Shrotru: Departure Episode 2 (Journey to Rehnor)

  Journey to Rehnor

  Departure – Episode 2

  Shrotru

  by

  J. Naomi Ay

  Published by Ayzenberg Inc.

  Copyright Ayzenberg, Inc. 2012- 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  070115

  Cover Design by Amy Jambor

  Cover Art by Depositphotos.com/diversepixel

  Also by J. Naomi Ay

  The Two Moons of Rehnor series

  The Boy who Lit up the Sky

  My Enemy's Son

  Of Blood and Angels

  Firestone Rings

  The Days of the Golden Moons

  Golden’s Quest

  Metamorphosis

  The Choice

  Treasure Hunt

  Space Chase

  Imperial Masquerade

  Rivalry

  Thirteen

  Betrayal

  Fairy Tales

  Gone for a Spin

  Journey to Rehnor Serial Episodes

  Departure -1- Kudisha

  Departure -2- Shrotru

  Departure 3 – Kirkut (Coming Feb 2015)

  Chapter 1

  Sheela had always loved the sea, having been raised with her brother on her father’s fishing boat. Sheela’s mother had left both the children and the marriage when the girl was too young to recall. In fact, her only memory of the mysterious woman was a pair of long legs striding across the room, as seen from the vantage of one sitting upon the floor.

  “She hated fish,” Torim said, offering this tiny tidbit of information about his estranged wife. Then, with a shrug and a long drag on the cig, which was perpetually perched upon his lip, he returned to his business of gutting, fileting, hauling, or off-loading.

  Considering how the boat was always filled with fish, about to be filled with fish, recently relieved of fish, but in any case, always smelling strongly of fish, Sheela could understand how her missing mother might have felt.

  However, Sheela didn’t hate fish. Rather, she enjoyed the pursuit of the elusive silver fins, and as a young girl, assured herself that her life on the high seas was far better than any other. Living in a city, going to a school where she would have to wear a dress and tight shoes, sit properly behind a desk, and spend all day doing sums or writing papers seemed equivalent to a sentence in some sort of Hell, or so she thought.

  Sheela’s brother, Viktor felt differently, and as soon as he was legally able, left the family pilot house to join the Royal Guard. Sheela missed him terribly, and although she loved her single parent with all her heart, she often found Torim’s conversation lacking. Her evenings sitting beside him jointly restringing fishing pots were less stimulating than her active teenage mind would have liked. But, she never said so. Her father’s happiness was foremost in Sheela’s mind, so any slivers of dissatisfaction, Sheela quickly pushed away.

  Sheela’s brother, Viktor proved to be an able guardsman, and his amiable personality won him many friends. This included another novice guardsman called Avner, who hailed from the capital city in the province of Shrotru.

  Avner and Viktor were as different as night and day. While Viktor was short and broad, with muscles as wide as Avner’s limbs, the other was tall and thin, with shoulders nearly the same breadth as Viktor’s neck. Viktor, raised on the fishing boat, had no formal education until the Royal Guard provided him with a pencil and a book. Avner had attended the finest prep schools in the land, and spoke with an accent that sounded like his voice emanated from his nose.

  Never the less, the young men found companionship in one another, as Viktor recognized a certain vulnerability in Avner’s bravado. When they both were given rifles and targets, Avner’s shots fell woefully short, or far askew. This prompted Viktor to take the other under his wide wing, making certain whenever a rifle was required, he was nearby to help Avner hold his rifle steady.

  Gratefully, Avner reciprocated by assisting Viktor in the difficult task of reading, as well as filling out the complex answers on his warfare training test sheets. Thus, the two young men bonded, and when they both graduated boot camp, requested to be assigned to the same platoon. This request was granted, however, their dreams of defending the nation of Karupatani were waylaid, as both men were shipped to the Duke of Shrotru’s estate for the purposes of guarding it.

  Avner was given daylight duty, on weekdays, between the hours of 1000 and 1500. Begrudgingly, he stood in the guard office at the front gate, checking passes and waving visitors inside. He never smiled as he did this, for Avner had been hoping for a posting somewhere near the front. The front of the war, that is, for the Kingdom of Karupatani was forever battling the enemy kingdom of Hahr. Avner imagined himself a great general, leading the decisive attack which precipitated the downfall of Hahr’s evil King, who had been warring with Karupatani, practically since time began.

  Viktor was assigned the nighttime hours, patrolling the electrified fence when all others were sleeping. He never minded this, as life on the fishing boat had prepared him to work whenever the fish were biting. Joyfully, he marched the perimeter, searching through the moonlight for breaks in the fencing, or holes dug beneath by Hahr’s spies. At each checkpoint, he proudly recorded the status in his log, pleased that he could now draw the letters and numbers with his pen.

  One night, while Viktor was surveying the outskirts of the estate, near the river which meandered down from the hills, he spied an odd figure floating towards the nearest shore. Immediately, he turned in that direction, and hurried to it.

  Viktor was afraid a member of the household had errantly stumbled upon the river’s edge, while too intoxicated to recognize the ran-swollen rapids. Despite the training which had prepared him for this exact event, Viktor was surprised to encounter a small battalion invading from Hahr. Under the cover of darkness, they had swam up river intent on capturing the resident duke, and stealing him away.

  Only Viktor’s quick arrival and the accuracy of his shot saved the hapless Duke and his family from certain death. Dispatching three of the intruders in due course, Viktor was then similarly slayed by the fourth, who upon recognizing his own vulnerability, turned and swam away.

  A messenger was needed to convey this terrible news to Viktor’s family, and so Avner was dispatched to the fishing boat by the sea.

  Sheela was surprised to see the young man approaching on the day that Torim was offloading their winter catch. Fish were everywhere, including the dock, the boat, the sea, in the girl’s hair, and all over her clothes. Despite this, the guardsman was struck by Sheela’s simple beauty, her fresh and sturdy peasant form combined with a shock of brilliant red hair.

  There was also a resemblance to her brother, who had the same striking hair and complexion, which Avner had found quite appealing, perhaps more so than he should have. Regardless, he delivered his message, which was accepted stoically by Torim, but hysterically by Sheela who screamed and wept all night.

  Wanting to help however he might, Avner suggested he take Sheela under his wing, and bring her back home to the Duke’s estate where she might recover. His intention was to help her acquire a position as a maid or at the very least, kitchen staff, or any other job where she might wear clothing not covered in dead fish.

  Avner had a bit of influence when it came to the manor house’s personnel. His mother, the Duchess doted on his every wish. Thus, she was happy to take the girl on, clean her up, cut and style her brilliant hair, dress her appropriately, and provide good cream for the child’s hands and face.

  Once done, Sheela’s beauty improved immensely. In fact, her pale skin was simply too fine to be polishing silver or ironing bedsheets.
Instead, she was given the task of inventorying the Duchess’s clothes, as well as her jewelry and other personal effects, such as hair combs. Sheela was also invited to dine with the family at the grand dinner table, which could seat forty, although only five chairs were occupied. Each evening, Avner came in from his guard duty to sup with his parents, and widowed Aunt Nell, who was overjoyed to welcome Sheela’s young face to their dining experience.

  Fortunately for all, one thing led to another, such that the two young people fell madly in love. Or, at the very least, Avner did. This was a great relief to the Duchess, who had silently harbored some suspicions about her son. The Duke was also inordinately pleased, and looked forward to a strapping grandson as robust as Sheela’s brother, Viktor had been.

  Sheela, in turn, was quite pleased to take up permanent residence in the manor house, her days of bunking aboard a boat long forgotten. She gladly traded in her dungarees, rubber boots, and heavy weatherproof coats for flowing silks, fluffy taffetas, and tiny pointed shoes. She also traded in her colloquial accent for the nasally, refined pronunciation of the upper class. In due course, no one would recall that Sheela hadn't been born into the privileged class, except Avner.

  Seventeen years later, having birthed three children for Avner, who had since left his position as a corporal with the Royal Guard to succeed his father as the Duke, Sheela was content in her life. She was a duchess of a wealthy ducal estate, regularly invited to the King's court for parties and parades, as well as a loyal and discreet member of the Queen's inner circle. There was even a contracted match between her daughter and the young prince. Granted, both boy and girl were still young preteens, so a wedding was still a dozen years away. Still, Sheela considered her life a success, and applauded herself for the transition she had made, even though her interest in Avner, and his in her, had long since abated.

  Unfortunately, Sheela's ideal world came to an end on the day the bombs began to fall. During the intervening years, the war between Karupatani and Hahr had not ceased, but rather, grew more intense, until the only recourse left to both was complete and total nuclear destruction.

  Chapter 2

  There were many things which Avner never wished for in this life, but had done solely out of duty. One of these was to enlist in the Royal Guard upon graduating from the university with a degree in ancient architecture.

  "Your studies are entirely worthless," his father, Duke de Shrotru had chortled. "And, I would expect nothing more from such a useless lad as you."

  Unfortunately, for both Avner and the elder Duke, there were no other lads, useless or worthwhile in the Shrotru household. The reason for this abhorrent lack of siblings in a noble family, which should have produced at least one other spare heir, was never discussed except in hushed whispers, which immediately silenced whenever young Avner's ears were present.

  The lack of a stronger and more robust sibling was keenly felt by Avner when he crossed the threshold from youth to man, and begrudgingly joined his almost-friend Karukan in donning the uniform of military service. Had he a brother, younger or older, the other might have dedicated his life to the pursuit of death, while Avner would have joyfully gone on to graduate school imagining buildings made of solid rocks or clay.

  Karukan de Kudisha, the younger brother of the king, was built more solidly than Avner, and enjoyed this advantage during their hellish boot camp. During the evenings, when Avner had finished his extra duties of cleaning toilet bowls with toothbrushes, or peeling enough potatoes for four hundred hungry men, he would collapse on the hard bunk next to the future king, while the other sat recording in his journals.

  Karukan was an odd fellow, even by Avner's standards. Devilishly handsome with thick black hair prone to curl, a noble brow, firm chin, broad shoulders, and long naturally thick muscles, the prince’s countenance shone brighter than the sun. Beside him, the poor, future duke was barely the flicker of a candle's flame, although the prince was generous and did not hold this against him.

  However, Karukan, as handsome and robust as he was, went through his exercises with no more effort than was required, and spent his evenings with his books, rather than in the local pub with two ladies upon his lap.

  "I am betrothed," the Prince would mumble absently, his pen scratching away, filling the pages with all of his musings. “To Lorena, daughter of the Duke of Tirkoop.”

  Avner respected this, for the Prince was loyal and honest above all, a trait that would most likely doom his future reign amongst the wily politicians.

  Sometimes, Avner would happen upon the fellow at a moment when the Prince would least expect it. Sometimes, it was in the shower, and others, while the Prince was patrolling the perimeter fence. More often than not, he would be speaking softly under his breath, as if in quiet conversation with an imaginary friend, or an advisor who couldn’t be seen.

  That Karukan is truly strange, Avner thought, although everyone else thought the same of him.

  Regardless, within weeks, Karukan and the others graduated, advancing to their next duty post. The prince went off to officer’s school, while Avner was held back in camp, having failed his final assessment in target shooting.

  “You ought to go home,” the commanding officer suggested kindly. “This man’s army is apparently no place for you.”

  Knowing how the Duke would become enraged should Avner show up at home sans rank or uniform, the young man insisted that he might attempt this boot camp thing again.

  Knowing how the Duke would become enraged, and demand the commanding officer’s resignation should his only and precious son fail to be commissioned, the commanding officer relented and allowed Avner to enroll again. It was during that next attempt, while immersed in a giant pool of unpeeled potatoes that the would-be duke became acquainted with the newly recruited Viktor, Sheela’s brother, who had failed his basic reading test.

  Now, many years later, as Avner watched his wife scurry about the manor house stuffing as many useless items in her bag as she could manage, he considered how much fonder he had been of Viktor. How nice would it have been if his sex had been reversed, for Viktor would have made a better duke, and Avner, would have excelled at being a duchess.

  It wasn’t a sexual thing at all, for in truth, Avner regarded copulation as a necessary evil, albeit somewhat pleasant. Never the less, he had done his duty and begat an heir and spare. Then, the third one had appeared as if from nowhere for Avner could not recall his advent, although he didn’t question Sheela’s fidelity for a moment. The child, Lot took after him in every way, as if he were a smaller carbon copy of Avner’s genetic code. His demeanor was overly timid, his shoulder’s slumped, and his eyes wary and always wet, earning the consternation of his mother, just as Avner, before him had done.

  As for Karukan, who became the king around the same time as Avner acceded to the duchy, the almost-friendship between the pair still remained. Avner sat on the Privy Council, and attended all parliamentary meetings, while offering only as much advise as the king requested. The King, it seemed, was counseled by another, although none of the Council could ascertain who exactly this was. Queen Lorena had not much of intellect, and the Lord Chamberlain, Lord Wooter was both dutiful and jovial, but declined to advise knowing well his own limitations.

  Yet, in this instance, the one which faced them now, Avner had swallowed his timidity and sought the King’s office to speak forthright and express his reservations. Dismissively, Karukan had waved him away, although, not before providing the Duke with a drink.

  “I value your friendship immensely, Avner,” Karukan had said, touching his glass to the Duke’s. “However, the decision has already been made. Should Markiis Kalila cross the line that I have drawn, retaliation shall be our only recourse.”

  “But, you shall kill everyone,” Avner had insisted, although firstly, he swallowed his drink, so that the burning liquid in his throat might cement his resolve. “Both of Karupatani and Hahr. Surely, the civilians are not guilty of the crimes committed by t
heir masters?”

  The King snorted, and proceeded to pour himself another.

  “We aren’t prepared,” Avner continued, also proffering his glass for another splash. “Unlike the Saintists, we have not built domed shelters, or made any other contingency plans. Our own people shall perish. Knowing so, how can you permit this?”

  “I don’t have a choice,” Karukan snapped suddenly, slamming his glass down upon his shiny walnut table top. “Can’t you see my hand is being directed by another? I am at the mercy of another’s command.”

  “Who?”

  The King turned his back, swiveling about in his fancy chair, dismissing Avner and his unfinished libations. Avner bowed dutifully, and left his almost-friend, and lord alone with his bottle and imaginary advisor, such as he was.

  At this moment, Avner stood in his very own foyer after Karukan’s final line had been crossed. The worst recourse was about to be imminently enacted. The most horrific nightmare was about to unfold, and nothing or no one could stop the King, save his invisible friend.

  “Are they coming?” Sheela asked, dropping her bag in the front hall, very nearly on Avner’s feet, perhaps, on purpose.

  “I expect so.” The Duke glanced outside at the still blue sky, at the birds flying across his fields of new spring wheat, at a normal peaceful day that was about to become unlike any other.

  Chapter 3

  Reva de Shrotru sat in the window box of her bedroom, and stared out at the fields. If she squinted her eyes to the point where they were very nearly closed, she could catch a glimpse of her spotted pony in the near pasture. Placidly, the little mare stood nibbling on the fresh spring grass shooting up between the fence rails, tossing her tail at the early spring flies. Behind her, the blossoms on the old apple tree were just coming into bloom, tiny red flowers that portended a healthy crop of enormous red apples.