Fractured Earth Saga 1: Apocalypse Orphan

by Tim Allen

  “You foul-mouthed bastard! How dare you insult her so?” Wolf shouted, jumping at Sylvaine. Suddenly, the box Sylvaine had placed on the ground made a humming noise. The sound grew louder and Wolf dropped his sword, holding his ears in pain.

  Sylvaine walked up to Wolf as he fell to his knees. With a cruel laugh, he declared, “My master was right. You can be hurt.” He kicked Wolf’s battle ax out of reach and placed a heavy boot on his shoulder, forcing him over onto his back.

  “Commander, are you all right? My sensors show you’re in distress,” Syn yelled.

  “Syn, help me,” Wolf croaked weakly.

  “Wolf!” Syn screamed in a panicked voice.

  “Syn, what’s wrong?” Nala demanded, appearing in the doorway with a frightened look.

  “Wolf is in trouble. His vital signs are weak. But don’t worry, Nala, I am about to show you Wolf’s boat.” The ship rose and the tent disappeared as Syn lifted off and navigated out to the battlefield. Only Reon saw the tent vanish, and to his young mind, it was just magic.

  “Wolf is in trouble? What could hurt him?” Nala shouted, terrified by Syn’s demeanor. Then, her face paled and she asked, “Jesu, are we flying?”

  “Jonar has discovered Wolf’s weakness. He is trying to use it to kill him. Yes, we are airborne.”

  Nala’s shock was short-lived as her concern went back to Wolf. She thought of him dying and yelled, “No! This can’t be. We must help him!”

  “I am losing power!” Syn hissed. “It’s another jamming signal. This one is disrupting my circuitry and scrambling the ship's electronics. The frequency is rotating, and I can’t isolate it. If I go any closer, we will lose power and crash. Damn it, I can’t even get a weapon lock.” With tears in her eyes, Syn whispered hoarsely, “I can’t help him, Nala.”

  “How close can you get? Can you put us on the ground?”

  “I can get about thirty-five feet above the signal. It is too far to jump, Nala.” Then, Syn had an idea and added, “Wait…I can lower you with the robotic arm.”

  Syn split in two—Tomb Raider Syn navigated the ship while Nurse Syn grabbed Nala’s arm and headed for the bay. She took a harness off the wall and wrapped it around Nala, saying, “Pull this lever like this to detach the rope.” Syn demonstrated the release mechanism. “When you are close to Wolf, detach it.”

  Nala was wringing her hands and seemed to be far away. Syn grabbed her shoulders and warned, “Nala, don't detach until you are seven feet or less from the ground. If you detach too soon, you could break your legs.”

  “I will wait until I am close. Take me to Wolf.”

  Picking up an ear bud from a nearby table, Syn showed it to Nala and said, “I need to put this in your ear. It will allow us to talk to one another.” Nala nodded, and Syn pressed the tiny device onto the triangular fossa of Nala's right ear, applying momentary pressure.

  “Can you hear me?” Syn asked, and Nala nodded in amazement.

  “Good luck, Nala. Please save Wolf,” Syn whispered. She engaged the mechanical arm, pulling Nala from the ship, and dangled her over the battlefield.

  * * *

  Sylvaine flashed a triumphant smile and his eyes roamed across the battlefield looking for Waylan. The old king was surrounded by ruffians and would have his hands full for some time. Sylvaine raised his visor and spat in Wolf’s face. “So, clown, how does it feel to be in pain? Does it hurt? Here, let me help you,” Sylvaine taunted, swinging his sword and hitting Wolf in the head with it. A small trickle of blood ran from a paper-thin gash.

  “Ah! My master’s magic makes you human!” Sylvaine smirked with delight. He struck at Wolf’s neck, and another thin, bleeding laceration appeared. “You ass in a lion's skin, I told you I would kill you. We know your secret.” He pulled a long, thin dagger out of his belt. Wolf was lying on his back, holding his ears in pain. Sylvaine placed the knife on Wolf’s chest above his heart and said, “My master sends his regards.” He pushed down, twisting the dagger. The tip of the weapon started a pinprick of blood as he leaned his full weight on it. The blade sank a little deeper into Wolf’s chest as Sylvaine rocked it back and forth. Wolf gritted his teeth in pain and began singing the Hopi death chant.

  “Noooooooo!” Syn screamed as she translated the song.

  Sylvaine was jubilant as he saw the trickle of blood flow from the wound, and then the knife sank another eighth of an inch deeper. He hit bone, but twisted the blade around, looking for a way into Wolf’s chest. The knife penetrated deeper, and Sylvaine leered as he said, “Now, you die, buffoon!”

  Suddenly, Sylvaine grunted in pain as he was thrown several feet into the air and away from Wolf’s body.

  “Keep your filthy hands off my man!” Nala screamed. She leaned on her left foot, poised for battle. Her right ankle was visibly dislocated. As Syn had feared, Nala had detached from the harness early, dropping fifteen feet to the ground.

  Sylvaine climbed to his feet and glared at Nala with contempt. “So, the Nanna slut has arrived. You’re the one Haakon cursed before he died.”

  “You lie! Haakon is not dead.”

  “He is dead, bitch, because I killed him. I took the items he stole and delivered them to my master. He died like the weak dog he was, but he saved his last breath to curse you, whore.”

  Sylvaine ran at Nala, laughing and swinging his sword. She jumped to the side, trying to balance on her left foot, and grimaced in pain from the movements of her dislocated right foot. Sylvaine signaled to a knot of ruffians and they converged on her, driving her back from Wolf’s body, although the attack left three ruffians dead.

  Sylvaine approached Wolf, who was now unconscious, and kicked him in the face. Then, he dropped to a knee and placed the tip of his dagger in Wolf’s right eye. With a wicked laugh, Sylvaine glared at Nala and hissed, “Say goodbye to him, bitch.”

  Time ran in slow motion for Nala as she watched Sylvaine place his dagger in Wolf’s eye. She took a step forward but lost her footing and fell. A swarm of ruffians toppled her and pinned her down on the ground, laughing, punching, grabbing her breasts, and tearing at her clothes. She struggled ferociously but could not fight them off. One man drew his dagger and slashed her across the chest, just above her breasts. He laughed and cut another deep gash above the first, slowly working his way up to her throat. Nala fought wildly, but her eyes weren't on the blade the ruffian held to her throat. Her gaze was on Sylvaine as he taunted her, moving his dagger back and forth from Wolf's right eye to his left as she watched helplessly. It felt like an eternity passed as she closed her eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry, Syn. I couldn’t save him.”

  A horn blast sounded from the battlements. Sylvaine hesitated and looked up to see the castle gates opening and another wave of Old Guard fighters pouring out onto the field. Severed heads and arms flew in all directions as the old men swarmed forward. The ruffians holding down Nala disappeared in sprays of blood as Waylan finally reached her. He smashed one man’s face with the pommel of his sword and swung backhanded, cutting off the head off another. Drawing his poniard, he stabbed a third ruffian in the back and then knelt, grabbing the one who had Nala pinned. With a mighty twist, he broke the man’s neck. Nala scrambled to her feet, bloody but still ready to fight. She fought at Waylan’s side as he battled to reach Wolf.

  Sylvaine held his ground, sheathing his dagger, and he stood with his sword drawn, the point on the ground. He had gloated over his victory, and it had cost him his chance to slay the outsider. “So Waylan, we meet at last,” he sneered as the king confronted him.

  “Yes. I have come to kill you. Now get away from that man.”

  “This man?” asked Sylvaine, kicking Wolf in the face. “I think not. He dies here, now.”

  Waylan advanced, swinging his sword in a figure-eight pattern, and Sylvaine barely got his sword up in time to deflect. As the two men battled, Nala limped to Wolf’s side. Several ruffians came to defend Sylvaine, but Waylan hacked and slashed until only the silver knight remained. />
  “Syn, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, Nala…just barely. The jamming device that prevents me from landing isn’t disrupting communications. How is Wolf?”

  “He has several wounds. One is deep in his chest, above his heart. He’s bleeding, Syn!”

  “Is he breathing, Nala?”

  “I think he’s dead,” Nala sobbed.

  Syn’s circuits heated up and the sky above the plain rumbled from the ship’s engines accelerating to full power. Many of the combatants on the field stopped and gazed up at the sky in wonder at the loud, rumbling noise.

  “Is he breathing, Nala? Put your ear on his chest.”

  “Yes, he’s breathing, but he won’t wake up. Wolf, my love, come back to us! Please come back to us,” Nala cried.

  “Get a hold of yourself, Nala! Something is affecting Wolf. Look around for anything unusual or out of place…something close to him.”

  Nala rubbed the tears from her eyes and looked around. She saw nothing but mutilated bodies and abandoned weapons. “I don’t know what I am looking for, Syn.”

  “Damn it, Nala, look for something that shouldn’t be there. Get up, damn you, and walk around him. Move a few feet out in all directions.”

  “All right, Syn.” Nala limped in a circle around Wolf, searching the ground for anything that didn’t belong on a battlefield. She glanced briefly at Sylvaine and Waylan as the two men fought, neither retreating. Sylvaine intensified his attack, driving Waylan back. The old king had to turn and defend himself from a ruffian, allowing Sylvaine to run to Nala’s position. She crouched, brandishing her dagger and raising her whip. Before he engaged her, Sylvaine stopped and turned back to Waylan, who had eviscerated his attacker and was charging like a stampeding dintar at the Templar’s back. Sylvaine hesitated for a moment, indecisive about which of the two to attack. He looked at Nala and then Waylan, crouched, and waved his sword back and forth like a dog wagging its tail. He threatened both but never moved a step from where he stood. It seemed to Nala that he was trying to protect a certain area and did not want to leave where he stood. She glanced down and spotted a small box, partially concealed by a dead soldier’s legs.

  “Syn, could it be in a box?”

  “Maybe, Nala…do you see one?”

  Nala pulled her whip and attacked Sylvaine. He stood his ground, repelling her whip as well as Waylan’s sword. Several of Sylvaine’s men came to his aid, and Waylan was forced to engage them while Nala battled Sylvaine. She changed her attack, snapping at Sylvaine’s face from many different angles and driving him back several feet. The tactic gave her the chance to snag the box with her whip and pull it to her.

  “Nanna bitch! NO!” Sylvaine yelled, charging at her. He raised his sword, preparing to deliver a vast, overhand blow that would smash through her hastily raised dagger and split her skull. But Waylan charged Sylvaine from behind and let out an animal roar. Sylvaine felt death’s cold breath as his nape hairs rose on the back of his neck and he spun around, blocking Waylan’s well-aimed sword that would have cut him in half.

  “I got it, Syn. Should I smash it?”

  “No. Don’t do that, Nala. It is probably rigged to blow up. It will kill you.”

  “I will gladly give my life for Wolf!” Nala cried. “I will smash the box. Goodbye, Syn. Tell Wolf that I loved him.”

  “Nala, don’t! In his weakened condition, Wolf will also die. Just get it away from him. The farther away you can take it the better. Run, Nala!”

  Nala hooked her whip on her belt clasp. Holding the box in one hand and her dagger in the other, she limped away. She had walked only a few yards when she had to sit down. Placing the box and her knife on the ground, she grabbed her dislocated ankle with both hands. She took a deep breath and twisted it back into place, letting out an anguished cry of pain.

  “Nala, what happened? Are you all right?” Syn asked.

  “I had to put my ankle back into its socket. It still hurts, but I can walk faster now,” Nala answered. She got to her feet, picked up the box and her dagger, and headed away from the battle towards an area where the Old Guard still fought.

  “Stop her, men!” Sylvaine shouted as he continued to fend off Waylan.

  A band of ruffians ran at Nala, but she was ready. She spun and flipped on one hand, using her tumbling skills to avoid the men. A dagger buried itself in her right shoulder, sending her sprawling on the ground, and she dropped the box. She scrambled to her feet and threw her own dagger into the face of one man, then groaned as she pulled the ruffian’s knife from her shoulder and continued to fight. A fist struck her square on the chin and she saw stars. She reflexively swung her blade up in a disemboweling thrust and felt it sink into flesh. A man screamed in pain. She blinked several times, trying to focus her eyes as she flailed her dagger back and forth in a defensive stance.

  When Nala’s vision cleared, she saw that she still faced four drynox-crazed ruffians. She was injured and slower than usual, so she absorbed blows she would have otherwise avoided. After several minutes of intense fighting, a dozen Old Guard warriors surrounded her, repelling the drug-crazed ruffians and slaying them.

  “Your king fights alone over there,” Nala said, pointing. “Help him.”

  The old warriors swarmed over the ruffians who were pursuing her, and Nala ran as fast as her injured ankle would carry her. Suddenly, Syn materialized in front of her. Nala stumbled into her arms, exhausted and weak from loss of blood.

  “Here it is,” she said, handing the box to Syn’s flickering image. The hologram wavered and disappeared, letting Nala and the box drop to the ground. Tired, bleeding, and barely holding on, Nala was too weak to stand. Sobbing, she asked, “Syn, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

  “I can’t hold my shape there,” Syn responded, her voice breaking up in Nala’s ear bud. “But I scanned the box and it contains explosives. It has more wires and dials than their first device, and it’s probably enough to kill everyone near Wolf. Nala, you must take it into the forest so I can destroy it. Take the box into the woods and set it down…place this by it.” A small pack of gel with a blinking light dropped from overhead.

  “What is this?” Nala asked, picking up the packet.

  “It is a tracking signal,” Syn explained. “It will help me locate the box and destroy the device that is hurting Wolf.”

  Nala struggled to her feet as Syn’s voice in her ear urged her to hurry. She ran towards the woods, limping on her damaged ankle but determined to save the life of the man she loved. She plunged into the thicket and headed into the forest. After twenty minutes, Syn’s crackling voice said, “That should be far enough. Put the box on the ground, Nala, and run back towards the castle as fast as you can.”

  Nala did as she was told and then began the trek back to the castle. She tried to run, but she was exhausted and in pain, and she moved in slow motion. As she entered a small clearing, she looked up and was startled by a rope dangling in front of her. She forced a weak smile as she thought, Who else could it be from? She tied the rope around her waist, and moments later, she was hoisted into the air. Syn appeared and extended a hand, helping Nala climb up into the ship.

  The ship rose over the forest as Syn carried Nala to a bench and gently laid her down. When she was a safe distance away from Jonar’s sonic device, she used the tracking device on the gel pack to pinpoint the box and then aimed the ship’s laser weapon, detonating the howler. The explosion leveled the forest for a mile in all directions. Syn turned the ship and flew back towards the battlefield to see if she could help Wolf, but the jamming signal was still disrupting the ship’s navigation and prevented her from descending to the plain.

  * * *

  The battle raged for several hours. Some of Jonar's ruffians went insane from the pure drynox, discarding their swords and attacking with their bare hands and teeth. Waylan fought valiantly to protect Wolf’s unconscious body. He never moved more than a few feet from Wolf, fighting incredible odds as Sylvaine sent his men in waves
to drive the king away from the fallen warrior’s body.

  Syn called Wolf’s name again and again in his earpiece. “Wolf! Wolf! Wake up, damn you!” He heard her calling his name from afar. The terrible buzzing pain was gone, but he still felt pain in his chest, head, and neck. His eyes opened and his head throbbed with pain as he mumbled, “Syn?”

  “Commander! I was afraid you were dead,” Syn gasped, relief in her voice. “Nala, he lives! You saved him!” Nala broke down sobbing and then fainted from exhaustion and loss of blood as Nurse Syn tended to her wounds.

  Wolf rolled over onto his elbows and knees. He had an excruciating migraine and was seeing double. He struggled to his feet and asked, “Syn? What happened?”

  “You were hit with an LRAD, Commander. It knocked you unconscious and you’ve been out for hours. I can’t land down there because a jamming device is preventing me from getting within a mile of you. I can only fly thirty-five feet above the battlefield. I know where you are because I am tracking your earpiece. We’ve destroyed the LRAD…but I can’t help you.”

  Wolf’s vision focused and he saw the men fighting around him. The roar of the battle exploded in his ears as his full hearing returned. It appeared Jonar’s ruffians were going to win. The Old Guard still fought, but they were old men and age was creeping up on them. Some clutched at their chests and dropped to the ground as Jonar’s men speared them like fish in a barrel. Others were exhausted and couldn’t stand against the strength of the younger mercenaries. They sank to their knees and the ruffians hacked them apart, showing no mercy.

  Anger rose in Wolf as he watched Waylan’s men being cut down. He picked up a sword and charged into the nearest cluster of enemies, slashing and chopping furiously. He sang a Hopi war song and felt the power of the words energize him. Wolf fought smarter, avoiding direct strikes from the ruffians’ weapons. His mask of invincibility had been shattered by recent events, and for the first time since landing in this primitive world, he knew that he could be hurt or even killed. Still, he fought hard, slashing at Sylvaine’s warriors. He released the inner beast his grandfather had feared, and he rampaged across the battlefield, slaying dozens of men with no remorse. He no longer regretted killing the ruffians—they were scum, and this world would be better without them. Men scattered and ran as he sang his war song and gained strength. Waylan’s men who were still alive took heart and renewed the attack, turning the tide of the battle and repelling the ruffians.