The Forever Man 6 - Dystopian Apocalypse Adventure: Book 6: Rebirth

by Craig Zerf

  In other words, the Ancients used the life force of the Earth to enhance the longevity of their people, the Highmen.

  But, as with all things, there must be balance, life force cannot be created nor destroyed. It is a finite thing. And so the Highmen lived long. But the earth suffered. Its magik was used to enhance the Highmen’s lives, and in return the Highmen gave nothing back, living a parasitical existence as they leached the life from their host.

  This bridge between the Archeus and the Highmen was not an easy thing to create and the constructs demands were high. In fact it demanded nothing less than the very life of the beings that created it. And thus the Ancients sacrificed themselves for the better of the all, giving their essence to form the bridge between the astral and the earthly planes.

  And the Forever Stone was the anchor that held that bridge in place. As such the stone was considered to be sacrosanct and, even in times of war, no faction would ever dream of removing it from the chamber, for fear of sundering the bridge and thereby cutting the flow of earth energy to the Highmen and their contrived longevity.

  ‘Sedition,’ said Grah Alou. ‘Gross rebellion. Traitorism and betrayal. Not only have the humans started to rebel, I have it on good authority that one of the leaders of this perfidy is none other than Captain Ethan Thomas, eldest son of the Thomas family and the latest in a line of airship captains of the realm. He is using the airship Lostvega Leviathan to wreak havoc, first on a legitimate Scouring column and then on a relief column. Not only that, he has attacked and demolished two of our chem-factories, as well as destroying the battleship Empire States out of Newyork, along with another three cruisers.’

  The rest of the Highmen already knew of these happenings but, as chairman of the sitting and caretaker of the Forever Stone, it was Alou’s responsibility to lay out all of the reasons that the meeting had been called.

  After he had spoken the Highmen leaders showed their surprise and anger in the accepted way as they sucked in air and expelled it via pursed lips, emitting a low whistling sound, akin to blowing across the top of an empty beer bottle.

  ‘There is more,’ said Highman Dolarc Win, chief of the citadel of Seatle. ‘My scouts have brought me news of groups of humans spreading dissention amongst the towns and villages in the badlands. They are encouraging rebellion and uprising. They say that now is the time of the human and they claim to be lead by one called the Eternal Man.’

  ‘The Eternal Man?’ Questioned Alou. ‘Why?’

  ‘They say that he cannot die,’ answered Win.

  ‘Is he a Highman?’ Continued Alou.

  ‘Apparently not. They say that he was shot three times by assassins and not only did he survive, he killed all three.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘A few days before the first attack against the Scouring column.’

  Highman Alou took in a deep breath. ‘I know this man,’ he said. ‘In fact, I have met him.’

  ‘Well why didn’t you kill him?’ Asked Sethan Roge, Highman chief of Newyork.

  ‘He was a nobody,’ answered Alou. ‘Well, perhaps not a nobody. He had shown great bravery in Cutter’s Pass during a battle, so I actually offered him a job. I made him a Hammerman.’

  ‘I have heard of him,’ said Roge. ‘The hero of Cutter’s Pass. He killed over one hundred mutants with his bare hands.’

  Alou shook his head. ‘No, less than fifty. And he had an axe.’

  ‘Even a man who could kill ten mutants in hand to hand combat is an impressive being. I can see why the humans follow him.’

  Again Alou shook his head. ‘No, it is more than his mere physical prowess. He has power. A great power within him.’

  ‘Yet you still let him live,’ accused Roge.

  ‘No, actually I sent three assassins after him but, as you all now know, they failed.’

  ‘The board has been set,’ interjected Highman Dolarc Win. ‘Let us not squabble over who set which piece where, instead let us decide how to move the pieces to our advantage.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Alou. ‘We must strike back and strike hard. I recommend that we call the Highmen to arms. We must also arrest and publicly chastise the Thomas family. We must punish anyone caught spreading sedition and, finally, we must scramble the entire fleet and hunt down the Lostvega Leviathan.’

  ‘You speak casually about doing something that has not happened for centuries,’ said Roge. ‘The Highmen have not been called to battle for many years. The wars are over. It may behoove us to wait and see what happens. This may burn itself out. Perhaps we should simply arrest any dissenters and wait.’

  ‘No,’ disagreed Alou. ‘The wars were over. But a new war has been birthed and, unless we kill it now, before it grows, we will end up wishing that we had.’

  ‘I say that we put it to the vote,’ suggested Roge.

  ‘So be it,’ agreed Alou. ‘Highmen,’ he continued. ‘All those in favor of a swift and deadly response?’

  One by one the Highmen held their right fists to their chests and nodded once.

  ‘As we have voted so shall it be,’ said Roge as he put his fist to his chest. ‘I will go with the majority. Let us do it.’

  ‘In unity is strength,’ said Alou.

  ‘In unity is strength,’ repeated the committee.

  Chapter 39

  The Leviathan had taken more damage than Ethan had at first thought. Not so much from the mallet gun strikes but more so from the massive strain that had been imparted to the structure and the engines and boilers.

  The port side engine had been stripped and the bearing replaced. The main boiler had needed metal-stitching to a small rupture and many of the steel struts that supported the envelope had to be straightened and, in some cases, welded with reinforcements.

  The captain’s expected one day of servicing and a little light Rest & Recuperation had turned into a frantic week of Repair & Refurbishment.

  And during that whole time, Nathaniel either stood on the top of the envelope or slept in his small cabin. From sun up until well into the night he simply stood, feet slightly apart, hands by his sides and eyes closed. Brett took him food and water on a regular basis but whenever she brought a new batch she noted that he had drunk the water but the food stood untouched. Leon had tried to speak to him but The Forever Man had simply put his finger up to his lips and shaken his head. After that no one disturbed him.

  Day after day the marine stood in a trance-like state as he slowly spread his mental net out over the land. Attempting to find a source of power, however small, so that he could generate some real magik.

  Each day he pushed out further and further. He felt the tainted, flickering auras of the Untouchables and the dull auras of the small game that lived in the interior. He felt the vivid presence of the Dreamlanders and also the myriad of life impressions of the humans that lived in the towns and villages and citadels, their auras dancing with light and color, vacillating like the very pulse-lights that painted the heavens.

  And shining amongst them he could discern the blue-white auras of the Highmen. They burned bright and steady, unnaturally so. Like their life-force was a flame. A fire that was being constantly fed in order to burn so bright and clear.

  He then knew why the earth was so bereft of power. Why it was as dead and used up as an old water-skin. Somehow, the Highmen were robbing the very Earth of its Vital Force.

  So he spread his net further and concentrated. He needed to find how they were doing it. His seeker-sight pulled him towards the west and he let it flow, concentrating on any sources of power. Any obvious conduits.

  He found it. A diamond blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat as it drew the life-force from the earth around it, dragging it from the depleted layers of dry topsoil down through the intervening layers until it hit the bedrock. Stripping and imprisoning the Anima Mundi, otherwise known as The Soul of the World, and then linking the Archeus to the essence of the Highmen. Bridging the densest aspect of the astral plane that presided over the gr
owth and continuation of all living beings. Leaching that very power from the continental landmass that made up what used to be known as the United States of America.

  ‘Sanfrisco,’ he whispered to himself. He tried to connect with the object but it was shielded from interference in some way and his net simply slid over it, like oiled glass. He pulled back slightly, seeking to get a closer idea as to where it was. He saw a room, dark, windowless. A corridor. A large building. And he smiled. ‘Been there,’ he said to himself. ‘It’s the head Highman’s residence.’

  Satisfied that he had done as much as he could at such a distance, he turned his effort to another task, concentrating on the image of Captain Tobias of the Gwendolyn. He thought of his voice, his expressions, the nuances of his speech, his pipe.

  And then he allowed his power to roam, giving it free rein. Within minutes he felt that he was in the presence of the captain. He put in a little more effort and, like a blurred film image coming slowly into focus, he could see. The captain was standing alone on the topdeck of his Landship, smoking his pipe and looking out over the open land around the town of Lincoln Vale.

  ‘Tobias.’

  The captain jumped and his pipe dropped to the floor as he whipped his head around.

  ‘Who the hell is that?’

  ‘It’s me, Nathaniel.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m in your head.’

  Tobias dropped to his knees. ‘Oh gods forbid,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve been possessed.’

  ‘Stop being so dramatic, my friend,’ quipped Nathaniel. ‘I’m far-speaking you. It’s just a parlour trick, nothing to be afraid of. I would have done it sooner but it took me a few days to get it right.’

  Tobias stood up, grabbing his pipe off the deck as he did. ‘So I’m not going mental then?’

  ‘No. Well, maybe,’ added the marine. ‘But that’s got nothing to do with my far-speaking you.’

  Tobias laughed. ‘So then, how goes it, Eternal Man?’

  ‘To be honest, it’s overwhelming. We got into a bit of an altercation with a few airships though we ended up getting the best of it. Now we’re sorting out some problems with the ship and then it’s back into the attack, I suppose. What about your side of things?’

  Tobias sighed. ‘Well, plus side, no one has attacked us yet, but I’m pretty sure that’s only a matter of time. As regards the volunteers that we sent out to spread the word of the revolution – not so good. Two of the cells have been picked up and are scheduled for public execution in three days time in the citadel of Lostvega. And as for the rest, they’re running an uphill race. People fear change. Actually, people seem to fear everything. Also, the Highmen have figured out what’s happening and they’re coming down real hard on any form of dissent, real or imagined. Is Ethan with you?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Bad news, I’m afraid,’ continued Tobias. ‘The Highmen have arrested his family as traitors. They’re going to be publicly executed along with the other dissenters in Lostvega, three days hence at sunrise. They’re making a real public thing of it. Posted flyers everywhere, got criers proclaiming in the streets. It’s like they want the whole world to know.’

  ‘They do,’ agreed the marine. ‘It’s bait for a trap. They obviously assume that we’ll use the Leviathan to attempt a rescue and, odds on; the entire Highman fleet will be waiting for us.’

  ‘It’s not a bad assumption,’ admitted Tobias. ‘If it were my family I would be sore tempted to rescue them.’

  ‘True,’ conceded Nathaniel. ‘I’ll have a chat to Ethan. See if we can put together some sort of plan without putting the movement in jeopardy. Anything else?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ answered Tobias. ‘I don’t want to be “that guy”, you know, the negative Nancy type, but there’s more. Our scouts tell me that the Highmen are mobilising their armies. And I mean all of them. Battle wagons and weapons are being taken out of storage and degreased. The fleet is being brought up to battle stations, the Highmen themselves are girding for battle.’

  ‘No big surprise there,’ observed Nathaniel. ‘After all, they do have a threat to put down.’

  ‘Oh well,’ sighed Tobias. ‘You carry on. We’ll be fine. Or we won’t. We’ll win, or we won’t. You just keep doing what you do and hopefully we’ll meet again soon and have a drink or ten.’

  Nathaniel laughed. ‘Soon, my friend.’ And he broke the contact.

  Chapter 40

  Tobias was shaken awake by one of the sentries and he was immediately alert. He climbed off his cot, fully dressed except for his boots that he pulled on straight away.

  ‘Captain, they’re coming. A single ship. From the west. Five miles or so.’

  Tobias ran up the stairs onto the topdeck and looked westward. He didn’t need his farlookers. The sentry was correct. A single cruiser class airship approaching from the west. Four to five miles away, its superstructure glowed orange in the rising sun.

  The cruiser boasted a single for’ard mounted steam harpoon and eight mallet guns, one for’ard, one astern and three on each side. More than enough firepower to reduce the town to splinters. But it was the single steam harpoon that was the biggest problem. The mallet guns had no more range than the town’s guns, although the ship possessed more of them than the town did. It was the steam harpoon that would be the deciding factor.

  The one major thing in Tobias’ favor was that the cruiser did not know that the town of Lincoln Vale also had a steam harpoon, primed and ready. However, whereas it is a relatively simple task to fire accurately at a large, static area like a town, it is very difficult to accurately engage an airship that is moving at over seventy miles an hour.

  ‘Sound the alarm,’ he shouted.

  The bugler started to blow the alarm and, a few seconds later, the town bells added their ringing to the warning. Townspeople started to spill out of the buildings and run to man the walls. Mallet stokers piled coal into their boilers, building up a head of steam for the mallet guns. All weapons were trained on the approaching airship as the seconds melted away.

  Tobias had planned for this moment and now, all that he could do was hope that his plan worked.

  ‘Four minutes,’ he muttered. ‘They’ll open fire with the steam harpoon in four minutes.’

  The population of Lincoln Vale watched and waited as the sword of Damocles sliced slivers of time off the waiting moments as the airship grew closer. At almost exactly the four minute mark, a gout of steam erupted from the bow of the ship and the blur of the supersonic missile could be seen streaking towards them.

  Six feet of hardened steel screamed over the wall and impacted on a building in the center of the town with a crashing roar, reducing it to a mere pile of splinters.

  Then the airship was in mallet gun range. The town’s guns opened up at the same time as the cruisers, exchanging hundreds of pounds of lead shot in a rampant display of destruction.

  The next harpoon struck the town gates, tearing them from their hinges and blowing them asunder. Men and women screamed and bled and died.

  Mayor Griffin came sprinting up the gangway and onto the Gwendolyn’s topdeck.

  ‘For the love of God, Tobias,’ he screamed. ‘Give the order for the harpoon gun to return fire.’

  Tobias shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Are you insane, man?’ Shouted the mayor. ‘They’ll destroy us unless we fire back.’

  As if to reinforce his statement, another harpoon hammered through the town wall, shattering the palisade and careening into the next building, all but leveling it to the ground.

  Tobias grabbed Griffin by the shirt. ‘Not yet, mayor,’ he growled. ‘We’ll have one shot, maybe two if we are lucky and then the airship will take out our steam harpoon. They can move, we can’t. Once we are exposed, we’re sitting ducks. So, I repeat, not yet.’

  ‘I hope that you know what you’re doing, captain,’ said the mayor. ‘For all of our sakes.’

  ‘I do or I don’t,’ answered Tob
ias. ‘I do or I don’t.’

  The next harpoon streaked through the air next to the Gwendolyn and disintegrated the town hall behind them. The passage of the missile had been so close that the Landship actually rocked to one side due to the massive disruption of air.

  The cruiser hung in the sky, just over four hundred yards away, bearing North West by West. Approximately three hundred feet above the ground and situated about one hundred yards from a small copse of scrubby thorn trees that circled a low scree-covered hill.

  A small hill that Tobias and a team of laborers had visited some five days ago. Five days ago when they had moved the steam harpoon from the town walls and placed it on the hill and covered it with camouflage netting and earth and snow.

  The captain turned to his signaler. ‘Raise the flag.’

  The signaler raised a red flag, pulling swiftly on the halyard until the flag fluttered boldly at the top of the pole.

  Tobias raised his farlookers to his eyes and watched the camouflage netting get pulled back from the gun emplacement. He saw the barrel raise upwards as it aimed, almost point blank, at the bottom of the cruiser’s gondola.

  Steam blossomed.

  Steel flew.

  The deck of the gondola exploded upwards, shredding the men and crew of the airship as it turned all into vicious shards of shrapnel. Then the hyper velocity missile continued upwards, cannoning through the top of the bridge and entering the envelope, renting a massive hole through which poured hundreds of pounds of flammable hydrogen. The next thing to get struck was the boiler, sending gouts of flames through the ruptured envelope.

  The explosion rippled from the center of the airship out towards the ends. A billowing mass of red and black flame that incinerated all in its path. Men jumped, screaming, from the blazing ship, their hair and clothes alight as they fell. The devil’s fireworks. Flares of death.