Something flashed forward before striking his helmet with a thud. It sounded like wood. Perhaps it was a staff, but his metal helmet took the shot and merely tried to turn slightly to the left. The eye holes shifted, but returned to their place thanks to the strap holding it in place under his chin.
While the attack wasn't magical in nature, the protection was more than adequate, but a second clang as the weapon reversed to strike him again started to anger the young soldier.
"Hey, quit that! Put your weapon down now. I am a king's soldier!"
A third strike was caught by his freshly raised shield and the soldier lunged forward.
He heard the staff clatter to the floor, but the shadowy figure attempted to dodge his attack. A noise, perhaps a voice mumbled something and a breeze struck him. It wasn't enough to push him away, if it was meant to, but dust managed to get in his eyes enough to make him pull up blinking as his eyes began to tear up despite the protection of the helmet.
A flicker of flame, weak like that used to startling the kindling for a real fire, came from his left and Peter managed to catch sight of the figure through the water in his eyes. It was still a blur and the fire winked out of sight quickly as the soldier turned to face the magic user. He was pretty sure that it had to be a wizard or wilder, but apparently they were either inept or too frightened to use their magic well.
His right hand had never finished drawing his sword, but went to his belt again. A metal tool of the trade was pulled free as he lunged in the direction of the magic user. The shield crashed into his target creating a surprisingly high pitched cry. His right hand slipped around the shield feeling the arm of his attacker and slid upward searching for the neck.
The metal of the wizard band moved almost as if alive and wrapped around the figure's neck. A magical item, the band nullified a wilder's magic unless it was controlled by a master. Only a master with a corresponding bracelet could take control and release the containment of a wizard's power. Every man in the unit wore a bracelet while on a mission. The precaution meant that any hunter to successfully snare a wilder's neck had control of the target from the start.
Only those who shared a proper bond would become the master of a magic user, but the bracelet would work for anyone until removed for a better match. Peter was a hunter and was only meant to stop wilders and rogue wizards. Even so, the soldier felt a strange feedback through the bracelet as the collar firmed around his attacker's neck.
"Now you will stop and I will take you in, creature. Stop struggling and tell me if there are anymore of you here," he ordered lowering his voice. They were only separated by the shield and the air stirred between them as his target's breathing shuddered. His metal helmet likely fogged from the warm breath, but it was too dark for either of them to see.
His target didn't answer and the soldier did his best to look around for any other hidden wilders. After a moment's silence, he pushed a little harder with his shield drawing a gasp of discomfort from his prey.
"Answer," Peter ordered sounding surprisingly calm to his ears now. His voice was tight from trying to be commanding, but no longer sounded weak.
"I think the others escaped," a surprisingly feminine voice answered shakily.
The girl's voice surprised the soldier. He didn't know why it surprised him, since any discovered wilders were as likely to be female as male. As far as he knew, magic didn't choose one sex over another; so it was even odds that there might be a girl.
"You're hurting me," the girl breathed sounding a bit labored from the pressure against her upper body from the shield being pressed against her.
Easing back, Peter wished that he could see better. The dust above was slowly settling but it would be a long time before it would allow more light into the hole. The solid earth surrounding them would never change, however, and Peter thought to ask, "Is there a lamp down here?"
"There was," the girl replied calmly, "but I'm not sure what happened to it in the explosion."
He was surprised by the tone of her voice. Since it was too dark to see her face easily, Peter supposed that her physical features might have suggested otherwise, but he could only go with what he heard for now.
"Peter," the captain called out above him.
"I'm here, captain. I captured one of the wilders; but I'm not sure how to get out of here in the dark."
"Good work. Stay calm and we'll find a lamp in a moment.
"Is there just the one down there?"
"As far as I can tell, sir."
The girl started to move and Peter pushed back with the shield making her gasp again. As he eased back, she stated in irritation, "I was just going to look for the ladder. I heard it fall when Esterion and Gaius escaped."
"I dropped my staff and have a shield. Are you that it wasn't just me or any of the other noises caused by that wizard? He was a real wizard, wasn't he?" the soldier asked getting distracted by his thoughts as he tried to process what had happened. His training had exposed him to magic, of course, but this seemed more precise and destructive than anything he could remember seeing.
Her fingers found the top of his shield and pulled it down gently to avoid getting it jammed into her delicate frame again. "I know what I heard. Your crashing happened further away. As to Esterion, I assume that he is a trained wizard. He found me and Gaius and promised to take us away where we would be safe, but I guess that won't happen now," she finished with a sigh.
"Where was he going to take you?"
Ignoring his question, the girl knelt down after her shuffling feet connected with something solid. There was a lot of debris on the floor, but her hand found the ladder where it had fallen and she asked, "Can you help me with this?"
Peter bumped into the girl again. He had tried to keep track of her in the dim light and had moved with her. Moving to her left side, his free hand found her shoulder and traced her arm down to where her hand was touching the ladder. It was too dark to tell which end was correct, but between the two of them they were able to lift it up. The light above was dim, but the difference between the opening and the ceiling above them was easy enough to discern.
Walking the ladder close enough to lean it against the jagged remains of the floor and beams, the two made it steady and he sent the girl up the ladder before a lamp was brought to the edge of the hole. Men shifted ready to attack with the sight of the girl, but they eased quickly noticing the restrictive collar around her neck.
Peter retrieved his shield and followed. He would need the lamp to find his staff and to check the rest of the dark basement.
Once he had climbed the ladder to the top, the soldier noted his captain and two of the others waiting for him. He heard the girl cough and noted the heavy amount of dust in the air. Without the faceplate to protect them, Peter and the other soldiers would likely be coughing as well.
"Where are her cuffs, lad?" the captain asked gesturing towards the girl who had drawn the attention of the other men who remained close by.
There were men being tended to lying closer to the door. They had been significantly wounded by the wizards' escape if the squad wasn't trying to chase the two men who had fled, Peter thought. He had fallen, but not seen the true chaos of the wizard's magic when they fought free.
"She wasn't exactly resisting after I put the collar on her, sir, so I kind of forgot while we were looking for the ladder. I don't think that she's going to be any more trouble though," he admitted glancing at the girl who had lifted her hands to cover her nose and mouth while she tried to breathe without coughing more.
Signaling the two closest soldiers to go down into the hole to double check his assessment with a lantern, the captain made Peter walk the girl past the others to the porch. Only three of their men stood in front of the building, one of which was the sergeant who had handcuffed the shopkeeper and had him kneeling on the wood deck looking out at the street where several men and women peaked from safety on the far side of the street. Even fear of the hunters couldn't keep them from being
curious about the sounds coming from the general store.
The captain took a pair of cuffs from Peter's belt as if the younger man couldn't be trusted to draw his own gear. Taking first one wrist and then the other, he restrained her with them in front of her unlike the shopkeeper whose hands were cuffed behind his back.
"You always cuff their kind. Even the collar can't guarantee that they can't try some kind of magic and most of their skills require their hands. Bind their hands and end the threat, soldier."
"Yes, captain," Peter replied with a tone of disappointment that he was unable to mask. He disliked being cautioned and dressed down for his inexperience. New to the squad, his training in the hunters' camp wasn't the same as dealing with wizards under real conditions.
His leader's eyes went to the girl's collar and he brushed her hair back to look at it closer. Turning to look at the young man who had captured her, he asked for him to show the bracelet on his wrist. Peter noted a line of pale green filled the etched runes running along its surface now. Looking to the girl's collar, he noted the same color in the lines of it as well.
Gullan was in sight, but Peter didn't see the same colors on his collar. He wasn't quite sure what it meant.
"Well, I guess you'll be her keeper for now also," the captain stated.
Peter's eyes opened wide in shock. "But I am not trained to be an inhaber," he said using the special term for a wizard's handler. "I just joined the hunters, Captain Trevanne."
Sniffing in amusement, the older man replied, "You know that all hunters have the possibility of becoming inhabers. When you put a collar on one of these wilders, you run the risk of having to train them."
Frowning at the two men talking about her, the girl asked apprehensively, "What kind of training?"
The men closest to them began to chuckle, but the captain snapped at her, "Quiet, wilder, you will find out soon enough."
"My name is Aurora," she complained in retort. Her brown eyes looked angry, but the captain looked to his junior ignoring her.
"You know how to use the crop? I assume you brought it in your gear," the captain looked like he would use a rider's crop on the soldier if he answered incorrectly.
Peter withdrew a short rod called a septerad or crop in slang. It had more runes on it. Putting it in his right hand, he looked at his captain questioningly though only his eyes could be seen through the holes in his mask. Most of the hunters left their facemasks in place during the entire mission only taking their helmets off once returned to their station or at night when they ate or slept.
"Test it," the captain ordered.
A moment's delay as the junior hunter appeared to want the captain to take his order back ended by his placing his thumb on a ragged circular mark. The touch sent Aurora to her knees and her bound hands reached for the collar as she cried in pain which only ended when Peter lifted his thumb away from the mark.
"Good it works properly. You know the various uses of it from training, correct?"
Peter avoided the accusatory eyes of the girl and nodded to his leader.
"Then keep her under control while we secure the building."
Aurora stayed where she had landed and looked at the soldier, her keeper as they had called him, and tears were in her eyes for the first time since he had captured her.
Trying not to look at the sad girl, Peter kept his thumb away from the more dangerous buttons on the rod while he waited for his commander to send them on their way once more.
Beyond the Nebula Series:
Technomancer
Chapter 1- Death and Life
The whistle of an arrow signaled for Lyallan to duck behind the embankment once more. For nearly two hours the Ummair had been forced to deal with this humiliation from these savages. An Ummair Force Master rarely came into such a situation in the battles between the Alliance and the Harrimen or their union allies. Even the ancient battles that had taken place to create the Ourian Alliance’s forces had rarely created such circumstances for his kind.
All Ummair, as a race, seemed to long for control and the power needed to get it. Lyallan was no different from the majority of his kind in that respect, yet here he was. The Dark Sparron had crash landed, a feat in and of itself, with power spikes and failures plaguing the ship from the time the gas nebula had reached out to pull them into its strange embrace. As they readied for their dangerous planet fall, the Force Master had strapped himself in along with the rest of the crew, fully at the mercies of the skill of the captain and his bridge.
Their ship had done as well as could be expected. The cruiser, once sleek and dark, was little more than a falling hulk of metal. Virtually landing without many of their sensors and computers, the bridge officers had managed to set it down without killing the entire crew. Over a hundred Ummair had been on the Dark Sparron when the battle had begun, after the crash sixty eight still survived.
Despite the deaths, the Ummair actually had a strong force to fight off the indigenous creatures of this new world. Lyallan’s fingers of his left hand tapped the buttons of a blue metal gauntlet running up to nearly to the elbow on his right. With a last twist of a knob, the dark skinned master’s vision blurred as his consciousness felt like it was pulled in a strong flowing river from his body. His mind worked with multiple visions as his puppets rose from their positions. Charged rounds fired from a handful of rifles towards the bowmen attempting to hide in the cover of the woods just below their position.
A scream from an injured savage brought a smile to Lyallan’s face. Let them fear the weapons of the Ummair. The star based race had technology far superior to what these creatures had brought and well beyond what they could hope to even conceive of with their little minds. Unfortunately technology only went so far and the beasties still had far greater numbers than the Ummair. It also might just take a single bowman to get lucky by finding a piece of exposed flesh with an arrow to reduce the defenders by more if they weren’t careful.
The whistling arrows stopped in the face of the glowing rounds of alien weaponry. Lyallan wanted to let a smile come again. It was easy to think the creatures must realize that they were out gunned; but after hours of fighting between such lulls, Lyallan knew better.
When a loud battle cry erupted, a contingent of hundreds of light blue and brown skinned creatures charged towards the earthen walls that protected Lyallan and his soldiers. He was not surprised. The riflemen rose over their cover and began firing into the oncoming horde. The five under Lyallan’s control seemed to bravely stand their ground before the onslaught of blue, brown and green skinned creatures. Jutting jaws with protruding teeth snarled from beneath leather skull caps above and heavy hide armor below. They were probably feeling invincible as an army, but the five charge rifles lashed out proving to several that their hides were nothing to the glowing rounds of the Ummair rifles.
Lyallan’s slight smile faded as the determined foes over ran the defender’s position. The reinforced ceramic-like plates of the undead riflemen took several blows even as Lyallan continued to try and get them to take more of a toll on the savages. Clubs, short swords and axes hacked away fueled by the creatures’ greater strength. Their armor held for a time, but the riflemen were merely soulless husks animated by the technology of the Force Master. His will alone held the puppets in front of the savages. When their blades cut through a spine severing the nerves needed to control his Ummair puppets, the dead men fell from his control. Lyallan hated using his former shipmates in such a way anyway, but there had been little choice and better the dead hacked apart than his living crew mates.
Touching the bands of his left arm triggered a compartment to open. A high pitched twitter mimicking the sound of arrows in flight sounded as five darts, lit blue, fired out of the bands. With seeming minds of their own, the darts veered towards the fallen savages. Lyallan’s mind controlled these darts much as he had his puppets. When they found freshly killed, mostly intact bodies, the darts plunged into their dead chests. With a surge like the d
ead being brought back to life with electricity on an emergency table, five new puppets arose. Unnoticed by all but a few of the savages, the five creatures took up weapons with glazed, staring eyes.
Several of the savages were cut down from behind by the crude weapons at hand before they even knew it. New chaos as their own kind turned against them began to send a panic through the rear of the enemy ranks. One of his puppets found a fallen charge rifle and picked it up at Lyallan’s command. Firing as expertly as any Ummair marine, the creatures continued to broil in confusion. Their own kind now fought against them with alien gear. How could this be? They had to be wondering, Lyallan thought to himself.
New noise coming to his own ears from closer to the technomancer drew his attention back to his own part of the world. Three of the savages had spied him hidden behind his wall of earth and snarled at the dark elf of a man as they charged the alien. Turning his left wrist bands towards the intruders, Lyallan fired two more darts directly into a pair of the living locals. The darts fired their energy into the beasts snuffing the life out of them in an instant. Even as their intelligence faded with their life energy, the pair shook with tremors uncontrollably where they had pulled up short. Startling the third orc like creature into stalling his steps to stare incredulously at his fellow warriors, Lyallan seized control of the two and their weapons slashed swiftly into him from both sides.
The blue skinned warrior fell with his mouth open in complete surprise. He had not expected them to turn on him. The enemy was nearly in their grasp, and yet they had turned on him in a strange twist of events.
Lyallan suddenly felt a wave of pain through his head. Controlling seven puppets was pushing his abilities to their limits. It was said that there were masters who could control many more puppets, but he had found his limit while training to become a technomancer. More of the savages, these mostly brown skinned, were coming over his defensive wall even as the Ummair fought to hold onto his control. His newest puppets guarded their master from either side. After the initial surprise of their own warriors guarding the alien, where three more of the savages fell to his bodyguards; no quarter was given the traitors defending the smaller, blue skinned man.
Battle Mage Broken Empire (Tales of Alus Book 14) Page 43