Cresul turned a disgusted glance to the man next to him. “Send the word. We’ve just lost valuable time. Prepare for immediate withdrawal.” The soldier rushed to follow the orders as Cresul turned from the battle.
General Cresul was furious now. Somehow Bannar had gotten a distress call out. The force sent north was likely on its way back, making a rigorous march toward the capital. That warning would cost Cresul precious time from his plan. His soldiers would not be able to complete their mission. The town’s cleansing would be incomplete. The very notion of it was infuriating. Someone would ultimately have to pay for this travesty.
Slowly, the general began to calm himself. It was a minor setback. Bannar was still falling and hopefully its leaders with it. The attack remained a masterful stroke, the beginning colors upon the canvas that would be Cresul’s glorious masterpiece. In the end, Vallance would be in total submission, and it was he who would receive the glory.
He would be the victor.
He would be a hero.
He would be immortal.
{43}
From the depths of the tunnels below, Serra Landring screamed until her throat and soul were raw and spent. She and Vonack, like many others, had found safety in the passages below Bannar. Many had died, but even more would have perished had they not found these passages. Serra had been walking through the dark corridors when her world crashed down on her from the inside out.
In the caverns, things were finally settling. Thankfully there were countless people in the passageways, a testament to a valiant few who had kept their heads and done their duty on the worst night the country of Vallance had ever known. Serra had found comfort in the fact that so many could live on in the face of certain death. The exhaustion and pain wore heavy on their faces and many had wounded in tow. The fact that they had survived was a grace that Serra could be thankful for, a soothing balm for the pain that was to come.
As they walked, Serra and Vonack had heard a commotion up ahead. They worked their way forward and to Serra’s horror, found Enora Ashener, wounded and unconscious. Enora was resting comfortably on the ground with a blanket placed beneath her. She was surrounded now by the Vallance counsil. Serra recognized many of them, including Sindara Preece, Turlin Dantry and Rybert Toller. Behind them were Azhan Glansayer and Geyre Windfalls. Both looked fraught with frustration but said nothing.
Serra worked her way past the council and to Enora’s side. “Enora!” She took Alderich’s chosen by the hand, looking at the others. “What happened?”
Esaundra Denore knelt at the other side of Enora. Tears ran freely down her face as she watched over her sister. She looked at Serra and the young girl’s heart sank. “The keep was stormed. She saved me, but this is what it cost her,” she sobbed.
Azhan lowered his head. “That is our fault, Esaundra Denore. Windfalls and I failed in our duties,” he said, gritting his teeth in frustration. He swallowed hard then but said nothing more.
Turlin Dantry turned in Azhan’s direction. “Just stop that nonsense now, Glansayer. Blaming yourself isn’t going to make her any better. You did what you could and that is more than any of us could have asked or done ourselves. If Enora was awake, she would cave in that thick skull of yours herself.” Azhan looked at Turlin and then to Geyre. His gaze finally returned to Turlin. Nodding slowly, he turned away from the group, still fighting pangs of guilt. Turlin returned his attention to Serra. “And as for you, little lady, I saw your parents not too far ahead. I’m sure they will be happy to know that you are all right.”
Serra smiled, grateful for the news. She thanked every star under the sky for their safety. “Thank you, Turlin Dantry. That means more to me than you can imagine, good news at last. I just hope– ”
It was then that Enora’s body convulsed beneath Serra. She squeezed at the young girl's hand, gasping in throes of pain. Her eyes were wide but unseeing before she finally collapsed again. Serra felt all the strength behind that convulsing grasp quickly fading as tears leaked down either side of Enora’s face. Serra squeezed back, leaning closer to the woman. “Enora, what is it? Try to rest yourself please.”
Enora’s paling eyes turned to Serra and locked. She closed them once more as if searching for something, a feeling that now eluded her. She opened her eyes again, and Serra knew that whatever it was, Enora had not found it. She swallowed painfully before speaking in nothing but a whisper. “Alderich,” she whispered.
Esaundra placed a hand on Enora’s head. “Don’t worry, sis. We’ll find him. You can count on that.”
Enora’s head moved gently back and forth. “No . . . he’s . . . he’s gone . . . gone . . .” Trailing on the last word, Enora breathed her last, and left them forever.
Silence covered those that surrounded Enora’s lifeless body. Many bowed their heads, struggling with tears and grief. Esaundra openly wept, burying her face into her sister’s chest. Serra hovered in shock. How could this be? With all the things that have happened, why this too? Why did they have to take Enora and Alderich? What did they do to deserve this? Oh, Enora. Serra squeezed the hand of her best friend’s mother, again opening herself to the sadness that she had shut out on the blood-stained streets of Bannar.
Suddenly, Serra’s own body was ravaged with pain. There was a sharp wrench in her shoulder and then another. Immediately, Serra felt the agony of injury and betrayal rolled harshly into one. Piercing, relentless images slowly flooded her senses. Norryn! No, not him! Gods, please not him too!
It was then that Serra screamed. She felt everything that Norryn felt. She felt the hurt in his eyes and the death that he had seen. She knew he had been betrayed. She knew that he had been shot. She screamed again as she felt him fall, plunging for what felt like an eternity. She called for him, screaming his name, even as they picked her up and took her further into the caverns toward safety. And when she felt him crash into the water and could feel nothing more of him, she whimpered once before exhaustion, shock, and the loss of everything engulfed her.
{44}
Bannar was slowly burning away to nothing. And while there was no more torment from the artilleries of Thorne, its soldiers had flooded the streets utterly and completely. The streets were painted in shades of red as the once wonderful sounds of peace were tattered in screams of the dying. Only hours before, the town had been alive, brimming from the Grand Harvest. Now this joy had been replaced with pain and death. It was as if the city itself cried out in its anguish.
On the west end of town was a large, residential sprawl. At the end of that stretch of a street was a cul-de-sac that consisted of a park. In that park was a fountain of a pair of lovers entwined. It was by this fountain that a handful of Ro’Nihn warriors, along with some of the town’s home defenses led a large group of tired and bewildered townsfolk whose only intention was to survive the night.
Garbed in the green hues of her clan, Reyna of the Hailborne led this desperate search for safety. It had been a difficult push and her comrades had encountered many roaming squads of Thorne’s butchers. And while many had been rescued, the price had been high. The group had already lost 12 defenders, three of them being fellow Ro'Nihn. Of those that remained, all save for one was wounded, including Reyna. Whether it was duty, self preservation, or the rage against such atrocities that kept them fighting, she could not say.
Taking her hand from the stab wound at her side, Reyna motioned for one of her Ro’Nihn comrades. She used her bloody fingers to remove strands of sweat-drenched hair from her eyes as she spoke. Her blood loss was considerable, but the fire of her duties burned with the strength to overshadow it. “Weiss, head back down the street and keep on the lookout. We have to be mindful of what time we may or may not have,” she ordered.
Weiss seemed uncertain of leaving her side. “You’re hurt. I should stay and tend to you. Have another take this task,” he said. Weiss was the best healer of the group and set about to work on the gash that continued to spill Reyna’s lifeblood.
However, suc
h things did not matter to Reyna in that given moment. She grabbed Weiss and pulled him closer. “Let hells become of what you think you should do! Don’t waste time debating with me. You’re unhurt and by far the fastest of us that remain. Go, now!” She pushed him away then, and with one last disapproving look at her wound Weiss left the park and took up his guard post.
Drawing a steadying breath, Reyna did her best to handle the countless eyes that were upon her. She had led the group far, but she could catch glimpses of the questions in their eyes. Reyna wondered if they believed her better judgment gone. She was certain that it was not the case.
Of course, there had been a part of her that protested the location. It was literally a dead end after all. Had the soldiers of Thorne cornered them here then everyone she had fought so hard to protect would surely die within the confines of the park. In fact, it had taken much strength of character to get many of those in tow to this very street knowing it was a cage if caught in it. However, Reyna had come here for reasons beyond mere whim or madness.
Reyna had chanced this street due to two hazel eyes, filled with conviction and sincerity. While cobbling up survivors, she had come across a young boy tearing through the streets with deep purpose. Somehow in the chaos, the young man’s spirit stood tall. When stopped, it was he that commanded her attention, though she wouldn’t have been able to explain it if pressed. Nevertheless, Reyna listened to the indomitable will behind wild blonde hair and those soothing hazel eyes.
Reyna had seen easily enough that escape from the town was nigh-impossible. Enemy soldiers swarming the town had just about every avenue blocked. Safety from the gunfire may have come from the center of town, but it was still the last place any survivor wanted to be. The young boy had urged her here, telling her that everything she had needed was in the hands of the two lovers who sat serenely in the fountain waters. She somehow doubted that but was compelled to check anyway.
Reyna hopped into the cold, placid water that came up just below her knees. Somehow the cold gave her new clarity as she trudged toward the center of the fountain. It was there the couple stood as lovers embracing for eternity. It was a strong lad with one arm around the shoulders of a beautiful woman as they looked into each other’s eyes. His other hand of course was entwined with hers, and he held it to his heart. Around them, spouts sprayed the two as rain would have fallen.
The wounded Ro’Nihn ran a bloody hand over the contours of the statue. It felt smooth, pleasant to touch, and instantly Reyna knew those that watched thought her mad. She hardly cared though, for death breathing down your neck stripped of you such insecurities. Reyna’s hand went to the face of the young man and his easygoing smile. Slowly, with blood trails seeping down with water over his contours, she traced her fingers to their entwined hands. Her heart began to falter when she found nothing.
But then, there was something. Pushing her focus to underneath their hands, Reyna found an opening just big enough for one of her fingers. Clenching her teeth, she placed a finger with held breath into the darkness. Pressing into the unknown, she placed every single hope she ever held into a prayer against the darkness and violence encircling her.
Somehow there came an audible click and the end to all her doubts.
The fountain water began to slowly drain. Reyna watched as cool liquid faded past her shins, retreating to parts unknown. She marveled at the efficiency and was surprised to discover there was more. Below her feet and the last remaining puddles of fountain water came a soft rumble. It took Reyna a second to realize what was happening, but when she did joy rushed back into her heart and hope once again called it home.
Three feet of the wall that held the fountain water in slowly descended into the street. As this happened, a large passageway revealed itself to Reyna and the others. It opened its mouth mere inches away from where the fountain wall descended. Ecstatic murmurs mixed with unbridled cheer as it erupted from the hearts of those that had followed Reyna to the fountain. Reyna warmly welcomed her beating heart again as she called for her comrades to send the survivors toward the safety below.
The entry was large enough to allow the Bannar refugees to file down two by two. Reyna was grateful that they had not panicked. They entered the darkness below without question and as efficiently as anyone could have hoped for considering the situation. Reyna would have felt relief in that moment had it not taken every ounce of her strength just to keep herself on her own two feet. Her blood loss slowly continued and only her will and resolve kept her conscious.
Reyna’s task was almost complete. In only minutes the bulk of the survivors were tucked safely into the secret tunnels below Bannar. The relief that Reyna felt allowed her to momentarily forget the urgency of her situation and the gravity of her condition. For a second, her legs faltered, and she nearly fell. Steadying herself again, Reyna urged the remaining townspeople to hurry on. Her internal struggle to remain conscious and had become truly intense.
“Soldiers! They’ve found us and are heading this way!” hissed Weiss as he sprinted back from his station. “It won’t be long now!”
Reyna gripped at the staff in her hands. You are right in more ways than one, Weiss of Fellane. She drew a strengthening breath and made her way out from the fountain toward the unhurt Ro’Nihn from the Fellane clans. Reyna found that somehow, the strength of her legs was returning. Still, Reyna used her staff for support, ever ready for the moment that her legs betrayed her. She knew inwardly that once she fell, there would be no getting back up again.
Reyna took her right hand from her staff and placed it on Weiss’s shoulder for support as she addressed the younger warrior. “How many?” she asked. And while Reyna was only 32, her voice sounded beyond her youth.
Weiss of the Fellane put a steady hand under her arm, ready for the moment she might slip. Reyna had once wondered how deep the feelings of this warrior ran for her. Looking into his eyes in that moment made her wonder no more. His scrutiny through the dusty earthen colors of the Fellane bloodline conveyed an honest love never brought to light before. Taking off his mask and wiping at lingering sweat, his voice was a shadow compared to hers. “A hundred or so, converging on this spot. We’re out of time, Reyna. Let’s get you below. There’s nothing more that we can do here,” he said.
Reyna looked at the other two remaining Ro’Nihn from her home of Axiter, her childhood friends Gusser of the Redgrove and Arnen of the Essant. Like Weiss, she had known them for as long as she could draw remembrance. As the last of the townfolk and their defenders disappeared into the darkness, Reyna nodded to Gusser and Arnen solemnly as she replied. “You’re right, Weiss. Lead the way.”
A glimmer of relief whispered through the eyes of Weiss. Never taking his hand from Reyna, he led her to the passage stairs. He would see to her and use all of his knowledge to save the blood and life that still coursed through her veins. And if they made it out of this alive, he vowed to tell her all the things that had remained hidden for far too long. Whether she felt the same or not, he would still lay it all out in front of her. He understood now that life was far too fragile and precious to wait.
But Weiss of the Fellane would never get that chance.
As Thorne soldiers amassed at the end of the street, Reyna executed the duty she had already resigned herself to in her heart. Though slowly dying, her movements were still swift and deliberate. Taking her staff in both hands she drove it into the back of the unsuspecting Weiss. Before he could act, she had pushed him forward, taking him face first into the ground. With his mask still resting on the fountain bed, the horrified surprise upon his face was easily revealed. As stragglers watched in horror, she drew her knife in hand. Not a moment was wasted as she took the dagger and plunged it downwards toward Weiss.
Reyna’s mark was true. The dagger connected with the ground, the blade sinking almost completely into the floor. On its way down, it had acquired a strap on the pack that Weiss was wearing. He was now effectively latched to the ground, at least momentarily. Reyna r
ose again and headed up the stairs. As she did so, she struck the inside switch of the passageway before smashing it. There was the distinct rumbling sound of the passage doors grinding shut once again. Reyna made her way back out into the chaos of the night.
Weiss struggled to reach the knife that pinned him. He could work himself free, and it would only take a few seconds. However, those seconds were all that was needed to seal him away from his fellow Ro’Nihn. “Reyna, what are you doing? Reyna, no! Why would you do this to me? Reyna!”
Reyna watched impassively as Weiss freed himself from the knife. He was to his feet quickly and possessed great speed, but it was too late. He would never make it through the closing passage, and they both knew it. She spoke to him as he frantically pushed up the stairs. “We need a warrior to protect those survivors. I chose you Weiss. See that they are safe and we will make sure they cannot follow.”
Weiss made it to the top of the stairwell. Even so, he knew there was no time or space to get through. All he could do was desperately get his hand out to where Reyna now knelt. For a brief second his hand touched her mask and her chin, feeling her warm skin as it chilled him. Her eyes looked serene, accepting as she took his hand into hers. Locks of her sweat-drenched hair tickled at his wrist as she softly kissed his fingers. Slowly, she moved his hand back beyond the closing doors before letting go.
There was only a moment or two remaining. Their eyes met again for a final time. Reyna watched as Weiss tried futilely to break the horror and silence that controlled him utterly. “Goodbye, Weiss,” she whispered.
“Reyna!” He called her name repeatedly as the doors closed. He could hear the waters returning to the fountain. With his forearms and fists, Weiss beat at the passage door that kept him from his comrades. The futility occurred to him as tears flowed freely down his face, mingling with dirt and overwhelming grief.
Ashener's Calling Page 29
