Fractured Earth Saga 1: Apocalypse Orphan (42 page)

Sylvaine held his ground, sheathing his dagger, and he stood with his sword drawn, the point on the ground. He had gloated over his victory, and it had cost him his chance to slay the outsider. “So Waylan, we meet at last,” he sneered as the king confronted him.

“Yes. I have come to kill you. Now get away from that man.”

“This man?” asked Sylvaine, kicking Wolf in the face. “I think not. He dies here, now.”

Waylan advanced, swinging his sword in a figure-eight pattern, and Sylvaine barely got his sword up in time to deflect. As the two men battled, Nala limped to Wolf’s side. Several ruffians came to defend Sylvaine, but Waylan hacked and slashed until only the silver knight remained.

“Syn, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Nala…just barely. The jamming device that prevents me from landing isn’t disrupting communications. How is Wolf?”

“He has several wounds. One is deep in his chest, above his heart. He’s bleeding, Syn!”

“Is he breathing, Nala?”

“I think he’s dead,” Nala sobbed.

Syn’s circuits heated up and the sky above the plain rumbled from the ship’s engines accelerating to full power. Many of the combatants on the field stopped and gazed up at the sky in wonder at the loud, rumbling noise.

“Is he breathing, Nala? Put your ear on his chest.”

“Yes, he’s breathing, but he won’t wake up. Wolf, my love, come back to us! Please come back to us,” Nala cried.

“Get a hold of yourself, Nala! Something is affecting Wolf. Look around for anything unusual or out of place…something close to him.”

Nala rubbed the tears from her eyes and looked around. She saw nothing but mutilated bodies and abandoned weapons. “I don’t know what I am looking for, Syn.”

“Damn it, Nala, look for something that shouldn’t be there. Get up, damn you, and walk around him. Move a few feet out in all directions.”

“All right, Syn.” Nala limped in a circle around Wolf, searching the ground for anything that didn’t belong on a battlefield. She glanced briefly at Sylvaine and Waylan as the two men fought, neither retreating. Sylvaine intensified his attack, driving Waylan back. The old king had to turn and defend himself from a ruffian, allowing Sylvaine to run to Nala’s position. She crouched, brandishing her dagger and raising her whip. Before he engaged her, Sylvaine stopped and turned back to Waylan, who had eviscerated his attacker and was charging like a stampeding dintar at the Templar’s back. Sylvaine hesitated for a moment, indecisive about which of the two to attack. He looked at Nala and then Waylan, crouched, and waved his sword back and forth like a dog wagging its tail. He threatened both but never moved a step from where he stood. It seemed to Nala that he was trying to protect a certain area and did not want to leave where he stood. She glanced down and spotted a small box, partially concealed by a dead soldier’s legs.

“Syn, could it be in a box?”

“Maybe, Nala…do you see one?”

Nala pulled her whip and attacked Sylvaine. He stood his ground, repelling her whip as well as Waylan’s sword. Several of Sylvaine’s men came to his aid, and Waylan was forced to engage them while Nala battled Sylvaine. She changed her attack, snapping at Sylvaine’s face from many different angles and driving him back several feet. The tactic gave her the chance to snag the box with her whip and pull it to her.

“Nanna bitch! NO!” Sylvaine yelled, charging at her. He raised his sword, preparing to deliver a vast, overhand blow that would smash through her hastily raised dagger and split her skull. But Waylan charged Sylvaine from behind and let out an animal roar. Sylvaine felt death’s cold breath as his nape hairs rose on the back of his neck and he spun around, blocking Waylan’s well-aimed sword that would have cut him in half.

“I got it, Syn. Should I smash it?”

“No. Don’t do that, Nala. It is probably rigged to blow up. It will kill you.”

“I will gladly give my life for Wolf!” Nala cried. “I will smash the box. Goodbye, Syn. Tell Wolf that I loved him.”

“Nala, don’t! In his weakened condition, Wolf will also die. Just get it away from him. The farther away you can take it the better. Run, Nala!”

Nala hooked her whip on her belt clasp. Holding the box in one hand and her dagger in the other, she limped away. She had walked only a few yards when she had to sit down. Placing the box and her knife on the ground, she grabbed her dislocated ankle with both hands. She took a deep breath and twisted it back into place, letting out an anguished cry of pain.

“Nala, what happened? Are you all right?” Syn asked.

“I had to put my ankle back into its socket. It still hurts, but I can walk faster now,” Nala answered. She got to her feet, picked up the box and her dagger, and headed away from the battle towards an area where the Old Guard still fought.

“Stop her, men!” Sylvaine shouted as he continued to fend off Waylan.

A band of ruffians ran at Nala, but she was ready. She spun and flipped on one hand, using her tumbling skills to avoid the men. A dagger buried itself in her right shoulder, sending her sprawling on the ground, and she dropped the box. She scrambled to her feet and threw her own dagger into the face of one man, then groaned as she pulled the ruffian’s knife from her shoulder and continued to fight. A fist struck her square on the chin and she saw stars. She reflexively swung her blade up in a disemboweling thrust and felt it sink into flesh. A man screamed in pain. She blinked several times, trying to focus her eyes as she flailed her dagger back and forth in a defensive stance.

When Nala’s vision cleared, she saw that she still faced four drynox-crazed ruffians. She was injured and slower than usual, so she absorbed blows she would have otherwise avoided. After several minutes of intense fighting, a dozen Old Guard warriors surrounded her, repelling the drug-crazed ruffians and slaying them.

“Your king fights alone over there,” Nala said, pointing. “Help him.”

The old warriors swarmed over the ruffians who were pursuing her, and Nala ran as fast as her injured ankle would carry her. Suddenly, Syn materialized in front of her. Nala stumbled into her arms, exhausted and weak from loss of blood.

“Here it is,” she said, handing the box to Syn’s flickering image. The hologram wavered and disappeared, letting Nala and the box drop to the ground. Tired, bleeding, and barely holding on, Nala was too weak to stand. Sobbing, she asked, “Syn, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I can’t hold my shape there,” Syn responded, her voice breaking up in Nala’s ear bud. “But I scanned the box and it contains explosives. It has more wires and dials than their first device, and it’s probably enough to kill everyone near Wolf. Nala, you must take it into the forest so I can destroy it. Take the box into the woods and set it down…place this by it.” A small pack of gel with a blinking light dropped from overhead.

“What is this?” Nala asked, picking up the packet.

“It is a tracking signal,” Syn explained. “It will help me locate the box and destroy the device that is hurting Wolf.”

Nala struggled to her feet as Syn’s voice in her ear urged her to hurry. She ran towards the woods, limping on her damaged ankle but determined to save the life of the man she loved. She plunged into the thicket and headed into the forest. After twenty minutes, Syn’s crackling voice said, “That should be far enough. Put the box on the ground, Nala, and run back towards the castle as fast as you can.”

Nala did as she was told and then began the trek back to the castle. She tried to run, but she was exhausted and in pain, and she moved in slow motion. As she entered a small clearing, she looked up and was startled by a rope dangling in front of her. She forced a weak smile as she thought,
Who else could it be from?
She tied the rope around her waist, and moments later, she was hoisted into the air. Syn appeared and extended a hand, helping Nala climb up into the ship.

The ship rose over the forest as Syn carried Nala to a bench and gently laid her down. When she was a safe distance away from Jonar’s sonic device, she used the tracking device on the gel pack to pinpoint the box and then aimed the ship’s laser weapon, detonating the howler. The explosion leveled the forest for a mile in all directions. Syn turned the ship and flew back towards the battlefield to see if she could help Wolf, but the jamming signal was still disrupting the ship’s navigation and prevented her from descending to the plain.

* * *

The battle raged for several hours. Some of Jonar's ruffians went insane from the pure drynox, discarding their swords and attacking with their bare hands and teeth. Waylan fought valiantly to protect Wolf’s unconscious body. He never moved more than a few feet from Wolf, fighting incredible odds as Sylvaine sent his men in waves to drive the king away from the fallen warrior’s body.

Syn called Wolf’s name again and again in his earpiece. “Wolf! Wolf! Wake up, damn you!” He heard her calling his name from afar. The terrible buzzing pain was gone, but he still felt pain in his chest, head, and neck. His eyes opened and his head throbbed with pain as he mumbled, “Syn?”

“Commander! I was afraid you were dead,” Syn gasped, relief in her voice. “Nala, he lives! You saved him!” Nala broke down sobbing and then fainted from exhaustion and loss of blood as Nurse Syn tended to her wounds.

Wolf rolled over onto his elbows and knees. He had an excruciating migraine and was seeing double. He struggled to his feet and asked, “Syn? What happened?”

“You were hit with an LRAD, Commander. It knocked you unconscious and you’ve been out for hours. I can’t land down there because a jamming device is preventing me from getting within a mile of you. I can only fly thirty-five feet above the battlefield. I know where you are because I am tracking your earpiece. We’ve destroyed the LRAD…but I can’t help you.”

Wolf’s vision focused and he saw the men fighting around him. The roar of the battle exploded in his ears as his full hearing returned. It appeared Jonar’s ruffians were going to win. The Old Guard still fought, but they were old men and age was creeping up on them. Some clutched at their chests and dropped to the ground as Jonar’s men speared them like fish in a barrel. Others were exhausted and couldn’t stand against the strength of the younger mercenaries. They sank to their knees and the ruffians hacked them apart, showing no mercy.

Anger rose in Wolf as he watched Waylan’s men being cut down. He picked up a sword and charged into the nearest cluster of enemies, slashing and chopping furiously. He sang a Hopi war song and felt the power of the words energize him. Wolf fought smarter, avoiding direct strikes from the ruffians’ weapons. His mask of invincibility had been shattered by recent events, and for the first time since landing in this primitive world, he knew that he could be hurt or even killed. Still, he fought hard, slashing at Sylvaine’s warriors. He released the inner beast his grandfather had feared, and he rampaged across the battlefield, slaying dozens of men with no remorse. He no longer regretted killing the ruffians—they were scum, and this world would be better without them. Men scattered and ran as he sang his war song and gained strength. Waylan’s men who were still alive took heart and renewed the attack, turning the tide of the battle and repelling the ruffians.

Sylvaine saw the writing on the wall. He had hoped to overwhelm the gates and obliterate Waylan’s geriatric warriors, but this was crazy. He had lost the only weapon they had that could kill the arrogant outsider. Sylvaine himself had thrown three spears at Wolf and scored direct hits in the chest, head, and thigh with no effect. He assumed Jonar’s howler had been destroyed, and now, nothing could scratch his nemesis.

A short distance away, Sylvaine saw Waylan clubbing and hacking at his ruffian troops. The gray-bearded old king should have died a dozen battles ago, but he had lived on and fought on. Hours ago, he had been forced to retreat behind a line of his own warriors, and Sylvaine had expected him to yield to the daunting odds, but the steely old man kept coming, slaughtering all who stood in his path. Despite outnumbering Waylan ten to one, Sylvaine’s warriors couldn’t kill that wild man.

Now that Wolf was up again, Sylvaine’s army was melting like ice on a sunny day. The wounds Sylvaine had inflicted on Wolf earlier had healed. Jonar’s howler had worked—but it couldn’t kill the man. Still, he had the satisfaction of pushing his dagger into Wolf’s chest. He drew the blade, which still had Wolf’s blood on it, and examined it with satisfaction. He would have to show this blood to Jonar. Replacing the dagger in its sheath, he glared with disgust as his ineffective army disintegrated.

* * *

Darkness had fallen over the battlefield, yet the fighting raged on. The field was lit with metal pots from the gate’s parapets, and Wolf was fighting again, rallying his men. Sylvaine’s army was in retreat, trampling in the ankle-deep blood of their fellow warriors. As the men fled, they were intercepted by Dalla’s army of ferocious Nanna warriors who had finally arrived to defend the kingdom of Springdale.

Sylvaine cursed the cowardice of his fleeing men as the Nanna and their animals ripped into them. The women were lightning fast and deadly as they flipped through the air, spinning and twisting, slicing and hacking his men to shreds. Sylvaine reflected on Wolf’s successful ploy to subvert the Nanna and muttered to himself that this was supposed to be Waylan’s army being demolished. A flank of Nannas blocked Sylvaine’s retreat as Old Guard warriors closed in from the rear and sliced down his remaining forces. The Templar glared with hatred, first at Wolf and then at Waylan, before retreating into the forest and away to safety.