Epoch (The Templar Future Book 1)

by Lowry, Chris

  The Templar slept. Deep, bone numbing weariness had claimed him reaching past all levels of endurance and forcing him to succumb to the most basic need. He slept hard, his breath coming slow and even, hidden in the shadows of the rocks and trees.

  Survival instincts bred an trained in him were aware of his surroundings though. Taught to sleep with one eye open, the Templar had attuned himself to his surroundings so well, he was aware of the slightest vibration of movement in a few meter radius around him. He could categorize a bird landing on a branch, a hermit crab scuttling through the sand, a ladybug crawling across the tree truck above his head. But these were natural sounds, noises he could recognize and ignore. Nothing to alarm him, nothing to worry about.

  She fell with swiftness, barely brushing a leaf in her passing, spear held poised to land at his throat, capturing before he could open his eyes.

  She landed, but he was gone. She leaped on top of the rock, searching for him.

  The sand was turned and scattered. She could see where his right foot planted for him to lead off, but she couldn’t believe the speed. She was faster than a snake and he moved so she couldn’t see him. She gave a half thought to the Suit’s warning, then concentrated on the Templar.

  “You trespass here,” she called, jumping into the branches and searching the empty beach. “I will find you. This is my land.”

  She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye on the far side of the rock and launched her spear. It connected with a pistol, knocking it to the sand.

  “I have you,” she screamed and bounded to the fallen gun.

  He hit her from behind, tackling her face first into the ground. She gasped, her mouth was full of sand, her nose, her eyes. She couldn’t breath.

  She kicked backwards, tumbling headfirst, trying to drag him with her. He let go. She rolled toward the water, hitting the surf and vanishing into a wave.

  Strong strokes pulled her underwater to the end of the beachrock. She could hold her breath for minutes, until the burning urge almost overwhelmed her. Slowly, she let herself come up under a small outcropping, and took a long deep breath.

  “I am impressed,” he whispered in her ear.

  She hit him with a piece of corral. He didn’t see it coming, and took the blow above the ear. He fell in the water.

  She jumped on top of him, taking another deep breath and pushed him under, holding him down.

  His eyes were open and he was smiling. She snarled and pushed him deeper.

  He grabbed her in a hug, pulling her close, but not squeezing tight. She tried to back away, but he held her, kicking hard. He carried them away from land. She watched as sand fell away into the deeper blue water of a grotto, an underwater valley. They moved swiftly, and she wondered at his ability to swim.

  The need for air consumed her, a flame blazing in her lungs. She headbutted him, trying to get loose, to get oxygen. He held her tighter. She bit his cheek, and he grabbed her chin between his teeth, biting too, until the blood of both streamed around their faces and the sting of the salt water made them let go. She relaxed in his arms, hoping he would by the feint.

  He carried them up, breaking the surface but refusing to let her go. Instead, she could feel his powerful legs kicking, keeping the both out of the water.

  She drank in air, gulping great mouthfuls. She never had held her breath so long. Then again, she never ought in the water before. Corsairs knew better than to fight in water. Motion and blood attracted sharks.

  As if being called, two dorsal fins popped up behind him.

  “Sharks!” she yelled. “Let me go!”

  She struggled against him, trying to free herself. The sharks wouldn’t attack right away. They were curious, probably frightened of this moving creature in the water that was bigger than they were. If she could get free, she would sink down to them, spread herself out and try to appear larger and maybe scare them away.

  The Templar swung around, and watched as the fins slipped under water. He had never seen a shark, but had heard legends of them. Men who had made their way up the river talked of them as killing machines, monsters that would climb over the back of a boat to get a man. He felt fear for his exposed legs, but battle pride and desire for this powerful woman grinding against him kept him from letting go.

  “What do we do?” he asked, keeping their heads above water.

  “Let me go! We have to sink, scare them!”

  He released her. She took a deep breath and sank under water. He followed, imitating her when she spread her arms and legs and faced the gray monsters twice as long as a man on their level. The Templar did the same.

  the sharks circled, eyeing the two intruders with caution. The larger of the two, just over four meters, swam in closer to investigate the woman. She punched it in the snout and it backed off, running for deeper water. The second shark disappeared.

  She swam for the surface, taking deep breaths again. The Templar surfaced beside her.

  “We’ll finish this on land,” she growled and made for shore with powerful strokes. He kept pace, angering her. No one was supposed to be able to swim as well as she.

  On the far side of him, a dorsal fin appeared and slipped under water. She took a quick breath and dove, hoping to beat the shark.

  It came in close, the big one again. It wasn’t afraid this time, coming closer to her, attracted by the thick blood that waved on her chin in a small ribbon. She wiped it away, but the bite was deep and the blood flowed freely. The shark came in low, just below her feet, ready to attack.

  It made a passing grab for her outstretched arm. The Templar swam in like a shot, grabbing her knife with one hand and the dorsal fin with the other.

  He stabbed it, twisting and turning, rolling under the water. The shark bit his arm, chomping, blood circling it’s snout. It shook the Templar like a doll. Oblivious, he ripped open the white underbelly, entrails trailing in the water.

  The other shark moved in to feast on it’s brother. The Templar pried the locked jaws open and surfaced. He breathed deep, and struck for shore, following the receding woman.

  On the beach, she waited. He had her knife. she picked up a piece of driftwood, a makeshift club that extended her reach by almost two feet.

  He stood up in the surf, left arm hanging limp by his side, and walked calmly to her.

  “You propose we still fight?” he asked, admiring her trim muscular form. She was tall, just coming to his shoulder and tanned a dark caramel color.

  “You are an intruder,” she gasped, out of breath from the swim and the scramble for a weapon.

  “I saved you from that,” he said, pointing to the water.

  “You took me into that,” she countered.

  “You were going to kill a sleeping man.”

  “You attacked my village. You have intruded on my island and I have vowed to kill you.”

  “Your people shot down my hovercar.”

  She didn’t answer him for a moment. He continued.

  “So I am not uninvited. I came not by choice.”

  “You attacked my village,” she wavered, keeping the club but lowering the tip. He could move fast, but she trusted her reaction to be faster.

  He dropped the knife on the sand. She only had a stick and he could break that easy enough.

  “I came to your village to ask for help,” he threw a glamour, the projection of a weaker man, but the strain was hard. Blood puddle in the sand under his lacerated arm. “We were attacked. I instructed my men to use stun until we could sort it out. Have you been to the village?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you saw, I killed no one.”

  The glamour was working. All she could see was a weak man, standing in front of her. Then, the glamour faded and he fell backwards, passing out.

  She stared at him afraid this was a trick. But she could see the large puddle of red at his feet.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” she thought.

  She raised the club and moved to hi
m. He was unconscious, his arm wounded viscously, mangled. She put her foot on his chest and screamed a victory cry.

  Struggling, she hefted him across her shoulders, slumping under his weight. She stumbled through the woods, carrying her prize back to the village. They would honor her as the greatest Corsair of all time for this victory. They would have to let her lead an assault on the Coast, instead of waiting for men to return. She had proven herself worthy in her father’s eyes. She congratulated herself over and over as she careened down the well worn path.

  Nova walked down the hallway, searching for Bram. He had hidden from her for the day, choosing to immerse himself in the pre-party activities and followed her orders to the letter. They had never fought like this before, yelling and intentionally hurting and discrediting. Disagreements before now had been tiny matters of inconvenience, the solution usually agreeing not to see eye to eye. But where the Templar was involved, she wasn’t sure.

  The Computer called for complete eradication. Bram agreed with the Computer and Nova was required by oath to follow those instructions. But she nursed treasonous thoughts that maybe, this time, the Computer was wrong. After all, it called for the death of Robe for defecting with the Templar, the replacement it had recommended in the first place. New data always shed light on any conclusions and she was smart enough to reevaluate herself often. But the Computer claimed infallible logic with a zero percentage of error whenever she questioned it.

  Bram didn’t think it was wrong. She could tell he was confused at it’s call for Robe, but he had blind faith enough to follow order’s without questions. She noticed as she walked, the attention to detail. Where she had called for extra guards, he had posted more than enough. Each with specific instructions to be aware of any event or activity involving the Mob. This fund-raiser was important to her Troops, and she could see it reflected in their eyes, in their devotion to duty. Their existence as a unit depended on this night.

  She found him going over detailed blueprints with several Troopers. She stood behind him, listening to his instructions and tried to hide a quiet smile of pride. She made a good choice for her Second.

  “We’re going to need two guards posted here and here,” he pointed to the map. “We never considered them points of egress, but if the Mob watched that escape the other night, then they’ll know. We won’t have a permanent solution until after the event, so keep your eyes open.”

  “I thought we ordered a temporary barrier?” she asked.

  Bram and the Troopers saluted.

  “Our requisitions weren’t put through.”

  “What do you mean? They were marked priority.”

  “Someone put a freeze on our budget, we’re on operating level only.”

  “But that barrier wasn’t for us, it’s for the whole blasted affair,” she yelled.

  “Don’t take it out on me.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “What are your contingencies?”

  “I’ve got Troops at every possible point. We’ve set up snipers every three blocks to take out any surface rockets that might go up after a car. And we sent word to every invitee to fly high altitude and drop. We’ve given them a window to arrive and depart. They have to follow our schedule.”

  “A lot of work for them to give up money, Huh?” she joked.

  “If someone made half the demands we make for giving up my paycheck, I’d tell them to bug off,” he smiled back at her. “But then, I don’t need protection.”

  “And they do. That’s the key to our survival, they need us to keep the Mob from them.”

  She looked at each Trooper, searching their souls with her eyes. That was one of her gifts, to make each one feel a part of the Team.

  “We can’t let them down. Not on that night. Not ever. Right?”

  “Yes sir!” they screamed as one.

  “Carry on,” she told them and continued down the hallway. Bram would drop by her office later and they would finish the apology that had been started.

  Reanna made it to the clearing before she fell. The last several hundred yards were a struggle, gasping for breath as the burden on her shoulder grew heavier and heavier. The breeze had stopped, the forest stilled until the morning heat hung like a moist blanket she had to push through.

  She considered dropping the Templar, leaving his body on the trail for other pirates to retrieve. But this was her kill, even if he wasn’t dead yet. She wanted credit for it, and validation in everyone’s eyes. This capture would prove that she was able to go to the Mainland, to lead raiding parties on passing ships and coastal communities. Proof of such had been a preventing factor for two years. Never before had a woman wanted to raid with the men. They fought to protect the village, fortifying home defenses. But to actually sail across the water and raid, no woman before her had any desire. She was a unique first.

  Her father tried to domesticate her, but she battled him with a ferocity he found both entertaining and perplexing. He allowed her to take over and eventually run the entire defense network around the island. but no matter how she begged, how she pleaded and threatened, he would not give in to her becoming a raider. And she respected him as leader enough to follow his wishes.

  Until now. Beating the intruder was her way of showing him she could handle the stresses and responsibilities of a raiding party. And even if he refused to see it her way, the other Corsairs would agree that she succeeded where all others had failed. She was worthy to join them.

  That thought alone sustained her the last hundred meters. She entered the clearing, dropped the Templar and yelled for Banger.

  “Father!”

  He leaped out of the hut and sprinted across the open area, vaulting the stream. He grabbed her in a great bear hug.

  “Reanna, you’re safe.”

  She held him back, excitement boiling in her stomach. She caught her breath and excitedly told him what happened.

  “And when he came out of the water, his arm was practically bit off. I had him. We fought for awhile longer, and I bested him. I brought his body back to show you. Now I am ready.”

  He held up a hand, stopping her.

  “I will check the body. I want to be sure he is dead.”

  “I never said he was dead,” she answered. “Only beaten. I have proven myself. I want to be a raider.”

  He looked at her, eyes crinkled in concentration, but he couldn’t argue with her.

  “I can’t argue with you. You were the only one to beat him.”

  Banger turned to he body. He rolled it over with his toe.

  The Templar grabbed his leg and twisted, throwing the thin man into the underbrush. He landed with a yelp of surprise.

  Reanna reacted, but the trip through the jungle had taken their toll. She was too slow to reach him as the Templar hopped up. She was too slow to outmaneuver him. They circled around each other. He feinted left, she jabbed with her spear and he took it from her.

  She flipped, landing and turning to run. He hit her in the small of her back, tackling her to the ground, knocking the air out of her. She lay on the ground, gasping and writhing in the mud.

  Banger screeched and launched himself in an attack. The Templar caught him in mid-air, tossing him across the stream, using only his right arm.

  He landed and was still.

  The Templar grabbed Reanna with his arm and dragged her across the stream, foregoing the bridge. She gasped as her face was plunged under water.

  “Stop!” she screamed.

  He dumped her in front of her father’s hut.

  “Robe!” he called.

  Reanna crawled to her father.

  “We’re tied up,” Robe answered.

  He climbed to the platform and peeked in the door.

  “Taken by surprise?” he asked, smiling sardonically.

  “Looks like she got you too,” Pip nodded to his bleeding arm.

  “This was a shark. I’m going to need help,” he untied them.

  “Lay down, I’ll look at it,” said Darwin.
<
br />   Robe stood in the doorway, his gun trained on the two figures huddled below.

  “Want me to knock them out?”

  “With that grit?” the Templar grimaced as Darwin poked his mangled arm. “No, bring them to me.”

  “This is pretty bad,” Darwin spoke through gritted teeth. “I don’t have anything I need to deal with it.”

  The Templar turned to Pip.

  “Put a field dressing on it.”

  She shook her head, kneeling beside the Doctor to probe the cuts.

  “You need a medical Computer.”

  Darwin pulled a large, triangular tooth from the wound.

  “A souvenir,” he dropped it on the Templar’s chest.

  “Just wrap it up to stop the bleeding. And get me food. I feel weak.”

  Robe lead Banger and Reanna up the platform. The Templar motioned them inside, bade them sit.

  “Who is she?”

  “She is my daughter,” said Banger.

  “She is fantastic,” the Templar leered. “She fights like a demon cat”

  “Her name is Reanna. She beat you.”

  “Me?” he laughed. “No, this-”

  He held up his arm.

  “This is from a shark. But she did take me by surprise. I barely heard her coming.”

  “You didn’t hear me at all. If I wouldn’t have hit that leaf, I’d have your head.”

  The Templar watched her with admiring eyes.

  “You could have had my head on the beach, but you chose to carry me back here instead.”

  “I wanted Father to see I beat you,” she stuck her chin in the air.

  “I let your wind yourself so I could check on my men. If they were dead, you would be too. Because you let them live, I let you live.”

  “What do you want from us?” Banger asked.

  “I told you. A place to rest, peacefully.”

  “I’ll let you rest in peace,” Reanna growled.

  Robe pressed the muzzle of his rifle into her neck.

  “She’s going to give us trouble.”

  “Her?” the Templar said, half closing his eyes. “She will do nothing.”