War Wagon

by Al Shield

  ‘In lieu of a better idea, you may.’ Dar'kannag spoke. ‘But at the first sign of trouble, Nex will finish them. Do not get in her line of sight.’

  She grinned at the thought as she cradled her beloved rifle, just waiting for the moment.

  ‘SPEAKER, I HEAR YOU and I am coming out.’ A voice called from the building. ‘I would ask that you lower your weapons.’

  The men all looked at Sheriff Johns who nodded.

  ‘Just keep them handy’ he said quietly and he thumbed the switch on the megaphone. ‘Our weapons have been lowered, step forward slowly with your hands above your head.’

  The man complied and walked out of swinging bar doors slowly with his hands held high.

  ‘That’s Rosso’ Davis recognising him from his position camped behind the rear of the cruiser. ‘I booked him last year for speeding.’

  ‘Rosso, what the happened here? Is there anyone injured in there.’ Johns called through the megaphone.

  A confused look appeared on Rosso’s face before K’Dian realised he was being addressed by the creature’s name. He hadn’t bothered to find it out before he killed him.

  ‘Yes I am Rosso!’ he called back.

  ‘Are you alone? Is there anyone in the building behind you?’

  ‘I am Rosso and I am alone.’

  A suspicious look came across Davis’s face.

  ‘Is he on something?’ he whispered.

  ‘Possibly. He doesn’t seem that shaken up standing in the middle of a warzone’ Johns replied quietly enough to not be picked up by the megaphone.

  ‘Are you injured?’ he called out.

  ‘I am in full health. May I put my hands down now?’ was the reply.

  ‘You will keep them where I can see them.’ came the curt answer. ‘Now what the hell happened here?’

  ‘There was a battle.’

  ‘No shit! Who started it?’

  ‘Other creatures appeared. But rest assured, we drove them away and were triumphant. Victory was truly ours on this day.’ he smiled.

  Davis’s suspicions had reached critical point.

  ‘Boss, that sure as shit ain’t the way that Rosso talks. When I booked him, every second word was “fuck”. Whoever this is looks and sounds like Rosso, but the man couldn’t even spell “triumphant” let alone use it in a sentence. Something very strange is going on here.’

  The other men nodded grimly. John’s gut was completely in agreement. He decided a test was in a order.

  ‘Rosso, what was the name of the man who ran this establishment.’

  ‘Is that important?’

  ‘I’d say in this point of time that it would be critical. What was his name?’

  While he hadn’t expected a question like this, K’Dian had read the owners name on a sign behind the bar. However pronouncing it correctly would be a challenge.

  ‘Why Sherrif, his name is Char-Lie. Why do you ask?’ The way he said it came out as “Car Lie” and the men sprung into action with their guns drawn.

  ‘Down on the ground! Get down on the ground right now or we open fire!’ they yelled.

  ‘Well, it was worth a try..’ K’Dian said to himself as he sprung backwards as Nex began firing from her position.

  Before Davis and Kyle had a chance to react they were gunned down by her shots. Smith opened fire with his shotgun at the retreating Rosso/K’Dian but he had managed to dive through the bar doors without being hit. That left Douglas who was indiscriminately firing his handgun at the window where he thought the shooting had come from and Johns who was trying to open up the door to reach the radio for backup.

  As firing continued from both sides there was an almighty roar from behind the building and the Warwagon came hurting around in a massive spray of dust with Dar'kannag behind the wheel, racing towards the prone cruiser.

  Only Johns realised the danger of the potential impact and with no time to jump clear of the impact, instead threw himself through the door and onto the front seats.

  With a sickening smash the mighty war machine crunched into the cruiser, the impact crushing both Douglas and Smith to a pulp in its wake. The jarring impact sent the broken cruiser sailing up through the air where it eventually smashed back onto the ground, into a twisted heap in the field on the other side of the road.

  The Warwagon had emerged with only minor scratches at the front and content with the damage he had caused, Dar'kannag shut the engine down and walked over the road to the wreck.

  A terribly bruised and bloodied Johns waited for him there. Dizzy and disorientated from the spinning and the crash, he still had enough sense to pull himself up to seated position and to reach for his sidearm with his good arm, the one that wasn’t now dangling uselessly by his side. He pointed it directly at the terrifying sight of the crouching Dar'kannag now at the window

  ‘You have seen many seasons haven’t you?’ Dar'kannag spoke, his words filling the vehicle.

  ‘I have.... And I knew one day I would have to face my demons.’ he gasped. There was a crushing weight on his chest with every breath.

  ‘Demons?’ he asked quizzically.

  ‘Demons... Devils. Whatever the fuck you call yourself n-n-nowadays.’ He spat some blood. ‘You’re coming ...to take my soul to hell, aren’t you?’

  Dar'kannag’s eyes lit up with the mention of the strange word “hell”. Perhaps this is what the strange creatures of this realm called his world. Had they finally come across one that knew a way back home? This older one must have years of knowledge but looked to be close to death, Dar'kannag knew to be quick in his questioning.

  ‘I have no need of your soul at this time old one, but tell me how to get to this “hell” you speak of. Is the way close?’

  ‘I knew you’d come for me one day. All of those men...slain by my hand...they deserved to die. Even my own brother...he...he...my own flesh and blood, he deserved to d-’

  ‘Cease your prattling old one!’ the beast grunted ‘Tell me the way to this hell.’

  Johns looked confused.

  ‘But...you are from hell demon...surely you know the way back?’

  ‘Ah what joy it would bring if I did, but no. Now, I will ask again.’ Quicker than Johns could react he reached into the wreck and plucked the gun from his hand. ‘We came here via sorcery. Will we need additional sorcery to go back? Is there a sorcerer nearby that could be convinced to send us back?’

  Johns couldn’t help but laugh crazily. Maybe this conversation was all part of the delirium caused by the accident. Maybe he’d fallen over, cracked his head last night after one too many drinks and this was one hell of an awful dream he was suffering from on the living room floor. Maybe he was experiencing the wost nightmare he’d ever had. Or maybe he’d wake in a moment covered in sweat with a skull splitting headache but whole. At home and safe.

  ‘You probably ne...need a priest, demon.’ He spat blood. ‘Send you and that thing pretending to be Rosso rrr....rrr.... right back down where you belong.’

  ‘Yes? And where do I find such a thing as this “priest” you speak of?’

  He laughed again.

  ‘Oh don’t ...you worry, the way you’re going, they’ll find you. They’ll find you... and bring their biggest guns and they blow you all away right back there...they’ll find you...find you...get there...soon eno...’ he was starting to fade out of consciousness as more blood trickled out of his mouth.

  ‘Excellent!’ Dar'kannag roared. ‘Finally some answers!’ He tossed the sidearm over his shoulder and stood up. ‘If you somehow live after the events of this day old one, tell your armies to send in waves of these “priests.” We will be waiting in earnest.’

  A quiet ‘F-f-f-fuck you and the goat you rode in on... demon!’ was the only reply from the wreck and Dar'kannag boomed with laughter. This one was certainly filled with spirit!

  As he stomped back to the building across the road he silently hoped that the old one would manage to survive. He seemed the toughest of the creatures he had met so f
ar, especially when facing the mighty Dar'kannag head on and a warrior's death in battle seemed a far more fitting end for someone who had seen so many seasons.

  He also wondered if he would meant anyone tougher than the fearless old one - secretly hoping he would. This world might not be anything like his but it sure wasn’t lacking in surprises.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘You left him there to die?’ there was the slightest flicker of emotion on Agent Omega’s face when he spoke.

  ‘No little meat, I gave him a chance to live.’ The beast rumbled. ‘If he didn’t make it that would not surprise me... after all your kind do seem very fragile. I am yet to meet any that are the exception to that rule..’

  Omega took a deep breath, refusing to let the chained monster raise his ire.

  ‘Although I am curious, did the old one live?’ he continued.

  ‘He did. A little worse for wear but he’s promised that if he ever crosses paths with you again, he’s going to rip you a new one.’

  Unfamiliar with the expression, Dar'kannag still let out a big laugh. He had indeed been correct about the old one’s toughness.

  ‘Sadly though, that moment will never come. You are never leaving here, never setting foot outside again, never leaving those chains while you still breathe.’

  The beasts eyes narrowed.

  ‘Are you sure about that little meat? As entertaining as you have been I feel I will be bored of these communications soon. And when that happens I shall simply take me leave. And there is nothing you and your little hammer or these peons’ he moved his head around to indicate the nervous soldiers around the room ‘can do about it.’

  A smile crept up in the corner of Omega’s lips. Those soldiers in the room that had spent any length of time with the man knew that it was a very rare occurrence.

  ‘You boast well for a chained animal.’

  ‘I boast well for someone more than ready to rip your limbs right out of you before you have the chance to scream little one. Mark my words.’

  ‘Tell me about your vehicle.’ Omega said changing tact.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You keep referring to it as “a Warwagon”. Was it a military device before you used it for racing purposes?’

  Dar'kannag nodded.

  ‘It brought terror to all who stood in its path. And it was also instrumental in meeting my beloved Nex...’

  THE AIR WAS THICK WITH the smoke and haze of the battle, the ground a mixture of natural craters and twisted crystals of all and dark hues sizes jutting out at extreme angles - both covered in blood in places. The screams of the dying and the roar of the charging filled there air.

  ‘Dar'kannag!’ the distorted voice blasted through the communication crystal ‘Where in the combined hells are you?’

  Dar'kannag wiped his hands on the warriors uniform and then reached into the Warwagon through the open drivers side door to touch the crystal and communicate back.

  ‘I am busy here Garron, what do you want?’

  ‘Busy doing what?!’ the voice screamed.

  ‘Cutting the head off the berserker I just crushed. It will make a fine trophy mounted on my mighty wagon!’

  The crystals almost exploded with the obscenities hurled his way in reply. He ignored them for the most part and continued sawing through the extra thick neck of the fearsome hunter trapped under the wagon. It took a lot of firepower to slow one of these rampaging chaotic beasts down once they had reached their full rage but Dar'kannag had instead hit it at full speed with the front of the wagon, cracking it’s chest plate and ribs and holding it down long enough for him to remove his grisly trophy. Damage to the front was superficial but the boasting of taking out such a beast would last a lifetime.

  Screams of the battle around him filled the air and the occasional fireball soared brilliantly through the air above but he had set the proximity alarm - if anything tried to creep up on Dar'kannag he would be forewarned. His pistol and blade were always within reach.

  Maddened for the taste of blood long before the battle had started, the head still hissed and roared from it’s poorly forged bronze helmet in equal parts pain and frustration as Dar'kannag finally sawed through the toughened flesh. Eyes burned with vicious hatred and the mouth of spear like teeth gnashed at him as he admired his work. It would continue to do this for a while - the beast too mindless and enraged to realise that it was dying slowly.

  With a grunt he heaved the noisy head onto the bonnet and was just affixing the final chain to hold the snarling remains in place when his crystal spoke again.

  ‘This is Ch’aan of the 5th, I am low on ammunition and this position is close to being lost. Is there anyone near the bridge of sorrows?’

  Ch’aan - Dar'kannag had served with him in the war of blood oceans. He was twisted and devious as the best shadow lurkers could be and would rip the heart out of his own mother given enough reason but Dar'kannag had fought alongside of him long enough to call him a war brother.

  And right now his brother was in trouble.

  He looked over the battlefield and the manic skirmishes between the two forces. The bloody fighting raged on all over the surrounding lands between pockets of warriors on both sides but he figured that if he moved fast enough and skirted around the majority of the fighting, he’d be too hard a target to waste time on.

  It was a good theory and with no other plan currently, it was the one he would use.

  ‘Hold forth and fight bravely Ch’aan, I am on the way.’ he messaged back.

  ‘You will do nothing of the sort!’ the crystal roaring back, Garron still listening in and almost choking on what he was hearing. ‘I will not waste valuable resources on some pathetic shadow lurker who is stupid enough to get themselves trapped!! Now listen and listen well Dar'kannag, you will bring your war wa-’

  Dar'kannag cut him off by pulling out the flesh like cord at the back of the communication crystal.

  ‘If you manage to survive this “Garron”, then we shall have words.’ He said to himself as he started the vehicle back up. Garron might have been his commanding officer but they had never got on well from the start - with each battle the divide between the both grew. How that winged minion of dubious lineage had risen to his position before Dar'kannag was anyone’s guess - political campaigning and vicious backstabbing behind the scenes perhaps? He wouldn’t put it past the slime covered beast.

  And through all of this if Garron had somehow fallen in battle or after it, purely accidentally of course, well that was the price of war wasn’t it? As the scribes once wrote “Accidents can still happen to the best prepared..”

  There was bumping and swaying as he maneuvered the wagon over the cooling corpse of the berserker, before the wheels gained traction on the blasted ground and he roared off to the bridge of sorrows.

  The dying chained berserker head on the bonnet started roaring in appreciation as the speed increased and the sounds of close battle got louder. It gnashed its teeth in the hope of being able to sink it into something soon.

  Dar'kannag had barely turned the corner when the pack of roaming scum runners sighted him and gave chase. Hideously fast and lightly armoured, these feral four legged long haired beasts were chained in a pack and had somehow lost their beastmasters in battle (or had turned on them which was also likely given how chaotic they could be) - making them even more dangerous. With their long thin limbs they could more than keep pace with the top speed of the Warwagon and if a couple got their twisted claws in and managed to drag him out of it, Dar'kannag knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against the pack.

  One of the smaller and faster one at the head of the chained group leapt forward and grabbed a hold of the drivers door, it’s frenzied snout snapping through the opened window at Dar'kannag. With one hand holding the wheel he grabbed his sword and smashed the handle into its eyes. It howled in pain and let go, bouncing along the road behind him before the chain connected to the others pulled taunt and dragged it back behind the pack. Two more l
eap forward and jumped onto the back of the wagon, causing the vehicle to lose balance and swerve momentarily as it added additional weight to one side. Dar'kannag knew that if he allowed any more to also grab hold, it might throw the Warwagon right off the road and force it to stop so thinking quickly, he ignored the next corner and instead ploughed on straight ahead down the hill. The vehicle flew through the air for a few moments and bounced off the rocks more than a few times but he held the wheel firmly and kept it upright, hearing the satisfying scream of one of the scum runners losing its grip and falling behind. That still left one locked on dragging the rest of the pack behind via the chain so he spun the wheel and pointed the wagon straight at a band of fighting soldiers.

  Mighty warriors from both sides were so entrenched with bludgeoning their enemies that they were barely aware of the tonnes of twisted steel hurtling towards them until the last moment. Most of them managed to avoid serious impact save for one on his own side who didn’t move fast enough and was impaled on the front spikes, blood flooding out of his surprised mouth as the light faded from his eyes. The berserker head chained the bonnet made a loud sound like a wounded laugh at the sight.

  Still, the move had the desired effect - surrounded by friend and foe alike, the scum runners including the one with a death grip on the back of the Warwagon completely gave up on the idea of trying to get to Dar'kannag and threw themselves into the thick of battle instead. They lashed out at anything within reach and as one the pack of bloodied warriors stopped trying to massacre each other and end this new threat quickly.

  Clear of the battle and the hungry pack, Dar'kannag punched the air in triumph. The bridge of Sorrows wasn’t far now. He silently hoped that he had made it to Ch’aan in time.