She had no idea what to do anymore.
“Everyone, start packing up,” said Jozlyn as she turned again to her friend. “Please, Serra. We’re still in danger here. If we push, we can be in Rahn by early morning. There’s been enough tragedy on this trip. Let’s avoid anymore.”
Serra felt a pang in her chest as her grief put her on the defensive. “Are you blaming me?” Her voice was pained and weary.
Jozlyn took Serra’s hand, squeezing tight. “Of course not. We all made the choice to come. We all believed as you did. But these are our friends, Serra. Our journey is over. We must get back to the safety of Rahn.”
Serra nodded slowly as Jozlyn helped her to her feet. It was no easy task, but Serra managed to get herself moving again. Every muscle felt like her enemy. Once again, with grief and pain, she contemplated a world without Norryn Ashener. The price for the confirmation had been high. Weiss of the Fellane had been killed. Rynsik of the Jacoi was still missing in action. And in the end, Norryn Ashener was still gone.
Near Serra, Esmie dropped her bag and her features sharpened. Closing her eyes for a moment she motioned for the others to get down. “Fahn sends word. They’ve found us.”
Instantly the group readied their weapons. Serra looked about the distance. Sure enough, she could make out the shapes of Thorne soldiers closing into firing range. There was not much cover from where the camp stood, but Serra knew that in the worst-case scenario, they would take their chances with the Lorne River.
The peace of the camp was then assaulted. “Listen up! You’re practically surrounded. There’s an easy and a hard way outta this and I am hoping you pick the hard way personally. Drop your weapons, now!” It was that voice again. The voice of the one with the cold red eye. The killer who had nearly taken Serra’s life as well on that horrible night five years ago.
Serra reached for her gun. “It’s him, Esmie. I refuse to surrender to that man. He’s a killer and a monster.”
Esmie nodded at her, accepting the decision gravely. She hollered back and her voice was as cheery as ever. “Um, well you see, we have collaborated on a decision and well, on the memories of Weiss of the Fellane and Norryn Ashener, we have to say, in all sincerity of course, go to hell! Upon their deaths you have fueled our fight.”
In the distance Janzen Wollace cackled, scratching at the bristles upon his cheek. “Well then maybe I can convince you to surrender anyway on the life of him.” Janzen snapped his fingers and two soldiers came forward. They brought with them a prisoner who looked beaten but thankfully intact.
“Rynsik!” screamed Serra.
“Well scratch my ass, I think this changes things just a bit!” Janzen laughed again as he put his rifle barrel to Rynsik’s temple.
Esmie’s eyes met the face of Rynsik. “Aye Dios mio,” she breathed as she clenched her sai.
Serra caught sight of him too. “No!”
“Son of a bitch,” said Vonack.
“What do we do now,” asked Jozlyn in a growl.
“I’ll tell you what you do,” came Janzen’s voice again, shaking through Serra’s very core with haunting clarity, “You drop your god damn weapons this very instant or your little buddy here gets ventilated. If you’re lucky I will give you the count of one!” Janzen pumped his rifle so that it was ready. “So, what’s it gonna be?”
Rynsik looked at Esmie with accepting clarity as she heard his voice in her head. Don’t do it. Get the hell out of here. Get her to safety.
“Hijo le,” Esmie breathed.
“What’s the plan?” Voltaire reached for his mask.
“Let’s take the bastards. They’re going kill him anyway. Let’s not let it be us too!”
“Vonack!” Serra gasped Serra as she glared at him.
“You know it’s true Serra! We have to fight!”
Janzen looked at his enemies as if they were mad. “You shits wish to try my patience?” Janzen sounded beside himself. “Fine! Let the countdown begin!”
“What’s the call, Esmie” Jozlyn held her pistols at the ready.”
“We can’t!” Serra’s stance was firm.
“One!” Another sick smile painted Janzen’s face. He turned his head to Rynsik, obviously overjoyed at the excuse to kill.
“Wait!” Esmie screamed. “Fine, you win!” She threw both sai to the ground, imbedding the blades into the dirt.
“What?” Vonack looked at Esmie incredulously.
Esmie looked around at the others sadly. The decision had not been an easy one, but her allegiance was to Rynsik and his father. Slowly she placed her hands on her head as Thorne soldiers closed in to apprehend them. With a heavy heart she motioned with her head for her friends to join her. As weapons fell to the ground Esmie’s eyes met Serra’s. “I’m sorry. It’s over, young one,” she said.
-40-
“Steady! Steady I say! Hold your positions! Shields at the ready!” Order was forming as Wyndall of the Jacoi’s orders were carried out. The front line readied their towering shields for an onslaught of laser fire. Axiter Ro’Nihn pushed to the front acting as squad leaders. Behind Wyndall, Sindara Preece had the archers and artillery at the ready. The one grace Wyndall could already see was that Cresul’s mobile fighting force was not carrying their heavy artillery. You have come to win this battle with men, Cresul. And I am going to take the fullest advantage at evening the odds because of it, he thought.
Wyndall assessed the battlefield. Before him and his troops rested a daunting task. Cresul’s forces were at around 30,000 strong, organized and hungry for action. His force presently outnumbered the defenses of Rahn by more than double. Now they marched with definite certainty upon the town. Somehow yet again, General Cresul had forced the hand of Vallance and the V.F.U. forces. The pressure was on more than ever, and Wyndall knew the odds. Retreat was not an option and loss would most likely spell the defeat of his country. As such, Wyndall’s decision was made.
Wyndall turned to one of his guards. “Hang my banner.” Wyndall watched as two Ro’Nihn placed the colors of his clansmen upon the ground. Again, his voice thundered as he addressed the men and woman under his command. “These are my colors. This is my crest and the symbol of my loyalty to my people and to Bannar. By my blood and my life, this banner will not fall! Vallance, today we at last stand and fight as one! For Vallance!”
Wyndall quieted himself as the troops took up his rallying cry. Wyndall held firm to the sword in his hand, keeping his horse calm. This battle would be bloody, but if his blood was to be spilled on this day, it would be spilled with his comrades, for his country and for the memory of Alderich Ashener. Let them come now. They will find us ready.
Suddenly Wyndall’s thoughts were filled with a familiar voice. Strong words, Wyndall. Though it honors me to know that it is you that I face in combat. Victory from anyone else on this day would not be worthy.
At the sound of his voice, Wyndall’s anger and resolve doubled. Rhoneck. Know that if our paths cross today, you are already dead to me, traitor. Wyndall steeled his mind, shutting himself off from any further response. The time had come. Wyndall raised his sword. “Artillery! Open fire!”
From within the walls of Rahn burst great bursts of intent. Surging through the air in an arc flew great cylindrical armaments at tremendous speeds. Reaching the peak of their ascent, they burst open, spitting out clusters of jagged arrows, before descending upon the approaching Thorne troops like savage rain. The torrent raged through the lines of Thorne’s men, tearing large groups to pieces. It was enough to slow the advancing wave as hundreds of Thorne regulars met their demise.
Wyndall was somewhat encouraged. “Reload! Fire at will! Archers! Prepare to fire on my command!” Wyndall would continue this barrage for as long as safely possible. Then he would have the archers open up upon his enemy. It was this combination that he hoped would heavily even the odds, getting this closer to an even match. For now, all Wyndall could do was continue the pressure and hope for the best.
-41-
Rhoneck Ashener watched as cluster after cluster of troops met their deaths to the effective rain of artillery. He’d requested for Thorne’s own artillery to match it but had been denied the requisition. The cumbersome travel would have slowed troop movement too much for this attack. He was happy to see that Wyndall of the Jacoi was pulling no punches. No matter, thought Rhoneck. I still have planned for such contingencies. Rhoneck motioned with his hand. “Send them forward!” As his order was carried out, Alderich Ashener’s eldest son smiled easily.
-42-
Wyndall watched as the approaching Thorne army came to a halt. Breaking formation, the troops opened rank in the middle, allowing another set of troops to come to the front lines. At the sight of them, Wyndall’s heart sank. “Artillery! Cease fire! Cease fire!” Cursing to himself, Wyndall held tighter to the sword in his hand, his knuckles becoming white as he gritted his teeth.
Rhoneck Ashener had prepared for Rahn’s artillery. Revealing his hand, Rhoneck sent new troops to the front lines. Wyndall of the Jacoi recognized them easily, for they bore the garments and colors of Vallance, perverted and covered with the tabard of Thorne’s colors. Their banners and insignias were those of the northern regions, particularly the free towns of Galvin and Allandar. These were citizens of Vallance, captured, tortured, and retrained to fight their own. And now Rhoneck Ashener was using them as cushion for his own troops. Unfortunately, his plan had worked. Wyndall could not bring himself to fire upon them. “These men and women are our own! I will take very means necessary to bring them back to our fold.” Wyndall’s burden grew that much heavier. “Archers! Watch your aim and pick your targets!”
Wyndall of the Jacoi clans exhaled bitterly. Things would now get ghastlier than he desired.
-43-
Thus reorganized, Thorne continued forward, starting as a steady march, but the tempo soon increased. Rahn’s archers sent controlled bursts into the military wall in front of them, hoping for the best. It was not long before Rhoneck Ashener’s voice filled the battle and the blood of his men. “No survivors! For Thorne! Charge!”
And charge they did.
The legions of Thorne burst forward, their screams curdling the blood of the men, women, and children seeking safety within the walls of Rahn. The ground boomed mercilessly, foreshadowing the impending collision. As they got into firing range, the soldiers of Thorne fired with their rifles on Rahn’s defenders. Shields thwarted much of the barrage, yet many still fell. Soon double bayonets extended from metal rifles as lusty screams for blood filled the air. Handfuls of grenades made their way into the Rahn lines, their explosions sending bodies flying to pain and death. Archers returned the favor from Rahn’s walls. With another unified scream, the soldiers of Thorne pushed forward stronger still. Wyndall and his men stood at the ready.
And then the two armies connected.
-44-
From within her quarters, Esaundra Denore could hear the ensuing battle. Slowly it had commenced, but then the masses of Thorne had collided with Rahn’s defenses, sending a shockwave of pain and rage, instilling the Vallance regent with an overwhelming dread. Finishing her glass of wine, she was powerless to stop the tears as they invaded her weary eyes. Soon her failure would be complete and the lands of Vallance would be no more. The futility in her heart plagued her with every beat.
“So, this is the end,” she said. Her voice trailed listlessly as she gazed upon the hazy sunlight whispering from the window.
“Don’t say that, love,” as ever, Dendral Winters was by her side. “Nothing is ever over until it is over.” He had no problems offering these small comforts to her now. The final blow was at hand. Soon he would be away from this god forsaken country and back to his own. For now, he would gladly carry out the final part of his mission.
Esaundra waved off his response bitterly. “But it is. It’s over. . .over. Only the grief of my failure outweighs my selfish relief that there is nothing more that I can do.”
Dendral approached her, placing his arms around Esaundra. Kissing her head, he went to procure her another bottle of wine. Reaching into the back, he smiled inwardly. He’d been saving this vintage for some time now, holding it for a special moment such as this. Opening it, he poured some of its fragrant contents into Esaundra’s empty glass. Enjoy it my dear, for while it will kill you where you sit, it will be the best that has ever touched your lips. It was the least I could do for being such an exquisite pawn in our little game.
Esaundra accepted the filled glass gratefully, holding it in both of her hands. She closed her eyes, trying hard not to break down completely. Calming herself with a few steady breaths, she began to show a budding bout of clarity. “I only wish I could have been more like my sister. Enora was the strong one. She would have known what to do. I couldn’t even keep one promise to her. Why did I have to be so weak, Dendral?”
Dendral offered her a brave smile. From my standpoint you were everything I could have hoped for. “You have done everything you could. That is all anyone could have asked for, my love. But you cannot give up now.”
It was then Esaundra laughed. She looked at Dendral in earnest, swishing the wine in her glass. “I am tired, Dendral. I refuse to waste what strength I have on hope when there is none left.”
Dendral cast her a shocked glance. He had grown a pro at controlling and utilizing a spectrum of feelings, one of his many deceptive talents. “Esaundra, how could you say such things?”
It was then that her smile and laughter withered. Her eyes sought out his, for then she wanted him to know the depth of her conviction. “Because I know, my love. I know everything now.”
There was a slight faltering in Dendral’s facade, but he quelled it well. “What are you talking about?”
Esaundra stood to face him, coming close to his face. “I know now the sting of treachery, how my brother in law must have felt when he faced his son. I know which side you play for, Dendral. It will be my forever regret that I did not discover sooner.”
“My love, what on Earth are you-”
Esaundra held up an impatient hand to quell his words. “-oh, stop it now. I think we are a little too far in for you to play coy anymore. You know damn well what I’m talking about. After all this time, after everything we have been through it was you, Dendral. You have shared my bed and my hopes and all the while, you have used me for your plans. I was more than fool for you. I was just a fool.”
Dendral didn’t have the words. He reminded himself of the dagger he kept inside his belt. All Esaundra had to do was yell and the guards would be in to take him, perhaps even kill him. All Dendral could do was try to buy time for his moment and hope that it arrived. “How did you know?”
Esaundra turned from him, retaking her place upon her seat. “I had begun to have my own doubts, but my heart refused to see the truth in front of me. The Ro’Nihn messenger came to me and I of course sent him to you. I trusted you would do what needed to be done, for I no longer had the words or strength. I was weak, so weak in fact it is going to cost everything my sister and her family fought for.” Finally, Esaundra returned to her seat. The weight on her chest may have been lifted, but the scar it left upon her heart was dire indeed. She looked at Dendral for long moments and then at the door. Outside the battle still raged on.
Dendral swallowed hard as sweat formed on his forehead. “I suppose there is no more reason to hide the truth anymore,” he offered casually.
Esaundra leaned back in her chair, laughing painfully. “Not at all, my love, for I know everything now. I even know that this superior vintage you have saved for me is poisoned. I checked as soon as I suspected you.”
Gritting his teeth, Dendral Winters still debated his next move. “What now?”
Esaundra smiled sadly as she relaxed in her chair. Casually she placed an empty glass next to the open bottle. “Well, Dendral my love, my life, my regret, I can say this. I no longer know your fate, yet I can see mine quite clearly. Cheers.”
Raising
her glass. Esaundra Denore drained its contents.
-45-
Chilling darkness overwhelmed Serra and the others. They had been disarmed and bound before thrown into the back of a large, metal vehicle. The ride had been beyond bumpy, flinging its prisoners every which way. Serra and the others held on, mostly in silence as they were taken on a trip that lasted at least eight hours.
Serra had been thankful that she had managed to sit next to Rynsik, and even more glad that he was still alive. She had told him as much, but he had not been forthcoming with his responses. Serra found herself again talking to the barriers that the Ro’Nihn placed for himself. Rynsik had not made eye contact with Serra since their reunion. Her only guess was that he was disheartened by the group’s capture.
Serra found herself sleeping off and on in the darkness. Each time she woke she found herself laying her head on Rynsik’s shoulder. He still said nothing yet protested not at all. Somehow, Serra still felt safe with him, even in the midst of imprisonment and despair. It was Serra who told him the news and the groups discovery.
“We found his grave,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said.
“You thought him dead the whole time, didn’t you?”
“I believed that he was, yes.”
“And yet you still came. Why?”
But Rynsik of the Jacoi said nothing more.
It had seemed that an eternity had dragged across that space of time. Serra believed that the ride had been intentionally erratic to keep them awake and exhausted. Every now and again the warrior of metal would pound a mighty hand on the side of transport to give them all a start. Serra’s fury for him burned unchecked. As far as she was concerned, Norryn Ashener would be alive today if not for him.
Echoes of Ashener Page 31