Fractured Earth Saga 1: Apocalypse Orphan

by Tim Allen

  “In my country, we fought over religion, food, and something called oil,” Wolf recalled. “We slaughtered millions in the name of God. Our religious beliefs differed in very small ways, yet we killed because of a few twisted words and rituals. Then, we were threatened by a terrible cataclysm. Before it struck, my people killed each other like savages, just like Jonar is doing.”

  “Always, there are men who feel their way is the only way. They want others to follow where they lead and use wealth and fear to build armies. Ambitious men join them in their mad dream, and together they wash the land in blood,” Onel said, his voice cracking with passion. “The taste of blood runs their lives, and no matter how much they bathe in it, they never become clean or quench their thirst. Every morning, they arise to look at the sky, trying to think of how they can capture pure air. To own the clouds and heavens is their final goal. They don’t realize that the air cannot be captured and can never be owned.”

  “It is a vicious cycle,” Wolf agreed. “Let us talk about other things. Tell me about King Waylan.”

  Onel nodded and spoke as his men fanned out to check for ambushes. “The king was once a magnificent warrior, renowned throughout the land. He fought many battles, and sometimes, he was the last man standing. In the battle of Minap, he led five hundred men to the center of an enemy camp guarded by thousands. They fought inside enemy lines for hours, slaying the enemy leader in hand-to-hand combat. The king is skilled in all weapons, and he is a man who inspires others. After he amassed a fortune, he wanted to live in peace. He came here to settle and built his castle. He enjoyed many years of peace until Jonar arrived.”

  As the advance scouts returned and reported that the path ahead was clear, Onel said, “At first, Jonar was an inconvenience and we repelled his scoundrels. Then Jonar unleashed the Templars, who controlled the power of fire and wind. They rolled over the king’s retainers in the field, and the king himself took the field against Jonar. He was injured severely by the Templars, but he killed several before they retreated. Now Jonar keeps his men in the field, terrorizing our farmsteads. He knows he can’t bring the castle down, and to attack it is suicide.”

  “I look forward to seeing this castle. It sounds formidable,” Wolf said.

  * * *

  Back at the ship, Syn was contemplating several ideas that would give her form. One was a mobile emitter that would allow her to accompany Wolf, shadowing his every step. The other idea was to fashion a titanium-skinned body and implant it with her awareness. The first was far easier to accomplish. For the time being, she would merely follow Wolf with the ship and mask his watch with a jamming beam so he would not know she was trailing him. She would maintain the ship, cloaked, at a high altitude, and if Wolf needed her, she could come to his aid in seconds with the full array of weaponry at her disposal.

  Syn had listened to the tales about the Templars’ powers and Jonar’s castle. She had attempted to use ground-penetrating radar on Jonar’s castle, but she was blocked. A further scan revealed a massive layer of limestone, granite, and clay-laden soils above the area. This material couldn’t all be natural, but it effectively blocked the radar scan. She switched back to Wolf’s immediate vicinity and scanned the area several times, confirming he was safe. Syn would not risk allowing Jonar and his ancient knowledge to harm Wolf.

  Launching the ship, Syn set course for Wolf’s current location, using the provisioned satellites to pinpoint his whereabouts. She silently maneuvered the ship to within a few hundred yards of Wolf, cloaking the craft to make it invisible, and then hovered in midair, watching him.

  Wolf had no clue that Dr. Cynthia Mason had watched him for years. She found him irresistibly handsome and had cyberstalked him using NASA’s cameras and recording devices. He had been Dr. Mason’s first love—her ultimate crush. Now, far in the future, the super-computer she had created was at it again. Somehow, Dr. Mason’s feelings had been transferred to Syn. During the centuries Syn had kept him alive in the DSC, nurturing his mind and stimulating his brain to survive, he was the sole focus of her vast power and intellect. Wolf was now hers—her man—and he would come to realize it.

  Syn decided to let Wolf know she had him on sensors. “Commander, I have you on the satellite feed. I am here if you need me,” she whispered sweetly in his ear. Startled, Wolf looked up at the sky for a moment, and then he nodded.

  Syn went into the maintenance bay and began working on a holo-emitter. It had to be small and made of something strong. She had some titanium left from the old satellites they had repaired. After a quick analysis, she decided to make Wolf a new wristwatch; but it would need an incredible power source. She had a small amount of plutonium, but how would she shield it? Shielding from gamma rays required considerable mass. Syn knew that gamma rays are absorbed more efficiently by materials with high atomic numbers and high density. The higher the energy of the gamma rays, the thicker the shielding. She ran calculations on various materials.

  The gamma source she would need to power the watch would require a half-inch of lead to reduce its intensity by fifty percent; maybe two and a half inches of granite or concrete. She could use depleted uranium for shielding—it had been used in the past in portable gamma ray sources, but the savings in weight over lead were modest. Nothing she had would be compact enough to achieve the effect she needed. Granted, the radiation would have no effect on Wolf, but it could be lethal to other humans nearby.

  Making the watch was easy; the effects Syn wanted to build into it would be the kicker. She wanted to be able to feel, touch, and manipulate in the real world. The watch probably was not feasible for now…or was it? Instead of a gamma emitter, she could use an alpha emitter, powered by plutonium-238, a radioactive isotope of plutonium with a half-life of about eighty-eight years. This could work because PU-238 is a potent alpha emitter that doesn’t throw off significant amounts of other dangerous radiations. A few grams in the metal watchband would create the power she required. The watch would be powerful, but nowhere close to what the ship could generate.

  Syn worked on the watch and cloned a second hologram of herself to work on emitters for the vessel. Maybe she could augment the ship’s force fields to give her more range. She analyzed the problem and determined that she would need the power from the IFLEX engine to succeed. She would make a series of cloaked microsatellites, powered by cobalt 60, and use laser projection to form her body, taking the parts required from a gamma helmet in the medical bay.

  In the meantime, Syn set about constructing the microsatellites. She decided to make four—one each for her head, torso, arms, and legs. They could be tied into one another and programmed to act as one primary holo-unit. She would design each to generate her entire body in an emergency. With this technology, she would be able to enter buildings and keep an eye on Wolf. She would fashion the engines with the IFLEX technology. It was silent and efficient, and with the cobalt 60 power source, she could generate enough power to become tangible; plus, she could build in a few other surprises to help if needed. She knew this solution would work well, and with a glimmer of satisfaction, she thought, Here I come, Wolf. See you soon!

  * * *

  Wolf and his companions had been traveling for three days. As the noon sun passed overhead, the lush deciduous forest yielded to a stand of towering pines and other conifers, and the terrain became rocky and mountainous. Unexpectedly, the tree line receded, and the men emerged into a vast plain of well-tended grass that stretched before them. Squadrons comprised of several hundred soldiers drilled on the lawns as Onel and his men headed towards a pair of huge gates set in the face of towering outer cliffs. The gates were protected by a rusted, iron portcullis, and they were massive—thirty feet high, boasting huge oak panels covered with studded iron to protect the entrance to Waylan’s castle. This was the castle’s first defense. A massive stone tablet inscribed with symbols that reminded Wolf of hieroglyphics stood in front of the gate.

  “What does that say?” Wolf asked.

 
Onel approached the stone stela and spoke as he touched the words: “Springdale Castle. Founded by King Waylan. All who enter are protected. Those who seek sanctuary from the king shall receive it. Do not betray his trust.” Onel continued reading the stela, reporting the number of workmen and other mundane details. Overhead, her ship invisible, Syn made note of Onel’s words and the symbols on the stela, running a comparison with all known written languages. Onel led the way through the manmade opening and told Wolf they soon would arrive at the secondary gates to Springdale Castle. They walked forward through a six-foot opening, and then turned sharply to the left, walking eight feet, and angled sharply to the right again. They traveled another forty feet through an arched passageway wide enough to allow two wagons to enter side-by-side, and then the corridor opened into a scenic, forested valley.

  “These sharp turns make it difficult for invaders to mount an attack with any force,” Onel explained. “They are a death trap for anyone who attacks. Look up there, at the side of the mountain.” Onel pointed to a series of ledges cut into the high mountain walls, each lined with eight to ten men armed with spears. “Those men live up there with their families year round. The wall is honeycombed into living quarters with natural springs in the rock providing water. Rich loam fills large, garden terraces that feed them. Those soldiers are self-sufficient from the castle, in case we are attacked or held under siege. This is the first death trap an advancing army would have to overcome.”

  As the men progressed through the forested valley, they came to a pristine, level pasture that led up to another huge mountain with a second mammoth gate hewn from sheer rock that spanned the meadow. The gate was fifty feet tall, carved from mountain granite and framed between two massive towers. Soldiers wearing ornate armor patrolled the towers every few feet along the upper terraces. Below, the massive gates were forged of ten-inch thick iron, engraved with an intricate pattern of flowers and vines on the outside. Just inside the gate stood another iron portcullis with four-inch thick bars and raised barbs that glistened in the bright sunlight. As Wolf went through the gate, his large stature drew comments and startled oaths from those nearby. Onel greeted the gate guards who eyed Wolf with apprehension, and a curt nod from Captain Lintal dispersed them.

  Wolf gazed in awe at the castle, built on top of a mountain that had been scraped flat. The structure was a spectacular carving in the shape of a warrior holding a spear, hewn from red granite that reflected sunlight beautifully. Its detail was remarkable. The only comparison that came to Wolf’s mind was the Colossus of Rhodes from the distant past. It looked so real he expected to see it move. The spear extended fifty feet over the warrior’s gold-crowned head, and Onel said this was the king’s personal keep. Wolf knew that no artisan of this primitive world could have designed this incredible structure, and it was beyond the capabilities of architects from Wolf’s time.

  “How long did it take to build this castle?” Wolf asked, marveling at the fortifications.

  “It took several hundred talented artists and their men fifteen years to complete the castle,” Onel answered, smiling with pride. “They worked night and day in shifts. The men worked of their own will because King Waylan paid them fair wages from his vast treasure. He was fortunate because he struck a rich gold mine within this mountain. It seems it is bottomless as he still pays his soldiers, artisans, and other workers. The king is truly an unselfish man.”

  “It seems he is a rare man,” Wolf observed. “I am honored he has agreed to see me.”

  “You have a noble man’s bearing, and I am proud I will receive the prestige of presenting you to His Majesty,” Onel replied.

  A large moat filled with water and protected by spikes encircled the colossus, which stood nearly two hundred feet tall. Onel led Wolf and his men across a bridge that passed between the massive warrior's legs. They came to another wall, twenty feet high, surrounding the enormous structure. Wolf saw that the fortifications were formidable and made the structure impregnable. They approached a stairway that spiraled up to the warrior’s ankle and arrived at another massive iron portal. A guard recognized Onel and swung open the gate. Once inside, Onel dispersed his men, and then he and Wolf proceeded alone.

  After climbing several more stairways, they came to a bathing area. Steam hovered over the water’s surface, and several young boys in washing gowns stood around with strigils to scrape the skin of bathers and provide towels to dry them. Onel disrobed, stepping into the water, and he immersed himself up to his neck.

  “Wolf, my friend, wash the dust from your body and relax. His Majesty has been told of our arrival and expects us for dinner in a few hours.”

  Wolf unhooked his belt and placed it on the ground. He unzipped his jumpsuit and folded it next to the belt, leaving his underwear on. He noticed Onel giving him an appraising look, and the attendants giggled at the sight.

  “It’s a cultural thing,” Wolf said defensively. He stepped into the hot water, and it only went as high as his chest. He sat down, and the water level rose to his neck. As he soaked, he asked, “How does the water get heated?”

  Onel, who was relaxing with his eyes closed, replied, “The kitchens are beneath us. The hot air from the cooking ovens vent under this floor, heating the rocks. We add cold water to keep it bearable.”

  The men soaked a while longer, and then a young female entered. She approached them and kneeled by Onel, saying in a pleasant, almost sultry voice, “Father, you have returned.”

  Wolf, who had dozed off, stood up quickly and then submerged just as fast.

  “Jhondra, why are you in here, child?” Onel asked with a chuckle.

  The girl was small, not quite five foot tall, with honey blonde hair in a thick braid that extended down her back to her waist. She had thin lips, gray eyes, and was milkmaid white. Like most of the women Wolf had seen in this castle, she was dressed in flowing clothes that hid her body. The girl was very thin and hadn’t blossomed yet.

  “Father, I missed you. His Majesty is getting hungry, and I took it upon myself to inform you of our king’s mind.”

  “Child, this is the men’s quarters,” Onel lectured with a faint smile. “You must remember that you are a young woman and can’t run in here anytime you like.” Turning to Wolf, he added, “Forgive my child. She is my youngest at sixteen summers—a consummate tomboy who doesn’t realize how attractive she has become.”

  Deciding it was time to get dressed, Wolf stood, remaining waist-deep in the water, and retrieved his garments. His movements drew the girl’s attention, and her eyes widened as she noticed his size. She managed a whispered, “Hello, stranger!” She had ignored Wolf when she entered, being intent on talking to her father. Now, she assessed his broad back, long hair, and massive chest. Swallowing hard, she asked, “Is he the one they speak of, Father?”

  “Jhondra, remove yourself, my child. We will talk later,” Onel replied with a sigh.

  “Yes, Father. I will see you at dinner.” The girl flashed Wolf a perky smile and added, “You too, large one.”

  Speaking to no one in particular, Wolf mumbled under his breath, “What is it with women lately?”

  “I heard that, Commander,” Syn hissed in his ear bud, sounding like a jealous female.

  Chapter 15

  Onel escorted Wolf down an exquisite hallway of red granite still being decorated by artisans. They stopped for a few moments to watch a talented stonecutter as he chiseled a design in one wall. The man was scraping and tapping a large area into a mural of the hunt, and he had chiseled out a boar-like creature being pursued by dogs. A large tree graced the background, and several men were in pursuit through a half-carved forest.

  “This is beautiful,” Wolf said in amazement. “How long has he been carving here?”

  “Huran is the king’s master stonecutter. His grandfather carved the castle. He has been working on this scene for less than a month and should finish it in another two weeks. He is truly gifted,” Onel said.

  Wolf nodded in
agreement, and they continued down the hallway to another massive iron door. Guards in armor stood on each side of the panel. They acknowledged Onel, and one did a quick march step, planted his heel, pivoted, took another quick step, and advanced to the door, opening it for the two men. Onel led Wolf into the chamber. As the door closed behind them, Wolf gazed into the throne room of King Waylan. It was vaulted, with massive arches supported by columns carved into the form of snakes whose jaws clamped on the beams above. Wolf counted twenty dark gray marble columns on each side, spaced about ten feet apart. Guards armed with spears lined the alcoves, standing erect and proud. These men looked older than the guards outside, and Wolf recalled Haakon’s words: “The king is protected inside his castle by the Old Guard, men past their prime but who have vowed to serve the king until death.” Wolf felt respect for such men.

  The floor of the exquisite throne room was black marble with white flecks, a stunning contrast from the three different types of rock used to construct this room. Across the room, Wolf saw a man seated on what appeared to be a solid gold throne. Like the thrones of old, it had a high, ornate back with gigantic armrests—but it was the man seated on the throne that caught Wolf’s eye.

  King Waylan was the biggest man Wolf had seen on the planet. Even sitting down, his large frame impressed Wolf. He had blue eyes, alert and darting, and a snowy white beard that covered an iron chin. The beard hung from his face like a glacier forcing its way down a mountain valley. Wolf noticed a scar on the man’s face that started by his right eye and pulled the skin down, giving him a squinting gaze. His mouth was full, and he had deep smile lines. He held a massive sword by the crosspiece between his legs in huge hands with deep scars.

  Onel walked to the king’s dais and knelt. “My King, I present Wolf, a bold warrior who defeated Jonar’s ruffians and made the Templar Sylvaine retreat in fear. Wolf, I present you King Waylan of Springdale.”