Remnant Pages Spearhead

by J.B. Kleynhans

  ‘The forgotten,’ whispered Olexion in recognition.

  ‘Yes, of all the Kingdom Summoners only I have never been made to forget. I stand vigilant over my kin, ever ready to serve the Kingdom.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Olexion.

  ‘Rogue Summoners are more dangerous than anything else in the world Captain. Even when we give them their memories back we only lend to them a functional fraction so they do not grow conscientious and turn upon the Kingdom,’ said Tabacher.

  Olexion was horrified. A person without memories. What has become of one if you don’t have memories? When your most essential recollections were denied?

  ‘How are their memories restored?’ asked Olexion, his mind trying to justify what he was seeing.

  ‘It is good that you ask,’ said Tabacher, ‘like this.’

  Tabacher strode to a particular sphere. He waved his hand mystically and the cocoon burst with a pop and a blast of water. Instantly a naked woman crashed down on the floor, groaning in pain on the cold wet stones.

  Olexion immediately reached out to help her up, but Tabacher pushed him away.

  ‘She is dangerous!’ warned the Grandmaster.

  She didn’t look like anything threatening to Olexion.

  ‘Rise,’ said Tabacher callously.

  The woman did so, weakly, her knees caving in several times before she could stand upright. From her face Olexion could see that she did not know who or where she was.

  Casually Tabacher took a small crystal stone from his robes.

  ‘This is an Alder stone,’ said Tabacher, holding it out for Olexion to see, ‘it holds all the memories of a Summoner like Yarea here; it can take as well as give, and that to whatever extent necessary. They are, needless to say, one of the most crucial devices in the Kingdom. In time you as well will have to be able to operate one of these. Observe.’

  Without seeing if Olexion was keeping up, Tabacher held the stone to the woman’s temple. As if recognizing the Summoner the stone shone bright, sending revolving flashes of light all over the dimmed hall. In response her face went rigid, her mouth agape, her eyes wide and her body quivering, the cold and pain inescapable as though the stone’s mystics kept her upright through it all.

  Even back then Olexion was a hardened man that had killed mercilessly in his life. Somehow though he did not know how much more he could take of this.

  10 seconds…

  30 seconds…

  A minute…

  The woman’s pale body trembled so that she was inevitably down to her knees again, Tabacher keeping the brightly flashing stone above her head. Every passing second Olexion fought the urge to knock the Grandmaster out of the way and help the girl, to preserve some decency in any case.

  Finally Tabacher put the stone away in his robes, the light disappearing again. To a speechless Olexion the Grandmaster said, ‘like you might imagine, there is much more to it than just bringing the stone into contact with a Summoner. Your experience of magic will, once you are trained, allow you to selectively take and insert memories into Summoners. But that is a matter for another day.’

  Tabacher turned to the girl. ‘Get up,’ he ordered.

  The woman complied.

  ‘Dress yourself and take the normal set of scrolls from the library. Report back to me to receive your mission briefing.’

  The woman left without a word, clearly still not in her right mind, yet with enough cognition now to know where she was and who she served.

  Olexion found his voice as the girl left the room.

  ‘Grandmaster this is madness! These Summoners are nothing better than the Fallen!’ cried Olexion.

  Tabacher laughed deeply, amused and not all rattled by Olexion’s outrage.

  ‘Do you think you are the first Ranger to react like this? I know son; this does not appear chivalrous. Remember, these were once men and women who claimed themselves masters over humanity. Now they serve out their purpose for the glory of the Kingdom.’

  ‘You are one of them. You are not treated like this!’ shot Olexion.

  ‘I am the keeper and therefore I bear the responsibility and the burden of having to see my brethren degraded to such an existence so that all humanity can live without fear,’ explained Tabacher.

  ‘Grandmaster… I do not know what to make of this,’ said Olexion.

  ‘Give it time young Captain. The men you know, your superiors, do you think they would have supported me in this if they didn’t think it necessary?’

  Olexion was silent.

  ‘First-Ranger Kieran is growing old. One day you will take his place and become a hand of greatness that will protect thousands of lives. Of that I have no doubt,’ said Tabacher.

  Still Olexion said nothing.

  ‘Let’s wait for the Summoner outside. This lighting might be gentle on the forgotten, but its gloom isn’t comforting otherwise.’

  Later, standing outside one of the Temple’s great balconies, Olexion and the Grandmaster was approached by the Summoner girl. She was a petite woman, though she now looked like one fully aware of her powers and status. She was well dressed, her hair tended and a small satchel of supplies hanging from her left shoulder.

  She smiled as she neared, appearing much more coherent than before.

  ‘It is good to see you again Grandmaster,’ said the woman with genuine happiness, the smile and sunlight revealing the Summoner’s beauty.

  ‘As it is to see you,’ said Tabacher rather fondly. ‘Yarea, this is Captain Olexion, a Ranger new to our senior ranks. He will be your escort in your mission. Forgive him if he seems still a bit ignorant on the Summoner’s ways.’

  Yarea stuck out her hand in open friendliness and Olexion took it, his previous feelings of dismay in sudden conflict with what he was seeing now.

  ‘An honour to meet you my Lady…’

  This isn’t like the Fallen at all. Still…

  ‘Come then, let’s go the war room so that we may discuss your task,’ said Tabacher.

  Olexion returned to the present as he felt Elmira wake behind him.

  He had come a long way since then. He had indeed become First-Ranger and come to accept the accompanying burdens. Sometimes he still wondered if it was worth treating the Summoners like they did. Nonetheless it was a system that worked and it kept the populace safe, just like the Grandmaster said.

  ‘Where are we?’ asked Elmira groggily.

  ‘We are making good way my lady, thanks to your stoutness we did not have to stop much. We are already past the border and we are currently flying over the east side of Alparack’s veil,’ said Olexion.

  ‘Ha, I’m a bit tougher than you thought, eh?’ said Elmira.

  ‘Yes my lady, you have proven yourself to be a favourable travelling companion.’

  ‘Are we landing soon though? I’m hungry.’

  Olexion smiled. ‘We should find some outcroppings shortly and we’ll then rein in for the night,’ said Olexion.

  Guess she comes along all the way…

  Also their companion for the entire way, no matter how far they flew, were the moons, their presence growing as the light faded. Even before Bennam's murder Olexion had studied the skies with trepidation. Most men did not talk with any seriousness when talking of signs in the moons; they were supposedly a storyteller's tool and nothing more. Olexion thought about it little differently, at the very least entertaining the idea that some fool might grow a delusion of grandeur knowing that the skies demanded royal blood, and start a self-fulfilling prophecy if there ever was one.

  Many cycles of these moons passed by the Rangers' notice without too much worry, but projected now by the astrologers of Asheva were a series of formations that culminated with the most ominous of all permutations. They called this formation the Kingslayer, and predicated the demise of the King.

  Olexion could hardly be bothered to sleep outside of the King's door in paranoia; there were thousands of other men who could do just that. He would rather go looking for si
gns of trouble.

  Such a vague warning by the skies however had the left Olexion with no place to start, other than the already increased security around the Citadel in Asheva. That was until Bennam was murdered. The old Commander was important enough on his own to warrant Olexion's attention, but finding that King chess piece on his person had shook Olexion a little. Bennam himself led the fight against those who sought to dethrone the King all those years ago, and then also the Kingslayer formation had appeared. When the names inside that King piece had involved both very important Summoners and a Valkyrie, Olexion had become convinced he must go after this bizarre gathering of individuals. The Valkyrie at the very least would be able to shed some light on the Kingslayer moons and whether the formation would surface at all. Contrast to conventional logic, Olexion expected he would find a way to protect the King very far from the halls of Asheva, and more, he would only come to know what Bennam knew if he followed this trail laid out for them.

  They stopped for the night, always resting on the high places of the earth.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Elmira, noticing a look on the Ranger she thought she recognized quite well. The rest of the Rangers were busy preparing camp.

  ‘Of matters I cannot even discuss with my subordinates,’ said Olexion.

  ‘But you can discuss it with me I am sure?’ she teased.

  Olexion laughed off some of his seriousness. ‘I would not wish to worry anyone with it, least of all you. My charge is to think long into the future. I must have my mind on scenarios other men won't even consider. I know it sounds strange to be so concerned about things that might not even happen, but that is both my nature and a requirement of my profession.’

  Elmira chortled. ‘Wait until you meet Cid!’

  Chapter 36

  Dreams of a White Flame

  Vanapha shivered and descended into a familiar world. A terrifying place. She felt herself becoming short, her movements whimsical and clumsy. Her sights were gone, her mind blinded. The hallway had a giant red carpet running its length and the marble pillars joining floor and ceiling were immense. The opulence did nothing to sooth Vanapha.

  Here, at this point of time, she was just seven years old and she knew very well what was coming. The memory found no foothold while she was awake, so it came to her when she slept, over and over again. Trying to control the dream she ran as fast as her legs could carry her, determined to get out of the hallway and onto the balcony before anything bad could happen.

  But the hallway just never ended and as she stopped to look behind her the same set of guards, council members and pages were standing about despite her best efforts. She could not get away; she could never escape these faces. Most significantly she could see her father at the far side, locked in conversation with a man wearing a heavy robe.

  Suddenly she had the urge to tell her father something important, her fears forgotten for an instant as she honoured the events of the memory unintentionally. She started running to him, eager and innocent, and then came the light.

  Vanapha halted, her bliss already ruined. She looked down at her own chest; a bright white light coming from inside her, illuminating through her skin and clothes. It was blinding, and an eerie weightlessness made her feel as though her feet were leaving the floor, as though she was floating. The display quickly turned every head in the hallway, brows furrowed and mouths agape. For a few seconds Vanapha herself was ignorant, but then realized what was going to happen. She opened her mouth and shouted, trying to warn and halt approaching faces of concern, her words having no sound. Inevitably her old handmaiden, Sinta, was there first, rushing forward to help the child, her face the most concerned of all. Sinta barely reached up for the girl floating so ominously…

  A fierce energy surged from within Vanapha, something emptying itself from her chest. First the flash, and then the rippling tides. Sinta toppled instantly, gone forever. Vanapha could see the fire, appreciating herself as the epicentre, the flames as white as snow intermeshed and outlined by an oily blackness, furling across the entire room, sweeping and engulfing.

  In the few instances of chaos and destruction her eyes darted toward her father. She saw many things, but she distinctly remembered seeing a guard shoving her father behind a marble pillar, shielding him as the blaze hit the brave soldier right from his feet.

  There was a unison of outcries before utter silence. The white flame disappeared in an instant and Vanapha alone was left standing, no longer floating, the giant hall still rumbling with shock and wind.

  Only the inanimate were moving, ornaments slipping tentatively still from their places on the wall and paintings writhing as remnant flames ate away at the canvasses. The hallway was dressed in soot, the marble pillars frightfully stained with black. The floor was strewn with remains. The flame burnt everyone. Everyone was blackened and charred beyond recognition. Everyone was dead.

  Vanapha’s shocked mind seemed to have turned off her hearing and it returned to her only then. She heard the agony cries of a single man, coming from ahead. She ran forward, hoping to see her father. Behind the pillar her father was on his knees at the screaming soldier’s side, he himself yelling for aid.

  The soldier’s wounds were terrible, the pungent smell of his burned flesh still with Vanapha. With wide eyes her father looked at her, his gaze asking a hundred questions, his confusion and fear bringing tears to her eyes. The memory ebbed away after that, simply fading to the soldier’s terrible screams of pain.

  Everything changed after that day. She was sent away, to Rade’Remar. That life was left dead. She could never understand what had happened, nor did it happen ever again, anyone who could explain removed from her life.

  I became Valkyrie thereafter.

  Alex got a kick full in the face, the impact rocking him from his slumber. He cursed softly, already planning on how he was going to get revenge on Brunick despite him being a Stoneskin. This night they were sleeping in the canyon path, their chosen spot a small clearing among the rocks. Sitting upright and dazed, Alex realized that it was Vanapha lying in front him, her feet having been near his head.

  I can’t remember falling asleep this close to her.

  She was dreaming though, flailing and kicking, moaning as she sought to escape her nightmare. He sat closer, prepared to wake her; Vanapha’s hand reached out desperately and he caught it, holding it tight and still.

  She did not wake and suddenly, he did not want her to. He gentled his touch, caressing her hand with his fingers. It was easier looking at her now, her Sights and her proud bearing put aside. He knew it wasn’t appropriate, but right now, no matter how powerful a warrior she appeared to be, she was just a little girl.

  Alex could guess the nature of her distress, Cid having discussed his conversation with Vanapha with him and Brunick. She was haunted by a past memory and it was surfacing in her dreams, that much was obvious. She was however secretive about it and when Alex had asked her on it she simply shut him out.

  Looking at her now Alex could not think it was the same woman. With her hair loose and her slender figure curled on a cloak she did not look like the warrior Alex saw day by day. She continued to relax at Alex’s touch, he assuming the worst of the dream was over as well.

  He should then have let go of her hand, but he didn’t. She could wake up at any moment and then he would be at a loss to explain why he was touching her. Still he caressed, smiling as his fingers left the softness of her hands and feeling the harder film of calluses on her fingertips, a consequence he knew was the inevitable result of having fired thousands of arrows.

  Reluctantly he let go, setting her hand down slowly. Her dream had left her sweaty and the canyon wind was chilling her into a shiver. Alex removed the upper half of his sack and covered her with it. He watched her a moment more, only relenting as he saw her slow down into a soft breathing rhythm.

  He laid down, ready to continue where he had been interrupted. At least Alex was a soldier, and
soldiers welcomed sleep at any time they could. Sleep would come fast…

  By tomorrow Vanapha would be hard up again, appearing as a warrior elite in every aspect, ignorant that Alex had seen her like this.

  He closed his eyes and strained to identify her softening breathing among the night sounds, allowing it to lull him to slumber.

  Chapter 37

  Into the Mines

  Fafriv was a place of roads for those who could find it, a little bit of daring allowing one to tread its highs and lows, the winding ways not always going somewhere, herding its denizens into dead ends if not careful.

  Vanapha took point.

  The trail was skinny and high up against the canyon wall. They risked being spotted, but were only a bit more visible than traveling down below. In exchange it would take a compact and sure-footed enemy to pursue them, so there was some confidence in their path, even if Brunick didn’t much like it.

  ‘Better than treetops,’ he kept mumbling as his running boots occasionally kicked some loose rocks from the edge, making him nervous.

  It took a while but even as careful as Cid was he came to trust the Valkyrie’s almost precognitive instincts on where to go. Now in particular they followed her blindly, yet did so with merit and Cid could only wonder how useful she would have been in Alparack’s veil.

  I wouldn’t have lost all those men to start with…

  It was as if her eyes could bend around corners or rise up above her to peek at what laid ahead. It was limited though, as Cid himself had proven when he had successfully ambushed the Valkyrie. He did however concede that had Alex not fired at her she would most likely have realized Cid was stalking her from behind that day.

  During their talks Vanapha once proceeded to explain that Farsight and Insight were at the mercy of the same human flaw that concerned normal sensory functions; oversight.

  ‘Though someone like my sister, Claire, can see better than me; both in depth and clarity,’ Vanapha boasted.

  Their pace remained steady, guiding them lower again through the canyon branch by midday. Changing landscape settled all along the eastern cliff face, taking form of unnaturally carved indentations, as though someone had cut giant slabs from out the canyon body.