puppet states for their corrupted Union, oppressing nearly half the continent. For fifty years a wall ran through the middle of Berlin, separating the free from the oppressed.
That is what happened in my world.
This is what is about to happen in this world, once we lose the war.
Except that this world has magic. And furthermore, this world has me.
This... This is my purpose.
I will avert 70 years of misery and torn worlds.
All I have to do is win one war to do it.
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