by James Palmer
“These strangers saved my life and that of my son,” said Marna proudly. “Valaron and his Skeleton Corps torment us, but these brave people stood up to them. They deserve our thanks.”
The room erupted in cheers.
Princess Aria stood, her cape, now a peaceful green along with her dress, billowing out behind her. “We mean you good people no harm,” she said. “But this Lord Valaron of yours is a tyrant. We have seen his kind before, in the First Men. And all over Mars people are crying out for freedom.”
Blackthorn rose and placed his right hand on Aria’s shoulder, silencing her. “We will not be starting the revolution, today, Your Highness.”
She turned to look at him, her face grim, but Blackthorn was smiling.
“We want to help you,” said Blackthorn. “This Valaron appears to be quite powerful, his army many, his gifts great. But I have seen nothing he has wrought here that you could not learn to do on your own.”
An excited murmur rose from the small group assembled around them.
“You would ask cattle of Lord Valaron to become gods?” asked the old man. He had stepped into the building now, and was pointing a long bony finger at Blackthorn.
“I would ask Valaron’s cattle to become men,” countered the barbarian. “And I swear by the moons of Mars that your master shall pay with his life for what he has done to you.”
More cheers from the assemblage now. The old man simply lowered his head to the floor and shook it slowly. “And what do you ask of us in return?”
Blackthorn shrugged. “Nothing. Except to run your own village and your own lives, and stand up for yourselves. One day a revolution will come to Mars, and you must all be ready.”
“Who is that man?” asked Princess Aria, her voice low.
“That is Dar,” whispered Marna. “The oldest person in our community. He knows the horrors of Lord Valaron’s reign better than anyone. The Master killed his three sons and took his wife to serve him in his Keep. She died there.”
The old man stood before them, his bony frame quivering slightly, but he said nothing more. A moment later the cheering died as they heard the galloping of horses approaching.
“It’s them!” cried Marna. “The Skeleton Corps!”
“Stay here,” said Blackthorn. “We’ll see to this.” The tall barbarian motioned for his two companions to follow him outside.
Six heavily armored men were approaching on horseback, their strange rods brandished high.
Blackthorn pulled his Sword of Light from his belt and ignited it, a column of pure energy extending from its tip. Oglok beat his chest and growled a warning to their attackers. Princess Aria touched the diadems on her necklace and stretched out her hand.
The lead horseman held up his hand and the men stopped. “Are you the strangers that disrupted Lord Valaron’s men while they conducted their duties?”
“We are,” said Blackthorn.
“Then it has been decreed that you and everyone here must die,” replied their leader. “Burn the village!”
At his command the men fell out of their tight formation and sent their horses galloping through the streets of the village. To his horror, Blackthorn saw that some of the horsemen carried a weapon he not only recognized, but had thought long vanished. These Skeleton Corps held out long black pipes that spat flames onto the wooden buildings, setting them ablaze.
“Flamethrowers!” he shouted. His memories of his past were gradually fading, but this weapon he remembered all too well.
“We really should have some kind of plan,” said the Princess.
“I’m open to suggestions, Your Highness,” said Blackthorn. “For now, let’s take out their leader and see what fearsome fighters they are without him.”
Smiling, Princess Aria touched a sequence of jewels in her necklace. A second later, a bolt of energy erupted from her outstretched hand with concussive force. The purple beam struck the leader of the Skeleton Corps square in the chest and sent him flying backward off his mount with stunning speed. He landed twenty feet away with a heavy thud. He did not get up.
Blackthorn arched an eyebrow at the Princess, who simply grinned and shrugged.
This sent the remaining attackers into a frenzy. They had no doubt heard of the trouble caused by these powerful strangers, and they would leave nothing concerning them to chance.
They rushed Blackthorn and his companions with their horses, forcing them to scatter or risk getting trampled. The barbarian touched one of the men with his sword as he passed dangerously close, and the man screamed and fell from his mount, unmoving.
“Oglok!” Blackthorn shouted. “Help me dismount these thugs. “Aria! Can you put out those flames?”
The Princess nodded and touched another sequence of jewels across her neck and pointed at the flaming buildings. Purple spheres enveloped the burning structures and the flames sputtered and died.
Oglok was already hard at work relieving two of the Skeleton Corps of the burden of their horses, grabbing their prods and lifting them into the air as he had done earlier. Another horseman circled around behind the Mock-Man and thrust his staff between Oglok’s shoulder blades. Oglok convulsed in pain, dropping his opponents to the ground.
“Those are cattle prods!” said Blackthorn, amazed. Considering the strange and powerful machines and weaponry he had seen since awakening on this post-apocalyptic Mars, he had expected something a bit more exotic. Spinning on his heels, the barbarian caught the horseman who bounded down upon him on his right side, knocking him from his mount, his armor smoldering.
Blackthorn touched the yellow square and his light blade vanished. He aimed the metal cylinder at Oglok’s assailant and activated the energy beam setting, sending a bolt of yellow flame into the attacker’s chest. Oglok growled his thanks and went back to pummeling the other two Skeleton Corps senseless.
The Skeleton Corps’ numbers were great, but they were not prepared for Blackthorn and his companions. At least, that’s what Blackthorn thought when the armored horsemen had first appeared to ransack the village.
Two more horsemen rode up behind Oglok, hefting a thick net between them. Before Blackthorn could shout, they tossed the heavy net over the Mock-Man and began poking him with their electrified prods. Oglok yelped in pain while futilely trying to throw off the netting.
Blackthorn prepared to send out another energy pulse with his light sword, but an unseen force snatched it from his outstretched hand.
“I have seen enough!” said a booming voice. The sound came from a glowing golden orb that was slowly dissipating into nothingness. A man stood where the orb had been, tall with dark features. He wore a blue suit similar in style to Blackthorn’s, and a great red cloak swirled about him. On his left hand he wore a leather and metal gauntlet with hundreds of tiny metal studs arrayed upon it. In his right hand he held Blackthorn’s Sword of Light.
The dark man touched one of the studs and a powerful blast of energy erupted from his gauntleted fist, striking the princess and knocking her to the ground. The Skeleton Corps were upon her then, snatching her up and giving her a few shocks with their terrible prods. “Bring me her necklace,” the dark figure commanded.
Before Blackthorn could protest, many powerful arms grabbed him. Something heavy struck the back of his head and he saw stars dance before his eyes. The next thing Blackthorn knew, he was on his knees and struggling with his captors. He looked up at the cloaked man, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Lord Valaron, I presume.”
The man walked toward the barbarian, regarding the sword of light coolly.
An interesting toy,” he remarked casually. “How did it end up in the hands of a pathetic barbarian such as yourself?”
“You call me pathetic while attacking defenseless women and children?”
Lord Valaron ignored Blackthorn’s retort. “I asked you a question, Stranger. Where did you get this?”
Princess Aria was thrown to the ground beside Blackthorn, her jeweled necklace ripped from her throat
by one of Valaron’s cursed Skeleton Corps. From him it floated through the air into Valaron’s other hand.
“Another powerful trinket,” said the evil sorcerer. “Fascinating. And is the hairy brute similarly armed?”
“No, your Lordship,” said one of the horsemen.
“What a shame. I suppose these items must suffice for my collection. Tell me: How do they work?”
“Give them back and we’ll show you,” said the Princess.
Lord Valaron reared his head back and laughed.
“Such gumption! And from a woman no less! Are you the leader of this merry band?”
“Leave her alone, you petty tyrant!” Blackthorn looked up at his captor, gritting his teeth.
Valaron gave the barbarian a thin smile. “Your presence here will no longer be tolerated. Bring them to my Keep! We’ll see if some time in my prison levels will still your insolent tongues.”
Valaron addressed the villagers. “Let this be a lesson to you. Harboring strangers who attack me or my men will not be tolerated. Next time I will not be so lenient.”
Blackthorn and the Princess were snatched off the ground, their hands and feet bound tightly. Oglok was still a prisoner of the thick, heavy netting that had been thrown over him like a shroud. The three of them were unceremoniously thrown onto the backs of horses as Valaron touched another stud on his gauntlet and vanished in a bright yellow orb of light.
*
John Blackthorn did not remember losing consciousness, but he awoke in a dimly lit, grey chamber. The walls and floor were metal, and there were strange machines all around him though, unlike the lair of the Black Sorcerer, where he had first come to awareness in this strange time and place, these machines looked almost brand new. He could feel the steady vibration of machinery around and below him, and the smell of ozone wafted through the slight breeze that blew through the place.
His hands were lashed above his head by hard, metal restraints that came down from the high ceiling above. His feet were similarly fettered. The bands around his ankles were raised off the metal floor a few inches by sturdy looking metal rods.
“Interesting place,” said a voice to Blackthorn’s right. “Though I can’t say much for our host’s hospitality.”
Blackthorn turned his head. “Princess! You’re all right.”
Princess Aria was shackled the same way as Blackthorn, her necklace gone. “It
would appear so,” she said. “At least for now.”
“Where’s Oglok?”
Aria looked about the room in which they were imprisoned. “I heard one of
Valaron’s Skeleton Corpsmen say our furry friend was to be used for fighting practice.”
“We must get to him soon,” said Blackthorn. “That is, if we can get ourselves free of these bonds.”
Blackthorn tugged uselessly at his shackles while his keen eyes scanned the large room, looking for something--anything-that might help them escape. At the far end of the vast room he spotted his sword, along with Aria’s necklace. They were each sitting on two disc-shaped platforms mounted atop short, hinged arms that jutted out of a control panel. Blackthorn could barely make out tiny electric sparks flashing around the jewels on Aria’s necklace.
The Princess followed Blackthorn’s gaze. “It appears our Lord Valaron is trying to plumb our weaponry’s secrets.”
“Either that or drain them of their power.”
“That may be possible with your Sword of Light, but not with my necklace,” countered the Princess confidently. “But if he decodes the spells stored inside the gems, he’ll be even more of a nuisance than he is already.”
“Let’s not give him that chance, then,” said Blackthorn. “There must be a way out of these blasted bonds!” He put one last bit of effort into freeing himself, and succeeded only in swaying back and forth between the shackles that bound his hands and feet.
“Perhaps we should wait until our host returns,” offered the princess. “He obviously has plans for us. We should formulate a plan for when he releases us from these shackles.”
“And what if his plans involve using us for target practice where we stand?” said Blackthorn. “If we wait until he comes back we’ll have lost any element of surprise. The time is now or never, Princess.”
“If that’s the case, then I’m out of ideas,” she added tersely.
“Just give me a minute. Princess, can you use your magic without your necklace?”
“No. My magic is stored in the diadems in the necklace. I still have my knife safe in its neck sheath, but I can’t reach it with my arms fettered.”
The barbarian heaved a heavy sigh. Their situation seemed dire, and yet he couldn’t accept the fact that there was no way out. Ever since awakening on this strange, time-blighted Mars he had faced countless foes and encountered bizarre situations. But he had always found a way out. With his friends and his Sword of Light by his side, General John Blackthorn felt that he could conquer any foe.
He strained against his bonds again, throwing everything his new body had into one final effort. Then, without warning, their shackles mysteriously opened, sending Blackthorn and Princess Aria sprawling to the floor.
“Ouch!” cried the Princess. “You could have warned me first.”
Blackthorn blinked. “I don’t think that was me. Look.”
The barbarian pointed across the room. Standing near a darkened doorway was an old woman clothed in rags similar to those worn by the villagers. Her long white hair spilled passed her shoulders, and she had a time-hardened look about her. Slowly she ambled toward them as quickly as her creaking joints would allow.
“You must hurry,” she said. “If the Master finds out what I’ve done he’ll surely torture me.”
“Who are you?” asked Blackthorn.
“I am called Lorna.”
“Why did you set us free?”
“Because I heard the men talking about your attack on them earlier today, and saw the look in the Master’s eyes when he learned of your presence in the village. They are afraid of you.” Her toothless mouth stretched into a weak smile.
“If your master asks,” said Princess Aria, returning the old woman’s smile, “We’ll tell him it was our magic that set us free.”
“Speaking of which,” said Blackthorn as he stood and strode to the raised platforms holding his sword and Aria’s necklace.
“Careful, Blackthorn,” said the princess. “They could be booby trapped.”
“Let me,” said the old woman. She stepped to a control panel and flipped a switch, and Blackthorn’s Sword of Light and Princess Aria’s necklace dropped into the barbarian’s waiting hands. He tapped the sword setting and the energy blade flared to blazing life. Princess Aria took her necklace and put it once more around her slender neck. She touched a sequence of gems and extended her right hand, her index and little fingers extended. After a moment the shackles that once restrained them exploded in a shower of sparks.
“Seems to be in working order,” she said. “Let’s find Oglok and teach Valaron a lesson he’ll not soon forget.”
“The Mock-Man is being held outside,” said the crone. “In Lord Valaron’s proving grounds. The Master’s skeleton men are having much fun with him I fear.”
“Show us the way,” said Blackthorn.
Lorna began walking back the way she had come, followed closely by Blackthorn and the Princess. “I will lead you to the proving grounds, and your friend. I can do no more than that.”
“We understand,” said Blackthorn.
“Thank you for helping us,” said the Princess. “How can we repay your kindness?”
“Just free my people from the Master’s yoke,” she replied.
“With pleasure,” said Blackthorn. “Let’s go, Princess.”
Blackthorn and Princess Aria followed the old crone through the darkened doorway. They emerged in a dim corridor with a low ceiling, lit only by some sort of bioluminescent or phosphorescent blocks set into the walls at irregular i
ntervals. Expecting danger around every twist and turn, Blackthorn kept his light sword ignited and ready. They passed through a large area with piles of enormously thick wire coiled about in heaps. “Those are the great worms that built this place,” said the old woman. They have many teeth instead of eyes. But they have slumbered since the Keep was finished.”
They wandered through dimly lit corridors an interminable length of time, and for large portions of the journey Blackthorn felt the floor curve slightly downward, as if they were actually going underground, instead of up and out as the general would have imagined.
“How close are we?” He asked Lorna, his voice echoing loudly in the tunnel. “Not long now,” she said over her shoulder.
The glowing blocks, combined with the light from Blackthorn’s Sword of Light, gave them just enough illumination to navigate the metal maze, but the crone moved quickly through the dim recesses with practiced ease. After a time Blackthorn decided to shut off his energy blade so he would still have plenty of charge left when he actually needed it, which he hoped would be soon. Princess Aria said nothing as she followed Blackthorn and the old woman through the long, eternally winding tunnels.
“This is growing tiresome, Lorna,” said the Princess, annoyed. “How much farther?”
“This is definitely the end of the line for you,” said a voice up ahead.
The three stopped in their tracks. A flash of light was ebbing in the tunnel before them. Standing in its place was Lord Valaron.
“Fools! Do you think I don’t know everything that goes on within my Keep? I’ve been watching to see how far you’d get, and I’ve decided this is far enough.”
Blackthorn unsheathed his light sword and ignited it. “You’ll play no more games with us today,” he promised.
“Right you are, barbarian.” Valaron touched one of the studs on his gauntlet, and a great rumbling could be heard from the direction they had come.
“Enjoy these tunnels. For they shall be your tomb!” With that, Valaron disappeared in a flash of light.
