One of the Marcks shoved her forward and began to place an energy shackle around her body. Before he was able to finish, the ground quaked violently, and two giant, red legs burst up through the surface. The massive spider, still seeking its escaped prey, emerged from the ground. It was accompanied by hundreds of smaller spiders that spilled out like ocean waves cresting an empty beach. The Marcks fired wildly at the scurrying menaces, instantly filling the air with the stench of burned chlorine from the plasma gases.
The giant spider, now free of the cavern, instantly seized two Marcks and ripped them in half, and then it started after Crix, smashing any Marcks in its path with ease. Observing that their captors were otherwise disposed of, using the orb’s power, Crix grabbed his companion around her waist and leaped on top of a huge nearby boulder. This gained them a few safe moments out of harm’s way. A squad of Marcks blasting their weapons without pause had swooped down on hover disks and managed to slow the giant spider’s pursuit.
Crix noticed the Marcks’ feet and how they magnetically attached to the flight disks. These highly useful hover disks were the latest in individual troop assault and recon mobilization developed by Sectnine. The Marcks dashed back and forth, employing hit and run tactics on the mother spider. The mammoth beast jumped toward the airborne Marcks but always came up short in catching her swift opponents. Meanwhile, the ground Marcks subdued the swarms of smaller spiders after sustaining few losses of their own.
Crix capitalized on another provided opportunity, and he fearlessly pounced upon a Marck’s back as it zipped by on a hover disk. He wrapped his arms around its lower torso and jerked his weight down and to the left, sending the disk and Marck spiraling toward the ground. Crix then positioned himself on the Marck’s shoulders, allowing it to take the brunt of the resulting impact. The Marck became detached from the hover disk.
Crix then quickly and steadily squatted down upon it and leaned forward. The smooth, flat disk launched ahead, and he nearly lost his footing; he began rethinking his bravado. The slick surface made it difficult for him to stay on top of it. He took a deep breath and shifted his weight to turn the disk . . . It worked! Confidently, he then swung back around.
“Jump up!” He extended his hand, motioning her to jump onto his back. She happily accepted and swiftly secured herself around his waist. He leaned forward to activate the machine’s forward propulsion and took extra care with the additional weight and added instability. Crix drove the hover disk away from the main Marck force and in the direction of the rockface cliff, which would lead them out of the Drisal region.
He took a quick look back and noticed several Marcks had taken pursuit on hover disks, and they were closing in fast. Crix was hesitant to increase his speed as he continued to struggle to keep his footing. His stomach tightened. He knew, at this point, that he could not outrun or outmaneuver them. With the Marcks nearly on top of them, he quickly descended lower, hugging the ground. Since the Marcks never fired upon them thus far, he decided to take the gamble that their directive was to take them alive, and that might give him an upper hand. He had to make a quick decision.
At that moment, he energized both of them with the orb, twisted his hips hard, and jumped from the disk while still moving at a high rate of speed. The disk continued forward and haphazardly smashed into the cliffs ahead. As he landed, he was facing the oncoming Marcks with his fists clenched and his heels dug into the soil as he slid to a stop.
The woman lost her grip and flew backward; she tumbled and landed a few meters on the ground next to him. Several Marcks systematically flew by and circled back around. Crix waited in a defensive posture with his jawline tightened, and his eyes intensely focused on what was about to come, but before they reached him, unexpectedly, one of the oncoming attackers collapsed and slid off its disk. As the other two looked back to see what happened, each one violently arched backward as long metal bolts burst through their chests, sending sparks and sheared-off metal flying through the sky.
Crix scanned the area trying to locate the shots’ origin. It was evident that someone or something was aiding them. Who or what is it?
From the cliffs, a low, gravelly voice called out, “Over here!” Crix noticed that the voice came from halfway up the cliff. “Get over here quickly! More are on the way!” the voice persisted.
Crix and the surprised woman sprinted toward the cliff with blind faith that the voice was someone they could trust, at least for the time. The distance to the cliff was far, and they could hear the alarming hum of the hover disks as they fast approached. They focused forward, not looking back, and ran until their breath escaped them and their lungs were on fire. The woman pilot, to Crix’s surprise, easily outran him.
Two rapid flashes from an elevated position on the side of the cliff caught their peripheral vision. A pulsating screech approached from overhead and zipped past them as a hover disk and Marck twirled uncontrollably and exploded into the side of the cliff. They kept running without pause until they reached the base and looked straight up at the small overhang from which the voice originated. An unexpected cable dropped down.
“Grab onto it and be quick!” the voice shouted.
Crix stuck his foot through the loop and grabbed the cable with both hands. He looked over at his cohort. ”Jump on!”
She placed her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. The cable started to move up in short jolts, and as they neared the overhang, there were deep baritone grunts with each hard jerk of the cable. They reached the top and found a large, stout, dark-grey-skinned brute of a beast pulling the cable. He had hulking muscles and bulging veins that protruded from his neck and arms. Crix thought he was someone he would rather be friends with and not foe. His black pants frayed just below the knees, and he wore an old, sleeveless military jacket that was just as weather-beaten and dirty as he was.
“Are tya going to help me out here and get off the line, or do I have to just keep hangin’ on to tya dead weight a while longer?” he snapped. He was scowling, his bare head and strained scalpline scrunched downward toward his solid black eyes. They both jumped away from the line like school kids in trouble.
“You’re a Hybor?” the woman asked. Hybors, from the watery moon of Thale, had a thick, black skin and round heads that were indiscernible from their necks. Their eyes shined above their whiskered muzzles and frowning jawlines. He looked at her with contempt in his expression.
“Oh yeah, how were tya able to guess that?” He took heavy breaths as he spoke as though labored. He reached over and grabbed an old, beat-up rail gun, which looked as though it was from the first Thraxon War. Pulling a wide magazine from his side pouch, he slammed it into the side of the weapon and smacked the bottom of it with his webbed hand. In a blink, he placed it up to his shoulder. The rifle made a humming and crackling noise as it fired, dropping three more incoming Marcks that approached the cliff wall.
“Get down into that hole and follow it till tya find an air pocket a little way in. I’ll be with tya in a minute.” He pointed toward a hole filled with a brown, sewage-type liquid. The two looked down at it together, and then dolefully at each other; the liquid reeked of rotten eggs.
“Are you serious?” Crix asked with the underlying hope that the Hybor meant something else. He sighed and thought to himself, does everything in Drisal smell rotten?
“What’s the matter with tya? Do what I say if tya want to survive. Now stop askin’ stupid questions and get going!” Behind them, approaching Marcks littered the sky with attack ships.
“Just stay close to me; I’m a pretty good swimmer,” Crix stated. She looked at him with assurance in her eyes and nodded. He jumped into the stink hole, and she followed close behind.
As they moved through the tunnel, he grasped at the walls and found them to be slimy, smooth, and almost alive. Several times, it felt like something brushed past him, but it was impossible to see in the murky fluid. Crix felt a slight tinge of panic go through his mind as his breath b
egan to run out. The tunnel widened, and they came to a larger area. His thoughts raced; if they did not find an air pocket soon, they were going to drown in this awful place. He swam a bit further, but the pressure building up in his lungs was a warning; he had to get air. He felt her grip his calf with her fingernails.
She must be feeling it as well.
His heart banged around his chest; it felt as though it would burst if he did not find that air cavity. Unable to go any further, he swam upward and pressed his mouth along the top of the tunnel. There was nothing but slime; he was finished. Then his body snapped forward with a strong gush and swooshing motion, and in a few short seconds, he emerged into an air cavity with his bulky new friend and the fatigued woman. They both gasped, trying to catch their wind.
“Take a minute to catch tya breath, but we got to keep moving. Once they figure out what happened to us, they will call in the amphibious units to hunt for us here.”
A minute or two passed, and the Hybor grabbed both of them together around their chests, and then sandwiched them against him. His skin felt like rubber against theirs, yet it was solid underneath from his muscular physique.
“Take a deep breath,” he said just before he dove down through the widening tunnels and clenched onto them with one arm.
As they swiftly passed through another watery tunnel, the gurgling of fluid flushed past their ears. Crix felt his ears give way to the pressure; it was like nails driving into his eardrums. Just as the fatigue of oxygen deprivation kicked in, they popped upward into a large, faintly lit cave; its only light source was a single proton gas lamp at the far end. Around the illuminated area were a chiseled-out stone seat shaped in a reclining fashion and a neatly organized row of sharpened steel rods that leaned against the wall nearby.
The Hybor chucked his new young Mendac friends onto the smooth stone floor. He lumbered over to the stone lounger and flopped down, kicking one of his large, wide feet up on an old scrap piece of machinery. Grabbing a nearby wooden box, he placed it upon his lap and pulled out a plump, round, dark green aacor—a pungent tasting fish that Andors typically used for bait. He smashed the aacor into his mouth and grabbed up another, giving off a deep and wet belch. The smell permeated to the other side of the cave where the two rescued guests still laid from the Hybor’s toss.
They recoiled back, gagging from the odor, which did not mingle well with the stink from the cavernous pool.
“Ahh . . . Mr. Hybor . . . sir, I don’t mean any disrespect, but I thought we needed to keep moving due to the approaching amphibious units?” Crix was concerned over the Hybor’s sudden lax presence.
“Yes, we do, but aacor is good for tya fightin’ strength. Tya’ll need your strength; have one. Oh, and . . . Krath’s the name. Don’t call me mister.” He extended the box in their direction in offering. Crix and the young woman both gave a repugnant look and waved their hands in dismissal.
Krath growled to himself, “Useless youth, never appreciates good things.” He crammed another one into his mouth.
Crix rolled his eyes and turned toward his new friend. “Well, as much as we’ve been through together, it’s hard to believe we haven’t had a proper introduction yet. I’m Crix.” He extended his hand in goodwill. She pulled her wet hair back from her face, the right side of her mouth turned up into a sweet smile, and she gently placed her hand in his.
“Very pleased to meet you, Crix.”
He waited an uncomfortable minute, and then looked side to side with a playful smirk. “And you are?”
She rolled her eyes, feeling a little rude. “Oh . . . Sorry, I’m Kerriah.” A bass-horn chuckling came from Krath, and they both, at that moment, chose to ignore him. Their eyes locked onto each other.
“And you’re a Tolagon, I see. I thought they were all eliminated as a result of the Emergency Preservation Initiative.” She gently patted his chest, where the orb resided. A warm feeling flushed through Crix; still, he was embarrassed. He did not feel he had earned the right to carry the title. He had received the orb in secrecy, handed down with no instructions on how to use it. It was not official, and he had never received any formal training. The title did not fit.
“Well, not exactly.” His face flushed. “I mean, I have an orb. In fact, I’ve always had it, and it’s a part of me, almost like an organ in my body. But I don’t feel that makes me a Tolagon. Those guys were legendary from what I’ve been told about them. That’s not me; I’m not a hero. I’m an Andor living an unpretentious life, at least until this past day.”
Krath threw his bucket of aacor down against the floor, sending the remaining aacor inside sliding out and across the floor. “Wrong!” he shouted. “Tya father was the Vico Legion Commander Corin Emberook, Tolagon of Soorak, chosen by Gabor, and with his death, has rights to name his replacement if unable to return to the Council!”
Crix’s eyes widened, and he eagerly sat erect. “You knew my father? How do you know who I am?”
Krath drew a calming breath. “Yes, boy, and a great warrior he was. I would have fought at his side till my last breath. When I heard of his passin’, I refused to believe it until his closest friend acknowledged it.” He let out a prolonged, barking cough that added a deeper, noxious stench in the dank air. “He told me of a child . . .” He stopped, poised like a statue, staring into the large, watery hole they had emerged from earlier.
“What?” Crix’s curiosity now had an unrelenting resolve. Krath disregarded Crix and slowly reached over and grabbed one of the steel rods next to him. Crix and Kerriah looked into the water and observed a shadowy figure surrounded by a faint green light in the depths, and at that moment, a splash of water flew up as a rod broke through the stillness. A flash lit up the water for an instant, which outlined three Marck silhouettes with one having a steel rod protruding from its torso.
“Over here, and be quick about it!” Krath waved them over to a section of the cavern that had a bulky chain hanging from the ceiling. Crix and Kerriah quickly complied.
The other Marcks emerged from the watery basin. Their armor was dark mossy green and accented with a black, rubber coating. As their visors broke the surface, Krath charged toward them and leaped into the water trapping their heads between his biceps and forearms. He rolled them like a Drisal flathead gorgator, and their flippered feet flung into the air above the water and back down again. The surface of the water swirled and rippled as a sharp thump came up from the depths. A sheared-off Marck leg flew up from the water and smashed into the cavernous wall. Following close behind, a head and arm clanked upon the floor. Air bubbles billowed up just before Krath burst from the surface with his arms outstretched as he landed squarely back onto the solid stone floor. With a wild look on his face, he charged back over to the chain and started pulling.
“Amphibious units! I hate amphibious units! Be ready!” he shouted while he heaved with each pull, his veins bulging from his face and arms.
“What are you doing?” Crix asked, alarmed by Krath’s lack of details.
“More are right behind the three I just put down! When this opens, jump in and follow the slide till tya see light, and then start grabbin’ for vines. Tya can use the flex cable I have stashed near the opening to repel to the cliff bottom.”
He flexed and lugged for another great pull. A large, stone slab pulled up from the floor, revealing a secret passageway. The amphibious Marck units surfaced with rifles drawn to their shoulders.
“Go!” Krath insisted in a strained voice.
Without hesitation, they both jumped into the dark hole. They found themselves sliding through a narrow tunnel that quickly turned into a downpour of water. Behind them was a loud booming vibration as the stone slab slammed down, cutting off their way back. Now, left with complete darkness and water gushing down through the tight space, their momentum picked up as they hit a massive drop off that sent butterflies fluttering through their stomachs. The slide leveled off and opened to a brightly lit area.
Sunlight blazed from an o
pening in the cavern above, and long green vines draped down, dipping into the slide, and then following its steep path downward. Crix rubbed his eyes to provide relief from the blinding light; however, he was still moving rapidly down the natural slide. He felt the slippery vines under his back as he passed over them and rolled over to his belly. He grabbed one and managed to get a firm grip and slow himself to a stop. His feet dangled helplessly in the air.
It was not until the feeling of vertigo sank into the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind that he realized he was hanging off the edge of the cliff at the tunnel’s exit. The drop-off was far and landed into the forest-covered flatlands below. The gushing water blasted relentlessly against him. He clenched the vine and attempted to look back up the tunnel but detected no signs of Kerriah.
Did she jump in behind me? His mind raced. She must have grabbed hold of something.
He leaned back to have a look down but could not get a good view without losing his grip. The water violently splashed against his face and eyes and filled his ears. He was overwhelmed.
Where is she?
Fire burned throughout his hands as he could feel his strength waning. He could use the orb’s power, although he was worried the Marcks could detect his position.
It will have to be an absolute last resort.
He dangled there, clenching the vine, and with every effort, tried to pull himself up. The frail branch broke loose under his weight and sent him freefalling uncontrollably. He tumbled toward the ground. There was no time to think, and he had to use the orb’s power to break his descent. Then, he instantly and surprisingly stopped with a spine cracking snap.
“Hang on there, buddy; I got tya,” a familiar voice said. Crix looked back over his shoulder as he hung mysteriously in midair; it was Krath. He planted his husky feet firmly against the cliff wall and had one arm wrapped around Crix’s torso and the other around a high flex cable.
Age of the Marcks Page 5