Dodge: Serial 115

Entering Kalon, Losha begins tracking down clues about the Zeroes, only to find herself on the trail of a new, mysterious figure.

Serial 115: Northern Trails

June 20th, 48 S.D.         18:04        Kalon, Central Plains

    Although most of the clans had tightened their borders, as Tibil had said, Gandians were still permitted much the same as before. Foreigners were relatively rare, however, so many clans paid them no mind at all. Losha decided to take advantage of this fact and adopted a new, albeit temporary persona. Pretending to be someone from Gandia would let her slip by without much scrutiny. It was easier than constantly casting a series over Izel and herself to turn invisible, which was how she’d previously infiltrated territories.

    Though Losha’s complexion was darker than that of the average Gandian, she described herself as an expatriate living near the Zevano badlands, a place known for its harsh sun. Her acting was further bolstered by her near perfect mastery of the Gandian language, a feat few in the Central Plains could do. Additionally, she could mimic several different accents. As long as she spoke her native Asten tongue brokenly, haltingly, and sparingly, everyone else believed her for an outsider. To hide her fatigues and her commando-like appearance, she wore a black, hooded cloak. Her story became that of a traveling rancher making a trek to the Lower Vestel region just north of Kalon. Along the way, she’d managed to purchase a wide-brimmed hat; this, together with a drawl in all her words completed her identity.

    She’d come into Kalon with no trouble, but only for the fact that no one really saw her. Even as Losha rode the main, open roads, hardly a soul was around. She found this rather strange given the frequent patrols she had seen elsewhere. If no one cared about her presence though, it proved so much the better for her. The less she worried about clans and their regional clashes, the more she could focus on the Zeroes.

    If Kalon really was ordering the Zeroes to attack Mepav, it was most likely the result of some official action. Either their government or their army was involved. A private entity could have been behind everything; from what Losha understood, anyone could request jobs from the Zeroes, so long as they could contact the group. Larger players, however, would be in the best position to call the mercenaries.

    As she and Izel moved deeper and deeper into Kalon, evenly trotting over the same long, stretch of dirt, eventually signs of life began to emerge. Up ahead, at last, she started to detect seras frequencies. While the kilometers went by, a sort of wooden fortress rose in the distance. Instantly, she recognized it as an outpost. Some clans established them on their roads, both as a convenience to ordinary folk passing through and as miniature footholds for their armed forces. Each outpost was not unlike a small town; often they had all the usual shops, restaurants, and lodgings found in any major Asten establishment. Even so, they also served as the barracks for a few squads. Perhaps here she could find a clue about Kalon’s supposed connection to the Zeroes. Though this little place was hardly their military headquarters, maybe the commanding officer here was high enough on the chain to know something. It was worth a try, and after all, she had to start somewhere.

    The road ran straight through the outpost from one side and out the other. Standing some three stories tall, the facility sat like a great box in the middle of the plains. Two sets of gates at either exit seemed to be the only ways inside. She came ever closer, and when she was within earshot, a soldier standing watch at the topmost level beckoned Losha with a wave.

    “Come on now! Get along! Hurry up and get inside if you do not want to sleep out there all night! Step to it, shrieks. We will be closing the gates any minute.”

    Taking the man’s advice, she and Izel raced forward, galloping into the outpost rapidly before grinding to a stop.

    “You there, just a minute!” Another guard called out as he climbed down a set of stairs near the entrance. She took this time to look around the interior, taking in everything. Though Losha had been to a number of places, she’d never actually been inside a location quite like this. It wasn’t just mere curiosity that caused her to examine all things carefully, she needed to know her surroundings for this part of her operation.

    The whole outpost was mostly empty in the middle, hollowed out like a great square. The walls, however, were very thick, enough to build entire rooms into them. Each level could be seen clearly, like layers in a cake. On the ground, dozens of storefronts were set up, already lit with lanterns for the evening. Though the day would soon wane, customers bustled within the market. In the middle, people milled about, talking or relaxing on benches. The second floor was nothing more than a series of doors leading elsewhere. They were all connected by the same path that ran around the entire outpost, accessible by several stairs. Apparently, people stayed the night up there. The last, highest floor was devoted to a few sentries acting as look-outs on their platforms. It really felt as if she were in a village of some kind. Behind her, the gates creakingly started to close; at the same time, so did the others at the far end. After a bit, a pair of guards made their way over to Losha.

    “Well, look at you, lucky girl,” smiled the shorter, older one. “Just caught the gates in time. 6:30 is our curfew, and now we are locked down for the night. Lucky you, I say, unless you are the wrong kind of stranger, that is. Means you are stuck here. Now, if you would, state your name and business.”

    Losha feigned as if the words spoken to her made little sense. “C’mon y’all. I can’t understand a darn thing you’re hollering about,” she said in Gandian, giving her hat a brief tug as if she were uneasy. By no means was she uncomfortable, but there was a show to perform. The two soldiers exchanged hesitant glances.

    “Shrieks, is that Gandians she speaks?” the short one whispered.

    “Sure is. Are you that rusty?”

    “Damn. The Field Lead is busy right now; guess I have to do the talking with her. Here goes...” The soldier looked at her directly and attempted to talk with some amount of confidence.

    “Ah... Good evening ma’am,” he said slowly in Gandian. His pronunciation, badly butchered, made even Losha’s ears cringe. “You have come to stay our night? Who you are? And what business?”

    “Oh, right!” Losha said, nodding up and down. She replied loudly, pacing herself in an attempt to be as simple as possible. “I am Gandian, from the west. I go north, to Upper Vestel. Can I sleep here?” She pointed to herself, then to her side, indicating the directions. The men took a moment to process her words before responding.

    “Sleep is fine, but name and business?”

    “Sheryl Vanover is my ‘name’,” Losha said, switching to Asten for select words, pretending her vocabulary was limited. “I breed animals, ‘horses’.” She gave Izel a pat on his neck. Together, the soldiers whispered back and forth.

    “Is she one of those ranchers from out west?”

    “Seems like it. You know, it makes sense. She does not exactly look like the other Gandians that typically live in the east. That must be why. Heard the west is supposed to be like a desert in some spots.”

    “So, should we let her in? Does it seem right?”

    “Well, there is not much we can do. The Range Lead hates opening the gates until morning. Once they are shut, that is it.”

    “She does not look like trouble. As long as she is not Mepav, I do not think this one will be any problem for us.”

    “Just a damn shame they always expect us to learn their language. Never met a Gandy that could speak one bit of reasonable Asten...”

    They turned their focus back on Losha, nodding and grinning as if friendly to her. “You can stay our night. We have food and have stores. See boy for stables. See girl for room. That is all.” He gestured vaguely to two people, one near the other end of the outpost and one somewhere on the second level. Evidently, she was supposed to go to them for putting up Izel and getting a room for the night.

    “I suppose it’s ‘thank you’, as you would say it,” Losha smiled politely, showing them that she’d gotten the message. They seemed to want little to do with her after that, so without ado they retreated to their former stations, leaving the serialist to herself. She was grateful that everything had gone smoothly. With tensions flaring across the plains, she expected them to be more thorough. Perhaps it really only mattered to the Kalon if they believed she was from another clan. Still, if they were so lax about Gandians, what was to stop a foreigner from acting as a spy? She could but shake her head at their security, but it was so much the better for her purposes.

    With a slight tug of Izel’s reins, she guided her horse across the outpost, almost to the other sets of gates. There, a lad just into his teens stood leaning against the wall, chatting with a few older boys. Upon observing the approach of a horse, he pushed himself upright, excusing his presence from his friends.

    “Right this way,” he said, stepping up to Losha as he swept his arm to the side. To their left, a large, open path led to an enclosed space tucked within the walls of the compound. Through there, she caught sight of other horses standing idly about in various stalls. “This way. We will give them food and water for the night, as well as in the morning if you stay until eight ‘o’ clock. You need not worry about a thing. Plenty of warm space and fresh oats in there.”

    “Thank you, but I don’t speak Asten. I’m Gandian,” she said, playing as if confused by the kid’s words. He frowned for a moment, then shrugged before speaking in stilted but passable Gandian.

    “Do no worry about your horse. We will look out for him. Food and water we will give. Let us handle him tonight, miss.”

    “Wonderful,” Losha said as she dismounted, grabbing her bags and other equipment. The kid led Izel off, even though her faithful steed looked back at her and puttered. She gave his head a rub to reassure him everything was alright. A few minutes later, she went up to the second floor and found the girl that had been pointed out to her. After a similar, awkward conversation in poor Gandian, the little lass offered her small but private quarters along the eastern wall. Any room was good, as far as Losha was concerned. With that matter settled, she closed and locked the door after her. Soon night would fall, and with the coming evening, she had work to do.



    As the hours darkened, as the lateness deepened, Losha sat on the edge of her bed. The end of her cigarette was the only source of light at the time, save for the stars peering in from the window. Her free hand was extended before her, raising both her index and middle fingers like antennae. Silently, she cast a series that converted her digits into what essentially was a hyper-sensitive microphone. The very tips of her flesh captured any disturbance in the air, allowing her to translate these vibrations into sound. Using a separate kinetic series, she stimulated the area near her ear, effectively creating a receiver. Serialization allowed her to pick up and enhance sound thousands of times greater than anyone else could normally perceive. In this way, she was plugged into every noise being made within the outpost, thanks to advanced use of her art.

    Unfortunately, all she got was noise. Over the past hour, she’d manually cut out certain frequencies until she got  down to the only range she cared about, the human voice. She was then listening to what amounted to a crowd all rambling at once. Her next task was to drop out individual speakers, filtering their waveforms if she felt they were not related to her search. Gradually, she was left with only a few dozen candidates. It was still pretty clustered, but she could pick out specific, if somewhat hazy conversations. It didn’t matter to her, so long as as she could make out certain keywords.

    For a long while, she sat there, secretly analyzing the dialog of random people. Some of the talk was mundane, and yet a few were decidedly intimate. She did feel a certain uneasiness about eavesdropping with her powers, but she had no interest in things like trade, love affairs, or political matters. Losha remained narrowly focused on one thing in particular, and eventually she found her mark. It wasn’t clear at first, a blurred signal among others, but when she came across the words she wanted to hear, she latched onto them. She took out several more voices until she could recognize but a handful.

    “Today sure got hot around noon.”

    “We need a new wheel for the wagon, whether we can afford it or not.”

    “They say it was flooding down by the river recently. I hope mother is alright.”

    “Certainly, Range Lead, I will forward the message at dawn.”

    Sa, that last one was it, she thought. From the guards’ talk earlier, she figured there was at least one Range Lead and one Field Lead set in this outpost. A Range Lead might know something about Kalon’s relationship with the Zeroes. It was merely a small chance, but she’d have a look anyway. Immediately, she isolated this discussion, quieting everything else that came to her. As she listened even further, she pinpointed the approximate location of her targets based on where the voices were strongest. Combining this with their seras frequencies, Losha created a lock-on for these two individuals. One was the Range Lead, the other was none of her concern.

    “Alright then, I suppose I will take my leave.”

    “Add the Field Lead’s supply list to the messenger’s load. We will need to get more wood for repairs sooner than later.”

    “Of course; consider it done. Goodnight.”

    A door closed as someone walked away. She guessed the person staying in the room was the Range Lead. Mentally, she tagged and made a note of him as she snubbed her cigarette and waited. The Range Lead was on the eastern side, the same as her, the last room all the way up by the northern gates. She waited until his seras frequency came to a long rest, until she knew he was sleeping. Then, Losha went over to her window and opened it. She tossed her cloak and hat to the side, wearing only her fatigues.

    Without hesitation, she climbed outside, turning around as she dangled herself from the sill by her arms. Hanging there, Losha turned to her right. Other sills formed a series of ledges she could use to move across. She pressed her feet against the wall for support then slowly started shifting towards the Range Lead’s room. While she pulled herself along, Losha was ever mindful of the guards on patrol on the third floor. The top level thankfully stuck out a meter over the other floors, so no one could see her from their angle. Still, she had to edge her way bit-by-bit discreetly.

    Though it took her some time to shimmy over to the Range Lead, she did not tire. As a serialist, both her soul and her body had been subject to years of training. Gripping the last sill firmly with one hand, she reached up and rapped on the window. At first, there was no response, yet she continued lightly, careful not to attract the guards, but on that same token trying to gain the officer’s attention. Finally, her efforts paid off as the Range Lead stirred.

    “What?” he blurted, leaning up from his bed, searching about. Once more, Losha tapped the glass. “Shrieks, what the hell? Is that the window?” Losha hit it again, as if answering him.

    “Well, s**t. Have I lost my mind? Am I awake all the way?” Glaring confusedly at the window, he threw away his covers and sprang for the window. In an instant, he’d unlatched it. Right as he was about to stick his head out, Losha launched into action. Grappling her fist tightly around the man’s shirt, she grabbed and threw him out. Before he ever had the chance to scream, he’d already tumbled over, landing on his back on the grass below. A minor kinetic series slowed his fall, leaving him merely stunned rather than unconscious, paralyzed, or worse. Swiftly, Losha dropped down and crept behind the dazed Range Lead. As soon as he reeled and sat upright, he felt a surge of painful spikes attack his limbs. A measured dose of electricity from another series disabled him for the moment. Hauling him over her shoulder, she then sped off into the night.

    Relatively shortly thereafter, in the middle of a field far away, she tossed the officer on the ground, face-first. The effects of his electrocution were wearing off, but as he tried to move, he was stopped by an unseen pressure. Using yet another kinetic series, Losha pressed him to the ground, binding his limbs.

    “What the f**k?!” he cried in alarm; the only thing he could freely work was his mouth.

    “I will ask, and in return, you will answer,” Losha said from behind.

    “Wh-who the f**k are you?!” the Range Lead demanded.

    “Just a ghost.”

    “The only thing I will tell you is to eat s**t and die.”

    “Fair enough,” she said, kicking him in the ribs. He gasped sharply, sucking in air. “There is a mercenary group called the Zeroes going around, doing all sorts of jobs. What do you know about them?”

    “I swear, I will scream, you b***h! The whole outpost will be on you in a shrieking minute!”

    “We are a long way from your outpost now, a half-dozen clicks or more, easily. I would not make too much noise though. The wilderness is full of predators. Mountain lions, bears, even wolves. Now, if you would kindly speak.”

    “D-damn you to hell!”

    Losha sighed, then delivered another kick, this time to his crotch.

    “Ghh! Gnnnnhhh!” He shook, trembling as he clenched his teeth, but the pain ran over him. Restrained as he was, he could not protect himself, nor could he caress his wounds. Losha stooped close to the Range Lead, still out of sight.

    “Mepav has suffered the most at the hands of the Zeroes. I know Kalon is involved. Tell me who. Who is ordering the Zeroes on your greatest rivals. Is it your military? Or is it someone in your government?”

    “A-alright, alright! I will tell you the rumors... I do not know much, sa? Not much at all; it is above my rank.”

    “Speak!” Losha commanded.

    “Sa, sa! If you want to know more about the Zeroes, look for the man with the golden eye-patch, the one with the devil’s emblem.”

    “Devil’s emblem?”

    “They say it looks like some kind of dog. Sa, his name was... Black Jackal, I think.”

    “Who is he?”

    “Everyone says the Zeroes only work through proxies to accept assignments. I-I think he is one.”

    “And where can I find him?”

    “None of us talk to him. I heard from a friend that he goes to the Felkat estate further north whenever he is summoned. Who calls him and when and for what, I do not know... It is all just rumors that float around... I swear!”

    “Black... Jackal...” Losha whispered as she stood up and started walking away. The Range Lead cried out in panic.

    “H-hey! Let me go! Do not leave me here!”

    “Relax. You will be free to move at dawn. You can wait until then. Besides, you hate opening the gates after curfew anyway,” she laughed as she disappeared.

Author's Note

15 years ago, Losha Holvate Sventa fought to bring peace between Sventa and Henron. Though calm has been established between these two major clans, the larger situation has not been resolved. Time has passed, but the Central Plains are still a violent place, seething with anger and hatred. All it takes is a simple scratch, and everything will come rushing to the top. From the shadows, one underground group aims to do just that using the strength of serialization. Now an abandoned hero, Losha must once more rise to save these lands from the destructive power of the art. Yet as the actions of her past confront the Wolf, can she find the will to stand against the one behind it all, her very own son?

The next installment comes March 23, 2016. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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* The persona Losha adopts is not unlike that of another character that appeared near the start of Dodge: Brigitte Kölman, the leader of a small band of merchants from the Haus Trading Company (Serial 12). She even takes some of Brigitte's backstory, i.e., being raised up in the Zevano badlands in the Western part of the Continent. What ever happened to Brigitte, Stephen, and Barv after the Sventa-Henron war? Well, they went back east to their company, but perhaps Losha will encounter them some time in the future...

* Gandians inhabit the eastern side of the Continent primarily (hence they are named after the fault line of Gandia that generally separates the Central Plains from the east). However, as Brigitte was an example of, they spread all over the place to some extent, mostly the Upper and Lower Vestels (the mountainous regions that sit below the farthest northern climates) and the Western Badlands of Zevano. Because of their lighter complexion, Losha decides to pretend to be one of the few Gandians that come from Zevano to explain her darker skin.

* Here we see another glimpse into the darker side Losha has acquired in her treatment of the Range Lead. Though he is an innocent player in terms of the Zeroes, she pursues harsh methods against him to get information. Part of this can be explained by her disgust with what the Zeroes are doing, driving her to be rougher than she ever was. Another dimension comes from her disgust at the clans in general, how everyone only wants to fight their neighbor, so isn't exactly soft when it comes to any one in the military. Her laughter at the end is not intended to be malicious (mocking, but not malicious), nor is her choice to leave him stranded there. She was exaggerating the threat of predators; he'll be fine until morning :P

* The man with the golden eye-patch? Black Jackal? He'd be the third character with a canidae codename (Losha, the Wolf of Sventa, and Kotor the Velhast Hound).

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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.