Mourning Ember

by Odin Oxthorn

  “Unfortunately.” She released a sigh. “Would you please find someone to entertain them? I can’t handle the invasive curiosity. And keep them out of trouble. The Council doesn’t need to know of their existence.”

  “I’m sure I can find someone appropriate.” Loremaster folded their arms, watching her intently. Her mentor’s presence derailed her thoughts, the scrutiny sending her skin crawling. She couldn’t help but feel disdain. His lack of action upon the crumbling council had sealed the tensions, and she was expected to clean it up. It simply wasn’t fair, but she could read the signs. This was a long time coming.

  “The Council isn’t going to listen to me.” Nara scowled. “How do you expect this to turn out?”

  “There is one thing that will force them to at least hear your words,” Loremaster softly suggested.

  She snapped her gaze up, her lip curled into a snarl. “That solution is much more permanent than what we had agreed upon.”

  He raised his hands defensively. “You can always step down later.”

  “No one in recorded history has ever stepped down.” Nara leaned on a hand. “And you know it.”

  Loremaster hefted a shrug. “Recorded history is also riddled with firsts. Many of which you have personally chiseled into their volumes.”

  She inhaled a deep drought of bitter air as she considered his words. Her mentor’s constant interference in her position had always baffled her, and what irritated her most was his insistence that it was always a choice. “You sound so certain.”

  “If I were certain about everything I believed, I would not have withdrawn from the Council.”

  “I’m surprised Bellanar isn’t behind you, trying to force my decision.” Nara scoffed. The squirrelly man was a major part of why she’d ended up home. Their persistent hunt through the grimy jungles of Undercity was almost amusing to her, though she could not fathom being enough to convince her to entertain their pleas.

  “They’re in jail,” Loremaster revealed.

  She blinked in astonishment. “What?”

  “After I returned, they went immediately back out. No idea why.” They rubbed their chin pensively. “Either way, their luck apparently ran out and whoever they relied on stopped covering for them.”

  “Wonderful.” Nara scrubbed her face. Another problem to resolve.

  “Your former commanding officer has been asking about you,” Loremaster pointed out. “I think you should talk to them about Bellanar’s predicament.”

  “I see.” Silence had settled in the room, but words continued to flow through the air. Loremaster’s enigmatic proclamations danced around her mind, slinging mud over the puzzle she was bestowed. Their neutrality on the subject was a formidable front to another motivation quietly biding its time. Weariness shadowed her mentor’s form, but patience forced it still.

  “I see that you are busy. I just wanted to see how you were doing and perhaps welcome you back,” Loremaster said. “Stop by the capital archives when you are ready. I’m sure I can fill you in on a summarized report of current events and save you the trouble of navigating through the insurmountable archives.”

  “I am sure of it.” Nara glanced through the screen, boring a hole into the wall across from her.

  Loremaster paused as he turned away, leaning a hand on the doorframe. “Your instincts are sharp. You should rely on them more often. Probability will only get you so far.”

  Where have I heard that one before? Nara scowled.

  Chapter 2

  ##2.0##

  Gentle echoes of casual banter bounced around the dimly lit blackened walls of the capital’s conference hall. The ambience was devoid of the glimmer of the publicized broadcasting systems, mandated to be switched offline due to concerns of global security. A ring of balconies bordered the arena, overlooking the barren floor of the orator’s pit. The rows of seating were divided into a trio of segments, each sparsely occupied by the remnants of the active representatives of the world council, those who cared about procedure after the dissension.

  To the east sat the Council of the Future, the diplomats of science that maintained the guidelines on research and production. And to the west the Council of the Present, composed of the most influential warlords from each of the thirteen clans, in addition to their key subordinates.

  Silence radiated from the North, which had once held the voice of the Council of the Past, Loremaster’s official seating, along with a selection of chief scribes and their assistants. It was now deserted, save for one tenacious constituent.

  Bellanar fretted with the creases in his clothing, having had to rush to make it to the meeting on time. He poked through his reports, quietly talking through his arguments in preparation for the inevitable questioning.

  “Before we proceed,” the Head Councilor of Science, the acting moderator, ordered the host of voices to a hush. “Does anyone have issues to be immediately addressed?”

  “Oh, yes,” Bellanar began, eagerly raising his hand. “I do. I—”

  “What are you doing here?” The councilor narrowed their eyes at the disruption.

  “Oh, well, I was promptly, and thoroughly, reprimanded for my misconduct and then dismissed,” Bellanar affirmed with a nervous nod.

  “Who authorized k’vai’s dismissal?” The councilor scoured the room.

  “I did.” A voice from the Present piped in. An aged warlord stood to address the crowd, their menacing posture softened by the dash of whimsy tracing over their creased features. “It’s not fair to be waiting for so long to try them. I had nothing better to do, anyway.”

  “Warlord Jav’ril, k’vai is not in your clan, much less your jurisdiction.”

  “No, they are under mine.” The silence from the Past crackled apart as a hologram burst through the darkness, projecting Nara’s rigid crossed arms and disapproving glare. A tumult of murmuring washed over the stadium, questioning whispers seeking an explanation for the unscheduled interruption.

  “On the subject of jurisdiction,” she continued, her scowl deepening, “K’vai is a citizen of the Past that stole Future property. Can anyone please explain to me why they were taken to a Present detention center?”

  “Citizen, your status in this convention is clear,” The Councilor of Science challenged. “You have been stripped of your title. You have no voice here.”

  “Wrong.” A strobe of documentation assaulted the assembly, slowly sliding across the screen to await the Council’s examination. Words drifted past the central hoverscreen, moving down to the signature lines, marked by Loremaster and witnessed by a handful of the chief scribes, dated only a few hours ago. Her own mark smoldered beneath, a resentful flourish that slashed through the lines. “I am the Scion of Lore. And no one but Loremaster themself may revoke this title.”

  Bitterness and anger forced the words from Nara’s throat, causing the declaration to resonate in sharp notes across the chamber. Her fists clenched as she adjusted her stance, her unyielding posture firm. The chatter in the room amplified, disquieted uncertainty foaming through the air.

  “K’vai’s actions impact the entire world. We had more pressing—”

  “I’m not interested in the excuses,” Nara cut the councilor off. “Nor am I surprised that you disregarded regulations. Regardless of the situation, Loremaster should have been contacted.”

  “There were other matters to attend to.”

  Nara drafted a message via subliminal NetCom to the ear of the anxious ally looking up at her.

  >> Bellanar, you are excused.

  >> But I have something vitally important to discuss about security…

  >> And I think you should be *very* careful who you discuss that with. I will meet with you later. Leave.

  >> Yes, Savant, my mistake. Welcome back.

  >> Do not test my patience, Scribe.

  >> Wouldn’t dream of it.

  Bellanar bashfully smiled at the projection, offering a placating bow before backing from the stage.

  “
Then consider this matter attended to,” Nara hissed.

  “I object to this movement.” A warlord stood up, a figure she did not recognize. “It is not appropriate to elect one who has been tried as a criminal, and of questionable motivation, to a position of such importance.”

  “I concur.” Another snapped to their feet to join the discussion. “Establishing contact with the Separatists has been difficult, and this action requires delicacy. Given your history with their leader, I do not think you have the world’s best interests in mind.”

  The room murmured in agreement, the noises battering her brain. A swirl of dizziness began to tug at her senses as the accusations flogged her memory. She shifted her stance, beating back the sensation as she honed the daggers sliding up the inside of her throat.

  “The Present agrees. This citizen’s presence is a detriment to productivity if we are aiming for a peaceful resolution.”

  “I don’t recall my opinion being asked.” Jav’ril raised a finger matter-of-factly.

  “Considering your previous affiliation with this Citizen, your biases may be too considerable to weigh in.”

  “What sharp nonsense you’re stabbing me with.” Jav’ril snorted. “Savant has not been under my command in over sixty years. And even so, they were hardly in my ranks for any significant time before they advanced beyond my jurisdiction.”

  “And you were solely responsible for that advancement,” another countered. “This also does not explain why they have returned unannounced after having vanished for thirty years.”

  “VANISHED?” Her bellow cut the quarrel in half, rippling through the chamber. Pangs began to shatter through her fists as her skin flooded with fire, her muscles twitching against her bones. Vanished.

  But she could read the blank pages over their faces. She had been Unwritten, pushed out of the eye of the public. Never to be mentioned again. Even if someone desired to search for the answers, they were unavailable, the only shreds of the occurrence under Loremaster’s lock and key.

  “Your opinions are noted, Councilors.” Nara unhinged her jaw, forcing a stillness inside her searing throat. “Take it up with Loremaster, but as the records stand, I am the one who shall preside over this matter.”

  “While your position remains to be verified,” the Councilor of Science interjected, “there is no time to brief you on the current situation.”

  “Half of the Present has split and have made encampments in the gaming arenas.” She reduced the potency of the venom through her words. “The majority of the Future is currently drydocked in space, while the scant few who remain on the planet are deciding what to do with the ships. Everyone has decided to ignore Loremaster, so the Past has never been present in negotiations. Have I got it all?”

  She paused, finding it increasingly difficult to stand still. She cracked through the kinks in her neck as the storm inside her brain magnified. Nausea played with her senses, creating a discordant rhythm with the dizziness hammering at her balance. Keep it together.

  The audience discussed her observations in hushed tones, voices hesitating as they processed the summary of current affairs. But she was not finished, their conclusions inconsequential.

  “The Present wants their claims on the new fleet, but the Future is not forthcoming on this due to the conflict with the Separatists. No successful contact attempts have been made to the estranged parties, and no one has any idea what their agenda entails.” She paused to take a step, widening her stance to refrain from the temptation to lean. “In addition, many fields of the Future have no interest in negotiating with the Present, namely the Engineering and Materials Development factions, and they desire to leave Homeworld to explore their own motives elsewhere. So, enlighten me. What has been done to resolve this pervasive conflict?”

  “Given the track record of the Separatist leader’s performance on duty,” a warlord explained, “many are unwilling to be proactive in the situation for fear of antagonizing them.”

  “And the longer you wait, the more devastating their actions will be,” she pointed out.

  “We have considered that as well, yes,” the officer retorted.

  “Have you, now?”

  “Councilors,” the Future representative interrupted, “I recommend an extended recess to process the information put before us and perhaps assess our emotions on the matter.”

  The assembly rumbled in agreement, not wanting to discuss their matters in the presence of the new arrival.

  “Fine.” Nara released the air from her nose. “But I cannot guarantee I will not continue to seek solutions myself.”

  “Your work is your prerogative, Savant.” The hesitant acceptance of her new title laced the councilor’s tone with resentment.

  The tension weighed heavily over the arena as the congregation slowly departed, uneasy hushed whispers drowned out by the fluttering and shifting of moving bodies. Nara met each of the cautious glances in her direction, making sure they knew she was aware of them.

  When the air cleared of the noxious atmosphere, she typed out another summons.

  >> Jav’ril, a moment of your time, please.

  >> Of course, anything.

  ##2.1##

  The projection of Warlord Jav’ril manifested in Nara’s office, a warm smile radiating across their features.

  Considered somewhat of an eccentric amid the governing warlords, Jav’ril was brimming with eternal patience. They governed with an informal, almost familial bond with their subordinate units, which was most likely why Nara was commissioned to serve beneath them, having no relatives to speak for her.

  Jav’ril could never comprehend why it was standard procedure to take every little detail so seriously, preferring to give everyone beneath their command the benefit of the doubt. Failure was just a learning process, and consequence was part of life. The sooner one accepted this, the easier it was to make educated decisions.

  “You are right in front of me and I still don’t believe it.” They tilted their head, creases tracing around their concerned frown. “What a dark aura you cast.”

  Nara ignored the comment. “Thank you for releasing k’vai.”

  “It was hardly any trouble, despite the Council’s opinion of me.”

  “And what is that?”

  “While I haven’t been outright removed from the World Council” —Jav’ril rolled on the back of their heels— “my opinions are taken with a heavy dose of skepticism, given that I am responsible for the rise of two of the largest troublemakers on the planet.”

  “Can I trust you?” Her stern glare emphasized the punch of the blunt questioning.

  “Always so solemn.” They chuckled. “I had faith in you when you were a recruit, and I have faith in you now.”

  “That was not a direct answer to my question.”

  Jav’ril’s smile widened, accepting the tone of her warning. “Yes, you can.”

  Nara paused to examine their presentation, picking through the subtleties of language beneath their jovial appearance. They were earnest enough, having no apparent gain in any of this chaos. But they were the only common figure between the old and new regimes. And the only one who could cause her the most harm.

  “What is your position on this matter?” she prodded.

  “We have now established a considerable presence in space.” The warlord shrugged. “We need to take responsibility and ensure we get along with our neighbors who have been knocking on our door for quite some time.”

  “So, you would be in favor of aligning with GaPFed?” Nara tilted her head inquisitively.

  “I didn’t say that.” Jav’ril firmly shook their head. “We should play nice with the other kids in the playground but also make sure we don’t allow bullies to establish the rules.”

  “I see.” She paused to consider their words. While she’d never understood their worldview, she appreciated how little they expected of her, letting her express her thoughts and opinions openly, never agreeing nor disagreeing with her conclusions
. They were a just commander, and she wished more would see from their perspective.

  The warlord’s face suddenly shifted. Their smile faded to a remorseful frown. “Would you like to hear about the trial?”

  Jav’ril’s softened voice struck the nerves in her chest. They were a direct witness to her treatment, the chains, and the drugs. They were there when she was cast aside for Xannat to play with, the witness to the conclusion of her behavior. Vanished.

  “No.” Her jaw clenched tight as her fragmented recollection teased at the edges of her mind.

  “As you wish.” They bowed their head. “You know where to find me should you change your mind.”

  “Sure.” Words were becoming difficult to process, her thoughts distracted by the winding trails of suspicion and remorse.

  “I will bid you a good evening. And please, take care of yourself. Many look up to you.” Their projection evaporated from the office floor.

  Upon hearing the wish, Nara collapsed into her chair, nerves rattling across every inch of her body. She forced her eyes shut, attempting to regain control of her breath and steady the waves of nausea coursing through her guts. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she snatched a half-empty carton of liquor, replacing the bile in her throat with the scalding concoction. She fought with her shaking fingers as she pushed it toward the increasing collection on her desk.

  Get a fucking grip on yourself, she scolded, dragging her nails through the tangles of her hair.

  “Hey.” A voice broke through her smoldering as Garrett poked his head into the doorway. “Can I help?”

  She wasn’t surprised the human could detect her agitation. She must be radiating miles away. How could she even begin to compress the situation small enough so that he could provide input? She couldn’t. Not now.

  She would solve her problems the only way she knew how—by ignoring them.

  “Congratulations. I am granting you diplomatic immunity.” She stood up from her seat, cracking the pressure out of her joints. “Which doesn’t mean much. They will ignore you regardless, but they will at least attempt to contact me before throwing you in jail for poking around where you shouldn’t."