Record of Ashes War

Chapter 24 - Alcor Ashes

Kalin was relieved the conversation had progressed as smoothly as it did. He'd half expected Sar'tara to antagonize him. Her silent thank you made him smile. He thought his final words to be cliché and too storybook like. It was a tad embarrassing to think about.

Meredith was pacing outside the tent. She blinked a few times, surprised to see Sar'tara following after him. "Get her a spare cloak," Kalin said. "A heavy one, preferably. Come find me at the command tent."

The physic nodded and scrambled off. Sar'tara opened her mouth to call out but then closed it. She was smart enough to understand the hierarchy in power. She followed him through the encampment, staying beside him rather than behind. He could sense her unease at being surrounded by so many soldiers.

"They all listen to you?" she asked, rubbing her bare arms.

"Yes."

"But some of them look to be older than you."

"Age does not determine authority among us. That is something determined by birth. Or, you can work to attain a higher position."

She nodded, fidgeting with her hands and glancing at everything.

Rask was waiting before the command tent dressed in mail and leather on top. One hand rested on the pommel of the longsword at his waist. "Your Grace," he said with a formal bow, his voice deeper than usual as if he had only just awoken. "A young captain by the name Faren has set out. Under your orders I presume?"

Kalin nodded. Sar'tara made a point of keeping him between her and Rask at all times. Rask noticed her discomfort and stepped further away. "Get her a bow—" Kalin glanced at her arms, "shortbow should do for now. Mid-sized, perhaps between forty and sixty pound draw weight. Are there any other weapons you can use?" he asked, turning to her.

"Knives," said Sar'tara. She eyed the blade at Rask's waist. "Can I have a sword as well?"

"Can you use one?"

"Yes," she responded fiercely, nodding at the same time.

Kalin narrowed his eyes, doubting those words. Where would she have learned anyway? "Get her a pair of sharpened daggers that the soldiers carry. We'll worry about a sword later. Get me two hundred fast riders to set out immediately. We're going to investigate the remains of the forest. Keep the camp in order and be wary of Tarmia's movements while I'm gone."

Rask nodded and turned away.

Kalin entered his tent and put on his appropriate attire all while Sar'tara waited near the entrance. Meredith came along and wrapped a cloak around her shoulders. Her eyes glowed when receiving the object, lips curling up while feeling the cloak with her hands. "It’s a little rough on the skin," Sar'tara said. "But warm. Quite."

He nodded in return. It was heartwarming to watch her learn more and react to small things with such enthusiasm. A foot soldier came by and dropped off the necessary arms for her. She sucked in a breath, her chest puffing out. Sar'tara straightened her shoulders as if finding a surge of confidence from the weapons. Her slender fingers ran along the bend of her bow as if it were a shy maiden. She tested the string and then inspected the knot before strapping the bow and a quiver full of arrows to her back. Her hands worked with a timeless experience, everything being equipped in mere seconds. Then she inspected the daggers, satisfied, sheathed them again and tried tying the belt to her leg, struggling noticeably.

"Around your waist," Kalin said as he approached to show her how. He flinched as her hands left the belt and she let him do all the work instead. He felt discomfort, staring at a woman's bare belly as he reached around her waist to tighten the belt. He looked up at her face instead. An even worse mistake. Kalin lost himself in her forest green eyes and her subtle, shy smile. An embodiment of a sunlit morning beneath lush trees. The belt slipped from his fingers and rolled down her waist, getting stuck around her lean thighs.

Sar'tara cocked her head to the side. "You don't know how?"

"They slipped, sorry." He turned away and waited for her to bring the belt back to waist level. She continued staring at him. She was waiting for him to pick up the belt. Kalin coughed. "Um, could you, you know…"

"Oh," Sar'tara said in confused confirmation. She lifted the belt back and he bound it properly this time, working his hands fast. "Your people have strange customs, Kalin Serene."

"More a matter of modesty than custom," he mumbled, painfully aware of the color in his cheeks. He was certain they were akin to beacons against his fair skin. He wondered what the forest woman was thinking of him.

Sar'tara grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to turn back towards her. She put a hand to his forehead. "You face is colored. Are you unwell? Is it the cold?"

Kalin's mind screamed at him to back away. His legs stood still, disobeying. He knew his face was growing even hotter by the second. He eventually found the courage to swat her hand away. "It's nothing," he said, bringing back the stone face he so often wore. Only after storming past her did he realize that he may have hurt her. He did not have the courage to apologize. And he hated himself for it.

Two-hundred mounts were prepared on the outskirts of the encampment as requested. Rask selected the men that would be attending the investigation party. They awaited their leader. Sar'tara continued to walk alongside Kalin, making no mention of his earlier behaviour. She kept stealing glances, he realized. Is she still curious for my wellbeing? Her attention suddenly turned toward the investigation contingent, eyes lighting up. "Are those horses? Real horses? Do I get my own?" A childlike reaction. One that could only be described as adorable.

"… No. Riding without knowing how is dangerous. You'll be riding with me," he replied, regretting those words as soon as they left his mouth. The last thing he needed in that moment was for her to have her arms around him. Though, a part of him did want that.

The sun had yet to rise completely. Kalin helped Sar'tara onto his grey horse. A curious smile remained on her lips as she swayed back and forth, inspecting both sides of the war beast. He mounted the steed. "Keep your arms around me," he said. "Move out!"

***

Sar'tara held the man as if she were embracing her own Mother. She feared falling off and being trampled by the riders behind Kalin. She couldn't fathom how it was that people had gained the loyalty of animals. Riding itself was a strange feeling. Moving without moving her legs. There was also the feeling of constantly going up and down. It wasn't as comfortable and free as she had imagined. The landscape passed her by in a blur. Staring at the ground instead of looking forward induced a nausea. Sar'tara rested her chin on Kalin's shoulder. His face felt hot against the side of her own. He had seemed offended when she asked if he was well. She thought it a matter of hierarchy amongst plains dwellers. "Please don't push yourself if you are unwell," she whispered, still worrying.

He seemed further discomforted. He tilted his head to the side to avoid touching her. Sar'tara felt a slight guilt. The customs of plains dwellers were difficult to understand.

She tried closing her eyes and enjoying the wind passing through her hair. Her breath caught at the edge of her chest. The sound of thundering hooves was too similar to that of heavy boots chasing after her. The burning scene replayed in her mind. Kill her voices shouted. Sar'tara's eyes snapped open, her arms squeezing Kalin's waist. Her mouth opened. Turn back she almost said. She didn't want to see the remains of her home. Didn't want to know that it was gone. She was more content believing the forest still existed, was still as beautiful as it had always been.

The sun was well into the sky when her home came into view. She unknowingly let out a surprised gasp upon seeing the charred remains. Tears clouded her vision. The Papillion Forest had been near leveled to the ground. All that remained of her memory were cracked stumps and charred black pillars with not a branch or leaf attached. Accompanying it was the bitter smell of ash. Kalin ordered the contingent to halt. He sent a few riders away to survey the surroundings for enemies. Sar'tara jumped off the grey horse quickly, stumbling as her feet hit the ground. The rest of the soldiers dismounted in an orderly fashion.

"Search for survivors. Enemies, and tribeswomen alike," the duke ordered.

Sar'tara sprinted forward, not caring for who or what she was stepping over. Her bare feet blackened as it stormed through the dark mess. Her mind was entirely blank. No sign of the Vashiri villages remained. Blackened bodies beyond recognition were scattered here and there, often in clusters. She was dimly aware of Kalin running after her, shouting. Every step she took caused a crunch beneath her feet. One thing stood out amongst the ashen remains. The thick and tall trunk of Lorian a few miles out. Mother…

Sar'tara couldn't believe it. Had Ny'Danis, the most powerful being she'd ever known, really been slain? She wanted to see her Mother again. Wanted to give Ny'Danis a chance to explain herself. If anyone knew what to do, it would be her. If anyone could hold Sar'tara and comfort her pained chest, it would be her Mother.

Or she would stick her hand through it to end the pain entirely.

Sar'tara was in a trance, running and stumbling towards the mother tree. Her breaths were labored. Her arms, weighted. She heard heavy crunching footsteps behind her. Chasing her. Sar'tara cried. Screamed. She was brought back to that night. Her vision clouded, her body exhausted. Everything was burning. Everything was hot. Fires surrounded her.

"Sar'tara!" a voice called behind her. The voice of a man. They knew her name. They were out to kill her. Kill everyone she knew and loved. She kept running as they chased her. Kept running towards her Mother's grove. Ny'Danis, protect me!

But it wasn't to be. She reached her Mother's grove. No trees remained. No flowers. No lovely scents. No humming voices or songs. No naiads or dryads laughing along. The shallow stream running through the grove was filled with dark debris. Small footprints lay scattered around the mother tree. Sar'tara knew well that they belonged to nymphs. Nymphs that she was never fond of but now was missing so terribly. She longed to see their precious smiles, their childlike expressions and actions, their annoyingly redundant way of speaking. There was none of that. No one greeted her. No one begged her to come play with them. Nothing surrounded her. Nothing save for ash and dust.

"Mother…" she breathed, limping towards Lorian. Half its branches had burnt and fallen. Its leaves and many fruit, nonexistent. The beautiful brown of the tree itself was black —some parts charred, others marred with soot. Sar'tara fell to her knees before the mother tree. Her hands dragged along the rough surface of tree bark. She wailed aloud. Realization hit her again, this time with more force. She refused to believe it whilst held at Kalin's camp. She had clung to a small and desperate hope. But everything she had loved and known was truly gone, leaving her all alone.

Sar'tara

"Mother! Where…?" Sar'tara looked around wildly.

I am here no longer, my beloved daughter. I thought I felt a pair of flickering lives escape the fires. I'm glad it was you. I held onto my conscience for so many days, unsure if you would return.

"Mother… I'm sorry. I finally became a Guardian. But… all I did was run."

No, child. You survived. The last of the Vashiri. The last of my daughters. My blood. I am the one who should be sorry. This… all this was a mistake of my own. If only I'd intervened in the wars of my children. Perhaps if I'd left the forest more often. Perhaps if I hadn't secluded myself here… If I hadn't killed my own daughters… I'm so sorry, Sar'tara. I'm sorry you had to see that side of me. I'm sorry I betrayed everything you thought of me.

Kiali was not the first to fall at my hand. All this time, I feared the past. Feared that one day, my daughters would make the same mistake I did long ago. In the end, that fear drove me to making even harsher mistakes. I loved all of you —every one of my daughters that I gave birth to.

But now, I think I lied to myself. A real mother would never do such things. The very same darkness that I helped vanquish long ago exposed the seed of darkness within my own heart. I wanted my daughters to be strong. Strong enough to one day face what I knew was bound to return. I was blinded. I let you kill each other. I forced you to compete with each other, creating only a limited amount of animals for you to hunt… I knew no other methods for teaching you. I should have loved you all equally. I feared some would grow jealous of their fellow sisters. Not all of my daughters are capable of wielding my powers. So I constructed the Trials to weed out the unworthy. I… I am ashamed of myself.

Sar'tara wept. Ny'Danis gave no explanation. No words to put her worries to rest. Only a confession and an apology. Everything Sar'tara had known had all been wrong. "Mother… I…" Even still, Sar'tara missed her Mother. "You raised us. You gave us warmth. I don't know if I can forgive you. But I need you right now. Please. Please come back," she croaked.

I can't, Sar'tara. Listen to me. I don't have much longer. I… Don't chase after our enemies. Even now, it weighs on my fading conscience to tell you this. The wicked desires of people can only be restrained for so long. Ages come and go. No age is free of strife. But you need not let the darkness of others swallow you. You need not face it at all. All your lives, I've tortured you. Tortured my daughters. Go and be free. Live for yourself. I hope that one day… one day you will forgive me for having wronged you. Live proudly as a Vashiri should, Sar'tara.

Live free? While those that had taken her home and family still breathed? "No, I…"

Farewell, my dear and beloved daughter.

Sar'tara continued crying. Lorian shimmered before her. For a moment, it was restored to its former beauty. And then it all faded. The massive trunk that still towered over her crumbled into dust. It mingled with the ashen remains of its surroundings, no longer seeming recognizable. Two peach pits remained where the tree once stood. The same two pits from the fruit she and Kiali had. The last remaining memory of Lorian and Ny'Danis. And Kiali. Sar'tara picked them up and gnawed at the edges of one. It was bitter beyond recognition.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder. She suddenly remembered being chased by armored men. Sar'tara wheeled around and scrambled backwards, kicking at whoever was there. She half expected to see an iron plate with the image of a sun carved into it.

It was just Kalin, with his short brown hair and eyes. He backed off, sensing her fright. She lunged towards her new pillar and held him by the waist, wailing. He placed a gentle hand on her head. It was just as warm as it'd been earlier. As warm as her Mother's hands used to be. He won't betray me, she convinced herself. The lonely child within her wanted someone to cling on to. Her adult mind didn't believe it fully. It was afraid of the plains dwellers and wanted to run from them, causing a conflicting weight to settle in her chest.

Kalin picked her up and carried her in his arms. It reminded her of being carried by Ny'Danis. She stared at the rough lines of the peach pits in her hands, imagining herself from before her memory of Ny'Danis became tainted. "If only you could fly…" she mused, sniffling.

Kalin looked down at her curiously. His face was still red. She gave him a weak smile. "Will you plant those?" he asked.

"I wish to."

"Then I can have them planted in my gardens at Metsiphon."

Sar'tara didn’t know where that was. "Mets-a-fawn," she echoed. It sounded like a nice place. "Alright." The sun had long since set by the time the two of them reached the outskirts of the burnt forest. All this time, Kalin had not once complained about carrying her. His face remained colored all the way. She felt bad for having let him carry her for a whole half day when he seemed unwell. "Thank you," she said when finally let down.

Some of the soldiers were whistling and saying strange things to which Kalin shot them a glare to force their silence. "Is everyone accounted for?" he asked. Torches had been lit though three moons —two halves and one a little more— shone bright. A headcount was done to make sure all two-hundred soldiers returned.

"Rider from the south!" someone shouted. Everyone's focus turned in that direction. "Armed!" the voice called. The men remained silent, half of them mounted, the other half preparing their mounts but keeping one hand on the hilts of their blades or fingers sliding along bow strings. Kalin tried pushing to the forefront, but his experienced men made sure they remained between him and this unknown rider.

"Sun upon the breastplate I think," someone else said.

"Union rat," the soldiers spat.

"Flames burn him!" others said.

"And burn that Lord Sun they so blindly worship!"

The word 'Union' echoed in Sar'tara's mind. She went on her toes for a better look just as the new rider stopped before the contingent and dismounted. Her hands closed but her breath also caught, anger and fear pulling on opposite ends. She recognized the sun carved into the man's iron armor and the star sky cloak he wore. She tugged the ends of Kalin's cloak. Her free hand reached for the daggers at her waist. Kalin motioned for her to remain behind him.

"Identify yourselves. Are you Empire legionaries or Xenarians?" the Union soldier asked. Kalin revealed himself to the man. "Are you the leader here?" he snarled.

A dozen lance tips ended just before the man's throat. He froze, blinking hard. "That's His Grace, Duke Serene to you, blind one," a soldier declared.

The man relaxed as if sensing his life to no longer be in danger. "I meant no disrespect, Your Grace," the man began. "If you're here, all the better. I was meant to deliver this to you anyway," he said, holding out a rolled cloth like object.

Kalin snatched it from him and unraveled it as the man stepped back, open palms in the air. The Xenarian soldiers shuffled, weapons still pointed. Sar'tara looked over Kalin's shoulder. She frowned at the dark markings upon the object, not making any sense of what it was. "A map?" he asked. "You deliver to me a map? Have your papers been mixed by any chance?"

"Not at all, grace. It is an updated map of Illusterra."

Kalin looked it over again. His eyes narrowed. His shoulders shook and his arms trembled. He exhaled through his teeth. "Who ordered this? No. Who gave you the rights to do this?"

"His Brilliance, the Lord Sun, of course. None but he has such authority."

"Do you understand the weight of your words, messenger?" Kalin hissed. "You say your lord has the rights to naming a territory within Xenarian borders? Alcor Ashes? You would name this forest that?"

"Indeed. It is best that what once was here, remains forgotten, Your Grace. Of course, the ashes will remain as a reminder to all darkspawn scattered across Illusterra. Or hadn't you heard? The Papillion Forest was home to witches and others of unsavory character and belief. Had there been any decent people residing within, they no longer exist now. Unfortunate collateral, though I doubt anyone decent did live here."

Kalin tore the map to pieces. Before throwing them away. He stepped aside, revealing Sar'tara entirely. "And what does a survivor of the forest have to say to this man?"

The messenger's eyes went wide again. He drew his blade. "Duke Serene! You give shelter to a witch?" he asked as his sword was raised above his head. An iron pommel struck his temple and forced him to the ground, his weaponry confiscated in mere seconds. Two soldiers each held one arm and a third tore his own shirt to gag the messenger's mouth.

Kalin drew his own sword. He gripped it by the blade and held it out to Sar'tara. "Meager justice for your people. They say vengeance is a fool's errand. I don't believe that for a second. Some of the greatest stories I read as a child were stories of vengeance. That is how our world runs. Vengeance and justice are two sides of the same coin. And without justice, our world is bleak and full of horrors. Whether you forgive him or not depends on you alone. I've only given you my opinion."

Sar'tara looked into the eyes of the man as he screamed through the gag. They were pleading. Moonlight seemed to sink into his dark pupils rather than bounce off. Tears began to well. At the same time, she felt her fingers wrap around the sword hilt offered to her. He was feeling fear. The same fear she had felt. She felt no remorse. He needed to die. Whoever else had burned her home, needed to die. The sword went up. Sar'tara closed her eyes. She remembered her Mother's words. Don't chase after our enemies. The sword came back down. Her fingers slipped from the hilt. It fell to the dew covered grass. "I can't," she said.

Kalin sighed. "Then you have a kind heart." He turned to his soldiers. "Be done with it. Strip him of his armor. Good iron is expensive. Burn the body and throw it into the ashes."

"No!" Sar'tara screamed. "I-I want you to let him go."

"Sara, that can't be done. He'll report back to the city. Bitter words aren't enough to start a fight over, but he's seen you now. They're going to come after you."

Sara? "I understand all of that. You've done more than enough for me, Kalin Serene. It is time I went my separate way now." Sar'tara needed the messenger alive. Needed to know where he would return. I'm sorry, Mother. I can't allow these people to live free. If not for us, then others they may choose to destroy as they did us. This is my will. My freedom.

"I promised to protect you! And the peach trees…"

"Some other time," she said, offering a worn smile. Her chest ached. She wanted to accept his generosity. But she also couldn't risk the pain of betrayal again. She needed to leave.

Kalin sighed. His shoulders slumped. He looked more disappointed than upset. Really disappointed. "Let him go," he ordered.

"But Your Grace," multiple soldiers cried in unison.

"Let him go!" he said again, dragging a finger along his throat and quickly gesturing towards the horizon. Sar'tara scratched her head, wondering what the gesture meant.

The soldiers did as they were told. The messenger, having regained the rights to control his own arms, snatched them away from those that held him. "This isn't over, Duke Serene. We burnt a forest and you could do nothing but slay a few dozen of us. His Brilliance has been seeking an excuse and now we have it. You've been seen harboring a darkspawn! It matters not if she leaves you now."

"A wiser man would save those words for after he has reached safety," Kalin said nonchalantly, crossing his arms. "I can still rescind the order, blind one."

"But you won't," the man mocked. His hateful glare passed over Sar'tara. "Kalin Serene, the wall around Xenaria. I see a crack in that wall." The man stormed off and mounted his horse.

Sar'tara could see the conflict in the Kalin's eyes. They contemplated killing the messenger right then. She could tell that a war was about to begin. A war had already occurred because of her actions once. She wasn't going to let it happen a second time. She wasn't going to let lives be lost due to her actions again. Sar'tara cupped Kalin's cheeks in both hands and kissed him on the forehead to show her gratitude. "Thank you a third time," she whispered. Don't leave, the child inside screamed.

She walked away in the same direction the Astral Union's messenger rode off towards. She nocked an arrow on her bow and aimed high, her experienced muscles measuring and estimating the strength and range of this new weapon. She waited for the rider to be away from the forest's borders. He didn't change directions. She had the information she needed. Twang! Sar'tara watched the arrow rise. Watched it soar through the night sky, whistling. Watched it descend. Then watched it pierce her target. What followed was a shrill cry. It was too far for the average person to see. But her hawk like vision saw it even within the darkness of the night. The arrow tip had gone through the back of the messenger.

The soldiers behind her whistled again, cheering as they saw the messenger fall off his horse. They praised her. The only person that didn’t was Kalin, his mouth agape. "I couldn't kill him in that moment," Sar'tara explained. "I will attain the justice that I seek. I know now the direction in which he was heading. The direction from where he came. I will hunt down the men of this Astral Union. I, Sar'tara Vashiri, vow to avenge my sisters and my Mother. Farewell, Kalin Serene. I… I might return one day, when I am finally free. When that happens, please take me to this Metsafawn place you mentioned."

He would surely offer his kindness again. Perhaps when she was done with her burdens, she could try making a new life for herself in this new world with Kalin as her friend. Try trusting others again.

Sar'tara frowned. He didn’t seem to be paying attention. He was still awestruck, his expression like that of a young Vashiri girl seeing her elder sisters in action for the first time. Sar'tara looked to the soldiers behind him. "What are you all doing? Good iron is expensive for your people, is it not? The kill is mine. Consider this a payment for all the help you have given me."

The huntress bowed. It only seemed appropriate. Then she turned away and walked into the night.