Darwin's Soldiers

by Ste Sharp

  Then the flash had taken him.

  ‘We must keep moving,’ Randeep said. The group of four stood now by a clump of shrubs a hundred paces from the forest Peronicus-Rax had warned them about.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Samas. Always a calming influence, Olan thought. ‘We’ll find John soon enough and have him back with the others before night.’ The Babylonian stared at the forest for a few long seconds. ‘Plus if Peronicus is wary of this forest, we should be too.’

  Randeep huffed and adjusted his blue turban. ‘He’s weak and these creatures will be nothing to worry about. Let’s go – come on!’ The swordsman was off.

  Lavalle raised an eyebrow at Olan.

  ‘Come on then.’ Olan loosened the strap holding his axe.

  They found Randeep crouched behind a tree. He beckoned them over and put a finger to his lips. Olan saw the issue.

  ‘A village?’ Lavalle whispered. ‘How on earth is that here?’

  Some fifty paces away through the open woodland, Olan could see several timber houses and a few upturned boats. ‘It doesn’t look defended.’

  Samas was rubbing his chin. ‘Do we just walk in and ask if anyone’s seen John?’

  Randeep looked tense. ‘No, we must attack. They have him captive.’

  ‘That would be unwise.’ A voice made them turn and aim their weapons. Four shining blades pointed at a black and brown furred creature who stood no higher than Olan’s elbow.

  ‘Who are you?’ Olan asked.

  The cat-like humanoid wrinkled its muzzle and tilted its head inquisitively. ‘I am Captain Jakan-tar of the Sorean and if you cross that fence you will be in great danger.’

  ***

  John was still smiling. He couldn’t believe that, after everything he’d been through – the trenches; the charges across no-man’s-land; the crater; the bizarre events of the past ten days – Joe had found him. It didn’t matter how. All John had wanted to do was hug his son and talk to him, but Joe kept running off.

  When the morning light brought colour to the desert, Joe led him to a strip of green on the horizon. John had ignored his thirst and his stomach was too excited to be hungry. When they finally made it to the woodland, Joe pointed into the trees then disappeared into the darkness with a cheeky smile. John hadn’t seen him since, although he’d called for him several times.

  Not far from the wood’s edge, John found a picket fence surrounding rows of wooden buildings, which looked oddly familiar.

  Like a training camp, he thought, but spotted a flag. Was this a hospital?

  He found the gate and was walking through the compound when a voice made him turn.

  ‘What are you doing there, soldier?’ As soon as he heard the clipped tones, John’s back straightened and he turned on his heels.

  ‘I, err… I’m looking for an officer, sir.’ John could see by the crown on his shoulder he was being addressed by a major.

  ‘Well you’ve found him.’ The Major wore a thick, trim moustache and had piercing blue eyes which John couldn’t hold for more than a second. ‘Now, what are your orders and what in heaven’s name have you done to your weapon?’ The Major pointed a gloved hand at John’s gun-arm.

  ‘I lost my regiment, sir.’

  A hundred thoughts whirled in John’s head as he tried to make sense of what had had happened to him: the bizarre creatures; the wasps; the obelisks; the robot’s castle. They had to be real, just like Crossley, Mata, Lavalle and the others, but how did that fit with… this place?

  ‘And?’ the Major barked.

  John struggled to make sense of it. He saw a red cross on the nearest hut and it started to make sense. ‘I was injured, sir.’

  ‘Injured? Yes.’ The Major sounded like Mihran, John thought. ‘Rest and recuperation are the order of the day, what?’ He nodded at the huts. ‘It looks like you’ve bought your Blighty ticket, eh? Just head through and the nurses will help you out.’

  John could hear laughter on the other side of the huts and caught a glimpse of someone wearing white.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ John started to walk off then remembered Joe. ‘And my son, sir?’

  The Major squinted and John avoided his stare. ‘He’ll be along shortly,’ he replied and marched off.

  John walked through the gap between the huts and saw nurses in their blue dresses and white pinafores attending to men in lounge chairs while, on the short grass beyond, men were running about and playing cricket. John had never really taken to the game but smiled all the same. He looked up at the hazy sky. Strange how it could be cloudy on such a sunny day, he thought.

  A nurse raised a hand to shade her eyes and caught sight of him. ‘Hello.’ Her voice reminded John of Rosie’s and his stomach fluttered. ‘Have you just arrived?’

  ‘Yes, I… the Major said to come through.’

  ‘Right. Well, follow me and we’ll have a look at you – it’s your arm, isn’t it?’ The nurse’s perfume wafted on the soft wind as she walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’ll have you right as rain in no time.’ The nurse led him into a whitewashed hut and picked up his bags. ‘I’ll take these. Have a seat.’

  ‘Thanks.’ John felt the urge to take off his shoes and thought of Joe. ‘Will my son be here soon?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ The nurse gave John a sweet smile. ‘He’s been telling us all about you. He’s a lovely boy. A credit to you.’

  ‘Well,’ John felt himself blush as the nurse wrapped a bleached-white sling around his gun-arm, ‘my parents have been raising him these past years, what with the war and all.’

  ‘Yes, so sad about your wife. Here, please take this.’ The nurse handed John a small pill and a glass of water.

  ‘Rosie,’ John said after swallowing.

  ‘Yes, Rosie.’ The nurse tied the sling tight. ‘Ah, the doctor’s here. I’ll see you soon, John.’

  ‘Oh, bye, and thanks.’

  ‘John Greene?’ A grey-haired man in a white coat was standing at his side, reading from a clipboard. The voice reminded him of Lavalle.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘No “sir” here, John, I’m just a doctor.’ He ran a finger down the clipboard. ‘Now, you were stationed at Ypres, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, before…’

  ‘Yes, yes, I don’t need your whole war story, laddie, I just need to check you’re our man. The boys can tell you where we are with the war, but I need you to rest. Get you on the mend.’

  ‘Yes.’ John turned back to the men outside, relaxing on loungers with a book or newspaper carelessly discarded on their chests.

  ‘We’re glad you’re safe, John,’ the doctor continued. ‘We heard there was a spot of trouble last week with a breakout from the mental institution.’

  John looked up. He felt woozy but something told him this was important, so he tried to focus.

  ‘Many men escaped – shell-shocked, disillusioned, gassed, you name it – the word is they were terrorising the countryside dressed up as cowboys and Spartans, knights and Romans, if you could picture such a thing!’

  ‘What?’ John pictured Samas with his shield and Lavalle and his sword… but as each image came, it floated away in a mist.

  ‘Yes, strange days, although I hear they are being rounded up as we speak.’ He popped his pen back in his coat’s top pocket and gave a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll look after you and I can guarantee you won’t be going back to that God-awful war.’

  ‘Great.’ John blinked slowly and stared back out at the green grass and smiling faces. His eyelids were so heavy. ‘But what about…’ He saw the doctor leaving. ‘What about Joe?’

  ***

  Olan turned to Randeep, Lavalle and Samas, who looked as bemused as he felt.

  ‘You are a captain?’ Lavalle asked the short furred humanoid, whose arms looked too long for its short striped body.

  ‘Yes.’ Jakan-tar’s muzzle twitched. ‘Captain Jakan-tar of the Sorean, and my soldiers ar
e trapped in that compound.’ Jakan-tar pointed to where Olan saw wooden houses and upturned boats.

  ‘Why don’t you just break in and save them?’ Randeep asked.

  Jakan-tar sniffed before replying, ‘I have no protection.’

  ‘We believe one of our soldiers is also in the village,’ Samas said.

  ‘And we intend to save him,’ Lavalle added.

  ‘Then you will be captured.’ Jakan-tar made a move to walk away. ‘I have warned you.’

  ‘But there must be a way.’ Olan stepped forward. ‘Please, can you help us?’

  Jakan-tar’s head dropped. ‘I have been walking these woods for months. There is no way.’

  ‘What happened?’ Olan asked.

  ‘We don’t have time for this!’ Randeep moved forward. ‘Let’s just get John out and be done with it.’

  ‘We lost our battle.’ Jakan-tar ignored Randeep. ‘And wandered this dead land searching for somewhere to heal our wounded. The first soldier rushed in here and…’

  ‘And?’ Olan felt like crouching as though talking to a child, but held back.

  ‘They are trapped. Healed, but trapped all the same,’ Jakan-tar said.

  ‘Have you been able to contact them?’ Samas asked.

  ‘I can see them but when I go near the village I feel the pull, my thoughts are changed and…’

  ‘Can you show us?’ Olan asked.

  Jakan-tar led the group to the edge of the village, where they peeked through the vines and low branches. ‘This is as near as I dare go,’ the Captain whispered.

  Olan felt his stomach tighten as he stared upon a perfect image of home. Nostalgia rose inside and he felt the urge to run out of the forest.

  ‘My god.’ Lavalle shook his head. ‘The castle looks impenetrable… and the women and children in the meadow – it’s a veritable Land of Cockayne!’

  ‘What?’ Olan looked at the knight and then back at the fjord-side village. ‘I can see the women and children but no castle – is it on the shore?’

  ‘What shore?’ Lavalle frowned. ‘It’s on the hilltop surrounded by gorse and thick woodland.’

  ‘All I see on the hill is the farmstead,’ Samas said. ‘With vineyards and olive groves lining the slopes, but no forest or shore.’

  Olan looked at Randeep but he said nothing.

  Jakan-tar had kept back. ‘You all see something different to me. I see the burrow entrances and the smithies smelting in the open. I see my soldiers’ abandoned weapons strung up on signposts and I see the younglings. What are these women you talk of?’

  ‘The females.’ Lavalle said. ‘The childbearers. Our wives and loved ones…’

  Olan suspected Lavalle was thinking about Euryleia.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Jakan-tar replied. ‘We Sorean reproduce equally.’

  Randeep sighed and whispered, ‘As interesting as this is, we aren’t saving John.’ He made a move to go through the undergrowth.

  ‘No, don’t go nearer!’ Olan whispered.

  The Sikh swordsman gave him a sneer and held his position. ‘Why?’

  Jakan-tar’s fur twitched and it pointed a clawed hand. ‘Look!’

  Olan saw a newcomer stroll down the shore to where a group of fishermen were hauling in a net, surrounded by women with salt and barrels. They were friendly with the man as he patted them on the back.

  ‘It’s one of them – one of the Frarex,’ Jakan-tar said.

  ‘The Frarex?’ Samas asked. ‘Why do I recognise that name?’

  ‘It was on one of the obelisks,’ Lavalle answered. ‘They lost their battle.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jakan-tar said. ‘And they renounced violence.’

  ‘They what? How?’ Olan asked.

  ‘They destroyed their weapons and set this trap to entice other soldiers: a place where they would forget how to fight and settle down.’

  ‘Sirens,’ Olan heard Lavalle whisper.

  ‘Still, there must be a way in,’ Samas said.

  ‘You will fall for their spell and become trapped, just like them.’ It sounded like Jakan-tar was losing patience.

  Olan’s compatriots were fighting the urge to rush forward to free the captive soldiers. It was tempting but he also felt an affinity towards these Frarex, who had suppressed their bloodlust and saved countless lives through their peaceful ways. ‘How would we know who was the enemy and who were innocent?’ he asked.

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ Jakan-tar replied. ‘The Frarex weave their charm between them – kill one and the others take the strain.’

  Olan grunted and shook his head.

  Lavalle looked around. ‘Where’s Randeep?’

  The others looked around, but the Sikh couldn’t be seen.

  ‘I’ll get him.’ Olan pushed through the undergrowth.

  Back in the open ground of the forest, Olan unclipped his axe and took swings at the low branches. ‘Randeep?’ he called out. ‘Where are you, Randeep?’ He heard a snapping twig and saw a flash of blue turban. ‘Don’t go in!’ Olan jogged and ducked into the thick undergrowth.

  Through the twisted branches he saw they were nearer to where the men hauled in their nets. How peaceful it looked, Olan thought. They had a good haul of fish too: mackerel. The smoking coals were ready and the racks stood empty. They could do with an extra pair of hands to pull the catch in and the nets probably needed fixing. When he was a boy, Olan had enjoyed weaving the gaps, sitting by the fjord in the shadow of the mountains, and letting his thoughts float and swirl with the fjord tide.

  ‘Stop following me!’ Randeep appeared and shoved Olan in the chest.

  Something about his eyes looked different, Olan thought.

  ‘We can’t go in there.’

  ‘I can,’ Randeep snapped.

  ‘They’ll trap you–’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ Randeep reached into the folds of his cloak, pulled out a silver box and aimed it at Olan.

  Olan dropped to the ground as a red flash lit the air. He screamed as burning heat pummelled and pushed him into the ground. With a surge of energy, he flipped over. Another red flash lit the forest but missed Olan, and smoke billowed around him where dry leaves had caught fire.

  He scrambled away and, when he looked back, Randeep was gone.

  Behind the trunk of a red-leaved oak, Olan said a quick prayer. ‘Valhalla be praised.’ He kissed the hammer on his necklace. ‘Thank you for your protection.’

  He tugged his chest-plate straps to help him breathe, but instead of leather he felt metal.

  ‘Olan?’ A voice called from through the trees and Lavalle appeared. ‘What in God’s name happened?’

  Olan shook his head, still catching his breath. ‘Randeep fired some… weapon at me. He’s gone.’

  ‘What happened to your armour?’ Samas pointed at Olan’s chest. ‘Has it melted?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Olan looked down to see gold dripping down the straps.

  The drips had run across his chest, forming a mesh-like chainmail.

  ‘The chest plate saved you, but,’ Samas paused, ‘now it writhes like a thing possessed.’

  Olan couldn’t hold back the panic. ‘What? Help me get it off!’ He clawed at the straps.

  ‘Lavalle, help me,’ Samas said.

  Lavalle’s hands worked fast but the chest plate was stuck tight. ‘The metal has covered the buckles. It’s stuck.’

  ‘Cut it off!’ Olan shouted.

  Lavalle pulled out his razor-sharp sword and slipped it under a strap but, when it cut into the leather, metal ran down to protect it. ‘It’s no good.’

  Samas had a look. ‘The metal is still spreading. Is it hot?’

  Olan touched the liquid metal, which had covered half his chest. ‘No, it’s cold.’

  ‘A living shield?’ Lavalle shook his head.

  Olan wondered where it would stop.

  Jakan-tar had been standing aloof from the group but watched the expanding chest plate with interest. ‘My people, the Sorean, are renown
ed blacksmiths.’ Jakan-tar looked in the direction of the village. ‘Our armour was abandoned by my soldiers – a bewildering array of shielding and protection, I can assure you. But I have never seen anything like this.’

  Lavalle agreed. ‘It grows but is cold.’ It looked as though a thought came to him. ‘You call yourself an expert?’ Lavalle squinted at Jakan-tar. ‘Yet you wear no armour.’

  ‘You think so?’ Jakan-tar’s mouth wrinkled to reveal pointed teeth. ‘Then try to cut me.’

  Lavalle shook his head. ‘I cannot. It would be–’

  ‘Go on.’

  Lavalle cricked his neck, lifted his longsword and made a half-hearted swipe.

  ‘Attack me, don’t tickle me!’ Jakan-tar shouted at the knight.

  Lavalle huffed and swung again, aiming for the chest. This time a green light flashed across Jakan-tar’s fur where the blade had neared it.

  ‘And again,’ Jakan-tar ordered.

  Lavalle lunged and swiped, aiming for the Sorean’s flank. But this time his sword was parried by a green barrier and Jakan-tar was instantly covered in a full body suit of armour.

  Olan laughed as Lavalle struggled to keep his balance with the rebounding sword. ‘Now that’s impressive!’

  ‘How is it done?’ Samas asked.

  ‘I wear it here.’ Jakan-tar pointed to a red marble pinned to its chest.

  ‘Just that?’ Samas asked. ‘Is it heavy?’

  ‘No, we are masters of this construction. It’s very light.’

  ‘Enough of this. Impressive as it may be,’ Lavalle’s cheeks were flushed, ‘we must find Randeep and save John Greene.’

  ‘Right then.’ Samas shook his head and smiled at Olan.

  The group sauntered back to the undergrowth surrounding the village, past where Randeep’s second shot had set the leaves aflame.