Ardinia's War

Kra'den

The subway station was in ruins.  The columns holding up the ceiling were cracked and some were demolished altogether.  A pile of twisted rails and other trash had been swept to one side of the platform, and new, shiny sections of track had already been installed close to the station.  Ardinia marveled that the subway still functioned at all as she disembarked.  It had been almost two rotations since the invaders had left Kra’den, but signs of the destruction they wrought were all around her.  The rebuilding process was long and arduous, particularly since most of the inhabitants of Kra’den had not yet returned from the forced evacuation of the community.  The walls of the stone caverns and the tunnels bore innumerable burn marks from both fire and gunpowder, as well as pools and splatters of dark, dried blood that was flaking off like peeling paint.  In the middle of the marketplace was a roped-off area where one level of the community had collapsed into the next.  Through the hole, the entire lower level could be seen.  The pile of rubble beneath the hole had homemade bead strands strewn on it from the mothers and wives of the soldiers buried there.  A single tiny carved statue of the Goddess Jinnea had been dropped on top of the pile, the garnet figure resting askew on the stones.

Ardinia wondered if her husband was beneath that rock.  She put her hand into the pocket of her skirt and felt the golden military insignia that the messenger had given her.  It was cold and smooth, but gave her no answers.  If it had, she might have jumped through the hole herself.  But she already knew where she would find her answers, and it wasn’t staring down at the sudden grave that had buried so many brave men.  She needed to find the military recruiting center.

She looked up from the hole and stared around the marketplace square.  The signs for the shops and businesses all had cracks in them.  It was obvious that most had fallen and been hurriedly repaired.  Half of them were illegible, the characters on them ruined beyond recognition.  Most of the shops were still closed, their stone doors shut and display alcoves dark.  Ardinia shook her head.  She had never been to Kra’den before, so she wouldn’t have had an easy time finding her destination even if the signs weren’t ruined.  At least she was fortunate enough to know how to read, a skill not everyone possessed.

A man crossed the square on the far side, a man in a brown uniform with a heavy vest wearing a metal helmet and two even braids in his long, black beard.  He was in the military; he would know.

“Sir?” she called.  She ran to catch him.  “Sir!”

“Yes’m?”  He turned to see her, then asked in a mild Stonden accent, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m lost,” she explained.  “Can you please tell me where the recruiting center is?”

“Ah, you and two hundred others,” he muttered, exasperated.  “Don’t tell me.  You’re here to sign up.”

“Well… no, actually,” she replied.  “I…”  She tried to find the words to explain why she was there.  She wasn’t sure herself.  Part of her wanted to go see her husband’s final resting place.  She didn’t know what she would do once she got there.  Would she weep?  Would she take her own life so she could join him?  No; although she was a widow, she couldn’t honestly say that she grieved for him.  She wanted to stay alive, to shake off the mourning and demand that someone find her daughter so she could return to a normal life.  She stammered for a moment, then gave up and pulled the insignia out of her pocket and thrust it toward him.

“Oh,” he shrugged, then took the pin from her and turned it over.  “I see.  One of the hundreds we’ve lost.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning at him quizzically.

“Where did you find it?”

“It was delivered to me by messenger.”

“Oh,” he said, realizing the implications of what she’d said.  She hadn’t found it; this gold pin belonged to her late husband.  He glanced up at her, surprised that she wore no black for him.  He looked more closely at the insignia, rubbing it so he could read the name, then gave it back to her.  “He was a good man.”

“You knew my husband?”

“More by reputation than acquaintance,” the man answered, gesturing for her to follow him as he led the way to the recruiting center.  “He was brave and strong, could kick back twenty Vermin by himself without help.  It was a shame to lose him that way.”

“Was it there?” she asked timidly, nodding her head toward the hole in the marketplace floor.

“Nah,” he answered.  “That was before.  No, he’s at the bottom of a deep hole about two Tenmarks from here.”  He looked up to see her response, to see if he’d shocked her.  When he saw that she was listening calmly, he continued.  “The ashen Vermin had us all guessing, you see.  We’d trap them in the back of a complex where there was no way out, only to find them throwing boulders at us or collapsing the tunnels on top of us.  Then they’d go and pull out any living and nurse them back to health only to steal them.  His group was one of them that got the tunnel collapsed, but it fell beneath them.  They dropped a quarter of a Tenmark, then the roof caved in.  We’ve only recently gotten the bodies out and identified them all.  None of them got out alive, not even to be kidnapped.”

“What do you mean, kidnapped?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“You’ve not been following the war, have you?” he mused.  “You don’t live here in Kra’den?”

“No, my family is from Ashaden,” she replied.  “He wanted me there so I wouldn’t be alone when he went on tours and to have my parents’ help raising Jeuila while–” she faltered mid-sentence as her breath caught in her throat.

“The war came to you, did it?” he asked.

She nodded mutely.

“Did they find her?”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he offered.  “Lot of families lost their durlings during the Vermin raids.  Some were found, but most of them ‘re still out there.”

“Is there anything to be done?” she asked.

“You’re sure you haven’t been following the war news?”

“Not since he died,” she replied honestly.  “It’s too much to hear about every day.  I can’t stand the waiting.”

He stopped her in the tunnel, then looked around to make sure there was no one else in earshot.

“What if you could do something about it?” he whispered conspiratorially. 

“What do you mean?”

“What if there was a way you could help save your daughter?”

She looked askance at him, sizing him up as she backed away suspiciously, appalled by the apparent innuendo.  She had heard stories about women who had been recruited to ‘help’ military men; help them right into bed, that is.

“No, not that,” he reassured her after seeing her reaction, waving his hand through the air to dismiss the idea entirely.  “I mean officially.”

“Tell me more.”