Echoes of Ashener

by David Partelow

  Esmie chuckled at Serra’s musings. “I think that’s why I liked him when I met him. Even at his age, that boy must have always grabbed life in his hands. He looked and felt so alive and vibrant to me, almost uncontainable. But oh, I digress again.” Esmie patted the young, sleeping warrior on the head a final time. “He’ll be all right, just needs some rest. Let’s see if we can help out over there.”

  “Okay.” Serra followed Esmie over to another table where a woman was wrapping a young boy’s injured leg. Serra knew this woman, for she too was from Bannar. And for as long as Serra had known her she had always been one of the towns best known healers. And what she lacked in Axiter ability she made up for in knowledge and insight. She looked much as she did when they were not refugees, except somehow her auburn eyes were colder, more untrusting. Quiet and pale, her slender features set to work with emotionless calculation. What had Brenn referred to her as ever as always? Oh yeah, something like “cold, aloof and somehow appealing to the bitter end.” Of course, everyone knows Brenn has always had the hots for Ashelia.

  “Um, hey Ashelia. How goes it,” asked Esmie in her usual cheerfulness.

  “Anything we can do to help?” Serra added.

  Ashelia Midoreah looked up at them. Slowly, carefully, her face allowed a short, tight smile to show. “Esmie, Serra,” she said emotionlessly. Ashelia then bent her head back down to her work. “I think I am covered here, thanks. I was just finishing up actually, and I think everyone has been accounted for.”

  Esmie looked over her shoulder at the rest of the room. “Yup, that was what I was guessing too.”

  Serra nodded at the assessment. “Everyone’s resting as comfortable as possible, at least for the moment. We were pretty lucky on this one.”

  Ashelia shook her head absently. “I haven’t felt lucky in a long time Serra, to tell you the truth. But yes, more survived than did not today and that will have to stand for something,” she said as she wiped some sweat from her head with her sleeve. Ashelia looked to Serra like she hadn’t slept in days. She rarely did when the infirmary had children in it. Unfortunately, that was most of the time lately. “Thanks to you both for helping out today, we’ve been really shorthanded. Esmie, your skills are always invaluable. I wish Axiter could spare more like you regularly.”

  Esmie nodded. “Believe me, I wish I could stay right here all the time when I am needed. This is where I’d rather be. But alas, duty ever calls. We’ve our own errands to run and battles to fight, but such is life, eh?”

  “I suppose that it is, unfortunately,” said Ashelia distantly. Serra wondered if there was any way to crack this woman and get some happiness out of her. Had circumstances been different, she might have even attempted such a feat.

  For a few long moments, there was an uncomfortable silence. Serra chewed on her lip for a second while Ashelia wordlessly cleaned up her work area. She was a hard person to read, for even those gifted as many of the Ro’Nihn of Axiter were. Norryn could have handled the challenge. He would have had Ashelia figured out in no time at all and had her smiling faster than you could say. . . Serra sighed. I need to stop thinking like this.

  It was Esmie who finally added voice to the silence. “So um, Ashelia, how is Brenn these days?”

  Serra thought that for at least an instant, she felt a spark of heat flare from the Bannar healer. Ashelia may have covered it well, but Serra knew that Esmie had picked up on it too. When Ashelia spoke again her voice had taken on an edge of contempt. “How would I know? Last I heard he was still an officer in the ranks of Vallance Force United. Why would you even ask such a question? It’s not like he is my chosen,” she said shortly.

  Esmie had indeed picked up on the change in Ashelia and pressed on bolder still. “Well it sure looks to me like he has chosen you, I would say. You know how he likes to go on and on and all that razzmatazz. Boys will be boys, I suppose. When are you going to finally spill all the beans to us?”

  Serra watched as Ashelia sniffed contemptuously. She finally could not contain herself anymore and had to get in on the fun. “She’s right, you know. Never know how boys are going to behave, especially Brenn. He certainly does have his eye on you, and of that we can be certain. He’s very confident on winning your heart over one day. Very confident indeed, that Brenn.”

  Ashelia was clearly fuming on the inside now. This was the most emotion Serra had ever seen from the woman. “Hmph. Get him on this table and we’ll see how confident he is.”

  Serra and Esmie exchanged humored glances as Esmie fought back laughter. “My dear, Ashelia, it sounds as though maybe you are coming around, you know? But don’t worry, I will not tell a soul.” Esmie made a motion like zipping her mouth shut as she put her other hand over her heart. “Your secret is safe with me of course, isn’t that right, Serra?”

  Serra put her own hand on her heart. “Absolutely. Esmie wouldn’t dare to tell a soul.”

  Ashelia looked at them with thinning patience. “Just so you know, I find you both very not funny.” Ashelia then grabbed some towels and headed in the other direction, oblivious to the two giggling women whom she left in her wake.

  Esmie shrugged her shoulders merrily. “Ah, it’s just as Brenn says, she’ll come around eventually. And woe to him when she does!” Serra laughed with Esmie as they headed in Ashelia’s trail to catch up.

  As Ashelia headed off on some errand, Serra and Esmie refreshed themselves in the water basins. Placing their hands underneath the earthen faucets, fresh warm water cleaned their lower arms and hands. The water felt good to Serra, reminding her of the bath she enjoyed recently. Feeling rather spoiled, she greatly wanted to repeat the process and soak again that evening.

  Drying her hands off, Esmie turned her attention to Serra. “So, what about you, young one, are there any new men in your life vying for your affections?”

  With her head pointed away from Esmie, it was easy for Serra to roll her eyes at the question. Regaining herself, she turned and faced the Axiter healer. “The world is full of smitten men, Esmie. I am grateful that my lack of free time is very effective in halting their advances.

  Esmie tilted her head curiously. “So, no one has caught your eye as of yet?”

  “You can say that, yes.”

  “And, um, no change with you and Vonack then? Now I know he wants to be with you. He’s not as transparent about it as Brenn is with Ashelia, but you can tell. Any thoughts?”

  Serra’s eyes narrowed. “I think you know way too much, Esmie.”

  “Pish posh, young one! You can never know too much! Knowledge adds quite a zest to my life. But not to worry, my dear, you will learn one of these days."

  “Yes, you keep saying.”

  “That I do, my dear. Shall we get something to eat then? We can talk about it over lunch."

  Serra nodded and headed toward the exit. “Food sounds like a good idea, though it is with reluctance that I divulge too much personal information to you.”

  “Right.” Once again, Esmie stretched that word out while taking on her usual, knowing tone.

  The two friends walked away from the infirmary and found themselves caught in the thick of commotion. Soldiers and citizens alike were heading for the gates. Serra and Esmie looked at each other. Without a word, they too headed in the direction of the crowd. They passed down the streets, dodging the masses and it was not long before they were at the gates. It was there that they found Sindara Preece and the reason for the entire ruckus.

  Sindara was already administering orders to her people. “Clear the street and give them some room, people! Get some healers down here now and clear a wing at the keep!”

  Serra’s eyes went from Sindara to what was in front of her. As the crowd began to give room, she could see the commotion more clearly. “Oh no,” was all that she could muster before silence consumed her.

  What she saw with her eyes was an entourage, or what was left of it anyway. There were soldiers carrying soldiers. All of them looked beyond exhaustion. Many
makeshift stretchers had been devised, and each one had at least two wounded on them. Those that did not pull stretchers helped the wounded along. These men had traveled across many miles on foot. She wondered how many had been lost along the way. They were of Vallance, and the colors on their tabards told her that this was the remainder of the group of defenders from Rucker.

  Esmie darted forward with Serra not far behind. She and Serra helped the weary and the injured into the gates and onto the street. The intent was to get them comfortable until real stretchers arrived. These men required immediate medical care as they were exhausted, dehydrated, malnourished, and wounded. It was probably a miracle they had even made it this far. Serra was immediately relieved that Esmie was present. With her experience, the Ro’Nihn healer took charge quickly. She had someone fetch Ashelia and the rest of the infirmary healers while grabbing “volunteer” citizens standing around to help.

  Esmie put the situation in order, pointing and advising. “Now you hold that bandage there. That wound has been aggravated, and we must stop the bleeding. And you put this on that gunshot wound. We need to deal with the infection. Hey, Serra, help me out here.” A staggering soldier had just fallen into Esmie’s arms. Serra rushed over and they were able to get him to the ground. “Easy there. We have you now. We’re going to take care of you, okay?”

  The older, veteran soldier looked as though his body welcomed death but his mind refused it. He clenched his teeth and grunted as Serra and Esmie helped him to the ground. His tattered hair was matted with blood and dirt and his wounds were many. Still he spoke clearly as he was put down. “Two more coming. Help them, please.”

  Esmie put a soft hand on his head. “Don’t you worry. We'll take care of it.” She looked out of the gates as she spoke. “You just rest easy and let us see to you.” Esmie cut off from her train of thought as movement caught her eye. “By all the stars! Ballor!” In an instant Esmie was on her feet and out the gate. Serra followed in hot pursuit.

  Serra quickly saw what Esmie had seen. Staggering toward Rahn was a Ro’Nihn carrying an unconscious man on his shoulders. Ballor was a big, bulky native of Axiter. The ponytail of his dark hair draped over his chest, partially crushed under the weight on his shoulders. Only half of the chest plate he wore remained. The missing half was replaced with a horrid gash still puttering out gushes of blood. His left thigh had been hastily bandaged too and blood stains decorated most of the leg below it. Esmie had instantly recognized him as Ballor of the Grandstaff. While Serra did not know him, she was aware of who the unconscious man was.

  Ballor of the Grandstaff clans carried Adaven Milestor.

  Esmie reached Ballor first. The healer in her knew and felt instantly that he was beyond bad shape. She put both hands on him in hopes of supporting him, reaching him. “Ballor! You’re alive! You’re here! Let me help you please. Ballor, look at me!”

  There was nothing offered from Ballor as he stared on at the gates of Rahn. Every now and again he clenched his teeth but said nothing. Serra came up on the other side of him and put a hand on Adaven’s head. He looked much older in his condition, beaten and bloody as his gray hair obscured his features. Nevertheless, his face was warm and from what Serra could see, he still lived. She and Esmie tried to get the older man off Ballor shoulders, but he could not be budged. Ballor merely gripped tighter and walked on.

  Esmie continued trying to reach her friend and comrade. “Ballor, talk to me please. Say something. What happened? Are you okay? Please!” Esmie’s pleas apparently fell on deaf ears as Ballor pressed forward. They were almost to the gates now. A crowd had reformed just outside to watch. Esmie and Serra walked with Ballor, supporting the silent, stubborn warrior to the best of their ability. Sometimes he stumbled, but somehow, he never fell and would not allow it. The crowd parted to let Ballor into the streets of Rahn.

  Within five or six steps within the walls, Ballor of the Grandstaff stopped. With Serra, Sindara, and Esmie before him, he bent forward and allowed Adaven Milestor to be taken. Ballor lasted another three seconds before he collapsed in an exhausted heap upon the ground. Esmie immediately knelt to tend to him, calling for supplies and a stretcher. Ashelia quickly complied.

  “Hang with me, Ballor. I’ve lost enough friends. You stay with me, you hear?” Esmie let her hands go to work instinctively as her head turned toward some of Adaven’s soldiers. “What happened? Can someone please tell me that?”

  One of the soldiers who could still walk replied as he took offered water. His voice was gravely and pained as he spoke. “They finally caught up with us. We only got so far before they found us and gave chase. We took to the woods, there were too many of them. We encountered search party after search party. Eventually, we got split up. They caught Adaven and nearly beat the life out of him.” He pointed to the fallen Ballor. “He brought him back, and then led us out of the woods and away from those Thorne animals. I don’t know how he did it, but he did.” The young soldier took another drink to soothe his cracked lips and unquenchable thirst. “After that we took just enough time to gather and tend our wounded before heading here. It must have been four days we walked with little rest.” The young soldier shuddered at the thought and said no more.

  At last, the rest of the help arrived from the infirmary with stretchers and supplies. With care, they began to gather the wounded. Esmie stuck with Ballor as Serra and Ashelia looked after Adaven. Esmie, with all her knowledge and ability, was clearly shaken. “Come on, ladies. We have some work to do. I’ll be damned if any one of these men are dying on my watch.”

  Esmie, Serra and Ashelia made their way toward another round in a never-ending struggle for life.

  -6-

  With cool precision, General Nathaniel Reginald Cresul once again entered the meeting room in Galvin. Carrying a confident smile, Cresul swiftly unfastened his cloak as every facet of his being catered to precise military protocol and a penchant for majestic flair. As he took in each soldier present, Cresul sat himself comfortably at the head of the table. The general looked extremely at ease in his elaborate chair, ready to carry out the next phase of his ingenious campaign to conquer Vallance.

  Thus situated, Cresul offered a carefree, yet feral grin. “Gentlemen, our time has come at last. All the pieces are in place. My plan is about to come to a full and glorious fruition. Soon we will carry our colors deep within Vallance again and vanquish this backwater country once and for all.” He paused for a moment to let his voice and words sink in. His face was, for the moment, earnest, his picturesque features immaculately groomed. “We will begin mobilization immediately. I want all troops at the rendezvous point within 48 hours. Dawdling will of course be met with the standardized response of death. From there we will wait for the signal. By my calculations, we will have Vallance crushed completely within two weeks.”

  “At last,” breathed Major Richard Nelson. “This wait has been maddening, general.” At the prospect of true battle, his scarred, bearded face finally burst to life.

  “For once I am in full agreement with our barbarian major, Cresul,” said Colonel Frederick Hickson. Proud, defiant, and fanatical to the last, Hickson was beyond the point of hiding his feelings. “Our men are hungry. For five years, you have kept the bulk of our military forces in wait and, in my opinion, wasted the true potential of our military prowess. I say we strike now and end this little chess game once and for all. We have the power to conclude this so let us finish what we started five long years ago.”

  Cresul leaned back in his seat. Casually, he looked at the restless colonel with privileged indifference. “And we shall finish this war, Colonel Hickson. And while I have always tried to appreciate your zeal, there is a reason that it is I who run this army and not you.” Cresul’s features darkened as he continued. “Trust me, this is no game and I find it insulting that you still have the audacity to doubt my vision. Your weakness is you cannot see past the present to address the bigger picture.”

  Colonel Hickson’s features reddened un
der the scrutiny and focus placed upon him. “All I am saying, general, is that there is no reason to wait. We have the means to crush our enemies from one corner of Vallance to the next. And we could have done it five years ago at the fall of Bannar.”

  Cresul’s hands clenched as he leaned forward. Instantly, he was furious at the doubt presented before him. “Are you truly that blind? Do you honestly think our enemy would have gone gentle into that goodnight? It was my tactics and years of careful planning that brought us to the very cusp of victory. We stand on the cusp of absolute conquest and you are in idiot to think that brute strength alone would have defeated Vallance. Your pompous overconfidence is amusing. I have brought us to the end with minimal casualties and loss of resources. Our armies are fresh. Theirs are not. The last five years have been utter perfection, and I will be damned if I accept any criticism to my battle plan, especially from the likes of you!”

  Colonel Hickson was practically stammering now between his on anger and embarrassment. “I was simply stating-”

  “No, that is quite enough out of you and I suggest you’re your sake you silence yourself at once,” spat the general. Cresul then swallowed hard, taking a breath and calming himself as quickly as he had allowed the rage in. “We now have every means to decimate the last of their resistance. Had you not been so short sighted then perhaps you could appreciate the damage that we have caused to our enemies and the severity it will add when we crush their Vallance Force United completely and utterly.”

  Opposite the table of Colonel Hickson, Colonel Mathew Miller cleared his throat. “Therein is our problem, sir,” he said as he adjusted in his seat, wiping under his nose with the back of his finger. “So far our efforts to pinpoint the location of the V.F.U. and trap them have been fruitless. Their elusiveness has always been their greatest weapon.”