SDIV El Juego Chapter 21 Part 2

Burns had retreated to higher ground, dragging a protesting Kam with them. Sir Frederic trailed along behind, his sword dragging uselessly in the dirt. His world, and his own perceptions of it, had been crudely shattered. Magic was merely a word, what he had witnessed today was more than that.

“What is he doing?” asked Kam as he watched Cornelius and Ngulu settle quietly amidst the falling debris.

“How would we know?” Burns replied with his own question, “Is he even human anymore?”

“He wasn’t exactly human before,” joked Kam, “just a little more recognisable as an associated species.”

“True,” agreed Burns, “anger and madness follow him around. This however…”

“Not human?” interrupted Sir Frederic, his grip tightening on his sword with purpose.

“Slow down there,” said Burns, “it’s a figure of speech, or rather it was. I am not exactly sure what he is right now. Whatever it is appears to be on our side. Let’s just hope it stays that way.”

“What the…?

Burns had been watching the drop pods and he gasped in horror as they split apart, revealing their horrid cargo.

“Not again,” snarled Burns, raising his rifle.

“Come on Cornelius,” whispered Kam, “do something!”

*

Butt laughed as he saw the creatures appear. He would wait a short while, in order to give them a fair chance. Their life energies would feed him and his steed, and it would be better to let them recover before slaughtering them all.

Ngulu recognised the Ambryn. They were a plague which multiplied unchecked wherever they were found. Previously, one of his masters had seeded a world with Ambryn, just to see what they would do. Once the animals had eaten all of the resident wildlife, including humans, they had turned on each other. It was then that Ngulu’s master had sent in his own troops. Blooding new warriors was an important part of training, and Ngulu had welcomed the opportunity. During the exercise though, he had learnt a healthy respect for the Ambryn. They died, as did all things, but leave just one or two, and you soon had a reinfestation. Like any plague, it must be eradicated totally.

As if in silent agreement, flames curled once more around his new Master’s figure, the overflow causing Ngulu to yelp in surprise. He flexed his claws and bunched his thigh muscles, as Cornelius incinerated the first of his foes.

SDIV El Juego Chapter 21 Part1

Chapter Twenty One

Cemetary Plain
Zone III

Shan was scared, and for a monstrosity like him, that was worrying indeed. He could not shake Cornelius no matter how hard he tried, and desperation began to seep into his bones. Thumbing his communicator, he called the control centre.

“Are you there?”

“Of course,” came the reply, a sneer apparent in the Ori’s voice.

“I need a distraction,” snarled Shan.

“Don’t we all?” asked the Ori, his voice slurred by his lack of teeth.

“Enough!” snapped Shan, “this errant player has just skirted past the bottom rung on the demi-god ladder. Send me reinforcements.”

“All we have are the Ambryn,” replied the Ori, “and they are busy eating what’s left of your last game piece. We do have a few more in stasis…”

“I don´t care,” gasped Shan, jinking his fighter to one side as a ball of flames whistled past, “throw them into the fray, and I mean literally.”

“Your wish is my command…drop-pods deployed…right on your position!”

The Ori was not joking! He had fired the drop pods from the ship straight down Shan’s throat. He was not even sure the Ambryn would survive, but that was none of his concern. A quick look at his scanners saw Ngulu breaking away, desperately trying to avoid the rain of fiery missiles.

Shan gunned his engines, putting his own safety first. These Ambryn would eat their way through this zone and the next. If he managed to survive this encounter, he could torch and rebuild. Right now though, escape from the rampaging dwarf was his only thought.

*

Voices continued to intrude on Cornelius’ thoughts, this time though, they did not have the sweet insistence of Clari. Instead they hissed, snarled and hungered. Whatever was in those drop pods yearned to be free, to eat, fight, kill and consume. In his altered state, Cornelius felt no fear. Rather, he saw the problem as an inconvenience to be dealt with quickly, before he continued with his pursuit of the now rapidly receding fighter.

“Down!” he commanded Ngulu, and the demon obeyed, folding its wings and plummeted towards the ground.

Drop pods slammed to earth all around, yet none struck Cornelius and his ride. Of his companions there was no sign and Cornelius dismissed them from his mind. He felt Ngulu’s rage and battle madness and revelled in its dark majesty. Killing was an outlet for his own anger, and this promised rich fare.

SDIV El Juego Chapter 20 Part 2

Lucretia smirked at her sister, who even now was feeding, the slurping and sucking was such sweet music to her ears. Two thin trails of blood ran from her mouth, spots patterning her blouse where they had fallen.

It had been an unexpectedly profitable day; their flight from the last town had been precipitous to say the least. Locals could be so pedantic in their beliefs, imagine, they had thought that she would wait for their justice.

She laughed wryly, and shouldered her sister aside, who snarled at her, but gave way. Whoever these new humans were, they tasted good, not like the insipid villagers from their last stop. Her mentor had told her that this world held a bounty of delicacies to tickle the palate and she had been surprisingly pleased to find out that he had been right. His recent arrival had interrupted their excesses, and his chastisement had been less than welcome.

He looked good. His recent sojourn on the flagship seemed to signal a kind of rebirth and Lucretia had been tempted to keep him, if only for a moment. Mammon was such a dear, and so easy to take advantage of. He actually believed her excuses and tried to talk to the villagers for her. Idiot.

Such a shame that he had been caught, helping their escape. Of course, the fact that she had shot him the back, physically rather than metaphorically, as he faced their pursuers had of course little to do with it. The quarrelled bolt had actually punched through his hand, pinning him to a tree and he roared his anger and desperation to the skies in such a delightful way. That too had been entertaining though.

She decided to have a little nap and lay down next to the rapidly cooling body of Sargeant Harms. There was so much to look forward to, a bounteous feast would be held once the sun fell and then there were other pleasures to be had with her minions.

*

Mammon was angry; in a towering rage, not only because of Lucretia’s betrayal, but also because he had needed to kill a useful food source. She would pay, of that he was sure, he thought, feeling the bulk of the transmitter in his pocket. Only he knew how the portals could be opened; a thing he had done regularly on his previous visit here. That a beautiful girl and her sister should have captivated him so, after all of these centuries, was laughable. That was, if he could only admit it, a pattern of his, which all of his brethren took advantage of.

It was on a previous jaunt to the planet that he had found this place, and he constantly came back, replenishing himself. After his close call with Alana, he made straight for the comforting arms of his girls. Time seemed to have brought out their true characters. Demons were just so fickle.

That was of course the reason he told himself, but deep down, the savage beast within him wanted to rend and tear, so repaying the disloyalty and removing the evidence of his mistake. He shook his head, driving the reverie away and stopped, breathing in deeply, tasting the night air.

Silently, he advanced; he was close now, the smell of freshly spilt blood, mixed with something fouler drew him on. Vengeance was a dish best served cold, but he had always thought it tasted better hot and steaming. Blood was blood, after all.

*

Renard never heard a thing, death came upon him unexpectedly, yet he did not miss experiencing it. A pair of strong hands closed about his neck, lifting him easily off the floor. He managed a choked gasp, as he was swung around, his foot lashing out reflexively. It felt as though he had slammed his boot into a solid post, and he silently screamed. His training kicked in and he drew his combat knife, his vision even now blurring as his oxygen-starved brain began shutting down. With an ultimate expenditure of energy, he stabbed into the body before him, wondering why there was no sound.

With a crack, Mammon snapped Renard’s neck and tossed his limp body to the floor. He glanced disdainfully at the knife, sliding it free from his chest and stood for a moment listening carefully. All was well, he thought, as he wiped the blade on Renard’s tunic. Then knife in hand, he stalked his next prey, the rush of anticipation filling him.

*

Lucretia woke, her hunger fierce and called out for her minions. Her only reply was silence, so she tried again. Cursing them and spitting forth a venous tirade of what pain she would inflict on them for their lethargy of reply, she pulled by the rear covering. A fist exploded into her face, the strength of the blow throwing half way across the wagon bed.

“Mammon!” she cried in fear.

 
“Yes, my love,” he replied, climbing slowly inside, “we have some unfinished business I believe?”

He pulled the flap closed behind him, as he climbed into the wagon, and shortly afterwards the screaming began.

*

Llorente was the only one of his companions left alive, for some reason the ravening beast, the abomination who had attacked the camp had spared him. A face from hell itself had stared icily into his eyes, fangs glistening with recently spilt blood and then had moved away.

There could only be one fate left for him, and so he began to pray. He called to the Prelate, to the Taurans’ Demons, to anyone who would listen. Nothing.

The animalistic cries from the wagon, the heaving of its sides, all had ceased. He saw something appear from behind the rear wheels and he began to plead, in a childish and plaintively whimpering voice. Still on it came, teeth bared, eyes bloodshot, and it was smiling.

SDIV El Juego Chapter 20 Part 1

Chapter Twenty

Emerald Forest
Zone I

Harms and his men were spaced out evenly to the rear of the Taurans, they had managed to take out the various sentries positioned around their position and now they waited. Their level of weaponry was greatly improved by their impromptu shopping spree, although the Tauran troopers seemed to take little pride in their equipment. Irrespective of this fact, Harms felt better than he had done in a while and they were as ready as they were ever going to be.

Movement stirred the soldiers below and from further along the trail they heard voices raised in song. Slowly the caravan came into view; two Knights at the front, pennants flying gaily in the light breeze. There were another two at the rear of the column and a group of mail-shirted soldiers to either side of the two wagons, in the centre.

Whatever was within the wagons must be important, to merit such an honour guard. Harms’ eyes narrowed, as the order was given and the Taurans charged. His urgent hand signals were obeyed instantly and he and his men moved forward, flitting from cover to cover, always keeping the enemy soldiers in sight.

As they reached the edge of the woodland, they saw two of the Knights down and those at the rear charging. The soldiers had formed a protective cordon around the wagons but they died uselessly, unable to do little more than receive the incoming fire.

With a curt chopping motion of his hand he opened fire, the disciplined volley from his men punching into the rear of the Taurans, taking them completely by surprise. Quickly they regrouped, half of their forces splitting off from their unprovoked attack and concentrating their fire on Harms and his men.

Dividing their forces proved their undoing as the two Knights crashed into their rear, bowling a number of them over. Seeing the change in fortune, the mail-shirted troops charged, their swords ripping into the disoriented troopers.

Harms and his men moved down to the road, their rate of fire never slacking and it began to take its toll. With a shout of “Close quarters”, Harms dragged his knife free and leapt into the fray. He blocked his first opponent’s attack with his forearm, slicing his blade across the Tauran’s stomach. He heard the crunch of a descending rifle butt and continued on his way. There were a small knot of Taurans who had closed upon the wagons and he powered forward, his shoulder slamming into the rearmost of them.

He cried out as he felt the cut of a blade across his back and span, his booted foot connecting solidly. Grabbing the back of the Tauran’s neck, he rammed his knee upwards and was rewarded with a satisfying spurt of blood. His forgotten rifle slapped against his thigh and he swung it forward, burying its muzzle into the soldier's body and pulling the trigger.

In a brief moment of respite, he looked around and it was then he felt the crushing blow to his ribs and darkness closed in.

*

Harms was dead, of that he was sure; a coolness caressed his forehead and opening his eyes he stared directly into the face of an angel. She smiled; perfect teeth in a cherry-lipped mouth. Her lips parted, she bent down and he thrilled with the expectation of the kiss, his body unconsciously stirring in response to the beauty before him.

I must be in one of the wagons, he thought, looking past her. The thick canvas let diffuse light through, framing her head in a nimbus of understated light. Relaxing, he felt the touch of her lips against his forehead, the tip of his nose and then his throat. Blood surged through his veins, his pulse pounding in his head and he waited.

The brush of her lips was unusually cold, numbing at the point of contact. Then came the pain as she bit savagely into his flesh. He struggled, writhing and thrashing in desperation, determined to break free. It was no use, his arms and legs were firmly bound and he watched helplessly as the bloodstained mouth rose once more into his line of sight. A short pink tongue swiped across the now savage fangs and she hissed in pleasure. Slowly she bent once more, and fed.

*

Llorente shuddered as he heard the Sargeant scream again, a long drawn-out cry of pain. There was nothing that they could do, they had been roughly tied together, a sharpened pole hammered into the ground between them. Arms were stretched backwards to breaking point, their weapons had been seized after the surprise attack. At least Renard had gotten away, killing one of the soldiers in the struggle and disappearing into the forest.

It was a forlorn hope, that of escape, night was closing in and he knew he was next. The soldiers had graphically described their fate, grinning in anticipation of the pain and suffering to follow.

*

Renard watched from the shadows, wincing with each scream, thankfully the volume was weakening and he knew what that meant. There was little or no chance of saving the Sargeant, but maybe, just maybe he could do something about the others.

Crawling forward slowly, he approached the edge of the forest. Llorente was the closest, his back towards the wagons. One thing Renard knew for sure was that he did not want to be alone here, come nightfall.

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.

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SDIV El Juego Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Kermadec Island

Macaulay

Disputed Zone

Viker looked at his creatures in disgust. He had started this shining with light, pure and with good intention. Even his action to save Marius was done out of pity, yet it became his weakness and downfall. The insidious nature of that which Marius had become twisted and turned inside Viker’s mind. Whispers showed him new games, tortures and debaucheries and Viker was unable to refuse these persistent urges.

Indulging himself served to occupy him for a while, but it was not enough. He needed more. Viker was torn between following his rebellious troops or continuing on his way. The truth be told, neither really appealed to him, although vengeance was always a palatable dish. In the end, it was his mutations who decided him. They now mirrored his own image, dark wings sprouting to complement their hideous deformations. He himself retained his ethereal good looks, although the darkness left reminders of its touch.

If I am a God, thought Viker, then these must be my Angels. Yes, he laughed, I like that...

*

Viker’s Angels did no good deed, they excelled in the opposite. Forges were lit and weapons beaten into new shapes. Rifles and ammunition were collected and ferried to those craft chosen to carry them on their crusade. There were sacrifices, too many to count. Vats full of blood were carried to christen ships, arms and men. Body parts were used in other vile ceremonies, all in Viker’s name. His reputation had attracted the dregs of society, fringe religions and the insane. Now his Angels took their worship of their God to new heights, and Viker sucked in the proffered power greedily.

Finally they were ready, and ships lifted from Macauley. They were sluggish, reflecting the inexperience of their crews and the nature of their new Master. Emblazoned in red on the side of each craft were a pair of bloody wings. It was both a tribute and a message.

One by one, the ships jumped into Fold Space. Only Viker knew their real destination, and he grinned at the surprise he knew he would bring with his unannounced visit. A feeble part of his old self rebelled for one brief moment, before he cruelly snuffed it out. Dark piteous eyes gazed into the variegated hell that was Fold Space. He loved visiting old friends, and it had been so long since he had last seen them. Well, he would fix that right now.

First Contact
Unknown Location

Johns was torn between prayer and laughter. Their journey to earth had been nothing more than a partially-controlled dive, and he was surprised to be alive. His reinforced armour was a deciding factor, that and the braking jets. Location beacons had been deployed as a procedural event, but Johns held out little hope for aid. Alana was here, yet her predicament seemed no better than his own.

“Form on me!” he shouted, watching the remnants of his people struggle to their feet. It was pitiful.

“We need to move,” he said calmly, “Alana needs our help…”

Laughter greeted his weak joke, and he sent two of his armoured companions ahead as scouts, watching as the rest formed a rough perimeter around the survivors. They were all armed, yet he was anxious at their vulnerability. Long ago he learnt to trust those instincts imparted by his contact with Colonel Walters. Something just did not feel right.
Movement in the distance drew his attention, his HUD zooming in on reflex. The bright spark of plasma fire in the sky gave him his new bearing. If she was anywhere, he thought, Alana would be amongst the thick of battle. She loved to fly. Add to that the possibility of killing something, and she would always be the first to the party.

Cursed Hills
Zone IV

“New contacts!”

Alana heard Shin and rolled to avoid the swipe of a clawed hand. She unleashed a burst of fire and grunted in satisfaction as the demon’s wings disintegrated. The flashing icon on her HUD indicated direction and then the blue of friendly forces. She redirected her signal and boosted the power to her communications set.

“Johns, you old fart,” she screamed, “is that you?”

“Present and correct,” laughed Johns, “we’re on our way to pull you out of yet another shit-fight…”

“Of course,” she agreed sarcastically, “just tell your boys and girls that the ones to shoot at have red skins, tails and wings. We´re the good guys.”

“I see others,” said Johns, his voice becoming clearer as he approached.

“Enemy of my enemy, Johns,” she replied, “know what I mean?”

“Loud and clear, Alana,” said Johns, “we´ll be with you in five.”

“All of you,” she asked, puzzled as the group of contacts began to spread out.

“Naw,” he said and she could hear his head shake in her mind, “just Recon….”

Alana laughed as a compact group streaked towards her, reinforcements always helped.

SDIV El Juego Chapter 18 Part 3

Harms quickly found the rest of his men. However they had not had enough time to find their own weapons. Instead they were armed with knives and swords and found themselves hunted, the cries of their pursuers ringing through the wooded area.

The only way he could see that they could upgrade their armoury now was to find the Tauran troops, taking what they needed by force. However, the first thing that they had to do was lose their pursuers.

He signalled a halt, indicating that his men took refuge in some dense undergrowth. They had not long to wait, their new enemies had to at least follow them on foot, the Knights finding it impossible to follow on their horses. This to some extent had reduced the armoured men’s advantage, but not by much.

A group of four or five soldiers passed by, beating the surrounding bushes with the flat of their swords and making a lot of noise. It seemed as though they were more used to hunting game than men and Harms smiled. For once, they would find that their prey had teeth.

As the last of them passed by, he slipped from cover, silently stalking his man. He covered the distance separating them in a silent run, his knee slamming into the man’s back as his hand covered his mouth. Almost simultaneously he slipped his blade between the man’s ribs and then gently lowered the corpse to the floor. Nodding to Renard, he moved forwards; they now had become the hunters.

*

Harms led his men forwards, dispatching silently any opposition as they closed on the main body of Taurans. They had almost stumbled into the larger and superior force as Harms had pressed them too much. His eagerness to get away from the armoured Knights was nearly their downfall.

“They’re not moving,” whispered Llorente, without taking his eyes of the soldiers who were semi-hidden by the trees, “they seem to be waiting for something.”

“Where’s Renard?” asked Harms, unable to see the stocky trooper amongst the shaded vegetation.

“He went to see what he could find,” grinned Llorente, “he said he was getting a little bit bored just waiting around.”

“I’ll skin him …” cursed Harms, but Llorente’s frantic signalling, caused him to bite off the rest of his comment in mid-flow.

“There he is,” whispered Llorente, “it looks as though he's found something.”

Renard slipped back into cover, a rifle hung over his shoulder and another clasped in his hands.

Harms thought about reprimanding him, but he felt a surge of elation at the sight of the rifles, “Any chance of some more?” he asked eagerly.

Renard nodded, “I had to leave a couple, this was all that I could carry.”

“Well done,” congratulated Harms, taking one of the weapons from him, “this is more like it!”