Echoes of Ashener

by David Partelow

  Slowly, Josaph began to skim over the report. My god, this thing is a monster whatever it is. Josaph took more interest in the contents. The recount of the aftermaths was similar each time and disturbing every time. This thing, this being, obviously had a penchant for Thorne's military and anything that had to do with it. What Vallance had unleashed on them, he couldn’t rightly say. Josaph thought that it had to be a man. Well, he hoped it was one at least.

  Captain Porter leaned his aging knuckles on his desk. “So, as you can see, we got ourselves one hell of a problem to contend with. This fort is closest to the bulk of the bloodshed, so the higher ups have left the task to us. And I am leaving the task to you.”

  Josaph looked up abruptly. “Sir?”

  Captain Porter snorted. “Oh, don’t be too surprised, Pierce. You are more than qualified for the job. Most of the soldiers here look up to you. And you’ve got potential, I'll give you that. It’s about time you weren’t wasting away here or on trivial border skirmishes. I want to see how far that potential goes, sergeant, and I don’t suspect you will disappoint me.”

  Yeah right. You just want me dead and washed up with the Flood. “I’m honored, sir. What do you have in mind?”

  Captain Porter grew silent again, searching Josaph’s eyes for any deceit before continuing. “Effective immediately, you will be given a squad of specialist to aid you in the pursuit of this Flood. I have handpicked the best men we had to offer here at the fort. Your orders are simple: find the Flood and return him to Fort Mire, breathing or not. This report also entails what leads we have gathered so far. I’m sure there are patterns in there, so figure them out and neutralize this threat. The presence of this Flood character is tarnishing the glory that Cresul has brought to our armies and our country. See that it is snuffed out.”

  Handpicked huh? Now I’m really screwed. This just gets better and better. Josaph rose from his chair and saluted, knowing in his heart that what he had to say and what he wanted to say dwelled on opposite ends of the spectrum. “Thank you for this honor, sir. I’ll make an example of this scum bag and anyone else foolish enough to cross us.”

  Captain Porter returned the salute. “See that you do, sergeant. And see that my faith in you has not been in vain. Good luck and dismissed.”

  Josaph left the office with controlled haste. He did not want to seem panicky while doing his best to put a great amount of distance between him and Porter. Josaph had much to think consider and little was his time to gather his affairs into order. Josaph would soon leave the walls of Fort Mire and onto the trail of the Flood. He had no idea who or what it was or why it did what it did. There was only one notion that filled Josaph’s head with great clarity.

  The Flood was out there and Josaph was certain that whatever it was, it was ready.

  -9-

  How did you explain firm resolve, the fortitude to see a promise through, when everyone thinks you’re crazy? Obviously, I haven’t found that answer yet if the look on their faces is any sign. Serra Landring stood her ground in the audience chamber, though she knew not how. In her mind, Sindara Preece had reasoned and argued with people much stronger and more suited than she. Making it this far is somehow inspiring. And I need all the inspiration I can get.

  Sindara now sat calmly from her chair at the head of the table. By contrast, this room was far larger than the dining room and seemed more worn and utilized somehow. Serra surmised that many a verbal battle had been waged within these four walls. She looked now into the stern eyes of Rahn’s chosen ruler. Instantly, she knew it was going to be a long night.

  Sindara crossed strong legs sheathed in dark pants. Her black boots went high up to her shin, and her crossed leg swayed to a silent rhythm. Tugging at the collar of a long-sleeved, white tunic, she kept her voice reserved, yet sympathetic. “Serra, no one here doubts what you have seen. Just as I am sure that there are not many who don’t wish it to be true. Even so, doing what you have in mind without valid proof is not only dangerous, but it is rather, how should I say…”

  “Insane,” said Vonack, extremely unhappy about Serra’s recount. He wasn’t partial to anything that might needlessly put Serra’s life into danger. And to that extent, she knew Vonack would pull no punch verbally. “Listen to what you are saying, Serra. You want to go running off and chasing after a ghost. You of all people should know better than that. I’ll have you bound before you go off and do anything so stupid.”

  “Not exactly how I would put it, but he still does have a point,” offered Sindara as she looked between those seated and Serra.

  Serra waited on the opposite end of the table, opting to remain standing. In fact, she didn’t think she could sit. From the moment she had been roused from the infirmary floor she had been in relentless motion. Sindara had convened to have a meeting in this room and it was the very same meeting that Serra had interrupted minutes ago when she finally gathered the resolve to come in and face what she had kindly referred to in her mind as “the firing squad.”

  Serra knew that she had to discover the truth. She owed Norryn that and she held the vision of his face in her mind to keep herself going. “Look, I know it sounds crazy. I thought of that myself when it first happened. But I know what I saw and felt from Ballor. He called for me by name. What he shared was a message meant for me.” Swallowing hard, she pulled at once curl-laden strands of hair from her face as she gathered her breath and her wits. “There is no mistaking it. I saw his face. I saw Norryn Ashener. No matter what it was Ballor witnessed, I believe it is something that needs to be looked into."

  The table was decidedly unconvinced. Sindara smiled politely, almost sadly at Serra. Vonack was clearly angered by Serra’s disregard for her own well-being because he knew good and well that she would go on by herself if she had the chance. Geyre was respectfully as far away from Vonack as possible, sitting comfortably with a mug in his hand and both legs propped on the table.

  As for Esmie, she was hard to read and had been that way since Ballor’s death. Serra didn’t know how close she was to Ballor of the Grandstaff, but Serra had heard her speak of her friendship with Muray, who was a close cousin of Ballor if Serra’s memory was correct. Ashelia looked at Serra impassively, yet there was no mistaking her disapproval. With all of this going for me, I’m sure to win them over, thought Serra dryly.

  However, she couldn’t really blame them. Only minutes before, Serra had stormed into a meeting carrying on about Norryn Ashener and what she had seen from Ballor. She had been adamant about her intentions of finding him and the immediacy she would carry it out in. In their shoes, Serra probably wouldn’t have taken herself seriously either. It wasn’t that none of them wanted to believe Serra. It was just that after five years of war and loss, it was hard to hope for something as immense as Norryn’s survival.

  But there still was a chance, and for her, that was enough.

  Serra again found the strength to continue. “Look, I know this sounds crazy. Ballor knew who I was and showed me this before he died. Norryn might be alive and might is enough for me to need to find out. I think we, no I think I at least owe him that.” Serra finished her sentence and steeled herself for a rebuttal.

  Shaking his head, Geyre scratched at his facial scar. And though Serra knew he was good at hiding his emotions, she also knew there was some reservation in what he was about to say. “I hear what you’re saying, Serra. Hell, I want to believe it too. Norryn was one of those guys you can never forget. As much of a damn fool I want to be and believe what you do, he’s gone, and we have to move on.”

  “For once in my life, I am in agreement with him,” said Vonack. As he said those words Geyre made a little “whoopity-doo” motion with his free hand. Vonack ignored him and continued. “Serra, we all know how you felt about him, most of all me. But you have to agree with us on this one. Norryn, if he were alive, which I don’t believe he is, would not want you to risk yourself looking for him or chasing after a vain hope. You loved him and he loved you and your safe
ty is what he would want more than anything. Let it go, Serra. Don’t dishonor his memory by becoming one yourself.”

  Serra bit the inside of her cheek discreetly. Just like you to use his love against me to attain your point, Vonack. You might even be right. But you of all people know how emotion trumps logic every time. She wanted to snap back a sharp reply but contained herself. He’s only trying to be reasonable. Looking from his standpoint I am sure it would make sense. However, this is my standpoint. Serra Landring remained silent.

  “Let it go, Serra,” was all that Ashelia could add to the argument. That was, in fact, more than Serra expected her to say.

  Finally, Sindara spoke again. “Serra, I can’t tell you what you saw or what it meant. I only know that if you head north, you will be in dire straits. The roads are extremely dangerous. The enemy is on our lands, with several squads of troops about and undetected by us. You could be caught, killed or worse. And I can’t spare the men right now to afford you the protection that you need. I can only ask you to stay. I will send inquiries and we will try to get to the bottom of this. But I must deny your request. I’m sorry.”

  In the silence that followed, Serra could feel their eyes upon her with varying degrees of sentiment. An uncomfortable subject and weight bogged down every single set of shoulders. Serra weighed her options, which were few. She knew the consequences and the risks. She also knew when it came to any spark of hope that Norryn was alive, none of them mattered. Still, there was much she didn’t know, questions still unanswered. Maybe it was best that she waited and figured out the next course of action.

  In her heart, Serra knew exactly what to do next.

  Nodding her head slowly, almost reluctantly, Serra spoke to the table before her. “You all are right, I know. To go north would be foolish. I’d be selfish to risk lives that way without any substantial proof.” She took a deep, long breath, hoping to ease the shakiness that she felt inside. “Just please understand this. Norryn Ashener was the best human being I ever knew. The way he made me feel, the way he made others feel, and how he touched our hearts in so many wonderful ways. I guess I feel like I owe him at least that; the hope and the chance that if he were alive that I would do everything I could to bring him home because without a doubt, I know he would have done the same for me or any one of us.” Serra finally took a breath. Once she had started the words had raced from her ready and willing to spill out the truth caged in her heart. She knew that if she continued, if she stayed any longer, that tears would come too.

  Saying no more, Serra turned and fled the room.

  Those that remained in the room said little when she was gone, for there was nothing to say. Sindara noticed that Vonack contained more color in his face than usual. Sindara could tell easily how the young man felt about Serra. He loved her deeply, and of that she was certain. To know the one you loved still loved someone long dead was painful, though Sindara could ever see Serra choosing Vonack. It was no offense to Vonack. It was just the time Serra spent with Norryn had changed her.

  Sindara mused to herself. Perhaps that time changed us all. He never judged. He always listened, and he loved life more than anyone I have ever seen. Those are things we all desperately need now more than ever.

  Sindara buried such thoughts within her as she gathered the attention of those around her and summoned for Rahn’s officials once again. The rest of the meeting was mostly a haze. Sindara addressed the issues presented and ended the meeting as soon as she could. For the moment, she felt seasons beyond her years, tired and wanting nothing more than all of this to be over.

  It seemed everything now was a shadow of what it once was. Maybe that is why Serra held on to Norryn so fiercely. Sindara could not say for certain, but it was Norryn, Alderich, and Enora that inspired a nation and drove them to be the best they could be. Though Rhoneck was surely alive, to Sindara, Alderich’s family was no more, and in its death went the drive of their entire country.

  With a heavy heart, Sindara Preece realized more than ever that Vallance dwelled always in a fallen family legacy, and their fate was eternally haunted within the echoes of a broken bloodline.

  -10-

  Without fight or contest, Serra Landring made her way back to her rooms. Those close to her rested easy in the comfort that she had resigned to stay until further details could be gained. This was a great comfort to many, including Vonack, who had guarded her door until the late hours to ensure that her room was where she remained. Though it pained him to do it, he was at least glad in the fact that she was safe. He would not find out until morning when it was too late that he was wrong.

  Using the experience she acquired from her night expeditions with Norryn, Serra gathered supplies and moved undetected from her room and into the streets of Rahn. Having some connections, it wasn’t much trouble to garner a horse and slip out into the shadows of the night. She knew that somewhere out there, Norryn Ashener was waiting for her.

  And she would find him at all costs.

  -11-

  Trennon Raymses and his men made their way through Axiter to the heart of town. While it was only a short stay, Trennon was relieved to be back. Axiter was his adopted home and despite the rigors and carnage of war, the town evoked true feelings from Trennon. This in turn allowed him to hold onto some semblance of his humanity.

  Trennon was still put at unease by the acceptance he found by the Ro’Nihn and their people. Countless times he had reviewed the events of that faithful night five years ago when Bannar fell, when he turned his back on the corruption of Thorne’s military regime and defended the fleeing populace of Bannar. He recalled surrendering and his questioning at the hands of Wyndall of the Jacoi. He replayed those moments again in his head, unable to fully fathom the twist of fate.

  Had the sides been switched Trennon would have been executed immediately. He gladly accepted such a fate when he placed his life in the hands of Axiter’s leader. To his surprise, Wyndall had released him from his restraints, telling Trennon that he knew he spoke with the utmost truth and conviction. And then Wyndall truly took Trennon by surprise with his next gesture.

  Offering his hand, Wyndall of the Jacoi had thanked Trennon, grateful to him for the sacrifice made for his country. He then offered the Thorne native a place among the warriors of Axiter as a defender of Vallance. It took Trennon long moments to register such an offer. To go from a death sentence to a new offer at life was almost unfathomable.

  With a single tear, one that the former soldier of Thorne would always remember, Trennon Raymses accepted.

  Since that day, Trennon had proven that Wyndall’s choice had been the correct one. Trennon was a tireless defender of Vallance and the deeds of his rag-tag squad of troops had spread across the lands. Their numbers never reached higher than 30 and consisted of a plethora of skillful combatants including Ro’Nihn, mercenaries, snipers, demolition experts, and other castaways from the lands of Thorne. And what the group lacked in numbers was easily made up for in sheer ability. In this, five years later, Trennon had held on to his soul and, more importantly, gained a treasured friend.

  Trennon was on his way to the Great Hall to see that friend now. As he approached, he and his crew received the warm camaraderie of the people of Axiter. Again his face twitched, but this time it was solely because he was hard to hold back a damn smile. Shaking hands with many, the group at last neared their destination.

  “Damn, I love it here,” said Donavan Nills, the resident demolition expert of Trennon’s crew. “They know a good thing when they see it.” Nills struck a confident grin, a smile that had melted many a heart before his overwhelming cockiness froze them back again.

  “There is indeed much love here,” started Vellen of the Hailborne over Donovan’s shoulder, “but for you Donovan Nills, your acceptance in Axiter is a Ro’Nihn’s test of patience and tolerance.”

  “Har-har,” said Nills.

  Trennon turned to his troops. “Consider yourselves with the night off. Enjoy yourselves but be
ready to meet back here by 0800 tomorrow.” Trennon waited for affirmations before nodding. “Well get to it then,” he added, watching as the soldiers under his command dispersed in high spirits.

  Nills could barely contain his merriment. “I hope the pub is ready for my return. I need booze!”

  “Who gets to watch Nills this time? I had it last time,” said Scoop.

  “No worries, I think Kascha’s in town,” said Vellen happily.

  “Well gawd damn!” said Nills with disgust.

  Trennon Raymses entered the Great Hall and was allowed quickly into the presence of Wyndall of the Jacoi. Upon seeing Trennon, Wyndall rose from his seat with an earnest smile. “Now there is a sour face, but still a welcome one,” said Wyndall.

  Trennon went to his comrade and friend, hand outstretched. Wyndall took it only to pull his friend in for a hug. Trennon stiffened, moving his metal fingers uneasily before putting his hand on Wyndall’s back, patting gently. He didn’t know which was more difficult to adjust to, his enhanced strength or accepting friendship. Wyndall released him, patting him on the shoulder. Trennon finally offered a wayward smile. “Same old Wyndall,” he said.

  “And who are you calling old, anyway, Trennon?”

  “War has made us old souls.”

  “But at least we still have our looks my friend.”

  Trennon’s faint smile disappeared. “Well at least one of us anyway.”

  Wyndall’s eyes narrowed. “Enough of that already. It’s not what you have, it’s what you do with it, and how do you expect any woman in her right mind to dote on you with that kind of dour attitude. Beauty is skin deep but that kind of ugly is to the bone.”