SDIV El Juego Chapter Thirty Part One

Chapter Thirty

The Tower

Cemetary Plain
Zone III

The roar of engines wrenched Shan’s attention away from the enthralling sight of his erstwhile Master’s imminent demise. The various Shuttles and Attack Boats descended rapidly, disgorging the check-suited humans and he watched intently as an old woman descended from an open ramp, her young aide holding her upright. The aide was beautiful and Shan felt the stirrings of his perverted lust as he gazed upon her. There was something about the old woman though, something that he should remember…

A venomous green light speared from the old woman’s hand, searing his rotten flesh and driving him to his knees. Raw energy melted into him, boiling what was left of his blood in indescribable agony.

“Now, do you remember…?”

A voice filled with hate and spite ripped and tore at his mind, and he suddenly knew who she was, and despite his overwhelming pain he still had time for fear.

“M…”

“Enough, worm,” spat Shanna as she threw aside Clari’s unnecessary support, “you were always weak.”

She raised her staff on high, all pretence of weakness disappearing. Clari recoiled in horror as the Witch Woman began to transform, her wrinkled body filling and lengthening. Scales were visible, and her snout emerged with a forked tongue flicking free to taste the air.

“S-s-s-cum-m-m-m,” she hissed and thrust the staff forward, its tip glowing red with heat.

“I think not,” said a cheerful voice, and Clari looked on a beautiful winged God, glowing with purity and light, “this one is mine now.”

Shanna changed her attention to Viker as he dropped in front of the steaming husk of his minon. He was not alone, as other winged monsters surrounded him. As the beam struck, Clari’s vision cleared and she saw Viker for who he truly was and she screamed at the broken wings and blood-smeared face.

Viker flicked a last palm and the beam sped away, striking a group of his followers and incinerating them where they stood.

“Not so ea-s-s-y? Lo-s-s-t your power?” cackled the evil old woman.

“Now…Ngulu,” whispered Viker as he sank to his knees.

Powerful arms wrapped around the witch and began to squeeze, and this apparition was the final straw which drove Clari screaming towards the nearby heights. She did not stop running until she reached the lines of Taartuns who watched in horror as the battle unfolded below them, where she collapsed in front of the diminutive Chosen One.

Her humiliation was complete, as he ignored her and the crackles of released energy as Shanna fought back. Instead he stared at the broken-topped Tower, grim-faced and implacable.

There was an almighty cracking sound and the top third of the Tower spilt way, crashing to the ground in a mix of dust and rubble. Clari felt the deep booming tone of a bell deep within her chest and opened her mouth to ask and question but Cornelius Butt had gone, racing as fast as his legs could carry him down towards the plain below. With a roar the others drew their weapons and followed, an armoured Knight in the lead, leaving  a bewildered Clari and her loyal retainers beside the craft she had sent to capture the horrible little man.

“The Chosen One is he?” sneered Clari rising to her feet with what little dignity she could muster. “It didn’t take him long to run away…”

She squeaked as strong arms gripped her shoulders and turned her forcibly to watch Cornelius and his men.

“They go to their deaths, you stupid girl,” growled a voice she recognised, as Warchief MacEdoon at last let her go and she saw a great pair of wings pushing forth from the ruins of the Tower. Dark smoke boiled upwards as whatever was inside tried to burst free.

“And you?” she sneered, “What does a mighty Warchief like you do?”

A weathered face grinned back at her as MacEdoon dragged his sword free of its scabbard, “Why follow of course…”

Sudden Dearth Now on Twitter

Yeah, I know, it's taken me long enough, but you can now follow my progress towards publishing the next two books on Twitter.

You can find me at  @suddendearth and I will be updating the progress towards the publication of A Cold Dish and Eldrid, Officer Of The Guard.

Sudden Dearth IV will continue to be published here FREE on my blog.

Cheers

Rayo

SDIV El Juego Chapter 17 Part 1

Chapter Seventeen Cursed Hills Zone IV Grishak still retained consciousness, the pain had all but gone now and he hung onto life by a thread. Great swathes of flesh had been peeled away, the hungry tribesmen rushing and cutting free tasty morsels, impatient enough to risk burned limbs in their eagerness to feed. His sight gone, Grishak retained only partially his hearing, the once great Tauran Elite reduced to being nothing more than food. He heard the first cries, the roaring, the sounds of weapons striking flesh and was glad. At least he would not die alone. As his life left him, he witnessed the sounds of carnage, of the destruction of the last flicker of human life in the area as the Ambryn feasted, and internally at least, he smiled. Emerald Forest Zone I A sword rested lightly against Harms’ chest, he dared not move as he and the rest of his men were disarmed. The first of the Knights raised his visor, the obviously human face stared down sternly upon Harms from the back of the warhorse. “Bind them!” ordered the Knight and as Harms tried to speak, “And gag them as well! There will be enough time for explanations at their trial!” Helplessly, and none too gently, they were led away, their weapons hastily bundled into a sack on the back of one of the horses. They were tied together via a long piece of rope and with a jerk they moved off. Llorente fell and was dragged along the ground for a time, until Harms managed to help him to his feet, their captors looking on disdainfully. Cursed Hills Zone IV There was nothing left of the tribesmen, or Grishak. The only sign of life was the heaving mass of Ambryn, as they pranced around the fire in an inexplicable alien ritual of celebration. Then they were still, heads cocked to one side as they listened intently. This lasted but a moment and the dancing began again, its wildness increasing with each pass around the flames.

Emerald Forest
Zone I


“Monsters!” screamed Harms, the rope noose beginning to tighten around his neck, “I said, monsters...they’re coming!”

“Hold!” cried an older voice, “What do you know about monsters? We recently lost two of our brethren in the pursuit of such. Their loss has the distinct taste of magic...!”

“Yes, yes, that’s us,” gabbled Harms, in excitement, “We’re the magicians!”

“Thank you for that admission,” said the Knight moving into Harms vision, then turning to the gathered crowd, “You heard what he said … burn them!”

SDIV Chapter 16 Part 1

Chapter Sixteen

Cemetary Plain
Zone III

Ngulu the Broken was upset. No-one understood him. Granted, his urges made it hard for him to be loved, but he found that people judged him only by his appearance. He could not remember how he had arrived on this strange planet, nor did he know how the magic worked, which moved him between places. It always seemed to happen when he was hungry, and that was the problem.

Food meant battle; he needed fresh meat and it just seemed to be there, waiting for him. More recently, he felt persecuted, especially by the strange detachable creatures with shiny skins. They were fragile, yet persistent. Now he was in pain, his mouth held rigidly open and feeding was not an option.

His hand burned, breaking into his simple reverie and he dropped the small warrior to the ground, shuffling round on his injured legs to stare curiously at the strange little man. The tiny winged animal clung ever tighter, seemingly intent on doing Ngulu’s work for him.

He started back as flames burst from the head of the red-haired human, grunting in surprise. Totally engrossed in the scene being played out before him, he forgot about Sir Frederic, who was pulling himself to his feet with the aid of his now recovered sword.

*

Cornelius was in a world of pain, his neck and face on fire. No longer did he rationalise, instead he existed. Where Clari touched him, nerve endings protested vehemently. His mouth opened, a scream trying to break free, but nothing came out. Head flung back, arms raised in supplication, Cornelius suffered.

*

Clari knew that her time had come. She felt bones become fluid, skin translucent and she surrendered to her purpose, pouring her essence into the process, sacrificing her existence for the one she loved.

*

Sir Frederic saw the monster leaning over his erstwhile saviour. The wounds on the creature’s legs had ceased to weep and he watched in horror as flesh began to reknit. There was little time; he needed to act now. Cursing, he clanked his way forward, certain that the thing would notice him at any moment. Sword raised he threw all of his training and muscles into one all-powerful blow.

*

Child-like, Ngulu the Broken centred all of his concentration on the transformation before him. The flesh on Cornelius’ face melted, becoming one with the body of the winged creature, whose hold did not lessen as it consumed itself. Red skin arched upwards, struggling to meld the two forms together, ridging where there was union. Flames licked along Cornelius’ shoulder, neck and cheek, where a small head nestled in an ultimate caress. Ngulu saw the moment when Clari died, when her form became no more than an intricate tattoo which added to those already on Cornelius’ body. This was brighter though, a brilliant red tracing a line from Cornelius’ neck, wrapping round his throat and terminating at his eye.

As the human fell to the ground, Ngulu reached forward reverently. It was then that he heard the stamp of feet and the swish of a weapon. Rolling quickly, he tried to avoid the blade, which even now smashed downwards.

SD IV Chapter 15 Part 2

Cursed Hills
Zone IV

Grishak was puzzled; he had seen no signs of life. Granted the ground was rocky, with little in the way of plant or animals, but he had expected to have crossed at least some type of trail by now.

He found himself in an area of numerous caves, their design evidencing that they were not purely a natural phenomenon. Still, he thought, as he bent down to drink from a swiftly rushing stream, laying his axe to one side but within easy reach, it was unusual.

An angry buzzing sound, made him reach for his weapon, as an arrow bounced off the rock in front of him. He whirled ready to face his attackers and was struck three times in quick succession. Once through his bicep, another through the meaty part of his shoulder and the third time into his left thigh.

Wounds which would not incapacitate him but irritate him for sure. There was a mixture of chanting, battle cries and plain screaming as a rag tag bunch of tribesmen charged his position. He grinned to himself and readied his axe, much opposition they would not be, but at least they would lift his spirits.

*

With a casual swing, Grishak decapitated the first of his attackers, ducking below an incoming stave, he drove his weapon upwards. Its sharpened blade tearing between the tribesman’s legs and only stopping when it ran out of momentum. He kicked the man off the axe, a mixture of blood and entrails stringing out from the falling body.

A sword slammed into his shoulder and he cursed, this was not as easy as he thought. It seemed as though these fools were intent on dying, their insane charge having been followed up by simultaneous attacks. He knew he was winning, but in his partially recovered state, he was weakening quickly.

Arms clasped him from behind and a huge tribesman rushed forward, his spear pulled backwards ready to strike. Leaning forward Grishak felt the man on his back unbalance and quickly he smashed his head back, being rewarded with a cry of pain. Breaking the hold on his arms, he grabbed his assailant and threw him directly onto the oncoming blade point. With a shout, he followed through with the axe, splitting the second man’s skull in two.

They were all around him, he was corralled like a wild animal with bared steel ringing him in. There was a whirring and the first arrow struck causing him to bellow in pain.

Rushing forward he lashed his axe from side to side, but his attackers melted away before him. Arrows flashed from behind, cutting into his limbs and he whirled once more, to be presented with the same scenario. Little by little his strength drained away, his wounds debilitating yet never fatal.

At last he fell to his knees, head swaying from side to side and with a concerted rush they came. Half standing he struck into them, two or three more fell before they pulled back. Then came more arrows and slowly he slumped to the floor, his vision blurring and finally he was overcome, a vast blackness overpowering him.

Cemetary Plain
Zone III

With a roar the creature stood to its full height, towering over the onrushing Knights. This did not stop them. One long arm reached out and plucked a Knight from his saddle, jaws closed and razor-sharp teeth sheared through armour. Cornelius saw the head spat aside, before the body was unceremoniously dumped on the floor, blood fountaining clear.

A lance shattered against iron-hard skin, splinters whistling past the monster’s head. One hoofed foot struck, cracking the horse’s ribs and caving in its chest. Its rider hit the ground hard, and did not move again. Butt was close now.

Sir Frederic screamed his war-cry once more, adjusting the angle of his lance at the last moment. The steel-tipped head cleaved through flesh and stuck hard, passing through one side of the thing’s jaw and out the other. It shook its head at the irritation, holding and snapping the weapon easily. The Knight drew his sword and whirled back to the attack.

Cornelius did not know what the thing was, but it still only had two arms and two legs. Granted they were huge, as were the muscles which rippled across its immense frame. The red-skinned monster had been bad, this was a nightmare. Someone had been drinking when they had created this; wolven-jawed, earless, with a lizard-like tail and hooven feet. Long strings of slaver fell from its partially opened maw, the remains of the lance blade fixing its features sadistically. He saw the Knight raise himself high in his stirrups and strike down, watched him fly backwards; his blow blocked and followed with a ringing slap. It was his turn now.

As the thing turned to kick out, Cornelius slid underneath it. Blades free, he scurried past, slicing at its taut hamstrings. With an audible twang they parted, causing it to drop to its knees. His plan was not as successful as he had expected though, as its tail helped it keep balance. A clawed hand closed about his head and began to squeeze.

SD IV Chapter 15 Part 1

Chapter Fifteen

Cemetary Plain
Zone III

Butt stared at the tower in the distance, lost in thought. He did not believe in prescience, but the dream had foreseen this. All it needed now was the arrival of the winged creature and he would begin to change his mind. Instead the crack of pistol fire shocked him back to reality.

Kam had disappeared, the waving grass giving away his position, that and the angry roaring.

“Burns!”

The sniper nodded; he had already seen the action and had dropped to one knee, rifle ready. There was a thudding sound, growing ever louder to their rear and Butt span, pistol ready. What he saw stopped him short, and that took some doing.

Barrelling down on them was a trio of heavily armoured knights; lances couched and pennants flying. They seemed not to have noticed the humans and were quickly past, aiming directly for Kam’s position. A horn sounded and Cornelius looked on in amazement as the lead Knight winded the instrument again.

“Don´t ask me,” muttered Burns, as he set off in pursuit.


*

For Sir Frederic D’Aix the chase was everything; they had followed the tracks of the beast for three days, crossing one of the magic portals in their pursuit of the monster. A village had been decimated, the remains of its inhabitants telling their own story. Sworn to defend the populace at large and with the love of battle singing in their blood, they had accepted the challenge.

He had noticed the two warriors, dismissing the strangely attired child and the soldier with his long stick as less than worthy of his attention, the Knight was now concentrated on the kill. It was close now.

*

Sir Frederic loved the charge; his horse and he as one, muscles in synchronisation as his vision narrowed to the target. The lance felt weightless in his hand as he prepared for the strike, knees gripping tightly against his mount, ready to transmit any minute adjustment necessary.

“Vandron!” he roared, and struck.

*

Kam was unaware of his rescuers, until he was bowled aside by one of the horses. He had been transfixed by the creature in front of him, unable to categorise it, apart from it being aggressive and deadly. His first two shots had bounced off its leathery skin, annoying it more than inflicting any lasting damage, and he was in the process of praying when the Knights joined the fray.

Thinking that he was hallucinating, but unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, literally, he turned and ran, crashing into Burns as he tried to make his escape. Cornelius raced past, his short legs pumping furiously.

“We´ll talk later,” he promised, as he continued on his way, Clari screaming her own retort.

Emerald Forest
Zone I

Harms peered around the thick trunk of the tree. Somehow they had gotten switched around here and once more, had found the Taurans, or at least their handiwork. The clearing in front of him showed the results of one of their typically brutal attacks. Men, women and even children had not been spared; rough, home-spun clothing was torn and rent, flesh burnt and bodies defiled. It must have happened recently, as evidenced by the still-rising trails of smoke from the camp fire and corpses equally.

They cautiously approached and could see that the fight had not been all one-sided, discarded rifles, an occasional Tauran soldier sprawled arms akimbo, all testified to some resistance. There was the jingling of horse tack, strange shouted commands and suddenly they found themselves surrounded. A body of Knights had appeared, their visors lowered making impossible to read their intent.

Harms was aware that in such a stand-off, their firepower would take a heavy toll, but eventually sheer numbers would win out. They were few and in a strange land. Friends would be an important tool of survival. He made his decision.

Carefully, the Sargeant lowered his rifle, holding his hand out in what he hoped was a peaceful gesture. Silence greeted him and he opened his mouth to speak. With a curt command, the lead Knight, whose rich apparel spoke loudly of his status, drew his sword. The other Knights followed his actions, kneeing their horses forward. This, thought Harms, is not looking good.

SDIV Chapter 14 Part 2

“Ah, Burns,” asked Kam, staring out across the main thoroughfare of the city, “isn’t that Cornelius running this way?”

“Yes, Sir,” muttered the sniper, taking careful aim, for a moment almost overcome by the temptation of firing.

“And, if I’m not mistaken, those things behind him are……?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Burns once more, ignoring all around him except the rapidly approaching figure looming large in his sights. One thing at a time, he thought ironically to himself.

“Okay. I’m not waiting any longer,” stated Kam calmly, as he checked his newly acquired pistol, “we need to follow Harms right now.”

He stepped through the portal, his eyes closed. When nothing pierced his flesh, he opened them, and jumped back through.

“Clear!” he shouted, and waved frantically at Cornelius, before rushing back into the portal, a grumbling Burns following.

As they stepped through, the world seemed to spin, turn upside down and then suddenly right itself once more. Burns fell to the floor in a daze, an overpowering stench causing him to gag.

Somehow Kam kept his feet, but only for a moment. He heard the crash of the Cornelius hitting the floor and slumped down next to him.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asked, and then, “By the Egg, you stink!”

Cornelius spat to clear his mouth and then swore. Before them was a vast plain of rolling grass, a mosaic of patterns flowing through the vegetation in time with the occasional eddy of the wind. In the distance they could see the outline of a tower, an architecture all too familiar.

*

Grishak knew the Ambryn were close; he could hear their snarling cries and the buzzing of their stubby wings. He continued his run, the portal within his reach. Ahead he saw the back of the diminutive human, he who had speared him, passing through and increased his speed. That was a rematch he eagerly awaited.

With one last gigantic leap he cleared the barrier, his momentum propelling him forwards. A roar of triumph died on his lips as he crashed headlong into a rocky wall, the shock of contact stunning him. Warily he turned, axe in hand to await what he knew would be his final battle.

*

Harms had covered a wide area now, and there was absolutely no doubt; the portal was gone. He had with him the other four troopers, somewhere out there a significant band of Taurans, and he was in an unknown place, with the Prelate only knew what living there. He was screwed.

His decision, although he hated to admit it to himself, had been bad. The whiny little Taartun, Kam, had after all been right. Just about now, he could have done with the local and Burns at his side. Harms would even be satisfied with the annoying Cornelius to bolster his tiny force.

Calling his men together, he picked a line of travel opposite to the Taurans. They needed to find some civilisation and soon.

*

He had waited a long time, watching them throw themselves against the field, but they couldn’t get through. Grishak had tried a few ineffectual swipes of his axe against the barrier, but it had neither hurt them, nor the tenuous field.

Grunting to himself, he had finally turned his back on it, and made his way further into the interior.

SDIV Chapter 14 Part 1

Chapter Fourteen

Ruined City
Zone II

Cornelius was definitely in the shit, both figuratively and actually. The sewerage system had reached a dead end, further rubble had blocked the spillway and light filtered in from a large hole above. Blocks of stone provided what looked like an easy exit, but the three Ambryn which scraped their way into and out of the miasma of detritus made things just a little more difficult. There was no way round them and Cornelius steeled himself for what he must do.

As he moved closer, the creatures shifted, attracted by the sound; one slid into the murky liquid, its tail lashing it forward. It sailed right past Cornelius. It was then he realised that it could not see him. Whether it was poor eyesight or the heady scent masking his position, it worked. He gently released Clari, sending her arrowing for the exit. Passing the uppermost of the beasts, she let fly, charring its scaled head. A scream of pain, and his faithful friend’s bugling challenge, deviated all interest. Cornelius waited no longer.

Both knives free, he lunged. Steel slid easily into the nearest monster’s flesh, cutting deeply. Its reaction was instant, teeth flashing to where it thought the attack had come from. Using his blades as climbing tools, Cornelius stabbed his way upwards, blood quickly disappearing into the turgid depths. The Ambryn now reared, providing him with a stepping stone. Now he was actually on the rubble, scrabbling his way towards the next creature.

Clari wasted no time coming to his aid, her sleek shape arrowing down. Her own teeth, no match for the Ambryn’s still did their work. A snap and she was latched onto one eye. A wrench and she was again in flight, a tasty morsel in her maw. Before a lunging jaw could hook onto her, Cornelius had arrived, his rusty garrotte looping round a thick neck. He threw himself back, the razor-sharp wire slicing deeply.

With a twist, he was free, avoiding the falling body and was on his way. He burst from the hole, Clari in hot pursuit. No monsters awaited him and he quickly took advantage of the nearby cover, his breath sawing and gasping in his throat. The smell of rot and decay was strong here, and it took him a moment to realise that he was the source. Once sure there was nothing else coming out of the hole, he picked his way carefully forward, now and again trying to scrape himself clean against the buildings.

*

“We’re nearly there,” gasped Harms, as they closed on the portal, “the last of the Taurans appear to have disappeared through.”

“How do we know that they won’t be waiting for us?” asked Kam, panting as he tried to keep up with them.

“We don’t!” snapped Harms, “so we’ll go through slowly. I will lead the troopers through, Burns staying with you to cover this side. Once we give the all clear you can follow us.”

“But you don’t know the terrain,” said Kam, “not like I do. Wouldn’t it make more sense …”

“I’m in charge here,” snarled Harms, “and the decision is taken!”

Kam nodded once in acquiescence, Burns watching him closely. For a moment he was sure he saw anger flash across the Taartun’s eyes, quickly masked by his usual inane look, but there nonetheless.

*

Harms halted their party, his hand signals sending the four troopers forward. “Wait here,” he muttered and followed them through, moving quickly into the dense vegetation.

“Now what?” queried Kam petulantly.

“We wait,” said Burns flatly, already having taken up his guard position, scanning the surrounding area through his rifle’s sights.

SD IV Chapter 13 Part 2

First Contact
Unknown Location

Johns looked at his assistant.

“Well?” he asked, as the man switched worriedly between screens.

“Something left that ship, Boss,” he said, “but I get nothing.”

“Spool up the defence systems,” said Johns, patting the man on the shoulder, “if I’ve learnt anything at all over the last months, it’s to trust my instincts.”

“The Bridge is yours,” he said more formally to his second-in-command, “I am going hunting.”

He collected his men and battle suit as he made his way to the hanger and air lock. These suits had been developed for close quarter and terrestrial operations. They could be attached to mobile weapons platforms, which allowed both manoeuvrability and enhanced firepower. No-one could ever think of them as fighters, but Johns knew how effective they could be. Whoever was shooting at them, obviously did not expect much resistance. Johns grinned to himself as he entered the hanger bay and saw his ride waiting for him.

Flagship
Unknown Location

“Wait!”

The voice bubbled and hissed from inside the blackened and armour-clad figure. Bodily fluids, long decayed spluttered from between rotten lips and the Ori unconsciously jerked back from the lumbering figure.

“There is no time,” hissed the first, drawing a plasma pistol, “we dance to a rather different tune I think.”

His final word was punctuated by the hissing stream of energy exiting the pistol’s muzzle. It boiled what little flesh was left in Shan’s creature and melted non-resistant armour. Two others of Shan’s minions lurched into life and met the same fate.

“Fool!” Said the second of the players, “Shan will not forgive this.”

“I think that he may be a little busy. Even so,” fingers danced over the main screen, “I have no intention of remaining to witness his displeasure. It is time to run again.”

There was a terse nod, and both Ori rose, making their way as quickly as they could to the Flagship’s Main Bay. Whilst they collected what little they had of importance, pods trundled on mechanical rails, being lifted and clamped to the side of a sleek yacht. Neither would run empty-handed and they may yet need a little insurance policy.

“Are we ready?”

What had been a rhetorical question became a scream of pain as a blunt object slammed into an unprotected skull.

“Sorry Brother,” muttered one of the Ori, “Someone needs to remain and take the blame.”

Shortly after, a dull black yacht slowly slid into space, its engines igniting briefly and driving it in the opposite direction to the battle taking place close by. With the minimum of calculation, the lone Ori jumped his ship into Fold Space. When Shan returned he would find a semi-conscious victim ready for his sick ministrations. He could replace one of his followers, but a little sport first would surely be to his liking.

First Contact
Unknown Location

“We’re hit!”

Johns heard the cry from the ship and scanned the surrounding area. Energy traces showed from where the attack had come, yet he had no hope of their enemy still being there. Something flashed across his peripheral vision and he reacted, sending out a pod of rockets, whose arcs intersected his hastily estimated enemy’s flight path. There was a flash of intense blue-white light, his visor darkening to protect him, and then he could see one of their attackers. Its stealth capability damaged, the drone turned to attack and Johns waited, eyes flicking for any other movement. His fingers caressed his weapons controls and he grinned in anticipation.

Point-defence guns opened up behind him, thousands of rounds expended as a curtain of hot metal spat towards the oncoming drone. It was effective for lower level missiles, but an intelligent drone easily avoided the onslaught, In return energy weapons flashed, striking the ship and boiling globules of metal into vacuum. Still Johns waited.

The second drone was highlighted by the exhausts of the first’s missiles. Johns fired. SRM’s flashed forward straddling the onrushing drone, but it was the stream of plasma which killed it. A thin whip-like strand covered the rapidly closing distance, draping over the front of the drone for a moment, before it released its potential. The drone was no more.

“Now that’s more like it,” muttered Johns, as he boosted the rockets controlling his mobile gun platform. He aimed at the drone damaged in the initial attack and held his breath briefly, before thumbing his firing button.

“All Hands, all Hands,” Johns heard the clearly pronounced words, “critical system damage will cause an emergency re-entry. Take your Stations...”

“Crap!” Johns was outside and unless he and his men moved quickly, they would be left behind. Death outside the ship, or a good chance of losing their lives within the ship. Great choice.

“Back to the ship!”

His voice was steady and his men responded quickly and efficiently. They had been well trained, Johns hoped that they were lucky with it.

SDIV Chapter 13 Part1

Chapter Thirteen

Kermadec Island
Macaulay
Disputed Zone

Betrayal hurt. Its pain had faded a little and become the uncontrolled rage of a spoilt child. Viker had lost the two closest of his people, yet their relationship had long paled into insignificance in comparison with the sultry allure of his power. Where others had accepted and grown into their power, Viker listened to the kernel that was Marius and sank further into depravity each day.

There was no high ideal any more, and the young man who had idolised Walters had become spiteful and self-indulgent. The throne room around him stank; decaying food and body parts littered the floor and those who now followed him swayed in the ecstasy of their mistaken faith and the influence of the drugs he plied them with. Nothing worked for him; enhanced metabolism eradicated the chemical substances quickly and his drug reliance hung on the Dark Power he wielded.

Word spread quickly and no more frightened refugees flocked to his banner, rather now they ran from his reputation and ravening disciples. His outward appearance changed daily, stained and tainted by blood and excess. Black wings trailed the floor behind him, feathers dropping to join the pile of refuse there.

Power leached from him into his depraved and adoring people, thinning their bone structure and turning them into his mirror image. Long claws sprang wickedly from bent and broken fingers, and their snouts had lengthened revealing twin rows of sharpened teeth. It was long past time to leave, but something still held Viker here. There was nothing left to wait for, yet still he lingered, an almost pathetic hope for salvation slowly being strangled out of existence.

Fold Space
Unknown Location

Fold Space itself trembled in anticipation as Johns and his men drew near. Another point change was occurring and the fabric of reality strained.

“We’re close.”

The statement was meant both as information and a warning. All through the vessel soldiers prepared themselves for what they knew not, but they believed. Johns smiled to himself; he was a seasoned non-commissioned officer and his job had always been to prepare men and women for battle. They feared and respected him, but he was no charismatic leader. That had been the job of both Walters and Viker, now he needed someone else. He just hoped that Alana had found them.

“Transition out of Fold Space in ten...nine...”

It was an ethereal and disembodied voice which echoed Johns’ sombre mood. There would be deaths, that he knew, but it was better to fight for something than rot in the shadow of evil. The old soldier accepted the fact that he and Alana had a duty to redeem Viker, it was a given. That certainty of purpose was tinged with another; the boy would die, and it would not be pleasant.

Their ship shuddered back into reality, alarm klaxons instantly screaming to raucous life. Some things never changed.

Flagship
Unknown Location

The arrival of the ship was clearly unexpected. Rogue Ori and sycophantic adherents of the Game, were the only ones who knew of rendezvous points throughout the Urionverse. No-one, except the Game players themselves knew of this location. It had been a shock when Shan arrived. This, however, was clear grounds for heart failure. An unknown vessel in unscheduled contact with the Flagship could only mean one thing.

“Deploy the drones.”

Shan was occupied elsewhere and old habits die hard.

“What about them,” one of the Ori indicated Shan’s reeking followers whose bodies rotted quietly in their Master’s absence.

“They are nothing but putrescent vessels,” replied his only conscious compatriot, “ignore them.”

Corrupt, diseased and psychopathically loyal, Shan’ followers listened, and waited for instructions.

*

Hanger bay doors opened, allowing the sleek attack drones to spear out into the darkness. Their matt-black colouration made them almost invisible to the naked eye, and sophisticated stealth technology took care of their thermal profile. These too had been stolen, and were tools of last resort. At the time of their acquisition from a Protectorate Research Facility, they had only been seen as a precaution. Today, that whimsy had been proven right.

Quickly the eight craft took up a twin diamond formation and followed their instructed attack pattern.

SD IV Chapter 12 Part 2

Grishak had let his fellow survivors draw the beasts on. A lust for blood seemed to cloud all other senses, for which he was thankful. They were soon past and he followed warily, perhaps they could take care of the Church scum too?

*

“Why aren’t you shooting?” Harms asked, as Cornelius used one of his knives as a pedicure tool.

“Even I can see that they are running from something," said Butt, disdainfully,"they couldn’t care less about us.”

The Sargeant saw what Cornelius meant, there had been a brief skirmish, but once past the Taurans had kept right on running. Weapons and packs had been dropped in haste and to increase velocity.

“Shit!”

Cornelius’ exclamation was echoed by the crack of an auto-rifle.

“What…”

Harms’ question died almost as soon as it was born. The Ambryn stole his power of speech and reminded him of why he had suffered those nightmares.

*

Cornelius’ shock caused little delay in his response and less in Clari’s anger. He could have done with a little more air, her tail squeezing his windpipe. One quick slap to her head and a soothing pat and all was well with the world. Butt punched the nearest soldier, wresting an auto-rifle from nerveless fingers. Quickly the weapon was live, spitting jacketed slugs into the body of the nearest monster. Red blood and fragments of flesh were his reward and he grinned savagely.

“Fire at will!” screamed Harms, his actions mirroring his words.

The front line of Ambryn stopped dead, as disciplined fire settled the soldiers. Pace by pace, they backed away from the slithering and hissing mass.

“How far are we from the portal?” gasped Cornelius.

“Too far,” muttered Harms, reloading.

“Ah well,” grinned Butt, starting to run towards the creatures, “then the only way is forward!”

His actions surprised not only his own companions, but the Ambryn themselves. He dropped his rifle, lowered his head and charged. The spiked helmet crunched into one monster, the force snapping one strap. With a curse, Cornelius left it buried in its body as Clari burned through the face of another. None followed him and soon he was lost amongst the sinuous forms.

“Forget him!” screamed Harms, “Retreat!”

There was no ordered retreat, all turned and ran, following the path recently taken by the Taurans. To their surprise, the Ambryn did not follow, but turned snapping and snarling to deal with the diminutive warrior.

*

“We’re fucked!”

Cornelius was talking to Clari, but more out of comfort than expectation of a reply. A sweeping tail drove him to his knees and saved his life. The blood and gore splattered over his body helped, making it impossible for the Ambryn to gain a hold with their weak limbs. Their larger body mass pushed him through, slipping and sliding. His knives continued their bloody work, and Clari’s corrosive breath made sure the Ambryn’s rage did not lessen.

Five of the creatures piled upon him, the floor collapsing suddenly as one of the derelict buildings gave way. Cornelius dropped into what must have been a sewer, the stench testifying to its original use. The pipe sloped down and Cornelius followed.

He could hear the Ambryn behind him, but did not stop to see how many there were or how close they might be. With a gulp of foetid air for luck, he dove down into the awful muck and tried his best to swim.

*

Grishak watched from cover as the small human charged his enemies. If nothing else, he had to admit that one had courage. When the building collapsed on top of the Ambryn, he sighed. His job was done as far as this warrior was concerned. Now he needed to focus on finding his cowardly brethren and killing the rest of the Church soldiers.

It somehow seemed less of a challenge. Without the small one, things would be just too easy.

SDIV - Chapter Eight Part 2

Spaceport
Kermadec Island
Macaulay
Disputed Zone


“Get them on board Sargeant.”

Johns had discarded his armour, swapping the suit for a worn green uniform. His men moved their volunteers on board, a mixture of green troops and veterans. He had chosen his people personally, no mistakes would be forgiven on this voyage. The second most powerful man on Macaulay breathed in deeply, slapped his Sargeant on the shoulder and laughed loudly. This was more like it. Viker could stay here with his new-found pleasure and sycophants, Johns craved war. A growl bubbled at the back of his throat, a familiar sound he thought gone forever. Perhaps things were finally beginning to look up. As he heard the ramp lifting , he wondered where Alana was, and what she was doing. He could have done with her by his side.

Flagship
Unknown Location

“So, how does this work?”

Shan looked puzzled. Each of the screens was extremely complex, a mix of virtual holographic technology, hard screen and table-top map-ware. The planet was divided into zones which contained their own habitat and microclimate. Troops were highlighted in one colour, non-combatants in another. Information scrolled on disposition, weapons, life signs, aptitude, power bonuses and risk.

“Games begin simply, usually in one zone. Players then can draft in further troops depending upon strict rules. You can see here how a game develops.”

The Ori flicked his fingers over a virtual keyboard, setting in motion a simulation of a Game.

“This is one of the most famous of Games. It decimated a world, causing the financial ruin of two houses and the virtual annihilation of breeding stock. It is how my family ultimately decided that they were the only true exponents and deserved to own and run the Game as they wished to do so.”

"You lost then,” laughed Shan, “how appropriate.” He waved his hand around the Control Room,

“Now, show me how...”

“We’ve already stated...aargh!”

“Not listening. This is now my Game. I want to play right now.”

His finger hovered over a rune, “What does this one do?”

“No!” screamed the Ori as the signal was sent.

*

Within the bowels of the Flagship, relays clicked and whined as nine non-descript pods began a short journey. Fluid was drained in the process, electronic stimuli shuddering through eight slumbering bodies. The ninth held a being who merely smiled, flexing wrinkled appendages and baring teeth in anticipation. Soon, it would be time to live again.

Alana stirred, chemicals rapidly being evacuated from her body as her enhanced metabolism kicked in. As she woke, so too did her suit, her HUD flickering into solidity and feeding data directly to her starved senses. Before she could formulate a plan the pods rocked to a stop, energy build-up causing them to oscillate in anticipation. With a huge surge they were expelled from the ship, curving away slightly, before heading for the planet’s surface.

Fold Space
Unknown Location

Johns checked the read out again, they had been travelling for what seemed an eternity, but time was deceptive within the vortex of folded space. He knew where they were going, his senses still attuned to his ex-squad member. Whatever Viker had conjured, Alana somehow called to him. His initial thought was to follow the Construct’s destructive trail, but deep down he knew it was wrong. Those on board with him believed more in Johns than they did in their once angelic Lord. He trusted them to do the right thing and he knew that following Alana and her people was important.

“How much longer, Sir?”

It was a valid question and he knew one all shared.

“Soon,” he said, “very soon.”

SDIV - Chapter Eight Part 1

Flagship
Unknown Location

Mechanical interlocking transit ways moved the drop pods along. They snaked their way to the allocated bay, set aside for them. Above each of the reserved slots a rune flashed brightly in a pale green light, until the pod docked. With an escape of steam and a resounding clunk, each individual pod bedded into its receiver, actuating relays which initiated the stasis rods waiting calmly for their charges. Thin sleeves of metal moved smoothly out, mating with the recessed plugs in the outer shell of the pod’s casing. Fluid hissed through the new couplings, filling an inner series of veins and maintaining the pod’s charges at an optimum level.

Seven of the eight pods acted as expected, the eighth waited a moment, gurgling in protest before it too showed green lights across the board. Inside the eighth pod Alana dreamed, her body jerking in feverish activity.

Red eyes glinted from the shadows near to the new arrivals. A wrinkled hand reached out and caressed Alana’s pod, soon it was followed by a hunched figure who withdrew a tool from inside its outer garment. Shrill, warbling sound broke into the monotone repetition of functioning equipment. One more pod moved into place, making the group nine, yet not registering as such on the main console. With a chuckle the tool was replaced and the figure climbed inside his own temporary tomb, calm in the knowledge that he would be accompanying the new arrivals on their next journey. That, or his alarms would be triggered and he would be shunted aside, to waken once more. He had done this many times before.

Kermadec Island
Macaulay
Disputed Zone

Viker yawned. He changed his mind like the wind, and had decided that it was necessary to stay a little longer. More people had flocked in from outlying regions and he ruthlessly culled them; the young and virile were segregated, mostly, and indoctrinated into his army of followers. Others were used as target practice or to satisfy the burgeoning excesses of chosen officers. Only Johns remained aloof, working hard to mould the new soldiery into an effective fighting force. At times, Viker wondered who he was doing it for, but his old mentor showed nothing but faith and belief in his Lord. More fool him.

Languidly, Viker rose from his makeshift throne, stretching his wings and scratching his crotch. He spat, ignoring where his spittle would land. No-one would raise a voice in protest. A line of stone-faced guards waited for him outside the room, falling in behind as he sauntered in search of some amusement.

“My Lord!”

“What now, Johns?” he asked.

“We have word of the Beast.”

For a moment, the only beast that Viker could think about was that which curled hidden within him, but then he remembered having coined the name for the possessed Construct.

“What of it?”

“It has halted. Spindle appears to be its destination.”

“Asmode’s Lair? How trite,” said Viker dismissively, “we received information on that location before our failed attempt to destroy it last time. What could it possibly want there?”

“I believe that we need to go and find out,” suggested Johns, awaiting his Lord’s displeasure.

“You go,” said Viker, “take some troops with you and find out what’s going on. I have work still to do here.”

“Yes, My Lord,” said Johns, “at once.”

With a wave of his hands, Viker quickly forgot about Johns; there were some new arrivals from the country and he was sure to find at least one buxom wench to satisfy him.

Surprise, surprise

More interesting facts, and this time about sales. Since starting at the turn of the year with self-publishing I have had varying success with "sales". Publishing to Amazon seemed a huge step originally and so I first published via Smashwords. Hey, you got distributed to all those other channels so it had to be better, no? Well, guess what, the answer is NO. Right now, and only from my personal experience, the answer is that the potential market via Amazon is an order of magnitude better than anything else. Whether it's due to already ingrained purchasing habits, the kindle or ease of navegation, I don't know. All I do know is that the difference has been huge up until now.

That was Lesson One. The time it takes for some form of recognition is Lesson Two and I'm still working on that. Seven months on and I have just had my first Kobo Sales. In terms of ranking as a distribution channel I have the following list:

1. Amazon
2. Smashwords
3. Sony
4. Barnes and Noble
5. Apple (this is skewed as they do not show FREE sales and I had two books in the FREE top 100 this month).
6. Kobo
7. The rest ( and here I mean Diesel)

As I say interesting. The trend is still positive which I count as a good thing. Two more books to be published before year end is my target, and I am still on track...honest!

Watch this space...

Some Interesting Facts

As more people visit the site, join up on networked blogs or add themselves to the eMail list, analysis of verious blog statistics has some meaning. In fact the most interesting, for me anyway, is where various traffic comes from.

To give you all an idea, and if we talk about ALL visits since the blog was started, visitor country ranking is a follows:

1. United States
2. Spain
3. UK
4. Holland
5. Russia
6. Germany
7. Iran
8. Canada
9. Brazil
10. Poland

If we just look at this week then we have:

1. United States
2. Germany
3. Malaysia
4. Bielorussia
5. Spain
6. UK
7. India

These countries are those with significant visits, and it's good to see such a big spread geographically. Mind you, I must admit that I was surprised at some of the new entries in the charts. More to follow as I learn how to find the information.

Watch this space...

The Power of being FREE

It is a theme which I keep touching on, but since being touched by the Amazon phenomenon it has really interested me. From a small fanbase to 10,000 "sales" in two months, seems rather surreal, but that is the reality of Kindle. Now these are FREE sales I know, but as an advertising tool invaluable. No matter which guru of publishing you talk to, read, or listen to, word-of-mouth is still a huge marketing channel. Right now, there are 10,000 (or any combination of that number) more people with a copy of one of my novels or short stories.

Well, I hear you say, they might not like your work and will give you a poor review, but Im not so sure. No, let me explain, I'm not egotistical enough to think that everyone likes my stuff, nor thinks it's perfect or couldn't do with being used as kindling. Nope, what I mean is that you have to raise passion of one sort or another in a person for them to give a review, and that's good. The majority will NOT review. How many of us buy a book in the shop, or online and write a review on it for others? A minority of us is the truth. This does not mean that we liked or loathed it any less, but we are more likely to tell somebody else about it in conversation or on a forum, rather than write a review.

When I write a review, I do so in my own way. I don't point out typo's, or whether the author has the correct POV or could improve their writing craft. Rather, I say whether I liked it or not and why. I do give a warning to those who ask me for a review, saying exactly that. I have seen too many reviews given which spark a food-fight, and to be honest, in that case it's better that the author neither asks for a review nor the reader gives it.

Getting back to the theme of this blogpost - I like FREE, in fact all of my short stories are free on one or other of the main distribution channels. I intend, for now, to keep it that way. If you want, tell a friend about them, and keep checking here as there will be new work available real soon.

Watch this space...

Free on Kindle - How do they know?

I have no qualms posting this very pushy button (no pun intended) as AKnC remains FREE on Amazon.com. Latest statistics, after just over an hour, are 3000 downloads more or less. Great exposure for this and other works of mine.

In an effort to see how the information on AKnC was disseminated, i.e. the fact it had been made FREE, I went surfing. It's amazing the number of linked sites which pass on this information. All of them, rightfully so if they haven't read any of the works, add a disclaimer giving no guarantee of quality. Others clearly point out "real" publishers and those independent guys and gals, even capitalizing the word to make sure no-one misses the fact. Not sure what that means - perhaps that we are more important, with a capital I of course.

Tags and genre labels don't seem to translate well with auto-generation and I've seen some great (without a capital G) examples of this. However I can't, or at least shouldn't complain, as AKnC has reached number 39 in the Kindle Free Charts in just over a day. I eagerly await what happens next.

Watch this space....

FREE - Does Amazon Love me?

It's a question I have to ask as Amazon.com has now made A Knight's Charge FREE. This time there was no warning eMail, just the surprise of 400 downloads when I checked this morning!

Now, I'm not sure whether someone let them know of the fact that AKnC was free on other Distribution Channels, or they just decided to kindly give me a boost, but I'm not complaining. Unfortunately it is not FREE on Amazon.co.uk yet, but I will keep checking.

Whatever happens, it helps to give my other work exposure and hopefully it will continue to generate other sales. You will probably notice that I'm not complaining.

Watch this space...

Pricing - Decisions, decisions...

I said pricing, not piercing, although they probably do have something in common. The decision about whether to get body art or even which price point to go for takes time, the quellng of fear and of course the worry about what people think. Now, at eighteen it is so-o-o-o much easier to make that decision - F*$k 'em, I'm a rebel. Now though...well yeah, I'm still a rebel.

Many people ask why, or even look down upon work which is priced at 99p or 99c. It must be crap, right? If it was any good you'd be able to sell it for 6.99 at least. Personally I don't think it follows - the logic that a book priced at 6.99 is SEVEN times better than one that is FREE or costs just 99c doesn't wash. I am sure we can all point to expensive books that we thought were not worth 1c, and equally the other end of the scale applies.

So, I've decided to price my books how I like, and I reserve the right to change my mind whenever I feel like it. Right now all my short stories are free ;P, you just need to know where to look. Remember now "f*$k 'em. I'm a rebel!"

Blogs and Marketing

As I swim through the murky waters of book marketing, I see all sorts of advice, ideas and schemes to sell more books. There are a number of people who claim to sell immense quantities of books and yet without direct knowledge, we can only take their word. Now I am not here talking about the well-publicised small number who clearly do have large sales, share their numbers and are even snapped up belatedly by the majors. Forum threads talk of 5K this month, 120K so far this year...join the club, and especially my fellowship...you've no doubt seen the same threads.

There are author tagging threads, author mutual blog following, twittering and facebook fan pages. Tagging is something claimed to generate sales by increased public awareness. Mutual blogging gets your feed seen and potentially more feet crossing your threshold, as does the joint liking and subscription to FB Fan pages and Groups.

Me, and I readily admit this, I am linked to a lot of FB Groups and pages and the truth is that I only really take notice of the comments and posts of nine or ten. This must mean that I am not fulfilling my marketing potential, as does my brief dabble into the Tagging foray on Amazon. To be truthful the biggest impact on and exposure to me was via the Amazon free offer of A Guiding Light. This has now ended, but if Amazon is listening, The Wildwose is still free on Smashwords and Apple!

So, what have I done? I have gone back to my trusted and favourite forums, decided to start my own review thread and continued to write, posting excerpts from my work. I think that this slow and steady approach will help to build and satisfy those who like my work whilst removing the franctic stress caused by trying too hard. Oh, and don't forget Amazon...Wildwose, free on Smashwords and iBooks.

Watch this space...