Echoes of Ashener

by David Partelow

  “I do the shooshing in this outfit, young lady, and don’t you forget it.”

  “Whatever, you nut.” Serra stood and put her cup down, brushing herself off. She and Esmie made their way in the direction of Rynsik.

  “Hey, you two,” said Kylynne. Esmie and Serra turned back in her direction. They found Kylynne looking up at them, sitting on a blanket with her arms wrapped around her legs. Her sharp, cat-like eyes looked at them in true earnestness. “Tell him I said. . .thank you.”

  “Will do, kiddo.” Esmie nodded at Kylynne before she turned her head back at Serra. “Are you ready?”

  “As ever as I am going to be,” muttered Serra.

  The two walked in silence through the short distance that separated them from Rynsik. His camp was a modest setup and Serra had expected no less. There was a blanket rolled out and next to that was another blanket a third of the size as the first. On it curled in a ball slept Bryndan, apparently soaking in the warmth of the illuminus with great relish. Serra and Esmie discovered Rynsik on the opposite side of the illuminus speaking with an individual. Neither could make out the person, save for the armor they wore that recognized him as an Axiter Ro'Nihn. Both Esmie and Serra remained silent so that they could pick up the conversation already in progress.

  “...and tell my father, I’d like a group of warriors sent to Wayvred. We’ll hold camp until they arrive. I’ve got a feeling that the town is not safe from squads such as the one we encountered today. They are going to need more protection and healers.”

  “I’ll see to it, Rynsik.”

  “Rynsik extended his hand. “Safe journey to you, Dellis.” The Ro’Nihn called Dellis clasped the inside of Rynsik’s forearm briefly before he headed off toward Axiter. Rynsik watched him off, and after a moment his head turned slightly as he regarded Serra and Esmie from the corner of his eye. “I’d like to say I’m surprised about the visit, Esmie, but I’m not.”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” replied Esmie before changing the subject. “Was that Dellis of the Redgrove? Why, Rynsik of the Jacoi, where are your manners? What if there were others of us who desired to be sociable with a comrade? For shame, I say!”

  Rynsik didn’t skip a beat as he took a few steps to his blanket and sat. “Considering your lung capacity and gift for gab, I would say I did Dellis a favor. Social hour is just going to have to wait.”

  “That is one thing I have always loved about you, Rynsik dear; your undeniable eloquence toward others.” Esmie smiled merrily as she hunkered down next to Rynsik. Rynsik still did not look in their direction.

  “What do you want?”

  Esmie bopped the back of Rynsik’s head. “Oh, I think you know, Mr. Man,” said Esmie as she pointed to Rynsik’s right arm. “Now let me do my job, or I will be camping with you tonight. I’m sure there is a lot we can discuss if you catch my drift.”

  Rynsik scowled at Esmie from the corner of his eye. He then looked at Serra and must have realized the futility in prolonging the fight. Letting out a long, agitated breath, he relaxed and put his arms on his knees. “Fine. Have it your way,” he said.

  Esmie winked at Serra as she stood up and behind Rynsik. She motioned for Serra to go around and seat herself on Rynsik’s right. Serra did so. Bryndan rolled out on his back and yawned. He now watched Serra and Esmie with half-closed lids and curious eyes.

  Esmie practically growled as she evaluated the injury. “Well goodness gracious, Rynsik, how long were you expecting to let this go?” Esmie gave Rynsik a slap on the shoulder. “Now I know you know better than this.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “‘Not that bad,’ he says. You still have shrapnel in your arm! I should amputate out of spite!” scolded Esmie.

  “Ouch,” said Serra as she accessed the damage. Serra saw that Rynsik had been lucky in the fact that he wore the forearm guards typical of Ro’Nihn, as a few small bits of shrapnel were lodged in various places. Unfortunately, a few pieces had struck above the guard and into the flesh above the elbow. Blood was still trickling slowly from the areas around the shards, and red had cascaded and dried like candle wax down Rynsik’s forearm.

  Esmie’s tone was one of a scolding parent. “Once again I am reminded of the prudence of having myself along to keep you young riff-raff in line. Do you have a thing for infection or something? Aye, I should bop you again. Now hold still, you hear me?”

  “Whatever it takes, so long as it will keep you quiet.” Rynsik complied and said nothing as Serra and Esmie set about their work.

  Esmie tended to the shrapnel in Rynsik’s arm as Serra rummaged for the necessary items to cleanse and dress Rynsik’s wound. As she did this, Esmie removed the first bits of shrapnel. Rynsik tensed and his eyes narrowed for a moment, but he said nothing, “Well I hope that hurt and remains a lesson to you for next time. I mean, I know you slowed the bleeding yourself, but couldn’t you have taken the shrapnel out first?” said Esmie.

  Rynsik remained silent as Serra removed his forearm guard. She thought nothing of it, as the armor came off easily. It was when her hands made contact with the skin underneath that things changed. She couldn’t quite place it, but when her hands touched Rynsik, something in her awakened. It was like subtle fire tingling through her fingertips. She looked up at Rynsik, who was in turn looking at her, and instantly she knew that he had felt it too. Trying to hide the surprise, Serra dropped her eyes and set herself back to work. She prayed that Esmie had not seen it. Instinctively, she knew better.

  No words were spoken as Esmie pulled out more pieces of shrapnel and Serra cleaned the wounds, trying to touch Rynsik as little as humanly possible. Rynsik now focused on the illuminus before him as Esmie and Serra finished their work. The two women exchanged glances. By the look in her eyes, Serra surmised that Esmie was up to something, but was waiting to act upon it. It was that stalling inactivity that really put Serra at unease.

  “Kylynne sends her thanks, just so you know,” said Esmie.

  “That was truly a heroic act, Rynsik. I saw every bit of it,” said Serra.

  “You’re just every bit the hero these days, young man,” added Esmie.

  “I’m no hero,” countered Rynsik. "Heroes create more problems than they are worth, get people killed more often than not, and generally for undeserved recognition or fame. I was just doing my duty. There is no sense making any fuss about it, and I wish you wouldn’t.”

  Esmie snorted. “Well, aren’t you just the ever-incessant pessimist!” She shook her head as she removed the last piece of shrapnel and made sure the wound was clean. “Talk about ruining a warm and fuzzy moment. Of course, that is what we love about you, Rynsik. You have this uncanny ability to take a moment and blow it right out of the water.”

  Rynsik shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? I have my moments, I guess.” Serra wondered if she would ever hear a true emotion on his lips or shown in his eyes and face. “And candor is just not my strong suit.”

  “But at least stating the blatantly obvious is, my dear,” countered Esmie cheerfully. She patted Rynsik on the shoulder and kissed him on his head just above his mask before winking devilishly at Serra. Strategically, Esmie looked at the sky to gauge the time. “Goodness me, it has gotten late! Well, my work here is done. Serra can finish patching you up. I myself should get some rest. Goodnight dear hearts! Buh-bye now!” And without another word, Esmie made a hasty, yet satisfied departure.

  Serra growled at Esmie and the uncomfortable silence that she left behind. Serra still did not want to look at Rynsik in the eye. Her one comfort at this point was that wrapping his arm kept material between her fingers and his skin. She didn’t want a recurrence of what had just came to light only moments ago. Finally, without looking up, Serra broke the nothing that carried between them. “I’ve often wondered if she is always like that,” she mused.

  Rynsik was looking out into the night. His head turned moderately from Serra’s gaze. Chancing a glance, Serra saw that he was even more distant than usual.
“No. Oftentimes she is even worse,” he said

  “I see. Not that I am surprised much by the fact.” Serra was just putting the finishing touches on Rynsik’s arm. “Well there you go. We’ll have to keep an eye on it for infection, but you are in the clear I would think.” She knew that Rynsik knew all of this and could take care of it himself, but she still felt like she needed to say something, anything. Talking to Rynsik was often an exploration into impossibility.

  “Yeah,” was all that she got from Rynsik for the effort. “Thanks.” There was nothing rude or sarcastic with his remark. It was just, as always, spoken with miles between himself and his words.

  Serra finally found the resolve to look up at the mask that guised Rynsik. “Once again it is I who has to say thank you. That’s twice that my life has been saved by your hands. You say you are no hero, but you have amazed me on more than one occasion. So, thank you. Thanks for doing the right things only because it’s the right thing to do.” As she spoke the last of those words, she realized that as she let go of his bandaged arm, her hands had squeezed his right hand as they trailed down. It had been instinctive, and she caught herself too late. Again, the fire returned.

  This brought his head around at last. Haunted hues of brownish green met her eyes, and somehow, she was taken aback. Only once had she met eyes as intense as these. However, the depth of the soul she now looked in was vastly different from Norryn Ashener. It was almost as if Rynsik of the Jacoi represented an antithesis. Even so, the puzzle was beginning to form. There were reasons that created Rynsik, and Serra was finally beginning to see a bigger picture. However, in the moment, that was no help to the heat that was quickly rising to her cheeks.

  Rynsik looked at Serra for a long, silent spell. Somehow Serra again found herself torn in the haunted shadows of his eyes. Rynsik's voice was as emotionally drained as ever. “Serra, I don’t know what it is you are looking for. What I do know is that it’s not me,” he offered. Serra thought she heard actual pain in his voice.

  The two of them remained, looking at one another in fervid silence. It was almost like they were both captured within the moment, not knowing how to break out of it. Finally, the reason presented itself. Bryndan rolled from his back and stretched languidly as he yawned. Serra was distracted by the motion as she averted her eyes to watch the large ferret. Bryndan shook himself off and hopped over between Serra and Rynsik, emitting a series of short, yet firm grunts. Serra laughed at him, grateful for the distraction.

  Rynsik looked down at his traveling companion. “You can’t tell me you’re hungry already.”

  Bryndan hopped in circles and continued his grunts.

  “Well, all right already. Hold your horses a second.” Rynsik reached for his pack and stuck a hand inside of it. After a second of rummaging, his hand emerged with a cylindrical container. Upon seeing it, the tempo of Bryndan’s grunting increased, and he grew more insistent as he hopped about excitedly. Serra could clearly see that this was what Bryndan wanted.

  “He’s quite adamant about dinner,” mused Serra.

  “Don’t encourage him,” said Rynsik as he refocused on Bryndan. “Hey. Settle down and behave yourself.”

  The grunts began to sound agitated, almost demanding.

  “I don’t want to hear it.” Rynsik held the container just out of Bryndan’s reach. Bryndan jumped toward it to no avail. “So, sit already, you ornery cuss.”

  More grunts.

  “I mean it.”

  Even more grunts.

  “Bryndan.”

  Yet more grunts with hopping now.

  “Bryndan. You’re showing off for company. Sit.”

  After much fuss, Bryndan finally grew quiet. Standing on his hind legs, Bryndan raised up, his nose almost touching the container that held his food. His small front paws waved back and forth comically.

  “That’s better.” Rynsik unscrewed the lid on the container revealing Bryndan’s meal. Somehow the ferret stayed still as he was instructed. Rynsik put the container down and Bryndan scurried over to it and began to feast. Serra giggled warmly at the sight.

  Serra quickly turned away at that moment and bit her lip. What was this that she was feeling? Even as her laughter subsided, she could feel pain, and it was wrenching at her heart. It started as a light tickle, but soon it clenched like a fist. It was almost as if happiness was forbidden to her, that the moment she let her guard down, something within her soul reminded her of the gravity that surrounded her every moment.

  And why was it worse now that she was in the company of Rynsik? There was an intangible there that she could not put a finger on. She felt at ease and on her guard equally. The casualness that she felt inside somehow left her feeling guilty. Why did the barriers that slowly fell only long to raise more for her and an individual that she hardly knew?

  Because you are betraying Norryn, that’s why. Serra shuddered at the cold voice in her head. While the statement was illogical, it still swept within her, leaving Serra feeling chilled and somehow ashamed. Instantly, and with much dread she realized that she had feelings for Rynsik, and it felt like a betrayal to her memories of Norryn.

  “I-I have to go.” Serra made her way to her feet so quick that even Bryndan took notice, pausing briefly to study her before he continued eating. Rynsik watched her every move yet said nothing. Serra felt a pang in her chest that made it difficult to breath, yet somehow, she masked such things from the light of the illuminus. “I wish you a good night, Rynsik of the Jacoi. Rest well until the morning finds us.”

  Rynsik nodded at her as she walked away. Somehow, she had the suspicion that he knew something was amiss, but she held no plans to stick around to see if she was correct or not. As she ventured away, she heard his voice very faintly. “Until then,” he said.

  Serra said nothing to those still awake as she found her blanket and space by the fire. Immediately, she covered herself from head to toe and remained motionless in hopes that she would not be disturbed. For long minutes, she fought the tears that always found her in the moments after she released her guard and allowed herself to feel anything. Biting her lip, Serra closed her eyes and hovered in the emptiness that held her for hours before true nothingness engulfed her in sleep.

  -25-

  “I’m dreaming,” said Serra easily. There was no doubt in her mind about it, for she was rested and calm, looking into the distance where a bright and beautiful Bannar stood proud and alive. Serra was again under her favorite tree, and she was not alone. She sat comfortably upon the ground, her back leaning against another individual. Without turning, she knew it was Norryn.

  She turned her head, speaking over her shoulder to her best friend. “I’m glad to see you again.”

  Without turning, he replied. “And I you.”

  She elbowed his side playfully. “Then stop making it so hard to find you. I know that I will find you, Norryn. One of these days you are going to open your eyes, and I’ll be there.”

  “And that is, of course, what I am afraid of,” he chuckled softly if only for a moment. Norryn then sighed wistfully. Serra knew a pained smile bore heavily upon his face. “I have no doubt that you will. But I wonder, have you stopped to ask yourself this. Are you prepared for what you will find?”

  The question caught her off guard. “You of course. What else would I be looking for?”

  “That may be so, Serra. But has the time not weighed on you? It’s been five years. I’ve been gone a long while.”

  “I am sure you had your reasons.”

  “But will you be able to accept them?”

  Serra couldn’t stand this any longer. She stood to face him. Turning, she somehow saw both the boy she knew and loved and a growing young man before her. “Norryn, I have no idea why you would stay away from me for so long. But that is something I will deal with after I have found you.”

  Slowly, Norryn stood, looking at her, in earnest. “Serra, I think you should stop and turn back. I worry about you.”

  “Like th
at is going to stop me.”

  “I was afraid you would say that.”

  “Stubborn to the core. I had a good teacher, you know.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah.” Serra looked at him for long moments. She wanted to reach to him, to take him in her arms, but she feared that the moment would be gone again. “Norryn,” she said, “I love you. And I am going to find you again. You have my word.”

  The dream was fading. Their surroundings were diminishing once more, but still Norryn remained. “I know, Serra. I just hope that when you do, I am more to you than just a memory.” His words were heavy as he looked behind her.

  Wordlessly Serra turned her head. Instantly, she felt surprise and even the pangs of guilt. Nevertheless, in the distance, was Rynsik of the Jacoi, looking on at the unfolding scene. She turned her head back to her childhood friend. Her wish was to remind Norryn of his own place in her heart, no matter where the fates led them, that she, in fact, did love him forever and always.

  But Norryn Ashener was already gone, and Serra was left again with the dark emptiness of a fading dream.

  -26-

  For what must have been the hundredth time that morning, Shan Fellar was knocked to the ground of the training circle. His every muscle was on fire. Sweat encased him as his lungs sought air in ravenous gulps. A small trickle of blood fell from his lip to run down his chin. Every inch of his being howled in agony, for mercy from the torment that shackled his senses.

  “Get up, Shan Fellar.” Kascha of the Dryganus clans stood not far from him. Her stance was relaxed yet poised. She was ready to attack him again and Shan knew it.

  Still reeling, Shan brought himself to his knees as he refused to take his eyes from Kascha. He wanted very much for this particular training session to end abruptly. “Kascha, I can’t go on. Put a fork in me, I am done for today.”

  “Those are your weaknesses talking. Get up. Now. The day is still young.”

  Shan’s frustrations allowed his anger to free itself from restraint. “I can’t do any more, Kascha!” He pointed downward. “It’s my legs!”