Ashener's Calling

by David Partelow

  Rhoneck turned away from his father’s gaze and toward the balcony. He wiped his face with his hand and his sleeve. Putting his hand over his mouth, he lost himself in thought for a few moments. He sighed heavily before placing a hand over his chest. A clenched fist rapped its frustration out upon his heart. He looked out into the night for long moments, silent and mournful. When he thought he could face Alderich again, he did. And in that instant father and son resembled eachother more than ever. “Then that is the way that it must be. It’s what you and mother want, and I have to respect that whether I choose to like it or not. I will say no more on this matter. If you would excuse me now, I have to prepare. Tomorrow will bring new trials for us all."

  Alderich nodded at his son as he departed. “Of course, Rhoneck,” he replied as he turned back to the view offered by the balcony. The look on his son’s face had torn daggers into his heart and his soul. It was a travesty that any father should have to make such a decision. It was not an easy determination, but it was the right one. Someday, somehow and in some way, I pray that you see that too, Rhoneck.

  Alderich was as proud of Rhoneck as he was of Norryn. His older boy had accomplished much in the last few years. To be where Rhoneck had reached was more than any father could ask. Rhoneck had impressed Hurler Rinstan from the beginning. With his cool reserve under pressure and his ability to give and to follow orders, Rhoneck had moved swiftly in the ranks. Whatever he accomplished, it was not because of his name. Rhoneck had earned his position through hard work, sweat, and grim, steadfast determination.

  This brought Bannar’s keeper to his dilemma. When he looked at his son Rhoneck, he saw the qualities that made for a leader of soldiers. Even so, he had also seen in his son Norryn the qualities that made for a leader of a nation. To this day, the boy still baffled his father with his insight and his compassion. Norryn could hear his people, perhaps even feel the pain they were unable to express with words. And he would do everything in his power to answer that pain.

  To make the waters deeper, Alderich knew that if something happened to him, people would flock to Norryn’s banner, despite his age. Everyone in town knew and loved Norryn, and he had no problem returning the sentiment. Alderich understood that his gifts would only increase with age. I could have appointed you as my successor by default, Rhoneck. But I know in my heart it would not have been the right choice. The people would have been against it as well, but not because they dislike you. It is because they love Norryn so much and trust their futures with him. If anyone could be the voice in Bannar and for all of Vallance, it is my youngest son.

  And with his decision always came guilt, for Alderich did indeed bear no ill will to his older son. However, he was deadly serious when he told Rhoneck that he reminded him of his dead brother. It was a reminder that haunted him often, reminding Alderich of the battles waged, and the ultimate price in blood that was paid for the peace and unification of Vallance. Had his brother Arylleus not been so bold, so set in his belief, then perhaps he would still be alive and not had made the decisions that cost him his life.

  Clearing his thoughts, Alderich was about to return to his rooms when something beckoned his eyes. He could not recall what it was, but a motion and an overwhelming urgency prompted him to look. He took another step toward the balcony, focusing his eyes to the distance. From what he could see there was nothing, save for the thought of an overactive imagination. He was about to leave again when the motion returned. Alderich had tried to shake it off as an overactive imagination, yet the cold feeling rising in his gut told him otherwise.

  His view of afar slowly cleared to dreadful clarity. From across the Lorne River shadows took shape to paint a grizzly picture. Through darkness and miles, he could see large machines settling themselves into the ground, obviously long-range artillery. Ahead of the artillery, Alderich began to see a swarm of dust clouds and motion. Soon the blurs in the distance became the incessant charge of thousands upon thousands of soldiers. They now ran ravenously toward Bannar in a death charge.

  The steady, painful, prevailing truth came to Alderich as the seconds passed. It was a masterful stroke, and he had fallen for it completely. The timing, conditions and circumstances were all perfect. Bannar was exposed, under-defended and ripe for the taking and someone had known that very well. This is the nightmare from which there is no escape in waking. How have they gotten this close so quickly? Time is short. I must sound the alarms!

  Alderich turned from the balcony and found his answer in the form of treachery. The entire town had been betrayed. Someone close to his heart had taken a dagger from the shadows and inserted it deep into his soul. That person stood in his way now with a pistol in hand and ice in his eyes. A cloak shrouded his face but Alderich knew those features anywhere. Surfacing in him now was the agony that someone he loved had sentenced Bannar to destruction. Alderich felt a lifetime of pain unravel within him in those seconds.

  Alderich could not keep the hurt from his features. Forcing his jaw to unclench, Alderich addressed the betrayer before him. “Now I have but one question to ask you. To your family, to your friends, and to your people, how could you have ever justified this assault?” His hands shook, but not out of fear. In him swelled the sensations of anguish and hurt, a feeling that drove him to anger. In all his days, he never would have seen this coming. His love had been the blindness that quenched all doubts.

  The hooded man trembled slightly. His body seethed with anticipation. His head began to shake slowly. “It’s not your place to understand. It is as it must be, nothing more and nothing less. I don’t expect you to understand that . . . father.”

  Alderich Ashener looked into the eyes of his son Rhoneck and saw an end to everything that he had fought and loved for in this world.

  {32}

  Clearing the gates of Bannar, Norryn and Serra witnessed the unfolding nightmare further take shape. Norryn sought to sound the alarms only to find the guards slain and the emergency systems destroyed. Norryn checked the fallen for life and found none, apparently killed without a struggle. Norryn believed that because of the ease of their passing, they had known their killers. A vile treachery had crept its way within the heart of Vallance and all Norryn’s fears were coming to fruition. All he could do now was hope he would have the chance to discover the traitors before it was too late.

  The streets of Bannar were blissfully at ease. Norryn knew it was all about to change. There was no possible way to warn the entire town. Nevertheless, he would not dwell on such knowledge. Norryn had to do what he could with what moments that remained, and so he took his friend by the shoulders. “Serra, listen to me please. There’s little time left. You must go and wake those you can. Scream as loud as your lungs let you. I must go and rouse Lancer and the remaining guard. We have precious few moments left. Get your parents. We must get the people of Bannar to safety. I will find you, as soon as I can. Go, now!” He urged Serra on and watched as she headed down the street.

  Without another thought, Norryn tore the other way with greater speed than before. He yelled as he went, and his voice rang clear from his throat. The town stirred as he headed toward its center. Houses and buildings blurred as he ran as hard as his legs and lungs would carry him. As people emerged from their homes, Norryn screamed for them to ready themselves and their families for an attack. He had no time for more than that. Two more blocks and he would be at the Cityguard. He began to call for Lancer Vanmorth and his men.

  Norryn took a quick moment to reclaim his breath before calling out again. “Lancer! Ready yourself! Thorne is upon us! We must evacuate Bannar! Lancer!” Very soon Norryn got his wish. Lancer came out armed with 10 of his men. Thank all hope that the man is always prepared!

  “Norryn Ashener! What in all hells? And what the bloody-devil are you doing here?” Lancer ran a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the lingering effects of a wild night. He towered over Norryn as he came close to the boy. He was armed with his sword, ready for anything.


  Norryn held up his hands, pleading for the man’s focus. “Lancer, there’s no time. Thorne is upon us! The guards on watch have been slain, and we are to be ambushed. We must ready the town at once!”

  “The bitch of a son!” spat Lancer. Norryn had never heard that curse used in that way, as usually it was the other way around. Still Lancer Vanmorth, leader of Bannar’s defenses, wasted no more time asking questions. He began barking orders immediately. Where Norryn’s voice fought to find purchase in the air, Lancer’s forced itself upon the winds like locusts on a growing field. “Bellaf! Ready yourself. Rouse the men! There’s work to be done.” He directed his attention to the other guards who had accompanied him out. “And you four, take a squad and work through town. I want to see your sleepy asses at the keep in 15 minutes. Go, now!” His orders were followed quickly and without question.

  Norryn watched and relished Lancer’s precision. His voice not only got the attention of his men, but more civilians were coming around as well. That just might save more lives tonight, thought Norryn. Out from the barracks came guard after guard, armed and ready for the worst. Norryn knew that every second they could get would help. Surely, it would not be enough, but it was something.

  Norryn’s attention was then diverted away from the barracks. Something in the air had shifted. There was a faint sound, growing stronger and closer by the second. Dread filled the young heir. “Lancer, get down!” Norryn took two steps toward Lancer and half-tackled, half tripped the large man. The pain in his shoulder was tremendous, but he succeeded in his attempt. Both he and the head guard tumbled to the street and not a second too soon.

  Three large, vehement bolts of destruction tore through the night and into the heart of the barracks. They met the roof with little opposition, chewing through to the life inside. A great explosion tore at the walls, sending fragments and soldiers bursting several feet in all directions. Superheated destruction and human remains blanketed the streets. Surviving guards dove for cover and civilians ran for their lives. Soldiers struggled to their feet under a cover of death and debris. There were still many more that had not reached the street before the barracks had exploded. In ten seconds, the fighters at hand were reduced to roughly half.

  Norryn cautiously lifted his head from the ground. He was scratched up a bit but other than a sore shoulder, he was unharmed. He pulled himself to his knees, looking about. Many were doing the same as he was, pulling together and checking for injury. Yet many were not as lucky as he had been. Norryn turned his attention to the red headed man next to him. “Lancer, are you okay? Lancer?”

  Lancer struck the ground in response. “Of all the low down, yellow hues of portly pig crap!” As he pulled himself from the ground Lancer continued with more less than savory oaths of revenge and pain. Brushing himself off, he looked over to find a wide-eyed eleven-year boy next to him. “You’ll have to pardon me, Norryn. My lips are a devil without regret. We’ve clearly been sold out. They know just where to hit us and they’re rammin’ it down our damn throats.” Lancer swiftly got back to his feet. “All right then, boys, we’ve got work to do. Pull your asses off the ground, cause if you think they’re done with us then just lay back down and take their mercies when they get here! You! Duric! Wipe that monkey’s whimper off your face and get up, son.” Lancer unceremoniously pulled the guardsman up by his shirt. “Now pick up that damn quadbow and show me you know how to use it. Move people, move, move, move!” At last his men gathered their resolve and continued.

  It came not a moment too soon as the skies east and west descended a rain of blue destruction. In a torrent of energy, a piercing barrage of violence crashed mercilessly into the town. Hunks of housing tore from its foundations, adding to the debris blanketing the streets. Civilians met death indiscriminately as they tried to find safety from the storm. More artillery shots found their marks in the surrounding buildings, ripping apart all that the people of Bannar had worked so hard to forge.

  Norryn took cover amidst a torrent of pure chaos. Everything that he had grown up to and loved was quickly falling apart. People he had just talked to earlier that day were dying horrid deaths. How could anyone do this? There isn’t any justification or any god that could condone such a thing. His hazel eyes were drawn over to Lancer as the large man motioned for him to follow.

  “Come, Norryn, we must get you to safety. Make haste, lad!” ordered Lancer.

  The young heir shook his head. “Your hands are full enough already, and there is much I have to do. Good luck, Lancer!” The boy was swiftly off then, faster than Lancer or any of his guards could catch.

  “Norryn! Get back here!” Curses, the boy is fast. Lancer Vanmorth watched him for a moment before returning to his duties in with the torrent of death. Good luck to you Norryn Ashener. I pray for you and your family. May we all see another sunrise. Lancer then lost himself in duty as he prepared for the fight of his life.

  {33}

  Brenn Ainsley busied himself with his daily rounds through Solace. Everything seemed in order as he walked the halls with hands clasped behind his back. The crews were fed, problems were handled, and most were asleep or on their way toward it. Tonight, Solace had been practically overflowing due to the festival, and it had kept Brenn and his workers extremely occupied. The hour was late, but he always made one more tour before calling it a night. First, I think I will say a goodnight to a special little someone. One of these days I might even get her to feel the same way about me.

  Brenn jerked his head back, letting his thin lazy hair escape from the view of his eyes. He walked down the dark corridor until it opened into a large room. Inside, the lighting was dim and meant to be relaxing to the people who occupied it. It seemed that the infirmary was always in full swing during the Grand Harvest. They housed many visitors and cared for the sick or injured. Brenn watched then, mesmerized as Ashelia Midoreah went about her rounds.

  Ashelia was painfully quiet and reserved, two traits that usually sent Brenn packing. However, there was something about her that always made him second-guess that assumption. Brenn did this now, watching her care for her patients and guests. One hand wiped the head under auburn hair as the other passed slowly over a sleeping boy. Brenn looked on as she checked for any changes in his condition. A nasty fall caused some internal injuries. Luckily, a Ro’Nihn in town assisted in internal psychic reconstruction. Brenn knew that Ashelia would be by his side until he was back in his parents’ arms. And while we are on the subject of arms, I certainly wouldn’t mind being in yours right now, Ashelia.

  Brenn walked silently to where she worked. About six feet from Ashelia, he stopped and folded his arms, content to observe a bit longer. Ashelia went about her duties, as if he was not there. Brenn knew she was aware of his presence. He studied her as she soothed the small child back to sleep. Ashelia was slender and pale, but there was something to her and her beauty that Brenn could not explain. And maybe it was the look that her stern, probing eyes bore as she halted any and all his advances. For some reason or another, he had always found that heavily appealing.

  Brenn’s devilishly handsome features flashed a cocky grin. “As busy as ever I see.” He watched her shoulders tense at the sound of his voice. Within seconds, she returned to covering her small patient with a blanket. He marveled at how her gentle face took on directness when at work or while attempting to avoid him.

  Soon Ashelia’s voice filled with traces of resolve as she spoke over her shoulder. “I am just doing my duties, Brenn Ainsley. And that is all that I will be doing on this night.”

  “And you do your job well.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “It’s Brenn. That’s what I would like you to call me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

  Brenn laughed to himself as she rose and headed out of the large room. He of course pursued her as she went, musing to himself in her wake. Her steps were deliberate now, and they seemed to quicken even more as she realized that she was being followed. Oh, she
is cute when she is agitated. I could really get used to this! Brenn continued his chase, almost singing to himself while in tow.

  They entered the supply room, and Ashelia began to take inventory of supplies. She made no acknowledgment of his existence as he leaned on the wall and watched her intently. Ashelia focused on the task, shutting off as much emotion as she could manage. Such a large shell for such a small, lovely person, Brenn mused. And she detests me to boot. I must be in love! “Is there anything that you or the hospital wing requires, Ashelia?”

  She shook her head over her shoulder, holding up a parchment. “Other than the few supplies on this list, nothing, sir.”

  “Then is there anything that I can do for you, Ashelia?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  His smile deepened. “Are you sure?”

  She finally turned her head and looked at him. Ashelia’s no-nonsense eyes bore back frankly into his own. “I am more than sure, Brenn Ainsley,” she replied coarsely. She turned and went about her business once again as her tone took on an edge. Brenn could live with that.

  Brenn assumed a serious look, though his eyes betrayed every inch of it. “I am hurt by your words, Ashelia. And I must know, what is it that you have against me these days?”

  Ashelia shrugged absently as she continued with her busy work. “These days are like any other day. I have nothing against you, sir. Nor do I have anything for you either.” She wrote down various numbers on a note. “What is it that you want of me anyway?”

  Brenn arched his head nonchalantly. “Very little I suppose, just a chance to get to know each other. I don’t think that you will find me that bad in the end.”