Fractured Earth Saga 1: Apocalypse Orphan (41 page)

“I will rip his head off with my bare hands,” Wolf muttered through clenched teeth. His face flushed crimson with rage. “Why would he do this?”

“He does it to push you over the edge and bring you outside to fight on his terms,” said Onel.

“I will kill him. He will get what he wants now. I will destroy Jonar and everyone with him,” Wolf vowed.

“Commander, a large army is approaching to attack the gate. I estimate eleven thousand,” Syn reported in Wolf’s ear.

“King Waylan, alert your men. Jonar approaches with an army of thousands. Prepare for battle!” Wolf shouted.

Waylan flexed his arms and ordered, “Knights! Squires! Spearmen! Prepare to repel the invaders!”

“I will go out to attack,” Wolf said to Waylan, grabbing a sword from a man at arms and tucking it into his belt. He then took a large, ornate war ax from the wall and walked outside. The portcullis slammed down behind him with a thud that sent a tremor through the earth underfoot.

“Commander, don’t be silly. Get inside now!” Syn yelled.

Wolf took off running towards the enemy as the first wave of ruffians charged across the plain, screaming insanely and brandishing an assortment of primitive weapons. He leapt into the air and came down in the midst of the enemy like a bomb, sending men and body parts scattering in all directions. Using his fists, he knocked down one cursing man after another, trying to avoid killing them. He blocked several sword thrusts with his large war ax and urged the attacking men to retreat. Then, he saw their vacant stares and foaming mouths, and heard their insane babbling, and he knew these men were lost forever.

With a deep sigh of regret, Wolf muttered, “So be it!” He drew his sword and brought it down with one hand, hacking a man in two with an overhead swing. Swinging his ax at another man, he cut his head off cleanly. He waded into the onrushing sea of attackers, wielding the sword with one hand and the ax with the other. Men went down one after another as he cut them apart. Even in his rage over Haakon’s senseless murder, he didn’t want to kill these men—he wanted their leaders. He kept telling those who faced him to surrender, to run away, but they just kept coming.

Waylan was watching from the castle gate. He had sent a runner for his battle armor, and he was rallying his spearmen to the gate. As he looked on, ruffians attacked from all sides. Wolf rose above the blood-soaked plain, climbing up a hill of death and sinking moments later into a pile of mangled flesh. Waylan roared with pride that such a brave warrior was fighting for him. He pulled a sword from a guard and declared, “I will assist him. No man fights my battles alone!”

Onel grabbed his brother’s shoulder and asked, “Are you sure you are fit?”

“I have not felt better in years,” Waylan answered. “Wolf’s woman even removed the metal from my leg. Let me go, brother.”

Onel paled and demanded, “Give me the fragment.”

“Wolf’s woman has it. Now release me!” Waylan growled, becoming agitated.

“Waylan, wait! You can’t go out there and fight without your armor. Wolf is invincible. You are not,” Onel argued.

“How can I stand here and watch him fight? Am I not a man? Am I not a king?” Waylan struggled to wrench his arm free from Onel’s surprisingly strong grip.

“Yes, you are king, but I am oldest and you will wait for your armor!” Onel said with more force than Waylan had ever heard from him before. Waylan stopped struggling and replied, “Yes, my brother. I will concede to you as oldest.”

Wolf’s slaughter of the ruffians raged on for another fifteen minutes. Finally, two soldiers approached Waylan, carrying the king’s massive armor. The men were exhausted and perspiring from the effort.

“Get my armor on me at once!” the king shouted, pointing out at the battlefield. “Look at him, men. There is a true warrior!” Waylan stripped, and his squires dressed him in his battle armor. Grabbing his sword, he yelled, “Open the gate!”

Onel gazed out at the battlefield and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Wolf, a one-man killing machine, was mowing down Jonar’s vast army. “Sire, you have but a few hundred spearmen. Wait until the rest arrive,” he urged.

“A brave warrior out there fights for me! Can I do any less for him?” Waylan shouted. “Old Guard! We have fought many battles, vanquished many enemies, and slain many foes. I ask you one more time, my loyal friends, give me your courage. Give me your hearts. Give me your power to defeat these evil men who attack us, and to uphold justice. They laugh at our age, tell jokes about our waning strength. Let us show them what men once roamed this land while they were sucking milk from their mothers’ breasts! I am Waylan of Springdale, and I say
‘Death to Jonar!’
”

Waylan’s men yelled the chorus, “Death to Jonar,” chanting it again and again like a mantra. The massive portcullis opened with a creaking groan. Waylan and his Old Guard surged through the gate, hitting the enemy ranks like a freight train. The king was still sore, but he came on like a whirlwind and tried to battle to Wolf’s side, leaving his Old Guard warriors to clean up his leftovers. While Wolf allowed swords, knives, and clubs to strike him, and he dealt death to anyone close by, Waylan avoided the strikes aimed at him. He swung his heavy sword like a willow switch, striking death wherever it touched as he fought his way towards Wolf.

Sylvaine spotted Wolf and walked towards him, slaying his own ruffians who blocked his path. He carried a small wooden box. Placing it on the ground, he flipped a switch and turned a dial that clicked. He then shoved the box under a bloody corpse to conceal it. At that same instant, the wooden box that held Haakon’s body at the castle gate started ticking.

Sylvaine moved closer to Wolf. When he was face to face, he hissed, “So, buffoon, we meet again. My master has a surprise for you.” Wolf ran at Sylvaine and they exchanged sword strokes. Sylvaine was quick and dexterous but knew he couldn’t withstand a direct stroke, so he used redirection to avoid Wolf’s mighty sword.

“You are no hero, you jackass. You kill weak men with ease, but see how skill evens the score,” Sylvaine shouted. He landed a series of slashes to Wolf’s body but merely shredded his clothes.

“I will kill you! Why would you murder an insane man?” Wolf shouted, rage in his eyes.

“I did the world a favor. I did you a favor, too, by clearing your way to his whore wife’s heart. That lunatic told us of your love for his Nanna wife, how you coveted her. You are a wife stealer, an adulterer—a lecher of a man. How could you betray a friend for his wife? Now that I have killed him, your conscience can be clear. She can be your whore now,” Sylvaine said with a laugh, backing towards the box he had concealed.

“You foul-mouthed bastard! How dare you insult her so?” Wolf shouted, jumping at Sylvaine. Suddenly, the box Sylvaine had placed on the ground made a humming noise. The sound grew louder and Wolf dropped his sword, holding his ears in pain.

Sylvaine walked up to Wolf as he fell to his knees. With a cruel laugh, he declared, “My master was right. You can be hurt.” He kicked Wolf’s battle ax out of reach and placed a heavy boot on his shoulder, forcing him over onto his back.

“Commander, are you all right? My sensors show you’re in distress,” Syn yelled.

“Syn, help me,” Wolf croaked weakly.

“Wolf!” Syn screamed in a panicked voice.

“Syn, what’s wrong?” Nala demanded, appearing in the doorway with a frightened look.

“Wolf is in trouble. His vital signs are weak. But don’t worry, Nala, I am about to show you Wolf’s boat.” The ship rose and the tent disappeared as Syn lifted off and navigated out to the battlefield. Only Reon saw the tent vanish, and to his young mind, it was just magic.

“Wolf is in trouble? What could hurt him?” Nala shouted, terrified by Syn’s demeanor. Then, her face paled and she asked, “Jesu, are we
flying?
”

“Jonar has discovered Wolf’s weakness. He is trying to use it to kill him. Yes, we are airborne.”

Nala’s shock was short-lived as her concern went back to Wolf. She thought of him dying and yelled, “No! This can’t be. We must help him!”

“I am losing power!” Syn hissed. “It’s another jamming signal. This one is disrupting my circuitry and scrambling the ship's electronics. The frequency is rotating, and I can’t isolate it. If I go any closer, we will lose power and crash. Damn it, I can’t even get a weapon lock.” With tears in her eyes, Syn whispered hoarsely, “I can’t help him, Nala.”

“How close can you get? Can you put us on the ground?”

“I can get about thirty-five feet above the signal. It is too far to jump, Nala.” Then, Syn had an idea and added, “Wait…I can lower you with the robotic arm.”

Syn split in two—Tomb Raider Syn navigated the ship while Nurse Syn grabbed Nala’s arm and headed for the bay. She took a harness off the wall and wrapped it around Nala, saying, “Pull this lever like this to detach the rope.” Syn demonstrated the release mechanism. “When you are close to Wolf, detach it.”

Nala was wringing her hands and seemed to be far away. Syn grabbed her shoulders and warned, “Nala, don't detach until you are seven feet or less from the ground. If you detach too soon, you could break your legs.”

“I will wait until I am close. Take me to Wolf.”

Picking up an ear bud from a nearby table, Syn showed it to Nala and said, “I need to put this in your ear. It will allow us to talk to one another.” Nala nodded, and Syn pressed the tiny device onto the triangular fossa of Nala's right ear, applying momentary pressure.

“Can you hear me?” Syn asked, and Nala nodded in amazement.

“Good luck, Nala. Please save Wolf,” Syn whispered. She engaged the mechanical arm, pulling Nala from the ship, and dangled her over the battlefield.

* * *

Sylvaine flashed a triumphant smile and his eyes roamed across the battlefield looking for Waylan. The old king was surrounded by ruffians and would have his hands full for some time. Sylvaine raised his visor and spat in Wolf’s face. “So, clown, how does it feel to be in pain? Does it hurt? Here, let me help you,” Sylvaine taunted, swinging his sword and hitting Wolf in the head with it. A small trickle of blood ran from a paper-thin gash.

“Ah! My master’s magic makes you human!” Sylvaine smirked with delight. He struck at Wolf’s neck, and another thin, bleeding laceration appeared. “You ass in a lion's skin, I told you I would kill you. We know your secret.” He pulled a long, thin dagger out of his belt. Wolf was lying on his back, holding his ears in pain. Sylvaine placed the knife on Wolf’s chest above his heart and said, “My master sends his regards.” He pushed down, twisting the dagger. The tip of the weapon started a pinprick of blood as he leaned his full weight on it. The blade sank a little deeper into Wolf’s chest as Sylvaine rocked it back and forth. Wolf gritted his teeth in pain and began singing the Hopi death chant.

“Noooooooo!” Syn screamed as she translated the song.

Sylvaine was jubilant as he saw the trickle of blood flow from the wound, and then the knife sank another eighth of an inch deeper. He hit bone, but twisted the blade around, looking for a way into Wolf’s chest. The knife penetrated deeper, and Sylvaine leered as he said, “Now, you die, buffoon!”

Suddenly, Sylvaine grunted in pain as he was thrown several feet into the air and away from Wolf’s body.

“Keep your filthy hands off my man!” Nala screamed. She leaned on her left foot, poised for battle. Her right ankle was visibly dislocated. As Syn had feared, Nala had detached from the harness early, dropping fifteen feet to the ground.

Sylvaine climbed to his feet and glared at Nala with contempt. “So, the Nanna slut has arrived. You’re the one Haakon cursed before he died.”

“You lie! Haakon is not dead.”

“He is dead, bitch, because I killed him. I took the items he stole and delivered them to my master. He died like the weak dog he was, but he saved his last breath to curse you, whore.”

Sylvaine ran at Nala, laughing and swinging his sword. She jumped to the side, trying to balance on her left foot, and grimaced in pain from the movements of her dislocated right foot. Sylvaine signaled to a knot of ruffians and they converged on her, driving her back from Wolf’s body, although the attack left three ruffians dead.

Sylvaine approached Wolf, who was now unconscious, and kicked him in the face. Then, he dropped to a knee and placed the tip of his dagger in Wolf’s right eye. With a wicked laugh, Sylvaine glared at Nala and hissed, “Say goodbye to him, bitch.”

Time ran in slow motion for Nala as she watched Sylvaine place his dagger in Wolf’s eye. She took a step forward but lost her footing and fell. A swarm of ruffians toppled her and pinned her down on the ground, laughing, punching, grabbing her breasts, and tearing at her clothes. She struggled ferociously but could not fight them off. One man drew his dagger and slashed her across the chest, just above her breasts. He laughed and cut another deep gash above the first, slowly working his way up to her throat. Nala fought wildly, but her eyes weren't on the blade the ruffian held to her throat. Her gaze was on Sylvaine as he taunted her, moving his dagger back and forth from Wolf's right eye to his left as she watched helplessly. It felt like an eternity passed as she closed her eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry, Syn. I couldn’t save him.”

A horn blast sounded from the battlements. Sylvaine hesitated and looked up to see the castle gates opening and another wave of Old Guard fighters pouring out onto the field. Severed heads and arms flew in all directions as the old men swarmed forward. The ruffians holding down Nala disappeared in sprays of blood as Waylan finally reached her. He smashed one man’s face with the pommel of his sword and swung backhanded, cutting off the head off another. Drawing his poniard, he stabbed a third ruffian in the back and then knelt, grabbing the one who had Nala pinned. With a mighty twist, he broke the man’s neck. Nala scrambled to her feet, bloody but still ready to fight. She fought at Waylan’s side as he battled to reach Wolf.