by Jared Paul
"Then let's finish the job, once and for all," strongly suggested Deadstock as he unsheathed his famous knife. The Dragon's Tooth glimmered as he positioned to attack.
"With pleasure," maliciously smiled Zero.
Upon that grave altar, the two muscular titans launched in a bloodthirsty leap for the other. Hand to hand and steel to steel was their combat. Flesh was cut. Elbows knocked into faces and knees shoved into guts. It was the unleashing of pure brute strength. It was awe.
Unexpectedly, the Overlord cried out in pain. With a punch to the old wound on his side, Zero had claimed advantage over him. The Commander then locked his limbs from behind, entangled with the retractable machete scraping closely against his neck. Struggling with the Dragon's Tooth, Zero began forcing the Overlord's grip toward his own heart. The tip was nearly at his chest. Zero was going to force the Overlord to kill himself.
The Commander jeered as he pressed the blade closer, drawing blood, "Why are you fighting so hard to stay alive? Just let go. Unless, you've lied to me and you truly are afraid of pain."
"Have you already forgotten, Zero?" Deadstock grunted, "I've felt the cold steel of a knife pushing through my flesh before. But have you?"
Then, the Overlord did the unthinkable. Slightly lowering himself in Zero's grip, he allowed the Dragon's Tooth to puncture into him. The long and narrow blade pierced all the way through, below his shoulder and above his heart for a survivable wound. Right behind, however, Zero was not as fortunate. He lost his breath, gulping for air as the tip of the knife shoved directly into his heart. Immediately, the entanglement broke free as Zero fell limp. The Overlord then lifted his defeated nemesis up into the air. Miraculously holding the mammoth of a man high above his head, he threw him down hard upon the face of the altar. The Commander crashed ruinously onto the old shrine as his blood poured out.
If happiness and sorrow could ever coexist at the same time, it would best describe Fossil in that moment. A brother's duty had come to an end. Though he mourned, Fossil was free.
Withstanding the suffering, Deadstock tortuously slid out the Dragon's Tooth from its place of impalement. The wound gushed out from either end and he quickly pressed a hand over the front opening. Standing above the vanquished Commander, the challenge was measured complete. It was over and Zero was fading fast.
Fossil took a knee and reverently bowed in the Thrall manner, a fist over his heart. "All hail the rightful Overlord!"
The surrounding legions of the Thralldom, myself included, followed his lead. The whole arena then bowed in tribute. Deadstock soaked it all in, observing the reverent ritual being done in his honor around him.
We chanted, "Hail, Overlord! Hail, Overlord!"
Zero, himself, wasn't completely gone, but he would be dead soon enough. "The world is yours again, Doctor. I was mad to think I could take it from you."
"I don't want this world," lamented the Overlord as he bent down to the level of his old friend and enemy. "I never wanted to rule it. All I wanted to do was make sure that no one ever did."
"Don't worry," wheezed Zero. "It won't be yours for very long. I will be avenged. The Space Wizard is coming for you all."
Deadstock took pity, "Zero, you should know better than to believe your own lies."
Hysterical, the Commander began cackling as a great shadow came hovering over the altar. The lightless eminence then overtook the whole arena and all became darkness. Looking up, it was the pyramid. The structure was lining up directly above the center of the altar.
"What have you done?" The Overlord slipped off his shades, revealing horror in his eyes.
"Far Stranger," whispered the Commander into the air. "Awaken the volcano."
Blaring, humming, and juddering, the pyramid of mysterious capabilities wafted directly over Zero. Upon the altar, a steady trickle of blood was flowing down his arm, over his hand, and onto the center of the platform. The whole base began to glow as it drank his crimson life force. The ancient dais was energizing, absorbing the fuel of his blood.
Zero's raspy laughter continued. "I had planned to use your blood for this, but you have already spilled mine. By shedding my blood, you have just fueled the greatest weapon this earth has ever seen."
"You're out of tricks," debated the Overlord. "Scare tactics aren't going to work with me."
"Look around you," instructed Zero. "The forest was grown post-volcanic. The waterfall range that encircles us was the rim of a crater. The altar at your feet was the seal of an enormous magma pipe. And the pyramid currently above your head serves as a giant superconductor, housing the Wandering Star at its core. The violet flames of the Thralldom will be ignited once again. You thought you could take me to hell, Doctor, but I've already brought hell to you."
The Overlord stepped back toward us, fear in his face. "Everyone, run!"
A burst of purple light then bellowed from the center of the altar as a beam just like it came down from the midst of the glassy pyramid above. The two glowing columns met and conjoined. At first glance, I thought it was the challenge pillar, but it proved to be no simple illumination. It was fire, purple fire.
"I've failed," Deadstock spoke quietly to himself, transfixed by the terrible sight.
"You failed a long time ago," croaked Zero, agonizingly.
Every crystalline panel of the immense pyramid then refracted the fire at different angles. Hot, violet lasers shot out in all directions. Soil, rocks, and ranks of Thralls all went blasting into the air. The levitating structure then began to rotate, spin, and invert. It adjusted into a massive, triangular prism. Its upturned tip was aimed directly down for the magma pipe below. Revolving and pulsating a beam of awful fire, the lasers were focused into one source.
The altar melted. The earth sank beneath it as the surrounding ground spewed up into the sky. The last time anyone saw Commander Zero, he was slipping down into that enflamed abyss. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks, but it was if he just disappeared. I lost sight of him as lava began seeping out from the natural vents of the volcano. My view of the sinking altar was obstructed by the disarray. When I caught sight of it again, Zero's place remained, but he was gone. It almost seemed as if a weaving had taken place, but that simply wouldn't be possible.
The Commander had been mortally wounded. Speculating the possibilities of his survival felt unreasonable. Still, it left me wanting more. There was no gruesome death or poetic justice. He had simply vanished without any hope to ever be found. Maybe that was justice enough, in itself.
Meanwhile, the Lair was overcome with the flow of the lava. Trees burned in the seepage while buildings were brought down to rubble. The Thralls were already fleeing, but it was too late for most. Between the charred dirt and the smoke filled sky, there was nothing worse than the smell of human flesh being burned. The blistering of a body is unforgettable. I'll never escape the memory of the sweltering odor I had to breathe in from that rising hell.
Fossil was guiding several of us toward a safe path, if such a thing could even be found that day. The Overlord had won the day, but the day was dead. There would be no time to look back as we ran across the mouth of an awakening volcano. I only glanced off once, and that was when I caught sight of the "Tomahawk." I was half tempted to veer off toward the wreckage, but the Overlord had already beaten me to it.
I knew Sentria probably hadn't lasted the crash, but Deadstock's determination sparked a little hope. By way of sweat and tears, he passed into that dismal wreckage not as an Overlord, but as a father. He returned from that blackened debris with a treasured cargo in his arms.
18
THE WEAVING
From the view of the "Beast of Burden," lava could be see spouting across the whole Lair. The very ground was giving way, melting into hot sludge. Nothing could hide from the red fire and its hot fumes.
On board the "Beast of Burden," I, President Nightwood, had ordered my fleet to stand clear of the slow destruction. The carnage beyond had us all engrossed. In silence, we wondered w
hat would come next as we beheld the awful sight through our observation windows. No one said a word, that is, until I received an unexpected call for help from a voice coated in static.
It began inaudibly. Most signals were jammed and the audio was not coming in clear enough to make out who it was or what they were trying to say. I quickly ordered my communications officer to try to isolate the transmission.
Anxiously, the voice called out, "This is Dr. Deadstock. Is anyone there? Radio check. Radio check. United Corps, do you read?"
"This is Nightwood," I confirmed into the receiver. "I can read you loud and clear. Report your status."
"I'm in the outlying forest, west of the Lair," he spoke swiftly in a panicked state. "I need a pick-up for myself and a wounded. Do you copy?"
"Copy that," I replied. "We are pinpointing your position as we speak. Stay with me, Doctor. Can you tell me what's going on down there?"
He explained, "Commander Zero is dead, but he managed to have the Wandering Star weaponized before I killed him. There was nothing I could do. He had everything set in place before I even got there. Ember, this is nothing short of annihilation. I don't think it's just the Lair that will fall from this power. I think we've all just been scheduled for extermination."
The developing information surely had me surprised, but unexpectedly, it also had me scared. "What? What do you mean?"
"It's the Blood Tech," Deadstock answered. "It's not to equip an army this time, like in the Last War. It's been concentrated into a single weapon."
I sought a little more clarification, "What kind of weapon are we dealing with here?"
He radioed back, "Zero's doomsday weapon was in front of us the whole time. It's the pyramid. It's magnifying a laser into the heart of the volcano. This whole place is going to blow."
"I understand," I confirmed.
Deadstock reminded, "How's that extraction coming along? I don't know how much longer I can last out here. I've got a wounded that needs immediate help and this forest is starting to heat up pretty fast!"
"Our scans are showing hot plumes all around your position." I concluded, "My ship would never make it through. It's too dangerous. You will have to come to me."
"I expected you'd say that," he said without sign of ill will. "I'm losing ground by the second, though. I don't think I'll be making it very far!"
I pushed fervently, "You are going to have to try! Drop your wounded. Forget the Thrall and make a run for it!"
"Ember, it's Sentria," the Overlord emphatically revealed. "She's unconscious, but she's alive. Did you copy that? I have Sentria in my possession!"
I paused for longer than any mother should before I finally returned, "Copy on Sentria."
"I'm not leaving without her," he adamantly vowed.
"I hear you! Just hold on! Let me think!" I then scrambled a plan with my officers on the bridge. Looking over our digital charts of the area, we came to a decision. "Alright, I think I have a way of getting the two of you out of there. A quarter mile from your position is a large ravine were the lava flow has not yet reached. However, the gorge wall is destabilizing every moment and I will not risk my crew. Therefore, my ship will maneuver to extract you at the brink of that canyon. No further. You will have to jump for it, but this is the best that I can do."
Deadstock nervously agreed through the radio, "Copy that. At this point, I'll take whatever I can get!"
"Good," I approved back. "The ravine will be due west from you. It is impossible to miss, so keep moving."
Determined, he promised, "I'll be there!"
"I will be waiting," I guaranteed. "Now run!"
My ship was soon waiting at the edge of the Lair's end. It was a daunting height that would mean death if the jump went wrong. Searching for any sign of him, he finally rushed out of the maze of fire and lava with our daughter latched upon his back. She was out cold and the hot destruction was nearly at Deadstock's heels. It was as if the burning path had followed him to the very edge. The earth was shifting, the trees were toppling, and the gorge wall was slowly crumbling in the upset.
As the side hatch of my ship opened to them, I will admit that I had my doubts as to whether or not this plan was actually going to work. He was going to jump and all we could do was pray that his fall found its way into our door. I do not known how Deadstock found the courage.
Mortal without the Wandering Star, he had no weaving to help him. Wounded from the duel, he had no assurances at all. It was just a hopeful plunge off the edge of a cliff. A true leap of faith, if you will.
Let me make it clear that it was not a distance of a few feet. It was an adrenaline punching drop that would devastate the ambition of most. A few of my personnel were leaning out from the hatch, willing to lend an extended hand if his jump was undershot. It was the closest thing to a safety net that we could offer.
He stepped up. We were ready with an upward tilt with the hatch toward his trajectory. He then stepped back, fearful, only to find the fire had finally reached his back. The trees around him groaned. They were going to fall forward, onto the ship. Without further choice, he took his cue to step off the cliff. He launched out into the open air while the upset earth pushed out the large timbers at the same time. Falling with him, the weighty trunks smashed into the broadside of the "Beast of Burden."
My pilot lost control as the engines lost stability. The force of the timbers caused the tilting to swing to the other side. The jump was missed. The tree trunks rolled off our shell, but Deadstock and my daughter were gone.
Then, we caught sight of a weave. Particles were forming in front of the open hatch. Five fingers were forming, reaching up from below to my crew at the opening. They reached down and grabbed the formed hand with all haste. The attached pixilation then came to life as the weaving came to a close. It was Deadstock. With the weight of Sentria on his back and shoulders, he was losing grip. In all strength and discomfort, my crew pulled him up over the ledge of the hatch's opening. The two were secured and safely inside the ship.
The side hatch was then quickly sealed and the flying rubble, lava, and rock were of no more concern as we took off. I would have considered it fortunate to be unconscious through that whole ordeal. Upon informing Sentria, however, she was saddened to hear that she had missed the excitement of it all.
As for the weave that had been made, none of us had an answer to explain how it occurred. Equally astonished, Deadstock denied any part with it. A weaving would be impossible unless the Wandering Star was inside of him, which it was not as we all knew well. Thus, someone else had manipulated their matter to save their lives. Whoever it was, or whatever the case, one thing was for certain. We were being watched.
19
THE PLAGUE OF PHANTOMS
There is still much to tell, but I, Ember Nightwood, cannot fully retell anything more through the eyes of a President. The rest of my portion, I must tell as a wife, as only such a woman could hope to voice what happened next.
After my crew had retrieved my husband along with our daughter, we quickly brought them both into the infirmary of my ship. Deadstock's wounds were cleaned, cauterized, and closed while his veins were hooked up to a replenishing supply from all the blood he had lost. Sentria had regained consciousness, but needed rest from a sustained head injury. It was not severe, but she would have to be on her back for the next twenty-four hours. From a hallway window, I watched my medical team as they fussed about with the both of them.
I walked in slowly, not wanting to interrupt, but found it impossible as I asked, "How did you find her?"
Deadstock winced with a grunt as his main wound was being mended, "There wasn't much time, but I had to know for sure if she was alive before I could even think about leaving her there. Live wires were sparking everywhere, dangling from the broken panels inside. The entire ship was a wreck. It's a miracle she survived that mess. I found her, face down on the controls. Her head was hit pretty hard, but she was alive without any other visible injuries."
/> "Sir." One of my medical crew interjected as they helped him. "Please, try not to move."
"Sorry." Deadstock continued, keeping still with minimal body language. "You know, I never would've made it out if I hadn't gone back for her. There was no way of communicating to anyone without the use of her radio. If it wasn't for Sentria, I don't where I'd be right now, and I don't even want to think about what could've happened to her."
I tenderly knelt beside Sentria and brushed my hand across her resting face. "I am forever in your debt for this."
"You don't owe me anything," he insisted. "It was a father's duty, nothing more."
Half-awake, Sentria groaned out, "Where is he?"
"Who?" I asked.
Untangling himself from the many tubes and the hands of the medical crew, Deadstock swiftly came rushing over to Sentria's bedside. "It's me, Sentria. I'm here."
"It was you, wasn't it? You got me out of there," she deducted with a smile.
Both of their hands then clasped tightly into each other's as Deadstock said, "I got you, Sentria. Know that I always will. Whatever happens, I've got you."
He then pulled out the banner of red, white, and blue from the remains of his scattered gear. It took me by surprise. In our wasteland world, it was always unexpected to see any flag. Though I was a Canadian, seeing "Old Glory" was like meeting a close friend after a long time, having parted without knowing when you were ever going to see them again. Somehow, time had brought you back to each other.
Sentria had given him the flag and now he was giving it back. "I need you to keep this safe. It's done its part with me. Where I'm going, I'm not going to need it anymore, but you will." He gently placed the banner in her hands as Sentria examined the tattered, stained cloth. "It's got blood all over it. I'm sorry."
"It's a symbol of liberty," she replied spiritedly. "It's supposed to have blood on it."
