Dodge: Serial 121

Losha plans to rescue the Shansala being forced to work for the Besnol.

Serial 121: Hunting for quarry

June 30th, 48 S.D.         12:20        Besnol, Central Plains

    “Did you just say that you are the Wolf of Sventa?!” Riva exclaimed as her head jerked back.

    “What? I cannot believe it...” Welton breathed, pushing his glasses up. “The renown warrior who ended the Sventa-Henron war? And in this village of all places? Wow... I, I do not know what to say. I am simply shocked.”

    “These days, I just go by my codename, the Wolf,” Losha said. “I am no longer affiliated with Sventa. I am sure you heard about a sort of falling out between the clan and myself.”

    “Well,” Riva began, shaking her head. “All we know is that you disappeared from these lands 10 years ago, vanished from the plains altogether. Many people only know you as an old tale.”

    “But you are still so famous!” Welton cried, gesturing excitedly with his hands. “The powers they say you wield, the art you mastered, and, uh, well, everything. There are even stories of you in Gandia. Oh, to think I would stumble upon the hero herself. Incredible!”

    “Hmm... Sa, I am certain whatever you been told about me is exaggeration at best. Any time the world speaks so greatly of an individual, you must bear in mind that myths are larger that reality,” Losha warned. “I do not lay claim to all the feats you may have heard of, only that I am her, the Wolf.”

    “On that regard...” Riva started slowly. Her eyes darted to the side momentarily. “I do not intend to be rude, or offending in any manner at all, but... How may we verify just who you are?”

    “Perhaps you should not have burned that pelt so many years back,” Virel laughed. “If you wore it now, you would be rather unmistakable.”

    “And rather hot,” Losha said. “That pelt was winter gear after all. It would not do to put that thing on in this heat. Digressing somewhat, how about I do something with the air in here. It is quite stuffy.”

    She held up her hand, pointing her index finger upward. Suddenly, a soft blue glow enveloped her digits. Riva and Welton gasped together as they stared and leaned closer. Riva mouthed some words as she squinted while the doctor rubbed the bottom of his chin. For a time, nothing besides the light seemed to happen, but even this much captured the two in marvel. The series Losha cast was more than just a bit of brightness. As the moments passed by, the space around them grew colder. Despite the summer’s ardent warmth, the hut felt cool, as if it were somehow the earliest of springs days fresh from winter.

    “Much better,” Losha smiled.

    “I should say so,” Virel agreed.

    “What on the Continent did you just do?” Riva wondered aloud. Losha raised and moved her other hand about, animated as she usually was when teaching.

    “This is just a small example of serialization. It is an art that manipulates the natural energy of the soul, known as seras, into different forms to achieve a desired reaction or result. Each act of serialization is called a series. The series I just performed works like so: I used the energy of my soul to gradually cool the air. Heat is nothing more than kinetic energy within an environment, the vibration of molecules, matter. I merely used my seras to keep it from moving. Think of it like putting your hands around something to keep it from moving. The harder you squeeze, the stiller it becomes. Stop it altogether, and it freezes. This series was only applied enough to drop the temperature of the air here in this hut.”

    “Fascinating!” Welton said as the light at the end of Losha’s fingers faded. “I dare say, that was a brief but excellent lesson. You truly are a master of your craft.”

    “Teaching serialization is something of a day-job,” Losha said wryly.

    “Of course, of course,” Welton laughed and nodded. “I have so many more questions though.”

    “Perhaps they could wait, Doctor, for I have queries of my own,” Riva interrupted. Losha turned her gaze towards the Shansala.

    “Now that you know who I am, you know I can help. If you would, Riva, I need a full account of why the Besnol are taking your people.”

    “Sa... It started this year, in January. Ordinarily, we pay them an agreeable sum annually, nearly 10 percent of any goods we make from the previous year. We were at least in some ways considered citizens of Besnol. They have always extended the protection of their army over us and granted the Shansala free range for herding wherever we chose to settle. It was an agreement proven since the days of old, at least 200 years by our count. However, they implemented a new system of taxation. They now collect 30 percent of whatever we had, and the money is due monthly as well. We stopped being able to pay such outrageous demands back in March.”

    “So, they started taking people from the village after that?” Virel asked.

    “Sa. The Besnol came and took them away, at random really. Brother and uncle were among the first to go. The Besnol claimed that they would work to pay off the debt. I do not believe they intend to return my people though. Even as they take us from the village, our taxes remain unchanged. It seems like a cruel ploy to eventually enslave us all. I have heard from other minor clans in Besnol that the same in happening to them, even to ones much wealthier than we are.”

    “To me, such a move is unprecedented,” Welton sighed. “In all my journeys across the Central Plains, minor clans live rather harmoniously alongside major clans. Only the major clans have issues among each other. But the antagonization herein Besnol is something new. I have to wonder if it is related to the larger geopolitical situation, with alliances and the constant threat of war hanging around. In other parts of the world, times of crisis in the past, real or perceived, have led to ethnic cleansing or persecution of smaller groups.”

    Losha frowned as she folded her arms. The Besnol were not exactly the greatest when it came to their treatment of minor clans. More than a century and a half ago, when Nabel Viska had begun his studies as the world’s original serialist, Besnol pressured him and his clan. They wanted serialization to become a weapon, the servai. Infuriated by their greed for power, however, Nabel went on to slaughter his people and anyone else he had taught. He left the plains, taking the art with him. In an alternate history, Besnol would have been the proper birthplace of serialization. Still. this attitude towards the Shansala was something totally different, something she found exceedingly troubling.

    “Where are your people now, the ones Besnol holds?” Losha asked.

    “As far as we know, most have been brought to a place called Farfel. To my understanding it is a quarry,” Riva said.

    “Ksh. Manual labor...”

    “I can only imagine how terrible their conditions are,” Virel sighed.

    “In this weather, I do not believe they are well,” Riva said, biting her lip for a second. “They hardly have the comforts of your serialization to ease them.”

    “They need not wait for long,” Losha grinned. Welton and Riva looked up at the Wolf.

    “Ver Holvate, do you mean to-” Riva went on to say, but Losha shook her hand.

    “No, no, no honorifics, no titles, nothing. Just Losha or Wolf. Either one is fine. Sometimes ‘master’ if you were a student. Now, I need to know where exactly this quarry is. Do you have a map of the region?”

    “Why certainly. It should be... right over here,” Doctor Welton stood up and moved over to a pile of books bound in leather. “I just saw it the other day. One moment please.”

    “Doctor,” Riva protested, turning around, however, the man was already digging. “You cannot mean to go off and rescue them?” she asked, snapping back towards the serialists.

    “That is precisely the plan!” Virel declared cheerfully.

    “It is not as if the Besnol could do much. I have faced down armies before, and I shall again. As I previously made clear, if there is trouble, I will not ignore it. The case of your people is no exception.”

    “But... to openly defy Besnol, so brazenly... What I did, what we did to those soldiers is an action that would cost me my life. That is something I could accept as the leader of the Shansala. I knew the consequences of my rashness, but they would fall upon my head alone. This proposal of yours, however, would trigger our annihilation. The Besnol have a history of eliminating problematic peoples. The Gaval are only the latest victims; it stretches as far back as the Viska. Shansala will be next.”

    Losha’s brows twinged upward for an instant. So that was how time remembered Nabel’s former clan, that Besnol had destroyed them, not the one called King. She didn’t see the need to educate Riva, not now. More important matters pressed.

    “Perhaps, Losha, you intend to protect us. For how long? The memory of malice runs ever deep in the Central Plains. They will never forget nor forgive. If you free the ones from the quarry, Besnol will retaliate against us, eventually. Unless you would permanently guard this village, the danger would be present constantly.”

    “And if I do nothing, those people of yours are forsaken,” Losha countered.

    “I... I know,” Riva said, gripping her staff as she looked down at her legs. “I know.”

    “And I suppose you already know that the Shansala are doomed without a change in the cycle. Your ‘taxes’ will simply increase until they take each and every one of you.”

    “What do you want me to do?” Riva asked as she stared at Losha. Her eyes pleaded for guidance. The Wolf shifted slightly as she leaned in closer.

    “The duty of a leader is never easy. I too have had great responsibilities thrust upon myself. The secret in dealing with fate is not simply to examine all of your options, but to make your own.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “There is an alternative. Leave Besnol altogether.”

    “But where would we go? We have lived here in Besnol for ages. We are capable of moving our home elsewhere, yet in this fierce climate spreading over the Central Plains, who would accept us? Once they learned of our origin, they would view us suspiciously. People do not just embrace minor clans so freely these days.”

    “Come back with us, to our home,” Losha offered.

    “Yours?”

    “Sa. We live on the very edge of the Central Plains, far to the south, in the Sieg Lowlands. There are no clans, no territories, no race, no heritage. Just a little school where we teach others the art. You would be safe, free from the violence you and I both know. There is plenty of space, and we would welcome you as our neighbors.”

    “As a bonus,” Virel chimed in, “that area is perfect for raising sheep. I believe you and yours will do just fine with us.”

    Riva moved her mouth to speak, but her eyes fell slightly as she paused. She is still young, Losha thought. Indecision and hesitation marked Riva’s face, but Losha knew there was a resolute soul struggling within, the same soul that had had the courage to defend her people. The Wolf knew Riva would make the right choice.

    “I, uh, so sorry ladies,” Welton laughed as he finally pulled out the map. “Seems I did not precisely recall where I put this after all. Anyway, here it is.” He came over and spread the map on the table.

    “Take your time to consider it, Riva,” Losha said as they all edged towards the chart. “But when I come back with the other Shansala, your response must be made.”

    “I understand.”

    “So, where is this quarry?”

    Riva put her finger on the paper as she slowly began tracing a path. “Northeast of this village, there is a large river. Follow it for about three kilometers until it leads you to a bend. You should see some boulders in the water itself. Turn west, and you cannot miss Farfel. The land rises slightly until it makes a sudden drop. The quarry is there.”

    “Will you need the map along with you?” Welton asked.

    “No. I should be fine. The truth is, I have a fix on the location already.”

    “Sa, at this distance, we can still detect their seras frequencies,” Virel noted.

    “Seras... frequencies?” Welton said curiously.

    “Sa,” Losha explained. “As I said before, seras is the energy of the soul. Everyone has it. Seras radiates away from the body at a set rate, a frequency if you will. Think of it like the heat your body generates; it is similar in principle. Now, each frequency is unique to each soul. Serialists such as ourselves become sensitive to the frequencies of others. We can essentially feel the presence of people, even at great lengths. I would say my effective range of detection has grown somewhere around 20 kilometers. I can feel a large, concentrated group of seras frequencies where you have pointed out this quarry. By measuring how strong a frequency feels, I can determine positional details. I am sure what I am picking up is what we are looking for.”

    “Simply astounding,” Welton observed, chuckling slightly to himself at how brilliant it all was. “Nothing short of spectacular.”

    Losha simply shrugged. “That is nothing more than the basics of serialization. What I have shown and told you barely fills the first page. Now, if you really want to witness something worthwhile, wait here until I return this evening with the rest of the Shansala.” Losha stood up and looked at Virel. “You stay here too. In case anything arises, I expect you to handle it in my brief absence. Do you hear me?”

    Between the two serialists, they had developed a sort of code. Losha’s last sentence was a predefined trigger, a signal for Virel to use her powers to peer into Losha’s soul right then and there. Generally, the Wolf did this when she wanted to communicate a command with the utmost subtly. Thus far, they’d only use this at Talosol to avoid involving the students with certain subjects.

    In short order, as Virel examined her friend’s soul, parsing its will for clues, she soon understood what Losha wanted of her. Virel was to stay back to protect the clan, true, but her other purpose was to discreetly probe around for the person who could help them. Virel’s otherworldly instincts yet told her that someone key, someone very pivotal to their goals was nearby. If she stayed behind, she could better identify this person.

    “Sa, certainly,” Virel said.

    “You mean, you are leaving right now?” Welton asked.

    “The sooner, the better,” Losha said as she made her way for the curtains.



    The distance to the quarry was close enough for Izel to run unaided by speed-steps. Losha took the time to think about the words Virel had spoken to her privately before leaving. The Sofos had come to Losha while she’d readied her horse. As the plains rolled by, the Wolf recalled her friend’s conversation.

    “I just wanted to remind you, to make you aware that you should try a different approach at the quarry. Sa, I can see how you would normally handle the situation, much like that incident when we arrived. You are a fighter, Losha,  I know this. There is nothing wrong with using force. Sometimes it is necessary and appropriate. You remember the war better than I do. However, you are first and foremost a scholar, a person of great knowledge. There are other ways to win a battle if you carefully weigh your options. Just as you told Riva, a leader must make opportunities, and so many opportunities lie within the hands of serialists such as ourselves.”

    “What I ask of you is simple. I only want that you remain mindful of the world we want to achieve, a world that is free from the conflicts of the Central Plains. If we want peace, we ourselves must be peaceful. Not every predicament requires you to draw your servai. Even if you and I never kill anyone, if we use brutish means, then nothing changes. the culture itself will be as it always was. Would you teach a violent man peace by beating him? Or would you do so through kindness and care?”

    “I do not mean to sound as if I am chastising you. I know for a fact that not every raging can be quelled by anything less than submission. Fighting is never not going to be a solution, unfortunately. But, our powers, serialization... We can solve so much without resorting to physical prowess or dominance. I want you to remember that not everything need be a battlefield. Distinguishing that will be what pushes the Central Plains to the peace we seek. If there is anyone capable of walking this path, it has to be you. I know you will find the right choices.”

    Losha could only shake her head. Leave it to that kid to be the one lecturing and inspiring her. When Virel had been but a little girl, she practically idolized Losha. After the war, everyone more or less looked up to the Wolf, but Virel had always been different. Perhaps it was because Virel thought to highly of Losha that she had been coaching her hero the past two days. Perhaps she couldn’t stand to see someone she cared so much for getting off-track in her life. In any case, Losha was grateful for Virel’s advice. That Sofos would make a great master herself one day. At any rate, Virel knew that whatever was coming ahead, only Losha could face it. She’d put her faith in the Wolf, something Losha would not betray.

    The quarry itself had been relatively easy to spot. As she narrowed her eyes against the glaring sunlight, she saw a wooden guard tower erected near a large, fenced off area. The dirt road lead straight through a gap in the barrier going deeper into Farfel. Besnol flags along the perimeter flapped lazily in the sporadic breeze, but otherwise the entrance was rather unassuming.

    She lowered Izel’s speed to a more leisurely walk. As she came nearer, she saw a flash from the guard tower, probably binoculars. It could have been a sniper rifle, but long before she’d come here, Losha had already cast a kinetic force-field around herself and her horse as a precaution. Soon, however, the guard began making a loud fuss, hollering and gathering the attention of several comrades. More people, soldiers it seemed, came to the front, looking at where the guard was pointing. For a while, they watched Losha come closer and closer, but growing wary with her advances, the groups decided to go out and meet her before she reached the quarry.  Nearly half a dozen intercepted Losha as they hustled in front of her and blocked the way.

    “Hold it right there, stranger,” barked a mustached soldier, a Field Lead by the looks of his uniform. “Who are you? What shrieking business do you have in Farfel?”

    “My business?” Losha echoed as she and Izel stopped for a moment. “I have come here to free the Shansala bound to work off their so-called ‘debts’ that they owe.”

    The Besnol immediately grabbed the handles of their weapons, ready to unleash their steel in an instant.

    “What nonsense is this?”

    “Are you looking to die?”

    “She must be crazy.”

    “Maybe the heat got to her.”

    “I can assure you, I feel just fine today,” she said. “Now if you wonder who I am, remember well my name. I am Losha Holvate Sventa, the Wolf. And, if you will excuse me, I have something to do.”

    Before they could react, Losha waved her hand over them, casting a kinetic force-field around their boots, rooting them to the very ground they stood on. She gave a brief nod as they struggled against an unseen barrier. Confused, they began to shout, but Losha casually rode around them and continued to Farfel. Soon, she completely left the Besnol behind her.

    “Sa, why fight at all? With my level of serialization, I can just walk right in there...”

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 May 4th, 2016. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

======

* This week's title is a bit of wordplay. "Quarry" means prey, or it can mean a sort of pit or excavation site. In this serial, they can be seen as one in the same. As the Wolf, Losha has an objective she has to hunt down, her quarry. It just so happens the location is an actual quarry.

* Losha uses a phrase "barely fills the first page". It is a distinctly Asten idiom. It means "just the tip of the iceberg" or something that "barely scratches the surface". It's used to describe things that, while impressive, are only a fraction of what's to come.

* Virel proves herself wise beyond her years. The other day, she returned Losha to her senses and motivated her to tackle both the Zeroes and the larger violence of the Central Plains. Here she offers sage advice about when to use force. When you think about how powerful Losha is, in reality, she doesn't need to fight ordinary people. Swords, arrows, spears, even guns and bombs have no effect on her kinetic force-fields, and she can disable people by immobilizing them with force-fields around their bodies. She even once tried to walk away from a fight with Koter (Serial 59). In truth, the only ones that could harm her are other serialists or those wielding serastone. Don't worry though, Losha isn't going soft. As Virel said, plenty of people need to be physically handled. It will, however, put a new spin on what it means for her to be a hero of the Central Plains.

======

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