Echoes

by Honor Raconteur

  I glared right back at him. “You sent me into battle while thinking it was nothing more than an excavation. We lost sixteen people because I’m not superhuman, I can’t defeat everything that comes at me, especially when I don’t know there’s danger to begin with! Did you really hire me for this job thinking that I would just take the monsters on for you?”

  The smug look on Ballantine’s face made me want to punch the CEO right in the nose. “But you did fight them off.”

  An audible snap went through the room. I thought for a second it was my temper until I realized that Vaughn’s grip on his armchair had snapped the wood in half. He glared hot enough to melt steel. The CEO’s smugness faltered, and his lawyer hastily jumped in before it really did become a fight.

  “I think the point that Mr. Ballatine is trying to make is that while there was some danger to the population of Mountain Point, there is benefit as well. You were able to destroy a good number of the cenebre in the area, meaning that part of the nest is now cleared out. It wouldn’t take much more effort to continue the job—”

  I could not believe my ears. They were negotiating us finishing the tunnel? WERE THEY OUT OF THEIR EVER-LOVING MINDS?! My mouth fished for words, my reaction so emotional I couldn’t form a complete sentence that didn’t begin and end with swear words. Where was Bannen when I needed him. He could swear a man into a quivering mess when he put his mind to it.

  Vee slammed both hands against the table as she stood, thundering at them, “You rank, stuffed cloak-bag of guts, I’d beat you if it wouldn’t infect my hands!”

  Then again, I had Vee, and she could swear like a sailor. I grinned at her, silently cheering her on. Get ’em, Vee!

  “I can’t decide if you’re a flesh-monger, a fool, or general collection of clay-brained deformities. You sent my sister-agent in there with nothing for backup except her husband-familiar, put us in a dangerous situation where we barely were able to rest, doing nothing but fighting for forty-eight hours straight, and then demand that we go back in there and finish the job?! Your sin isn’t accidental, but a trade, is that what you think?!”

  Arco tapped a hand on the table’s surface, and the expression on her face promised legal pain. “I must say that I agree with Agent Franklocke. Gentlemen, let’s be clear on this—this isn’t a negotiation for a breach of contract for a job not completed. It’s a breach of ethical responsibility and negligence in said contract, a violation committed on your side. You violated the good faith clause in Gargan by not securing either the appropriate protections for Mountain Point or advising the government in Gargan of your intentions. There is no, absolutely NO, possibility of you getting the bypass into Gargan. Cloudland Mountain is off-limits.”

  Ballantine shared a glance with his VP and it was clear that was not the answer they wanted. Ballatine tried again. “But surely the Gargan Council and the MISD can see the benefits—”

  “What benefits?” Salvatore demanded.

  At the same time, Vaughn growled, “No benefits to be had.”

  The men paused, blinked at each other, gestured for the other to go ahead. Salvatore gave Vaughn a nod and continued with his point. “We’ll need to station MISD agents round the clock for the foreseeable future to make sure that the cenebre stay in their mountain. You are going to cost me manpower that I can ill-afford, not to mention the fees of housing that it will cost to station them there. Just safeguarding the town will cost us. There’s no question of us being able to protect the entire bypass line if it was completed—it would be entirely impossible.”

  “And doing that would open all of Gargan to attack,” Vaughn pitched in. From the expression on his face, he willed lightning to hit the men of the Greenway Railroad Company. Either for enlightenment or destruction, he didn’t care which. “My people already fought the battle with the cenebre once, we’ve no desire to do it again. It cost us dearly enough the first time. You do not have permission to build in Gargan.”

  Ballantine blanched at that, as well he should. Vaughn was an Elder on the Council, his word was law, and he could speak for all of them if the occasion demanded it. He’d told me as much on the way down, that he had permission to speak for the entire Council if it meant stopping anyone else from poking at the cenebre’s nest. I didn’t think he’d actually be forced to do that, but stupidity and greed knew no bounds. “It’s a moot point, anyway, we had to close the tunnel to get the cenebre to stop attacking us. There’s no way that anyone can touch that mountain without life and death consequences.”

  “We are discussing,” Arco reiterated with a scolding look at the men, “how much the payout will be for the damage your negligence caused. The possibility of finishing the project is off the table.”

  I silently promised them that if one more word passed anyone’s lips about finishing that tunnel, I’d start smacking heads together. Or turning them bald. They really shouldn’t upset an already angry mage. That led to short life expectancies.

  “If you want to have the MISD’s aid in the future—” Salvatore started.

  “—or do business again in Gargan—” Vaughn pitched in, voice a low rumble like an incoming storm.

  “—you’ll start by paying for the mistake you’ve made,” Arco finished, completely in sync with the other two men.

  VP, CEO, and lawyer all exchanged looks and sighed, resigned.

  That’s right, you mammering, shard-borne scuts. Paying for people’s deaths wasn’t the best retribution, but it was a good start to the damage they’d done, and I wasn’t leaving this room until they’d paid dearly for it.

  I’d often claimed that if a government wanted to straighten out their budget, all they had to do was put my wife in charge of it. Everyone thought I was kidding until the mediation between Greenway Railroad Company and the MISD. Rena managed to get millions in retribution for damages. The mediator was so impressed that she’d offered Rena a job on the spot. I think if my wife hadn’t already been a highly sought-after Void Mage, she might have taken that job offer.

  With that settled, we went to Turransky and dropped Dag off with Mary, which went rather well. Of course, that might have something to do with the arsenal that Gill had waiting for the kid. Dag took one look at all of the sharp, pointy things lined up on the bed and just about fainted with excitement. Mary, for her part, seemed happy to have someone in the house to train and fuss over. We gratefully left a hyperactive boy in her care and, without any guilt whatsoever, returned to HQ in Foxboro.

  I might end up missing the rascal, but we’d see him once a year when we took him home to see his family. It would be an adventure in and of itself seeing him grow up. I really was curious what he’d be like as an adult. Hopefully as terrifying as Rena. The world needed more people like her.

  The bed and breakfast here was fast becoming a second home with all of the time we spent in it. Rena barely did more than throw her bag inside our room before announcing she was headed for the bath, which I translated to mean she wanted three hours of uninterrupted alone time. She even took a book in with her.

  I wanted company and to catch up with people, so I wandered back down to the dining room, following the sound of voices. Chi, Maksohm, and some other male voice I didn’t know.

  “—I’m fine,” Chi insisted, not at the top of his lungs, but getting there. “There’s absolutely no need to do go to therapy. Just get someone to sign me off.”

  Because of everything that had gone down in the past two months, I’d forgotten a little detail. A minor, inconsequential thing. Therapy. Sards, we still had that hanging over our heads, didn’t we?

  “Chi,” that unfamiliar voice said in exasperation. “Son. You’re not superhuman and we don’t expect you to be. What happened to you as a child would shake anyone up. I’ve tried to get you proper help for years. Why are you ducking this so hard?”

  “Bannen’s been through worse and he won’t go either,” Chi retorted.

  Way to throw me under the bus, man. I debated actually entering that l
ast foot which would put me in view, because did I really want to get in the middle of this? I mean, I was all for helping a friend, but I think Chi was on his own here. The last time I tried to help, I got dragged in too.

  A step behind me had me whirling, but not fast enough. Vee could move like a cat when she wanted to. Latching an arm around my waist, she hauled me down, announcing as she moved off the stairs, “Caught the other one!”

  “Vee, don’t be mean,” I whined at her, squirming. “Put me down.”

  She ignored me. She was good at that. Probably lots of practice in dealing with Chi.

  I got plopped into a chair at the dining room table like an unruly toddler, which smarted. I glared up at her, then Maksohm, because therapy? I knew I needed it, I had things to sort out if I was to properly protect my wife, but today? Not on my to-do list.

  Maksohm lifted both hands in a placating gesture. “Not a new therapist this time. I found two people that I think you can actually talk to. These two are veterans, ones from the MISD, who have retired and turned into counselors. I had to schedule them far in advance, and the director leaned on them a little to squeeze you two in. Trust me, these two will get it.”

  “I’m reserving judgment on that.”

  “Son,” the man I didn’t know glared down at Chi as if he were being difficult just for the sake of it.

  Chi glared right back. “Dad.”

  Wait, so this was Chi’s adoptive father? He looked more dignified than I’d expected, or maybe it was the greying hair and the close-cropped salt and pepper beard that gave that impression. This was Ensign Franklocke, huh?

  Sensing my regard, he turned and gave me a quick grin. “You must be Bannen Hach. Pleasure. I’m Ensign Franklocke, this one’s father.”

  “Yes, sir, I know who you are. Nice to meet you too.” Then I realized why he must be here, and turned a glare on Maksohm. Pulling in the father to make Chi behave? Now that was low.

  Maksohm, well able to read my face, defended himself mildly, “If you two would just cooperate, I wouldn’t have to pull such tricks. Chi, at the very least, can’t you talk to your father about all of this?”

  My friend muttered something that might, possibly, in another life, could have been a yes.

  Maneuvering around the table, Vee came to kneel next to Chi’s chair. She leaned in to kiss him softly, her hand cradling his cheek as she said softly, “Honey, I want you to be at peace. I want you to be able to rest. If that required slaying a dragon, or finding some mythical plant to turn into a medicine, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

  Chi shrugged and grumbled, “That’s ’cause I could shoot it and be done. I don’t want to talk to anyone but you.”

  “And I’d love to help you with this, but you’ve already told me everything, and I don’t know how to help. I can’t fix this for you.” Vee held his eyes, steadily, not backing down.

  That moment felt intimate, like I saw a side of their relationship that normally happened behind closed doors. I almost looked away but something about them compelled me to watch.

  Her sincerity undid his stubbornness, and with a sigh, Chi capitulated, “Fine. I’ll go. When?”

  “Now,” Maksohm answered with a victorious smile. “Ensign knows where to go, just follow him.”

  Sighing, Chi pulled himself out of his chair and shot me an analyst’s salute, a silent good luck.

  I’d need it too. Sards, with him going, that only left one target: me. I glared at Maksohm because while I agreed with him, I didn’t like to be forced into it. That was a disaster last time. I reserved the right to choose my own therapist.

  “Your counselor is waiting for you at the bar next door,” Maksohm informed me, a smug tweak to his mouth.

  Bar? “Wait, alcohol is involved with this session?”

  “Rena said you’re more likely to talk if alcohol is involved.”

  Well, she had me there. I still wasn’t sure about letting him choose yet another therapist for me. What happened if I didn’t like this one either? Although Maksohm had probably been more careful selecting the second one.

  If nothing else, I supposed it was worth going for a free drink. Still suspicious—there was a catch in there somewhere, I just couldn’t put my finger on it—I responded, “Fine. I’ll go. Who is he?”

  “She,” Maksohm corrected with an amused quirk of the brow, “is Kate Townsend.”

  Still ambivalent about how this was working out (because I got this feeling I’d been tricked), I left the bed and breakfast through the front door and went immediately to the left, where the bar sat. I’d been in there a few times with the team, as it’s a nice place with warm wooden beams and floors, pleasant vintage alcohol, and good snack food. Wandering inside, I noticed that there weren’t many people inside—nor should there be at this hour. It was barely mid-afternoon, the evening crowd hours away from coming in. The lone woman in the bar sat at a middle table, a pint of something in her hand and a plate of fried crisps in the center. She spied me and took a quick sweep with her eyes. I did the same. Retired, yes, I could see that in the lines of her face and the gray at her temples, but nothing about the woman was soft. She was all hard angles and planes, only her brown eyes showing any warmth.

  She reminded me, strongly, of the women that had raised and trained me. Perhaps because of that, I liked the initial impression she gave me, and I wasn’t as on guard with her. Making my way to the table, I held out a hand, which she stood to clasp strongly. “Bannen Hach.”

  “Kate Townsend. Well, sit. What will you have?”

  “Ale’s fine.”

  Townsend called out an order for me, sitting as I did. I think she was surprised to see me here, and I was just as surprised to be here. This was not how I’d foreseen the day going. Did Maksohm choose this woman knowing that I’d do better with someone that reminded me of the women at home? It seemed like something he’d do. My team leader was clever that way.

  The ale arrived and I took a sip, pleased at the flavor. Good stuff here. I took a longer pull and licked my lips in satisfaction. “You’re not just going to sign me off.”

  “I don’t think you’re tipsy enough to start our session yet,” she responded, eyes crinkling up in humor.

  “Can’t argue.” I took another drink, as chatting idly with a new friend over a pint of fine ale was totally within my wheelhouse. I could be friendly as long as she wasn’t demanding I pull my heart open and bleed all over the table. If I liked her enough, I’d consider really talking to her, but I wasn’t making a snap judgement on this yet. “Just answer me a question. You know my history, right?”

  “I do. The whole list of things you’ve lived through in three years from being portaled to a different continent to fighting and surviving a battle with Toh’sellor—twice.” She sipped at her alcohol, eyes thoughtful as she watched me.

  “So tell me, what exactly does talking about it do? I know why it happened, I was mostly in control of myself for the bulk of it, so how does telling the story again do any of us any favors?”

  “Because you’re not telling me the story. You’re telling me what you experienced during the whole process and you don’t have to edit it for me. You can vent about it, you can say whatever you wish to, and in doing that, you can see the experience for what it really is. You can connect the trauma to your symptoms. When you understand the connection, that’s when you can see why you’re emotionally reacting the way you are, the cause of it, and manage those emotions better. Sometimes, all you really need is to understand why your brain is reacting the way it is, and then that fear and stress reaction can either fade with time or disappear altogether.”

  That made a lot more sense than ‘it feels better to talk about it,’ which was what I had gotten from everyone else. “So why is it different than talking to my wife about it?”

  “Bannen.” She looked me like a teacher would a particularly dense child. “You don’t tell your wife everything. You love her, don’t want to worry her, or upset her, so you au
tomatically censor yourself with her. In the best intentions, of course, but you do it anyway. Just as she censored herself to avoid worrying you.”

  Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the consequences of my own actions. She had me dead to rights there. The saying went that sometimes it was easier to talk to a complete stranger than a friend, and it was for exactly that reason—because there was no emotional investment there. No feelings to potentially hurt, no one to safeguard. I knew Rena sometimes bit her tongue around me. I did the same with her. In the best of intentions, of course, and sometimes that came back and bit us in the arse.

  “Besides,” she tacked on oh-so-innocently, “if you can manage your emotions and symptoms better, doesn’t that in turn help your wife? Through your familiar bond if nothing else?”

  In admiration, I breathed, “That’s evil. You’re evil. Are you really using my weak point against me?”

  “Is it working?”

  “Of course it’s working, that’s why you’re evil. There is absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for Rena if it would help her, the whole world knows that, otherwise I wouldn’t be bound to her. Twice over.” Maksohm was apparently more clever than I’d initially given him credit for. Of course he’d find a woman who could play me like a fiddle. I was either too sober or not drunk enough for the rest of this conversation, and I knew which way was the easiest one to go. I abruptly drained the pint, clipping it sharply against the table’s surface. “Alright, Townsend. I think I’m drunk enough. Let’s start this show.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Agent Maksohm warned me you’re a character. Alright, Bannen Hach, start from the beginning. How did it feel to be portaled from Z’gher to Corcoran?”

  “You’ve got time to start there? Really? Because that’ll take a full day to tell, and it’s already mid-afternoon, and it might be midnight before I can even get us out of Corcoran and into the Turransky part of the story.”

  She called out for more ale and eyed me in challenge. “Bar’s not going anywhere.”