Remnant Pages Spearhead

by J. B. Kleynhans

  He had not expected her to show up that day, and had not expected her to keep resolve, holding on to the stone and braving the skies. On the other front she was committed to a soldier, so she understood the sacrifices and the effects war had on a man. It was a rare experience for Olexion to admire a girl like he did Elmira.

  This Cid is one lucky man…

  Olexion reconsidered the thought, taking in account that which he had read in the reports and considered the woman behind him.

  No, there is nothing lucky about Cid; the kind of loyalty like Elmira was showing toward the soldier was a loyalty earned.

  Thinking about this Olexion knew that somehow he needed to get the Alder stone from Elmira and get her somewhere safe. He would not have her come in to a war, not to be endangered or revealed to it; Olexion himself cast off his innocence long ago to spare others theirs’. She wouldn’t like it, but it was for her own good.

  Yet Olexion could not make this decision. He made excuses to himself, like thinking how much she would appreciate seeing Cid alive and how tedious and time consuming it would be trying to get the stone from her.

  She is a shrewd girl, he commended in his mind. But I have to leave her somewhere behind, it’s for her own protection.

  Still he could not make this decision. Puzzled, Olexion contemplated.

  He was not a man to show much excitement, but flying was one of his most prized experiences in life. Flying now, with this warm steel-willed girl behind him was unexpectedly comforting, nurturing contentment and triggering a deep seated urge to protect and reluctance to be distanced from her.

  Olexion realized he wasn’t going to leave her behind because he didn’t want to. Suddenly he felt a conflict of emotions.

  She has enough suitors as it is, he joked by himself in order to shake the uncomfortable affection. He rather focused on the task at hand, on what would wait them in Alparack and how best to get the answers they needed. His mind drifted to the Alder stone. How familiar…

  It was a memory so burned into Olexion’s mind he was sure no one will ever be able to make him forget it. It was roughly ten years ago by now, but the images remained vivid:

  Asheva was a glorious city, standing as the capital of the east and one of the most powerful nations on Angaria. No one could ever be sure, but it was widely believed to be the biggest city in the world. It was Olexion’s hometown and he grew up in constant admiration and wonder of it, his penchant for history and grandeur even as child ensuring that there was always something more to discover. Despite the coming of adulthood he could, like so many others, almost still not believe that men could build such gargantuan structures like the Grand Citadel.

  Most of Asheva's was a façade of polished marble; priceless statues and great parks intersected with elaborate waterworks of waterways, fountains and pools. In cost-effective resemblance to the rest of the marble frame the massive city highways were built with a white stone, whereupon some of the first intra-city railway systems in the world were laid, the stream driven carriages of public transport becoming the answer to a city that had the potential to grow too great for its own good. Nowhere was it more grand or beautiful than around the Citadel itself, recognized as the prime beacon of human achievement and prosperity.

  With the duties of a Ranger though, Olexion quickly became accustomed with all the dark nooks and crannies of the world that most people were ignorant off. As a boy he would not have been able to dream that so many secrets rested within Asheva itself.

  It was a fateful day. Olexion was rising through the ranks with unprecedented speed given his dedication to his calling. Tabacher, the Grandmaster of the Summoner conclaves and schools, invited Olexion into the very hallows of the Conclave in the Citadel.

  The Rangers were protectors of the realms in the public eye, but the foremost of their duties saw them trained to fight rogue Summoners and direct or protect Kingdom Summoners should the need arise.

  To the outside world Summoners were the unknown quantity and therefore a menace, better left unmentioned in public circles, leaving the Rangerhood plight a sensitive affair. To these ends they reported to both King Reneus and Grandmaster Tabacher; the two most powerful authorities in the Kingdom.

  The censored reality was that the Kingdom used an array of Summoners to protect its bounty and people. Working in tandem with these Summoners were the highest ranking of the Rangers.

  The Summoners incidentally taught the Rangers the magic they used with their Volje, and like the Summoners the Rangers had access to information like very few others in the Kingdom.

  Even up here in the Citadel premises matters were kept secretive and vague, and till this day Olexion had yet to come to understand the true relationship of Summoner and Ranger. Grandmaster Tabacher was about to cast a revelation onto Olexion.

  Tabacher led the thirty-year old Olexion into a great hall. Like all Summoners Tabacher had a certain grace and power about him. His presence was helped on by the fact that he was older than any would care to fathom, though like all of his kind he didn’t show true signs of degeneration.

  He was taller than most Summoners and unlike the others his face was the only one who did show some age, the emerging lines giving his face some human character. Olexion knew Summoners could live for hundreds of years and Tabacher was undoubtedly some centuries old, and would in all probability outlive Olexion still. His dark hair and beard fitted his face like a mane, his pale blue eyes speaking of intelligence and experience of many ages.

  The hall was long, its smooth marble wall running up to become a high ceiling. With the double doors closed behind them the place was eerily illuminated with torches of blue light, magical light no doubt. Olexion should have known by then he wouldn’t like what he was going to see.

  Apprehensively he treaded behind the Summoner, casting his glance all around.

  Along the wall, demanding Olexion’s attention, were giant spheres, floating next to and above each other, the luminance of the room suggesting they were liquid.

  ‘Go on, take a look,’ urged the Grandmaster.

  Curiously Olexion approached. A closer glance revealed the sphere to be nothing more than a man sized bubble of water. An odd piece of magic, but…

  Olexion took a startled step back, shaking his head.

  He had seen a face inside the sphere. It wasn’t just a sphere, it was a cocoon!

  Tabacher appeared at his shoulder as Olexion suppressed a shudder.

  ‘These are our Summoners, Captain. Thirty-seven of them, some of the most powerful beings on the planet, all contained in one room,’ said Tabacher, his voice vibrant by the insinuation of his own statement.

  ‘They are… alive!?’ asked Olexion, making the outline of naked bodies in each of the spheres before him.

  ‘Yes, this is how we keep them in suspension, rendered in a complete comatose state. They are perfectly protected and preserved, even nurtured by the waters around them. Before we enclose our Summoners we make them forget, so that they are fresh and controllable when they are waken again.’

  ‘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. Ins
tantly 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 signs 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 the
m.

  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.