A Symphony of Echoes
FARRINA

The searing heat became bearable with the soft kiss of the ocean breeze cooling Farrina’s perspiring brow.  With the dessert behind her, the tropics gave way to a coast of ivory sand.  Squawking gulls circling overhead drew her attention to the sapphire sky, past palm trees reaching to the clouds.  As ever, the city of Norspe buzzed with commotion. 

She dismounted as she approached the gate, leading her horse by its reins.  Catching herself looking over her shoulder, she snapped her head forward, keeping her hood drawn and gaze low.  A pang of guilt stung her. 

Before the dust settled from the Battle of Sarujian, Farrina commandeered a stallion and enough provisions to travel the expanse of Ysaht.  Made in haste and panic, after what happened inside the palace—she shuddered, recalling the horror—Farrina fled.  She remembered soldiers’ faces twisted in agony as their bones popped and snapped with no more than the faintest notions of her will.  Power ripping through her spirit like torrents of fire awakened thousands of memories in her all at once.  Experiences buried deep inside the dark caverns of her mind illuminated with perfect clarity. 

At first, she found it easy to accept her past lifetimes, like greeting an old friend not seen in a long time.  Later, it became disheartening to come to terms with having lived twenty-nine years without the faintest idea of who or what she was. 

I still don’t know, she realized. 

The fount of knowledge she tapped into was only a trickle compared to the cascading river still hidden from her.  With only one way to reach those secret places—one way to find answers—Farrina ran away without looking back.

“Venriso, traveler.”

A dark-skinned woman greeted her as she passed, carrying a woven basket filled with nectarines.  A knot twisted in Farrina’s stomach.  Though she could not remember details, she became aware she would not have recognized the fruit before the incident in Sarujian.  More and more, she found herself knowing things without realizing how. 

Though she studied astronomy in her education, the subject never seemed relevant to her career.  Much of it went forgotten in her years of service to Azur’nth.  Now, she recalled the constellations by memory, could pick them out of the night sky at a glance, and knew in which direction they led depending on the time of year.  She used this skill to navigate, but from where this knowledge came remained a mystery, and an infuriating one at that.

“Venriso,” Farrina replied with a nod. 

It took a great deal of effort not to draw attention.  Her long, fiery-red hair tended to catch the eye of most people, so she tucked it inside her cloak.  The stiff, wide hood shaded her from the harshness of the suns and did more to keep her cool than if she were to shed her layers.

Norspe remained much as she remembered from diplomatic missions in the past.  Once she descended the long path between the rocks to the beach, it pleased her to find the stable to the west of the main entrance into the city.  It pleased her more to find it still run by Dalla, a plump, pretty woman with red-orange hair.  Freckles dotted every inch of her arms, even across her nose and cheeks.

“Venriso, friend,” Farrina greeted.

“Lady Farrina!” Dalla exclaimed.

“You remember me,” Farrina beamed.

“It’s not like you’re easy to forget.  It’s been years.  What brings you to Norspe?”

She started looking past Farrina, probably taking note at the lack of escort.

“Business,” Farrina replied.  “Discreet business.” 

Dalla took the hint and nodded.

“Won’t say word.  May I take your horse?”

Farrina took stolen gold from a stolen purse and paid the woman to take care of her horse—which she had also stolen.  Having never taken something in her life, she found herself having done so from a queen. Dwelling on how disappointed Coralyn would be to discover she had gone, Farrina said goodbye to Dalla and started the long ascent up the dangling platforms on the rock face.  

I gave Coralyn as much guidance as I could for as long as I could, Farrina reasoned.  I owe her nothing.  Besides, the woman would not let me go home; she was all but holding me prisoner.

In her peripheral, she caught sight of a mermaid painted on a wooden sign outside an inn.  Having stayed here before on official business from the Crown, she knew the management to be friendly.  Perhaps they might recall having entertained her before.

“Venriso,” Farrina said with a smile.  The innkeeper of The Siren shot a glance in her direction and then took a gaping second look.

“Venriso, my lady,” he replied with a bow.

As she hoped, the owner of this tavern remembered her too.  She intended to think of his name on the way here from the stable but had been too distracted to focus. 

I’ll just have to improvise. 

She gave him a wary look, eyes darting to the right and the left.  Stepping close enough so their cheeks grazed, Farrina whispered in his ear.

“It is a pleasure to see you, my friend, but I’m afraid I must stay the formalities,” she said apologetically.  She placed some Ysaht gold into his hand, pretending to clasp it with affection and hoping to pass it off as a friendly gesture to onlookers.  “I need your quietest room, and if your women would draw me a bath I would be so grateful.  It’s not safe to speak now, but I’ll tell you everything later; I promise.” 

The man, eager to please, started barking commands to his staff, telling them to make accommodations.  Farrina heard someone shout his name: ‘Antony.’  A smile crossed her face as she recalled it.

“This way, Lady Farrina.”

“Follow me up the stairs.”

They gave her a quiet, lonely room on the far end of the hall.  The maids brought a bath to her room quicker than expected.  When Farrina climbed into the stainless copper tub she slipped into soothing hot water.  The women attended her as she bathed, rinsing her hair and scrubbing her back.  After they saw her dried, she dismissed them.  Her hair had to be brushed a certain way, and she was not about to let bumbling barmaids rip every strand from her scalp, leaving it a tangled mess. 

Typothanas used to sing to me when he brushed my hair.

Another pang of guilt pealed through Farrina’s heart.  She missed the strength of his long, ivory fingers as he caressed her body.  The way adoration poured out of his eyes when he looked at her.  In retrospect, she wished they escaped Sarujian together.  Typothanas would follow her anywhere. He still might.  Every night, she fell asleep thinking about him, wishing him next to her, to comfort her, to love her. 

He may catch up to me.

Despite her feelings for him, once she fell asleep, it was not of Typothanas she dreamed.  Not that night or any other since the day her life forever changed.

She lay down on the bed and the light of reality faded as the soft, black curtain leading to her dreams parted.  Velvety blur gave way to vivid detail as a world materialized around her in colorful swirls.  She stood in Sarujian, reliving the moment haunting her since.  The cold, marble floor fell from beneath her, and she flew high into the air.  The city looked like a pebble in the sand, the armies, as ants creeping towards it.  She floated within a pillar of light stretching beyond the stars.

South.

A voice from everywhere and nowhere spoke, and it reverberated through the core of her being.  Her gaze turned southward to sea and sky.  She could see so far!  It was as if she remained still and the world spun around her.  Far across the desert, soaring high over ocean waves, she encountered the coast of Rhiion, the world across the Cerulean Ocean.  The terrain flowed before her like a story, telling first of beaches and rock bluffs.  As the land rolled up like a scroll, it gave way to rice farms, grasslands, and finally, endless rivers flowing within a dense rainforest.

Darkness lay thick within and horrors lurked everywhere.  Eyes always watching, wet fangs glistened under the starlight.  Something terrible stalked the shadows.  A temple came into view, and at long last, the world around her stood still.  A beam of light shot into the sky, and she awoke, reality embracing her. 

Farrina must go there.  She knew it like she knew she was alive.  A longing desire burned hotter than any fire ever burned before—hotter than the fire burning inside her to stop Vinigo, and hotter than the fire in her heart burning for Typothanas.  Fragments of her soul remained hidden from her until she could reach that place.

Rested, and with determination restored, she bolted out of bed and eased into the clothes the barmaids laid out the night before.  It was a fine, powder-blue dress in Jahdu fashion.  Silver thread embroidery adorned the stitches, seamlessly wrapping the fabric to hug her hips and bosom.  She let her hair fall loose around her shoulders.  The inn offered nothing in the way of cosmetics, forcing her to rely on natural beauty today.

Farrina walked down to the common room of the inn where Antony and his family stood serving breakfast to their patrons.  The eyes around the room locked onto her as she took a seat at the bar.  Antony’s oldest son, a tall, handsome youth with olive skin and charcoal hair, poured bright orange fruit juice into a glass before her.  She saw every guest with a glass of the half-finished beverage and took a sip.  It was delicious.  Although Farrina knew she had never tasted it in her lifetime, she recalled it to memory from one of the flickering flames in the darkness of her mind.  She hated the feeling.  How could she know something, and yet not know from which lifetime she learned it?  She feared it might drive her mad.

Perhaps I am mad.

“Venriso, Lady Farrina,” the young man said.

“Venriso,” she replied, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“What would you like to eat?” he asked. 

She caught sight of a bowl of fruit on display behind the bar and pointed.  “Just an apple, if you please.”  He retreived one for her, pink and orange in color.

“You sure you won’t have more?” he asked.  “We have fresh eggs—and bacon.” 

Bacon sounded tempting, but with no time to waste and things needing accomplished she chomped into the fruit, hopped out of her seat, and moved towards the door.

“Tell your father I left early to run some very important errands,” she said, turning to give a curtsy.  “I owe him a conversation, and if he would be pleased to have lunch with me later today, I would be most gracious.”

“I’ll let him know, my lady.”

She turned to walk into the sun-warmed, salty air. It fell on her like a hug.  Taking a deep breath, head held high, she made her way through the city, following the paths of wooden platforms into the cave within the cliff.  Deeper and deeper she descended into the earth.  Beneath one of the carts roped from one side to the other, she observed endless ranks of men going through sword drills.  Slaves, trained to fight from a young age.  After completing their training, once purchased, they took brands on their arms and foreheads, marking them property of whoever bought them—for life. 

They were known to the world as The Branded with reputations as fearsome fighters.  Rumor portrayed them as obedient to death, rebellion beaten out of them as boys.  Their sole purpose of their existence was to fight and to die on the battlefield. 

They won’t be slaves for long, Farrina thought as they passed beneath her.

The rough rock of the cave wall changed to smooth, polished pillars. Crafted by dwarven stonemasons ages ago, the Cerulean Bank served as one of three international banks to house the gold, silver, and reserves of heavenly metals for the nations of Espiria.  Vast sums of Azur’nthian coin lay within the underground labyrinth of their vaults. 

The Azure Bank resided on the coast of Aldreana, across the ocean to the east.  The Indigo Bank lay within the fortified city of Port Miscera in the kingdom of Rhiion.  They swore allegiance to no one, having emerged from the guild cities long ago, but each seemed partial to the nations of their own continent.

Scores of The Branded stood at attention wearing crimson-and-silver armor with the seal of the bank emblazoned upon the breastplate.  It was the safest and most secure place in the land, more protected than Effedeyo.  One of the attendants waited outside as Farrina approached, a dark-skinned man from the Emerald Islands.  She noticed his fingers crusted with gold rings, hoops and bangles adorning his wrists.  He smiled as he approached.

“Venriso, traveler, and how may I be of assistance to you today?” he asked.  He spoke the language of Azur’nth well, despite a thick islander accent.

“Venriso,” she replied with a curtsy.  “I am Farrina Snowchild, Ambassador of Foreign Affairs for Omandu Tirge, King of Azur’nth.  I am here on official business of the Crown.  I need to speak to Ortuli Jomahd.”

The attendant’s eyes went wide, and he took a bow.  He wasted no time ushering her inside.  Massive stone pillars hand-carved with intricate designs held up a vaulted ceiling a hundred feet in the air.  The furniture boasted colors of blue, gold, or some combination of the two.  He seated her within a small chamber decorated with plush-cushioned couches where she would wait for Ortuli.  A tray of grapes and assorted cheeses and a small goblet of delicious white wine followed soon after.

A few minutes later, a slight man in his sixties entered the room with arms extended.  The sleeves of his green and silver robes flowed to the floor.  The garments swallowed him as his twiggy, hairy arms emerged from beneath the folds.  She stood at once and took his hands, allowing him to give each of her cheeks a kiss in turn.  He smiled and motioned for her to sit again.  She obliged as she took another sip of the sweet white wine.

“This is a pleasant surprise, my lady,” he said.

She needed to tread careful, being as truthful as possible without revealing anything to sway him from helping.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” she replied.  “If the Cerulean Bank was unaware of my presence, then it is unlikely anyone else did.” 

As expected, a concerned expression appeared on his face and he waited for her to continue.  She leaned forward, meeting his eyes.

“You know I am always one to follow protocol, Ortuli, but I’m afraid the nature of my business here does not afford me that luxury.”

Farrina removed a roll of parchment hidden between her breasts and placed it on the table.  She motioned for him to open it, and he complied.  Flattening it for a better look, his eyes flicked to the bottom to examine the circular wax seal of Azur’nth before reading.

“Lady Farrina, this is a substantial withdraw of funds!” he exclaimed.

“It is,” she agreed.  “And I don’t need it in coin.  Honestly, it would better if you to make the purchases for me.”

“What does Omandu desire that costs so much?” he demanded.

“Ten thousand of your best among The Branded, a sea-worthy vessel, an honorable captain and crew to man it, and a personal bodyguard to ensure my safe passage.” 

Eyes wide, Ortuli gasped and looked at her bewildered.

“The throne of Azur’nth has never purchased a slave army!  Why does Omandu want ten thousand of The Branded?” 

Farrina smiled, glad to see him questioning the purchase of soldiers and not her voyage. “For love,” she replied.  “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of Sa’afu Coralyn, Queen of Ysaht.” 

Ortuli’s eyes darkened at the mention of her name and Farrina thought for a moment she might have made a grave error.

“I know of the Tigress Queen.  They say she is as ruthless as she is beautiful.  I heard she executed two chieftains who opposed her and now rules over four tribes.”

“It’s true,” Farrina affirmed.  “She will unify her people and her reign will begin the start of a very powerful kingdom.”

“What does love have to do with this?” Ortuli objected.  “I thought your king commissioned Sanctus Dei to invade their lands.” 

He asked all the questions Farrina expected and her weeks-long trek across the desert afforded her time to rehearse her answers in advance.  With precise delivery, she seized the opportunity to bait him.

“Quite the contrary, Ortuli, you see, Sanctus Dei is acting independently from the Crown.  They have kept the nature of their crusade secret from us.  There is division in our kingdom with the summit so close. I fear we are on the brink of a civil war and if we do not act quickly it may be too late.

“Coralyn will succeed in uniting her people and in driving out Sanctus Dei—that is clear to me now—but as you said, she is ruthless.  She will want vengeance against Sanctus Dei or expect Omandu to hold them accountable, unless a peaceful agreement can be made.

“Omandu Tirge cannot remain a bachelor forever.  He must marry and make legitimate heirs to the throne.  What better way to prevent a potentially disastrous conflict between our nations than a marriage between him and Sa’afu Coralyn?  To say, ‘it is for love,’ is not entirely accurate, I confess, but you understand my meaning.”

Ortuli nodded and rubbed the stubble gathering on his chin, his expression thoughtful.  Suddenly, he laughed, nodding in approval at the scenario Farrina conveyed for him.  If any of what she said came to pass it would only end well for him.  The small, scattered tribes of Ysaht did not use the services of the Cerulean Bank.  As a unified kingdom, however, they would need a treasury, uniform currency, and someone to mint and distribute their coins.  Farrina watched as Ortuli drew a line connecting the dots drawn by her proposal.

“A union between the Tigress Queen and Eagle King,” he mused aloud.  “It sounds like songs the bards will sing for generations.”

“Like history the scholars will write,” Farrina added in agreement.

Together, they smoothed out the details and discussed what ship merchants would be best, how long it would take to make these arrangements, and the like.

“What symbol would you like The Branded to bear?” Ortuli asked.  Then he added, “I can commission one of the metalsmiths to make a brand of the crown and seven swords of Azur’nth.  Or perhaps the eagle of House Tirge?”

“Neither,” Farrina insisted.

“I did not mean to presume,” Ortuli said.  “What emblem would my lady prefer?”

She overlooked this detail in her planning but her proclivity for improvisation brought a daring plan to mind.

“They will not be given brands, and from this day forth they will no longer be referred to as ‘The Branded,’ but as ‘The Brandless.’  Nine thousand and nine hundred will be given as an engagement gift to the Tigress Queen from Omandu Tirge, and one hundred of them will act as my personal guard.”

“This has never been done before,” Ortuli said, raising an eyebrow. “The slaves consider their brand a rite of passage.  Without it they have nowhere to belong.  They may feel as if they are being slighted—cheated out of their right to be called boys no longer.”

“Let me address them,” Farrina suggested.  “They will not feel slighted, I assure you.”

And that was how she ended up on a platform facing ten thousand men standing at attention, staring up at her.  They wore the same uniform: leather sandals, grieves, a cloth to gird up their loins, and simple, brass-studded cuirasses.  Each man carried a short sword at his belt, and a shield and spear in each hand.  Not one of them bore the healing burn scars on their arms or foreheads.

“Listen well, soldiers!” she began.  “Each and every one of you has been purchased by the Crown of Azur’nth and now belongs to Sa’afu Coralyn, Tigress Queen of Ysaht.  She is a just and benevolent queen and will make good use of you.  You may have heard the story of the Battle of Jahdu; she allowed any slave the opportunity to fight in exchange for their freedom and that of their kin.  Many of them fought and died there; many more now live as free men among her people.

“But you are not servants to fetch wine as they were.  No!  You are worth far more!  You are warriors with reputation reaching across the seas.  Perhaps she shall make free men of you as well.  Your former masters have informed you to wear no brands, and from this day forward will be known as “The Brandless.”  Earn your honor by helping your new queen secure her kingdom and the rewards you shall reap will be greater than any slave dares to dream.”

With this, they slammed the butts of their spears on the ground in rhythm.  It shook the cave.  With each thrust in the air, they let out a shout.  Soon, a symphony of echoes surrounded her, and ten thousand men stood ready to obey her command. 

Farrina set out with the goal in mind to bring an end to Vinigo’s crusade and promised to help Coralyn in any way she could.  This allowed her to keep her word on both counts though. 

South called to Farrina from across the sea; Rhiion held the answers she sought. 

Who am I?  What am I?  And what is my place in this world now?