Ashener's Calling

by David Partelow

  “Or perhaps I will find you much worse in the end, sir.”

  He took steps closer to her. “Well I guess there is only one way for us to find out, wouldn’t you say?” He smiled as he closed the distance between them. Ashelia’s eyes met the floor as Brenn stood no more than a foot away from her. “Do you really think so badly of me?”

  Her eyes never left the ground. “No, but I know what you are capable of.”

  “Why, Ashelia, whatever do you mean?” His tone was playful and full of mock innocence. He smiled as she finally looked up at him.

  “I think you know exactly what I mean. I am not the first woman you have said such things to,” she stated firmly.

  “But hopefully you are the last I will ever say such things to.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Somehow I sincerely doubt that.” She then turned and went back to her duties.

  Brenn was grinning ear to ear now. Oh, I do love this woman! Things are really starting to cook now. He bowed to her in a not so humble defeat. “How you sting in your words, my dear! I shall reluctantly retreat until a more suitable and warmer reunion presents itself.”

  Ashelia continued folding sheets. “I knew that would be your answer, yet again.”

  Brenn Ainsley laughed to himself as he headed out of her office. He was just about gone when a boy caught his eye from the other end of the room. His long dark hair covered most of his reserved face, but Brenn recognized him easily. “Well if it isn’t Relphis, already done with his chores no less. How did the evening treat you?”

  The lanky boy rubbed at his forearms through his tunic nervously. “Um, no complaints, sir.”

  Brenn barked a laugh. “Nonsense, my boy! There are always complaints to be made! Bad food, long days, hard work, and cruel, cruel women!” He winked as Ashelia rolled her eyes. “But I must commend you for refraining. I know that no young man wants to miss any moment of the Grand Harvest. Are you on your way home now?”

  Relphis nodded. “Yes, sir. I am waiting for my uncle. He should be here soon I think.”

  A knock came from the hallway. “Anyone in there?”

  “See? Right on cue,” said Relphis smiling at the accuracy.

  Emerging from the shadows was Elnaar Fortis. A robust man, he wore his clothes proudly and a hale grin slashed across his face as he absorbed the contents of the room. His hair was gray, but his build only gave way to a slight gut and showed no signs of real aging in his 100 plus years. Giving greetings to Brenn and Ashelia, he turned his attention to Relphis. “And there you are, my boy. Have you been on your best behavior, put in a good day’s work?”

  The young lad nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, uncle, I did.”

  Brenn took up on the behalf of Relphis. “I can vouch for that one, Elnaar. Your nephew was a piece of work tonight. With the influx of people in town for the Harvest we sure could have used a few more like him.”

  Elnaar finished crossing the room to where Relphis stood. He ruffled the boy’s long hair before putting a strong hand on his shoulder. “Well that’s what I want to hear! I’ll have to keep bringing you. All this honest work is going to make a man out of you yet,” he said before turning to Brenn. “I just want to thank you for taking him on too. My nephew is rough around the edges, but he is going to be a good man, even if it kills me or him one day to get him there.”

  Brenn laughed and shook Elnaar’s hand. “I think he is on his way, Elnaar. See you next week, Relphis?”

  The boy’s tone was subdued as he lowered his head once more. “Yes, sir. I believe you will.”

  Elnaar gave Relphis a heavy pat on the back. “Well of course so, boy! It’s the best thing going for you, and it’s going to keep you out of trouble. Your dad told me of that fight you were in. He says you wouldn’t speak about your bruises, so I am guessing you lost just the same. Boys will be boys I suppose?” He winked to Brenn and Ashelia as he guided the blushing Relphis out of the room. “Thanks again, you two."

  Brenn waved farewell. “Take care, Elnaar, and have a good night.”

  “I most definitely plan to, that’s for certain!” He called out over his shoulder as he thrust an arm around Relphis. “And as for you, boy, we have much to talk about. But let’s get a late bite to eat while we do it. We’ve got to put some girth on you someday. If you get any skinnier you are going to look like Norryn Ashener!” Even Ashelia smiled as Relphis groaned in misery.

  Brenn watched them go. He admired the fact that Elnaar had taken his young nephew in as he had. It was clear to Brenn that the boy was just misguided. In fact, he was a damn good worker as far as Brenn was concerned. Maybe one day he would be a regular at Solace. I sure don’t have a problem with that notion. Now, where was I? He turned to face Ashelia once more as she busied herself with work. “Ah, alone again at last. The possibilities are endless.”

  “But the choices aren’t.”

  “Oh, touché my dear. Touché indeed.” He was about to come back with another round when a faint noise stopped him. It was high pitched, coming in faster and stronger, and instantly it surfaced his soldier instincts. “Ashelia, down!”

  Brenn Ainsley lunged over a bed and pushed her to the floor with his arm. Not a moment later, an explosion ripped from the corridor that Elnaar and Relphis had just left. Soon others came from the opposite direction. Brenn cleared the cobwebs in his head to find that he and Ashelia were still among the living. He went to check on her. “Ashelia, are you all right?” He tried to help her to her feet.

  She brushed his hand off, frustrated and shaken up at the same time. “Fine. I’m fine. But the patients!” She ran down the hallway with haste. Before following her, Brenn checked the exit. He found no trace of Elnaar or Relphis save for some fragments of their clothing and charred blood on what was left of the walls. He clenched his fists for a moment, shaking his head. That is no way for you to have died. What in all hells is going on?

  His thoughts were distracted by a muffled scream behind him. He ran to find the source of it. At the end of the hallway he found Ashelia. She was on her knees looking into a smoking room of death. Brenn surveyed the small hospital ward. He had seen enough battles in his day to know there was no chance for survivors in such a barrage of destruction. Brenn had hoped for a moan or a plea, any sign of life in fact. Yet only silence and the licking of flames met his ears.

  His anguish was pulled from him as he realized the severity of the situation. Bannar is under attack. It sounds like artillery is tearing us to pieces. Has Thorne finally made the first move? And if so, how in the devil did they make it here? He reached down, putting his hands underneath Ashelia’s arms and slowly bringing her to her feet. “There is nothing that we can do here other than see to the other survivors. This place is no longer safe.” He took her by the arm, leading her through fire and ash to what he hoped would be safety.

  She stammered in his wake. “Brenn, who would do such a thing? There were children in there. Children!”

  Brenn Ainsley squeezed her hand tightly as he continued forward. “I don’t know, Ashelia, but I am sure not going to stand here to wait and see. More are dying as we speak. Let us go do what we can and hope we survive the night.”

  {34}

  Norryn made his way through the streets toward Bannar’s Gate. Destruction lay in his way like dead leaves from an autumn’s cry. Had it not been for the dancing bolts of energy or the urgency of his steps, the surrounding pain and grief would have likely overwhelmed him. There is no time for my grief now. Too many more lives are at stake. We must get the survivors to safety. That is all that matters now, thought Norryn as he pressed on with great speed into the night.

  Nearing home, he noticed that the artillery blasts began to taper off. Soon they had stopped all together. Once again, the night neared silence, with merely the flames and drowning pleas of anguish to fill the void. Silent cannons can only mean their own soldiers will soon be upon us. Norryn pushed on through huddled masses and complete disarray. Each step tore a little more from his heart, but
he would not let that take him from his task.

  Norryn’s ears were soon filled with the thunder of countless boot heels. From the sound there must have been hundreds, even thousands amassing at the walls. He had no doubts that the town was surrounded. He took at least some comfort in knowing there were other ways out of Bannar. He noticed motion on his path. From down the street came Azhan Glansayer and a good portion of his private guard.

  Azhan nodded relief upon seeing the young boy safe. He made haste down the street. As he did, sandy colored robes blew in the wind, revealing beautiful sections of ornate armor. The leader of Nadaar put a strong hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Norryn Ashener, by the gods you are safe.” He looked left and right with a predator’s gaze. “Their soldiers will be here in moments. You must go inside. We will fight to whatever ability we possess. Go now, please.”

  With those words, Azhan drew from his scabbard a fierce double-bladed sword. Crafted from the finest wood, tempered so that it was as sharp and strong as any steel, Norryn knew it had seen the Nadarr warrior through much conflict with great success. In one quick motion Azhan twisted it at the handle, and the blade split into two equal parts. Neither one appeared any less deadly for the separation. Without another word, he and his men headed toward the center of the town.

  However, Norryn stepped in their way, hands outstretched from his sides. “You cannot do this, Azhan,” said the young man, challenging the fierce gaze that met him. He could see Azhan’s hands tightening on his weapons as he longed to join the battle.

  Azhan shook his head, his pride revealed the intensity of his voice. “No, Norryn Ashener, I must. We have a duty to Nadarr and to Vallance. We will fight to the death if death is the fate before us.” He made to walk around the young boy, but Norryn corrected himself and made the steps to keep the route blocked.

  Norryn held his ground. “No, your death will benefit none of us. You must stay. Your life cannot be forfeited. For Vallance and Nadarr, you have to go back! Your strength will be crucial in the days to come. Please, you must understand this, Azhan. For your own sake and for all our sakes, you must trust me now!”

  The proud warrior balked at the prospect of retreat. “And what would you have me do, young Ashener, have my men stay here like caged dogs as the walls around us are burned to cinders? You cannot ask such a thing of me! If I am to die this night, it shall be in battle. Now please, on my people and my honor, stand aside.”

  Norryn shook his head defiantly, stopping Azhan with the intensity that was passed to him from his father. “Azhan, please listen. There are other ways out of Bannar.” He reached over, grasping a handful of the warrior’s robes. “We are surrounded. The known exits are covered, but there are others. Below the streets are tunnels and one of the entrances is under Bannar’s Gate. You must find my mother now and lead those you can through these tunnels. She knows the way. It is the only chance to save the Vallance Council. It is imperative and must be done, Azhan! There is more here than honor at stake. For your people and our country, you cannot die. There can be no victory on this night, only survival.”

  The two stared at each other for a tense moment. The sound of soldiers marching only grew stronger with each second. The leader of Nadarr thought about the boy's words. Clenching his jaw, he finally conceded. “Very well, Norryn Ashener. If that is your wish, then I must comply.” He looked to the men in his tow. “We return to the keep. You two, find Enora Ashener. The rest of you, with me!” He looked back to Norryn. “Come then, we will take you with us to safety.”

  Norryn shook his head and turned. “I will be there soon. There is something I must do. Until we meet again, Azhan.” With that the boy sprinted off.

  “Norryn! Norryn!” Azhan went to pursue. He did not go far before realizing that there was no way he could catch the boy. Cursing Norryn’s speed and his inability to match it, he turned back toward the doors of Bannar’s Gate. There was still much to be done and very little time to accomplish it in.

  {35}

  From the remains of his parent’s bedroom, Willeth Rishant watched the unfolding carnage in the streets below. He had been asleep when the mayhem had started. Willeth’s home had been one of many struck in the initial attack. Unlike his mother and father, he had survived the onslaught. When the rumbling explosion had torn him from sleep, Willeth had run screaming for them. All that he found was debris, blood and the open sky before him where his parents had once slept.

  Willeth knew that he wanted to cry, but no tears found their way to his eyes. A part of him held to the notion that this was just a dream, that it had to be a dream. However, everything from the warmth under his toes and the charred smell in his nostrils told him otherwise. He took steps closer to the ledge and looked down below. The young boy saw many houses and families that shared the same nightmare he was currently trapped within.

  Despite his pleas, no such waking relief came to Willeth. He continued to look on, his attention brought to focus by screaming down below. People were running frantic as far as he could see. Soon blue bolts of energy spat in every direction, cutting down those that tried to flee. Shaking uncontrollably, Willeth followed the paths until his eyes found the source of his world’s sudden chaos. Hundreds of marching soldiers entered his view. Willeth had never seen anything like them before. Garbed in unfamiliar gear and armed to the teeth, they flooded in like a stream of armored ants.

  Willeth watched as men with rifles set up around houses as others with large spears entered them one at a time. As they did so, he heard the final screams of those that had not escaped. Once finished with their horrible task, the soldiers pressed on to the next house in the same fashion. Before him, the only mercy offered in the streets was a swift death.

  Willeth saw a great number of things from his perch. The town guard desperately waged a valiant defense against the attackers. With swords, shields, and quadbows they struck back, helping frantic survivors to safety. It was the first time Willeth had seen soldiers of Thorne. To Willeth, they appeared slow and clumsily clad in bulky, restrictive armor. Even so, what they lacked in prowess they most definitely made up for in numbers. He watched as the town’s guard struck down their opposition before being cut down in a hail of laser fire. He was amazed by his town’s bravery, but equally horrified as they were steadily overwhelmed.

  Willeth was soon numb as the sounds and sights mixed together as his eyes lost focus. Willeth’s mind fought with his body, striving to separate what must be real to what had to be a dream. These thoughts overwhelmed him so greatly that he remained oblivious to the soldiers who had taken notice of him. He was still in a daze as they formed up and took aim.

  In an instant, Willeth was brought back to the grim reality at hand. Piercing, blue bolts lanced through his body, sending a shiver of pain and confusion through him. Willeth looked down, eyes wide, and instantly he knew his life was at an end. He could not talk. He could not breathe. His knees then met the floor, and soon his body followed.

  Willeth’s last thoughts screamed for him to break from the nightmare. The soldiers who had fired turned to continue their assault at the same time Willeth gasped for his final breath. As everything became a starry haze of tranquility, Willeth finally accepted that he was not in a dream. He was about to enter a long sleep from which he would never, ever wake again.

  {36}

  Lieutenant Trennon Raymses watched with cold eyes as a young boy dropped to his death.

  The seconds had gone by slowly. The kid had never seen it coming. His face had seemed lost, hazy. Maybe he had thought what he was seeing was just one hell of a dream. Maybe he had been asking his gods to wake him from it. The boy fell in a heap, wide-eyed and lost for all time. He must have been no more than 12 or 13. Now he was just another carcass for the vultures and fire.

  Trennon shook his head grimly, jaw setting at the further atrocities in his view. This is no dream, no, sir. It isn’t even a battle. No, this is just a goddamn slaughter in all my books.

  The young boy’s
death had not been by his hand, nor had it been by the rifles of his men. Trennon took his eyes from the ruined home to look at the death dealers. I should have guessed. It's Mueler and his men. He would be one to take pride in such a thing, the slimy rat bastard.

  Lieutenant Raymses watched the group with cold detachment. To his side, his men stood at the ready. His medic attended to one of his own who was carrying a nasty wound across his arm. Their soldiers are good, damn good in fact. Outnumbered, but damn good just the same. But they’re not the monsters we were trained to kill. Even if they had been, their women and children do not merit this kind of punishment.

  Trennon watched Mueler congratulate his men while already searching for the next target. Trennon shook his head in disgust. He heard the metal of his right-hand clench tightly as if from far away. His usually sandy hair had become gray from the accumulating ash and soot. Mueler realized then that Trennon was not following his men’s example. With rising contempt, he approached with his squad in tow.

  Trennon had never liked the man from the start. Short and stout, he reminded Trennon of a teapot from a distant child’s song. He couldn’t remember all the words, only that the lyrics tickled at his mind when Mueler was present. He was even less of a soldier than he was a man in Trennon’s eye. Trennon thanked the heavens that men like Mueler weren’t promoted on sheer brown-nosing ability alone.

  Trennon Raymses could see Lieutenant Mueler’s sneer even through his beard as he approached. The rest of the man’s face was red and livid. Trennon watched him casually, scratching at the skin above his forehead. He thought he would never get used to the new part of his face. Trennon could still remember when every bit of his mug was his own. Now, below his hairline, sleek metal replaced what was once flesh. The augmentation spanned almost the entire right side of his face. In many ways, his conversion gave him similarities to Janzen Wollace, a man Trennon would gladly kill with his bare hands to rid the world of a hellish evil.