Darwin's Soldiers

by Ste Sharp

  No, he thought, I owe him a debt no matter who he is.

  Ignoring his itching temples, Dakaniha slipped an arrow into his bow and aimed behind the running man. As soon as a fleck of grey fur rose from the ground, he fired four paces ahead, then at the next wolf when it revealed itself. Exhaling with each arrow, Dakaniha had little time to see if he had hit each target, and only stopped when Kastor and Osayimwese jumped in to attack, releasing their javelins in unison and unsheathing their swords to charge the wolves. Their yells echoed up the cliff as Kastor pummelled a wolf with his shield and jabbed with his short sword. Osayimwese tried a different tack when his wolf turned on him: with a deft feint, he dodged the flying claws and nicked the wolf’s belly with his sword and eggshell dagger. Isolated, Osayimwese and the wolf repeated their fight to the death until, on his third attempt, Osayimwese stabbed the beast through the heart.

  They had distracted some wolves but three remained focused on the rifleman, who scrambled up the cliff, trying to gain safety on a rocky ledge near the cliff’s base.

  Dakaniha looked over to Gal-qadan and the rest of the group. They were too far away to help and Dakaniha watched in horror as the rifleman stumbled on the loose rocks. The lead wolf pounced with teeth bared. Then a flash lit up the cliff, followed by an explosion that echoed like an avalanche.

  When Dakaniha’s eyes had recovered he saw that the wolf was dead by the rifleman’s side and the surviving wolves were running back to the woods, slipping into the safety of the earth. He slowly slid down to where the rifleman rested, noticing odd shapes in the rock plateau around him.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked the stranger.

  The man squinted from beneath his peaked hat and said something in a language Dakaniha had heard before but couldn’t understand. One word did stand out though: Cherokee.

  Dakaniha bristled. ‘Aniyunwiya,’ he replied with a snap and pulled a mushroom from his satchel. Tode had given him it shortly after blowing the spores in his face and Dakaniha repeated the process now.

  The man coughed and aimed his gun at Dakaniha, who held his hands up and waited for the dust to work its power.

  ‘Take your time,’ Dakaniha said as he put the mushroom away, ‘and wait until you can understand me.’

  The man’s face calmed, he lowered his rifle and rubbed his nose. ‘Say, what was that?’ he asked.

  Dakaniha gestured at the forest. ‘Another gift from this strange land.’

  ‘Like those wolves? Hell, it looks like the Unionists got men from every goddam creed searching this land, and now the wildlife don’t want me here either.’ The stranger looked at the rifle Dakaniha had taken from the dead soldier. ‘Say, are you one of Stand Watie’s men?’

  ‘No, I…’ Dakaniha started.

  ‘Well, I’m Ethan Turner… a sharpshooter.’ He patted his rifle. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you could point me in the direction of the nearest Fed outpost.’

  Dakaniha stared at the stranger’s long, thin limbs and grey skin. He had seen the same colour on British soldiers who had been blown up by powder kegs.

  ‘I’m not sure where we are,’ Dakaniha replied. ‘We’re searching for the silver gates.’

  ‘Silver gates?’ Ethan looked up. ‘What in hell’s name are you talkin’ about?’

  ‘Our chief–’

  Kastor hopped up to join them. ‘They’re all dead or gone!’ he pointed at the scattering of dead wolves.

  ‘You’re wounded.’ Dakaniha pointed to a cut on Kastor’s knee that dripped blood onto the smooth rock.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing – just a scratch,’ Kastor said.

  ‘Osayimwese?’ Dakaniha asked.

  ‘He’s fine.’ Kastor wrinkled his nose. ‘He’s not bad with a spear, you know.’

  Gal-qadan and the rest of the group descended the scree fall to join them on the rocky platform.

  ‘That was an impressive fight,’ a bearded swordsman said, nodding and smiling. ‘Good work!’

  Kastor tilted his head. ‘Next time we’ll charge a fee.’

  ‘This is Ethan Turner.’ Dakaniha felt obliged to introduce the newcomer. ‘He is the man who killed the eagle.’

  Ethan pulled the cap on his hat down further and mumbled, ‘Damned light burns my eyes.’

  Gal-qadan mumbled, ‘He can join us.’

  ‘I prefer to work alone,’ Ethan kept his head low, trying to avoid eye contact, ‘but if you guys are heading to the nearest outpost I could tag along.’

  ‘There are no outposts here,’ Dakaniha said.

  ‘Okay then.’ Ethan sighed and stood to his full height. At nearly two metres tall, he towered over the men around him. ‘I’ve never heard of no silver gates, but if you’re heading my way I could use some company.’

  ***

  Gal-qadan remained on the rock and took in the group that were now under his command. Ethan’s rifle was a worthy addition, he thought, and he weighed up the men as they shared rations and stories. While he thought, Gal-qadan rubbed a spot of Kastor’s blood into the rock with the tip of his bow. The curves and shapes in the rock seemed familiar and he bent down to take a closer look. A line of a leg here, a head there and an eye. Horses? he thought, and his gaze flicked to another drip of blood, which had been absorbed into the rock near what looked like a horse’s fetlock.

  It twitched.

  Gal-qadan gasped and looked at his battalion. No one had noticed and they continued their buzz of chatter. He took a step back and scanned the fossils beneath his feet: horse-like creatures lay in various death poses within the dark stone, with hooves and long legs at odd angles.

  If a drop of blood gave life to one muscle?

  ‘Tode,’ Gal-qadan snapped. ‘Order the men to forage for food. Send some for fresh water.’

  ‘Yes, Khan,’ Tode replied and started ordering the men into groups.

  Before they moved out of sight into the forest, Gal-qadan whittled down his options. He could provide more blood himself or… he weighed up his men’s weapons and usefulness. One man stood aloof from the group. He could be sacrificed.

  ‘I need that man for another job,’ Gal-qadan said and Tode beckoned the soldier over.

  The Mayan blinked and stayed silent beside Gal-qadan as he waited for Tode and the others to move further into the forest.

  ‘We need soldiers,’ Gal-qadan said, ‘but we need horses more. Can you ride?’

  The Mayan looked blank. ‘I don’t know what horses are, I…’

  Gal-qadan held a hand up to silence him and unclipped his dagger, but the Mayan had noticed and drew his weapon in response.

  ‘Look.’ Gal-qadan pointed to the forest to distract him and swiped at the Mayan, but he was too fast and countered the attack.

  Gal-qadan cursed himself for not attacking sooner and raised his arm to defend against the Mayan, who had swung his axe. Gal-qadan dodged and swiped with his knife, but the Mayan’s handle was longer, giving him a greater reach. Incensed, Gal-qadan rushed and took the Mayan by surprise, tackling him to the ground, but Gal-qadan fell awkwardly and the Mayan had room to swing his weapon, which came crashing down. Gal-qadan held an arm up in defence and watched in disbelief as the razor-sharp stone axe bounced off his forearm with a shower of sparks.

  The Mayan stumbled back in confusion and swung again. Gal-qadan defended and the sparks flew again. His skin was as tough as metal! A new energy surged through Gal-qadan. They grappled on the rock ledge, but Gal-qadan felt invincible now and the fight slowly turned in his favour. Blades clashed and sparks leapt around them until Gal-qadan saw an opening and took it. With a flash of steel, Gal-qadan painted a red line across the soldier’s throat and blood cascaded down his chest, splashing maroon dots onto the rock. The Mayan gurgled and grabbed at his opened throat as Gal-qadan struck again, slicing at his arm and then his calf, sending the Mayan crashing to the ground.

  The dying warrior eventually stopped convulsing, yet the blood poured from his opened veins, pooling in the crevasses and curves scattered acr
oss the rock. Gal-qadan gave a rare smile, and scanned the forest. Nobody was in sight, so he threw the Mayan’s weapon into a pile of rocks and rolled the body over, spreading blood on more dry rock. Shapes jolted beneath his feet as Gal-qadan set to work, hacking away and distributing limbs to dry areas.

  When he had covered most of the fossilised mass, Gal-qadan climbed up the cliff to watch the rock come to life. A curve of leg vibrated here and a circle blinked there, followed by spasms and mini-earthquakes which shook the dust and crumbled the stone. A sound could be heard, muffled at first but becoming clearer: tock, tock, tock-a-tock. Stones were shaking free from the rumbling mass and small boulders rolled onto the grassy floor. Then a leg broke free from its stone prison, clawing at thin air. Stones rolled, shaken by equine heads rising out of the dust and hindquarters struggling with wild kicks.

  Gal-qadan listened to the animal’s sound. Tocka, tocka, tock-tock. He pictured hooves clashing against the rocks but a head broke free and he saw a large set of sharpened incisors gnashing together: tocka, tocka.

  ‘Steady!’ Gal-qadan shouted as the beast flung its head about: its wild eyes staring about in fear.

  The animal chomped in panic, shaking a foreleg free, then the other. It was clear by their teeth that these horses were not grass eaters. These will be better than any steppe horse, Gal-qadan thought, and found his cheeks aching from his wide grin. His breathing sped up with the excitement and turned into a deep laugh.

  ‘Run free!’ he shouted.

  With a deep crack, the ledge gave way and crashed onto the grass below. Gal-qadan caught glimpses of heads and legs, wild eyes and teeth, but the dust billowed up, masking the host of freed beasts who screamed and chomped in exultation. When the cloud settled, the grass was covered with nothing more than grey stones and cracked boulders, covering what was left of the Mayan’s body.

  Gal-qadan scanned the forest but the only movement he saw were his men returning to the cliff, drawn back by the sound of the landslide.

  ‘What happened?’ Tode asked after sprinting back with Kastor and Dakaniha.

  ‘The horses were in the rocks,’ Gal-qadan replied. ‘The man with me died in the rockslide when they broke free.’

  He watched the men’s face to see if they believed the lie, then clambered down the rocks to the grass floor and kept alert.

  ‘There!’ Gal-qadan pointed to their left flank, where sounds echoed through the forest: crashing branches and running hooves.

  Time to break them in, Gal-qadan thought, and pulled a rope free from his belt.

  ‘Tocka!’ he shouted. ‘To-cka, to-cka!’ He tied a lasso and swung it through the air. Here they come; he could hear the hooves getting nearer. ‘Tock-a, tock-a!’

  Then the sound stopped.

  Strange how the floor still rumbled, Gal-qadan thought. Then, with a flash of white, the herd rushed out of the forest with eyes of tigers and teeth of sharks. Gal-qadan stood his ground and released his lasso but it failed to snare a head. A bite caught him on the shoulder, slicing into his armour, but it slipped off his toughened skin.

  As soon as they came, they disappeared.

  ‘Amazing!’ Gal-qadan staggered backwards.

  The equine predators wheeled around and sped in for another attack. Gal-qadan braced himself, refusing to unsheathe a weapon. He heard yelling behind but focused on the wild animals rushing at him: jostling and barging one another to be in the lead.

  Then something changed – he sensed it in the animals’ eyes. Their expressions softened and the front runners braked hard, digging their strong hooves into the grassy earth. A tsunami of dirt billowed up as the herd came to a sliding stop.

  ‘They obey me!’ Gal-qadan said, his eyes wide with excitement.

  ‘No.’ Kastor was standing behind him. ‘They obey me.’

  ‘But, I must break them.’ Gal-qadan felt anger rise and his right hand twitch for his sword.

  ‘They won’t be broken,’ Kastor replied. ‘They are equals and have the right to choose. These… tocka, will not be led.’

  ‘Tocka?’ Gal-qadan breathed deeply and weighed up his options. He could kill Kastor for insubordination. He wouldn’t allow this kind of arrogant behaviour in his army.

  One of the taller equines, some sixteen hands high, stepped forward and offered its muzzle to Kastor. Gal-qadan took a deep breath and controlled his ego. He still held power. If he ruled the Spartan, he ruled the beasts. Without the Spartan, he would have no horses.

  ‘Will they carry men?’ Gal-qadan asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ the Spartan said as he patted the soft muzzle and grinned, ‘but we can ask them.’

  ***

  Two hours later, Gal-qadan’s troop rode through the last stretch of forest on their steeds and found themselves at the shore of an enormous waterway. Gal-qadan studied the detritus left along the sandy beach: vines, sea bladders and lumps of wood.

  Tode joined Gal-qadan after scouting the beach. ‘There was a battle here. Craters suggest gunpowder, and there are bodies of giant insects.’

  Gal-qadan nodded and more men joined them.

  ‘What will we do?’ Dakaniha asked.

  Gal-qadan glowered at him and clenched his fist. These men asked much of him and it made him feel… trapped. He paused to let his anger slide and noted how easier it had become in the past few days. It was true what Tode had said: Dakaniha was an accomplished rider. He could be useful.

  Scanning down the beach, Gal-qadan saw a group of a dozen men in red coats dragging wood onto the beach. If they were heading across the water, and the mess on the beach suggested others had built rafts, it left him no option.

  ‘Gather your belongings and make them waterproof,’ Gal-qadan spoke slowly. ‘Tie the bladders to your weapons. The tocka will take us.’ He nodded to the water.

  ‘What?’ Kastor shouted. ‘You don’t even know if they can swim.’

  Gal-qadan shrugged. ‘Ask them.’

  ***

  General Panzicosta watched Millok’s sleek, grey body descend the watchtower ladder and felt stirrings beneath his carapace. They didn’t have the domed halls of sex slaves here, so Panzicosta’s sexual frustration had built up since settling in Abzicrutia. The only way he had found to reduce tension was to inflict pain on others. The power he had over his captives was addictive. With it he could incite fear – he chose when to cause pain and when a creature would die. If the torture helped the Brakari cause then it was a bonus.

  ‘General Panzicosta.’ Millok bowed and her new stripes flashed.

  ‘Your leg is still weak.’ Panzicosta had only seen the leg wobble once, but could tell by Millok’s open spiracles that maintaining the illusion of fitness was tiring her.

  ‘Yes, General, but growing stronger by the hour,’ she replied.

  An answer for everything, Panzicosta thought. ‘Good, we need every soldier fighting fit for the forthcoming battle. Now,’ he raised his body up and stalked over to the barrack gates, ‘we have much to discuss. Good and bad.’ He walked on, expecting Millok to follow him.

  They left the barracks, past the makeshift huts leaning against the mud-brick walls of the city.

  ‘If you haven’t already heard,’ Panzicosta kept his voice low, ‘three of the seventeen scouting parties have not reported back.’ He waited for a response, eager to know how fast the gossip was travelling through the army.

  ‘I have heard rumours, General,’ Millok replied, keeping her head low.

  ‘Where?’ Panzicosta stopped and loomed over the female.

  ‘In the watchtower.’

  With a snort, Panzicosta resumed his walk. ‘Belsang put it down to communication issues. But three? We must be under attack.’ The General stretched his long blue back to crack a shell in place. ‘I say we weaken them, but Belsang wants them in large numbers for our great victory.’

  ‘A risky strategy.’ Millok spoke softly.

  ‘Yes.’ Panzicosta decided not to chastise her for speaking openly: she was here to he
lp and provide a sounding board for his thoughts. ‘Victory will be ours, but at what cost?’

  Perimeter guards were approaching, so Panzicosta remained silent.

  ‘General. Captain.’ The pair of young Brakari crouched between huts to let them pass.

  Panzicosta noticed Millok inhale as they passed.

  ‘Of the remaining scouts,’ Panzicosta continued, ‘fifteen report nothing… but two have seen separate groups of humans making their way across the plains.’

  Millok slowed her stride for a second. ‘There are more of them?’ She skipped to catch up.

  ‘Not in great numbers, but I fear we may have underestimated their capacity to evolve and survive.’ Panzicosta saw the mud-brick holding cells up ahead and felt a tingle run through his pincers. ‘We should take the fight to them before they create alliances with any surviving species.’

  Panzicosta felt distracted by the stench of unwashed vertebrates and their faeces. They passed the first cell , which had been built to form a box with no lid. Inside, three starved and beaten Sorean soldiers whimpered and slept , their fur and muzzles burnt and torn. In the next cell, whose windowless walls were high enough to trap their captives but low enough for Panzicosta to retrieve them, two red , twisted and tentacled creatures lay in their own mess. One wasn’t moving, so Panzicosta halted and sniffed. ‘Krotank!’ he bellowed.

  A bulky and scarred Brakari scurried out of a doorway down the path. ‘Yes, General!’

  ‘Why is this creature dead?’ Panzicosta barked.

  ‘It was alive this morning, General, I checked – ’

  Panzicosta thumped Krotank with a thick, spring-loaded pincer, flinging him back onto his shell. ‘I decide when they die, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, General!’ Krotank wriggled to right himself. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  ‘You are right it won’t happen again,’ Panzicosta hissed , ‘ or you’ll have a cell of your own.’ Panzicosta snorted and retracted his thumping pincer. ‘Go!’ he shouted and turned to check Millok was still behind him. ‘This will not be tolerated.’