by Craig Zerf
Eventually, frustrated and tired he crawled into the shelter and went to sleep.
And outside the night sky roiled with silent color as the solar pulses wreaked havoc in the heavens.
Chapter 8
Tommy Tiernan was almost a head taller than the other boys, even though he was the same age as them. He held a steel pot lid in his left arm and, in his right, a two-foot long stick. He had smeared his face with river mud to make it gray in color.
‘It’s not fair,’ whined Billy Preston. ‘Why do you always get to be the orcs. I wanna be the orcs.’
‘You can’t be,’ said Tommy. ‘Orcs are big and you’re just small.’
‘Not so. Anyway, orcs aren’t that big. They’re just wide.’
‘Well I’m bigger than you,’ stated Tommy. ‘So what I say goes.’
Billy couldn’t argue with such watertight logic so he gave up.
‘Okay, I’ll be the goblins,’ he said.
‘Uh uh,’ said Tommy. ‘You can’t be the goblins either. Orcs and goblins don’t fight each other. You have to be the human raiders. So you attack me and then I kill you. Come on. Let’s go.’
Billy pouted. ‘This game sucks ass. I wanna be the orcs.’
‘Shut up, Billy, or I’ll smack you one.’
With a look of resignation Billy attacked Tommy who proceeded to chop him into imaginary pieces with his stick.
Battle Orc, sergeant Gog, watched the two human children as he stood behind the wall of the stockade. Ever since they had repelled the clan attack, the humans had treated them like heroes. Even the children emulated them in their war games.
It was a strange feeling and one that the sergeant was not entirely equipped to handle. There were no Orc children. Just as there were no Orc females. The battle Orcs were created by the Fair-Folk via a combination of both magik and arcane science. They were grown in large ceramic eggs until they reached the larval stage of development. They were then taken from the eggs and moved to the growing vats where they were suspended in a viscous protein bath. Within two months they had reached full size and their training began.
Goblins were different. They were sequential hermaphrodites. Capable of being either male or female depending on various extraneous conditions such as availability of food and water, the clemency of the weather and even social circumstances such as war. Externally, however, they continued to look the same, it was merely their personal odor that changed, allowing other goblins to know whether their male or female genitalia were in ascendancy. And their brood stocks were brought up in secret, far from the eyes of the Orcs. But Gog did know that, like the battle Orcs, the goblin brood grew to adult size very quickly. A matter of months. Then they too were sent for training, spending most of their waking moments at the archery butts while the Orcs trained with sword and shield.
Tommy looked up at sergeant Gog and waved.
Gog waved back and then wondered why he had.
He turned his back on the little thin skins and continued to scan the horizon. Looking for enemies.
Chapter 9
They had ridden slowly all day, stopping for lunch and drinks of sap that Nathaniel had tapped for Milly. Then the marine had pitched an early camp, started a fire, put some burdock roots in the coals to cook and spit roasted two rabbits that he had snared the night before.
Milly sat on a log next to the fire, her new fur cloak pulled around her. She was watching Nathaniel. Although she could see that he was a scary man, she was unafraid. She had seen his gentle side as well as his almost superhuman combat facilities. But he was distant. Troubled. Sad even.
As she was watching him she saw him slowly unclip has axe from his belt and lay it on the ground in front of him.
‘Show yourself, stranger,’ he called out.
Milly glanced around her but saw nothing.
‘You’re welcome to share the fire and get a bite to eat,’ continued the marine. ‘But if you continue to skulk around out there I might become suspicious of your intentions. You don’t want that, trust me.’
A man stepped out of the deep shadows. A black beard and unkempt hair covered much of his face. He was carrying a long spear made from a wooden pole with a carving knife strapped on the end and wore a grey greatcoat that was slightly shiny with age, its collars and cuffs threadbare and unravelled.
‘I mean no harm,’ he said.
His voice was odd. A loud whisper. Like he was trying to project his voice but couldn’t. When he took another step forward Milly could see why. A jagged, violent red scar ran across his throat from ear to ear. His eyes flickered from side to side like an herbivore looking for a predator. Hunted. Nervous.
Nathaniel gestured towards the fire.
‘Sit.’
The man pegged the butt of the spear into the snow and sat down opposite Milly and Nathaniel. He held out his hands to the fire and eyed the rabbits hungrily.
Nathaniel took one of the rabbits off the fire, rolled it in the snow to cool it down a little and then handed it to the stranger.
‘Eat.’
The man took the offering with a nod of his head and started gnawing at the meat. It was obvious that he was ravenous.
Nathaniel used a stick to pull some of the burdock roots from the coals. He skewered them and gave them to the stranger.
‘Here. Eat these as well. Can’t survive on rabbit unless you eat something else with it. Body can’t process the flesh. Not enough fat in it.’
The man blew on the roots to cool them and then chewed away.
Nathaniel cut up the second rabbit and more of the roots, put some on a plate for Milly and served her. She ate without talking as he finished off what was left.
‘My name’s Barnaby,’ rasped the stranger. ‘Barnaby Wells. Thank you kindly for the food, big man. I appreciate it, I do.’
‘Nathaniel Hogan. United States Marine Corp. This here is Milly.’
Milly smiled. ‘Hi.’
The stranger grunted at her.
‘So where do you hail from, Barnaby?’
‘I used to have a farm,’ answered Barnaby. ‘Some twenty miles south west of here.’
‘Used to?’
‘Aye. Things were all right after the sun thing happened. Had cows, sheep. A few crops. Hand pump for the well. Most of my labor was local. Five young men. Two of them married, no children. I had a wife and a daughter. The boys moved their families onto the farm. Had a nice little community going. Then the others came one night. Set fire to the farmhouse. Killed all as they tried to escape the flames. I had my shotgun. Killed two of them. They hit me on the head, cut my throat. Left me for dead. Next morning I woke up, crawled into the forest. Been running and hiding ever since.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Tough break, man. Have you seen them since?’
Barnaby shook his head. ‘Don’t think so. Seen some gangs. Not big enough to be them.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘Why did they have to kill everyone? Why can’t the survivors all help each other? Why is it all so messed up?’
‘It’s man’s default setting, Barnaby. We think that we’re civilized, but inside every one of us waits a monster, simply waiting to get out. Begging to be let free to do as it will. Life is a cock up, my friend. And then you die.’
‘That’s not true,’ cried out Milly, tears in her eyes. ‘That’s not true. Say so, Nate. Say it’s not true.’ She burst into tears.
The marine took her into his arms.
‘I’m sorry, my sweet. Pay no attention. Of course it’s not true,’ he assured her.
But his eyes belied his words.
Eventually Milly fell asleep in Nathaniel’s arms and he picked her up and put her to bed in the bivouac.
Then he went back outside and sat next to the fire. Awake.
He would not sleep with a stranger amongst them.
He would not allow any harm to come to Milly.
The fire burned low.
Barnaby curled up next to it and, grasping his makeshift spear, we
nt to sleep.
And the forever man kept guard.
***
That morning Nathaniel filled a pot with Beech sap and boiled some burdock roots in it until they were soft and the liquid had reduced down to a syrupy consistency. After that he mashed the whole lot up and served. It tasted like very sweet porridge.
Then he packed up the camp, saddled Tintin, put Milly up and jumped up behind her. He delved into his saddlebag and pulled out two lengths of wire that had been attached to small wooden stakes. The wire formed a noose that stuck out from the side of the pointed piece of wood.
He handed them to Barnaby.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘They’re rabbit snares. Peg them in when you see a game trial or path. Set them, at night before you camp down. Remember, dig up burdock roots and wild carrots whenever you can. You’ll starve on just rabbit.’
Barnaby took the snares. ‘Thanks, marine. But can’t I stay with you?’
Nathaniel shook his head. ‘Sorry, dude. We travel alone.’ He nudged his horse into a fast walk. ‘Keep safe, stranger.’
Barnaby stood and waved at them until they were out of sight, then he sat down next to the remains of the fire and stared blankly at the snow. He ran his fingers over the wire loops and wondered what a game trail looked like.
Then he threw back his head and howled in anguish.
No one heard him.
***
It would surprise most people to know that, although the United Kingdom is a highly populated country only six percent of it is classified as urban, As well as this almost one sixth of the land mass is covered in forest.
This means that it is entirely possible to travel both the length and breadth of England without ever entering a city, town or village.
That is what Nathaniel had been attempting to do. But sometimes, although possible, it was impractical. And after all, he figured, what would be the harm in taking a short cut through a suburban area?
The marine cast his gaze over the sprawl of houses that seemed to stretch from one end of the horizon to the other. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was or what city he was looking at. If he had to guess he would have said Sheffield. As it happens, it was Nottingham, but that fact would make no difference to the marine.
He nudged Tintin in the flanks and the horse walked forward. Milly pulled her cloak tight around her. They trudged slowly through one of the city’s outer suburbs. A lower middle class area. Victorian terraced houses strung together. Three bedrooms, family bathroom. Guest toilet downstairs. For some reason, many of them were mere burned out shells. Some serious fire had rampaged through the neighborhood at some stage. Nathaniel judged that the conflagration had happened some three or four weeks ago, judging from the amount of snow on top of the charred hulks.
The place was deathly quiet and there was no sign of people. It was like a plague had swept the area. It puzzled the marine, as he would have expected at least a few survivors. Perhaps they were hiding.
Tintin stumbled slightly on a patch of ice that covered the tarred road so Nathaniel dismounted and helped Milly off. He figured that they could walk alongside the horse for a while. It wasn’t worth risking an injury to their only mode of transport bar their own leg power.
They turned the corner into a street that was even more burned and broken down than the others they had passed. It must have been the epicenter of some major battle as Nathaniel noticed burned corpses in some of the downstairs rooms. Some of them had limbs missing. Lying on the pavement he spotted a severed arm, shriveled and desiccated. It must have been there for at least a month.
He kicked at the snow, exposing the surface below. The ground was covered with expended shotgun shells and shiny brass cartridges. The marine was starting to regret his decision to come this way and, unconsciously, he began to speed up.
He started as he heard a sound, but it was only a kitten running across the road into a service alley that ran between two houses.
Milly immediately ran after the tiny feline.
‘Oh, look. Kitty,’ she followed it into the service alley. ‘Come, kitty.’
Nathaniel ran after her. ‘No, Milly. Wait.’
He quickly tied Tintin to a street lamp and jogged into the alley that led into a patch of garden behind one of the houses.
There were four men in the garden. Nathaniel wasn’t sure who was more surprised, him or them. Two of the men were holding a girl between them. Her long dark hair hung over her face but it was obvious that she had been badly beaten. Bruises and swellings stood out in livid colors against her pale skin and blood flowed from a gash in her temple.
The other two men held hunting rifles. Both were pointed at the marine. Milly stood to one side, a look of terror on her face.
Nathaniel held his hands up.
‘Whoa, guys,’ he said. ‘I’m not here to cause trouble. Relax.’
One of the men stepped forward, his weapon still trained on Nathaniel. ‘Don’t tell us to relax. We’ll decide if we want to relax or not. Who are you, who are you with?’
‘I’m not with anyone.’
The injured girl groaned in pain.
‘Is she alright?’ Asked Nathaniel. ‘I have a few medical supplies, maybe I should take a look at her?’
‘She’s fine,’ said the man. ‘She tried to run away and she paid the price.’
As he spoke the girl started to fit, her body shaking uncontrollably and her teeth cracking together. Blood streamed from her mouth as she bit deeply into her tongue.
‘Jesus, guys,’ said Nathaniel as he stepped forward. ‘Put her down, let me take a look at her, please.’
‘Get back,’ shouted the man.
Nathaniel kept his hands up but took another step toward the fitting girl. ‘I’m just going to take a look. Please, she’s in trouble, man.’ He took another tentative step towards her.
Without another warning the man pulled his trigger. The large hunting caliber round struck the marine in his left shoulder and spun him around. He reacted instantly, pulling his axe from his belt and swung a huge overhand blow at the man. The blade bit into his shoulder and lopped his right arm off, sending both the arm and rifle to the ground. But, as Nathaniel turned to face the others the second rifleman fired. The slug struck the marine in the center of his chest, lifted him off his feet and slammed him against the wall. The rifles barked again and the second slug hit Nathaniel in the stomach, exiting his back in a fountain of guts and gore.
He slid down the wall and collapsed on the ground as his life’s blood drained into the soil.
Chapter 10
The three young men stood in front of Ammon, hands behind their backs, legs astride, eyes forward. The glamoring ensured that they saw him as all humans did. Six-foot tall, shoulder length blond hair, blue eyes. Square jawed. His build lithe and athletic. His smile kind and welcoming.
The Fair-Folk commander shook his head. ‘I am sorry, good people, but we of the Fair-Folk have no need for you in our defense force. To be blunt, you have no skills that we need. Our battle orcs are superior swordsmen and our goblins are unsurpassed at their skills in archery. Perhaps you could take the place of the constructs and fetch and carry but I suspect that is not the position that you all seek.’
The youths shook their heads.
‘No, sir,’ said the one. ‘We seek to be more involved. We want to be a part of something, an integral part, not merely a carrier of water and goods.’
‘Why?’ Asked Ammon.
‘Well, sir, to be honest, since our world changed we do not know what to do. Before the pulse I was an apprentice electrician, now, what with no electrics, I don’t know what to do. Barry here was a diesel mechanic and Vincent was a fitter and turner.’
Ammon frowned. ‘I know not what these job descriptions mean. The words are foreign to me. However, I get the gist. Still, once again, I am sorry but we simply have no use for you. Now, if I were you I would be on my way. It is many hours walk to your village and you don’t want to be out in the d
ark in this cold weather.’
Barry smiled. ‘Oh no, sir,’ he said. ‘There’s no need to worry. We came on horseback. What would be a half a day’s walk is only an hour and a half on horseback. No worries, sir.’
Ammon cocked his head to one side. ‘You boys come from Pennance, don’t you?’
They nodded.
‘Wait. We need to talk further.’ Ammon put his hand to his temple and concentrated, letting his mind flow, seeking Seth.
‘Yes, commander,’ said the mage, his voice echoing in Ammon’s mind.
‘Could you come to my tent?’ Pulsed Ammon back at the mage. ‘We need to talk.’
‘On my way,’ confirmed Seth.
The mage arrived within minutes, bowing to Ammon as he entered the tent.
‘How can I help, commander?’
‘These youths are from the village of Pennance,’ he said. ‘They claim to have ridden here on horseback in an hour and one half.’
Seth nodded. ‘The horse is a very fast animal, Commander,’ he said. ‘I have no doubt that they could have done it faster if needs be.’
‘Is that true?’ Asked Ammon, addressing the humans.
‘Yes, sir,’ said one. ‘Under an hour if I wanted.’
Ammon turned to his senior mage. ‘Why aren’t we using these horse creatures?’ He asked.
‘What for, commander?’
‘Many things, delivering fast messages between battle groups and villages. Emergency supplies, scouting.’
‘Actually, commander,’ replied Seth. ‘We have tried. The horses cannot stand either the orcs nor the goblins. For some reason, when any get close to them they either bolt or attack. And when they attack they are fearsome creatures. All teeth and hooves.’
‘Why don’t they like us? The dogs like us.’
‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Seth. ‘But dogs like everyone. It’s in their nature. Horses are more highly strung.’
Ammon thought for a while. ‘Tell me, do you have any more friends with horses?’