Echoes of Ashener

by David Partelow

  And that was longing.

  It was Rynsik who broke the gaze, turning away. “Serra, you shouldn’t,” he said, but it was all he could say.

  She said nothing else as she reached her left hand across the hand holding his. Taking his cheek within her hand, she moved his face so that he was again facing her. Serra’s hand caressed his mask and at its edges, his face. His eyes closed and he trembled as if pulled by opposing magnetic forces. He tried to move his face away, but Serra would not let him.

  Leaning forward, Serra slowly placed her lips upon his forehead, partially touching mask, skin, and hair. Gently she kissed him there. “Thank you, Rynsik. Thank you for everything.” The only sounds were a crackling fire and two fierce beating hearts.

  Slowly, steadily, Serra’s lips traced down Rynsik’s mask. They were practically eye to eye now, their lips just breaths apart. She knew now they were both powerless in that instant. She whispered his name. Closer and closer they neared. She squeezed his hand as she eased his face yet closer to hers. And, in an overwhelming moment, their lips met.

  Serra swiftly felt a fire that had culminated over long, difficult days. Words could not describe what she felt in those seconds as her heart raced. The tendrils of a thousand sensations swept her within every rapid in her chest. In that instant, she felt not the war-worn weariness that weighed upon her for the past five years. Serra felt different, elated somehow. She somehow felt every ounce of her being in a second held out of time.

  Serra felt alive.

  Serra knew the kiss lasted only a few brief seconds, but the chords felt eternal and clear And, just like that, it was over. Their contact was ended swiftly as both Serra and Rynsik pulled from the other in hasty surprise. Serra knew it was her fault for that and couldn’t help it. In her mind was a single thought that severed the bliss shared only seconds before. Rynsik too had picked up on it as well, and with that single thought, the connection between them was broken.

  Norryn.

  Serra was surprised by this. Was it guilt? In some way did she feel that she was betraying the young man she had set out to find? Emotions swirled within her as she turned from Rynsik, gulping air in large pulls. Easily she was torn between her newfound attraction and her deep-seated loyalty. It was somehow a culmination and a travesty within her all at once.

  Serra tried to calm herself, attempting to sort the emotions set afire within her. Still, she felt powerless to sort it all out. Was this love? Was it in conflict with the love that already existed within her? Were the two the same kinds of love? Norryn had always told her to follow her heart, but what if it was the heart that was leading Serra astray?

  Serra pleaded inwardly for one thing in her life to be simple. As she composed herself, she realized that Rynsik was standing. “Rynsik,” she whispered.

  “I should go,” he said softly. And in his distant voice Serra swore that she heard sadness.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He still did not look at her, focusing his sight upon the fire. “You know why,” he said. Again, she felt him shutting down, shielding once more any trace of feelings felt in the last few moments.

  Serra was contenting herself to watch him go, to let him leave again in silence. But then, something inside Serra screamed against it. Without thinking she shot her hands out and took hold of his left wrist. She felt the flames again at the touch, but she pushed passed that for now. “No,” she said.

  “No?”

  Serra shook her head once. “Stay with me tonight,” she said. It was a pure request as she gazed at him in earnest. “Just stay. Please.”

  Rynsik made one attempt to free his arm before looking again at Serra. She could get lost in his eyes, and somehow, Serra knew in that instant she was no longer afraid of his depth or sadness anymore. Clutching his fist, Rynsik resigned himself and sat once again. But he did not look at Serra again that night. Instead, Rynsik contented his eyes and his thoughts upon the fire before them.

  Rynsik and Serra sat wordless for some time, as no words needed exchanged. The depth of understanding between them lessened and increased at once. It seemed to Serra that she was one step closer to him and he was one step further away. It was hard to fathom, much less explain. Serra hated the fact that things had to be so damnably difficult.

  Finally, Serra turned her head to regard Rynsik once more. She wasn’t going to press her luck again that night with any type of conversation. Silently she raised her hand. This time she ran it through his long, black hair. Rynsik turned his head once more from her, shying from the contact. Pressing on, Serra placed her hand through his hair and upon his neck. Wordlessly she began to run her fingertips around the flesh she found there.

  Rynsik tensed again, but soon he slowly tilted his neck to her touch. His head sunk lower as she continued to massage. Rynsik exhaled a long, appreciative breath as his eyes closed. Serra wondered how long it had been since Rynsik had experienced such contact. She continued as Rynsik’s limbs grew increasingly heavy.

  Soon Rynsik was leaning to the left, toward Serra and she knew that he was drifting. Saying no words, Serra cupped his head and guided him to her lap. Absently he raised his right hand, placing it on her leg, almost hugging it. Serra could feel the tension of him fade, feel the calmness somehow washing over him.

  And then, for the first time that Serra saw on this trip, Rynsik slept.

  Serra smiled serenely as she listened to Rynsik’s rhythmic breaths. She continued to watch over him for some time, somehow happy now that the young warrior was at peace. Serra leaned her head forward again, kissing him on the forehead. She then rested her right arm and head on his shoulder, still running her left hand through his hair. She remained in this position, at complete peace herself, as tranquil nothingness found her as well.

  -31-

  “Well oh my stars and all of that jazz, would you look at this scene?”

  Serra was pulled quickly from a deeply tranquil slumber. Her legs ached as she looked down at her lap. Sure enough, Rynsik still slept soundly. Serra caressed his head again before turning her focus to Esmie. She had forgotten that Esmie was ever the early riser and now she was going to pay for it.

  Esmie clasped her hands together as she hopped up and down, overly exaggerating her enthusiasm. The Ro’Nihn healer was reveling in the moment and she wasn’t about to let it go unnoticed either. “Everyone, rise and shine! You must see this. Once again, I was right, for I am always right, but still you must see! Voltaire! Get up, ya lug! Jozlyn, up and at 'em! Weiss, you too. Everyone, look and see the young ones! Love is in the air!”

  Esmie was met with a series of groans.

  “I could shoot her,” said Jozlyn drearily.

  “Yeah, I’m for that,” added Voltaire yawning.

  “You got my vote,” said Weiss.

  “Uh huh,” added Fahn.

  Esmie scowled as she pointed an angry finger at those still longing for rest. “I’ll not stand for such mutiny before breakfast! Now let’s go, you bed bugs! Your melancholy and belly-aching shall not diminish this fine morning!” Esmie leaned down so that only Serra could hear her. “I am so happy for you, my dear, if you didn’t know that already.”

  Serra nodded softly. “I think you painted a pretty good picture, Esmie, thanks.”

  “Ever and always the pleasure young one,” confided Esmie as she headed merrily to the pack attached to her hovercycle.

  More groans and complaints filled the camp as everyone slowly stirred. Voltaire rolled back over to catch a few more winks. Others like Jozlyn and Weiss sat up, but it was clear by their gloomy expressions that they were not happy. Fahn reached in the pack and pulled out her paper and writing utensil. Serra hoped that she was plotting revenge upon Esmie. It appeared that only Vonack was truly awake. He sat at the edge of the camp drinking hot tea. His eyes met Serra’s for a moment then not again. Serra shook her head slightly before turning her attention again to her lap.

  Rynsik turned so that he was lying on his back. As Serra tr
aced a hand down his mask where his cheek was hidden, he slowly opened his eyes. For a single, wonderful moment, Rynsik looked truly at peace to Serra, almost carefree. Their eyes locked again, swimming within each other for a breath. Serra could almost forget about the grief and pain that burdened her soul.

  “Hey,” she whispered.

  “Hey,” he replied.

  She cocked her head slightly so that she was closer to looking at him eye to eye. “Sleep well?”

  Without breaking eye contact, he smiled again, yet ever so slightly. It had been like a whisper; you had to strain to catch it. “I did, somehow. And it was magic,” he replied.

  For some reason, Serra had all the confidence she needed today. “I just wanted you to know that–“

  She was cut off suddenly, for Rynsik’s eyes did finally break contact. But before they did, they had widened in surprise and revelation. He lurched forward taking Serra in his arms as he pushed her toward the ground while screaming. “Down! Everyone, get down now!”

  Those were the only words he was able to produce before laser fire blanketed the camp. Luckily many were able to heed Rynsik’s warning and duck down for cover, save for Weiss. Just standing and stretching the sleepiness from his bones, Weiss had turned his attention to Rynsik as the young Ro’Nihn screamed. It was then that one of the laser blasts caught him in the abdomen, doubling him over and sending him to the ground. Weiss collapsed with a grunt as chaos tore through the entire camp.

  In horror, Serra saw Weiss fall to the ground. Before she could react, Rynsik had sprung into action. He rolled toward her, using momentum to knock her backwards to the ground as his body instinctively maneuvered to cover her. She tried to free herself so that she could reach Weiss but escaping Rynsik’s grasp was nigh impossible. He beat her to the punch again as he called out for Esmie to see to Weiss. Fahn too crawled over to assist. Serra could see that Weiss was not well, but he was moving at least.

  More destruction poured into the encampment relentlessly and an explosion erupted as one of the hovercycles was shot to ribbons. The incoming storm of gun blasts kept the group effectively pinned. Serra’s attention was drawn to a bellowing of horses as her own and Vonack’s fell to the ground. Both were in the throes of death and Serra could feel the agony of both dying creatures.

  Seeing the two horses fall was enough for Jozlyn, as the thought of losing Surewind was too much for her. Instantly she was up on one knee, guns drawn and blazing in the direction of the incoming assault. Jozlyn fired a burst, reloading quickly and instinctively. With their enemies distracted, she headed toward her horse, firing at the strap that held Surewind tethered in place. Jozlyn then smacked her freed horse on its rear, instructing it to flee. Years of training and friendship allowed her horse to do just that. As Jozlyn laid down cover fire, Surewind sprinted away at an amazing speed. Jozlyn made sure the horse was clear of danger before allowing herself to once again seek cover.

  It was Rynsik’s turn to move them. Pulling Serra up from the ground, he shielded her from the direction of gunfire as he shouted orders amidst the maelstrom. “Everyone! To the cycles! Jozlyn, cover us. Go, go, go!”

  Serra heeded Rynsik’s orders as he practically dragged her toward the cycles. The others worked their way over as Jozlyn unleashed another salvo of retaliation. Finally, Rynsik allowed Serra to help Esmie with Weiss as he turned his attention to the attackers, doing his best to deflect incoming laser fire. With a great effort Serra and Esmie were able to get Weiss to the cycle as Esmie brought the engine to life.

  Voltaire and Fahn both brought their cycles to life. Shooting off a few rounds of his quadbow, Vonack hopped onto the back of Fahn’s. He urged her forward as she gunned the throttle. Just a few seconds behind them, Voltaire screamed for Jozlyn to hop aboard. Sending off two final shots, the gunslinger did so, holstering her guns as she wrapped her arms around Voltaire’s waist. Upon feeling this, Voltaire accelerated forward as well, sending his cycle screaming off after Fahn. Esmie was about to follow suit when Weiss hopped off the cycle from in between the other two riders.

  “Wait, Esmie! Weiss, what are you doing? Get back here! Weiss!” Serra turned her head to see him, inching closer to Esmie as she did. Her eyes then caught a glance of their approaching attackers. Serra could see many soldiers approaching them swiftly. But through it, somehow amidst the horde sweeping down upon the camp she caught sight of a single red orb glowing coldly where a regular eye had once resided. Serra’s focus centered on the bristly, sinister face that approached and smiled with cool, casual satisfaction.

  And in that instant, Serra was brought back to that faithful night five years ago at the fall of Bannar, the night she was almost killed. She remembered the man’s grip as well as his putrid breath. Serra remembered that it was he that had taken Norryn Ashener from her. Instantly, anger spread from within her as her hands clenched at Esmie’s sides. And through it all, Janzen Wollace still held that sinister smile of cruel satisfaction.

  “You!” hissed Serra as she shook uncontrollably.

  “Weiss, get back here this instant!” Esmie frantically urged her comrade to rejoin them. Weiss stumbled over to where he had been sleeping and grabbed his staff. Taking two big strides he leaped upon of the waiting cycle, scrunching into Serra and Esmie due to lack of room.

  With Weiss thus on, Serra turned her head back to Esmie. “Go!” she screamed but Esmie was already away. The cycle roared from the encampment and away from the tatters that was their camp only moments before. But as they tore away, the sickening visage of Janzen hovered completely within Serra’s thoughts.

  -32-

  “Can’t you make this rickety thing go faster?” Voltaire heard Jozlyn’s gritty voice booming in his ear as he accelerated away from the shambles of their camp.

  Voltaire shook his head grimly as he replied. “Don’t I wish! Unlike us, it didn’t make it out from back there without holes in it!” Voltaire had made a mental note of the damage to the side when had started the cycle. Not that he would have needed the visual clues, as Voltaire knew every nook and cranny of his ride. He instantly heard his cycle’s protest to the weight it bore and his insistence on more acceleration. While Thorne had not been able to throw anything their way that could match the speed of Vallance vehicles, Voltaire recognized that the speed advantage had been neutralized presently.

  “I was afraid you might say that,” she hollered in his ear.

  “Me too. We are not out of this yet. Look” he replied over his shoulder.

  Jozlyn quickly noticed Voltaire’s concern. Ahead of them were seven riders of Thorne bearing down upon them. All seven held the reigns of their horse on one hand and a waiting rifle in the other. They would soon be in a decent firing range. “Keep going,” she ordered.

  Voltaire nodded, not asking any questions. Gritting his teeth he made his way toward the incoming opposition. Voltaire was about to ask the plan when he felt the blur of Jozlyn’s arms and hands across both his shoulders, pistols in hand. Using his broad shoulders for support, she opened fire. Voltaire did his absolute best to keep his focus as deadly blasts spat from Jozlyn’s weapons.

  Once more, Voltaire was dazzled by the precision of Jozlyn. Her shots tore through the approaching swarm, felling many and forcing the survivors to alter their course. The line before Jozlyn and Voltaire split as they broke through it. In a heated second, they coasted past the three remaining riders of Thorne. Voltaire allowed himself to breathe for the moment.

  But Jozlyn was not through yet. Her guns went to her sides as she released the spent clips. In a deft motion, Jozlyn swung the guns across her outer thighs, which held fresh, ready clips. Both accepted the reload almost simultaneously. In a heartbeat, the guns were up again, loaded and at the ready. It took only a hair’s breadth for Jozlyn to be prepared to unleash further destruction.

  Wordlessly, the gunslinger wrapped her arms around Voltaire’s neck. Using him for support she propelled herself. Her feet touched the seat behind Voltaire for a moment be
fore she swung herself up and around. Jozlyn landed on the seat again smartly; now back to back to Voltaire. Taking aim again, Jozlyn fired once more.

  Jozlyn’s results the second time around were no less deadly. Horses tripped or bucked as their riders were cut to ribbons in a maelstrom of gunfire. In the entire melee, only one soldier had gotten off a shot. A single bolt from the rifle had soared into the sky as its wielder had been blasted from his horse. Voltaire had almost crashed into the body in the initial passing. With deadly, violent precision, Jozlyn had dispatched of every one of their opposition and the way was now clear.

  In another swift movement, Jozlyn’s guns were back in their holsters. She appeared calm and even, but she had refused to turn back around. Voltaire left her in silence for the moment, wondering if she too weighed the gravity of her actions as he did himself. He was coming to realize that he and Jozlyn had more in common than he once thought. The thought gave him comfort and cause for alarm equally as he drove on in silence.

  -33-

  “Do you think we can lose them?” asked Serra as she looked over her shoulder at the pursuit of horsed soldiers in their wake. She screamed her question in Esmie’s ear because it looked as though their enemy were gaining.

  Esmie said nothing, though she did glance back at Serra from the corner of her eye. Very slightly she shook her head. The weight of 3 was too much for further acceleration. All Esmie could do was delay the inevitable.

  Serra bit her lip in frustration, powerless to do anything to help. Her frustration was compounded by the fact that she knew that Weiss was hurting behind her and there was no time to stop and tend to him. He had to hold on until they reached safety. And presently, safety was looking to be a long shot at best. Serra picked her brain for any idea or notion that might help them out, and currently nothing came to mind.