Ashener's Calling

by David Partelow

  “Uh huh.” Geyre was still unconvinced.

  “Really needed it,” added Norryn.

  “Right.”

  “Heck, in some ways I would say they were begging for it even. Did you see that one guy try to-”

  Serra jumped in then. “Norryn Ashener, you insufferable creature! Picking on boys like that, you should be ashamed,” she said before she sprouted up and mockingly stormed off.

  Norryn hollered in her wake before following. “Picking on them? I’m eleven here! It wasn’t my idea anyway. Hey, I wasn’t even through with Geyre yet. I’ve got a few more things I want to show him still. Get back here!”

  Geyre watched them off in the distance, knowing that childhood was a beautiful thing, something that he had hoped to have more of than was given to him. Geyre had seen so many sides to Norryn Ashener, but it was always a relief to see that he too, could be just a boy enjoying his childhood while it remained. Cherish it now little man, I see big things for you in the future that will make memories like this pretty damn bittersweet. That is just life’s way sometimes.

  Geyre then picked up the knife embedded in the dirt and went to find some evening refreshment.

  As for the practice knives, he left them where they lay, no longer fond of the memories they procured.

  {24}

  Somewhere in the heart of Axiter, a young boy’s eyes opened with slow, painful reluctance. He was no longer able to tell the time, for it was always kept dark and comfortable in his room. But for as long as he cared to remember, he had been stuck to his room, but more so he was chained to his bed. He swallowed hard at the rock that felt lodged in his throat. Covered in three blankets, the boy was still frozen to the bone. Not long ago, he held dreams and ambitions. Now the only thing that filled his mind was overcoming the sickness that ravaged his body so he could see another sunrise.

  With a trembling hand, the boy covered his mouth as he coughed with sickened, burning lungs. This round was a bad one, shaking him to his very core and increasing the rawness of his chest. With dwindling, feeble strength, he reached for the cup of water on the stand next to his bed. Sadly, it was just out of his grasp, and he had not the stamina to reach it. Crashing his head back down on his pillow once more, he tried to regain his breath. It seemed to him that his vitality had grown even more fleeting.

  It was then that a soothing caress went to his forehead, calming him instantly. Quickly, the tension lessened, and the young boy put himself at ease. He would look up at her, but he knew who it was, could feel who she was and that was enough. She obtained the glass of water and brought it to his lips. He took what water he could, able to swallow a little before coughing the rest up. She put the cup back and grabbed a cloth, wiping his lips and face.

  “Stay where you are, Rynsik. If nothing else, you need your rest.”

  Rynsik of the Jacoi, son of Wyndall took his left hand, putting it around the hand wiping at his face. He squeezed with what strength he could, grateful for the fact that he was not alone. “Kascha,” he croaked.

  The woman known as Kascha let the sternness of her voice fade as she tried to calm Rynsik. “Yes. I’m here. You don’t need to talk. Just rest now,” she said back to him. Kascha took her free hand and felt Rynsik’s fire-hot cheeks. The backs of her fingers went over the blisters that had formed on his face over the last few weeks. Kascha of the Dryganus, long-time friend of Rynsik’s father and Ro’Nihn trainer, remembered when Rynsik could still walk on his own. Slowly, his condition had worsened to his present state. She had promised that she would stay close to Rynsik until there was light at the end of the tunnel. Nowadays, she didn’t know if that day was ever going to come.

  Kascha had watched as Rynsik had slowly grown sick. After a week, his condition had improved, but the improvement was only temporary. One week later found Rynsik slowly slipping into the abyss of his current state. All the best healers in town had examined Rynsik, and each had been stymied by the boy’s condition. In the end, all they could do was make Rynsik more comfortable or slow down the affliction that trampled every single one of the young boy’s defenses.

  Pained to see him in such a state, Kascha banished her dismay from her voice. “Rynsik, can I get you anything? Just give me the word.”

  Rynsik tightened his grip upon her hand as he struggled to inch out the words from this throat. “Just. Stay. Please.”

  Kascha moved aside the strands of hair that were threatening to go into Rynsik’s eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Rynsik. Rest now. When you wake up, I’ll be here. You have my word.”

  That was enough for Rynsik. He knew that no matter what, Kascha was a person of her word. And if she said she was to do something, then by gods she did it. At last, Rynsik closed his eyes for sleep once more. Swallowing hard again, Rynsik prepared himself for the needed, yet feared rest that loomed in his horizon.

  Rynsik was afraid to sleep these days, afraid of the vivid dreams that crept out of sleep at every hour of the day. In his state, they often felt more real than what was real. He was afraid of how he felt when he woke, as those moments were the most difficult to breathe. But there was something else that troubled Rynsik. Most of all, there was one simple thing that made sleep for him petrifying every single night.

  Rynsik was afraid that he would never wake up again.

  Thoughts such as these made already feverish nightmares much, much worse. Rynsik was a young boy, but he was of the warrior town of Axiter and he knew full well that death was a possibility. He accepted early on that death came in any season. It mattered not the age or the fate of a man or woman; it found you when it was ready. Rynsik could not tell you how many days were left for him, but he knew he would be taken from life kicking and screaming no matter the cost.

  Rynsik put aside his cares, at least for the moment. Kascha was there and that in the end was something. He would sleep now, bolstering his resolve to fight harder. And one of these days, he planned on getting out of this prison of a bed and return to the world. Rynsik had vowed it to himself daily. He was going to carry on and do more than just survive.

  Rynsik of the Jacoi was going to live.

  {25}

  At 31 years of age, Janzen Wollace had seen an enormous amount of violence and death in his day. In the time when Thedron Ralick was grabbing for power, he had fought in a myriad of battles that made him into the machine-man he was today. Thinking back on it now, he would not have traded any of it for the world. He was more than ready to add a few more chapters. The people of Banner would have no idea what hit them.

  Sitting in his small makeshift camp, Janzen surveyed the land. Everything was luscious and green. Peace prevailed as the day slowly came to an end. It made Janzen sick. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that they were hours from uprooting that peace for pure, unrestrained mayhem. He just had to hold out a bit longer and then all his waiting would be made worthwhile. For now he focused on his duties at hand, like reporting his progress to his boss.

  Keeping distracted, Janzen busied himself with opening a line of communication. He had been setting up the communicator for some time now, and the process always gave him fits. While the device was a marvel and let him talk to Ralick from great distances, to Janzen it was a bulky pain in the ass to tote around. Daily he fought the urge to report it “damaged beyond repair.”

  After a few curses and a little knob twisting, the bulky contraption spat to life. First there was a hissing of dissatisfying static while Janzen found the private channel he shared with Ralick. Soon enough it became a quiet steady hum as he threw on the headset to speak. Clearing his throat, he swallowed the lump that fought with his tonsils before speaking into the receiver.

  “Boss, it’s Janzen. Come back to me. Are you there?”

  “You know that I am,” spat a dark and impatient voice. “Speak your mind already, Janzen, for I know how much you hate inactivity.”

  Janzen sat back on his side as he talked. “Everything is running like a well oiled-machine. We�
��re in motion and there’s not a hitch to be seen. The attack is on as scheduled. We’re just waiting for the word. Ol’ Cresul is chomping at the bit to get in there and do his best, which is his worst. Hell, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way.”

  “I would expect no less from you or Cresul,” said the voice again. It would have turned Janzen’s blood cold if it hadn’t already flowed that way. “Have there been any setbacks? There is no time for mistakes now. One slip could cost years of planning. That outcome is unacceptable to me, Janzen. Secrecy must be held intact at all costs, moreso now than ever.”

  Janzen smiled as he spat on the ground. He wiped off what didn’t make it with his sleeve. His smile bore teeth as dull and dirty as his hair. “Oh, there won’t problem there. We’ve seen to it. Before it’s all over, this whole damn country is gonna burn. You rest easy knowing that Vallance has a lot of death and bloodshed coming to it.”

  “See that there is. I want a trail of blood all the way to Bannar. If we can kill Alderich, then the rest of our road is downhill. The country puts a lot of faith in the fool. Kill the shepherd and the sheep are more easily brought to slaughter. I want him dead tonight. Cresul’s plan must be followed at any cost, but that is my addition for you. See that the general gets whatever he needs. Weed out any who would threaten our victory.”

  Janzen flexed his hand, imagining it wrapped around a throat. “Not to worry. Our man’s in place and we are ready for when gives the signal. Everything is going exactly as Cresul has promised.” Janzen looked to the east a moment in thought. “You know, he’s got another kid other than the one in the field. Name’s Nerran, Norran or Norryn or something like that.” Ah, who the hell cares anyway? “From what I hear he’s pretty popular there in Bannar. He’s just a little runt, but I just thought I would mention it.”

  Silence met Janzen as Ralick thought on his words. “Yes. Yes of course. Who knows what they may do after the hammers drop. Even in youth he is already a figurehead. He could turn out to be a threat to us. Even at his age he could be a rallying cry for Vallance. I think it would be best if he shared the same fate as his father.”

  Janzen grinned wickedly at the request. “It will be done then, with pleasure of course.”

  “See that it is. Do not report back until Bannar is nothing more than ashes.” With that the transmission ended.

  Janzen took the headset off and tossed it over by the communicator. His heart was starting to race. He looked again to the east. He could still make out the details of Bannar from here. Many believed that it was beautiful to behold. It made Janzen sick for no other reason other than he wanted it to make him sick. He wanted fuels to stoke the fires of his lust for battle. Bannar was nothing more than a symbol of the carnage to ensue. To him, this night was the beginning of the greatest moments of his life. It was time for war, and on the bloody fields of combat, Janzen was a god.

  Janzen focused on the enemy capital as he imagined it engulfed in a sea of flame. Enjoy the little moments while you can, Bannar. After tonight, there is no tomorrow. I’m gonna dance on your god damned ashes. Janzen motioned to one of his soldiers to get the men in order. Checking his own weapons, Janzen’s mind began to race with almost child-like glee.

  The fun was just about to begin.

  {26}

  The main banquet hall in Bannar’s Gate proved to be overwhelming in its splendor. Weiss of the Fellane felt out of place among so many people, and yet somehow he found ease at such a warming occasion. Being a Ro’Nihn of Axiter often meant long journeys on the road with little or no company. Events such as the Grand Harvest overloaded every single sense when most of your life involved such solitude. Nevertheless, at least for the moment, Weiss intended to enjoy the the pleasant change of pace.

  Adjusting his mask, Weiss looked within the crowds to find his traveling companions. Their duty brought them inside Bannar’s walls, and all present were free to participate in the harvest festivities. Not wanting to offend their host, nor having any desire to miss such an event, Weiss and his chums accepted the offer to attend the merriments within Bannar. Weiss had met many dignitaries that night, and even had the chance to shake hands with Alderich Ashener, his wife, and their rambunctious son. Presently, Weiss was sitting against the edge of the hall, drink in hand, watching the night unfold before him.

  In all honesty, Weiss felt a little uncomfortable. He and his companions dressed for the event with what items they could. All Ro’Nihn of Axiter generally carried such necessities for these occasions. Weiss himself wore a ceremonial cloak from his Fellane clan, along with additions to his mask and arm guards. It offered him a flare that he would not have on the road. To add to his delight, he’d even been given personal quarters to bathe and rest in. Add that to a stellar meal and Weiss would have felt guilty asking for more.

  Weiss finally caught the attention of his approaching cohorts, fellow warriors Arnen of the Essant and Gusser of the Redgrove. Arnen and Gusser were both older than Weiss by at least 10 years, but still the three shared a solid friendship. Gusser was carrying a plate, recently replenished with more steaming food while Arnen carried two glasses containing different kinds of liquor. One appeared to be a fine wine in a goblet and the other a mug of some rich smelling ale.

  “Can you believe this? It’s even better than last time! They have booze from every corner of the nation,” said Arnen as he took a long drink from the mug of ale. “I love this time of the year.”

  “Oh, we know,” said Gusser, taking a bite out of a large turkey leg. “We remember two years ago, you know, when you got roaring drunk and all cuddly with everyone you could get your hands on, including Weiss.”

  Weiss nodded. “Yeah, I warned you about that Morganne whiskey,” he added with a shiver. “But I don’t think anything mixes with all that beer you had that night.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  Weiss looked at him with wide eyes. “It wasn’t that bad? You tried to kiss me!”

  “Ah, hell, I don’t remember it happening like that, Weiss.”

  “Of course you don’t, you jackass!” Gusser threw a piece of meat at Arnen. Slivers of food escaped his mouth as he spoke. “I’d be surprised if you remembered anything from that night!”

  Weiss shook his head at his two comrades. They had shared a lot of fun memories on the road. Of course, there had been a few that he would rather choose to forget. “Nothing like being stuck with you guys over the years to remind me . . . that I am stuck with you guys.” He looked around again at the crowd, searching for their fourth companion. “So, have you guys seen Reyna tonight?”

  Arnen and Gusser looked at each other for a quick second, smiling. Arnen looked at Weiss. “Nope, not yet anyway, but I am sure she’s around.”

  “Yeah,” said the shorter, more robust Gusser, “and maybe tonight you will actually do something about it. As he said that, he and Arnen shared a glance just before they both burst out laughing.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” asked Weiss as his hands went to his hips.

  “We’ll give you three guesses, wuss, but you will only need one.” Arnen took a swig of both his drinks. “How long have you been sweet on Reyna anyway?”

  Weiss shrugged at the question. “Who knows? I just am,” he said evasively.

  Arnen pointed an impatient finger at his friend. “Then stop messing around already. You are driving me and Gusser crazy. So the time’s come to be a man and stop being a fu– ”

  Gusser hit Arnen in the stomach, spilling some of both of his drinks. “–oh hey, Reyna, there you are. I almost didn’t recognize you without the mask,” he said.

  “Hello gentlemen.”

  Arnen coughed a second and regained his composure. “Oh, hey Reyna.”

  Weiss looked between his comrades. The moment his eyes locked on Reyna of the Hailborne, he knew she had seen his surprise. “H-hey R-Reyna. You look . . . good tonight.” Weiss cursed himself for the understatement.

  Reyna of the Hailbor
ne, to Weiss and many other men in the room, looked stunning to say the least. She had borrowed a dress from one of the locals, and now it rested on Reyna with mesmerizing results. As Arnen had noted, her mask was off, and her face reflected the splendor of the festival. Weiss gazed upon her hair as it hung freely upon her neck and shoulders. Watching her now, Weiss collected himself and tried to be casual. He then attempted to find the thoughts to match, yet had great trouble doing this.

  Reyna offered a polite smile. “Thank you, Weiss. Esaundra Denore, sister of Enora Ashener, was kind enough to lend me this dress for the evening. I wanted to see what it was like to blend in and not be recognized as a Ro’Nihn.”

  “Not to worry there,” said Gusser chuckling, “hell, we hardly recognized you ourselves.”

  There was a momentary silence. Gusser took another bite from his turkey leg. Arnen took more drinks from his beverages. Weiss stared at Reyna, not realizing he was doing so as Reyna surveyed the hall for a moment. Arnen noticed that Weiss was still staring. Kicking his friend on the shin he cleared his throat.

  “So, Weiss, me and Gusser have to go meet with some advisors from Chrone. We told’em we would make an appearance at their table. We’ll be back in a bit,” he said, glancing at Gusser and motioning for him to follow.

  Gusser caught on soon enough. “Uh, yeah, might as well get it over with. Besides, I need some more grub anyway.”

  Arnen and Gusser headed away. As they went, Arnen held a drink toward Reyna and Weiss. “We’ll see you two in a bit then.” As he left, he stared into the eyes of Weiss and motioned toward Reyna with them. It was a look that plainly, yet firmly said now’s your chance, stupid.

  Weiss watched them go and for the moment, then he and Reyna were alone in a crowded hall. He then found it hard to return his eyes to hers, fearing that he would betray his true feelings. Finally, with reluctance he did and for a second he and Reyna’s eyes locked before he turned his head again. He was having such a difficult time seeing her like this; relaxed, unmasked and so very beautiful.