Raven’s Song
Launnie Roush
Copyright © 2015 by Launnie Roush
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 1533457654
ISBN-13: 978-1533457653
For those who believe . . .
PROLOGUE
“One day you will ask me the question children have been asking since the dawn of human consciousness: ‘Where did I come from?’
And what will I tell you? What can I tell you? The answer was once relatively simple; the stork brought you, you were found under a cabbage leaf in a cabbage patch, you grew in mommy’s tummy. For millennia, these answers and countless others placated the curiosities of uneducated juvenile humans, and although you are human, these answers don’t apply to you. I suppose the easiest way to explain is with a story.
“The story in question tells of a nation that’d been around a long time and had shielded itself from the rest of the world behind a great black wall called the Ban. It was a splendorous and pristine place of technological wonders, a place of very little crime or discomfort where the vast majority of people were happy and long-lived. The memory of the last war the nation had waged was nearly confined to educational texts. Unfortunately, it was at this point in the nation’s long history that two families let their hatred for each other sow the seeds of destruction . . .”
ONE
Caitlyn Floyd adjusted her left kote, or padded arm guard, before stretching her upper body, her hands reaching towards the domed ceiling of the arena she sat in. The arena could seat ten thousand spectators and was filled to capacity. Seated in a line to her left were nine other kendoka, or practitioners of kendo, all of them classmates from her dojo. These men and women had the honor of representing their dojo in the state of Cat’s annual freestyle kendo tournament. A victory today would bring great honor to Caitlyn, her dojo, and to Caitlyn’s father, who was the governor of Cat.
Much of Federation culture centered on martial skill, military personnel being the most highly regarded of all citizens and sport combatants were the best loved athletes. By law, all teenagers in the Federation trained in basic combat techniques, and Caitlyn had shown tremendous martial talent during her formative years. Most had no need for this training beyond high school and were assigned other occupations upon reaching adulthood, but Caitlyn’s skill had allowed her to become a successful kendoka in the Professional Freestyle Kendo League.
Her dojo’s sempai, or assistant instructor, knelt beside her. “One minute till action,” he informed her.
Caitlyn nodded and looked to the wooden weapon lying on the floor in front of her. It was a white oak replica of a halberd, an eight-foot-long polearm with a combination axe head, entangling hook, and spear tip at its killing end. She took up her weapon, the weight and feel of it intimately familiar in her hands. She waited until the shinpan, or referee, motioned for the next fighters to step onto the competition floor, a square of polished hickory measuring twenty feet on a side. The event announcer bellowed her name as she strolled calmly to the center of the floor, the crowd enthusiastically showing their approval with applause and cheers.
She knew a live televised feed was being broadcast all across the Federation, and anyone watching was seeing her, a twenty-eight-year-old, medium-complexioned woman with an athletic build, a fairly lovely face boasting sky blue eyes and an engaging smile, and long blonde hair which was currently gathered into a topknot. She was wearing her bogu, a black suit of armor consisting of a padded vest and gloves fitted over a white, long-sleeved tunic and a pair of emerald green hakama, trousers with baggy, pleated legs. Knowing she needed to further garner the favor of her fans, she hefted her halberd above her head and turned a slow circle, a triumphant smile on her face. The crowd went crazy at her display but fell silent after only a few brief moments. Caitlyn knew what this meant and with a calm expression she lowered her halberd and turned to face her opponent.
The man who stepped onto the floor was mountainous in build and stature. In his right hand he held a wooden battle-axe and strapped to his left forearm was a truly formidable scutum, or rectangular shield. He also wore bogu, but unlike her, his gear included the customary padded helm and his hakama were colored a deep violet.
Knox, Caitlyn recalled with distaste.
Just then the announcer introduced her opponent as Tobias Knox, and the crowd booed and jeered as the big man brandished his axe. The combatants started towards each other, and when they were ten paces apart they turned to the eastern side of the arena and trained their eyes on the shinpan. A quick hand signal from him indicated the moment they were to pay their respects. The contestants crossed their weapons over their hearts and bowed their heads to him. They then turned and repeated this gesture to each other.
Just five uncontested blows, Caitlyn told herself with calm confidence.
A freestyle kendo match pitted two teams of up to ten kendoka armed with wooden melee weapons of virtually any type against one another. Unlike traditional kendo, in which only weapon strikes made by wooden swords were allowed, they fought in no-holds-barred combat, using both wooden replica weapons and unarmed striking techniques to land five jarring, uncontested blows on an opponent, thereby earning a victory point. The team with the most victory points won the entire match.
The crowd had gone deathly silent as the combatants stared each other down. “Prepare!” the shinpan’s strong, authoritative voice boomed throughout the arena.
Caitlyn and Tobias quickly readied their weapons. Caitlyn turned so that only her right side was facing her opponent, and she pointed the tip of her halberd at him. Tobias had, at the same time, covered nearly his entire torso with his shield and raised his axe to chest level.
Gonna have to neutralize that damned shield, Caitlyn told herself.
“BATTLE!” the shinpan suddenly bellowed.
Tobias let out a loud growl and surged forward. Caitlyn waited until he was within a few feet of her before she lunged forward and thrust at his chest with her halberd. Tobias brought his shield up, and when he felt the halberd make contact with it, he gave a mighty shove forward. Caitlyn was rocked by her opponent’s raw strength and was forced to take a step back. Encouraged by her slight retreat, Tobias pressed forward and lashed out with his axe in a reverse body chop, his strike aimed for her chest. Caitlyn hopped out of the axe’s range and attempted a slash at Tobias’s outstretched arm, but he was able to get his shield up, again denying her a solid hit.
Tobias quickly pivoted, his shield knocking Caitlyn’s halberd aside. This left Caitlyn vulnerable for a brief moment, and Tobias attempted to capitalize on this by swinging his axe at her unprotected left side. Caitlyn saw the incoming axe out of the corner of her eye, and as she angled her body away from the strike, Tobias delivered a powerful blow to her unprotected midsection with the edge of his shield. The blow sent her onto her back, and just as she was about to spring to her feet Tobias trudged up, stomped his right foot squarely on her sternum, and pressed down with all his might. As Caitlyn struggled to breathe, Tobias chose this moment to pose for the crowd.
An idea suddenly struck Caitlyn, and she quickly grabbed hold of the foot on her chest with both hands and gave it a savage twist. Tobias was thrown off balance and fell hard on his side. Caitlyn quickly retrieved her halberd, gained her feet, and whipped about to face her opponent. The big man was on one knee and was starting to rise. Caitlyn was on him in an instant, flipping her halberd in her hands and jabbing its point deep into the shoulder of Tobias’s shield arm. Tobias let out a pained wail, but before Caitlyn could strike again, he surged upwards and spun about, his shield bashing her in the side.
Caitlyn grunted and backed away from Tobias as the big man tried to keep his shield held in position, his injured shoulder making this e
xtremely difficult. Tobias charged forward again and attempted an overhead chop, but Caitlyn spun outside of the attack and swung her halberd hard. The axe edge of the weapon connected soundly with the middle of his back, causing the man to let out a cry of pain.
Time to end this, Caitlyn decided.
She struck lightning quick, jabbing the halberd’s point into Tobias’s left calf. The man let out another cry of pain and returned to one knee. She swung the halberd once more, this powerful blow connecting with his broad chest, a loud crack ringing out as she made contact. Her five uncontested blows earned the victory for both her and her dojo. The crowd started cheering, but Caitlyn remained stoic, waiting for the official announcement. The shinpan stepped to the center of the combat floor and raised his hand towards Caitlyn.
“Tobias Knox is defeated! This puts Caitlyn Floyd’s personal pro-career victory count up to seventy-one, and earns her dojo, Percival Landing Kendo Club, the tournament victory! Congratulations to the victors!” the arena announcer declared.
Caitlyn once again smiled triumphantly and hoisted her halberd above her head as the crowd’s cheering intensified.
TWO
The Luxury Hover Car, known popularly as a Lux-car, cruised at fifty-five miles per hour while hovering two feet off the ground. Based on the most opulent of ancient limousines, these computer-operated, pill-shaped vehicles were available to all at exorbitant prices. Because of their costliness, most citizens of the Federation made use of less luxurious hover vehicles and public transportation when motorized travel was necessary. The state of Mustang was the sole manufacturer and maintainers of these vehicles and jealously guarded their craft, no one outside said state being privy to their trade secrets. They also maintained the solar panel roads used for providing power to both the hover cars and the nation’s infrastructure.
Maximilian Von Raben sat in the lavish passenger hold of the Lux-car, his attention fixed on a nanite screen-cloud, a cloud of microscopic robots that hovered at far end of the passenger hold and generated a flat rectangle of sharp, vibrantly colored motion images on command. Maximilian, known to most as Max, was a mildly handsome thirty-year-old man of average height with a frame that was ropy with muscle. His fair skin was lightly bronzed by the sun, his face decently formed and crowned by deep brown eyes, and his ebony hair was always kept short and spiky. He was a lieutenant-colonel in the VSF, or the Veriform Security Force, the private military force maintained by Veriform Holdings, his father’s corporation.
An educational program was playing on the screen-cloud. Images of various complex and alien looking devices were being displayed while a cheerful male narrator recited:
So, we all know that we’re surrounded by countless nanites, those helpful little microscopic robots. Inside our bodies they help stave off disease, repair injury, and maintain and improve overall physical integrity. The Cell nanite cluster augments our brains, allowing us to make phone calls which, to ancient humans, would seem like telepathic communications and communicate almost subconsciously with our HouseMinds, the synthetic intelligences which help operate our homes. Nanites form the molecule-thick screen-cloud you’re watching this program on right now. Nanites cover our clothing and most functional surfaces of our possessions and are in our cosmetics and tattoos, allowing us to change our fashion and decorating schemes with a mere thought. Almost no aspect of our lives is left untouched by the miraculous little constructs, but how are nanites made, and what makes them work? Well–
Max dismissed the screen-cloud with a slight hand gesture, causing it to instantly vanish. The Lux-car had coasted to a stop in front of the Cat governor’s mansion, a sprawling, single-storied edifice constructed of redwood logs and capped by a steep roof shingled in forest green. Once Max was out of the vehicle it maneuvered itself into a space at the end of a line of Lux-cars that were parked along the driveway. His HUD, a graphical user interface generated by his Cell cluster and superimposed over everything he looked at, informed him, among other things, that he was thirty miles west of the Cat capital of Perceval Landing, was facing north, and it was seventy-four degrees Fahrenheit outside. He strolled up the front walk and stopped before the guards stationed at the front door. Faint sounds of music could be heard coming from within the mansion.
“State your business,” one of the guards, a Cat ranger in full emerald parade dress, commanded as she eyed Max warily.
He noticed her grip tightening on her halberd and was quick to answer. “I’m VSF Lieutenant-Colonel Maximilian Von Raben, and I’m here to congratulate Caitlyn on her victory today,” he explained in his smooth, pleasing baritone.
“Identification, please?” the ranger requested.
Max held out his hand, and the ranger approached with the DNA scanning function of her Cell activated, as was evidenced by a soft yellow glow radiating from her left palm. The woman gripped Max’s wrist for a brief moment, allowing the nanites in her palm to scan the DNA in his skin cells. Seconds later, she released his wrist and took a step back.
“Thank you, Lieutenant-Colonel Von Raben,” the ranger said.
The ranger then went still and silent while Max’s HUD informed him she was currently using her Cell’s phone function by superimposing the words “ON PHONE” over her head. Moments later, the phone indicator on his HUD vanished, and the ranger stirred to action. Max was allowed to approach the door, which was opened from within by a handsome doorman dressed in a fine tuxedo. The servant moved aside, allowing Max to enter the mansion before leading him to a nearby parlor. The lavish parlor was filled with twenty men and women of varying ages, all clothed in expensive finery.
“Presenting VSF Lieutenant-Colonel Maximilian Von Raben!” the servant announced in a loud, commanding voice.
The partygoers turned their attention to Max and clapped politely for a moment. As the partygoers resumed their activities, a man and woman in their late-fifties broke from the crowd and approached arm-in-arm. The man wore a fine white tuxedo and was handsome with meticulously styled pepper-gray hair, a dazzling smile, and cheerful blue eyes. The woman wore a light green dress and was a blonde beauty with a regal face and a pair of sparkling blue eyes. Tiny wrinkles etched faint line in the corners of the eyes and mouths of the couple, the slightest hint of their aging. The man was Abraham Floyd, Governor of the State of Cat, and the woman was his wife, Danielle Mueller-Floyd.
Abraham’s smile was replaced by a disapproving glare as he drew close. “It’s good to see you again, Maximilian. How long’s it been?” the man greeted as he offered his hand, a noticeable coolness in his tone.
“Two years. Longer, maybe,” Max answered as he gave the man’s hand a brusque shake.
“So what brings you to our home?” Danielle asked as she gave Max a quick but affectionate hug.
“I’ve come to congratulate Caitlyn on her victory today,” Max explained.
Danielle giggled, “Maximilian, you travelled over a thousand miles just to congratulate my daughter?!”
An embarrassed Max smiled and shrugged, “Yeah, I sure did.”
“Can we get you anything, Max? A drink? Some food, perhaps?” the woman offered.
“No, thank you. I’ve also come with a request from my father. He got word of Caitlyn’s victory and wanted to congratulate her in person, but he can’t leave East Chieftown right now,” Maxwell related.
“So you’re asking if Caitlyn can go meet with your father,” Abraham concluded.
“Yes, Mr. Governor,” Max confirmed.
The governor was quiet for several charged moments. “Can you guarantee her safety?” he eventually asked.
“Absolutely,” Max quickly responded.
“The reason I ask is that both sides of Chieftown have been very dangerous as of late,” Abraham remarked, his coolness becoming frigidity.
“You know the Fulsoms would never attack your daughter. It'd be completely illegal,” Max assured his host.
“Your father's corporate war with the Fulsoms is becoming quite heated,
and innocent bystanders have a tendency of getting killed in war. Still, she’s a grown woman, so it’s really up to her if she goes, isn't it? She’s out back under her tree, if you’d like to go ask her yourself,” Abraham informed him.
“Thank you, sir. If you’d excuse me,” Max said before departing.
“Young love,” Danielle remarked wistfully.
“Tell me about it,” Abraham muttered with distaste.
#
Max exited the mansion through its back door and headed across the lush green backyard towards the only feature breaking up its uniform flatness, a massive oak tree located roughly fifty yards away. He knew Caitlyn would be sitting at the base of tree, admiring the forested countryside that stretched away behind the mansion grounds, an activity she had enjoyed since she was a little girl. He had first met Caitlyn when they were both in kindergarten. Their fathers, being prominent figures in the Federation, often had dealings with one another, so Max and Caitlyn were able to get together quite frequently, and, as a result, quickly became fast friends. In their teens they began dating, and by the time they finished high school they were very much in love. Unfortunately, Max’s pseudo-military duties had kept them apart for much of the last decade, and two years ago he had begrudgingly relented when Caitlyn decided to start dating other people.
Now he was coming to see her for the first time in two years and was bursting with excitement. He arrived at the tree and rounded its bulk with the expectation of coming upon Caitlyn sitting at its base. Instead, he found himself alone. “Caitlyn?” he called.
A forceful blow unexpectedly connected with the middle of his back, sending a flare of pain through him as he stumbled forward and lost his balance. As he fell towards the ground, his martial training kicked in, and he reflexively executed an acrobatic roll, allowing him to spring back into a standing position. His feet had barely touched the ground when he whipped about and dropped into a defensive combat stance. He was not sure what he was expecting, but it was not to find Caitlyn standing in a combat stance of her own, a pleasant smile on her lovely face, her golden hair falling perfectly upon her shoulders, and a stylish blue wrap-style dress on her body. As always, he was hopelessly taken with her beauty, and for several moments he stood admiring her with complete adoration.
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