i just get sooooo bored sometimes that i type things and dont really go far or wide with it. like this first chapter for example. i can take it plenty of places, but my boredom catches me and i dont go anywhere. i guess im waiting for that one story that will last a lifetime.
Chapter 1
A WAR
The ground shook as the squadron of soldiers leaped from the first floor window into a trench. Hover-tanks skirted across the grounds every which way avoiding fire from the opposing forces. Another thunderous cannon fire and the soldiers fell to their knees as the ground shook with vigor. “Incoming,” shouted the lead soldier now hugging the inside of the trench. Toward the rear of the formation, the squadron sergeant peered over the sandbags that walled the trench; a boisterous explosion erupts out the back of a hover-tank not forty feet from their position.
“BLACK-HOLE CHARGE! Grab hold o’somethin lads,” shouted the sergeant now rushing to a nearby pipe sticking half way out of a left over wall structure to his right. Soldiers scrambled to grab what they could that was secure to the ground. Anything, anything that they could grab a hold of: roots, exposed wires or piping, even shards of metal sticking halfway out of the ground. A ‘Black-Hole’ charge was one of the most deadly forms of artillery known in modern times. The charge in itself can penetrate and latch onto four inches of solid titanium and when exploded can create a literal black-hole that can suck in any matter within one hundred-fifty-foot radius. Though the actual sphere of such an explosion is only twenty feet in circumference it has the sucking power of a turbo-jet engine.
The squadron consisted of about nine riflemen, three plasma gunners, and three cannoneers equaling a total of fifteen men for each squadron--no more and no less. These were highly trained fighters willing to throw down their lives at a moment’s notice. Soldiers ready to sacrifice themselves for the betterment of their countries and the people who lived in them. One by one, losing grip on their precious hold to the ground, soldiers lifted off from the power of the sucking vortex and disappeared into nothingness. Moments later the black-hole collapsed and the squadron was no more.
“We’re losing soldiers by the second out there! Those Black-Hole charges are tearing our ranks apart. We have to find way to out maneuver or out-flank the enemy! General Khain, what do you suppose we should do about this,” asked King Dragos Rudolphenémus to a tall muscular man to his left. General Khain, a man of great stature, stood tall clad in bronze space armor. Such armor could barely be broken by mere lead bullets or ordinary machinery. This was a piece of armor that could withstand great beatings as well as give them back in full frontal force. The general stood there for moments pondering the situation, buried in thoughts of how he could turn the current battle. He stared blankly at the viewing screen hoping some answer would pop out and smack him across the face. And then it dawned on him; the Dárxex, but one that was only to be used as a last resort in such situations. This battle had been going on now for seven months with no territory gained or taken. It was a standstill and everyone from both sides knew it. The general began, but closed his mouth in hope that there was another way. Perhaps some tiny glimmer of a plan that he had overlooked, but no there was none. This had to be done and fast; before all the Alliance soldiers were outnumbered and put to the slaughter.
“My lord, we… we could use the Dárxex Cannon,” grunted the general in a not so sure voice.
With a shutter the king looked down and clenched his jaw; letting out a mournful sigh, “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to such barbaric needs. This planet used to be very profitable indeed. Lots of commerce, lots of vacation resorts, but I guess not everything is honestly worth saving. Sacrifices must be made to stop my brother and his horrid games.”
“What do you mean my lord,” questioned the general now looking at the king with much curiosity.
“I quote: when quarrel goes to ground, leave no ground to go to,” said the king in a calm voice staring blankly out the forward window.
“Oh! Who said that my-lord,” General Khain asked walking over to a control panel; he then pressed several buttons to bring up accurate statistics on the command ship’s view screen. Statistics such as how much allied forces were left on the ground; how long it would take to pull forces back; and a charging rate on the Dárxex Super-Cannon. The Dárxex, once thought a myth throughout the known universe as a planet killer; a weapon that could cut through the core of a planet and thus create a super-nova that would obliterate the entire planet. Only six were known to have been built; five by the enemy and one by the alliance. Now there is only one due to King Dragos’s successful determination to destroy the others.
“Not who, but what; an old movie of some space conflict named ‘Serenity’ made by the Avalonian people on a planet called ‘Earth’ a couple centuries ago!” The king lifted his head to view the screen in front of him, text laden across the glass as though it were a holographic computer screen you could see though; calmly the king answered: “forty-five minutes to evacuate? Get it done in thirty minutes, I don’t want to be here a moment longer!”
“Yes my-lord! There’s a colony of Avalonians on ‘Earth’? How did they get there? I thought that was pirate space,” said a stout man from behind General Khain. Just opposite General Khain, Bridge Admiral Wolfheiz was a short man with broad shoulders and a thick chest. Instead of space armor the Bridge Admiral was dressed in a fine military uniform pressed and fit to form. Wolfheiz’s hair and beard were also clean cut and to military standard. In all, the Bridge Admiral looked as though he was w pampered part of the royal family; whereas General Khain was rough and big bearded. General Khain’s hair was not cut to standard; in fact, his hair was a clump of dreadlocks that flowed down to the middle of his back.
“It’s pirate space yes; but, who do you think the pirates work for,” the king said staring at the now surprised officers for a moment. “That’s right! It’s me, and as long as the pay is good and fair like any soldier here; they will always stay loyal to me and my cause!”
“But sir….”, Wolfheiz started, but the king stopped him.
“General, I will be in my quarters. Notify me as soon as the evacuations are complete,” stated the king turning to leave.
“Yes sir,” exclaimed the general as King Dragos left the bridge and down a dim lit hall to his chambers.
Back down on the planet soldiers were falling back in preparation to evacuation.
“COME ON YOU SORRY SONS OF DOGS! THE KING HAS ORDERED A FULL EVACUATION OF THE PLANET! THEY’RE BRINGING THE DÁRXEX CANNON ABOUT AND WE’VE BEEN GIVEN THIRTY MINUTES TO TUCK TAIL AND RUN! You there, leave that crate; it’s not needed, it’ll only weigh the escape capsule! Where the hell is Major Dantae; he and his troop should have been here long ago,” complained a bald-headed Colonel to his corpsmen.
“Sir Major Dantae is securing the western flank for an easier retreat! He’s with the Dark Troop now,” piped in a short First Lieutenant. The Colonel ,now stunned, gasped in a few short breaths and muttered to himself, “The Dark Troop!” Sweat now formed on his furled brow, the Colonel turned his attention back to his evacuation shuttle and commanded a lift off.
“God speed Dantae, you are one dangerous soul,” the Colonel said to himself as he peered out the glass porthole towards the back of the shuttle. The planet quickly spun out of view, only to be replaced by memories of past events that soon clouded his entire surroundings; memories of a huge house on the side on a cliff that over-looked the populace below. The mansion was tan stucco with large windows and grand terraces that could be seen from down on the ground one-hundred-sixty-five feet below. Behind the mansion were acres and acres of wheat fields; golden plains as far as the eye could possibly see.
The memory soon clouded over and then cleared to show a small boy playing in a great courtyard of sand. A large elaborate fountain stood in the middle made of black marble. At the top of the fountain stood a figure; it was King Tiberius Rudolphenémus. At the time Colonel Morris, an already aging man, was a heavy supporter of the tyrant king. But something changed inside of him one summer’s night when a young boy showed up to the door at his mansion in the country side.
“You boy! What is your name and why are you on my land,” spoke the Colonel with as much power was he could muster.
“I…..I’m…..D’….,” quietly whispered the little boy.
“Well out with it! Or shall I carve you a new tongue to speak with,” warned the Colonel, speaking with more of a threatening tone this time.
“D’…..Dantae sir,” squealed the little boy gasping as two hulky looking guards grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him off the ground till he was within eye level of the Colonel.
“AND? What is it you want boy, speak quickly,” shouted the Colonel glaring the already frightened boy in the face.
“I…..I have nowhere else to go my lord. My…..my parents were killed by the King for stealing sheep to feed me and…. and ….. a …”, tears started to form in the boy’s eyes; a sense of dreaded fear now engulfed the young boy for he suddenly knew that coming here was not a bright idea. Death, he knew it was close; he could taste it forming in the back of his mouth as though he had just eaten raw meat. Yes, the end was coming and for a moment he stopped crying and stared blank-faced at the Colonel who was now dying of laughter.
By the time the Colonel had stopped he was so red in the face one would think he was shouting the entire time. But something was terribly funny to the Colonel; not only had the boy got surprisingly perplexed but the two hulky looking guards looked at each other with similar confused faces as well. Finally the Colonel spoke after catching a much needed break from laughter, “Oh, come on! Don’t you people see the irony of all of this; I mean at least I think it’s ironic to be sheltering a slave whose parents were killed by the same man I work for,” a chuckle escaped his poised lips once more. “Ah, what of it then?” The Colonel looked the small boy in the face and then turned to enter the house, “for God’s sake put the child down, cloth him, feed him, and then put him with the other slaves out in the courtyard. I’ll have you bring him to me sometime tomorrow!” and with a wave of his hand the flashback flashed forward in time to a scene of a teenager learning to brawl with an over-sized Avalonian man.
“NO! You must go back to a defensive stance,” the burly man called out. “The Enemy can over-whelm your position and take you by surprise.” The teenage boy side-stepped and went back to a defensive stance as he was told. “Like this Torge?” asked Dantae.
“Yes, but you need to be faster…. and you need …,” Torge stopped and raised his hand up in front of himself to warn Dantae to stop the lesson, “did you hear that?”
Torge dropped his hand and walked over to the balcony window. Multitudes of citizens were shouting down in the streets below them. “Huh? I wonder what happened,” pondered Dantae aloud.
Suddenly an eruption of flame exploded from the royal palace, “AW MAN TORGE! Master Morris was at the palace today for a meeting with the King!” Dantae turned on his heels and ran over to the training wall where a pair of large fist knives were hung and grabbed them down.
“Now Dantae, you listen to me; there is nothing that you can do …. you hear me? DANTAE? You aren’t going to jump off this balcony,” Torge peered over the rail where he stood; the next roof top stood about seventy-five feet below and beyond that another roof top about one-hundred-twenty-five feet down.
“Honestly Dantae, you can’t make it; that roof there is too far down, no man could make that jump!”
But before Torge could step forward to block Dantae’s approach; Dantae was already up and over the rail yelling on the way over, “YOU KEEP THINKING THAT, AND I’LL KEEP PROVING YOU WRONG!!!”
Torge disappeared from view now; only a fast and closing roof top could be seen. Air gushed though Dantae’s loose, black hair; and brushed up against his face as it usually did in the summer time when he went running through the wheat fields. Closer and closer to his target did he fall; fifty feet now twenty-five feet, and before hitting twenty feet Dantae pulled on a piece of string that opened his black training suit to flow freely in the wind. The loose trail of cloth soon expanded into what was an ingenious parachute made straight into his clothing and thus slowing his fall by five feet. TOUCH DOWN!!! His fore-foot hit the roof top first with a “THUD;” curling into a tight ball and then rolling straight into a half standing-half squatting position, Dantae quickly leaped for the next roof top. This time, Dantae didn’t have much time to even think about slowing down; “CRASH!” straight down through the roof of a tavern and onto a table that snapped under his weight. The taverns folk jumped in surprise as the black figure jumped to his feet and ran out the door. Dantae ran to the end of the tavern deck and leaped into the street two feet down.
“Whew,” gasped Dantae now looking back up the balcony he just left, “note to self, never do that again!”
Dantae bounded down the street in the direction of the main palace. Citizens and soldiers alike were rushing past him in the opposite direction. Something bad had them spooked; something bad indeed if it scared the palace guards into fleeing from their posts.
Dantae wasn’t going to make it to the palace in time, not when millions of people were running in the opposite direction from his, and he knew this. There was only one way he could get there while avoiding traffic; he looked up and as he guessed, the roof tops were close enough to each other that one could leap from one to the next with no problem. Dantae pushed and shoved his way out of the crowd until he came upon a set of stairs that took him to the second floor of a pelting shop. Running to the other side, Dantae quickly grabbed a pole that was supporting an over-hang of the deck and clambered to the roof. Dantae looked back down into the street; he recognized it as the market district, he was now eighty yards from his destination. Another explosion erupted from the palace yards; blue and red flames filled the air while black smog filled the streets around the palace gates. Dantae’s heart started to race with adrenaline; fear now crept into his mind. What if he couldn’t make it; his master, Colonel Morris was like a father to him. He’d grown up to believe that what the Colonel was doing for the empire was for justice and equality. He was led into believing that his fate was sealed into protecting the lives of his master and the King.
Hurriedly, Dantae leapt for the first roof, and then to another. He had to make it; he had to do his duties and save his master and the King. Running along the roof tops, gaining speed along the way, Dantae suddenly screeched to a halt. No more than sixty feet in front of him stood two gigantic wooden framed doors. “How the hell am I going to get through that,” exclaimed Dantae not thinking of it before. But before he could take another step forward and leap back down into the city streets below, he heard a crackling sound coming from just beyond the gates. Both citizens and soldiers froze in place watching the gates. Tendrils of light started oozing through the shattering gates, and before Dantae could duck down behind a chimney three feet away, the gates burst outward into a trillion pieces blowing Dantae back off his footing and over the side of the roof top. Dantae let go of his fist weapons and grabbed hold of the side of the roof with both hands as a bluish-black beam skittered across the roof above him and rebounded into a building off to his right, again exploding in a monstrous ball of flames.
Dantae swung himself left to right; left to right; left to right and then hooked his legs over the ledge he was hanging from and pulled himself back up onto the roof. Breathing heavily now, Dantae laid there frozen, unable to move under the weight of fear’s great hammer. Still breathing heavily, Dantae struggled to his feet and rushed to the other side of the roof top to see the damage done. Citizens were back to running now; while soldiers were swallowing fear itself and rushing forward to attain a brief glory before meeting the scythe of the black cloaked man and being thrown down into the river Styx.
Dantae started pondering to himself, “what… what am I doing here? Shouldn’t I be running like everyone else?” Moments past, then minutes; nothing had changed since he’d gotten to his feet. The city was in complete chaos; Dantae would hear his instructor’s voice in the back of his mind, “don’t be afraid of your target boy,” he could hear the anecdotes of his tutor clear as day; as though Torge was standing right there next to him, “stay in a defensive stance, don’t give your target a reason to take you by surprise.”
Dantae cleared his thoughts and eased his body into a low defensive stance, “I won’t!” Bounding forward, Dantae leapt from the roof and down to the street below. Having lost grip of both his knives in the explosion, Dantae happened upon a sword sticking half-way out of the ground. Gripping the sword tight in his right hand now, he flung himself towards the battered gates. Fear hit him like a wall of bricks. A rebellious group known only as the ‘Dark Troop” were attacking royal troopers, and there in the middle of the fray was Colonel Morris. But the sight of the rebellion didn’t send demonic chills through his spine; ‘NO!’ no, the fact that his master; Colonel Morris was not only fighting, but was fighting alongside of the ‘Dark Troops!’ a group of men formed by the King’s own son Prince Dragos as a means to take the throne. This was a force so greatly tethered down to an abundance of magic that one pure shot from one of these men could obliterate five-hundred-seventy square miles in any direction.
Dantae stood there frozen; unable to move from a decision he had to make. Help the King as he had been taught, a man whom in the past killed his parents; or save Colonel Morris, a man who took him in, fed him, clothed him, and taught him how to fight. Dantae closed his eyes hoping this was all but a dream and he would soon awake from this terrible nightmare. He peeled his eyes open hoping to find himself still in the tutelage of Torge, hoping he was knocked unconscious by the great brute. But to his ever growing fear this was not the case; his stomach churned as he bounded forward in battle.
“If I am to die, then let it not be by the King or my master; but on the plains of War! I shall die as a man in this life and I am prepared to sacrifice everything in what I believe! AND I BELIEVE….. COLONEL MORRIS MUST BE SAVED!!!”
