by Tripp Ellis
Nolan diligently sutured Elijah’s wounds. He worked with the skill and precision of a trained surgeon. This wasn't the first time he had dressed wounds in the field, and it wasn't going to be the last. On a remote planet like Sargol, far from civilization, you learned to fend for yourself. But even the civilized world wasn't what it used to be. Sorcerers and mages replaced traditional doctors for more serious ailments. Magic could sometimes cure what medicine could not. But those who wielded magic were becoming harder to find.
Nolan tied off the last stitch. “There. Good as new.”
Elijah gave him a sideways glance. "Not quite new. Slightly used. Scratched and dented.” He started to chuckle, but it hurt too much, and his grin faded to a grimace.
“Shhhh!” Nolan hissed. “Don't move," he whispered as his eyes focused on a vygar. The beast was staring them down, not more than 10 yards away.
Its heavy breath rumbled, and fog billowed from its nostrils in the crisp air.
Nolan's eyes flicked to the side, looking for his crossbow. It was just out of reach, and unloaded. There was no way to grab it and load it in time. The beast would be upon him as soon as he made a move. Perhaps sooner.
4
Nolan reached down with caution and grabbed the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it from its scabbard. The deadly eyes of the vygar locked into Nolan's. Ever so gently, he eased the sword from the scabbard.
The beast sunk down on its haunches like it was going to spring forward. Nolan locked eyes with the demon, staring him down. He prepared for the attack. But instead of lunging forward, the beast darted to the side and disappeared into the wilderness.
Nolan breathed a sigh of relief. His elevated heartbeat began to slow.
“I've never seen one back down like that before," Elijah said.
Nolan shrugged and sheathed his sword. “Maybe he saw what happened to his comrades and thought better of it."
“I didn’t think they were that smart.”
“Don't underestimate them.” Nolan's cautious eyes kept scanning the forest, making sure the beast didn't return. It wouldn't be unlike a vygar to return with the rest of the pack.
"What are we gonna do with all this meat?” Elijah asked. Even field dressed, the vygars weighed upwards of 400 pounds each. Far too much to haul back to the village, especially with Elijah’s weakened condition.
“I'll field dress them. We can leave them here. I'll come back to get them later. The snow will keep the meat from spoiling. If I don't dress them, they’ll freeze, making it harder later."
Elijah tried to sit up, but the pain stopped him.
“Just take it easy. Save your strength for the journey home.” Nolan stood up and moved to one of the fallen animals.
He drew his hunting knife from his belt. The razor-sharp blade glimmered. The steel was 7 inches long, with serrations on the spine. Nolan knelt down beside the creature, and with the skill of a surgeon, sliced its belly from groin to sternum, carving through the peritoneal cavity. Nolan was careful not to rupture the stomach or intestines. The smell was bad enough as it was. Severing organs, spilling bile and digestive juices, would sully the tenderloins.
Steam wafted from the warm insides. Nolan sliced through the sternum, prying open the rib cage. He severed the animal’s trachea, then pulled the entire mass of organs out of the carcass in one swoop, all the way down to the groin. The carcass was now 100 pounds lighter. But even still, the vygar was too heavy for Nolan to hoist off the ground on his own.
“You can't just leave them on the ground. Varmints and bugs will get after them,” Elijah cautioned. “There will be nothing left by the time you return.”
“Well, I was kind of thinking there would be two of us to do the job.”
Elijah shrugged. “Sorry."
“If I had some enchanted rope, I bet I could hoist this vygar up,” Nolan surmised.
“Good luck finding any of that around here.”
“I should have bought some when I had the chance. Who knows the next time we will see a trade ship.”
Nolan surveyed the fallen carcasses. It was an enormous amount of meat. Enough to feed multiple families. Life on the frontier was difficult, and nothing was ever allowed to go to waste. You never knew when something was going to affect the harvest, or when the hunt would come up empty-handed.
Nolan continued to field dress the rest of the animals. By the time he was finished, he was covered in blood. He wiped his hands on his pants legs. Blood crusted underneath his fingernails and in the grooves of his hands. His handmade clothes were stained and it looked like he had been in a vicious battle.
Nolan scoured the area for the enchanted arrows. He found all but one and returned them to their quiver. They were the kind of things that you didn’t leave lying around in the snow. They were good for more than one use, unless they were broken, or lost.
Nolan marched back to Elijah. "Do you think you can stand?
Elijah nodded.
Nolan crouched down and slung Elijah's arm over his shoulder, helping him to his feet.
Elijah grimaced with pain. He was a little unsteady on his feet. “I’m okay,” he said, reassuring Nolan.
“I’ll get Jayden and Kai to return with me. We'll bring a sled and haul the vygars back,” Nolan said.
“They’re not going to do that for free.”
“There's more than enough meat to go around. I'm sure that will be payment enough.“
"These are going to be good eating,” Elijah said, mustering a grin.
"I'm sure that's what they thought about us." Nolan paused a moment. “You saved my life. I owe you one.“
"I think we’re even," Elijah said. “Besides, it would be pretty boring around here without you.”
Nolan helped Elijah march back down the mountainside toward the valley. They trudged through the snow, their feet sinking deep into the powder. The terrain was rugged, and it wasn't long before the two of them were drenched in sweat, despite the cold.
“You give anymore thought to my idea?” Elijah asked.
“I've thought about it."
“And?"
Nolan shrugged.
“I mean, you don't want to stay around here forever, do you?"
Nolan shrugged again.
“Don't you wonder what's out there? I mean, you want to see the galaxy, don't you?"
Nolan was silent a moment. “Yeah, I guess. But it's not that bad here. There are worse places. My family is here. My friends are here."
“Lila is here,” Elijah said, teasing.
“Shut up.”
“Oh, come on. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”
Nolan shrugged it off. “No she doesn’t.”
“Please.”
Nolan shot him a look. “I’m just saying, when you think about it, we’ve got a good life here. If we run off and join the Republic Navy, there are no guarantees.”
“But don’t you worry about the Empire? Valdovar is a tyrant. They say he’s not even human anymore. They say he can’t be killed.”
“All the more reason not to stand against him,” Nolan cautioned. “Besides we are far too small a colony to draw his interest.”
“You’re naïve if you think we will stay out of the war forever.”
Nolan shrugged. “I guess I’m naive.”
5
“When are you going to tell him?” Isabella asked. She was a beautiful woman in her mid 40s. Light eyes and sandy blonde hair. Frontier life had given her more fine lines than she deserved for her age. She stood in the kitchen preparing dinner.
“Soon,” Logan replied. He had dark hair and a trimmed beard. He was a hard man, but fair. Broad shouldered and carved of stone. He was as handy with the sword as he was with the plow. Though, at this stage in his life, he preferred the plow.
“It's his 18th birthday. If not now, when?"
Logan grimaced, and his eyes filled with conflict.
“He deserves to know the truth."
"I know. I p
romise, I'll tell him everything soon.” Logan took a heavy breath.
Isabella could see Logan was deeply troubled. She moved to his side and put a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder. “I'm as concerned as you are. He's bound to have some resentment.”
“How would you feel?”
Isabella paused for a moment. "Angry, I suppose?” She sighed. “But he’s a smart boy. He will understand.”
“For the last 18 years I have lived and breathed that child."
Isabella smiled. “Nolan knows you love him. He knows what sacrifices you’ve made for this family. He idolizes you. You have the kind of relationship that every father wants to have with his son.”
“I don’t want that to change.”
“It never will,” she reassured him. “Now put a smile on your face. It is a happy day.”
Logan grinned, flashing a brilliant smile. “Indeed it is.” But Logan’s smile soon faded. His face tensed, and worry filled his eyes.
Isabella gazed at him, confused. “What is it?”
Logan listened intensely, but Isabella didn't hear a thing. She watched as he stormed toward the door, grabbing his sword that leaned against the wall. He unsheathed it, and pushed the door open. As he did, Logan called back to Isabella, “Get in the cellar. Hide, and don’t come out.”
“What is it?” she asked, but Logan had already stormed outside.
Within a few seconds, Isabella could finally hear the dreaded rumble of several aerial vehicles approaching.
Isabella grabbed a knife from the kitchen, then pulled back the rug that exposed a hatch that led down to the cellar. She pulled open the hatch and climbed down the ladder a few steps. She pulled the flap of the rug back over the top of the hatch so that it would, hopefully, conceal the door in the floor when she pulled it closed.
In the street, Logan joined the makeshift militia that was forming in response to the coming invaders. They were armed with swords and shields, and a few had spelled guns—but that kind of firepower was quite rare. The village was comprised of several hundred families. Prefabricated modular structures made up the homes in the center of the village—part of the original supplies when the outpost was seeded. As it expanded over the years, the settlers built adobe type structures. The original power generator of the outpost still functioned, and the village was one of the few small settlements that had the luxury. There was no telling how much longer the fuel-cell would last, and with the expansion, the grid was getting pretty taxed. It was several hundred years old.
Logan, and the militia, had to defend their village on many occasions before, but they had faced nothing like the coming invasion force. The armored dropships descended through the clouds, and there was a growing sense of dread among the militia. The mere sight of the aerial vehicles was enough to strike fear into the hearts of all who saw them.
As the spell cannons pummeled the village, the devastation was overwhelming. The villagers didn't have the firepower to match. Structures were incinerated with a single blast. Brilliant explosions tore apart the buildings, spewing shrapnel and debris. Villagers shrieked with terror, scattering in all directions.
The ground shook beneath Logan's feet with each blast. He could hear the horrid cries of the wounded. The few with spell guns returned fire, but the weaponry wasn't powerful enough to damage the hulking gunships.
Logan and the other members of the militia took cover as best they could. The gunships were softening up their targets before they landed. Logan clenched his jaw and anger filled his face. His cheeks grew red, and the veins in his neck pulsed. He felt helpless as the merciless onslaught continued.
The village was a small outpost on the edge of the former Federation—utterly meaningless to either the Imperial Realm or the Republic of Xevelor. Why the Empire would bother invading was beyond Logan’s comprehension.
6
Nolan and Elijah were several hundred yards from their village when they saw the dropships descend. The village militia had gathered together, preparing to resist the invaders. Spell cannons blasted from the dropships. Blistering bolts impacted the ground, launching geysers of dirt and debris, incinerating flesh and bone.
Nolan’s face filled with rage. He and Elijah both sprinted toward the action. Elijah pushed aside his discomfort as a surge of adrenaline washed through his body.
Nolan drew an arrow from his quiver and loaded it into his crossbow. The weapon was no match for the awesome power of the Imperial Soturi, but Nolan wasn't about to sit back and do nothing.
The dropships landed. Ramps lowered, and hordes of Soturi spilled out the vehicles. Most carried swords, but there was typically one spell rifleman per platoon.
Spell rifles were in short supply, and they were of limited use. The magic crystals that enabled them to fire would be depleted quickly in a combat situation. The same for the massive spell cannons on the dropships. They were good for about a dozen shots.
The horde of Soturi let out an ominous war cry as they stormed the village. Swords clanked and clattered as they engaged the militia. Energy bolts streaked across the terrain, eviscerating the villagers. It was pure chaos. Swords hacked and slashed. Limbs were severed. Blood spurted from stumps, splattering the white snow. The villagers fought valiantly, but the Soturi were overwhelming.
Nolan fell to the ground behind a berm and took aim at one of the Soturi. His finger squeezed the trigger. The arrow launched from the track, blazing through the air. It smashed into the invader, penetrating his armor. The warrior clattered to the ground. One down, hundreds more to go.
The incident had drawn the attention of the other Soturi, and a flurry of energy bolts blasted in Nolan's direction. Some of them shot over his head, while others impacted the berm.
Nolan grabbed another arrow from his quiver. He put it into the track, then rolled onto his back, flattening himself against the berm. He put his foot into the stirrup and cocked the crossbow until it latched. It was an awkward maneuver, but standing up to cock the crossbow would have made him an easy target. He angled the bow over the berm again and took aim at another invader. The arrow blazed across the battlefield, piercing the chest plate of another warrior, leaving a shell of armor on the ground.
Elijah tried to load his crossbow, but was having difficulties. He lacked the strength. Pulling the taught string back was difficult with his wounds, but he muscled through it. In the process he tore the sutures, and blood oozed from the incisions.
The company of Soturi were making short work of the resistance. Nolan could hear the moans and wails of his people as they were brutally stabbed and slashed. The sound of swords piercing flesh, and guts spilling onto the ground, filled the air.
Nolan kept firing at the invaders and ducking behind the berm to evade their return blasts. Another squad of Soturi advanced towards Nolan's position. He reached into his quiver and loaded his last enchanted arrow into the crossbow. He used the same awkward maneuver to cock the weapon.
Elijah did the same.
They both took aim over the berm and fired their last shots at the oncoming squad. Their aim was dead solid perfect. Two more Soturi fell to the snow. Two kept approaching.
"What are we supposed to do now?" Elijah asked, realizing they were both out of arrows.
Nolan shrugged. "I don't know. Fight until we die?"
Elijah flashed a grim smile. "Sounds good to me."
Nolan pushed off the ground and charged over the berm, drawing his sword. It glowed blue from the magic contained within the blade. Nolan let out an angry war cry as he ran toward the Soturi. He had fought plenty of barbarians and pirates, but never trained warriors. Never Imperial Soturi. They had a reputation of being ruthless killers. Fearless and devoted. They would never back down. They would never surrender. They would fight until death. The Soturi had no choice.
Nolan didn't care. Rage consumed him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Every nerve in his body tingled with energy. His heart pounded in his chest. Everything he knew and loved was in t
hat village. His parents, his friends, and Lila. He was willing to sacrifice everything to protect them.
Nolan had taken out the riflemen in the approaching squad with his arrows. The two Soturi that charged toward him carried only swords. Nolan ran as fast as he could and swung his blade with all his might. It smashed against the warrior’s sword, showering a few sparks. The clamor of metal echoed throughout the valley.
Elijah engaged the other Imperial Knight, hacking and slashing. Each heft of his sword caused searing pain in his chest from his previous wounds. His attacks were weak, and he lacked his usual speed. But Elijah fought with everything he had. If their village was going to be wiped from the galaxy, he and Nolan were going to take as many of these Imperial Soturi with them as possible.
7
Nolan heaved the heavy spell sword, clashing against the enemy's broadsword. The impact rattled his hands. He felt the bone jarring sensation all the way up his arm. The Soturi slashed at Nolan, and he faded back and to the side. The Soturi lunged the point of his blade toward Nolan's belly. Nolan dodged and parried, then clobbered the Soturi in the head with the pommel of his sword. It didn't do much good smacking against the Soturi’s heavy helmet.
The warrior slashed his deadly blade.
Nolan whipped his sword around and deflected the blow. The two exchanged strikes, the blades clanking and clamoring.
Nolan heaved for breath, the fight was more tiring than he had anticipated—dodging and defending against the powerful strikes, moving around in the deep snow, throwing his full weight behind each blow.
Nolan ducked as the warrior’s blade swished overhead. Nolan lunged forward, thrusting the point of his blade into the enemy’s belly, between the plates of armor. He put his full weight against the blade, driving it through the invader.
