Presented by the Atomic Sleepwalker

Kellan Harvester was a young orphan who became a refugee during the Night of Knives. He joined Arkan Baes, Brother Xiao, and the other founding members of ASE and Agent Six. It is believed that he was a founding member as well, although he did use a different name. Presented here,  for the first time, is Kellan’s complete journal. Hopefully this will serve as an excellent supplement to the drier historical writings.

-Adrian Doyle, Archivist

From the Journal of Kellan Harvester

Earl’ Summer, Fifth Day, 1341

I’m no good at this kind of thing, but I figure this is important and somebody has to. I mean, in twenty years, if we make it through this, people are going to know. I’m the only one who cares enough, I think, but it might just be that I’m the only one who really knows how to read and write. The others can, I think, especially the fat priest and skinny guy with the guitar, but they didn’t have the sisters at the orphanage breaking switches on their backs to make them do their lessons.

Anyway, I was able to scrounge up some paper and ink, and I’m going to do my best to keep track of everything that’s happened over the past few days as best as I can remember it. It’s still hard to comprehend—I mean, it’s been two days since the attack, and I don’t think I’ve actually gotten it yet. Maybe writing will help me put everything in order.

Okay, yeah, I’m all over the place. I already said I’m not very good at this. But I’ll try, for posterity, and so I don’t go crazy. I feel like I might, sometimes. I wake up sweaty and breathing so hard I think I’m about to have a heart attack. It’s like my body knows it’s real but my mind doesn’t.

The Regesians attacked two days ago. At least, we all think it was the Regesians. They looked like Northmen, at any rate, all pale and blond, and they were flying the flag that they do up North, the one with the fist squeezing the snake? That one, it’s like their religion or something. The fat priest says that the Regesians are all zealots or something, that they’re ruled by this High Priestess or something, and they all think that their god wants them to kill a bunch of people and take their land. It doesn’t make much sense to me, but I’ve never been very good at understanding religion, even at the orphanage.

It was in the middle of the night when everything started, when everything caught fire. I remember hearing this bang, and when I woke up, I thought it was daylight because the dorm was so bright. But then some of the other guys were at the window, and I looked out and saw that everything was burning. Everything. There were all these people running into the street, trying to get to shelter, I guess, and that’s when I saw the riders.

I had never seen anything like them, big black beasts with these huge 20-foot wingspans. They looked like bats with dog heads, all slobbering jaws and eyes glinting from the flames. It took me a second to realize that there were riders, that there was a Regesian on the beast’s back throwing firebombs at the city.

I didn’t know what to do. I think I was in shock. But then some of the sisters came into the room and started telling us to run. I remember thinking that I couldn’t run, I didn’t have my shoes, but this one sister, Constance, grabbed my arm and pulled me, hard. She was saying something, but I couldn’t hear her, it was so loud.

She kept pulling, and I followed her and the rest of the boys down the stairs. We saw the girls on the way down, and the rest of the sisters. Nobody said anything. Some of the little children were crying, but even they were quiet, like they were scared enough to cry, but even more scared of making too much noise.

We made it to the cellar, and Sister Charity closed the door and barred it. It was totally dark—nobody had brought anything to light a candle with—and some of the children started to cry for real now, even some of the older ones. I tried to find Lorra—she’s a friend of mine, sixteen, like me, but I couldn’t. It was too cramped, and it was hard to hear over the crying and the explosions from the street.

We stayed there for hours. We didn’t have anything to eat or drink, and nowhere for anybody to take a piss. Some of the little kids wet themselves. Some of the bigger kids did too. By the time we got out of there, it stank.

After a while, Sister Charity unbolted the door and slipped out to check around. She wouldn’t let anybody else go with her, and she told us that if she wasn’t back in an hour, we were all to go to the Church. I wanted to know how we would know when an hour went by, seeing as how none of us had a watch, but she ignored me.

An hour went by. It wasn’t exact, but I found Albert and made him count the seconds. He’s a really bright kid, has a real head for numbers, and he’s almost as good as a watch. I think it made him feel better to count it all off like that. Like it was something to take his mind off of things. After an hour, Sister Charity hadn’t come back. Some of the little kids started to cry again. We waited a while, at least another hour. She still didn’t show.

Sister Constance got us together, then. She told us that she was going to split us all up into groups, and we were all going to make our way separately to the church. She said it would be an adventure, like that time we all went out the Glianine Orchards, but nobody believed her. She put me in a group with Sister Patience and some of the little kids. I told her I wanted to go with Lorra, but Sister Patience told me that the bigger kids had to be able to take care of the little ones. If we all went together, she said, some of the children might not have anybody to watch out for them. I told her if it was all the same to her, I’d rather Lorra and I take our chances and let the Five-Faced God take care of the kids. Patience slapped me good, right on the jaw, and told me not to blaspheme. Then we had to leave.

Sister Constance opened the door, and we all squinted at the light. It was daylight now, and none of us could see after being stuck in the cellar all night. Then Patience told me it was time to go, and she handed me one of the damp kids. I grabbed hold of her tight and headed out into the street.

Damn. We’re moving again. The skinny guy and the pretty girl are saying something about heading south with the other refugees. The fat priest, the soldier, and the sister are packing up. I’ll keep writing when I get a chance.