The Humanarium 3: Revolution

by C. W Tickner

  The Humanarium: Revolution by C.W Tickner.

  Published by Humanarium press Ltd

  © 2018 C.W Tickner

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by copyright law. For permissions contact:

  CWTickner@gmail.com

  Cover by Dane at Ebook launch.

  Edited by Andrew Turpin.

  This is book Three in the Humanarium series.

  Thank you for opening this copy of The Humanarium: Revolution. Just to let you know, reviews are the life blood of an author and the chance of sequels stem from honest reviews.

  Now sit back and enjoy reading.

  The Humanarium. Revolution.

  Chapter 1

  I don’t how I did it but I’m on board. I admit I’m not a scientist or an engineer but the plan worked and the official number on the ship is now 10,001. This storage crates a bit tight though.

  Harl refused to breathe too much of the foul air as he stared along the dank Aylen sewer. His finger toyed with the rifle’s trigger but his patience was running thin. He had been crouched behind a small heap of rubble for over an hour, staring down the tunnel at a cross roads a hundred metres away.

  Four large tunnels connected at the crossroads and the square space was lit from above by the midday sun. Dust motes flitted in the beams of sunshine, like a break in a cloud but the warm glow failed to penetrate the four huge pipelines or burn off the foul smell.

  The curving walls of the tunnel had been cast from a silvery metal but somehow the slime that pervaded the sewers under the island had managed to cling to its once gleaming surface. Thick stalactites hung from the apex like green bogeys from an Aylen’s nose.

  Harl squinted, trying to spot what Damen had brought him here to see but nothing moved.

  Something clattered far in the distance. The echoes carried past him along tunnel and he cringed. His fingers twitched around his pistol grip and he fought against the urge to draw it. None of the other men around him seemed too worried, so he forced his hand away from the gun and braced it against a pile of rubble that was heaped to one side of the tunnel.

  ‘Why are we here?’ Harl asked for the tenth time since Damen had dragged him down into the gloomy tunnels. The warren of tubing had long been abandoned and was now home to a host of night-loving creatures that Damen had taken to hunting when the Compassionates let him.

  Damen put a finger to his mouth, barely visible under the thick black beard that twizzled down to a braided point. He extended it from his lips out over the rubble top and pointed straight at the crossroads ahead.

  A faint scratching noise was followed by the silhouette of a scrabbler slinking into the light on four stubby legs. It was as close to a giant rat as Harl could imagine. A wet snout overhung sharp teeth designed for ripping flesh and a body covered in thick matted fur ended in a long hairless tail that dragged along the ooze coated floor.

  Harl heard the shifting of the men behind him as they readied their weapons in anticipation of violence. It was not the rat itself that had them on edge but the shadowy rider perched atop its back. The figure was hunched over a saddle designed to fit the beady eyed monster.

  The scrabbler sniffed at the ground as the figure on top waited patiently for four more riders to bring their beasts into view from one of the side tunnels. They fell in behind him like a procession.

  In comparison to the rear riders the man leading them was huge, bigger than Damen and even at this distance, Harl knew he didn’t want to face him in combat.

  His sword fighting lessons from Damen had been productive, building on the skills he had gained from so many fights but it had taught him the advantages of size and he wasn’t confident in facing anyone that could potentially crush his skull with one hand. He tightened his grip on the rifle, finding comfort in its range.

  Harl tensed as the lead figure glanced to either side, staring straight at them before looking down the opposite tunnel again. Had he heard them? He knew he couldn’t see into the darkness around the squad and Harl guessed he was searching for something or someone.

  Damen sucked in a deep breath ready to shout an order and charge but Harl shushed him to silence. The hunter scowled at him and only Harl’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from rising.

  ‘Let’s see what he does,’ Harl said. ‘Find out why he’s waiting?’

  Harl felt Damen’s shoulder muscles bunch up and he turned back to the crossroads to see a cloaked figure stroll into the scene from the left side of the crossroads.

  The mounted giant started to talk in low tones but Harl was too far away to hear anything other than a faint echo. Harl wondered where had these humans come from. He’d not seen anyone riding scrabblers on the island before.

  The two figures talked for a moment before the one on foot slipped something out from under their cloak and passed it up to the rider. The rider glanced down at it and handed a small object down in exchange.

  A muffled choke came from behind. Harl whipped his head around just as one of the soldiers slapped a hand to his mouth to stifle a sneeze.

  ‘Don’t you dare, Garve’ Damen growled.

  Garve’s hand slipped and the sound burst out to echo down the pipe way.

  ‘Idiot,’ Damen cursed, clipping Garve around the head and rising from his crouch.

  The cloaked figure turned tail and limped off as the rider rounded his mount to face the source of the noise. The beady eyes of the scrabbler flickered red in the light from above as the leader ordered two of his men to charge.

  ‘Trips,’ Damen said. ‘Line front.’

  Two men stepped past Harl as the riders ahead kicked their beasts into a run. The soldiers unpacked a roll of sheeting from a bag and unrolled it across the floor in front of the squad. Pin points of metal covered its surface and shone in the dim light.

  ‘Hold,’ Damen said. ‘Keep your weapons low. We don’t want to scare them off.’

  The slapping noise of the padded feet grew louder as the two riders edged to one side of the tunnel to avoid a heap of rubble.

  ‘Retreat!’ Damen yelled and the men turned to run away.

  Harl was confused but something about Damen’s sudden willingness to turn tail made him think twice.

  The giant rats bounded forward as their riders called “Yah!” to urge the beasts on.

  Damen skidded to a stop as the scrabblers screamed in pain.

  As one, the squad turned, raising rifles and firing at the giant rats as they squirmed. They bucked and threw their riders as agony stabbed them from the roll of spikes on the ground.

  The two beasts and their riders were down in seconds.

  Harl followed Damen as he leapt over the spiked mat. The rifle fire from behind ceased for a moment as the soldiers jumped over and opened fire again. The blue blasts forced Damen and Harl to one side of the tunnel as a second pair of rats raced towards them.

  The rifle fire was ineffective as the dense fur absorbed the blazing bolts of energy.

  ‘Out!’ one man called from behind. The words were echoed again and again by different soldiers as their rifles ran down to empty.

  ‘No one thought to bring more?’ Damen growled as his own begun to click furiously, signalling an empty magazine. Harl was too late to conserve his own as it clicked on empty.

  ‘Give em steel,’ Damen said, unsheathing his short sword.

  Harl drew his own sword as the men tugged stubby spears from the packs on their backs.

  ‘Let them come between us,’ Damen said. ‘Then get to the side as they pass.’

  The beady eyed beasts bounced as they ran and at nearly two metres tall, they seemed unstoppable. Fo
am coated their overhanging teeth, and strands of saliva whipped out as they stampeded towards the group.

  ‘Not yet,’ Damen said as the rats thundered closer.

  Harl could feel the vibrations from their feet through his boots and see the foam around their mouths. The riders leant to one side and slipped long lances from beneath the fur of their mounts, lowering the tips. They were so close Harl could see the rust that coated the points and a foul black substance smeared along the edge.

  Harl was sure his feet would betray him but when Damen shouted, “now!” they didn’t let him down. He sprang aside, hearing the whoosh of the tip as it skimmed past his head, just before he slammed into the curved wall. One man was too slow and a spear skewered him, hoisting him up before the wound tore and he dropped to the ground, moaning in pain. The man’s cries were drowned out by the shrieks from the scrabblers as their tender feet were punctured by the razor spikes in the mat behind. Their riders tried to hold on but the bucking was too much and they were ejected unceremoniously to the floor.

  The squad twisted around and launched themselves into the thrown riders, dodging aside as their mounts writhed around them.

  Harl swung his blade hard into the nearest mass of black fur feeling the blade slow as it entered the dense hair until it struck tender flesh beneath. A foot lashed out, catching him in the chest before he could jump back.

  One of the riders threw himself at Harl, but before he could raise his sword, someone shoulder barged his attacker on to the mat of spikes. They tried to roll away but spears flicked out and finished him.

  Men circled the creatures and stabbed at them until they slowed in a growing puddle of yellow blood.

  Damen roared and plunged his sword down into the last surviving man and then looked up. His face above the beard-line was smeared scarlet and he had a look of concentrated fury in his eyes.

  He stared down for a moment at several of his men, including Garve, who lay dead on the ground. The death of his men was testament to the sheer ferocity of the creatures.

  ‘Let’s get those two,’ Harl said, glancing at the square crossroads. The leader was yanking the reigns to turn his mount and flee.

  Damen nodded. ‘Maybe he’ll be more of a challenge.’ He started to sprint in anticipation of a better fight.

  Harl was more concerned with the other figure as he ran behind Damen. Who were they to be meeting in the shadows of the sewers underneath the city and what were they exchanging?

  When they reached the crossroads, Harl glanced left but didn’t see the one on foot. When they turned right to follow the rider they came face to face with a group of ragged looking men, covered in dented armour and forming a line just inside the tunnel. In front of the line was the rear end of a scrabbler.

  The mounted leader roared something at them and the line split, letting him ride between them before the enemy merged together again. Beyond the ragged line the leader raced down the tunnel which stretched two hundred paces until it opened out to daylight.

  The ten men in front readied themselves as Harl and five more continued their mad rush, following Damen. They were out numbered but neither Damen or the others showed any sign of doubt. Harl caught the eye of one man in the line ahead and held his sword in front of him.

  He was similar to Harl in stature and smiled, clearly taking note of the weapon’s position. The smile turned to a snarl and he tightened his grip on a pair of evil looking daggers.

  Harl slowed as he reached him and kicked out, knocking the man back a pace before twisting the blade to an awkward angle that would take the man by surprise. The enemy were excellent fighters and only Damen’s constant training was keeping them alive. Harl could see the moves Damen had taught them being put into effect and had to smile. Only months before these men had barely held a sword and now they were confident soldiers.

  The man saw the move coming as though it was expected and crossed his daggers, absorbing the blow before it could hack into his neck.

  A sharp stabbing pain dug into Harl’s knee. It buckled as the man returned a kick of his own. Harl dropped to one knee, just managing to keep his sword up as a wild dagger skimmed down the longer blade, grinding to a halt at the guard. Harl tired desperately to stand, trying to spot the second dagger before it plunged into him. Twisting just in time to avoid a short stab, he stood and thrust his sword point at the man’s plated chest. Without enough force behind it the point skipped to one side, scoring a line across the armour.

  Harl swept the longer blade side to side, holding the man back and using the distance to give himself time to find an opening. When the man pivoted around the tip, Harl dropped to one knee again and swept the blade at the spinning figure. The daggers passed overhead and his own blade cut deep into the man’s thighs. The man collapsed and Harl finished him off with a hard stab, breaking through the flimsy armour.

  Damen was battling two men simultaneously and managed to fell one whilst the other pirouetted around, waving a pair of grimy hatchets.

  Damen’s men were struggling to gain the upper hand. The enemy were excellent fighters and like Harl, all that was keeping Damen’s men alive was the constant training.

  One of Damen’s men fell and the winner turned a short crooked sword on Harl, snarling as he stepped over the body. The man dropped below Harl’s first strike and hooked a leg behind him. His weight shifted and Harl toppled backwards to the blood slick floor.

  Harl stared up at the point of a rusted sword as the man loomed over him. The blade plunged down as a dark shape barrelled into the man knocking him away in a swish of a black cloth.

  A moment later Dana’s blue eyes were staring down at him. A man groaned beside Harl and she thrust the end of her razor sharp staff down at the man’s head, silencing him. She tossed the staff up lightly, adjusting her grip and threw it like a javelin at the nearest enemy, wresting with Damen.

  Harl scrambled up as she spun into a low predatory stance and tugged a pair of daggers from a ring of sheaths around her thigh. She leapt onto the last man and plunged the daggers deep between the folds of his thin armour.

  Three of Damen’s men had survived, the rest were lying in a tangle of limbs on the floor. The enemy had been more than a match for them and were faster than any human Harl had fought before.

  ‘Have you got your flyer?’ Damen asked Dana, looking past her to where the lone rider was disappearing out the end of the tunnel.

  She shook her head.

  ‘First time in history,’ Damen said and started to run after the figure.

  ‘You won’t catch him now,’ Harl said, sucking in deep breaths, unable to force his legs into a run. He bent double with his hand on his knees. ‘Thank you,’ he said to Dana as she wiped her daggers clean on the rags the dead men wore under their armour.

  Damen slowed to a stop and turned. ‘Haven’t had anything decent to hunt in weeks,’ he said, spitting on the grimy steel floor. ‘And now these lot and a spy turn up on the same day.’

  ‘You know the rules,’ Harl said.

  ‘Unfortunately I do,’ Damen said. ‘What I wouldn’t give to hunt something under the sun instead of having to come down here for pathetic rodents. Bloody Compassionate laws.’

  ‘Got better than rodents this time though,’ Harl said using his foot to turn over a corpse. What had motivated the man? Dana and the others began to strip the men, searching for anything useful. ‘How did you know to find them down here?’

  Damen sheathed his sword. ‘Sky said she’d spotted an Aylen wading away from the island through the water near one of the exit pipes in the wall. I guessed they’d dropped something off. Either a bomb or scouting party.’

  ‘You’d have brought me down here for a bomb?’ Harl asked the hunter, glancing down the tunnels hoping not to spot something with a large clock on the side.’

  Damen shrugged. ‘Dana, did you see anyone down the other tunnel?’

  She looked up from a corpse and shook her head. ‘I was up high,’ she pointed to the ver
tical pipe that hung over the crossroads and was open to the blue sky.

  She picked up her staff and turned down the tunnel where the one on foot had run. ‘I will look,’ she said and broke into a jog.

  ‘Be long gone by now,’ Harl said as the jog turned to a sprint.

  ‘So,’ Damen said, scratching the scar under his thick black beard. ‘Someone has been talking to the enemy.’

  ‘How do you know they’re from the energy company?’ Harl said.

  Damen knelt and ripped off the thin armour on the chest of a corpse revealing the symbols for Harvest and the number Ten in Aylen script branded into the grubby flesh.

  Harl grimaced at the malnourished body. The veins were like lightening forks under the pallid flesh.

  ‘Did they want to set up an entrance to attack us from below?’

  Damen shook his head. ‘Doubt it,’ he said. ‘If they’re going to attack, it’ll be with Aylen, not humans.’

  Harl didn’t like the idea of anyone on the island cavorting with the energy company. He wished it could stay peaceful as it had for the last year. He knew the threat was always there but with the enemy now making moves it made it impossible to continue their current way of life. They couldn’t ignore the calm before the storm.

  Chapter 2

  I have enough food and water for a week. I know, I might have lasted on Earth until the event but for what? A pollution choking few weeks and then mass panic? I think not.

  Harl strolled back through the tunnels with Damen to the nearest exit.

  ‘How is Yara managing?’ Harl asked.

  ‘More trouble when she’s twice as big,’ Damen said. ‘She’s constantly making ridiculous demands for food. The other day she wanted me to get her fresh venison.’

  ‘And?’ Harl asked.

  ‘If I so much as aim a bow at a deer on this island,’ he said, ‘I’d be exiled quicker than Yara would slit my throat for not bringing one back. They’re watching me more than most.’