For a moment there was only silence, but that silence quickly faded.
“She will not go without me,” said Jozlyn Corzon. “If that is Serra Landring’s path, then I will see that she is not alone.”
“And you can count me in that,” offered Vonack. Serra could hear the underlying anger in his declaration.
“I’ll go too. Whatever help I may offer to you, Serra Landring, it is yours.” Bowing his head in her direction, Voltaire of the Achylles added himself to the group.
“Um, you know, with all these young ones throwing in, I suppose someone ought to go to keep them in line and all that. Count me in.” That was Esmie of the Ryndragus.
“I shall go as well.” Emerging from the audience of warriors was a Ro’Nihn who Serra did not know. He approached Serra stiffly and the haunting void in his eyes was undaunted. “I am Weiss of the Fellane, and I have my own reasons for coming with you. My hand shall be your hand, Serra Landring.”
Serra Landring nodded in Weiss’s direction, grateful for any help she could get.
“I’ll go if you will have me then.” Another young masked woman approached the fold. Her garments were earthen colored; her mask in subtle hues of green. “Hi, I’m Fahn. Of the McLynne clans. We haven’t met but I can respect your duty to your friend, and I would like to help.”
“Thank you, Fahn, truly” said Serra.
“We’ll go too.” Two young warriors, a male and female wearing the same clan colors stepped forward. Even with the masks, it was easy for Serra to tell that they were brother and sister. “I’m Kylynne. This is Willem. We are of the Blackwells. We have business in the north anyway so we too shall go with you.”
Wyndall smiled deeply, clasping his hands together. “Then it is settled. Ten is a good number Serra Landring, and ten is the number that will head out from here as soon as you are ready. I would have you all prepare for this journey will not be an easy one. Our lands have grown perilous. Take care of each other; work with one another, and in the end come back to us safely. That is all for now. I will see you all on the training grounds shortly.” He looked at Serra and her new entourage. “After that, I am sure you all will have much to discuss.” He motioned for the same gentleman who had led her to this room. “See that when the time comes, they are placed in a room suitable to their needs.” He turned back to the entourage. “No matter what this journey unfolds, the fates take you where they must. Our hearts and our prayers go with you Serra of Landring.”
Serra heard the crowd behind her salute in unison before slowly disbanding. She turned to her new travel companions. “Thank you. I wish I could say more but no words could suffice in this, though what I can say is this; thank you so very much.”
As the room cleared, Serra remained behind to hug Wyndall. “I am in your debt for your kindness, Wyndall. I do not know what we will find but find it we will.”
Wyndall offered another warm smile. “I know, Serra. Come back to us soon.” Wyndall looked over her shoulder to see Vonack lingering at the door. Upon being noticed he finished his retreat from the room. “It would seem you have someone who wants to have a word with you presently.”
Serra growled. “You must mean Vonack. I am not looking forward to this.”
Axiter’s leader nodded sagely. “It is best to get this out of the way as soon as you can. When you are finished, meet us out in the training grounds.” He gave his young friend a warm embrace. “Ah, it is but good to see you well, Serra. Be sure to keep it that way in the future, I beg.”
“I will do what I can, Wyndall, which is all I can ever promise.” Serra then went to face the seething wrath awaiting her in the eyes of Vonack Falshore.
Wyndall watched as she vacated the room, giving the surroundings the embrace of solitude once more. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Son, as good as you are at veiling your emotions, as adept as you are in your ability, I still know when you are there.”
From the shadows, Rynsik materialized. He was, plainly put, everything and nothing like his father. Still garbed in the proud colors of the Jacoi, he approached Wyndall. Black hair draped his face, hampering the clarity and intensity of his eyes. “Aye, da,” was all that he said.
“I want you to know that I think-”
“-I should be the tenth. I know.”
“And will you?”
“Yes.” Rynsik nodded his head slowly to this, an act that looked like predestined acceptance to Wyndall.
“And what do you make of this?”
Rynsik looked at his father in the eye with unswerving conviction. “It’s a trap of course. I do not know what she saw from Ballor, but he was a good man and there must be something else there. We owe Ballor at least that. Serra Landring will not rest anyway, until she reaches death or destination. This, I do know. I will do everything I can to see that she gets back from this still breathing.”
Wyndall squeezed his son’s shoulder. “I know you will. I also know that you will be hard on her, harder than you need to be. Just try to remember that she loves Norryn Ashener and would do anything for him. Faith can be a powerful motivator, and Serra believes without a shadow of a doubt that Norryn still lives. And in that there is something. Would you not agree with that? Do you not think that there is at least a small hope that Norryn will come back to us?”
Before turning from Wyndall, Rynsik revealed a certainty of his own, one that Wyndall knew he meant with every ounce of his being. “Make no mistake, da. No matter what fate awaits us in the north, Norryn Ashener is and will still be very much dead and there is nothing that will be said to offer any solace for that.”
And with that, Rynsik of the Jacoi left the room and all Wyndall could do was watch, pained by the grimness at home in his son’s heart.
With color cascading from her face, Serra followed Esmie and Voltaire from Wyndall’s audience. Vonack’s words still stung as they echoed in her ringing ears. She did not have to walk far to find him and when she did, his fury poured from him like an endless fount. Serra’s conversation with him was now burned vividly in her mind.
Somehow Vonack had managed to stay calm, for at least four seconds. “Serra, I can’t claim to know what was going on in that brain of yours, but quite frankly you just went and did the stupidest god damn thing you could have possibly envisioned! What the hell were you thinking? No wait, on second thought, don’t tell me that. If I had to hear it, I am sure I would kill you.” Serra watched as the fires rushed from Vonack’s innards and into his neck and face as the onslaught continued. “How could you have fooled me like that? How could you have made an ass out of me and then went and risked your life as you did? I thought we were friends, Serra. Friends don’t do that to one another! Friends don’t go risking their lives and leave those that love and care for them to wonder about their fate! On second thought, why don’t you try to explain to me why you did what you did."
Serra drew a slow, evening breath. “Vonack, honestly I-”
“No, forget it! I really don’t want to know! You’ll just make me madder than I already am!” As Vonack kicked the wall Serra wondered if it was possible for him to get any angrier than he was. “Let me ask you this, Serra. Did you think about my feelings when you went out on your lonesome, even just a little bit?”
Serra paused for a moment before answering. Of course she had. Even so, how could she tell that to him? She thought about all her friends. She understood that each of them thought that her quest was crazy at best. Hell, even she knew it was crazy. And if Serra was going to risk anyone’s life, she had planned only to make it her own. “In every single way, Vonack, y—”
“Of course, you didn’t! Not even in the slightest! You had to have your own stubborn way just like always. And obviously your friends, your living and breathing friends, meant nothing to you at that point in time now did they? Did they? No, you just went about your own business thinking you knew what was best for everyone and failed to see—”
This time it was Serra’s turn to silence Vonack
and she did not do it with words alone. Very quickly her right hand shot up in between their faces. It paused only a moment before clamping down on Vonack’s lips. Serra had hoped to let Vonack vent his frustrations, but his last bit of ranting had gone too far. “Now you listen to me, Vonack Falshore, and you be sure to listen well. I will allow you to question my actions and even my sanity. I’ll allow you this tantrum because you have earned it. I’ll even allow you to vent whatever other fury you may possess. But don’t you ever, and I mean ever, doubt my feelings or my love for my friends and family. I’ll not have it, not now, not then, and not ever.”
Serra watched the muscles in her hand tighten as the redness of Vonack’s anger rose. Still, and thankfully so, he said nothing. And Serra continued. “And I cannot tell you for a fact if Norryn is living or dead, but I do know this: He was the best human being that you or I ever had the privilege of knowing. He never doubted the goodness in you, even when you chose to be a stupid, incessant little bully. Living or dead, I’ll not have you speak of him with ill favor or disdain. He saved your life and he saved mine and if the roles were switched, he’d come looking for me or you. Now you can come if you like, or you can stay right here, but either way, come tomorrow morning, I am off to find Norryn, with or without you.”
Quickly turning, Serra had left Vonack in his wrath and met up with Esmie and Voltaire.
The three of them joined many others already attending the training grounds. Serra was astounded to see so many people gathered, and more so astounded to see so many Ro'Nihn present. Many were resting from the trials of war, though many more were still young and idealistic, preparing to venture out from the safety of their home to face a violent and uncertain future. This thought alone saddened her greatly. She believed that the people of Axiter had sacrificed enough through the war.
The Axiter training grounds were a shining example of life and candor. It was as if dark times could be cast aside for an hour or two and friends and family could gather and be themselves. The surrounding townspeople merrily watched the festivities, with most of the Ro'Nihn surrounding the edges of the circle, waiting in case they were called into the action. Food and drink were served. Conversations and laughter floated on the air, mixing with the crowd’s reaction to the activity ensuing from the center of the circle.
“Come with us, Serra, you just have to see this up close, this being your first time and all. I don’t think you’ll want to miss it.” said Voltaire. His voice brought her back to the moment. As they worked their way into the crowd, people they passed bid Serra greeting and bowed politely. Serra did her best to follow suit while keeping up with her friends.
Serra found it difficult to see the action through the vigorous crowd. She was, however, happy to see that the crowd was not unruly as they watched with a deep appreciation for the festivities. An occasional ooh or ah was emitted earnestly and those were usually preceded by a loud strike or thud. Finally, curiosity got the best of young Serra. “What’s am I missing?” she asked, standing in her toes, trying to see through the crowd that obscured her view.
“Don’t you worry about that, young one. You'll see soon enough,” replied Esmie cheerfully.
Serra watched as Esmie and Voltaire led her toward the front of the circle. Both talked to a few people in the front, who in turned looked back and Serra and obligingly moved aside. Serra thanked them as she was taken just behind a group of Ro'Nihn warriors sitting cross-legged, watching and waiting.
“Ta-dah,” said Esmie with all her usual warmth and cheer. “You see, dear? Being the cat’s meow does have its advantages. So, what do you think?”
But Serra could not speak. She had become enthralled with the festivities before her.
Voltaire smiled at Serra’s response. “Yup. It has a way of doing that to you the first time around.”
Serra looked out from where she sat. On the other side of the circle was a shaded booth with seats. Underneath the roof, she could see Wyndall seated with Jozlyn and others she could not name. Surrounding them were the various clan leaders she had seen earlier. That was everything that she could absorb before being completely taken by the action in front of her.
Currently, the crowd cheered on as three young warriors circled one. It was the same fiery masked redhead from earlier. She held in her hand her dragon-headed staff. Presently, it’s fanged, open-mouth snarled at the circling warriors before Kascha of the Dryganus. With steady, reprimanding eyes, Kascha waited patiently for her quarry to strike. She had hardly even broken a sweat as her hair danced like flame in the wind.
“So, uh, are you ready to see all that stuff I was talking about earlier? I’ve always thought it best to skip talking up the bruises and show the bruiser herself,” said Esmie with a smile. Clearly, she enjoyed not being on the receiving end of Kascha's attacks.
Voltaire’s large frame shivered. “I couldn’t agree more,” he responded drearily.
Serra watched, still caught in silence. Kascha only took the initiative after her opponents committed to her with an attack. However, when she did her reactions were clear, concise and punishing. Within seconds, all three of the young warriors were on the ground, staring at their mentor. Apparently, after several years, Kascha was still able to surprise and mystify those that fought her or watched her fight. Silently, the losing party stood and left the circle.
“So subtle in her brutality,” growled Esmie to Serra’s right. “She’s a monster I tell you, and I only tell you this because she cannot hear me. You meet her at the tavern, and you think you know her after a while. Then you meet her out here and wonder what the pish-posh you had been thinking letting your guard down around this woman.”
“Uh-huh,” said Voltaire rubbing at his jaw absently. It was obvious that he too had been accustomed to the bite of Kascha’s staff.
Serra watched as Kascha used her staff to point to four new warriors. With a breath of resigned reluctance, they entered the circle and surrounded their instructor. As they assumed fighting positions, Kascha again waited patiently. It was clear to Serra that Kascha already knew the outcome of this fight. “She is amazing,” was all that Serra could muster in observation.
“Right,” said Esmie, stretching the word this time with calm, pained exasperation. “We all tend to say things like that when we watched her for the first time. And then she gets to know you. And then she points that cursed staff at you. And then you are wishing that you could think she was amazing again. Make no mistake, young one, if you were a resident of Axiter, she would have eaten you alive already. A monster I tell you. Her pleasure is our pain!”
The trio watched on as Kascha made short work of the next four opponents in brutal fashion. The one tactic that stood out most to Serra was at the beginning of the very brief confrontation. As the young pupils converged with their staffs, the one closest to her had swung his weapon fiercely at Kascha. She had raised her own staff to block it, but instead of using her strength to parry the attack, she let the momentum move her own staff in the arch of her opponent’s swing. This quickly sent her staff with great speed into the chest of another of the approaching warriors who was instantly taken out of the fight. Seconds later, the other three team mates joined him.
Finally, Kascha stuck the tail end of her staff into the ground as her latest four victims hobbled away. The crowd erupted in appreciation and anticipation. She walked to the outside of the circle but left the staff in the middle. Serra knew without a doubt that the show wasn’t over yet. In fact, she was starting to think that it was just getting started.
“What’s going on now?” asked Serra, unable to take her eyes from the festivities.
“Ugh, this is her favorite part without a doubt!” said Esmie, disgustedly.
“As if beating us to a pulp wasn’t enough,” mused Voltaire.
“I am still lost here, guys,” said Serra, trying to remind them both that this was her first time in Axiter.
Esmie rolled her eyes as she shook her head and jerked a thumb at Axiter
’s most renowned instructor. “Oh, it’s just a little something devised within that dangerous mind of Kascha,” said Esmie, “After she is done beating the tar out of us and gets bored, she plays this little proving ground game.”
“You mind elaborating a bit more? I’m still not following yet,” said Serra.
“Oh, don’t worry, Serra Landring, you will,” replied Voltaire. “You see the object of this little contest, if you will, is to bring Kascha her staff. She will start by having two warriors into the middle of the circle for hand to hand combat. When one concedes defeat, another will take his place. Sometimes they enter themselves, other times Kascha makes the pick. The one that can give Kascha back her staff will be the winner.”
Serra watched as Kascha looked about into the crowd. “And then what happens?”
Esmie sighed as she kept an eye on Kasha. “Well obviously it is kudos for the victor, as for their fate, that all depends on Kascha’s mood. I mean, there’s no assurance she won’t beat the joy out of you for winning now is there? I mean, she may buy you a drink and hail you, but personally I don’t see what’s so good about all of that if you don’t have the strength to drink the toast yourself, you know?”
“Ouch,” said Serra.
“Precisely,” offered Voltaire.
Serra watched mystified as Kascha pointed out two warriors she had not met yet. They emerged into the circle under a great cheer from the onlookers. Exchanging a sincere handshake in the middle of the circle, they squared off with one another. Kascha nodded and the fight began. It was a riveting fight that lasted for a few minutes. Finally, one warrior was taken once again to the ground. As he regained his feet, he conceded victory to his opponent, and the crowd cheered on. Kascha nodded and pointed to another individual. They now stepped into the circle and replaced the one who currently exited.
Echoes of Ashener Page 15