by Clive Ousley
Nardin skipped a couple more pages.
Mission 378 Acid-destroyer- plus.
Could this be our last chance, they’re all around the base, only the auto artillery keeping them at bay. Fuel for only one more mission, if we find the head bastard perhaps they’ll lose co-ordination.
SD40 hit Smithson. Good man, evil luck. Mission result inconclusive.
Nardin skipped a page of the same style of entries and came to a long passage in the same hand, but hesitant and shaky. He blinked, his eyes were hurting already.
June 30th 2046
Lost comms with central command: must have been overrun. We’re going to break out tonight. Destroyed the last of the F26’s – No munitions, no fuel, no mission info.
Just heard Washington is swamped by quarter-men and no transmissions coming from Los Angeles, or Frisco.
God help America.
July 6th 2046
We’re told nukes only partially work; apparently they tried them on the Big Apple. The kill zone gets them; but further out the radiation just seems to breed more and they pour invigorated from deep rents in the ground.
July 11th
We had a locator transmitter with us and an AH64 Apache picked us up. Never been so pleased to see a chopper in my life! Apparently we’re having success with a new acid projectile. Someone’s distilled a super concentrated corrosive acid and contained it in new hardened plastic cases ideal for handheld auto weapons. Rumours say there is a new genetic pathogen bomb being tested. They say it locks onto their DNA and they die quickly.
General-commander Jadde is fighting back. She’s flying the last F26 all the time and appearing everywhere, spurring on the troops.
I’m to be her escort in our only modified F28. It’s time for payback.
Passionately Nardin read all the entries that included General-commander Jadde in the wording.
July 30th 2046
The Tn24DNA pathogen bombs and artillery shells are working. Jadde is our country’s savour, she personally flew the last remaining cargo bird to pick up the first consignment from the boffins at Second-chance Experimental Station.
August 10th 2046
Searching out and targeted more nests. Dropped all Tn24DNA. Complete quarter-men kill – for sure. General-commander Jadde has personally ensured the research results were broadcast world-wide. No response from Europe, China, Brazil and India but initial results from Australia are hopeful.
God bless America.
The Goddess’s title lodged in Nardin’s mind; was it another ancient person taking her name and adding a strange title? ‘’General-commander Jadde was victorious, the quarter-men defeated . . .’’ He leafed through the pages again, there was a lot more but it was an account of survival after the victory, and dealt in detail about how the survivors gathered and formed a community in two mountain resorts.
Could one have been Cyprusnia, but where was the second?
His eyes blurred and he looked away as Rose appeared.
He would have to read more back in the library.
‘Nardin, you’re up early.’ Rose floated over, sleepy eyed and curious. ‘What have you there?’ she inquired.
‘Just a book. A very strange one.’
He slipped it into his habit pocket. It was time for something to eat and then to continue in the priest’s library. His familiar surroundings blurred, he had to rest his eyes.
Later that morning he had the diary open as he sat in one of the hard plastic chairs in the library. He had the strange passage open in the account, and squinted, willing his eyes to focus as he reread unbelievable words. It involved the death of General-commander Jadde thirty one years after the war account.
It was the end of his belief in Jadde as a Goddess.
Jadde was only human. Although possibly the greatest person who had ever lived. Despite his sudden atheistic transition he read on, fascinated by the power of her will.
General-commander Jadde’s organisational powers and sheer dominating authority have pulled the survivors together, and they have at last prospered. She has saved a war-bird, useless without parts and fuel (how I wish I could again fly it). I have noticed how the younger people with no living memory of the struggle look at the dead bird in awe.
Nardin flicked through more praise.
It is the tenth anniversary of her death. My friends and followers decided to haul the war-bird up the mountain slopes. We stood it near a mountain tarn as a memorial to our saviour.
He read on, summarising to himself. Morris-Tailt stated the defunct war-bird was also placed as a warning designed to remind people of what happened when foolhardy arrogance created the quarter-men. What a Tarn was, Nardin had no idea. He thought it a place of worship but could not be sure. Her body had been laid to rest in the tarn with great ceremony. He imagined a huge ornate tomb on a mountain summit guarded by a large sculptured bird. The tarn was where she had spent her last days; the mountain views had given her great peace as she reflected on her life’s work.
Nardin quickly browsed the following pages where Morris-Tailt concentrated on praising Jadde’s accomplishments. There were breaks in the accounts where the writer skipped months, then years. The hand slowly became shaky as Morris-Tailt aged beneath Nardin’s questing eyes. Nardin’s vision blurred again and he blinked; then shook his head. There was an abrupt break here. He read the last line again.
Before her death Governess Jadde had set up a foundation for a new beginning and new skills, the old people never . . .
Nardin tried to focus and for a moment the page became clear and he held the book close to his nose. Pages had been ripped out. He read on after the break.
. . . Jadde’s people have now occupied both villages, the old complex and the higher accommodation blocks that were once a health spa called Highnirvana. The higher village is dedicated to learning about the power of the mind through meditation. The old research complex accommodation is now a thriving farming and hunting community where food is caught and grown for both townships. Because Governess Jadde had a special interest in meditation and developing powers of the mind, people have flocked to the higher community hoping to emulate her. Inspired by her lead, disciples have achieved mind disciplines of erratic power. Only the most talented are selected, the others return to the lower community. Jadde would have been deeply proud of them all.
Nardin realised his Cyprusnia was the farming and hunting community. The other must be situated much higher in the mountains at a place named by Jadde as Highnirvana.
Morris-Tailt had concluded his account with his own epitaph.
And now twenty two years after our saviour Jadde’s death I have bowel cancer and just the strength left to complete this journal. I commit this true account of our saviour Jadde to our ancestors to hold for all time as a warning against the blight of unregulated research and unregistered genetic experiments. I sincerely hope with all my heart the mutants never re-emerge to ruin the proper order of our lives. Let this account be a lesson, and at the same time a story of great courage and devotion to the human race.
I bid you farewell and good luck
Lieutenant Edward Morris-Tailt
And beneath the farewell another hand had written in a more hesitant style.
To whom it may concern.
If you are searching this repository of records for a resolution to the quarter-men plague that again places Jadde’s peoples in jeopardy, then search ‘Theology’ and read the books Divine Justice and Ethics for a Morale Life. There you will learn whether you have a real need to rediscover Jadde’s weapon. If you have no other choice, I beg you not to use the weapons lightly, for they are capable of destroying an entire race. If you decide the quarter-men are STILL inherently evil then you will find clues to take you to the solution of your problem.
Kristopher Falconfeather
Nardin’s vision swam and he blinked to refocus. It was a monumental document. If the priesthood realised it existed they would confiscate it and possibly even kil
l him. Sire Steth could be trusted but what of the Abbot and the Brenna? Were the rumours of approaching evil actually the return of the quarter-men? He feared that was the case.
Nardin’s eyes remained blurred and for the first time he feared he had done them irreparable damage. He prepared to inform Steth of his discovery. As an afterthought he hid the diary inside one of the defunct computers as a bargaining point should the priesthood turn on him with his discovery.
The room remained blurred and he groped his way to the light switch. The door burst open sending him spinning onto the cold tiled floor.
‘Assistant did you not notice me open the door?’ Steth’s voice asked in concern.
Nardin rose on an elbow and stammered, ‘my eyes . . . I can’t see . . . too much reading . . . lights too bright.’
‘Let’s get you up to a comfy chair; a bowl of cherry cordial will revive you. Then we have an urgent development to attend.’
‘I have a discovery to report Sire.’
‘Concentrate on recovery first my assistant.’
Nardin managed to grope his way up the narrow winding stairs as Steth closed the library door and followed him. The dark stairs soothed his vision and a little focus returned.
A draft of the sweet cherry drink revived him as he nursed a bruised elbow. Steth sat opposite him in his padded chair in the scriptorium, when he thought Nardin sufficiently recovered he carried on.
‘Whatever you have discovered it must wait. I have both good and further alarming news.’
‘Of Cabryce?’
‘No, of Malkrin – he has returned to the border.’
Relief washed Nardin – his friend was alive. And then he realised Malkrin needed to know what he had discovered: urgently.
‘Malkrin has a band of strange people with him and a caged devil. The Brenna have been alerted and Erich Gamlyn rides with a troop to confront him.’
Nardin tried to focus on his mentor and failed.
Steth stood and grabbed a cloak. ‘We must go there, to prevent any bloodshed. Come Assistant, there is no time to lose.’
CHAPTER TWENTYTWO
The journey had taken its toll on them all, including the demon. The day after Malkrin’s and Bone-thrower’s detour the creature had sickened and refused every rabbit, pigeon or snake they killed for it. They even tried a haunch of wild pig they had cooked for themselves, but to no avail. Then two days ago as they’d passed the scattered bones of the wild cat outside Hunters Cave, the demon had died. At first they thought it sleeping and had prodded it with the butt of a spear, to no avail. Malkrin had put his hand between the bars and touched its cold flesh and lifted an eyelid. The eye was unmoving; the creature had left this world.
‘We must continue on with the carcass my friends; for it is the only proof we have of the evil that threatens to engulf us.’
It was a bad omen, but Malkrin tried to be practical by pointing out that demons were after all susceptible to illness like they all were.
The Wolf Tribe’s ritual journey had kept the track clear of landslides and debris, so hauling the cart was not too arduous for the fit warriors. Two days after passing the cave they spotted the distant ribbon of the stockade across the Darent Pass and stopped to wash the journeys grime from clothes and skin. Malkrin decided they needed to look refreshed, confident and powerful to persuade the border guards they were not just a band of thieves.
It had gone midday when they hauled the cart to within hailing distance of the barricade. By now the demon was beginning to decompose. The stink made Malkrin gag as he prepared to hail the guards astride the fortification. He strode a few paces in front of his men, being careful to keep his arms open before him.
‘Good men of the Seconchane do you recognise my face?’
Silence greeted him from the faces on the ramparts.
‘I have returned to save you from a deadly danger. I must speak to the officer in charge.’
Still no one atop the barricade wall moved but from somewhere a warning arrow bounced from a nearby rock. Malkrin had expected to be ignored so it was slightly encouraging; at least he had someone’s attention.
‘I must speak to an officer. I mean you no harm I just wish to save you, your wives and children from a ghastly death. There is a horde of demon creatures approaching and I cannot keep them at bay with my few companions.’
Two figures stirred on the battlements and another whose tunic incorporated a purple sash of rank appeared.
‘Outcast, you dare to return with a bunch of bandits and a ridiculous excuse. How do I know there is any truth in your words?’
‘I bring you a dead demon for you to inspect.’
‘We have nothing to fear from dead demons.’
‘It is one of the fearful creatures that the Goddess Jadde fought and destroyed.’ Malkrin then shouted as loud as he could, ‘and they have returned in hordes beyond count to slaughter us all.’
‘I need proof that your words are true before I summon my commanding officer.’
‘Will this suffice?’ Malkrin swept his cloak to one side and revealed two of the gold suns emblazoned on his tunic.
‘You have forged the sun symbols or stolen them.’
‘How could I steal them when I am outside Cyprusnia? Rest assured my power has increased fourfold and I have a companion with me who has a similar ability. Would you prefer a demonstration of his powers?’
‘Go ahead if you must,’ the officer sneered disbelievingly.
‘Bear in mind he has a single highsense decoration,’ Malkrin primed them.
Palreth casually strode in full view of the stockade and raised an arm. Malkrin’s third sun glinted on his chest. He threw a sparkling blue fireball into a fir tree alongside the track. The tree burst into flames and vicious blue lightening discharging into the air and ground around it. A fearsome smell of smouldering wood and sharp acrid smoke assailed the officer’s nostrils.
‘Impressive demonstration, Outcast, I will summon the Brenna. I hope for your sake you can prove what you say. Of course they may decide to finish you for good.’
‘This is not the time for man to fight man but never the less, a wise decision officer of the Seconchane. Tell your superiors that hordes of demons are heading this way and each is more ferocious than any wild animal they have ever hunted.’
‘Stay where we can see you all. It will be several hourglasses before my commander gets here.’
‘I or my companions will not move, our errand is too desperate to leave unanswered.’
The officer and another man vanished from view so after a few minutes Malkrin ordered his comrades set a camp fire and prepare for a long wait. They caught another wild pig and stuffed it with oat meal and then roasted it on the campfire. Much later as the sun began its slide toward the mountains they were drinking from their water containers and discussing Brightwater’s chances of resisting the quarter-men when the Wolf lookout shouted a warning. Malkrin stood and gazed at the palisade, the gates in the wall had creaked open and as he watched a troop of horse mounted Brenna emerged. Stones and dust flew around a blur of hooves and the thunder of charging horses filled the air. Some of Malkrin’s band raised weapons nervously, others looked about to run.
‘Stay calm everybody, we must trust them or we’ll get nowhere,’ ordered Malkrin. The horsemen reined in their mounts and quickly surrounded Malkrin and his companions. Palreth, Mondroth of the Celembrie and Talgour had never seen horses and looked fearfully at the strange sight of men riding tamed beasts.
‘A mighty weapon,’ Mondroth said in awe.
Malkrin looked closely at the horsemen. All were Brenna as he had expected. They were led by Erich Gamlyn. Malkrin’s heart sank as he saw who represented the priesthood amongst the horsemen; it was Sire Helm Rantiss who glared as if he was meeting quarter-men and not Malkrin’s brave band.
‘You have news, Outcast?’ snapped Gamlyn.
Malkrin stood in front of the Brenna Ruler who had in some way disposed of Cabryce. Malkrin’s
thoughts seethed, revenge boiled in his heart, but his mind said, not now. It was best to pretend ignorance of her fate. Malkrin kept his voice steady, ‘I bring the worst possible news . . .’ He paused, his thoughts filled with images of drawing Palerin across Gamlyn’s throat. ‘. . . I have tidings of an imminent catastrophe for the whole of the Seconchane.’
‘Really. I am told that caged carcass is proof of this tale.’
’We have brought this demon with us. It is of the same tribe that the Goddess Jadde was victorious over. Its brethren have returned and are consuming all the lands and people in their path.’
‘So on the basis of a dead creature, you expect me to believe this wild tale?’
‘I have these reinstated highsense stars, they show I am still well respected amongst the peoples I have met and lived with.’
‘People?’ he turned his head and laughed to Helm Rantiss, who then echoed the mocking laughter. ‘You mean more examples of this motley band.’ Gamlyn gestured to Malkrin’s companions.
‘I am an authorised representative of my people’s Senate,’ protested Talgour.
‘And I of mine,’ added BalthWolf.
Gamlyn laughed and sneered, ‘you, a Wolf bandit – an authorised member of a band of hoodlums more like. Why should I take your word as well as the outcasts?’
Gamlyn reined his horse round, and over his shoulder shouted. ‘Be gone, before I order my men to send you to Jadde.’
‘I have proof that Olaff, novice of the priesthood lives in this man,’ Malkrin shouted. ‘He died trying to reach me for reasons I know not, but the priests do.’
Gamlyn turned his horse again; back toward him. Malkrin’s highsense detected a sudden curiosity; he had latched onto Malkrin’s implication of priestly involvement. He had said the right thing, the priests had a lot more influence on the Brenna than he, Malkrin, had previously realised. ‘Olaff was the possessor of a great highsense that would have been of great use in defending the Seconchane. But as he lay dying after fighting demons, he transferred his highsense in a method I can only envy, to this man.’ Malkrin pointed, ‘to Palreth of the Sylve, a great warrior and now possessor of the greatest highsense. I offer his abilities to the Seconchane’s defence when it becomes necessary – in return for your help to defeat the demons.’