Fractured Earth Saga 1: Apocalypse Orphan

by Tim Allen

  Sylvaine saw the writing on the wall. He had hoped to overwhelm the gates and obliterate Waylan’s geriatric warriors, but this was crazy. He had lost the only weapon they had that could kill the arrogant outsider. Sylvaine himself had thrown three spears at Wolf and scored direct hits in the chest, head, and thigh with no effect. He assumed Jonar’s howler had been destroyed, and now, nothing could scratch his nemesis.

  A short distance away, Sylvaine saw Waylan clubbing and hacking at his ruffian troops. The gray-bearded old king should have died a dozen battles ago, but he had lived on and fought on. Hours ago, he had been forced to retreat behind a line of his own warriors, and Sylvaine had expected him to yield to the daunting odds, but the steely old man kept coming, slaughtering all who stood in his path. Despite outnumbering Waylan ten to one, Sylvaine’s warriors couldn’t kill that wild man.

  Now that Wolf was up again, Sylvaine’s army was melting like ice on a sunny day. The wounds Sylvaine had inflicted on Wolf earlier had healed. Jonar’s howler had worked—but it couldn’t kill the man. Still, he had the satisfaction of pushing his dagger into Wolf’s chest. He drew the blade, which still had Wolf’s blood on it, and examined it with satisfaction. He would have to show this blood to Jonar. Replacing the dagger in its sheath, he glared with disgust as his ineffective army disintegrated.

  * * *

  Darkness had fallen over the battlefield, yet the fighting raged on. The field was lit with metal pots from the gate’s parapets, and Wolf was fighting again, rallying his men. Sylvaine’s army was in retreat, trampling in the ankle-deep blood of their fellow warriors. As the men fled, they were intercepted by Dalla’s army of ferocious Nanna warriors who had finally arrived to defend the kingdom of Springdale.

  Sylvaine cursed the cowardice of his fleeing men as the Nanna and their animals ripped into them. The women were lightning fast and deadly as they flipped through the air, spinning and twisting, slicing and hacking his men to shreds. Sylvaine reflected on Wolf’s successful ploy to subvert the Nanna and muttered to himself that this was supposed to be Waylan’s army being demolished. A flank of Nannas blocked Sylvaine’s retreat as Old Guard warriors closed in from the rear and sliced down his remaining forces. The Templar glared with hatred, first at Wolf and then at Waylan, before retreating into the forest and away to safety.

  Wolf heard the howling of Dalla’s warriors drawing closer. Across the battlefield, he saw the queen moving with liquid grace as she stabbed, whipped, and beheaded ruffians with a sadistic pleasure that sent a chill down his spine. Freezing in his tracks, he nearly dropped his sword as he saw Brithee. She moved a bit slower than Nala, but the girl was remarkably adept. Wolf got another shock when he caught sight of Onel fighting nearby. The man wasn’t the juggernaut his brother was, but he was slaying Sylvaine’s men right and left, fighting with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. His movements were highly skilled and fluid.

  Eleven thousand ruffians took the field that day, and fewer than five hundred escaped. Waylan lost two thousand Old Guard fighters and hundreds of men at arms, but it was a victory for his kingdom. Wolf lost eight hundred men who had pledged to him, while the Nanna didn’t lose a single warrior, although many were injured.

  Waylan walked over to Wolf and clasped his hand, raising it in the air. “To victory!” he shouted, provoking a roar of jubilation from the field. Wolf raised Waylan’s hand proclaiming, “To Waylan, King of the World!” The Old Guard warriors clapped their swords against their shields and cheered again.

  “Commander, are you all right?” Syn asked in a shaky voice, and Wolf sensed that she had been crying. Placing a hand over his mouth, he answered, “Yes, Syn, I am unhurt. We have won.”

  “No, Commander, this was just a token force to whittle down your numbers. Jonar took his best troops and departed hours before Sylvaine attacked with the ruffians. He will return.”

  “And we will be waiting, Syn.”

  “Wolf, you need to find the device that is jamming me. It uses a technology superior to the ones Jonar deployed before.”

  Chapter 28

  As the battle ended, an age-old ritual was acted out—one witnessed in every war fought in human history: the outpouring of misery, weeping, and despair of the survivors. The mighty portcullis swung open, and the wailing started as the wives and children of the fallen came out to find their dead, wounded, and dying. As grief-striken loved ones congregated by the portcullis, the wooden casket holding the mutilated remains of Haakon suddenly exploded. The blast was enormous and ripped the massive gates off the castle entrance.

  When the smoke and dust had settled, hundreds were dead or maimed, and the horrific sight of twisted, mangled bodies—most of them defenseless women and children—made men howl with rage. Jonar’s bombing was an atrocity, and only a sadist would delight in such a tactic. Soldiers and stunned family members ran to the gates, clawing through the rubble in a frantic search for survivors.

  The search and rescue mission went on throughout the night. Men slept where they were, some lying among the dead, as torches were moved around to illuminate the area. Finally, dawn colored the horizon and the first light played across the field of death.

  Wolf had labored through the night and was still sorting through the dead. He had lined up his fallen troops in neat rows for burial and tossed the corpses of Sylvaine’s ruffians in a pile. He dispatched a detail of men into the forest to gather wood for funeral pyres. Priests blessed the remains of both armies, asking God to accept the fallen knights who had defended the kingdom and forgive the sins of Jonar’s invaders. At one point, Syn informed Wolf through his ear bud that the massive blast had silenced the jamming signal.

  Waylan toiled beside his subjects, but when Wolf saw him stagger and nearly fall from exhaustion, he grabbed the king by the arm and said, “Sire, come, let us retire. We have done all we can. The Old Guard warriors who gave their lives have been buried, and their graves are blessed. My loyal soldiers have been laid to rest. The only dead out there now belong to Jonar. We will finish later.”

  “Aye, Wolf, I am spent. Many of my Old Guard left this life as warriors. It is the way all old soldiers past their prime have always dreamed of dying—in battle, serving their lord. I weep for my friends and loyal men. But I am king. No one will work while I rest. This burden I must share,” Waylan said, and he went back to digging. By the dozens, the men around him dropped their shovels and sat down, knowing Waylan wouldn’t stop working until they did.

  Waylan stood to stretch his back when he noticed that his men had stopped working and were watching him. “So you all stop to appease me?” he growled. “My respect for you men and women is beyond question. My pride in you is great. So be it, I will retire…for the time being.”

  The king gave orders to the men who remained behind to deal with the carnage and placed guards at the demolished gates. He then walked into the castle. The moment he was out of sight, he slumped against a wall. After resting briefly as Wolf looked on with concern, Waylan steadied himself, and they proceeded to the throne room. Onel, who had left a few hours earlier on his brother’s order, was waiting for them with goblets of cold wine.

  “An incredible victory, my brother,” Onel said. “We have eliminated a large part of Jonar’s army.”

  “I, too, lost many of my men,” Waylan lamented. “They were loyal friends and retainers who had served me for forty years. They gave their last breath serving me on that field. These great wars must end. Another battle will leave me no one to rule.”

  “That is not true, my lord,” a woman’s voice called from the doorway. Dalla walked into the room, accompanied by Eras and Titus. She approached Waylan and declared, “I will serve you.”

  “As will I,” Eras affirmed. “I have contacted my father, and he is sending three thousand subjects to Springdale. Granted, two thousand are women and children, but you also will receive fighting men. I served Wolf, and he has said you are a just lord. Wolf desires no servants, and you are worthy of our
allegiance, Your Majesty, so we will serve you.”

  “Aye, we come too, my lord. We run the land, but we will settle here if it is your desire. I bring over two thousand Nanna warriors to serve you,” said Dalla. Raising a suggestive eyebrow, she added in a sultry voice, “And I would serve you personally, my lord.”

  Waylan nodded and said, “I accept your pledges to serve me, but I do not condone rapine, murder, or slavery. If this is acceptable to you, then we are as one, and I invite you to settle in the lands. Eras, do you prefer castle life or range life in my service?”

  Eras stepped forward and said, “Sire, it would be an honor to defend this place. It is the finest castle I have seen. Do you have enough room for my people?”

  “This castle can hold many thousands. Even when the Old Guard was at full force, we had the room. Dalla, what is your wish—castle or range?”

  “Range, my lord. But I will stay here with a small garrison of Nanna, and my daughters will run the range.”

  Waylan looked at Titus and said, “What of you?”

  “I am considered an outcast by my people,” Titus said sadly.

  “You are of my castle now—be at peace. And what of you, Wolf? What will you do?” Waylan asked. “The foe is pushed back and the war is over. Will you go on to explore, or will you and Syn stay awhile?”

  “We will stay for a time, my lord. I want to make sure you heal, and we still have injured men who need care. Also, I don’t want Jonar to return by surprise. We must be certain his army is in full retreat. He is far too intelligent not to know we are in disarray.”

  “Agreed,” said Waylan, yawning. “I must sleep. The night was long and difficult.”

  “I will see you after you have rested,” Wolf said. Turning to Onel, he instructed, “If the king’s injuries are more than his chirurgeons can handle, send for me.”

  “I will…and thank you, Wolf. We could not have won without you,” Onel said earnestly.

  “I don’t believe that. I was unconscious for hours as your king and his men fought to hold the line. I take no credit for this victory—that honor belongs to the brave men of this kingdom.”

  Wolf turned and left the throne room, heading off to his quarters on the upper floor of the castle. He hoped Syn had returned with the ship.

  “Sire, he belittles his skills and lessens his worth. What a fine man he is,” Onel remarked to Waylan.

  “Aye, if he hadn’t awakened when he did, we would have been defeated. We were played out. He is an honorable man,” Waylan agreed.

  “Forgive me, brother, I need to ask Wolf something,” Onel said, standing and quickly exiting the throne room.

  * * *

  Wolf walked up the stairs and found Syn waiting at the entrance to the tent. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing. Then she turned her face up and kissed him. “Are you all right, my love?” she murmured, running her hands over his body, probing for injuries.

  Before Wolf could answer, Onel called from the stairway, “Your pardon, Wolf and Lady Syn, I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?”

  “Anything, Onel. I owe you and your brother much,” Wolf said, easing himself from Syn’s arms and wondering what Onel could want.

  “I merely ask for the shard you took from my brother’s leg.”

  “Syn will fetch it for you. But may I ask why?” At a nod from Wolf, Syn went to the med bay to retrieve the sword tip.

  “My brother received that injury the night before his first battle. He was stabbed as he lay sleeping. Even wounded and bleeding, he followed our father’s warriors into battle the next day. That is where our mighty sire was slain. Waylan was ten years old, and since he stood as tall as any man, he fooled others into thinking him a common soldier. The odds were frightful, and our troops were badly outnumbered, but Waylan inspired the troops to victory by refusing to retreat from our father’s body. He fought for hours with only my father’s remaining bodyguards until reinforcements arrived. I thought the blade tip would make a fitting heirloom for Waylan.”

  Syn returned with the shard and handed it to Wolf. As he passed it on to Onel, he asked, “Do you know what the inscription says?”

  “Yes, but I will not speak it. It is too terrible to repeat. We may all come to regret that you removed it.” Onel tried to hide a look of apprehension as he turned and walked down the stairs.

  Wolf was confused by Onel’s words but shrugged and turned to ask Syn about it. She cut him off and threw herself into his arms, asking repeatedly if he was all right.

  “I'm all right, Syn,” Wolf consoled her. “My wounds healed quickly as soon as I regained consciousness. But what happened?”

  “Jonar used harmonics to undermine your strength. He has discovered a way to counter your invincibility and make you as vulnerable as any mortal on this planet. I don’t know how he did it, Wolf, but Jonar is smart—and very dangerous.”

  “I will have to be careful,” Wolf agreed. With a rueful chuckle, he added, “I guess I’m not a superman after all.”

  “Even the comic strip Superman had his kryptonite. Yours is high-frequency sound.”

  “What else is going on, Syn? Did I miss anything?”

  “Nala knows about the ship and most of its capabilities.” Syn raised a hand to silence Wolf’s protest. “It was necessary. Sylvaine had you down, and he would have killed you. I couldn’t get to you, so we lifted off. I took her to your location on the battlefield, and she jumped fifteen feet to the ground to save you. She dislocated her ankle when she landed, yet she fought hard for hours, protecting you from Sylvaine. She reset the dislocation herself, causing more damage to her foot. It will heal, but it will take time.”

  “Where is she?” Wolf asked with concern.

  “Commander, that’s not all.”

  “Syn, is she okay? Just tell me if she’s all right,” Wolf demanded.

  “Nala is alive, but she was injured in the battle. I have her sedated. She fainted after you recovered, and I placed her in the medical unit. She has three broken ribs, a broken tibia, a torn abdominal muscle, several deep stab wounds, and deep cuts to her chest that will require plastic surgery. Come, my love, let’s check on her.”

  They walked into the med unit, and Wolf gazed at the woman, shocked by the severity of her wounds. Her face was purple, swollen, and bruised; her lip was split, attesting to the ferocity of the battle she had waged to protect him. “She is amazing…and very brave,” he said.

  “Yes, very brave. She loves you as do I.”

  “Syn, what are we going to do?” Wolf asked, feeling unstable and confused. “This love triangle scares me. I’m in love with two women, and I don’t know if I can choose.”

  “There is no choice to make, Wolf. I told you, Nala is for you. She is flesh and blood. I can offer you nothing. Believe me, I am not angry. I love Nala and I would do anything for her, even sacrifice my love for you.”

  “Stop, Syn. What you and I have is special. I will not lose it. Let’s allow time to decide what will be,” Wolf suggested, as he and Syn each held one of Nala’s hands.

  * * *

  In the weeks after the battle, life at the castle was returning to normal. The official story was that Haakon had died a hero in the king’s service. Only Wolf, Nala, Syn, and Waylan knew the truth. When Nala told her children the news, Reon, Leesa, and Trulane cried, while Brithee remained aloof, as would be expected of a trained Nanna.

  Wolf began to suspect that Nala was avoiding him. She was content to spend her time with Syn and the others on the roof or in public, but when Wolf came around, she averted her eyes and made a weak excuse to leave.

  Nala had fully recovered, and one day, Brithee challenged her to a friendly duel. The young girl had defeated several highly adept Nanna warriors and wanted to impress her mother with her skills. She even had the audacity to challenge her grandmother, but Dalla laughed and dismissed the girl with a wave of her hand. When Waylan heard about the challenge, he decided it was a good time for a contest of arms and off
ered fabulous prizes to the most skilled contestants in the use of swords, knives, whips, and other events.

  The day of the contest, Brithee strutted into the coliseum behind the castle with an air of cockiness. She had developed into a Nanna warrior in a remarkably short time. Her physique was ripped with muscle, and she walked with her head held high. She was accompanied by her aunt Skylla and her sister Leesa. Skylla was well aware of Nala’s fighting prowess and had tried to dissuade Brithee, but the headstrong girl scoffed at her warnings. Nala entered the arena with an air of supreme confidence that bordered on amusement over her daughter’s precocious challenge, with Syn and Wolf at her side.

  The two women bowed to Waylan, who signaled for the contest to begin with a wave of his hand. Nala and Brithee bowed to one another and then brandished blunted whips. Brithee attacked with a series of overhand swings aimed at her mother’s wrist, trying to disarm Nala straight off. Nala blocked each stroke with lightning fast counters that precisely hit the tip of her daughter’s blunted whip. Brithee clenched her teeth in stubborn determination and changed tactics, attacking her mother’s feet. Nala flipped in incredible handsprings, back flips, and no-handed fulls—moves that resembled the floor routine of an Olympic gymnast on ancient earth—and she avoided her daughter’s well-aimed strokes.

  Brithee was breathing hard and Nala smiled. Then the two women exploded into a mass of flipping, spinning chaos, swinging their whips with amazing precision as they fought around the ring. Brithee gave her all and was sweating profusely, determined to prove a point to all who watched, especially her mother.