Ashener's Calling

by David Partelow

  Major Winston was more than happy to join in on the subject matter. “Don’t forget the multiple reports of abilities that go far beyond anything recorded in Thorne. The instances vary for each individual case: empathy, psychic-surgery, excessive feats of strength and endurance, and something I can only categorize as the manipulation of human energies. The fact that these abilities vary so much makes it nearly impossible to implement proper countermeasures.”

  Colonel Hickson crossed his arms. “You both still cling to your resolve. You will feel foolish when we roll over any resistance that stands before us,” he said.

  Miller laughed, only to get under Hickson’s skin. “We’ll see about that, Hickson. You will witness firsthand these accounts, and you will see that it is no magic that is cast upon you. These are a people of sleeping giants, with none fiercer than from the lands in the south in a place called Axiter.”

  Hickson snorted his disgust. “Oh, don’t go on about that damn place again.”

  “Colonel Miller is correct,” said Winston. “Our greatest opposition will be from that region. Of that, you can be certain. From a military standpoint, I would advise you to address that threat before it can be bolstered and thrown against us, general.”

  “I’ve heard many stories of that place,” mused Richard Nelson. “And the more that I hear the more that I believe I may have finally found some worthy adversaries for a change.”

  Cresul looked again at Colonel Miller and Major Winston. “And do you still believe Axiter to be such a great nuisance to our efforts? I have factored them in but still don’t feel they have the numbers to damage us with any significance.”

  Major Winston exchanged a glance with Miller before continuing. “All I know, sir is that, thanks to Colonel Miller, I recently witnessed a handful of these warriors in action. We were able to best them in combat, but the kill ratio was in their favor by more than ten to one. Ten to one, sir. And this is a group that specializes in melee combat. That’s ten to one with staffs and swords against some of our rifle toting Special Forces. I tell you, do not underestimate these masked warriors, these Ro’Nihn as they are called. I feel they could make or break this war.”

  Cresul waived off the notion, adding an edge to his voice. “Your concerns are noted Colonel. That is all for now.”

  Colonel Miller bit back further comments, sitting back in his seat and saying nothing more on the subject.

  Cresul stood and continued, taking in each man present. “Now we can continue in this way until we bleed out of our ears, but it is irrelevant. Remember that it is your job to follow orders and mine to take the responsibility of our due course. I assure you that I will not fail. The trap is set. Morganne has turned a blind eye, and we will walk without resistance through their lands. Our informant waits like a coiled snake ready to strike. These are glorious times, people. And that glory awaits those who are willing to make sacrifices and come with me through the fires.”

  Cresul paused for a moment before continuing. As he walked down the room, he checked every soldier’s uniform for blemishes, picking off small bits here and there. He smiled easily as he reached the end of the table. “Each one of you has been personally selected by me, because I feel that you have what it takes to achieve the ends that will surely justify the means. My means. All of you are soldiers I would gladly carry with me into the annals of war.”

  “That’s my cue,” said Janzen with a wicked grin.

  Cresul motioned for Janzen then, who stood up and ventured down the table via the opposite end. As Janzen walked, Cresul’s smile dissolved as his gaze turned to Captain Murlen. “All except you that is.”

  “Huh?” That was all Captain Murlen could muster as he turned to regard his commanding officer.

  Cresul continued, ignoring the captain’s lackluster response. “Captain Murlen, you are here because your daddy was a fine example to the ranks of Thorne. You have remained in this military and have risen to your present position because of him. You are here now because your father called in some favors, and I know for a fact he prays that this conquest will continue the reputation that he has worked very hard to create. And for that I will do him the greatest honor I can bestow in this war.” Cresul took a few steps to the left of Captain Murlen and motioned to the folder Jessie had just so recently smelled.

  “Uh, I am not so sure I understand, sir,” stammered Murlen.

  Cresul nodded with indifference. “Obviously, but you will, son, don’t worry about that. What you have within your hands is your duty for your country. Your ‘special service’ to the cause if you will. For Murlen, I will make no lies. I find your existence in this room and in my army to be utterly disgraceful. You are a disgusting slob and have been riding the wake of your father's exploits all your life. You have done nothing on your own, save feed that pathetic trap you call a mouth and waste space that would have been more fit for someone who can stomach the job. Open that folder now and read it for me, captain.”

  Jessie Murlen’s hands began to shake as he fumbled with the folder. As he opened the folder, he could no longer take the focus that was upon him or control his already lazy bodily functions. As he learned forward to review the contents of his orders, he broke wind. “S-sir?”

  Cresul’s nostrils flared as he turned his head slightly in disgust. “Just read, captain. That’s an order.”

  Wiping his nose and smelling the back of his hand, Captain Murlen at last found the resolve to read the paper resting before him. “This is a letter to my father.”

  “Indeed, it is,” said Cresul

  Murlen continued. “It is with regret that we inform you that your son was killed while valiantly fighting the hordes of Vallance.”

  “Those are most tragic circumstances, but an honorable death regardless,” replied Cresul.

  “But I don’t understand.” Murlen looked pleadingly toward his commander as he spoke.

  Cresul shrugged his shoulders. “That is, of course, irrelevant. I admit it is because you are, quite simply, a scar on the ass of our society. Janzen, if you will, please.” He motioned with a dismissive gesture to the metallic warrior.

  “B-But–” was the last word Captain Jessie Murlen ever uttered in the world.

  The palm of Janzen’s hand fit ever-so perfectly upon the back of Murlen’s head. With one swift motion, Janzen sent Murlen’s face crashing into and then through the letter and table. Captain Murlen’s arms thrashed once, twice and fell to the table in fading spasms. As the last ounces of resistance and energy left Murlen, he broke wind a final time. Blood began to sputter upon the table. The look that hung upon Janzen’s face was even more sickening than the sight of his handiwork.

  Cresul turned and smiled, for Murlen was already forgotten. “And now for something that should have been done long ago.” Cresul pointed to the soldier standing at attention near the carnage. “Lieutenant Vick, isn’t it? Yes, I’ve kept an eye on you, and I have been impressed. You’re a promising officer, much more than this flatulent slab of meat so recently sent back to his maker. I seem to have an opening in my staff. Please sit.”

  Lieutenant Elliot Vick, a refined, lanky, sandy blonde young man did as he was bid, even though it meant sitting where the bloody hole resided. Wasting no effort, he seated himself as Janzen withdrew the limp body of Jessie Murlen. Vick stared at his commanding officer but allowed no horror or surprise to flit across his face. He knew that such weakness could mean his life as well.

  Cresul gave curt bow as he spoke. “Welcome aboard, Captain Vick. I trust you will serve your country well. I have brought you to this fold so that you may see how I treat exceptional service as well as gross incompetence. I would now ask you to watch and learn. You will gain the gist of things as we go on.”

  The newly-appointed captain nodded his head. “Thank you, sir. I will serve to the best of my ability.”

  “Splendid.” Cresul gave another of his feral, yet somehow charming smiles. He motioned at the lifeless body that Janzen still held, turning
his attention to the others. “His father will be honored to know his son died in combat, serving his country. Sadly, the scourge of Vallance proved to be too great.”

  No one dared to say a word as Janzen threw the lifeless body against the nearby wall. The corpse of Captain Murlen splashed in a heap, blood still oozing from his wounds. Cresul finished his circuit around the table, stopping at where Lianna huddled in the corner. Reaching forward, he cupped her face in his hand, staring with satisfaction in his eyes. Soon he released her and turned his focus back to the table.

  “Back to more pressing matters.” His smile and face revealed instantly sick satisfaction. It was the look of a man who did not lose himself in madness, but rather had befriended it. Lianna found it haunting that he could spit so much venom through that carefree grin. “As I have said, I have noted your concerns, and I say with the utmost confidence that I am quite certain that the situation is under control. Before long we will be in the heart of Vallance, standing at the gates of Bannar itself, and when we cut out this country’s heart, you can rest assured that the body will soon follow. These Ro’Nihn from Axiter, no matter how skilled, will be stretched too thin to be of any concern to us. I intend to see that their lives become a nightmare.” General Cresul sat back down in his chair, not a care in the world shadowed his face. “Soon we will walk in the ashes of Bannar, and this country will be ours and there will be no one, and I mean no one, to stop us.”

  Lianna Navor felt a frigid chill drag up her spine at those words.

  {19}

  It was a magnificent day for the Ashener family, a combination of celebration and reunion if you will, and one that Norryn had long anticipated. The festival was indeed in full swing, but the third day also marked the arrival of the combined leaders of the regions of Vallance into Bannar. Norryn knew of the importance of such a meeting, but he still could not help but feel happy about seeing everyone together, regardless of circumstance. All Norryn could do at this point was keep his composure until the meeting commenced.

  Inside Bannar’s Gate, every guest was welcomed in turn with a warm reception. Alderich, Enora and their youngest son greeted each leader as they made their way through the celebrating streets of Bannar. There were many handshakes and hugs all around before Alderich had them directed to their rooms for rest and refreshment. Enora could not help but be amused by her son’s exuberance. He loved knowing each one of these people regardless of what they felt about him in return. She smiled proudly, for she knew her son had worked his way into their hearts as well.

  The first to arrive was Adaven Milestor from Rucker to the east. A quiet and simple man, Adaven had kept his town in shape for the last 45 years. He, very much like Alderich, never expected to be a leader. It was one of those things that had transpired gradually and warmly. No one was surprised with his appointment, and his tenure had been a prosperous time for Rucker.

  At 170 years of age, Adaven still showed no signs of relinquishing his leadership. Though he had grown frailer with time, he made up for it with his wit and temperament. Always sincere, his somewhat wrinkled, frank features conveyed his joy at seeing Bannar and his friends once more. He greeted the Asheners with a couple of warm embraces and a ruffling of hair for Norryn.

  The second to arrive was Turlen Dantry, leader of Chrone, a fortified town built within a mountainside. He was by far, the shortest, stoutest, most robust and jovial man Norryn had ever encountered. Slicking back his thick dark hair, he engulfed each Ashener with a bearish hug. Turlin indeed held enough heart and spirit in his body to fill the hall himself. Laughing all the while, he exchanged hellos before leaving to receive a very large meal after his long expedition.

  Turlin was one of those fellows that could come off as loud and obnoxious, especially when you first met him. It would be good to point out there were those that did not like him for those very reasons. However, Norryn knew when you looked past his jovial demeanor and lust for food and drink, Turlin Dantry was a very honest and capable man. He and the stout men and women of Chrone were some of the staunchest supporters of a unified Vallance.

  Next in line were Rybert Toller and his chosen, Ethandra. Rybert was about as tall as Alderich and of about the same age, but their similarities stopped there. A stern man, it was apparent that he was not pleased after his voyage from Shinteu. Norryn believed it was because he lived the furthest away. His chosen in tow remained as reserved as he, though her light brown eyes said that she would rather not be. But for as long as Norryn could remember it had always been that way with them; quiet, reservation and an air of indifference that concealed wells of emotions.

  Rybert had taken over the duties of Shinteu when his father had decided to relinquish a reign that spanned four decades. Of more than that, Norryn knew very little of the scenic town of Shinteu or how they felt about their leader. Nevertheless, Rybert had been a leader for the last 10 years. Rybert himself was an unassuming man, save for the gravity that always hung deep in his eyes. Of all the leaders, he was probably the most distant and coincidently, the least liked on the Unified Vallance Counsel. Obviously not caring one bit on such things, Rybert went through the motions, nodding and shaking hands with each of Norryn’s family before making his way to his temporary quarters.

  The leader of Rahn, Sindara Preece, soon followed the Tollers. Every feature she possessed conveyed an absolute and noble beauty, from her light elegant skin to her indomitable will. Much like Alderich, Sindara had been thrust into leadership by her populace. With a genuine care for her people and a tireless drive to match it, the decision was as obvious as it was unanimous. At the age of 55, she had quickly gained a reputation as a shrewd, fair and inspiring leader.

  Over the years, Norryn had found Sindara to be a deep and compassionate person and had enjoyed his visits to Rahn with his family. While Rahn’s leader did not have much room for nonsense, she held wisdom beyond her years if one chose to listen. Sindara clasped the hands of each Ashener family member into her own as she said hello. Her golden hair had grown long and was tied elegantly down her back to her belt. Many a man had vied for her beauty and wit, but none could pull her from her duty to the people of Rahn.

  Next to enter was the warrior Azhan Glansayer, chosen leader of the lands of Nadarr. For as long as Nadarr had existed, Azhan’s family had been its appointed leaders. His bloodline was a line of strength, honor and tradition. While the ways of Nadarr differed from many of the other towns of Vallance, its people as well as Azhan were ever loyal to the Asheners and to Vallance.

  Azhan was too rigid for his own good in Norryn’s estimation, but a good man just the same. He was garbed in strong white robes under impressive and trim armor. He bowed deeply to each of the Asheners, letting long wavy black hair dip freely toward the ground, past his careful goatee. When he got to Norryn, it was the boy who ruffled his hair as Azhan bowed, smiling ear to ear when Azhan looked at him in bewilderment. Alderich was about to say something when the semblance of a tight smile formed on the warrior’s face. Nodding to the young boy, he went on his way, guards in his wake.

  Following Azhan’s entourage were Hanser Dricore and his chosen Mareyna from Fulton, the town in the trees. Hanser was the newest of the leaders in the circle. His father had just recently found his passing, leaving everything in his first son’s hands. He and Mareyna had looked quite nervous in their present position but seemed to be adjusting well. Alderich had been a source of patient assistance during the transition. Hanser vigorously shook Alderich’s hand before bowing to Enora and their son, stammering his appreciation all the way. When they were gone, the Asheners exchanged glances and smiles to one another.

  They turned toward the meeting hall when a familiar voice stopped them. Rich in tone, it still echoed humorously as it beamed into the doorway. “And I suppose you three think I traveled across countless miles to be greeted by your back sides; I am certainly appalled by the changes of Bannar hospitality in my absence.”

  “Wyndall!” Norryn went running for the door.
Alderich laughed warmly as an old friend filled the doorways. Norryn jumped and was engulfed in outstretched arms. Wyndall patted the boy on the back, hugging him tight. He rested his masked face onto the side of Norryn’s head. Norryn pulled back slightly, smiling at the Ro'Nihn leader. Norryn was overjoyed to finally see him again. The familiar contours and soothing blue hues of his mask always brought comfort to the young boy.

  Wyndall squeezed a bit tighter as he continued his walk. “Ah, and it’s good to see you too, my boy. It’s been what feels like ages.” He sat the young Ashener down and put his hand on his shoulder as he knelt. “Now this is the part I am supposed to marvel at how you’ve grown and say you are becoming more of a man each day. So that means you’re supposed to sprout for me sometime so that I can say such things. Do you know I have a daughter that’s dwarfing you now?”

  “Hey, I’m not that small,” said the boy smiling.

  “Aye, I agree. In comparison to toddlers in Axiter you are huge.” Wyndall laughed as Norryn gave him a playful push. He stood to take in Norryn’s parents as well. “Ah, Alderich, Enora. As I told your boy here it has been far too long.” He first took Alderich’s hand into his own, pulling it to his chest for an embrace. He bowed to Enora before kissing her on her cheek. “And Enora, though your son grows no taller, your beauty only grows deeper with age. I will not ask your secrets, but I wonder how a man such as your chosen can keep up with a woman of your caliber?”

  Enora smiled back at him. “I do believe you give him too much credit on that subject, Wyndall.”

  Alderich put his hand on Wyndall’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Flanked again I see. Perhaps I should allow you to endure such a caliber firsthand and send her to Axiter for a while, old friend.” A swift elbow from his chosen followed that comment. “And then again, perhaps not. How is Axiter faring?”