Sinovan panicked and shrieked, ‘We need to run! Zovhara, let’s go!’
He ran to the back of his drift-wagon and began pushing it, hoping that the northwards downslope towards Aeroz would hasten the vehicle’s speed. But Zov’ha didn’t budge, her eyes fixed on the bikes. ‘Stand your ground,’ she ordered.
Within minutes the bikes were upon them. Zov’ha watched closely as they came to a stop a few metres away. Two armed Calcars alighted from the first bike, one male and one female who looked like twins, and rushed towards the travellers. The third raider was a tall, plump, white-furred Poban, who wore a yellow vest and loose trousers. The last was a middle-aged woman, who’s only human part seemed to be her head and chest, everything else had been replaced with bionic fabrications — a Mechanov. She remained near her bike, leaning against it. She produced a metal smoke-pipe, lit it, and took a long drag before puffing out purple smoke.
The twins charged at the travellers howling, ‘Get on the floor! Get on the floor now!’
Sinovan obeyed, kneeling down and raising his hands. But Zov’ha did not budge, standing taller than the twins, she glared at them as they approached. Efiros, too, stood between the raiders and Sinovan, snarling at them.
‘Ai, you,’ barked the male twin, pointing his gun at Zov’ha. ‘Are you deaf? I said get your…’
‘Now, now,’ said his sister, also pointing a gun at Zov’ha. ‘She thinks she can fight. So cute.’ She lowered her weapon and started circling Zov’ha, who watched her with narrowed eyes. ‘Tall as a Poban, but slim and… look at those beautiful locks of pale hair.’ When she realised Zov’ha was not amused, she called out to the Mechanov, who was now puffing out clouds of smoke, ‘Sacsha! Looks like we can use this one. Let’s neutralise her and take her to the boss.’
The Mechanov shrugged and replied, ‘You gonna bring her in?’
The Calcar girl smirked, ‘No, we have a Poban.’ She then called out to the Poban who was still waddling towards the travellers, panting as he climbed uphill, ‘Yo, Polar! Hurry up. Muscle this one and make her see what she’s up against.’
When the Poban finally reached Zov’ha, he panted, straightened up and produced a large hand cannon that he raised with one hand as if it were a feather and said, ‘No need. My boom gun here will knock her out clean.’
The Calcar girl’s expression changed, ‘We want her alive, puffy!’
The Poban motioned to grab Zov’ha by the arm, but she knocked his chunky hand away. He growled. ‘Move it!’ He bellowed, pointing his weapon at her. Zov’ha did not. Instead she continued staring at him.
Minutes passed and no one moved. Sacsha finally set aside her pipe and walked up to the stand-off — her bionic embellishments clinking and swishing as she strode towards them. ‘Smoke her,’ she commanded. ‘Smoke them all. Let’s just take everything and leave.’
‘Look, Polar,’ the Calcar girl toyed, now pointing at the lance Zov’ha was holding, ‘She has your poker.’
‘That’s mine!’ He growled, grabbing the shaft of the lance and pulling it towards himself, ‘Give it back!’
‘Back off,’ Zov’ha said plainly, holding on to the lance. The Poban was strong and she felt a jerk as he tugged at the spear.
‘I hate this one,’ replied Sacsha, now getting irritated. ‘Polar, blow her up first.’
The Poban guffawed and pulled the trigger. Zov’ha instinctively raised her right hand to cover her face, closing her eyes and lowering her head, bracing for the impact.
Up until this moment she had not felt fear, but when she heard the blast of the gun, a chill ran through her spine, and she thought that this would be the end. In that moment, something from her past suddenly rushed into her memory — she saw the silhouette of a boy, but all she could make out were his eyes — icy-blue and fierce, like a wolf in the snow. The thought disappeared as soon as it had come and she felt a sharp pain radiating from her raised forearm.
When she opened her eyes, the Poban was on the floor, a little distance away from her, and there was shrapnel everywhere. There was blood too... not hers. Bruises reddened the faces of those who were in front of her —- the blast appeared to have bounced off her and exploded on everyone else. The Calcar boy took the brunt of it, and was lying some distance away, shrapnel sticking out of his chest — dead.
‘What happened?!’ The Calclar girl shrieked. ‘Did you miss? You fat, shitbird?’
The Poban picked himself up and aimed at Zov’ha again. Sascha had a concerned look on her face. ‘Try again,’ she ordered.
This time Zov’ha didn’t look away. Lifting her right arm again she braced for the shot. Again he fired, but this time she saw it happen. As the shell left the gun’s barrel and zipped towards Zov’ha, a mass of dark, iridescent droplets exuded out of her extended arm and formed an exquisite pattern of frost crystals in front of her, growing wider and shielding Zov’ha and everyone behind her. The thin frost wall absorbed the damage, and the shell ricocheted off it, exploding into bits. The droplets were imbibed back into Zov’ha’s skin as quickly as they had formed. It all happened so fast that no one had the time to process it.
This time Polar was not close enough to be hit by the exploding shell. But his failure angered him, and he charged at Zov’ha, intending to rip her off with his bare hands. Zov’ha instinctively swung her other hand to punch the charging Poban’s face, but instead of a fist he received an icy blade that materialised out of her elbow and forearms, slashing his face from forehead to chin. He fell to the ground, clutching his face and growling. The frost blade, which had now disappeared, had caused a terrible gash on his face, bleeding as the cut bore deeper, leaving white ash where the skin and skull had disintegrated.
The Poban fell flat. The Calcar boy was down. The remaining two raiders stared in horror. Slowly backing off, they took two of their bikes and sped off.
Zov’ha stood still, staring at the Poban in front of her. Sinovan hobbled to her, still shaking. ‘Should… should I ask?’
Dark iridescent globules exuded by her own body… frost blades that materialised out of nowhere… frost blades so cold that they burnt… turning things to ash — Frost Ash. She knew someone who possessed this skill. Yes… this all seemed too familiar. Was she one of them? One of those who possessed Autoichorium?
Zov’ha did not reply.
They had a silent and fast-paced journey from the incident on the hills towards Aeroz — Zov’ha had taken one of the abandoned hoverbikes for herself. Sinovan had produced towing cables from the front of his wagon and attached them to her bike. Zov’ha rode the bike with ease, while the bear and the two Calcars sat within the trailing wagon.
By dusk they had reached the district of Aeroz, cutting their three-day journey to two. The walls of the city could be spotted directly ahead. The sky was clear, and the distant sounds of the city could be heard from where they had stopped.
To Sinovan’s surprise, Zov’ha parked the bike and came over to the wagon where the three other travellers were huddled.
‘Keep it to yourself,’ she mumbled, looking at no one in particular. Sinovan sighed and said nothing. Of course, he would keep it to himself. It was the least he could do for all she had done for him. Zov’ha continued, ‘Let’s get Segran some help as soon as possible.’
‘There’s an ECC nearby, in a glade just outside the city, close to the Forestway gate,’ Sinovan said, ‘Farianvale — that’s the name of the suburb.’
Zov’ha nodded and replied, ‘When we get to the city, will you show me to a Poban inn?’
‘Lucky for you, there’s one in Farianvale,’ he replied. ‘Follow the road and you won’t miss it.’ Zov’ha turned to head back to the bike, but Sinovan called out, ‘Zovhara!’ She stopped but didn’t turn to face him. ‘Thank you… for saving my life… twice.’
The party then headed north until they came across an asphalt road that was terribly cracked by frost heaving. A short ride eastwards, they came across a neon sign on the left side of the road; it read ‘Farianvale’ and pointed towards a smaller mud road. Zov’ha drove off the road to the mud track, and after several turns, they finally came up to a cluster of concrete buildings with aluminium roofs. Brightly lit billboards and neon signs illuminated the small vale.
Zov’ha drove through the bedraggled town. Though there was no one out on the street at this time, signs of residents in the small apartment buildings were evident through sounds of booming music or loud chitter-chatter.
She came to a stop outside a complex that had a sign reading, ‘Knights of Evalon Emergency Care Centre.’ Sinovan immediately alighted and rushed in to get the attention of the paramedics. Zov’ha parked the bike and the wagon in a large garage in the front that looked more like a scrapyard. Segran was carried away in a hovering gurney. When everything was attended to, Sinovan accompanied Zov’ha and Efiros to the Poban inn nearby. They decided to leave their transport at the ECC and walk to the inn.
They came upon a rather simple building with four or five levels. A large sign above the entrance read ‘The Cursed Cowlick’. Sinovan shook his head and sighed, but Zov’ha found it funny and giggled. The Calcar looked at her and couldn’t help smiling. Efiros did not like the look of the building and instead decided to explore the backyard.
They entered the inn and were immediately greeted by a tall, rotund Poban behind the counter who’s great brown fur had been braided in several places. ‘Don’t mind the braids,’ he said jovially, in a booming voice, ‘my daughter likes to entertain herself with my beautification when she is not busy playing games on her devices. How can I help you today?’
Again Sinovan sighed, and again Zov’ha giggled.
‘My friend here is travelling from a distant land and would like to put up in this establishment,’ Sinovan said, introducing Zovh’a.
‘Ah, here to trade?’ The innkeeper asked, looking straight at Zov’ha, ‘Or just passing by?’
‘I’m sure her business is her own,’ replied Sinovan, a bit annoyed at the personal question. ‘I thought it would be best to bring her here.’
‘Indeed. She does have a Poban thing going on,’ The innkeeper said, pointing at his own face and moving his finger up and down to indicate the fur on Zov’ha’s face. She looked away.
‘Again, that is her own business.’ Sinovan replied, more strictly, for he knew the ways of Aeroz. People tended to not get personal unless they were suspicious of something. ‘Are non-Pobans not welcome here?’
‘Come now,’ the innkeeper said waving a hand, ‘Everyone is welcome here. I was just curious, that’s all. Well, let’s get you started then. I will just need some details for my register.’ The Poban tapped the counter and a holographic screen emerged in front of him. He put on a pair of glasses that were too small for his face and bellowed, ‘Name?’
‘Zovhara,’ whispered Zov’ha, ‘It spells like it sounds.’
The Poban nodded, inputting her name slowly with one finger. Then, with his head still down he looked up at Zov’ha from the top of his glasses and said, ‘And family name?’
Zov’ha fumbled again. She had not thought about a family name. She wasn’t sure she even had a family. Was she a human? Of these lands? Or was she something more powerful? She looked down at her folded arms to avoid showing the confusion on her face. She pressed down on her forearm with her fingers to think, embarrassed with the whole situation. Tiny dark globules emerged from her skin pores, coalescing with her sweat.
‘Ash… frost,’ she mumbled.
‘Louder, dear,’ said the innkeeper. ‘The fur around my ears makes it harder to listen as it is.’
‘It’s Ashfrost,’ she said finally. ‘I’m Zovhara Ashfrost.’
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