The Forever Man: Betrayal

by Craig Zerf

  He left the study, picking up his broadsword as he did.

  Then he crossed the quad and climbed the stairs to the battlements above the gate. His people called out to him as he stood on the walkway, their shouts of ‘Captain,’ ringing out across the square.

  He replied with a salute and a smile. ‘Are you ready?’ He shouted.

  A cheer of affirmation thundered out as all shouted their approbation. As the cheering faded another sound could be heard in the background. Like the wind rushing across the plains. A rhythmic rustling susurration of sound.

  It was the sound of over ten thousand pairs of legs brushing through the long grass in the fields that surrounded the abbey. It was the sound of approaching death.

  As was the Annihilator custom they arrayed themselves opposite the gates in neat ranks of one thousand. Ten ranks. Above them, skittering across the sky, were at least another thousand of the flying Yari.

  Captain Axel had command of almost three thousand armed men and women on his walls. Enough to hold them. For a while at least.

  He knew exactly how the attack would take place. The Annihilators were nothing if not predictable. They would wait until their ranks had settled and then, as one they would move forward, the front ranks holding ladders at the ready. Then, as soon as they were in range, the spears would be unleashed. At the same time the Yari would drop their darts from on high in a storm of death delivering steel.

  The ladders would be thrown up against the wall and the battle would commence. The same procedure would be repeated until one or the other side came out on top.

  It was almost prosaic. Apart from all the blood and screaming and dying.

  The Roaches charged. The humans waited, shields at the ready. Five thousand spears filled the sky and crashed down on the wall, punching the defenders back, killing and maiming. A thousand steel darts rained down from on high, sundering shields and splitting skulls.

  Axel stood up and raised his sword. ‘Archers. Fire.’

  Two thousand cloth yard shafts arched through the air, followed by another two thousand and another. A slithering bridge of death. Droves of Roaches were driven to the floor as six thousand hardwood shafts struck home.

  And then the front rank hit the wall. Ladders were raised and the Roaches swarmed up.

  ‘Oil!’ Shouted Axel.

  Men scurried forward and emptied pots of fish oil over the sides of the walls. Hundreds of gallons.

  ‘Flame!’ Commanded the captain.

  Burning torches were cast over the side and the humans pulled hastily back.

  The oil took flame with a dull explosion. The sound of a giant dog barking once. Flames leapt a hundred feet into the air.

  Ladders and Annihilators burned alike as the smoky orange fire consumed them.

  The Roaches withdrew to the plain to reform. Once again in neat ranks of one thousand.

  But this time there were only nine ranks. Not ten.

  Axel walked the wall, talking to his warriors. Young, old, men and women. His people.

  The Annihilators struck again one more time before nightfall. But this time the humans had no more oil and many groups of Roaches made the top of the walls and were only dispatched after much desperate hand to hand combat.

  Finally they were driven back.

  But after that assault, laid out in neat rows on the quad were over four hundred human bodies.

  Axel prayed fervently that the Fair-Folk reinforcements would come the next day. He did not sleep that night, rather spending his time talking to the wounded, bolstering spirits and sitting with his wife Janice.

  The Annihilators attacked again at sunrise.

  Again at midday.

  And again three hours before sunset.

  By the time the sun went down on the second day there was no longer any space in the quad for the bodies of the fallen and captain Axel had ordered them to be laid out in the gardens behind the chapel.

  Over one thousand souls had departed over the last twenty four hours.

  Father O’Hara, like Axel, had not yet slept as he gave last rites to the dying, said prayers over the dead and provided succor for the wounded.

  The Fair-Folk reinforcements had not come. Neither had Donavan returned with news although, even if he had wanted to, Axel knew of no way that he could have made it through enemy lines and into the abbey.

  The next dawn brought yet more death, the morning light shining on the fields of blood and the enemy carapaces and the weary faces of the defenders alike.

  As the Annihilators started their next attack a sound of thunder shook the ground as hundreds of mounted men came galloping out of the forest to strike at the enemy flank. They drove deeply into the Roach formations, cutting and trampling as they charged.

  A cheer went up amongst the defenders.

  ‘The Fair-Folk have come!’

  ‘The reinforcements are here!’

  But their joy was short lived as it became obvious that there were no reinforcements. No Orc warriors. No goblin archers.

  It was merely the desperate charge of the human cavalry that had been kept in reserve.

  At their head rode Donovan, the young scout who had ridden out to bring the Fair-Folk reinforcements. He had returned alone.

  The cavalry fought bravely, hacking and chopping as they went down under the thousands of Annihilator warriors.

  And then there were none.

  The defenders looked on in utter silence, faces set. Expressions resolute. A people that had accepted their fate.

  Miraculously they lasted another three days.

  Three days of almost constant battle.

  When the gates were finally breached and the Annihilators burst into the abbey there were but twenty six humans left alive.

  And at their head stood the bleeding, broken figure of captain Axel Judge, formally of the Queen’s Royal Surrey Regiment and leader of the abbey.

  Behind him arrayed a selection of men, women and children. All were armed. At his feet lay the body of his beloved wife.

  And the captain remembered.

  He remembered his friends, Patrick and Dom and his sister Jenny. His family home in the village of Judge’s Cross. How he had battled against the Belmarsh Boys, a gang of thugs and murderers, rapists and thieves. How he had lost both the battle and his right eye and almost his life. How this had led him to meet the absolute love of his life, Janice, who had saved him and then later taken him as her husband.

  Most of all he remembered The Forever Man. If only he were here now. He knew, without shadow of doubt, that the marine would be able to, somehow, turn the tide.

  But, as his father used to always say, if wishes were horses then beggars would eat horse meat.

  And Axel held his sword above his head and smiled one last time as he charged at the enemy that had destroyed his people.

  Chapter 10

  Tad laughed and picked up Clare and put her on his shoulders. Although the ten year old was only slightly shorter than the Little Big Man he carried her like she wasn’t even there such was his amazing strength.

  Then he picked up Stephanie in the crook of his arm and ran, jumping over logs and tufts of grass, neighing like a horse as he did so.

  Both of the girls squealed with delight and Maryanne joined in with his laughter.

  Finally Tad put the girls down and walked over to Maryanne. His breathing was even and there was no hint that he had been exerting himself.

  Maryanne smiled at him as he came to her. Even now, after only ten days, she knew that she was totally in love with this strange, brave, generous man. She was honest enough with herself to admit that a portion of her attraction did come from the fact that he was so well regarded by the community. A leader, a legend and a close personal friend of The Forever Man, king of the human Free State. After all power was a great aphrodisiac.

  But it was more than that. She saw a side of him that many others did not. Shyness that he hid behind a wall of sarcasm and acerbic wit, his generosit
y of spirit and his unthinking bravery.

  And most of all, his unconscious kindness towards both her and her girls.

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it lightly. ‘My princess,’ he said.

  ‘Stop it,’ she laughed. ‘I ain’t no princess.’

  ‘You are to me,’ replied Tad.

  She laughed again and then, looking over Tad’s shoulder, she pulled away and sank into a low curtsey.

  ‘Your majesty.’

  Tad turned around to see Nathaniel approaching.

  ‘Hey, King,’ he greeted his friend.

  ‘Yo, Tad,’ answered Nathaniel. ‘Maryanne,’ he continued. ‘I hope that I find you well. All settled in now?’

  Maryanne nodded. ‘We are staying at Tad’s house,’ she said. ‘He has made us most welcome.’

  ‘Good. Maryanne, I need to speak to Tad alone.’

  ‘Of course, majesty. I’ll take the girls home. It’s time for lunch at any rate.’ She curtsied again and went on her way.

  ‘What’s up, Nate?’ Asked Tad.

  ‘We’ve had bad news,’ answered the marine. ‘Our long range scouts have just come in from south.’ Nathaniel took a deep breath. ‘The abbey has been destroyed. Axel is dead. They’re all dead.’

  Tad went pale. ‘All? Janice, father O’Hara?’

  ‘Every single soul. To the last one. Apparently they took out over five thousand Roaches.’

  ‘What about the Fair-Folk garrison at Hope Valley?’ Asked Tad. ‘There are over twenty thousand Orcs and goblins stationed there. Where were they?’

  Nathaniel shook his head. ‘I have sent a message to commander Ammon of the Fair-Folk to enquire as to what happened. All that we can do is wait for a reply.’

  Tad’s face was pinched with anger. ‘That’s not good enough,’ he said. ‘Over three thousand humans died. There is no excuse for that. We must make them pay.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Nathaniel. ‘But there is nothing that we can do. We’re stretched paper thin as it is. To declare war against the Fair-Folk, our supposed allies, would be worse than insanity. It would be suicide. For the whole of humanity. We can barely maintain a war on one front, to fight on two would spell the end.’

  ‘I know,’ said Tad. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel so damned helpless.’

  ‘We can only do what we can do,’ said Nathaniel. ‘In the meantime we must take whatever happiness is offered.’

  Tad nodded at the advice and set off home, to Maryanne and the girls.

  Chapter 11

  Gramma Higgins had lived on The Farm, or Harry’s Farm as it was known by the humans, for over twenty years now. She had outlived her nieces Janeka and Adalyn, both taken by the cancer. She missed them every day.

  Her life on The Farm had been acceptable, she was respected, not asked to do any work and generally did what she wanted. The only down side is that the humans were totally controlled by the Fair-Folk and their minions. What they did, how and where they lived, their food rations and their remuneration.

  In return, however, they got protection from roving bands of bandits and sundry vagabonds. She had, once or twice, contemplated leaving and escaping to the Free State but after thinking about it she could find no real reason to take the risk.

  This morning she had, once again, woken before sunrise as was her habit. She had made herself a cup of bitter acorn coffee, sweetened with honey and then walked out onto her front porch to watch the sun rise.

  The first things that she noticed were the Orcs and goblins. They were moving quietly and efficiently, packing hand carts and loading goods onto each other’s backs. She put her mug down and approached the nearest Orc sergeant.

  ‘Sergeant,’ she said. ‘What de hell be happening?’

  The Orc ignored her totally.

  Gramma kicked him in the shin. ‘Hey, answer me,’ she said. ‘What going on?’

  The Orc, knowing that Gramma would keep kicking him until he answered, decided to capitulate.

  ‘We have been ordered back to London.’

  ‘Who has?’

  The Orc swept his hand around. ‘Everyone.’

  ‘Humans as well?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Only denizens of the Fair-Folk.’

  ‘Well what about us?’ Asked Gramma. ‘Who will protect us from the Roaches?’

  The Orc carried on packing his hand cart. Gramma waited for a while but it was obvious that the conversation was over.

  By now the sun had risen and more humans were coming out of their dwellings, children wide-eyed in wonder and adults small-faced with concern.

  Murmurs of concern started to ripple through the community as the ranks of Orcs and goblins started to march out of the central farm enclosure. There was no sign of the Fair-Folk farm commander and it soon became obvious that he had already left.

  As the warriors left, the humans started to slowly gravitate towards Gramma, sensing her as their natural leader now that the Fair-Folk were gone.

  Eventually there was a large crowd in front of Gramma’s house, standing and staring. Waiting.

  ‘What all you fools doing staring at an old lady,’ snapped Gramma.

  ‘What should we do?’ Asked someone in the crowd.

  ‘What, you people been sheep for so long dat you forgot how to be wolves?’ She asked. ‘You all forgot how to make a decision yourself, like little chilluns?’ She continued, hoping to shame them into some sort of action.

  There was a pause and then someone else spoke up. ‘Tell us what to do.’

  ‘Yes,’ called out others. ‘Tell us.’

  Gramma shook her head in disgust. ‘Truly, you peoples are worse dan slaves. How should I know what to do? I’s an ole lady who ain’t done naught for over twenty years now.’

  ‘Should we pack up and make for the Free State?’ Asked a tall man.

  ‘Or should we stay here and defend the walls?’ Asked another.

  ‘We should send an emissary to the Annihilators. Sue for peace. We’re just farmers. They’ll see that and leave us alone.’

  ‘They’ll kill us,’ yelled a woman.

  ‘Shut it!’ Shouted Gramma. ‘All you’se just be quiet.’ She cast her angry eye over the crowd. ‘You wants to know what to do?’ She asked. ‘Well den Gramma will tell you. We’s got no chance of making it through a hundred miles of Roach territory to the Free State. Doe’s insects will catch us and kill us for shore. And you, you fool,’ she pointed at the man who had suggested suing for peace. ‘You go speak to does Roaches and ask dem for peace dey will kill you sooner dan look at you.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ Asked the man again.

  ‘We batten down de hatches,’ said Gramma. ‘We put our people on de wall and we prepare to defend dis place with our lives. Because when doe’s Roaches come for us dey are not going to stop. Dey will be coming to destroy us.’

  The crowd stared at Gramma for a few seconds and then immediately started arguing amongst themselves. Some were for going, some staying and defending the farm, others wanted to follow the Orcs and still others wanted to do nothing and simply carry on as normal.

  ‘Fools,’ said Gramma to herself as she picked up her mug, took a sip and grimaced with distaste. The brew was cold. She went back inside to make a new one.

  The crowd didn’t notice that she had gone.

  She boiled the water and threw the roasted acorn powder into the pot, boiling it vigorously for a few minutes. Then she poured the brew into her mug and spooned in a large quantity of honey. There wasn’t much left but there was no reason to conserve it.

  She reckoned that the Roaches would be there soon and, when they did – well, she would have no need for honey anymore.

  Walking slowly so as not to spill the hot liquid, she went and sat in her favourite chair, leant back to get comfortable.

  And waited for the end.

  Chapter 12

  The snow swirled in the air reducing visibility to less than twenty yards.

  Tad pul
led his cloak tightly around him and squinted as he tried to pierce the veil of churning white flakes.

  ‘There’s no one out there,’ said Nathaniel with a chuckle in his voice. ‘Well, not for a couple of miles at least. I would know.’

  ‘They’ll come,’ said Tad. ‘With the weather like this we lose our air superiority advantage so they’ll come. I guarantee it.’

  ‘I’m sure that they will,’ agreed the marine. ‘And when they do we’ll be ready for them. So,’ he continued.’ How is married life treating you?’

  Tad raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not married.’

  ‘As good as,’ quipped the marine. ‘As good as.’

  ‘True,’ admitted The Little Big Man ‘It’s good. I’m happy. For the first time ever, I am truly happy. I have a family. I feel complete.’

  ‘And you, Kob, my friend,’ asked Nathaniel of the large Orc standing next to him.

  ‘I am alive,’ answered the Orc.

  ‘Yes, that is true,’ confirmed Nathaniel. ‘But, are you happy?’

  ‘I continue to exist,’ said Kob. ‘I have food enough and water enough and a place to shelter from the weather when I need it.’

  ‘So would you say that you are content?’

  ‘Every morning I wake to greet a new day, so, yes, I am content.’

  ‘Well whoop-de-doo,’ said Tad. ‘What verve for life, I almost can’t stand the enthusiasm. Come on, Kob,’ continued The Little Big Man. ‘Crack a smile.’

  The Orc stared at Tad for a full second before he spoke, his face a blank mask.

  ‘I am smiling,’ he said and then turned to carry on staring into the snowstorm.

  Suddenly Nathaniel tensed. ‘They’re coming,’ he said. Two miles out or so. Moving fast. Coming straight for us. Lots of them. Maybe more than ten thousand. Heading for the gate.’ Then The Forever Man pulled in some of the pulse power around him and used it to enhance his voice so that it boomed out across the wall for all to hear.

  ‘Ready yourselves,’ he shouted. ‘Annihilators incoming. ETA six minutes. They’re coming in fast so brace hard, my bet is that they are not going to do their usual forming up thing and are simply going to hit us at speed.’