Rise of the Defiant: Book Two of the Warpmancer Series

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  ‘Fight on! For freedom!’ Leri shouted from atop a toppled walker drone.

  ‘Rii!’ his rebels shouted in unison as they charged past towards the Gleran lancer squads. Kuru met shock-spear. The blitz metal of the rebels held. That of the Glerans did not. Yellow-green blood sprayed and smattered the first row of rebels. Blasters followed, securing kill zones to eliminate flankers.

  ‘Don’t give them any mercy. Slay the slaves! Take Kazh-aira! Free our women!’

  ‘Rii!’

  A spear flew at Leri. He caught it and tossed it to a rebel who had lost his kuru. The rebel re-joined the phalanx, which had since become a full-on charge.

  ‘They broke us before. They’ll never break us again. Charge forward! Charge forward! For freedom! For Zeruit!’

  The cry that followed was incomprehensible and filled with the bloodlust of generations. The free Zangorians of Zeruit, Leri among them, broke the Gleran shield-wall. Capturing the plasma-proof shielding, a line of rebels defended their comrades from a wave of Xank blasters. When they were close enough for the melee, the slaves fell to the righteous horde.

  Beak, blade, blast, blood. Kazh-aira was consumed by violence. By revolution.

  The Kazh-airan streets were a far cry from the other settlements on Zeruit. It had winding streets and areas used for community rather than military. This was Zeruit’s old capital. This was where Leri’s great ancestors had held court. It was his city. The buildings had been coated with Xank metallic shielding. Their doors sealed closed. Leri was sure that the HQ dominating the central part of the city held the command console, which would allow them to open the doors and even rip them apart. This would become a real city once again – after this revolution. This glorious revolution.

  As the rebels took districts of the city, they used captured weapons and equipment for their own advantage. Damaged drone parts were fabricated into ladders to scale buildings for the high ground, armour, new weapons, explosives. In only a brief period, the restricted creativity of the Zangorian was allowed to flourish, and previous slave crafters could invent and innovate the means to their victory.

  It had been around eighteen hours. The rebellion command had secured every district. The buildings within had been empty and free of traps. Leri rested, as well as he could.

  Tek’roa entered the command tent that they had erected between two large buildings. He held his helmet in his talons. The blood of Gleran and Zangorian stained his armour and feathers.

  ‘I hope you are resting well, Rii. Our troops have set up for a long siege. The slaves have secured themselves in the HQ. We won’t be able to get them out for a while.’

  ‘How goes our supply lines?’

  ‘If at least a quarter of our settlements deliver, we’ll be stocked. Peron says we’ll be able to use the mag-rails to carry in new supplies.’

  ‘Excellent. Only thing that could stop us now is a…’

  The ground shook, giving Leri pause. Tek’roa put on his helmet and turned to the guard outside the tent.

  ‘Artillery?’

  ‘Rii, there’s something coming down…’ the guard’s voice was quivering.

  Leri put his helmet on and followed Tek’roa outside. In the sky were, at a quick count, around twenty deathly-black vessels. Leri knew what they were – Sylith containers.

  They seemed to freeze, those ships of death. Leri knew them too well. He had handled Sylith attacks before. He had never fought one off, however. He wasn’t sure he would be able to do so. With bangs, rockets shot from the ships and plummeted into the city.

  ‘Battle-stations!’ Leri shouted.

  ‘Those demons will destroy this entire city…’ Tek’roa was shocked. He also recognised the vessels.

  A rocket landed metres away from them, two Sylith crawling out. The six-eyed, razor mouthed monsters were the bane of the frontier. Entire planets had fallen to their swarms. The Xank used them to great effect.

  The Sylith didn’t attack them, however. They just stared at them. Leri, the guard and Tek’roa didn’t provoke them. They moved into a defensive formation.

  There were the occasional sounds of battle, but nothing as loud as the conflicts just hours ago. It seemed that the hive-controller wanted a parley.

  A small black craft hovered down from the formation of dropships. Tek’roa swore. The guard asked what was happening. Leri waited.

  The craft landed and the doorway opened to reveal an obsidian-black clad figure wearing a human-like skull mask. Dark-blue energy twisted and sparked around the figure’s arms.

  An Immortal.

  It lifted its arm and in a split-second, Tek’roa was lifted off the ground, grasping for breath.

  ‘You betray us, War Lector? Those who gave you power unimaginable. You betray us?!’

  The grip tightened. Tek’roa looked close to bursting. His eyes filled with primal desperation. He clawed fruitlessly at his neck, water pouring from his eyes. His legs were flailing.

  ‘Stop!’

  Surprisingly, the Immortal let go at Leri’s request.

  The black-metal figure, the epitome of all Leri was supposed to fear, advanced towards him. Even with his fear, Leri’s guard tried to get in the way, but Leri patted his shoulder. This wasn’t his fight.

  The Immortal brought up swathes of dust and cracked stones as he pounded his way to Leri. He leant down and with his dead eyes, stared right into Leri’s soul.

  ‘You are the one who started this all. Did the human help you? I always told the Avenger that the Word Lectorate would be the death of us. But nobody ever listens to Krag-Zolith.’

  Leri didn’t answer.

  ‘Mark my words, bird. When I’m done with you, you will be begging for death.’

  ‘Is it your way to capture and torture before the kill? No regards for honour? I thought the Blood Duel was your religion.’

  The Immortal seemed to be stung by that. It stood at full height.

  ‘Very well. A Blood Duel it is.’

  Leri knew he had very little chance to beat an Immortal, even in a fair fight without their magic – but this gave him some chance.

  The Immortal backed away and took off its helmet to reveal a face as white as clouds, with a mohawk leading into a tail at the nape of its neck. The face was oddly feminine and its voice revealed that the Immortal was female.

  It – she – raised her fists and bent into a martial arts stance. Leri took off his helm and laid it at his feet.

  ‘Rii…’ the guard croaked. Even he knew his leader was going to die.

  Leri didn’t fear his death. He had lived free. He charged.

  The Immortal dodged nonchalantly, catching Leri by his flesh arm and then breaking it over her knee. Leri cried out, but made sure to swipe at her face with his metal talon. He missed as she ducked, throwing him into a wall. With an oomph, he fell to the ground. The Immortal, standing beside him as he tried to breathe, kicked him in the stomach. He gagged and spat blood.

  ‘This is what you wanted, bird.’

  She lifted him up with both hands and looked him in the eyes.

  ‘You don’t know what we lost. Your suffering is nothing.’

  Leri tried to kick and slash but her metal armour resisted all his blows.

  The Immortal sighed. ‘Pitiful.’

  She leant down slowly and placed Leri face up on her knee. She grasped his head and his legs. She meant to snap him like a twig.

  ‘This was a glorious revolution, whelp, but nobody can truly beat the Areq…’

  The Immortal gurgled as a blade stuck through her head. Blood collected around the slit and sprayed as the blade pulled out. Released of its bonding, her head split into two and fell. The Immortal dropped to the ground, her armour causing a thud that echoed throughout the alley. Leri stood and saw his saviour – a Sylith staring blankly at him.

  The Sylith began gargling speech, clicking and then warping into something akin to the whistles of a Zangorian.

  ‘This is Peron. I have gained control of t
his Sylith hive.’

  Leri could have cried with joy.

  ‘Rii, I am using the Sylith to storm the HQ. We will win within the hour.’

  ‘Thank you, Peron.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. I did what I had to.’

  Leri turned to Tek’roa, who was staring disbelieving at the dead Immortal.

  ‘It’s…dead.’

  ‘Yes. They can die.’

  ‘Why did we serve them?’

  ‘Because we were afraid.’

  Tek’roa looked at him with a new fire. ‘Not anymore.’

  

  The march to the HQ was a parade. Rii’s righteous horde lined up along the streets. There was cheering, jumping and dancing. Helmets were thrown into the air to be caught and thrown up again. Jubilation permeated the once dead streets. To contrast this joyful sight, dotted among every few celebrants was a completely still Sylith. Peron maintained an iron grip on them, creating morose statues covered with the blood of Zangorian-slaves. The Gleran never ceased to amaze Leri. He just hoped that the Sylith would remain docile.

  What truly drove Leri onward, however, was not the cheering or the victory but the prospect that they would finally encounter their women. His only experience with Zangorian females were from long-dead memories and every attempt to meet them on Zeruit had been met with disappointment as the Xank isolated them more and more from Leri’s grasp.

  But finally, he was ready to save them. For the first time in ages, he would see the women-folk of his kind. No longer would blood and war be his prerogative. He would have the ability to love. To build a family. His people could finally stop being an army and succumb to peace.

  The vanguard troops, armoured and bloodstained, saluted Leri as he reached the titanium reinforced gate of the HQ. Peron was waiting within.

  ‘Rii…’

  He was tentative. Just excited, or stressed from his need to control the Sylith, Leri surmised.

  ‘We have secured the facility. Traps and guards have all been eliminated by my Sylith forces.’

  ‘Glory to you, Thinker! We have you to owe for our victory.’

  Peron was still anxious. Two of his six eyes were darting side to side.

  ‘As much as this is a time for jubilation. I feel we need to discuss something…in private.’

  Leri didn’t hesitate to follow Peron to the next room, a sterile grey hallway.

  ‘What is it? I thought the facility was secure.’

  ‘It is…I have discovered something. Something that not even the Lector was aware of. We must not tell the men, yet.’

  Leri felt a cold chill dance upon his spine. His voice and mood lowered.

  ‘What is it?’

  Peron indicated for Leri to follow him further into the facility. The halls and rooms were abandoned except for the occasional Sylith, standing as if furniture themselves. There were no corpses or remains of drones and sentry guns. There had been no fight. The facility had been unguarded from within. Whatever this building hid, the Xank wanted absolutely no possibility of becoming known.

  Peron stopped at a mechanical sliding door.

  ‘Are you sure you want to see this?’

  ‘I can’t be sure until I see it. Open the door.’

  Peron nodded and pressed a button.

  Lined from floor till a dark and ominous ceiling, held in barely lit capsules, were rows and rows of Zangorians. Their feathers were duller in colour than the usual orange. They were smaller and stunted. Their beaks were small, and looked soft. They were not as hard as Leri’s battle-hardened beak, capable of cracking open soft metal. Their eyes were too small. They bore no pattern upon their feathers. They were dull. A pale, brownish orange. They were the most beautiful thing Leri had ever seen.

  ‘Monsters,’ Leri said of the Xank aloud. Peron did not respond.

  He moved towards a console and pressed a few buttons, summoning a capsule to be brought down on a magnetic rail system and placed near them.

  Leri approached the sleeping Zangorian woman. She had a feathery twirl atop her head. Small lids hid her eyes, as they topped a spikeless beak. Leri touched her cheek.

  Peron stared. His eyes taking turns to blink.

  ‘How can we wake them up?’ Leri asked, never glancing away.

  ‘I’m sorry, Leri. We can’t.’

  Leri looked away from both the female and the Gleran. He knew this already. Somehow. Hope was a spurious thing.

  He smashed his metal fist into the capsule, to be answered by a small electronic explosion as sparks erupted around the braindead female.

  The Xank did not let the females have even the privilege of thought. They were wombs. Nothing more.

  ‘I will tell the men. We must begin a breeding programme immediately so that we may assure the survival of our species.’

  ‘With who?’ Peron looked shocked. He knew what Leri meant.

  ‘These sacks. These painful monstrous…Xank-wrought abominations.’

  ‘Leri…this is rape. They can’t think…consent. It’s like mating with children.’

  ‘Children have prospects. These do not. They’re barely alive in any sense of the word. I’m going now. I’m giving the word. We will breed an army – and we will destroy the Xank for what they have done.’

  “The Troopers have never known peace. After their founding, they found enemies in the pirates and brigands of their own race. After that, the Squogg invaders and Pegg pirates. Then came the Xank, a worthy threat for humanities’ armies. But even they were not the genuine enemies of mankind.” – Introduction to a ‘History of the Trooper Order’

  Chapter 25. Civilisation

  Society is precarious. Civilisation is transient. Order is an illusion. The people of Nexus had come to learn this in the long months of insurgent attacks and Dedelux’s brutal responses. The once thriving capital of civilisation on the frontier was now a flaming pit of ash and blood. The shiny, glamourous and apathetic façade of luxurious civilisation had been torn away to reveal the dark underbelly of violence. Nexus had never been peaceful. It had just once been better at pretending.

  The outskirts of Nexus had been annexed by the so-called Zonian terrorists. Only the central hub remained under Dedelux’s control. The Defiant had pushed and taken most of the city. Now all they needed to do was secure the throne.

  Erryn Kolheim had her hand on her namesake. The Kolheim shone in all her glory. Erryn noted to never doubt the Defiant again. She couldn’t even call them dirt-birthers anymore. Only days after her registration as a pilot, a small team managed to take the hangar in which the Kolheim had been parked.

  ‘Captain Erryn,’ Yobu advanced towards her, carrying a tablet computer.

  ‘Pilot, Sergeant. Just pilot.’

  ‘No, Captain. The rest of your crew was killed. By spacefaring law, you are now Captain.’

  Erryn nodded, sadly. She didn’t know how her crew died. She didn’t want to know.

  ‘Does the Kolheim have weapons fitted, Captain?’

  ‘Of course. Pegg don’t care if you’re unarmed or not. It had twin-photon lances and three shafts for rockets. It ain’t built for war, but it will sure fight one. Needs a crew, though.’

  Yobu pointed behind him with his stylus. ‘Go take your pick. These are all the volunteers.’

  Erryn looked past him and approached the group. Standing below the height of any of them was Jilly. She smiled, her toothy grin missing a tooth, when she saw Erryn.

  ‘Miss Kolheim! You got your ship back?’

  ‘Yep. Defiant did it. Protected me and my stuff,’ Erryn winked.

  ‘You needing any help with it? I can be real handy. Only been in space once but can learn quick.’

  ‘I’m sure you can.’

  Erryn glanced around, clutching her chin thoughtfully. Jilly started to squirm. Erryn chuckled.

  ‘Come on, then. Could always use more cabin-girls. Welcome aboard.’

  Jilly smiled.

  ‘Thanks, Miss Kolheim!’

  
>
  James didn’t sleep all night. He had never had this problem before a fight back in Galis. He hadn’t been prone to anxiety back then. Life was simpler. It was Don Marzio having the sleepless nights in Galis, not the Shadow of Galis, who owned the night. James no longer had the luxury of restful nights, or days. His people needed him.

  A knock sounded on his door. His lack of apprehension was cause for the door to open.

  ‘Rise and shine,’ Marshal announced. He stopped as he saw the bags under James’ eyes. ‘Bad sleep?’

  ‘No sleep.’

  He took a seat next to James’ bed.

  ‘What’s troubling you, lad?’

  ‘Don’t have the luxury of complaining, Marshal.’

  ‘That’s a problem itself, but it’s mozar-skite. You might feel you can’t brood out there, but here, you can tell me what’s up.’

  ‘It’s just…I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘We have a plan. No need for trepidation. It’s a good one. We have the ships to secure the central hub. We can do it. You can do it.’

  ‘It’s not that. I know we can do it. I’m also feeling confident we may be able to not die instantly when the Imperials get here. But I didn’t do this. The Zonians did. They took Underbelly Alpha. They stopped the pogroms. They accomplished all this while I languished in prison. I don’t deserve the credit. I can live with being a symbol, but I’m terrified. I’m terrified that I’ll let them down. They built all this up. If I fail…all they did will be for nothing.’

  Marshal stood and sat next to James on the bed, placing his hand on James’ back.

  ‘You are scared because you want to succeed. That means something. You want to win this. You want to be the Defiant they believe you to be. But you must never forget something.’

  James looked up to his bearded, grizzled friend.

  ‘Those who exist only for others don’t exist at all. Exist for yourself. Have your own ends. If those ends help others, good, but don’t do it just because you feel some arbitrary sense of obligation. Don’t do it just to look good. Do it because you believe it to be right. Our people don’t need some selfless symbol who will burn out. They need someone like them. They need someone who has hopes, ambitions. Aven and that Immortal keep saying they need a God. I disagree. They need a human. Duty didn’t get us anywhere on Zona Nox. Duty’s for the army. The Defiant, we’re different. We fight for ourselves. Never forget that. We ain’t slaves. We’re free folk. We fight by your side, not under you. Don’t let them forget that either.’