Echoes of Ashener

by David Partelow

  “Serra,” said Weiss to her ear. His voice sounded like it was being dragged over gravel. “I know why you do this for Norryn Ashener. And it is why I must now do what I must do.”

  Serra leaned closer to Weiss so that she may be heard. Reaching back, she tried to get a grip on him with her left hand. “Weiss, what are you talking about?”

  What she heard next was nothing from Weiss’s mouth, though Serra and Esmie could hear it both as plain as day. I hope that you find him, Serra Landring. Please, take care of her, Esmie. I will miss you both.

  “Weiss!” screamed Esmie. She wanted to knock sense into him but stopping meant capture or death.

  Serra frantically tried to get a better grip onto Weiss but was having no such luck. Weiss placed a hand on her back. Again, she heard his voice in her head. Goodbye. My time is upon me. My love waits in the afterlife. Live for the both of us, friends.

  “Weiss!” Serra tried one more time to stop him, but it was too late.

  In a breath, Weiss had vaulted his feet upon the seat before hurtling himself into the air. The hovercycle sped on without him. Connecting with the ground, Weiss rolled upon it, slowing his momentum. Coming to his feet he turned to face the approaching opposition. Serra, unable to stop herself, watched all that she could from the speeding cycle.

  Weiss of the Fellane walked defiantly toward the seven approaching riders, staff in hand. There was no fear within him now; only acceptance remained, and the knowledge gave him a strength and resolve unknown to him previously. Weiss leaped toward the leading rider, driving his staff into the soldier’s chest, unhorsing him. As he did so he flipped mid-air, his foot connecting with the next rider. As he landed a third soldier approached him, weapon drawn. Weiss sank low, swinging his staff like one would an axe at the feet of the horse. The horse shrieked and lurched forward, slamming its rider chest and face first into the ground.

  A shot spat from a rifle then, hitting Weiss in the back, dropping him to a knee. The rider carefully prepared for a second shot. Weiss spun and hurled his staff at him, striking him in the face. The rifle flew in the air as its owner fell off his horse. Weiss returned his attention to his first target, killing the man with a dazzling fist shot to the throat.

  It was then that another blast hit Weiss in the chest, dropping him at last to his knees. Weiss’s strength left him as he fell to his side, eyes fixed on the cycle speeding to safety in the distance. This knowledge gave him a profound sense of peace. The pursuit was halted, and his friends were safe for the moment.

  Weiss was now on his last breaths. His body fought to live but his mind knew the end was near. Weiss closed his eyes tightly, swallowing hard. His heart was prepared, yet his thoughts rebelled the prospect of death. Accepting his fate, Weiss garnered his courage to face what was to come, finding the will to face his end with open eyes.

  And when his eyes opened again, Weiss no longer saw the remaining soldiers that circled him. He didn’t know fear or pain in those final moments. All that Weiss could see, waiting for him now was everything he had ever wanted in the world. Reyna of the Hailborne stood before him now, beautiful as ever and always. Her mask was gone, revealing only the beauty that had taken him from the first day he had laid eyes on her. Weiss’s last gesture on Earth was a contented smile, for what should have been, and what could have been that now was.

  Yes.

  -34-

  Serra hugged Esmie fiercely as both women sobbed. Their escape brought the loss of another companion, another friend. While Serra did not know Weiss well, their friendship had made slow progress over the duration of the journey together. Serra had often felt his pain emanating from his being, but also, she realized his youthful, honest nature resting within. The Ro’Nihn was too young for such an end, yet he welcomed it without a second thought to keep his friends safe.

  Serra wiped her eyes slowly, wondering how many more could be lost on this endeavor. She began to question herself, feeling guilty for needing to risk the lives of others on a hope and a prayer that she had held to for so very long. She sighed heavily, feeling the burden and the pain of war on her shoulders. Death had been relentlessly sapping the spirit from her being and Serra now felt more drained than ever.

  Try as she may, Serra could not stop from crying. Just when she thought she had it licked, another wave of sadness swept into every recess of her heart and soul, opening another reservoir of tears. Serra felt so much older than her years, longing once again for an easier, happier time when days were spent dreaming away and planning the next adventure with Norryn. But those days were gone and with it the innocence that Serra could never reclaim.

  “There, there, young one, it’s going to be okay. I know it hurts.” Esmie tried her best to console Serra while managing the cycle. She dared not to stop now. The notion was made more difficult since she too was feeling the loss deeply. Weiss had been a friend as well as a fellow warrior. “That was a brave thing he did and as much as I hate it, it was his choice and he made it.” Esmie too once again fought sobs.

  Serra hugged Esmie as they rode on, and for a span there was silence between them. Serra tried to let her thoughts drift, but she was worried about the others. She prayed that they were all okay, all of them had been forced to leave in such a scramble it had been impossible to know who had managed to escape. It was as if Esmie picked up on this, for Serra could feel her reaching with her senses.

  In moments, Esmie spoke up again. “I can feel them, young one. Give me a sec.” Esmie concentrated again. “Yes, there’s Voltaire. He and Jozlyn are safe. Now let’s see here. Yes! I can feel Fahn too! Her and Vonack made it out too. Oh, happiness in dark times!”

  Serra breathed more easily then, knowing full well that everyone would all be rejoined soon enough. She rested her head on Esmie’s back, grateful at last for a shred of good news. Serra grinned easily for a moment, but quickly that smile dissolved as she pulled her head back upright with a start. A dawning revelation swept over her. “Where’s Rynsik?” she asked.

  The silence that met her from Esmie did little to comfort her fears.

  CHAPTER 7

  Storms and REvelation

  It was hours later and into the first traces of the evening. The sun struggled to administer the last of day’s light. Serra and Esmie sat impatiently, bone tired yet unable to rest with any type of ease. She couldn’t remember just how many miles they had traveled during the day, only that hundreds of miles had been spanned with little stop for rest or refreshment. And still there was no sign of the others.

  “Are you sure they know where to meet us?” Serra looked from where she stood over to Esmie who was propped against a shady tree.

  Esmie shrugged helplessly. “Well as sure as one can be in such situations, young one.”

  “So, you are not sure then,” observed Serra.

  “Well I can say with a certain clarity that I am as sure-”

  “-as one can be in such situations, gotcha.”

  The two friends sat again in silence as Serra felt a million thoughts and worries traverse her being in relentless fashion. She knew that they had done all they could and that the others could take care of themselves. Serra also knew that she should be glad they all still drew breath. But the wait was simply more than she felt she could bear right now.

  Finally, Serra broke the steady drum of silence again. “I wish there was something more that we could have done,” she whispered.

  Esmie drew a long, weary breath. “Me too, dear. Me too. But alas, our lot now is to wait for them. I know Fahn can find her way to me. Even the big lug should be able to sense my presence when I am trying hard enough. So yes, we shall wait and we will see soon enough.”

  And that the two friends did, and every minute felt like an hour to Serra. She felt as if she would burst at any minute. Serra realized that while the brutality of war had hardened her, it never stole away her feelings for those around her, especially the ones closest to her heart. Not knowing what else to say or do, Serra put her ar
m around Esmie and waited as she placed her head on her friend’s shoulder.

  Finally, after dreary moments hovering upon endlessness, it was Esmie who burst up and to her feet, pointing to the distance! “Look, young one, I see something! Yes, I know that large hulk of a lug anywhere. It’s Voltaire!”

  Sure enough, riding into view was Voltaire of the Achylles. He held Jozlyn in tow, though his hovercycle looked in bad shape. The vehicle drummed pained noises as Voltaire made his way toward Esmie and Serra. Serra focused her eyes toward Voltaire’s wake. Sure enough, he was not alone. The smile of relief upon her face grew deeper yet. “Esmie, look! It’s Fahn and Vonack!”

  Not far behind Voltaire, Fahn of the McLynne appeared safe and unharmed. As did her riding companion Vonack. To see them approach now brought a great swell of happiness to Serra’s heart. She could feel the weight lifted from her chest and soul.

  As the others arrived there were many hugs and words of relief. Serra embraced everyone she could get her hands on, including Vonack. Amid so much death and strife, the continuance of life was a cherished treasure. Serra finished her rounds of embrace on her friend Jozlyn. It was then that Jozlyn ended the short reverie with the first of the questions. “Where’s Weiss?” she asked.

  Serra bit at her lip. “I am afraid he didn’t make it. He gave his life so that we could escape.” That was all Serra could get out before the lump in her throat practically choked her. Fortunately, it was all Jozlyn needed to hear. Finally, Serra was able to speak again the question tearing away at her ever since the escape. “Has anyone seen Rynsik?”

  Jozlyn shook her head as Voltaire spoke. “I am afraid not. I hate to say it Serra, but I don’t think he made it out.”

  Serra grew shaky. Luckily, she was still holding to Jozlyn who supported her then. “Don’t say that. He can’t be dead.”

  Voltaire threw his hands up, trying to reassure Serra. “I’m not saying that, Serra. I don’t think he’s dead. I believe he’s still alive, but I don’t think he escaped the camp.”

  “Reckless young one,” growled Esmie. “He did that on purpose. He was so quick to get everyone else out he didn’t even worry about himself. Aye, how could I let him do that?”

  “He made his own choice,” said Jozlyn. “He chose us.”

  Fahn said nothing as she dropped to her knees, clenching her fist. “We failed him,” she whispered.

  “You can’t say that,” said Vonack, “he chose to be a damn hero. That’s not your fault.”

  Voltaire was able to get his large frame in between Fahn and Vonack, for it only took a breath for Fahn to be on her feet and going for the Bannar native. Serra stepped in front of Vonack for added support. Fahn stared fiercely at the Bannar native. Color came to her face not covered by a mask.

  “Don’t ever talk about Rynsik like that again,” breathed Fahn. Serra had never seen her like this before. “That boy means more to us than you could ever understand, so keep your ungrateful mouth closed. I saved your life. I think you owe me that.”

  Vonack clenched his fists as his cheeks reddened. “Hey, take it easy! I was just-”

  Serra cut him off. “-just stop now before you cause more harm than good, will you?” After a few moments, Fahn cooled enough to be released by Voltaire. Thankfully to Serra, Vonack said nothing else as he took several steps away from the others, flustered. With order restoring, Serra continued. “Look, we have had a horrible day, I suggest we try to set up camp again and get some rest. We are not done yet.”

  “What do we do now?” Fahn looked at Serra earnestly enough.

  Serra didn’t have to think before she answered. “The only thing we can do, Fahn. We go on and make sure that Rynsik and Weiss’s sacrifice were not in vain. And we see if we can reclaim Rynsik in the process. If anyone can help us do that, it’s Norryn.”

  As the group dispersed to ready for nightfall, Serra sat in silence, mind racing. Images and thoughts abounded her as Serra’s heartbeat quickened and excitement threatened to overwhelm her. Serra knew they were close, very close. Norryn was near and Serra could feel it with every fiber of her being. He would know what to do. He would know what to say.

  Norryn Ashener would make things right once again.

  -36-

  “Adaven!” Sindara Preece could hardly keep her joy in check.

  Slowly, steadily, Adaven Milestor opened his eyes. The coma that had burdened his days had at last lifted. His limbs felt like stone, yet it did not keep the faint smile from materializing on his face. From the darkness, it was pure relief to see the light. And it sure didn’t hurt to see a friendly face as well. “So, I did make it to Rahn after all. It was hard to judge the distance half-conscious while upon someone’s back.” Every syllable was a strain but Adaven meant to speak them just the same.

  “That you did.” Sindara squeezed his hand in both of hers. “And still trying to make jokes too. We’ve been so worried about you. I do hope that somehow you have learned a lesson from all of this.”

  He looked somberly at her. “I have, Sindara. The next time I am faced with insurmountable odds I will have a faster horse.”

  Sindara could not help but wrap her arms around him then. “You old devil.”

  Adaven patted her arm until Sindara finally released him. They looked at one another a moment before Adaven asked the question that had plagued his thoughts even in unconsciousness. “I must know. How is Ballor?”

  While it pained her, Sindara did not break eye contact from her old friend as she gave him the truth. “I am afraid he did not make it, Adaven. Ballor of the Grandstaff gave his life protecting yours. He would not stop until he knew you were safe.”

  Adaven closed his eyes then, and for an instant Sindara worried that he had slipped back to the darkness. But suddenly his eyes were open as he accepted the news fully. “He was a good man, that one, and a damn fine Ro’Nihn at that. Had he not intervened on my behalf we would not be having this conversation right now.”

  Sindara nodded to her friend. “I’m sure you will have quite the story to tell me once you are rested. I can say this though. There will be some soldiers from Rucker overjoyed to hear that you are awake. They plague your room’s door for hours before we practically have to drag them back to their beds.”

  Adaven chuckled at this. “Well it is nice to know I have been missed.” But suddenly Adaven’s eyes carried a gravity that weighed on Sindara as she witnessed it. “I am reminded, Sindara. I must have a word with Serra Landring if I can.”

  Sindara shook her head, squeezing again to Adaven’s hand. “I am afraid she is not in Rahn presently and has not been so since she had words with Ballor. Serra was with him when he met his passing.”

  Adaven nodded. “Then the young Landring knows at least. At last in fact.”

  Sindara chuckled at remembrance. “Either she does, or she at least knows what she wants to know. But her heart is convinced, and that can fuel even the bleakest of souls. I've not seen her with this kind of spirit and fire in long years. She means to bring him home no matter what and honestly I would expect no less of her.”

  Adaven regarded Sindara then, deeply troubled. “I’m sorry, what was that? Serra is searching for Norryn you say?”

  Sindara nodded. “She does. I don’t know what she learned from Ballor of the Grandstaff, but she is convinced that Norryn is alive and nothing anyone could say would sway her otherwise.”

  Adaven’s head sunk back deeply into his pillow. “Oh dear. I would not have expected this. I don’t know what brought this on. By all the stars, oh dear.”

  Sindara leaned forward, urging Adaven for more. “What is it, Adaven? What is it that you know?”

  Adaven Milestor told her.

  -37-

  As the day descended into dusk, Serra and her group plodded on wordlessly in their search. It had been hours since any words were spoken. The day had been laden with anticipations. Serra pointed from the back of the hovercycle and Esmie altered the course to accommodate her. The pace had
been taxing, and while everyone was growing tired, none of them dared to stop now. Everyone could feel the excitement emanating from young Serra, and none were yet ready to see it end.

  The journey had taken them very close to the ruins of Bannar, closer than Serra wanted to be. Finally, they had reached the Lorne River and headed south, never more than 30 feet from the bank. Serra could hardly contain her thoughts as her heart pounded heavily. Every now and then she had to make sure she was not digging her fingers into Esmie’s sides inadvertently.

  Serra saw makeshift tents all along the river’s banks. She wondered if this was how Norryn had endured for so long. Maybe he has been hiding, thought Serra. Maybe he lives with a great pain from that night. But then why would he feel ashamed to come to me? What has kept him away for so very long? Maybe there is something else. Maybe I should stop with all the maybes. Serra found herself confounded in her speculation.

  “Um, I hate to take away from the excitement, young one, but we should stop and rest soon.” Esmie cast a glance over her shoulder at Serra. “I’m sure everyone could use a moment to stretch and rest their butts. I know I could.”

  Serra patted Esmie on the back. “Yeah, you’re right, Esmie. Let’s go a little further and then find a shady spot.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Esmie. Another minute passed and Esmie spoke again. “So, what do you think is in store for us anyway dear?”

  Serra’s head shook absently “I still have no idea whatsoever. But we are going to find out soon I think.”

  “I had a hunch.”

  Serra offered a knowing smirk. “I bet you did. We will know when we cross that path and then . . . wait. Esmie stop!” Serra patted Esmie’s back anxiously, suddenly overwhelmed with anticipation. “This is it! this is it!”