Fractured Earth Saga 1: Apocalypse Orphan (29 page)

“Shit!” Wolf spat in disgust.

Chapter 21

“I
gave King Waylan your idea of placing a holo-tent on top of the castle,” Wolf said, “but how do I explain how it got up there when he asks?”

“Do you see the two red buttons on your watch, Commander? Press both buttons together three times,” Syn said with a perky smile. “

Wolf pressed the two buttons and a carbon copy of Syn materialized in front of him. “How did you do this?” he asked in amazement.

“Your new watch is a holo-emitter. It’s nuclear-powered by an alpha source, and the hologram it projects is just that—a projection with no substance. It does have an amplifier that will allow me to become substantial for about five minutes in an emergency. Do not let anyone touch it or walk through it. When you get to the roof, shut it off by pressing the two buttons four times. My hologram will disappear. I will reappear using the ship’s emitters and all will be back to normal.”

Wolf found it strange listening to two copies of Syn talk to him in stereo, and he again thought about how lovely a woman Doctor Mason must have been.
What a waste
, he mused and then asked, “What about the equipment we will need?”

“Go back to the castle. Assemble thirty men and meet me at Haakon’s homestead. I will unload four or five of the smaller cargo containers from the ship. They will be empty, but only you and I will know that. You’ll order the men to haul the crates back to the castle and up to the garden area on the roof. We’ll set up the tent and inform everyone that the medical equipment was loaded in the containers.”

“That’s brilliant, Syn! I’ll meet you at Haakon’s in three days,” Wolf affirmed with an approving smile. Without warning, he pulled Syn into his arms and kissed her passionately. It didn’t matter to him that she was not real—she was real to him. Releasing her, he touched her cheek affectionately and turned, departing the ship for the planet’s surface.

Wolf returned to the tent city outside the castle and found General Titus barking orders at a platoon of marching men. The old man looked confused as Wolf approached and asked, “What is wrong, my lord? I saw you depart into the forest…but now here you stand.”

“I have reconsidered your offer, General. I need a detail of thirty men who can travel fast. We will have several heavy containers with medical equipment to bring back to the castle and I can’t do it alone.”

Titus smiled broadly, pleased that his soldiers would finally see some action. He called out to the officer in charge of the platoon marching before him. “Captain Eras! Our leader needs your men to accompany him on a journey. How soon can you be ready?”

Eras snapped to attention. He was the shortest man on the field, but his forearms moved with muscles that looked as if he could rip a tree out of the ground. He had a pleasant face that reminded Wolf of the actor Errol Flynn who had played Robin Hood so many centuries ago.

Eras saluted smartly and replied, “Give me a quarter turn of the hour and we will be ready for the march.”

“Make it so, Captain!”

Eras called to his sergeant-at-arms and discussed the details of the mission, assembling a detail of thirty men. Fifteen minutes later, as promised, the men stood at attention behind Eras, and he announced, “We are ready, my lord. Where shall we go?”

“To Haakon’s homestead. I will lead the way,” said Wolf.

Eras led his detail of thirty strong fighters into the forest. The seasoned captain had joined Jonar’s army three years ago against the wishes of his father, who held vast lands to the east of Waylan’s kingdom. His father was a renowned fighter and a good king. When Sylvaine had come seeking his support of Jonar, he refused. He didn’t like the pompous Templar; but Eras was young, and Sylvaine regaled him with promises of the glory to be won, stirring the young man’s imagination. Eras wanted to prove himself as good a warrior as his father had been. After days of pleading his cause, his father reluctantly granted him a force of five hundred men. He counseled Eras to be honorable, brave, and above all, chivalrous—to uphold justice and bring glory to his family name. Now, three years later, Eras had won little honor; the glory he had won was fleeting; and chivalry was of no concern to the men he served. He was now seeing with his own eyes what his father had known years before—Jonar was not worth following.

Eras recalled a series of events that had shaken his loyalty to Jonar, but three stood out in his mind. The first was just over a year ago when he had come to Waylan’s castle on Jonar’s orders, leading his small detachment in reserve to the main army. Jonar’s men had attempted to force the massive castle gates, and Eras remembered when the hand-to-hand battle erupted at Waylan’s damaged portcullis. He had seen the aged king thunder out to the battlefield, swinging a sword that made naught of armor or shield. The old man led the charge himself, fighting on the front lines as an ordinary warrior, and wearing a grim smile that terrified Eras but at the same time filled him with wonder. The king’s skill was extraordinary. Filled with remorse over the evil lord he served and yearning to serve great men, Eras had deliberately kept his men out of the fighting that day.

Waylan’s assault on Jonar’s men during that battle had been calculated and deadly. The old king had waded into the teeth of Jonar’s best soldiers and champions, bowling them over and throwing their ranks into disarray as he methodically chopped them into dog meat. Soldier after soldier engaged the king and won a plot of blood-soaked ground for an early burial. No mortal man could hope to withstand his onslaught. When Jonar ordered Sylvaine and his Templars to attack Waylan, lightning, fire, and strange lights seemed to strike the king, scorching the earth around him but failing to slow his relentless advance. After several powerful Templars had been slain, Jonar ordered a retreat. That was when the Old Guard arrived—and they did not look like the decrepit grandsires he’d heard Jonar’s men ridicule. They warded their king and fought like possessed men, slaying as many of Jonar’s warriors as they could. They showed such bravery.

The second incident that tested Eras’s loyalty was the botched assassination attempt on Waylan after Wolf had returned to the castle. Eras had been one of the few men who escaped that ambush. He saw Sylvaine throw a spear at the old king, and he watched this stranger Wolf take the spear in his chest and walk away without a mark.

Jonar’s mistreatment of the princess Jhondra and using the defenseless girl as bait was the final straw. His father had told him to be chivalrous, and this cowardly act had marred his soul. Eras could not be a part of such an unscrupulous army nor serve a man so devoid of honor. He openly questioned the tactic, which brought a tongue-lashing from Sylvaine. When Eras stood his ground, saying it was dishonorable to use a woman in such a manner. Sylvaine slapped him in the face and demoted him to the rank of a common soldier. Enraged, Eras had decided to leave Jonar’s army with his men the next morning, ashamed that he had wasted three years in the service of a tyrant. Then he saw Wolf emerge from the castle and take on Jonar’s army of several thousand troops armed with nothing but his light weapon.

Eras yearned to be a trusted warrior and to serve a benevolent king until his old age. He wanted to be a part of something good. This outsider who called himself Wolf was a man to shake the petty leaders of the lands, and his aged friend Waylan was a worthy lord. Eras had been the first to bend a knee and the first to receive the silver disk—he called it the Wolf's Circle—that now hung from a leather string around his neck. He would serve Wolf until he was too old to fight, or he would die for him. When Waylan’s nobles asked who had leadership ability, his own men had singled Eras out; and when Onel asked for his loyalty to Waylan and his illustrious champion, Eras pledged without hesitation. The other soldiers who had surrendered to Wolf also vowed to fight by the mighty warrior’s side.
Yes,
Eras thought,
I will be a loyal soldier for so great a man.
His reminiscing was interrupted by Wolf’s voice.

“Captain Eras, tell me of Jonar. What is he like?”

“Yes, my lord. Ten years ago, a man wandered in from the great wasteland to the east. He carried several books, and inside were wondrous things: pictures of animals, dwellings, and other things no one had ever seen. The man studied these books, and soon, he was able to make some of the objects described in the books. The things he made were marvelous, and Jonar performed miracles. He healed the sick and made life easier for all. He claimed he had discovered a vast storehouse of knowledge out in the wilderness, and he took his people to an enormous hole in the ground. They dug into the earth and hillsides, cleaned up the rubble, and built a castle over this mysterious hole in a matter of months.”

Eras gazed off into the distance, remembering, and then he continued: “Thousands heard about the miracles Jonar performed and flocked to his banner because of them. He fed us, healed us, and showed us incredible wonders. Soon, other tribes tried to conquer Jonar. He unleashed his great knowledge and slaughtered them, using strange weapons he made. He then conquered the lesser kings and tribes in the area. For the last few years, he has been subjugating the lands. King Waylan and a few other mighty warrior-kings are all that remain.”

“You said he had strange weapons? Tell me about them.”

“I do not know what they are, my lord, but some were terrifying. On one occasion, he tied several animal hides to stones and threw them into a village well. Five days later, the people all grew tired, and then they suffered coughs and fevers. They seemed to recover, but when we returned two days later, everyone was dead.”

“Probably anthrax, Commander,” Syn suggested in Wolf’s ear.

Eras looked around with guilt in his eyes and lowered his voice. “Then, he came with the loud weapons. They made men’s ears and noses bleed. We had to keep melted beeswax in our ears to protect us. Still, we lost men to it. Jonar warned that he had other, even more powerful weapons he had discovered, and he would soon figure them out and unleash them on the people.”

“What a monster,” Wolf interrupted with anger in his eyes. “Jonar must be stopped.”

“Yes, my lord. I regret I ever joined him.”

Wolf studied the face of the man who had sworn to serve him. He appeared to be a good man, but time would tell.

* * *

The sun was setting and shadows danced over the forest as Wolf and his men set up camp in a clearing. They were less than ten miles from Haakon’s homestead and had made better time than Wolf expected. His new fighters were eager to prove themselves. They had gritted their teeth and pushed beyond normal human endurance, trying to keep up with his giant strides. Wolf set the guards and then retired to his bedroll.

It was still dark, and dawn was an hour away when Syn’s voice yelled in Wolf’s ear bud, rousing him from a sound sleep.

“Commander! Wake up, Commander!”

“What?” Wolf yelled, bolting awake and rousing several men sleeping nearby.

“More than one hundred bio signatures are closing in on your position, Commander.”

“Are they human?”

“I detect both human and animal bio signatures,” Syn replied.

Wolf scrambled to his feet and shook several men awake, urging them to rouse the others and arm themselves. He dumped a stack of wood on the campfire, which flared and illuminated the perimeter of the clearing. All of the men were awake and armored with their weapons drawn when bloodcurdling howls erupted from the forest. To Wolf, it sounded like a pack of Tasmanian devils, and his soldiers stared into the darkness, trembling with fear. Captain Eras approached Wolf and said “Jonar has sent his Nanna to kill us. They are devilishly hard to kill. We may die here before the sun rises.”

“What are these Nanna, Eras?”

“You will see, my lord. They are upon us.”

“Commander, I ran a translation in all known languages. The word ‘nanna’ means daring or brave. In Norse legend, Nanna was a goddess who died of grief when her husband Balder was killed. Be careful, Wolf. There are one hundred of them,” Syn warned and then quickly added, “I’m coming, Commander.”

Wolf did not answer. At that moment, a wave of fantastically dressed warriors surged into the clearing, each holding two enormous animals that resembled large wolves with tiger stripes on their backs and tails. Each animal was about the size of a full-grown mastiff. Their handlers were dressed in tight-fitting, black leather outfits. Some were armed with whips and chains; others had short daggers, and each wore a black devil’s head mask.

Wolf snorted derisively, thinking these warriors looked more like characters in a bondage video on ancient Earth. Knowing he was invincible and feeling confident he could protect his men from harm, he had trouble keeping a straight face. Suddenly, as the figures came out into the light and he looked closer, he inhaled sharply and muttered, “Shit! They’re women.”

“Aye, my lord, sometimes they take men prisoners and torture them for days. They have an herb that makes a man virile to the point of insanity. The men are used nonstop and when they have no physical stamina left, the prisoners are fed to the Nannas’ pets.”

The fierce band of Amazon warriors encircled Wolf’s men, their animals snarling and howling with bone-chilling ferocity. One woman stepped forward, sniffing the air in an animal-like manner, and with a wave of her hand, the howling stopped. She handed her leashes to the handler next to her, snapped her fingers twice, and all the animals sat in unison. The woman boldly approached the besieged men and demanded in a disdainful voice, “Who is in command here?”