Echoes of Ashener

by David Partelow

  Serra sighed. “It feels like ten years at least,” she mused as she crossed her arms, resting them on the table in front of her. Slowly, her chin lowered upon them. A losing streak. That is being kind. I can’t remember winning anything since this war started. I’ve never felt so tired in all of my life, and this is only the beginning. Cresul could start up again at any moment and who’s to stop him? Yes, that is the indeed the real question. First, he struck at our heart and stepped back and let us splinter on our own accord. Then he began to slowly demoralize us piece by piece. Now he is ready to claim his greatest victory. Serra moved her eyes to the head of the table. “So how do we stop him, Sindara? I mean, is there a way?”

  Sindara steadily got to her feet, placing her hands upon the table before her. Her long braid of golden hair trailed down her shoulder and the swell of her breasts. She looked at young Serra squarely in the eyes with bright pupils that held only the truth in all its earnestness. “Quite frankly, I haven’t got the slightest idea, much less a single notion that would grant me the hope I would need to get any kind of real sleep tonight. Our chances now are bleak at best.”

  “So, what do we do?” asked Serra.

  As Sindara replied, the truth of her words stung Serra and the others. “We do the only thing we have left to us, Serra. We fight on and we pray. And in the end, we hope that I am very, very wrong.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Hope

  Despite high spirits, all was respectively calm at Hawkins Base. The troops were rested, refreshed and preparing to join Cresul’s main battle group at the selected rendezvous point. The base had recently acquired fresh supplies, including food, munitions and spare parts. It was time for the troops to test their hours of training and take the fight to Vallance.

  The night was refreshingly cool, allowing a gentle breeze to ease the cares of a long, warm day filled with preparation. Scant stars whispered in the darkness, though the moon was lazy in its attempt at seclusion. The only sounds were occasional laughter from some yarn being spun from the barracks. The guards carried out their rounds in the same distracted excitement that permeated the rest of the base. All was quiet. All was well.

  And all was exactly how Trennon Raymses wished it to be.

  Assessing the situation with the enhancements of his refitted eye, Trennon Raymses knew the time had come to strike. The icy blue stare of his robotic eye increased its resolution as Trennon switched it to night vision. With a few more mental calculations, he activated the communicator in his wrist. Holding it to his mouth he continued the operation.

  “Scoop, report.”

  Kip Saunders, Trennon’s scout and sniper more commonly known as Scoop, came back almost immediately. “All clear from the bird’s eye,” he replied

  Trennon changed his focus. “Nills, Are the charges set?”

  Donovan Nills, the demolitions expert, double-clicked his communicator to indicate no.

  “Stand by.” Trennon adjusted his eye enhancement again, switching to thermal imaging. It took a moment, but he pinpointed Nills within the base walls. “I have you now, Donavan. Go ahead.”

  Trennon watched as Donovan Nills pointed to his eyes and then the sentry tower nearest to him, before showing with his fingers there were two guards, apparently spooked. Suffice to say they were impeding the progress of the demolition expert's work, and that was all Trennon needed to know.

  “Sit tight, Nills,” ordered Trennon as he switched back over to Kip. “Scoop, two guards, east sentry tower. Black out.”

  “That’s affirmative. Targeting now.”

  It took only seconds for Scoop to have the distance, wind speed and his targets locked. Two arrows from a modified quadbow seared through the air. Both hit the necks of their targets, erasing any chances to shout warning. The two guardsmen fell to the floor of the watchtower, clutching at their necks. Death found them quickly with nothing more than a few stifled gurgles to signal their demise.

  “All clear,” replied Scoop through the communicator.

  “Nills, you are free to proceed.” Trennon watched as Donovan Nills continued setting his charges before turning off his thermal imaging. In the back of his mind, he still hoped Nills had restrained himself from explosive, extravagant overkill, which had become his evolving style over time.

  Trennon waited until he received a single click from his communicator, indicating that Nills and the three Ro’Nihn accompanying him had finished setting the explosives. It was just about time to get their plan truly rolling. Trennon thumbed the com unit again. “All right, group, prepare for action. We move on the signal. Nills, it’s your show.”

  Trennon resigned himself to wait. It was now in the hands of his demolition expert. Waiting was the annoying part of the job Trennon hated most. To pass the time, he made mental notes of possible contingencies. Checking his rifle, he was more than ready to move in at any second and cover the 50 feet that separated him and the compound.

  In the end, however, Trennon did not have to wait long.

  “Halt!” screamed a guard from within.

  “Suck on this first, jerk-wad!” That was Donovan.

  Any other retorts were then drowned out by the raging strength of powerful force and roaring flame. An explosion rocked one of the base walls closest to Trennon, rattling its foundation as chunks of superheated steel, debris and human remains coughed into the air. It was the signal all right, one very characteristic of Nills. Trennon already had the appropriate response armed to his lips.

  “There's a surprise,” he said sarcastically, looking at the group of soldiers covering his six. “Move in!”

  The explosion had opened the wall considerably. Trennon could now see Nills and two of the Ro’Nihn assisting him. Behind them troops had begun to exit the barracks, heading in the direction of the explosion. “Cover them,” ordered Trennon. The 15 soldiers accompanying him set up around the makeshift hole, laying down a suppressing fire at the approaching Thorne troops. Arrows and laser fire sailed into the base, sending the surprised soldiers diving for cover. Nills reloaded his rifle as he joined Trennon on the outside wall.

  “So that was subtle,” said Trennon. It was more of a statement than observation.

  “I call it glorious improvisation,” replied Nills with a shrug as two Ro’Nihn joined them.

  Trennon regarded the two Ro’Nihn. “Where’s Vellen?”

  “She’ll be around. She was forced to find an alternate exit,” said Nall of the Redgrove as he motioned to the demolition expert.

  “Oh sure, blame old ‘Overkill Nills’. Everyone else does,” muttered Donovan.

  Trennon pointed to Nills impatiently. “Just have those charges ready. We’re pulling out,” said Trennon before he activated his communicator again. “Scoop, cover us. Troops, fall back, I repeat, fall back.” Behind Trennon one of his own fell to a well-placed laser blast. “Pull back now!” Trennon picked up the fallen soldier, slinging him on his shoulder as he returned fire. Dropping his rifle, he raised his left arm. The motion triggered a stream of pure, hungry flame from his hand. The fire covered their exit route thoroughly. Trennon held back until all his troops were to safety before following. “Scoop, do you have a visual on Vellen?”

  “That’s an affirmative. She is clear and on her way to your location as we speak.”

  “Good.” Trennon reached Donovan, making firm eye contact. “Nills, hit it.”

  Donovan Nills casually held up the detonator. His face glowed with a devious smile. “And a boom,” he said as he pressed the button.

  In seconds, Hawkins base spat forth a frenzy of organized chaos. The initial explosion from the demolition expert began at the base’s cache of supplies. Soon more explosions burst out from its wake in a merciless ripple effect. Many of the inhabitants who had been drawn to the explosion of the wall were spared death, but now they fled in droves to escape the fiery hell that once was their base.

  Donovan Nills released the detonator easily as he watched his work in motion. “Hot damn, I�
��m good at my job.”

  “Shut it,” said Trennon assessing his unit of ragtag troops. The mission was accomplished and from what he can tell his group had sustained only minor injuries and one confirmed death. Trennon hit his com yet again. “Scoop, get to your cycle and meet us at the fallback point. We’re right behind you.”

  “As ordered.”

  Trennon signaled to the men and women under his command. “Let’s move it out. Alpha squad, cover our six.”

  Trennon’s group departed from the scene as swiftly as they had entered it. Reaching their cycles, they began removing the camouflage tarps as they brought their rides to life. Within moments the squad was readied for travel. As Nills checked his gear, a brisk slap met the back of his head.

  “Hey!” whined Donovan.

  While Vellen of the Hailborne’s face was covered with smoke and soot, the message her eyes conveyed was quite clear. It said I owe you one.

  “Yeah yeah,” said Nills glumly.

  Trennon watched as his group exited the scene. Before him were the flaming remains of Fort Hawkins. Slung on the back of his cycle was the body of his fallen soldier. It was Daniels, one of his new grunts. He was young, idealistic and carefree, many of the things Trennon too used to be before the war and battle changed all of that. Trennon placed his hand on the back of Mark Daniels, patting his fallen comrade. Another flame blown out too soon. Rest in peace, my young friend.

  Trennon Raymses gunned his cycle to join his group.

  -5-

  Serra Landring busied herself attending to another of the multitude of wounded. There was always injured it seemed anymore, be it refugee, soldier, or otherwise. In five years, Serra had learned to set bones, dress wounds, comfort patients, and other tricks that made her handy in the infirmary. She was in no way, shape, or form a great healer by any means, but even her rudimentary understanding of the subject made her invaluable in war time.

  Serra was currently working on her third patient. The present batch had been an ambushed convoy coming from the northwest near what used to be Bannar. They had managed to escape with few fatalities, but the wounded were many. Most were young soldiers, many of them looked Serra’s age; youthful grunts trained to die at an age where they were supposed to be learning to live. Serra focused on the resolve she found while tending the wounded and let it be a distraction from the horrors that wished to overwhelm her.

  Serra finished bandaging her patient’s leg. If they could keep the infection down, her patient would keep the full use of it. It was not an issue of proper medicine. It had become an issue of having enough medicine with the people capable of properly administering it. Serra had discovered very quickly that in war you never had adequate supplies. As always, everyone made do with what they had on hand for there was no other choice.

  Serra looked over two beds down to the Ro’Nihn healer that had begun Serra’s training. Shiny dark hair dusted with shades of red trailed past her neck to her shoulders. Serra knew not what she looked like truly under her mask, but the Ro’Nihn’s easy-going smile and jubilant brown eyes made her beautiful in Serra’s summation. At her sides were two weapons that she had called sais, instruments Serra knew she hated using. Serra had met her almost five years ago in this very place and was grateful to have learned under the Ro'Nihn, for she was indeed fond of her. “How are things coming over there, Esmie?”

  Esmie of the Ryndragus lifted her head from her work long enough to smile at Serra. Currently, she was running her hands over a shoulder torn by laser fire. Serra knew that she was drawing out infection with skills she had acquired from extensive training in Axiter. “Um, you know how it goes, slow and steady. We have a fighter here at least. I think we are going to make it aren’t we, young one?” She ran her hand across the forehead of her patient. He looked as though he slept now with unmolested, pleasant dreams. Esmie had a way of giving those she worked on much peace.

  With her present work finished, Serra wiped her hands clean with a cloth towel. She went over to where Esmie busied herself to see if she could offer help. “So how has everything else been? I haven’t had a chance to catch up with you in a while,” she said.

  Esmie shrugged easily as she continued her work. “Oh, just the usual razzmatazz I’d say. Everything seems blah these days and there’s always something to do. What about you, young one? How’s life treating you on your end?”

  Serra sagged her shoulders slowly, looking around at the infirmary. “I guess about the same, Esmie. Like you said, there’s always something to do. It’s only redeeming quality is that it gives you little time to think."

  “Right.” Esmie always stretched that word out when she said it. Serra knew it was her way of stating she knew better. “No time to think indeed. I know you do a lot of it, young one.”

  Serra let out a sigh. “Am I that transparent?”

  Esmie wiped the sweat off of her patient’s head and face before looking again at Serra. All this work seemed like second nature for Esmie, like she could do most of it in her sleep. “Transparent? Heavens no, at least not by sight standards anyway. Let’s just say I am trained at this sort of thing, you know. Um, so do tell.” She looked around the room. “I think we are good, at least for a couple of minutes.”

  Serra could feel the weight on her shoulders. She didn’t know if she could talk about everything without breaking down completely. Serra couldn’t remember the last time she had even tried to talk about her cares. Esmie was her friend though, and she couldn’t lie. And so, she took a deep breath and tried. “Honestly, Esmie, that’s all I do anymore. At first all I could do was focus on the work, and it made it easy. But as I got to know my duties, and I didn’t have to think about them anymore, all I began to think about was our lives. Everything I know is gone or slipping away. I mean it’s hard, really hard to even imagine what life was like before the war. And I know that I must be strong for others, because my duty requires it. But I don’t feel strong. All I feel is tired, Esmie. I’m tired of this life, tired of this hate we have to face every single day and not ever be able to see if it’s going to get any better.” She paused then, biting her lip. Serra could feel the burning in her eyes. If she wasn’t careful, she would start crying. However, Serra knew that she had opened the floodgates now, and pressed on. “I miss my life, Esmie. I miss being a kid. I miss waking up in my home and feeling wonderful about everything. And always I miss. . . I miss. . .” Serra couldn’t find the words anymore.

  Esmie found them for her. “You miss him.”

  Serra lurched in her skin. There was no mistaking who Esmie meant. “Yeah, I miss him, every single day.”

  Esmie offered a warm, sympathetic smile. “I know you do, dear. Every time I see you, I feel visions of him flooding from you. I wasn’t there, but I heard about everything. You guys were more than close.”

  “You could say that, yes.” Serra remembered times past, days she spent with a young man who she would find out later meant more to her than she ever realized when he was alive. Seeing that face in her mind, that devilish grin, she couldn’t help but to smile now. “I guess you could say he was my soulmate. We did everything together. We fought together, played together, got into trouble together. What I wouldn’t give for those times again. There wasn’t anyone quite like him, Esmie.”

  “I have heard.” Esmie tilted her head, lost in a thought for only a moment. “I had the honor of meeting the Ashener family once. I was sent along with a few others with a courier to Bannar. What a place that was! The Asheners were very kind people. I got that from the get-go. And yes, I remember Norryn. I took one look at him and knew he was a little devil. He was even younger then, probably six or seven or so. As the courier finished his message to Alderich, that little one came to me and took my hand and looking up at me with those curious eyes he said. ‘You’re a great healer. I can feel it. It’s an honor to meet you.’ And with that he just hugged me and went back to his parents. From that point on he followed me around town, or should I say he led me. Every so
often, he would grab my hand and show me something he thought was special, or that I would like to see. He hugged me again when it was time for me to leave. I never forgot that day. He was quite the little cutie.”

  Serra found something from within her soul she had not heard in some time. From her own mouth, she heard soft laughter. To her it sounded almost alien, but it was welcome just the same. “Oh. he had a way about him that’s for sure. It was like he couldn’t help but be ornery. He always kept me on my toes.”