Dodge: Serial 61

Days later, Losha finds herself in the unknown.

Serial 61: Deep sleep dying

January 30th, 33 S.D. 02:11 Henron

    Darkness. I remembered darkness first of all, surrounding my body tightly. I could see, hear, and feel nothing save for the black bonds that overwhelmed me. Where was I? What had happened? My memory seemed to have escaped me. For all I knew, I had been thrown into an abyss some time ago. How long? Ages, mere seconds? By whom? I could but vaguely form these questions; my mind ran in addled thoughts. Everything was burdened by a sort of heaviness, as if depressed. It was only as I grew more and more aware did I realize I was somehow moving. I was going somewhere, going forward?

    By slivers, the void before me changed, splitting open like a box. Hues of gray swirled in front of me, racing downwards in a rain of straight-edged patterns. Blurred and distant initially, I could scarcely fathom whatever appeared before me. As the moments passed, however, my view became clearer. Tiles of some sort? No, square stones, bricks. As the image sharpened, I saw two forms dangling at the bottom edge of my vision. For an instant, an electric wave doused my heart. Unable to recognize these shapes, I mistook them for some undefined abomination. They were only my feet in reality. It soon struck me that I had been looking down at the floor the entire while. I was moving without walking?

    Though my limbs were perfectly numb, as if I had none at all, I managed to rear my head up. As if in a trance, the hallway I saw zoomed in and out, leaving angled afterimages scattered in the air. I blinked trying to make sense of it, yet I could perceive nothing other than a long and lightless path. As if having spent all of my energy already, my head hung back down. I simply allowed myself to float down the passage, traveling towards my unknown destination. I believed I would have soon returned to my slumber had I not heard something. It was a voice, a woman’s. No words reached my ears, just fragments of her sound, the long echo of a syllable. Too weak to search, I ignored her, yet she could not do the same with me.

    “... sha...” she said, warbled as if underwater. She seemed to slip past my left side, like a whisper. As familiar as her tone was to me I could not recall the speaker. Curious, I tried looking up again. This time I turned to my sides. There I saw two hooded figures close to me. Each had taken an arm of mine, throwing it over their shoulders. In this manner, they carried me through the hall. My neck titled forward as if oppressed. Were even these basic actions too taxing for my frail state? I nearly gave up from exhaustion when she breathed behind my ear.

    “Haa...” she exhaled. I turned back to my left. To my amazement, a pale silhouette slid beyond my periphery, just as my eyes spun around. It fled altogether once my gaze settled, however. “Losha...” she said, apparently from everywhere.

    Though I remained tired, I forced myself to locate her. Swooning back and forth, I fought my sight as it shifted at random. Nothing appeared straight or concrete. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of... something. Was it her? She kept bolting in and out of the picture, crossing its boundaries as if she were having a game of it. I could not track her down; I had no strength. Eventually though, she started to center herself in front of me.

    “You...” I said, my own voice ringing hoarsely. I coughed for a bit then looked directly at her. “You are... Suvla.”

    Suspended above the ground, much like our previous encounter, she hovered. Facing me a meter or so ahead, Suvla tilted her head and smiled. Her blind eyes shined brightly even amid the thick, pervasive dimness.

    “Why are you here?” I asked. “You... died. Sa?” Her smile widened as she folded her arms. “Wait... am I... dead too?”

    She tossed her head back as she laughed; the corridor remained silent though, as if she alone were all at once muted. With this, Suvla began to drift away from me, going further into the hallway. Gradually, her body was consumed by deep shadows until I could only see her face. Her lips were the last things to disappear, parting and closing in speechless words.

    “Wait... Wait! Suvla!” I rasped. How I wanted to cry, but my throat failed in that moment. Sharply, my escorts pivoted to the left where an open doorway stood. With a single heave, they threw me into the room. Before I really understood what was going on, I found myself pressed against... carpet? With a gasp, my eyes widened. The door behind me closed, slamming and shuddering its wooden frame. Strangely, I felt able to move on my own then. Slowly pushing myself up on all fours, I raised my head and examined the place.

    It was a rather small windowless chamber, perhaps Gandian in style? Faint orange gradients illuminated the walls as a single candle sat burning on a desk. I stood up and walked past several chairs. Behind the desk, a large bookcase occupied the entire length of one quarter. For whatever reason, only a sparse set of volumes populated its shelves. Even at a distance, I noted how frayed and worn the tomes had become, as if they would crumble at any passing glance. What titles seemed legible were written in a language I could hardly comprehend. The characters appeared reminiscent, however. Had I forgotten them somehow?

    A creaking noise startled my senses. Immediately, I whirled around. In the corner, far from the candle’s glow, an old woman sat in a rocking chair. Gently, she started pushing herself back and forth as she wrapped a blanket around. She had a mouth that pouted and a face weighed down by innumerable years. Segments of silver, stringy hair plopped off to either side. At first, she paid no attention to my presence, but eventually she looked up at me. With eyes like glass, she took me in from top to bottom. I gathered from her an aura of sadness, despondency. She blinked once and hard; I thought she was going to sob at that moment. Upon gazing up at me again, however, she looked past me and gave a slight nod.

    Puzzled, I looked back at the book case. Was there something there? I turned to the woman, but she nodded in the same fashion as if urging me towards the area. Inspecting things more carefully, I noticed a pile of documents spread across the desktop. When I next saw the old woman, she had pointed her head away from me and into the wall beside her. She did not seem especially conversational, so I left her by her lonesome as she steadily moved forward and back, forward and back.

    On the desk, handfuls of articles stacked up one after another, each yellow and stiff. A fine layer of dust coated the very top-most. Like the books, their script was indecipherable. Even so, the more I stared at them, the more I seemed to recognize them. I could not see individual words, but their meanings, their impressions surfaced, almost. I shuffled through loose papers, searching for... something. Nothing particularly grabbed my interest, chiefly because the texts made no sense to me. As I made my way down to the bottom, however, I came across a very odd piece.

    Sliding everything else aside, I uncovered an illustrated map. It depicted the world, or at least a different world than the one I knew. I took note of the Continent right away, but there were a number of unknown landmasses in the oceans, even another continent. I frowned as I picked it up, bringing it under closer inspection. Why would such a thing exist? The amount of work and detail put into the cartography was far too great to be someone else’s idle fantasy, like some of the fictional books I used to read.

    I gave the map another once-over, hoping to glean some clue about its creation, its purpose. The territories marked down were absolute gibberish, but the title drew me in for some reason. My eyes narrowed upon the characters. Sa, as I fixedly looked up at them, I gradually began to feel it click within me. Like a faded memory brought back from the edge of time and mind, I spontaneously spoke aloud the words.

    “The True World...” A fear leaped up into me, seizing my hands. I dropped the map as the old lady stopped rocking and squeaking. I could but stand there as my arms gave way. My chest welled up; I felt like crying at that very instant. I did not have an explanation. I was simply caught by a storm of despair pouring into me. Soon I collapsed to my knees, reeling back as I sank. Nevertheless, my mourning was not long, for she returned.

    “Losha!” Suvla said, coming from nowhere, yet behind me somehow. “Gone. All gone. Like us, gone.”

    Her many arms latched around me, pulling me back, dragging me into darkness. The room began to vanish; the candle quickly waned. I tried to say something, but one of her hands covered my mouth.

    “Shh, shh! Quiet, quiet...” she murmured as I gravitated into deeper depths. Soon, there was nothing around me, at least nothing I could see. Without the slightest warning, Suvla released me. As if I were inside of an endless hole, I fell down, rapidly, haphazardly, twirling about with no control. Faster and faster I rushed, heading into the empty, desolate pit. However, just as soon as my perilous dive had begun, so too did it abruptly halt.

    My hands yanked themselves up above my head, fitting together closely at the wrists. All motion came to a standstill after I bounced up and down for a while. My arms felt sore; I barely believed they had remained attached. It seemed they were holding me from falling anymore. Evidently my environment had changed yet again. I found myself strung up in a cold compartment. Before me, I could see other rooms like mine, albeit only past metal bars. A cell? I looked up; my hands were bound side-by-side in shackles, chained at length to the ceiling.

    “Wait...” Suvla said lowly. I tried to spot her, but she was simply disembodied. As I scanned the walls and floor, I saw a number etched in white chalk. At various perspectives and sizes, “47” had been drawn, littering every available space. Squinting as I turned left, I scantly noticed Suvla levitating up through the ground headfirst. She grabbed me by the chin, bringing both of us eye-to-eye.

    “You have to wait,” she said.

    “Wait? What are you talking about?”

    She merely smiled as she answered me. “Days... days... days!”

    “Wait for what? Suvla?”

    She drew back, letting go of me. “Wait... wait up... wait up... wake up...”

    And after that, everything caved into blackness.



    “Wake up! Hey, wake up!” The guard stood before Losha as she hung loosely in the air. She’d been out for days and hadn’t even stirred once in that time. Was she still alive? She’d conquered half the Henron army solo, yet here she was, helpless. He didn’t see what all the fuss was about. When he’d heard the Wolf of Sventa was going to fall under his prison watch, he’d been terrified just imagining the concept. So far though, she’d done little, if anything. He’d never opened her unit before, but the guard wondered if he were really jailing a corpse. If that were the case, he could call his graveyard shift off early.

    As he’d stepped inside, this was the only time he’d seen the Wolf up close. For someone who caused his entire clan to tremble at the very mention of her name, she was actually quite attractive. A fair face, long, beautiful hair, a wonderfully dark complexion, and youth to boot. He originally meant to check if she were breathing or not, but his eyes wandered upon her breasts. For a moment, he paused. He looked back behind him in a measure of paranoia. He was the only once assigned here, and Losha was the only captive down this way. He was certain they were alone, and if anyone approached, he’d surely hear them.

    Hesitating only a little longer, the guard turned back to Losha. No one would care even if he were caught, right? She was the enemy after all, and there were certainly worse things they could do to her. Tepidly, he reached out and put a hand on her bosom. No reaction, but it was definitely warm.

    “Not dead, sa?” he mumbled. Daring to go even further, he gave her a squeeze. “Hmm...” he said, finding her flesh pleasantly soft. As his fingers continued to violate her, he threw a nervous glance behind him. Nobody there still. As he turned around, however, Losha’s eyes had flashed wide open. The corner of her mouth snarled up, revealing her teeth. Before the guard understood what was going on, she crashed her head atop of his.

    “Gah!” he said, wincing as he stepped back, cradling his skull with both hands. Losha was just getting started. Pulling herself up by the chains, she raised her legs to the guard’s chest and kicked. This attack knocked him against the bars while it gave her momentum. Swinging backwards, she used that inertia to come back at the man. He was still trying to regain himself when Losha slammed into him. Upon impact, she pinned him by the neck as her legs wrapped around him.

    “Gaphttat!” he sputtered as she forced the breath out of him. Tethered together, their total weight soon proved too much for the chains. One of the older links snapped as its rust ripped away. Losha and the guard tumbled to the ground. He fell face-first while she bruised her back. She didn’t care about whatever damage she sustained; her only focus was her roiling rage. The pair sprang up a moment later. Though Losha had already jumped to her feet, the guard hastily crawled towards the cell’s exit. Losha hopped on him, knocking him to the floor.

    “Gnngnh!” he groaned. “H-help! I-hullngk!” Despite her restrictive accessories, Losha managed to loop some of the chains from her shackles around the guard’s throat. She pulled, grappling him more and more. He raised one arm, shaking as that one part of him struggled to be free. He tried to speak, but his plea was garbled and unintelligible. As he struggled for oxygen, Losha panted under the influence of adrenaline. She was on the verge of losing herself to a sort of combat-high, however, she forcibly quit before succumbing. Releasing the chains, she realized the guard had gone limp; he’d passed out from their brief encounter.

    For a while, she could but sit there, dazed. The situation quickly assumed a heated urgency, nonetheless. She had no clue where she was, what had happened, or who she’d have to fight. Too many hidden variables and not enough seras to deal with them all. Priority one was simple but a starting point all the same: escape. The door of her cage was open, so she got up and charged straight out. Her plan, unfortunately, never made any progress beyond that. All at once, a dozen footsteps closed in on her as she came into the hallway. Instantly, two fully armed squads flanked her, all of them bearing rifles.

    “Ksh,” Losha said, freezing. She didn’t think she had the power to physically confront this many sharpshoots, not without serialization. Whatever had happened to her, she hadn’t quite recovered, not properly.

    “Hold yourself, Wolf!” one of them barked. “Get back inside, now!” Despite the dire odds, she neither blinked nor moved. Her thoughts raced as she calculated ways to clear the area. There had to be an effective solution; she only had to formulate the correct series.

    “Hey!” the same one shouted. For all of the soldier’s bravado, Losha could still see apprehensions behind their resolve. Even as she was - tired, disoriented, and low on seras - they seemed on edge. She was just about to cast a series when a large man swooped in from the side. In a single, swift motion, he grabbed Losha by the shirt, lifting her up single-handedly. With a mighty thrust, he hurled her back into the cell. She hit the wall harshly; something cracked.

    “Ghhn...” she said as her body slid to the floor. The others trained their firearms at her while two came in to retrieve their sleeping comrade. As soon as they’d rescued him, the one who’d tossed Losha away closed the door with a rattling clang. Losha pushed herself upright slightly, though for the most part she slumped against the bricks.

    “So, this is the one they call the Wolf of Sventa,” he said as he centered himself relative to her holding pen. “The same warrior who alone stood against half of all my soldiers, and won. To think that you would have such vigor even after passing out for four full days.” He glanced up at the broken chains in the ceiling, then passively observed the guard being taken to the infirmary. “Even in your first few moments of wakening, you demonstrate yourself a worthy opponent. Do not think we will underestimate you.”

    “You already are. You stand too close to me, even with those bars in the way.”

    The sharpshoots warily backed away, though they kept their guns ready. The man in front of her furrowed his brow as he frowned. Folding his arms, however, he remained where he stood. “Do not think so grandly of yourself. No matter what strength one possesses, arrogance is a folly.”

    “As is ignorance. I was merely stating a fact.”

    “Then look upon these truths. Your hands are bound, and with them that bewildering art of yours!”

    Losha cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. Had she heard him clearly? They thought she couldn’t serialize because her hands were clamped? Yes, she often moved as she serialized, however, the gestures were mnemonic devices at best. The act of shifting to and fro stimulated her recollection, which in turn helped her to faithfully recreate a specific series. It essentially combined muscle memory with the execution phase of a series. It made learning, practicing, and repeating a given series easier, but it was by no means a necessary step in the process. An advanced serialist could perform the art just fine, even at rest.

    She was just about to scoff and give them a lesson in serialization, yet, out of the corner of her eye, she spied the transparent image of a woman. Suvla swayed behind the man, dancing in an out of view as she switched sides. She pursed her lips and held her index finger up to them. Losha closed her eyes and shook her head. Her old foe had left when she looked back up. Their last meeting had but been a dream though; she couldn’t really have seen Suvla just then. No trace of her seras frequency remained, after all. Just how hard had she rammed into the wall?

    At any rate, her delusions offered timely advice. If the Henron thought they had sealed her abilities, so much the better. They didn’t seem willing to kill her presently unless absolutely required. She could stay a while, heal, and perhaps figure out what was going. Once her seras returned to normal, she could tear this place apart. Until then, her best option was to wait...

    “I see you are still in disbelief. However, that should not last long.”

    “Two questions I have for you. Who are you exactly and where am I?”

    “I am Prime Lead Govan Henron, commander of all four Henron orders. We are currently in Navaran, the most secure prison in all of our land. Welcome to Henron, by the way.”

    “Sa...” she said, leaning her head back.

    “Is that all you desire to know?”

    “I have your name. I shall deal with you accordingly later.”

    A faint smirk curled over Govan’s mouth. “Like that watchman from earlier?”

    “That fool groped me. Do the same, and I will throttle you. You can leave now.”

    Govan’s gaze slid off to the side as he made a low, uncomfortable noise. He may have had a major role in orchestrating a vicious war, but he valued integrity among his ranks. The accusation troubled him, much like the rumors of Ano’s recent behavior.

    “I should hope I will not receive similar treatment, Ver Govan,” said a familiar voice coming down the hall. Govan sighed as he turned around.

    “You will not, Liveta, I promise you.”

    Core Lead Liveta came onto the scene with guards to her left and right. She’d been stripped of her officer’s uniform in place of plainer clothes, and like Losha, she bore herself in restraints. What was she doing here?

    “I take it the peace negotiations did not go as intended?” Losha asked her.

    “We have no need to bow before your kind,” Govan said, throwing his arm out. “As much as it pains me to do so, Liveta, I must condemn you to this place. Your abandonment of Valia was complete treason. The only positive outcome was the capture of this one.”

    Liveta looked at Losha wistfully before fixing her face as she turned to Govan. Stony and expressionless, she addressed him directly.

    “You do what is asked, Govan, but not what is needed.”

    “You!” Govan said, pointing to one of his sharpshoots. “Put her in this cell. You, get another sentry to replace the one that was incapacitated. The rest of you, follow me. We are done here.”

    The sharpshoots unceremoniously dumped the Core Lead into her new home - right across from Losha - and promptly left once everything seemed to be in order. For a moment, Liveta looked around herself then sighed as she slowly sat on the edge of her dingy cot.

    “They forgot to undo these shackles...” she trailed off.

    “I would not worry. They did the same to me.”

    Liveta shook her head, unaffected by the joke. “But I am not even half the threat you are. You cannot be kept under control without those bindings.”

    So, even Liveta believed one couldn’t serialize without using their hands. Where had they gathered this misinformation? In any case, the less anyone really knew, the greater her counterstrike would be, in time of course.

    “How is it that I find myself here while Ano...” Liveta turned towards Losha but shortly once more.

    “What happened, Liveta? My memories are blank. The last thing I remember was the exit from the Ganglan Pass, after the avalanche.

    Liveta laid herself on the thin sheets, tossing her back to all. “I am sorry, Losha. Not today. It is... too much.”

    “Sa...” Losha said, standing up. She stared over at the wall. 47 days... “Whenever you are ready, Core Lead. I have time enough.”

Author's Note

In the reaches of Aste, deep within the grasslands of the Central Plains, 14 warring clans mount constant warfare against one another. Through endless bloodshed, the people are forever rooted in a cycle of conflict. Returning to the place she once called home, Losha leaves Palostrol to go back to her family. Yet in their embrace she finds a world teetering on the brink of devestation. As King's words echo through her mind, she must decide if serialization holds the answers to peace. But are the consequences of failure are worth it? The path of the Continent's greatest struggle has only just begun. The Age of Serialization starts now.

The next installment comes March 4th, 2015. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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* This is Losha's second weird dream sequence, again with elements of foreshadowing, both in the short-term and long-term. These aren't ordinary dreams; they only occur when she's low on seras. Her fight with Koter pushed her to her limits once before, and saving the soldiers at the Ganglan Pass did so once again.

* Suvla makes her appearance from beyond the grave. It was earlier implied that her spirit persists somehow, or does it? Even when she died Losha saw her rise into the air; that could have been her soul, or just the after effects of the drugs Suvla used. Obviously her appearance in the dream could mean anything. Even as Losha sees her after she awakes, it could be attributed to the stress she's suffered and her mind partially blending the dream with reality. Or Suvla really could be a ghost. She's already a seer, so it isn't as if the paranormal is unfamiliar territory for her. Which is it? Her real fate is an exercise for the reader to decide.

* It's a very touchy subject (no pun intended, seriously) but the groping Losha suffers here is the norm for prisoners in the Central Plains, at least for the prisoners they keep (remember most are killed rather than captured). Perhaps it's a bit controversial, since unwanted contact is NEVER okay in any circumstance (even fictional) but Losha nails the bastard. She really comes out swinging (literally). While she is subjected to that guard's unseemly actions briefly, the passage highlights that she basically hits the ground running. Note how she took him down (nearly killing him) and almost made a clean escape only seconds after waking up, all without serialization. As soon as she opens her eyes, she's kicking ass.

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Any feedback is welcome. Just writing because I like it. Always wanted to make a weekly series, so I'm doing it.