Vonack let out an exasperated breath. “What now?”
Rynsik cast him an impatient glare. “I said we’ve got work to do. I want everyone ready to ride out in three minutes.” Rynsik’s voice revealed his impatience to the Bannar native.
“What’s your deal, man? You just can’t handle us having fun, is that it?” Vonack continued with his disapproval of Rynsik and his ways.
Reaching his cycle, Rynsik offered another look in Vonack’s direction. “No. What I can’t deal with are stupid questions from those that have nothing better to do. I believe I said we have work to do.” Rynsik looked at those around him. “We move now and with a purpose. Four miles from here is a convoy on its way to Wayvred. We must join up with that convoy now.”
“And when did you get so worried about a convoy anyway?”
Rynsik looked solidly at Vonack. “The moment that it became a target for an ambush.”
“What?” said Serra.
“How soon before they are hit?” Jozlyn asked this over her shoulder as she readied her horse.
Rynsik grabbed his own pack. “Sooner than we would want. I don’t know when they will strike, but I’ve seen their scouts. I’m sure they are just keeping tabs until they reach the striking point. The only certainty is that it’s coming and from experience, they are not going to take prisoners.”
Esmie grabbed her sais before heading to her hovercycle. “What are we going to do?”
Rynsik snapped his fingers to alert Bryndan to jump up on the back of his cycle. Quickly, the ferret rushed up and allowed itself to be covered. Rynsik then turned to Esmie and the others. Somehow, they could all now feel the moment rising. “Quite simply, we will do anything and everything we can.” Rynsik then gunned his cycle, surging forth with great speed. Serra and the others soon followed.
-21-
Now at a crossroad, Shan Fellar lost himself within the great debate that tangled his thoughts. Taking another pull from his beer, he rubbed at the pain in his legs. No longer sharing the road with Jozlyn and with no home to return to, he now faced a future clouded in uncertainty. The young gunslinger had been correct. The man he was now differed greatly than the idealistic soldier he used to be. The husk that still drew breath was easy to forget when washed down in a cloud of booze. His friend’s words had indeed brought on a momentary sobriety to his soul.
Shan had started off furious of course. The turbulence was not aimed at Jozlyn, but at the truth of her words, a truth Shan had been denying since the fall of Bannar. There were very few nights that he did not wish he had been killed along with his comrades on the plains. However, he had been afforded no such mercy. Jozlyn had found him and nursed him to health. So Shan lived on, with the alcohol keeping him numb enough to live on the droll of a meaningless existence. He realized now it was the lack of courage to face his life, or what was left of it that stung deeper than any liquor could touch.
And yet today was different somehow. For the past hour Shan had been sporting the same beer. Something about being within the region of Axiter altered his mood and priorities. For the first time in long years, Shan felt encouraged to hope. It started with Jozlyn’s departure and her words to him. Shan had stormed off in a huff in search of the pub. Yet as he walked, Shan’s anger quickly dissolved as he witnessed the wonderful people and atmosphere that made up the town. At first Shan had even fought that, but in the end, it was no use. Axiter held a captivation that would not be denied. And presently it was Axiter that brought him to his current crossroad.
The final contents of his mug traveled down his throat, echoing in his stomach. The barkeep checked on him, but Shan waved him away. Tonight, the only drunkenness would be his thoughts. He could not remember the last time he’d been this sober or held such mental clarity. And it was focus that he desired as he rubbed at the abrasive stubbing resting on his face. He chose beer because it took the edge off his desire for liquor but was not enough to muddy his thought process.
It was not long before a full mug of ale slid down the bar and into his surprised hand. He looked at the foamy temptation for a moment before turning to the sender. The Ro'Nihn who made his acquaintance when he entered the pub nodded in his direction. Shan surmised her beauty through the masked obscurity. “You look deep enough in thought to need that,” she said casually.
Shan held up the mug in salute before drinking, “You have my thanks,” he replied. Taking a moment to collect himself, he decided to keep this conversation going. “This is a great place you all have here.”
“It’s just a glorified tent with booze, but it’s our watering hole, nonetheless.”
Shan chuckled at the reply. “No, I meant your town. I really like it here in Axiter. For the first time in a long time, I feel . . . at ease.”
“Glad to hear it,” said the female Ro’Nihn, holding her own drink up to him. Taking a powerful pull, she continued. “So, what are your intentions now, Shan Fellar? Will you be leaving Axiter soon?”
Shan mulled over the question a moment before responding. “Well I have been giving it a lot of thought. For the first time in ages, I have looked back on the last five or so years of my life. My choices. My regrets. Where I am and where I want to be right now. I’m not happy and I haven’t been so in ages, but I am also damn tired of trying to drown something that will never fully go away. I know I need something, and something I really need is. . .” Shan trailed off.
“I know exactly what it is you seek. Redemption.”
Shan’s eyes lit up. “Yes!” He took another drink to moisten his mouth. “You nailed it on the head there.” He realized then it was the one thing he wanted most in the world.
The Ro’Nihn turned in her stool and faced Shan fully. Her voice, while deprived of much emotion, still held a conviction that demanded to be heard. “The road to redemption is a long one, Shan Fellar. But to begin it is you who must take the first steps. How do you mean to see this through?”
Shan sighed in resignation. “This place is as good as any for it, if not better. I think it might very well be everything I need. Tomorrow I intend on going to Wyndall and request to stay. I see you Ro’Nihn and I tell myself, this is where I need to be. These people know their path and follow it without the fears and regrets that torment me. More than anything else in the world that is what I want.”
His company smiled sincerely at this. “It makes me happy to hear you say this, Shan Fellar. That is something we would be glad to help you with. It takes no Axiter bloodline to be a Ro’Nihn, only the courage and will to do what is right, against all odds. If you can strive for that, then I think there is hope for you yet.”
Instantly, Shan knew his mind was made up. The thought had originally been a kindling spark, yet now was a roaring flame. “I have made up my mind. If Wyndall of the Jacoi clans will have me, then I will not rest until I too can call myself a defender of my country once more. I have no family and few friends, nothing to lose and everything to gain.” Shan exhaled contentedly, for a load was suddenly lifted from his shoulders.
“Then drink up, Shan Fellar, for I am sure tomorrow’s road shall be a difficult one. You should spend this night bidding farewell to your past. Your path will have reward, but it shall also be arduous as well.”
“I’m sure,” muttered Shan. “I’ve heard the Ro’Nihn trainer here is quite the ball buster.”
“I have heard the very same thing. And believe me, it is all very true.”
With his troubles lightened, Shan could at last remember his manners. “Forgive me, I have made this all about me. I haven’t had the pleasure of catching your name.”
Standing, the fiery red-headed Ro’Nihn gave Shan a smile that somehow placed him at unease. “It’s Kascha,” she said.
-22-
The hills some distance from the road to Wayvred offered Serra and Fahn ample cover as they watched the horror from afar. Rynsik had been correct in his assessment. A convoy en route to Wayvred was currently being cut to pieces by a squad of Thorne specialists
. Serra was surprised to see them this far southeast, but their confidence seemed to grow with each passing day. On the way Serra had wondered aloud to Rynsik how he had known this attack was going to happen.
“Sometimes you can just feel it,” he had replied, and he said little else on the subject.
With superior firepower and the element of surprise, it had been easy for the Thorne squadron to overpower the small convoy. Presently, Serra could see roughly 20 soldiers surrounding what was left of the travelers. Unable to escape or elude their attackers, the leader of the convoy had gathered the three large transport vehicles together, forming a protective triangle around the survivors. And while this maneuver had bought some time, Serra knew that it was only delaying the inevitable.
The scene was a grisly one. Using cover or horseback, Serra watched as 20 strong riddled at the sides of the convoy with blue torrents of burning death. The weapons of the defenders weren’t near enough for an adequate defense, nor were there many to go around it would seem. While lasers fired on, the defense was limited to old quadbows and a crossbow. At least six horsemen circled the travelers like carrion birds, ravenous for their delayed feast. With each passing moment, the chance for survival dwindled further.
Surveying the scene with Jozlyn and Esmie, Rynsik had taken only a moment to assess a plan. Giving a few quick motions and orders, the Ro'Nihn went about their duty with silent swiftness. Rynsik had Vonack pan further out with his quadbow to provide cover. Serra was pleasantly surprised to see that for once, Vonack did not protest. Jozlyn mounted her horse Surewind and headed away from the action and out of sight. Serra was given a duty along with Fahn. And to her surprise, it was no surprise at all.
Serra was to remain on the hill with Fahn as her bodyguard and do absolutely nothing, with the explicit order of “don’t get killed.”
“Stay close to her.” Rynsik had added to Fahn. “And be wary of snipers. There is at least one around.”
“Can you feel that too?” Serra felt that her question came off harsher than she had intended and was mad at herself for it.
Rynsik regarded her for briefest of seconds. “Yes, I can, Serra. Just as I can feel those people down there that are scared or dying.” It was then that Rynsik had made his way away from Serra and Fahn.
Serra watched as her entourage discreetly placed themselves in their positions with swift precision. She could not help but feel somewhat angered by Rynsik. He had a way of making her feel inadequate, and right now she felt practically useless as she watched the activity below. What made matters worse was that Serra felt that she took Fahn out of the fight because someone was needed to guard her. Feeling as if there was nothing that she could do, she endured the only action left to her in the moment.
Serra watched and waited.
Serra did not know what cue had commenced it, but almost simultaneously the Ro'Nihn set to work. She was once again astounded by their skill. In one moment, there was nothing and in the next they were all around the edges of a circle of unfolding death. Serra’s immediate attention was brought to the opposite side of the road. On that end, there were at least five soldiers firing easily from the cover of jutted rock. Serra saw three behind a large cluster and another two behind a smaller patch of rock not far from their comrades.
Unfortunately for those soldiers, they did not see the three masked warriors now forming behind them. Squinting, Serra made out the forms and colors of Kylynne, Willem, and Weiss. Silently, they closed the distance between the soldiers presently using rock as their protection. It wasn’t nearly protection enough from a rear assault. All five soldiers went down without their fellow squad mates' knowledge. Serra whistled, impressed by what had unfolded.
It was behind that cover that the three Ro'Nihn remained for the time being. Apparently, that moment had been the cue for Vonack. He was over 200 feet to the right of Serra and Fahn, situated well with his modified quadbow. In that moment, he opened fire, letting fly with three shots, hitting and killing the two covered soldiers closest to his location. Their screams alerted the remaining Thorne soldiers to his presence, sending much of their attention Vonack's way.
This was exactly what Rynsik had intended. With that distraction from the north at hand, Rynsik, Voltaire and Esmie shot in from the south of the road, tearing up the distance on their sleek hovercycles. For a long stretch Voltaire and Rynsik flanked Esmie. This continued until they were within striking distance of their opposition. It was then that the trio broke apart to attend to the agenda each now held.
Veering left, Voltaire headed toward the western side of the road, not far from the injured convoy. There was a horsed Thorne rider who had taken a pause to place a well-aimed shot into a space between two of the convoy vehicles. Hitting his accelerator again, Voltaire closed the distance at about the same time the soldier realized his presence. This knowledge mattered little for the soldier in the end.
A split second from the side of the horse, Voltaire hopped his cycle into the air. Simultaneously, he twisted it so that the belly of his ride hit the horsemen sideways. While the horse momentarily lost its footing, its rider was ripped from the saddle with great force. Voltaire came down on the other side of the steed, gunning his engine again and turning hard as he hit the ground. Between him and the Earth on the impact was the broken body of the unhorsed soldier. Voltaire initiated a circle that took him in a counterclockwise motion, an act that restored his control and speed as he returned toward the convoy at breakneck velocity.
Heading right and to the eastern side of the road, Rynsik first gunned his cycle at another splash of rock hiding a zealous soldier. The soldier saw Voltaire just as Rynsik reached him. As the soldier set his aim upon the large Ro'Nihn, he was oblivious to his own doom. As he zoomed by, Rynsik’s staff collided with the left side of the soldier’s head as the right side drove into the rock before him. Rynsik continued his course as the soldier faded to the ground leaving a blood trail down the cover of rock.
Continuing his arc, Rynsik too found a horseman near the center of the fray. Wasting no words, Rynsik raised his feet to the seat, launching himself through the air as he sped closer. As his cycle careened off into the distance, Rynsik’s hands met the upper body and neck of his target. Rynsik and soldier both descended off the other side of the horse. The difference was Rynsik’s target met the ground with his head and neck, ending his life. Rynsik rolled once, twice, and then slid to a stop.
Thus covered, Esmie shot straight on ahead toward the convoy. As she neared it, a wounded Thorne soldier stood to take a shot at her from the remains of a cargo van. Without a thought, she let fly with one of her sais. Its longest blade found her attacker’s throat, ending his opposition as he faltered to his knees. Esmie reached the convoy safely, jumping from her cycle and ducking into the defensive triangle to attend to the wounded.
As Rynsik rose to his feet, he found himself being fired upon. Serra watched as the young warrior deftly deflected several shots as he dove for cover behind the same charred van in which a slain Thorne warrior had just tried to stop Esmie. Serra sighed in relief, for Rynsik had reached cover unscathed. Serra turned her attention again to the opposite side of the road, where Voltaire was finishing his circle and closing in once more on the convoy.
Voltaire sped his cycle into the fray as Kylynne, Willem, and Weiss were busy disposing of another batch of Thorne soldiers. There were two more in their near vicinity and no match for the trio of Ro'Nihn. That left only one soldier standing on their side of the road. Presently, that soldier was trying to fire upon a girl no more than 14 years of age. The girl huddled behind a dead horse with the convoy behind her; out of Rynsik’s line of sight and out of reach of the trio on the western hill.
Goosing his accelerator again, Voltaire shot into the small space between the barricaded convoy and the dead horse. Extending his left arm, he scooped the girl up, embracing her tightly against his chest as he sped by the convoy, heading up the road and through opposition. Immediately, the remaining soldi
ers took shots at the Achylles clansman. Serra held a long breath as Voltaire tore through unforgiving laser fire with great speed. Blue bolts ate at the air and ground around him, but Voltaire proved agile and elusive. He carved a path through the battle zone, at last heading northeast to the safety of the open road.
“That was too close,” breathed Fahn as Serra nodded silently.
Serra and Fahn continued watching the scene unfold. Kylynne, Willem, and Weiss reached the final soldier on their way to the convoy. He had time to let out one shot before Willem’s thrown staff connected with his face. It took only seconds before the three made it to the convoy to assist Esmie and the survivors. The fight was going well but Serra found it impossible to release the grip of anxiety that enfolded her chest. With abated breaths she watched on, hoping and praying beyond all hope for her comrades.
“Uh oh,” said Fahn, looking to her right.
“What is it?” asked Serra.
“Trouble. Stay here, Serra.” Fahn was up on her feet in a flash, heading in the direction of Vonack.
It did not take long for Serra to realize what drove Fahn to such urgency. As Fahn broke into a sprint, Serra caught a glimpse from behind Vonack. As Vonack exchanged fire from the cover of the hill, two Thorne soldiers had gotten a bead on the Bannar native. They were further north than Vonack and out of his field of vision. Both were taking aim at him and prepared to end his life.
“Vonack! Snipers!” Fahn was screaming and pointing as she ran. Luckily, it had not taken long for him to take notice. Turning his head to his right flank, Vonack caught wind of his predicament very quickly. In the blink of an eye, his mind had assessed the situation.
“Aw, hell,” he said.
Lunging forward, quadbow in hand, Vonack rolled his body to the other side of his hilltop cover. Immediately, shots ravaged the ground where he had perched only seconds before. Vonack shielded his face as dirt and chunks of grass flew upon him. He swore again as he realized that while many of remaining opposition were distracted, he was, for the moment, nothing more than a sitting duck. To make matters worse, at least one of the enemies from below had taken notice of his predicament. Vonack saw that soldier at about the same time the soldier had seen him. Wasting no time, Vonack got the drop and opened fire with his quadbow, sending the soldier into cover.
Echoes of Ashener Page 20
