A Trial of Endurance

1: The Calm Before the Storm

Flomu Narikara had seen little action since he had enlisted for service in the Empire's carrier Vermana. So, when he heard the rumor that the great ship was to be used in a raid on a Seeker outpost in the Yelico Valley, he was pleasantly surprised, even though he’d be inside the Vermana the entire time, keeping it ticking. The Vermana was to be escorted in its raid by other airships, though they were old style, and were more canon fodder than anything else. While they had the float engines tethered above, the Vermana and the ships it carried had their hulls built around the float engines, giving them great mobility. What was more, Dragonmares were to be used. The great beasts were the Empire's version of the dragons created in the Ancient Age long ago. Those who rode them were given great honor, and were known for their ruthlessness in missions. Their captain, Evren, was a no-nonsense woman, willing to complete a mission no matter what it took. Flomu had once wondered if she had a heart. If the Dragonmares were to be used, the battle would be fierce.

Which led Flomu to another question; why go through all this trouble for a simple Seeker encampment? It was certain that the Seekers were a rogue group against the Empire. They wished to steal the Ancient’s artifacts, use them for their own means, and maybe even destroy the Empire itself. They did deserve to be annihilated. However, why was the Vermana needed? Seeker encampments were utterly destroyed at the hands of foot soldiers that had more advanced weaponry. Sometimes the Seekers would surprise them with an occasional weapon from the Ancient Age, or even a hover unit stolen from the Empire. However, in that case, simple air units, or even tanks, were used to mow down the rebels. All of this, the Dragonmares, the Vermana, and the immense battle group within, were highly unnecessary. Flomu had heard that the Seekers had established a fortified outpost, but it would have been overkill a few hundred units ago.

“Ah, Flomu, are you ready for today?”
Flomu’s thoughts were interrupted by his good friend Michima Tudanki. Unlike Flomu, Michima was a pilot, one of the great protectors of the Empire. Flomu leaned against the ship he had been working on.
“Yes.”
“I just ran into Evren in the Dragonmare chamber, unfortunately. That woman has no soul. It was probably devoured by the very beast she rides into battle. Her loyalty to the Empire is astounding, but she is hostile to everyone, and is a terrible demon in battles. She and her Dragonmare truly are a pair.”
“But have you ever seen those creatures outside of battle?”
“Yes, I have.”
“They hang by their tales from the rods, make a ball, and sleep soundlessly. It is surreal for such a violent creature to be so calm.”
“What is truly surreal is that we were able to create the beast in the first place. The Empire, a civilization paling in comparison to the Ancient Age, was able to create a bio-engineered creature.”
There was a pause. It was broken by Flomu, who asked the question that was annoying him.
“Michima, you’re part of the militant force. You must know the mission. Which is why I ask you; why is the Vermana being used? The Dragonmares, too. Why is so much force being used against one simple Seeker encampment?”
Michima sighed.
“I am not supposed to tell anyone the mission. But, seeing our relationship, I see no harm so long as you keep the information under wraps.” Michima looked around the hanger nervously. When he saw no one was there, or was listening in, he continued, “Our mission seems trivial to even me. In the Seeker encampment, beyond the barracks, the civilian housing, the schools, and the coolia stables, stands a large tower, piercing the heavens. Within that tower is a girl, chained and contained. We are to retrieve the girl.”
“A rescue mission?”
“No. I am afraid this is beyond either you or me. It is not a rescue mission. We are retrieving the girl, not saving her. I have heard that the Academy wishes to examine her, but that may just be talk. Still, it seems she is the only reason for the number of units we shall be using. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the Empire fears the girl.”
Flomu gained a puzzled look, “But…that doesn’t make any sense. Why would the Emperor fear the girl?”
Michima shrugged, “If I had to bet money on it, I’d say the same reason she was imprisoned in the tower.”
“Well, whatever it is, I’ll be sad I’ll miss the battle. I’ll be cooped up in here, performing maintenance on whatever gets damaged. Thing is, nothing WILL be damaged. What do the Seekers have, rocks and sticks?”
Michima thought for a moment, “The battle plan doesn’t seem too hard. Do you want to experience battle first hand?”
“What are you getting at?”
“You said it yourself. Maintenance will not be needed during the battle, and the fighting will not be fierce. You have never been able to fly, to fight, to protect the good of the Empire. Now, I am giving you that choice. Do you want to fly my Bhout?”
“I would like that, but what would you do?”
“I would take your place, press a few buttons, and turn a few knobs. It’ll be easy. And all you have to do is fly my Bhout through the battle, and shoot down turrets and soldiers. It won’t be difficult.”
“I don’t know…doing that is a capital offense. What if we get caught?”
“We won’t.”
“I’ll think about it. I want to do it; it’s just that I fear the outcome.”
Here, the intercom rang out, bearing the voice of the captain, “All pilots report to your Bhouts and Darahs. We shall be leaving in one hour.” There was shuffling, a fight for the microphone, “In Addition, Flomu Narikara PLEASE report to the Dragonmare chamber!” The last part chilled Flomu to the core. That was Captain Evren of the Dragonmare squad!
“I will return. Apparently, I have business to attend to.”
“Good luck. I’ll have to Bhout ready if you decide to use it.”

Flomu made his way through the hallways of the Vermana to the Dragonmare chamber. This carrier was designed to carry all five Dragonmares. The Empire could have had more at their disposal, but now they had no way of producing them. The Dragonmares were being produced in the Cradle, an Ancient Age establishment for the primary goal of creating bio-engineered creatures. Though the Empire knew much about the Ancient Age, they could not operate any structures. That was, until they found Abadd. Abadd was a Drone, a bio-engineered creature in a humanoid shape. Able to speak and follow orders, Abadd proved useful when the Imperial archeologists uncovered him in a ruin. With Abadd, they were able to operate the Cradle, producing five functional Dragonmares. However, he soon vanished; taking a Dragonmare he created himself. He left the Empire in possession of hundreds of useless unfinished Dragonmares. Now, only five were in use. They proved extremely useful in mock battles. This would be the unit’s first true assignment, and they were expected to pass with flying colors.

As Flomu approached the doors to the Dragonmare chamber, they hissed open.
“You’re late,” Captain Evren said. The Vermana captain stood next to her. Though he was a higher rank, it sometimes seemed like Evren controlled him. Her sheer will and force often made others comply. Even now, the captain’s head hang, cringing at her maniacal voice.
“I will leave you know, I must…tend to the ship.” The captain exited the room in a quick pace.
“You’re late,” Evren repeated, wearing the scowl she usually wore. In addition to her customary frown, she wore her hair in a tight, harsh bun, and her lips were always thin as hair. Her relatively short stature was deceiving. As weak as she looked, she was very strong, both in the mind and body. She never lost an argument, and had a way of controlling people. Perhaps this was why she could control her Dragonmare so well. Even it, which was fierce and furious in the mock battles, grew just a bit timid when she was around. Her commanding nature scared Flomu now. He had to say something quick, to save himself from being transferred to some hell hole.
“I did not know I was supposed to be here.”
“Fool!” Evren snarled. “You are supposed to be in here every time we are to deploy the Dragonmares! You were supposed to be finished with diagnostics half an hour ago!”
“I’m very sorry…a Bhout malfunctioned.”
“Bhouts are not important. The Darahs are not important. The Vermana is not important. The Dragonmare squad, however, IS important.”
“But-“
“Silence!” Evren screeched. “Follow me to the Dragonmare pen.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Flomu said. What else COULD he say?

The two approached the door to the Dragonmare pen, which creaked open slowly. There hanging off the wall, were bars. Here, the Dragonmares rested and cocooned themselves by wrapping their tails around the bar. They slept quietly; the calm before the storm.
“Perform the diagnostics! NOW!!” Evren screeched. The four other members of the Dragonmare squad wordlessly looked at Flomu as they were aided in being dressed into their protective movement limiting armor. A human body could not withstand the stresses felt while riding the Dragonmare, so this bulky suit had to be used.

As Evren started dressing into the armor, Flomu ran the diagnostics on all five Dragonmares. Running blood tests proved that they were disease free. A quick check of their osculators, which produced acidic mucus rather than the Arrows of Light the Ancient Age dragons were notorious for, proved that they were functional. Finally, Flomu checked the mind control chip, planted in the brain stem. This was important, as it was the core reason that the Dragonmares could be controlled. If it failed to function, the Dragonmare would act of its own free will, causing an epic catastrophe. However, the chip showed that it worked flawlessly; the Dragonmares were fully prepared for the task at hand.
“Are you done yet?” Evren said, as she waddled in her cumbersome suit.
“I’ve just finished the diagnostics. Everything’s fine.”
“I hope so for your sake,” she growled. A technician came from behind and placed a helmet upon Evren’s head. The helmet had a small opening for sight, which the helmet improved by allowing the wearer to see in the dark and also see objects almost a mile away clearly. She spoke through the helmet’s voice system, producing a radio sounding transmission.
“If any of the Dragonmares fail, if one of my comrades dies from a folly of yours, you will meet a fate worse than death.”
“They will not fail. They’ve done fine in mock battles.”
“Don’t be too sure. You are not a soldier or a pilot. You are merely a technician. Therefore, you are liable to fail at anything.”

As Evren and the rest of the Dragonmare squad climbed into the little hole dug into the back of the Dragonmares, Flomu felt a jolt followed by vibration. The Vermana had taken off. As Flomu made his way back to the hanger, fire glowed in his eyes. He did not fail at everything. He could be just as good as any foot soldier or pilot under the command of the Emperor. And he would show them all.

“Michima,” Flomu said as he entered the hanger. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”




2: City In the Storm

“We are approaching the Seeker outpost! I repeat, the Seeker outpost is near! All battle groups, prepare!”
The captain’s voice spurred an increase of action within the Vermana. Bhout pilots entered their crafts, climbing onto the wooden platform resting upon the float engine, and donning their helmets and goggles. Darah drivers climbed into the protective metal shells that were their vehicles, checking that all missiles were prepared. Technicians retreated into the Vermana, reporting to their stations, and preparing to give the Dragonmares the signal to attack the Yelico Valley outpost; all but one. That man was Flomu. As he climbed atop the wooden platform resting on the float engine, the core of the Bhout, he placed Michima’s helmet and goggles upon his head. Besides protecting his eyesight from the wind, and, because of the storm outside, the rain he would encounter, they served a second purpose. Because the leaving of one’s post during war was illegal punishable by death, the helmet and goggles would protect his identity, for the most part. He wouldn’t pass a close inspection, but Flomu doubted anyone would take a good hard look at him in the heat of battle. Because Flomu worked alone in the Vermana, Michima would hardly come into contact with anyone else for the duration that their roles in the Empire were temporarily switched, so he was safe as far as being found out was concerned.
“Flomu,” Michima said. “I will see you after the battle.”
“I thank you once again for the chance to be part of the army.”
Michima bowed. “May the spirit of the Ancients watch over you.”
“May the Emperors guide you.”
And, with that, Michima retreated into the very innards of the Vermana. Michima was very intelligent, and Flomu did not doubt that he would be able to carry out the work of a technician.

Flomu looked around the launch bay and saw a mass of soldiers and pilots, ready to be flung into battle at the whim of the beloved captain. With the momentary pause in action, Flomu thought back to Michima’s words about the overall mission. They were to retrieve a girl. Why the Empire would be interested in such an objective, let alone send a whole armada to retrieve her, was still a mystery. Well, now that Flomu was a temporary pilot, it would seem that he would find out.

The bay doors opened as the captain’s deep voice reverberated through the cavernous hanger.
“All escort Bhouts must exit the Vermana now!”
Michima was an escort, which, in turn, meant that Flomu was an escort. As numerous Bhouts took off and left the hanger, Flomu activated the float engine that kept the craft in the air. Looking like a white misshapen rock, with black veins running through, the float engine was just one of the many advancements gleamed from the Ancient Age. And, now, though it helped make the Empire rise, the float engine would now aid in making a Seeker outpost fall.

Flomu flew the Bhout out the bay door, leaving many more Bhouts and Darahs within. He joined the battle cluster surrounding the Vermana, consisting of mainly Bhouts and old age air ships. Moisture from the cloud they were passing through fogged Flomu’s goggles. A message reached Flomu through the Bhout’s radio. The voice belonged to Evren.
“All units, you are to hold fire until the Dragonmare squad and I make our attack. After we open fire, you are to attack on will. Decimate the Seekers, and the Dragonmare squad shall retrieve the girl. For the glory of the empire!”
Through the wind, a cheer was audible, emanating from the ships.

To Flomu’s side, the Vermana’s search lights went into action, beaming back and forth. Almost simultaneously, the Vermana, Flomu, and the rest of the battle group emerged from the clouds, and rain pattered upon Flomu’s head from the terrible storm. Flomu could only imagine the beautiful and formidable sight that would be the Vermana bursting from the very heavens. Here, the Seeker encampment was in view. It was a rather large town; highly developed and populated with many buildings and, in the center, the tower that Michima spoke of. As the encampment moved from 3 miles to 2 miles away, the Dragonmare pod doors opened, creaking slowly as gears and cogs turned. The bars from which they slept slid out of the ship, hanging from the side. Technicians on the side of the Vermana waved luminescent scepters to tell the squad they were free to attack. Evren moved her head around, in the cavity in the Dragonmare’s back, to see the scepters wave. As they did, Evren’s Dragonmare awakened from its deep sleep and sprung to life, releasing the bar from his tail and diving into the wind with a terrible screech. By straightening its wings, the Dragonmare caught wind and fluttered in the air, its talons hanging loose and its eyeless face held in a snarl. Already, Evren’s Dragonmare’s oscillator was shining a faint green through its throat. In a matter of milliseconds, the rest of the Dragonmare squad followed their leader’s actions and released their Dragonmare’s from the resting bars, catching up with her.

Down on the ground, Flomu could see a whirl of action. Women and children ran for their lives as men took weapons to fight for their land and family. The Dragonmares gracefully swooped down, spitting their acidic mucus, destroying establishments, and slaughtering the Seekers. As their attack began, the Vermana, Flomu, and the rest of the escort group arrived over the Seeker outpost. The Dragonmares had attacked. Now it was Flomu’s turn. Taking the lead of the rest of the soldiers, Flomu dived into action. Flying about a hundred feet above ground level, Flomu unleashed the missiles stored in his Bhout. With explosive energy, the missiles launched from the square pod underneath the float engine. It was as if the Emperor’s of past years had joined, smiting the rebellious group with their very thoughts. Fellow pilots flew and shot men and women alike. The pure carnage was breathtaking.

The Seekers had turrets. They were primitive things that shot burning bottles filled with some explosive liquid. They yelled as they unleashed their weapons, sending the burning bottles into the air. Next to Flomu a Bhout, with its wooden platform, caught fire, killing the pilot, and sending it to the ground. Flomu stared at his fellow soldier, smoldering on the ground below. With anger burning in his very soul, Flomu unleashed a barrage of missiles at the turret. The poor Seekers operating the turret screamed at their fate as they were enveloped in an explosion that included Flomu’s missiles and the extra bottles stockpiled next to them. In the explosion, a nearby coolia stable was partially destroyed, sending the frightened beasts of burden into an all out stampede.

The Darahs, hovering just a few inches off the ground, moved quickly along the dirt paths. They destroyed the search lights that the Seekers were using to find their attackers, and also took care of ground soldiers. Although the Seekers had guns, they helped little against the armored units. At the very worst, a small dent was created, and that was a badge of honor.

Flomu watched in a momentary lull in action as the Dragonmares closed in on their target; the tower in the center of the outpost. The Dragonmares swooped, crashing into the prison at the top of the tower. The room opened up, and the target was just barely visible to Flomu. The girl was small, and, though he was quite a bit far away, Flomu noted that she looked not older than 18. He could barely make out her short white hair, so he assumed his guess on age was a little off.

The Dragonmares, however, did not give thought to her. All they wished for was the completion of the mission, and already one Dragonmare’s oscillator was glowing green. It seemed obvious that the Academy did not need her alive to be useful, which only increased Flomu’s confusion. In fact, only the blur of a winged being took his mind off the girl and the Academy.

The blur was most likely a Dragonmare, so he would not normally think anything of it. However, five Dragonmares were at the tower, and a sixth had not yet been created. So, what was that winged figure that had sped past Flomu’s Bhout? The figure, aiming for the tower, suddenly shot beams of light, striking the Dragonmares, who, caught by surprise, were blown away. They quickly dispersed, and the thing landed within the tower. Raising its blue wings, and raising its horned head, Flomu realized that this was a genuine dragon. Not an artificial dragon that paled in comparison to the real thing, but a live breathing dragon. The fact that he had employed the Arrows of Light upon the Dragonmares, and even won to an effect, strengthened Flomu’s assumption. The dragon lowered its body as the girl climbed upon its back. The two escaped, flying away from the tower. The five Dragonmares regained their senses from whence they scurried and followed, both wanting the target and thirsting for the blood of the being that challenged them.

On the radio, Flomu heard Evren’s voice say, “A dragon!? How interesting. All units prepare for attack!”
Flomu was not in the mood to challenge a creature brazen enough to attack one Dragonmare, let alone five. Therefore, as the pursuit continued, Flomu moved in the opposite direction. Here’s where he drew the line; he was no pilot, and he was not skilled enough to kill a dragon. So, he decided to continue what he had been doing. However, on the ground, the battle had intensified. With the sight of the dragon, the Seekers gained confidence, morale, and strength. They were even brazen enough to attack the Darahs, tossing explosives into the missile pod, and watching them explode. They now rode on their coolias, guns in hand. They were now up for a fight, and why not? After all, dragons were seen as good omens and bringers of hope among most tribes and Seekers. Flomu wished he could say the same for the Empire.

Although good luck in the tribes and Seekers of the world, dragons were considered bad omens and bringers of destruction in the Empire. It was most likely the one thing created in the Ancient Age that the Empire feared and hated the most. Dragons were created by the Ancients in factories not unlike the Cradle. Although flesh and blood, they were artificial, and were created through genetic research to be the ultimate war machine. The pure type monsters found in Ancient ruins, placed so to protect them from thieves and other trespassers, were created the same way. Dragons, however, were much more aggressive, stronger, and dangerous. Placed to protect the Towers, the dragons annihilated all who came near with their Arrows of Light, the lasers produced by the oscillator in their throats. And recently, in the past century, a dragon had caused a complete collapse of the Empire, a time known as the Great Fall. The dragon had plagued the Empire at other times, as well, whether it was destroying an archeologist team inspecting a tower, or being ridden by some rebellious demon who vied for the collapse of the Empire. And that was why they were praised by the Seekers and small tribes.

Could this dragon be the one that had plagued the Empire? Time would tell, but it did seem a little too convenient for a dragon that was not guarding an Ancient relic or shrine to randomly attack an Imperial squad and aid a target in escape. Just who was that girl? And why did the dragon save her? Was it possible that the dragon felt pity for the girl? Or was there a deeper reason? Flomu, with difficulty, forced the thoughts that had invaded his mind out of his head. He had a task to eliminate the Seekers. He was no Hunter that killed pure type and mutated monsters for sport and contracts. He was no dragon hunter, either. He was not even a soldier. Therefore, it seemed best for Flomu not to get involved in this matter. Surely the Dragonmare unit could handle it.

The blast from the ground skimmed Flomu’s helmet. A Seeker had shot at him, and, since Flomu was so caught up in his thoughts, he did not evade the blast. The goggles and helmet fell uselessly at his feet. No matter. Although the rain had not let up, Flomu was still able to see, albeit with difficulty. There was suddenly chatter on the radio, “Damn it! She flew into the sewers! My Dragonmare is too big to fit in. I cannot follow.”
Evren spoke, “Very well then. Bhouts have already been dispatched. Besides, there is a chance she will exit right under the Vermana. However, this is OUR assignment! We cannot allow others to destroy the plan. We are the ones who must bear the honor of completing the mission.”

The last part of the transmission made little sense. The message that was said would only make sense to the Dragonmare unit. Why would they be saying that the only important units here were Dragonmares on the open channel? Unless that message was not on the open channel, but the source was close. Flomu quickly glanced around and saw the squad about a meter away to his right. He went on, hoping they wouldn’t notice he was out of formation. Luck, however, abandoned him.

“You there,” Evren said. “Why are you out of formation? Do have an idea of what is going on!?”
Evren sped her Dragonmare and flew in front of Flomu, facing him. The other Dragonmares surrounded him, boxing him in. Evren stared at Flomu’s face as they all hovered in place. However, even with her sight enhancing equipment, it was doubtful that Evren would recognize him; not with the goggles and helmet securely on his head…

Flomu’s stomach lurched as he remembered the partially melted goggles and helmet on the floor of the Bhout. His face was as protected as a wooden forest to fire.
“Ah, Flomu,” Evren said. “What have we here? As I remember, you are not a pilot. Conducting repairs on the Vermana from a Bhout, are you?”

Sweat beaded upon Flomu’s forehead, mixing with the rain provided by the night sky above. This was not the best of scenarios, and, since he was caught, it would not be long before Michima would be found out, as well. Flomu had known better. He knew somehow that they would get caught, and yet he allowed his petty dignity to fling him into this mess to prove himself to a scornful woman. Now he had condemned him and his friend to an execution.

A radio transmission entered the scene with explosive force.
“This is the Vermana, calling all units within the vicinity! We are under attack by an airborne creature and are sustaining heavy damage! I repeat, we are under attack by an airborne creature being ridden by the target. We require immediate assistance!”

After a moment, the Vermana hailed the Dragonmare squad, and Flomu could hear the message clearly, as the source was only a few meters away.
“Vermana to Dragonmare squad! The Drone is here! The damned thing is riding what appears to be a dragon! We need immediate assistance!”

Things began to make sense when the Vermana captain had said the word “Drone”. The girl that Flomu had thought was human was actually an Ancient Age monster, created in the likeness of man. Few had ever been seen, and even fewer had been actually studied. The Academy wanted the girl for experiments, perhaps to find out the means to create one of the creatures. In that way, the Empire would have the “key” for activating Ancient relics. However, as the thought of the Drone opened up answers to Flomu, it also opened the gates to fear. Drones were known as dangerous beings, not to be trifled with. And, to make matters worse, the Drones method of transportation was an accursed dragon. The matter could not get any worse.

“Captain, the Vermana…” one of the squad began.
“The Vermana can wait!” Evren answered. “It is an assault carrier against a single entity. I doubt the Vermana can be destroyed so easily. For now, we have to deal with this putrid man who has left his post on the Vermana, and that means that the man who he traded jobs with must also die. You are a liability, Flomu. For that, you must die here!”
Evren’s Dragonmare shot forth a mass of bubbling mucus. The acidic substance caught Flomu’s Bhout on the float engine. The Bhout rocked and whined as it fell apart in the night air, and as Flomu fell towards the earth, he prayed for a quick death. He was met, unfortunately, with searing pain shooting through his body.

Flomu considered lying wherever the hell he was until he died, but the burning sensation next to his arm was more than enough to spur him up. Struggling to his feet, he surveyed his surroundings and noticed that he had crashed through a small hut, and the roof had broken his fall, and possibly his back. Grimacing in pain, he noted that part of his Bhout had followed him through the hole in the ceiling and lied in a burning pile. Fire began to spread to the hut walls, which quickly took.

As Flomu made his way to the nearby exit leading to the second hell of the battlefield, something caught his leg. Flomu stumbled and caught himself on a nearby table. He quickly glanced at the floor and found an arm sticking out from under the burning pile that had once been a Bhout. The hand reflexively twitched and slowly blackened as the fire took in new fuel. Blood surrounding the arm bubbled and simmered, releasing a horrid stench. Flomu clasped his hand to his lips, catching his vomit before it reached his mouth. A young voice burst open from the corer screaming, “PAPA!!” Flomu whirled around and looked at the far corner of the hut glimpsing a large group of women and children, huddling in fear from the intruder. The young girl looked wide-eyed at the arm under the burning ruble, while her mother held her back, covering her mouth. Now, all stared at Flomu, some with tears in their eyes. The boys frowned at him, grunting in anger.

This had been one of the huts where the women and children had fled from battle, and the man that the Bhout had killed had been dutifully guarding them. Somehow, Flomu felt pity for the whimpering mass in the corner.

Flomu glanced up through the hole in the ceiling and saw the Dragonmares circling above the house. They had seen him land within and were no doubt about to obliterate the hut, along with the women and children. Flomu, glanced at the beings in the corner, and decided to draw the Dragonmares away. He would not allow these people to be slaughtered, even if they were Seekers. The Empire could not kill women and children; it would ruin all that they stood for. Flomu turned to the whimpering group. “Stay,” he said calmly. “All will be fine. But you must be quick of extinguishing the fire spreading on the walls. Use some of the water in the basin, but do not venture outside.”
The women nodded, and Flomu ran out, yelling.

The Dragonmares glimpsed Flomu and dove forth, spewing acid and tearing the pavement apart. The street was a maze of death and destruction; empty shells of Darahs lay scattered, bodies Imperial and Seeker alike cluttered the street, and buildings and watchtowers tumbled. Smoke clogged the night air, and fire raged. If there was truly a hell, it would be reminiscent of this.

Flomu needed speed. The Dragonmares were closing in, and Flomu grabbed the closest thing he could find; a Coolia. Coolias were two legged beasts of burden, and were the only mutated monsters Flomu could think of that were able to be domesticated. Luckily, the creature already had a saddle attached to its back, allowing Flomu to quickly hop atop its back and ride it through the nightmare of the battlefield. The Coolia growled at its new rider, but its limited intelligence allowed it to quickly forget that it had never seen Flomu in its life.

With his new “vehicle”, Flomu moved as fast as the Coolia would take him, moving through the destroyed town that the Seekers had spent so much time constructing. Flomu could only guess that, before the attack, the city had a smooth logical layout. Now, however, the city was a labyrinth of death and destruction. Some buildings had parts intact, and Flomu could not help but marvel at their design. The beauty was almost impossible, as these were not Imperial citizens, but rebel thieves. The Seekers had intellect, as portrayed by the surroundings. Surviving statues and monuments were laden with intricate design and purpose. There were music and book shops, now utterly destroyed, but a book or two had been salvaged by fate from the fire. It was mind blowing that these people could construct such buildings and create such intellectual goods when they did not have the technology of the Empire, and considering that their warriors certainly could not defend against an attack of mutated monsters, if such an event occurred.

Flomu had to return to the Vermana. It was the only location he could think of, and perhaps it would lead the Dragonmares into defending it instead attacking him. In the back of his mind, Flomu realized this would do nothing in the long run. He would still be promptly executed when command found out what he had done.

The thoughts in his mind were promptly jammed to the back of his skull when his vantage point changed. He was no longer bouncing along on the ground; he was flying smoothly through the air. He could smell the sweet yet sour smell of the Dragonmare mucus and realized that his Coolia was now nothing more than blackened bones.

Finally landing just outside the town gate with a crash, Flomu was once again reminded that he was very much alive through a cracked rib in his chest. Perhaps he cracked two. Nevertheless, even his pain paled in comparison to the sight he now saw.

In the air was the Vermana. But fire, smoke, and explosions blossomed through it’s hull. And, there, fluttering gracefully amidst the chaos was the attacker itself. The dragon, with its Drone rider, attacked the great carrier with great force to rival the Dragonmares. Opening it’s mouth, the dragon emitted lasers from its osculator, bright blue and deadly, aimed at the Vermana. From an engineer’s perspective, Flomu reckoned that the ship had little time left. The fact it was still flying with the amount of damage it sustained was amazing in itself. From what Flomu could see, the cockpit was burning, the hanger doors were utterly destroyed, the gas canisters were ruptured, the forward canons ravaged to the point they no longer fired, and the communications antennae was smoking from the top.

“Damn,” Flomu heard Evren scream. “The damned dragon is destroying the Vermana. We must aid it!”
Overhead, so close that if Flomu stood up his head would have been taken off, the Dragonmares flew forward, intent on ending the catastrophe taking place.

The float engine cracked, and explosions emerged to the surface. The Vermana, without anything to aid in lift, fell quite quickly to the ground, secondary explosions still ravaging the carcass of the great carrier. It took Flomu only a minute, but the name escaped his lips in a strangled moan, “Michima!” Michima was dead, most likely, along with about 99% of the crew, if that one percent was lucky. Was it Flomu’s fault that Michima was now dead? Most likely. If Flomu had listened to his instincts and refused Michima’s favor, it would be Flomu that was dead, but he would have saved Michima from a grizzly fate.

The Drgonmares paused for a moment, confused with the protocol for this current situation, then decided to pursue the dragon which had flown out of Flomu’s view. What would Flomu do now? He was a criminal, sentenced to death. He could never return to the Empire without a death wish in mind.

So, what would be his next move?











3: The Forest

As Flomu sat, propped up against a tree, clutching his head in intense pain, he realized his decision hadn’t been the best he’d made.

After Flomu had witnessed the Vermana go down in flames, he thought the only thing he could do was to get as far away from the battlefield as he could. The city, or what was left of the city, held no reason to keep Flomu. The outpost had been nearly decimated, though he was surprised how long the Seekers held out for. He had believed they were cowering bastards, huddling in fear of the Empire, clutching in their foul hands the birthright to the Emperor. They, however, proved Flomu wrong with their readiness to fight for their land and families.

Capable or not, however, the Seekers had most certainly lost the battle. What were once buildings were now crumbled husks, the stone still bubbling and simmering from the acidic mucus produced by the Dragonmares. The ground forces had touched down and were now in the progress of rounding up the Seekers that had survived to be brought to the Imperial capital, once a replacement ship arrived to take them back, that was.

The Vermana lay a few miles off in the distance, still burning from the battle; a massive inferno lying upon the barren wasteland that was the Yelico Valley, happily defying the torrential rainstorm attempting to put it out. Flomu could only imagine the sight within the Vermana as it was going down: crewmen in utter panic, soldiers reaffirming their loyalty to the Empire by reciting the Imperial Oath one last time, and the captain struggling with the controls to no avail. There was no doubt that the Empire would try to salvage what was left. They certainly weren’t eager to give up such a large carrier. No, the Empire would most certainly bring the Vermana back to the Imperial capitol to be repaired.

The cold stone applied to Flomu’s back was a sudden surprise. A hand on his shoulder, Flomu remained absolutely still as a mouth approached his ear.
“You will follow me,” the voice had whispered. Flomu was shoved forward onto his hands and knees, aggravating his cracked ribs. Struggling to his feet, Flomu caught a glimpse of his captor. The clothing marked him as a Seeker; a brightly colored garment on his body and a cap of stone atop his head. He had looked dirty and disheveled, assumingly from the battle, and he bled from numerous cuts upon his face. Flomu read distrust and anger from his face, yet also some form of respect.

The walk had been torturous for Flomu. Gun shots and explosions were emanating from nearby. But that was within the city walls; Flomu and his captor walked outside the huge wooden confinements, circling the city and the battle within. Within a half hour, they had arrived at their destination. Flomu’s captor pointed his gun forward, in a gesturing way. It had taken Flomu a second to notice what he was looking at. An ancient hover bike sat there, ready for a willing pilot.
“But…why?” Flomu stammered.
“I do not like you. You burned my village. You killed my friends. But you are not like the others. You saved my wife and child within that hut. They were one of the beings in the corner. You drew your damned monsters away from them, giving them time to escape. You saved my family. For that, I am supplying you with this vehicle to take you far away from here.”
Flomu stared at the Seeker’s weapon, an ancient laser gun, fashioned from the same black and white stone used by the Ancients in all of their relics and structures. This was a ruse; as soon as Flomu had gotten a few yards ahead, the Seeker would shoot him in the back for a grim sense of satisfaction.

The Seeker had apparently noticed Flomu’s distrust.
“You need not fear me,” he said. “If you were another, I would have killed you where you stood minutes ago. But you are not like the others. Your eyes tell a different story from theirs. They see only loyalty to the Empire. The do not question orders, no matter how inhumane it is; to them, this is their life. You, however, are different. Your eyes tell me that you care not for this bloodshed. You question your orders in your mind; you want an escape from this life.”
“I do not!” Flomu had cried. “My loyalty to the Empire is unwavering! I enjoy what I do because what I do is right!”
The Seeker grasped Flomu by his collar and picked him up off the floor with one arm. His ribs screamed in pain.
“You should be thanking me for what I say!” screamed the Seeker. “How could you be proud to be a part of such a corrupt and evil nation?”
Flomu had opened his mouth to speak, but before he procured words a hand slapped him across the face. He tasted metal.
“The answer is that you are not proud. If you truly were, you would not have questioned orders and saved the women and children in that hut.”
Flomu could not answer. The man had brought up an interesting point: Why had Flomu saved the people in that hut. They were the enemy, and they were ordered to kill everyone there. Was it easy for him to abandon orders because he technically was not a soldier, and was not particularly ordered to kill? Or was it something more? Doubt lingered, bringing with it the first foul stench of rebellion…

A bullet whizzed by Flomu’s face, and he heard a juicy thwack as it struck the Seeker in the chest. Flomu fell to the floor and watched the Seeker, blood dripping from his wound, toss him the ancient laser. “Go,” he gasped. His eyes closed for an eternity of sleep.

The next few minutes were utter chaos. The Seeker’s killers, a group of Imperial soldiers, spotted Flomu, recognized his face, and started firing. The orders to kill him must have come before the Vermana went down! Flomu ran, ignoring his ribs, and jumped behind a nearby boulder. That was when the wooden wall surrounding the stronghold collapsed, either intentionally or unintentionally, crushing the soldiers. Laser in hand, Flomu jumped aboard the hover bike. He had been worried at first; he had no idea how to start the damn thing. But, after a few moments of thought, he was able to locate the ignition, a conspicuously place pedal.

Once the hover bike was activated, it had lifted into the air half a meter, suspended by the irregularly shaped float engine. It took Flomu another moment to figure out how to move; a shift in weight in any direction would cause the bike to move in that direction. It was simple enough. The question was whether or not it had enough speed to outrun anyone who was intent on stopping him.

Flomu gave little chance to allow that question to be answered; he had begun moving as soon as he was able to. His target location was the Forest of Mutation. Similar to the much older Forest of Taboo, the vast area of vegetation was home to a myriad of creatures, usually mutated monsters. However, where the Forest of Taboo had vanished since the Great Fall, when most of the planet had died, the Forest of Mutation still thrived. It was still unknown as to why this particular area of the planet thrived with vegetation. However, the forest would now serve as Flomu’s hideout, at least until he found a new location to call home.

The idea would seem absurd to most. Specifics of what lie inside were immeasurably unknown, as the vast amount of mutated monsters that called the forest home were more than enough to keep normal folk from venturing within. All that was known was that a great river snaked through most of the forest, the forest was 600 miles in diameter, ending abruptly and giving way to barren wasteland, and also that some uncivilized tribes inhabited the area, living side-by-side with the mutated monsters. Every scientist, cartographer, and surveyor sent in to gather intel on the area never returned, so Flomu was going in blind.

The possibility of survival, however, had been more enticing than certain death if he were to return to the Empire. Therefore, Flomu pushed forward and traveled out of the Yelico Valley, pausing briefly only to survey the carnage that were the remains of the Vermana, and commenced his trip to the Forest of Mutation.

------------------------------------------

“…And so the Verman, suffering extensive damage to both its hull and float engine, fell to the ground. The fall further damaged the ship, though we believe it may be possible to repair it if it were to be taken back to the capital.”

The Emperor, in his floating throne, listened to his messenger’s words. He shifted uncomfortably; he absolutely abhorred his crown of red velvet and his tight clothing. Such was the possession of power, however. He responded, his hand messaging his forehead, “And you say that the Vermana was attacked by a dragon?”
“Yes, sir, with the drone riding it.”
“Abadd?”
“No, sir, the girl.”
The Emperor unveiled a handkerchief and wiped away the sweat that had beaded upon his face.
“Were there survivors?” he asked.
“After an extensive search of the ship, inside and out, the conclusion has been made that most of the crew died in the attack.”
“Most? There are survivors?”
“We are missing a body. It is believed that it belongs to Flomu Narikara. Captain Evren can tell you more about that matter.”
The messenger touched his head to the floor as a sign of reverence, got to his feet, and exited from the room.

Evren replaced him. Without her armor, she looked like nothing more than a small woman, but her face told a different story. The fury that showed on her face enticed a feeling of dread even from the Emperor. Evren did not wait long to recount the battle, pausing only to show her great reverence for the Emperor by performing a bow and kneeling to the floor, an act that she performed better than any other in the Imperial Army. In fact, despite being a woman, Evren performed most of her duties flawlessly compared to her male counterparts. She did her job well, which is why the Emperor had given her the astounding honor of being the first female captain of any squad.

Soldiers disagreed. They all disagreed. Having a woman as a leader caused an uproar from even those she did not command. Such was the result of change, that foul action which, when invoked, forces all into an unjustified panic whether the result of the alteration is beneficial or malicious. The men refused to take orders from her. They thoroughly believed she had no place in the Imperial Army as a soldier, let alone a commanding officer. Arms were to be soon taken up in all out rebellion. Sentiment against Evren, however, decreased as the movements leaders were all reassigned to the most desolate regions of the land by Evren herself; the Desert of Kamka, the mountainous Dragon Rise, and the icy tundra of the Imperial north, Dumskam. After this massive forced exodus, many gained respect for the woman and accepted her as a leader.

This was not to say all accepted the fact that there was a person of the opposite sex that held a position higher than theirs. All discontent, however, was eventually obliterated atop the mountain of Achroma. It was here that the Dragonmare Squad began their training. It was also here that Evren began to handpick her comrades from a group of 25 men, selected to be a possible member of the Dragonmare Squad due to their service to the Empire. Evren called each man up one by one, reading their profile aloud and having a public meeting with them, their nervous sweat nearly freezing in the cold air produced by the high altitude.

One of these men, a foot soldier named Koga Maklahag, was one of the men that still held great resentment towards being led by Evren. As Evren turned her back to retrieve his file, Koga rushed at her, his knife glinting in the setting sun. Official records said that, in his frenzy, the poor man misplaced his foot and tripped, tumbling a few hundred feet down the face of Achroma. Everyone, however, knew what had really happened. When Koga was within few feet’s distance of Evren, she spun around with her pistol and shot the man squarely in the forehead. Tossing him down the mountain was merely insuring that a convenient lie could be mustered up. After that unofficial incidence, everyone followed whatever order she gave, either out of respect, fear, or a mixture of the two.

And here Evren was now, recounting the battle that had just cost the Empire its largest assault carrier. Her hair, held in its tight bun, bobbed up and down as she spoke from her knees.
“At approximately 22 hours and 40 minutes, my Dragonmare unit and the rest of the Imperial air force made its attack on the Seeker encampment in the Yelico Valley. All was going according to plan. My unit arrived at the tower in the center of the encampment about 3 minutes later. However, right before we incapacitated the target to make transportation easier, it attacked.”
“The dragon,” the Emperor whispered.
“Yes.”
“Captain Evren, what color was it.”
“It was sky blue,” she answered nervously.
The Emperor quietly listened, and then suddenly arched his back. A scream arose from his mouth, a scream of fear and anger. He ended it by pounding his fist into his floating throne’s armrest, making it teeter to one side. This dragon, this blue dragon, the Dragon of Destruction, the beast that had plagued the empire, had returned!

“This dragon must be eliminated. ,” he said in the most controlled voice he could muster. “The drone must be retrieved. Do you understand?”
Evren smirked. “Would you think I would give up trying to complete my objective?”
“Of course not. But you must not fail again.”
“Trust me, I would die before I failed to complete my objective.”
“I am sure you would. Now, on to the reason you did not arrive to aid the Vermana…”
Evren’s eyes suddenly flashed.
“Flomu…”
“Who?”
“Flomu Narikara. A technician aboard the Vermana. I know him well.”
“Why did he impede your ability to come to the Vermana’s aid?”
“He was not aboard the Vermana. He traded places with a Bhout pilot. And the penalty for leaving your post during battle is death.”
“And you just allowed the Vermana to burn?”
“He was a liability to the outcome of the battle. He actually attempted to save some Seekers from their fate. Little does he know that Imperial soldiers raided the offending hut half an hour after the Vermana went down and killed them regardless of his previous actions.”
“I see. Did you kill him?”
Evren lowered her gaze. “He escaped. We pursued, but when we saw how dire the Vermana situation was, we abandoned the chase.”
“Does this mean that Flomu fled and is still alive?”
Evren touched her head to the floor. “I apologize, sir, but that is correct.”
“I assume you will continue your objective of retrieving the girl?”
Evren smiled. “I vie to make it suffer. The dragon will writhe in pain, as well!”
“Very well. It seems than I will have to use other methods to tie up our little loose end. The Empire has never liked unfinished matters, and this Flomu character is no exception.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The trip had taken two days and one night. Arriving on the second night under the two moons that hovered in the sky, Flomu had realized just how moronic his idea of living in the forest for a while was. It was a formidable sight to watch barren wasteland composed of nothing but rock and sand turn into a lush and thriving forest without warning; the line that separated the colossal trees from dirt and rock could have been drawn with a ruler.

Realizing there was no turning back, Flomu revved up his hover bike and moved through the vegetation barrier into the lush greenery, illuminated by moonlight.

Flomu looked to his left.
Green.
Flomu looked to his right.
Green.
Flomu looked down.
Green.
Flomu looked up.
The moonlight shone through a hole in what seemed like an endless veil of…green!

Insects buzzed and chirped, but Flomu had heard no mutated beast. It made him uneasy. The forest should have been teeming with them. It gave him the feeling that they were there, but they did not want to be heard; that they were stalking him. Flomu sped the bike up, rocketing through the forest in a nervous frenzy. And as he moved farther and farther away from the forest barrier, the moonlight reached less and less.

It had gotten darker.

Perhaps that was why he failed to see the boulder imbedded in the soil which caused his bike to suddenly flip, throwing him free and crashing itself into a solid tree with a deafening impact.

Picking himself off the ground for the third time since his adventure began, and clutching his ribs, Flomu got to his feet, stunned but no more injured from before.

Though its float engine was intact, the hover bike could no longer be ridden. The seat had been utterly destroyed, and the mechanism that controlled the float engine had been irrevocably damaged. The Seeker’s laser was safely stowed in Flomu’s holster. His rations and fresh water, however, had been on the bike. Flomu began to move towards the tree.

The tree moved, too.

In reality, it was not the tree itself but a beast living within. An insect-like arm jolted out, and in the moonlight, Flomu could just make out its inspection of the remains of the hover bike.

Flomu sprinted in the opposite direction. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to make as much distance between him and that monster as he could. A sudden flutter above his head; a pair of Khoumushka. As they flew forward, their wings flapping and acidic drool dripping from their fang lined mouths, Flomu had realized just how exposed he was to the ravages of the forest. In a desert, where the ground was flat and there was no vegetation, one could see danger at a distance. In the forest, where the trees obstructed his view, Flomu had no idea where anything was. And at night, no less! He could have been surrounded for all he knew.

“Wait ‘till dawn,” Flomu muttered to himself. “I’ll sleep in a good hiding place. I’ll be protected, and in the morning I’ll see the danger.

Flomu proceeded a few more meters before he saw a boulder with the ground underneath partially hollowed out. He climbed in and blocked the entrance with some fallen branches. It was with great difficulty that his eyes finally closed in the enveloping darkness.

Morning came quicker than Flomu expected it to. The light shining through the branches in front of Flomu’s hideout was enough to awaken him. Shoving the branches aside, Flomu climbed out from the small space under the boulder.

The forest was greener if possible. But Flomu still could not see or hear any monster of any kind.

The bird had landed right next to him.

Of course, Flomu thought little of it. Birds were not high on his danger list. Though, if he gave the little being a better inspection, he would have noticed that this bird was not feathered. Instead, it had the bony outer armor so common to pure-type monsters. Perhaps this discovery would have averted the attack that followed.

But Flomu cared not for the small organism, and instead searched for larger creatures. In fact, it was only when the “bird” rapidly tapped his foot on the ground that it attracted Flomu’s attention.

It was staring right at him. It wasn’t a normal curious look. No, this look filled Flomu with dread, though he did not know quite why.

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD

The creature continued to stomp its foot on the ground while keeping an iron stair aimed at Flomu.

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD

The tempo suddenly increased, until its foot was a blur, and a continuous noise was emitted.

It was only now that Flomu realized this was a signal.

All too late, unfortunately.

It crashed through trees and other flora and finally came to a screeching halt roughly where the bird was. Now, it fluttered away, having given Flomu’s position away.

Flomu did not have much time to look, but the adrenaline that had been released into his blood was enough to create the effect of slowed time, slowed enough so that the image of that beast was forever imprinted upon his memory.

It moved on three legs, two in the front and one in the back, each leg ending in a diamond shaped shield of the rocky black-veined substance which was present on all Ancient Age monsters and structures. It had what seemed to be a soft center and had no visual organs to speak of. That was why the bird was tapping; it was using sound to tell the monster where Flomu was.

The beast, standing a meter tall, galloped roughly towards where Flomu stood. Flomu started running, but he assumed he made too much of a racket because he heard the beast close behind.

This was not good. He was running randomly through a monster infested forest. He did not dare to slow and aim at the monster with the laser.

The monster! It was a pure-type monster instead of the usual mutated monster. A creature from the Ancient Age! But why? Were there ruins nearby?

Flomu felt his foot catch on a stone and he yelled out in surprise as he fell to the ground. He rolled over onto his back and watched as the creature bounded forth and suddenly stopped. Flomu had stopped making noise and so the beast had no idea where he was. The monster simply stood where he was, barely moving, waiting for the instant that Flomu snapped a twig or kicked some gravel.

He slowly began to crab walk backwards, carefully placing his hands and feet.

It was a futile effort. The monster still sensed Flomu’s presence.

It bounded forth, its sharp bony legs ready to impale Flomu.

Flomu rolled to the side, and as he did so he felt the skin on his arm rip as the beast narrowly missed running its front appendages through his chest. The pain was so horrible that Flomu assumed his arm had been taken clean off. So horrible that his mind ceased to function; he now lay there staring right at the monster that had just attempted to end his life. Flomu watched as the monster made its move.

It ran away from Flomu.

Could some chance mutated beast have made noise causing the pure-type monster to believe Flomu had fled? Not likely. And as the beast ran until the trees obscured its body and Flomu’s senses returned to him, he now had the fear of the beast replaced by intense pain. He looked at his arm.

His red uniform had been shredded at the sleeve, revealing Flomu’s injury. A shard of that monster’s shield, the length of Flomu’s hand, was sticking out of his arm, entering his bicep about half an inch. Blood, however, was not visible around the wound. Flomu grasped the shard and pulled.

It would not budge.

He pulled again.

And again.

Soon, the pain of tugging this fragment of bony exoskeleton became too much to bare and Flomu gave up. As Flomu watched his wound, the shard created what seemed to be dark veins, visible even under his skin, which spread to the surrounding tissue, anchoring it.

The burst of pain to his head was as unexpected as it was painful. Doubling over, Flomu disposed of the contents of his stomach. After he finished and wiped the foul concoction from his lips, Flomu discovered at his dismay that the pain in his head had only increased. In addition, he could no longer keep his balance. The world spun around him as if he had stepped off of a ship that had been caught in a hurricane. He fell back and sat against a tree, his head banging the bark, in a vein attempt to force it out of his mind.

And so he continued to sit until now, as he replayed the events that led to this outcome. But he continued to mutter the mantra, “It hadn’t killed me.”

“It did not need to.”

The voice came from behind him. Flomu stood up shakily, still fighting for balance. All color seemed to be erased from the world, and he saw leaves falling up towards the trees. He was too confused to decide whether or not these were hallucinations.

This is why he stared for a few seconds at the man who had just spoken. He was a frail old thing, with traditional garb, a small turban, blue tribal face paint forming three dots and an arrow on the left side of his face, a long white beard reaching his waist, and more wrinkles than Flomu could count. He supported himself, hunched over, with a wooden cane, taller than he was. His face was tranquil, the hint of a smile tugging on his lips.

Flomu grasped for the laser attached to his back holster, which he seemed to have trouble holding due to his inability to partake in complex motor functions. When he finally grasped it, however, he brought it up and aimed it shakily at the old man.

“Who the hell are you,” he growled.

“You can call me your savior.”

“Don’t give me that crap. You’re an uncivilized tribesman, aren’t you? Dirty cannibal…”

The old man smiled. “Ah, is that what they teach you these days? I’ve heard that we’re stupid, we smell, and that we are uncivilized, but cannibalism is a new one.”

The old man seemed to grow larger and larger until he suddenly exploded in a shower of gore. What was left was nothing but a smoldering dot where he had once stood. Flomu shook his head, and the old man reappeared, whole and standing once more.

“I see the Tresant got you,” he said. “The venom is attacking your brain right now. You’ll be dead within an hour if you are not treated.”

“You’ll treat me? So I’m safe to eat? You uncivilized bastards eat other people! You’re dangerous psychopaths!”

“Which one of us is pointing a gun at a defenseless old man?”

Flomu growled as he held the trigger. A green orb appeared at the muzzle of the gun as energy was drawn from the surrounding area, until the orb was the size of a melon. He was about to release when he saw the old man look right past him. And, even with the venom of the thing in his veins, he could still make out the subtle nod of the man’s head. Flomu quickly turned around.

He had just enough time to see the cudgel screaming towards his head and the angry face of the man who held it.



4: Human Hunters

Flomu’s burning head lolled from side to side as his nearly blinded eyes sent as much information as they could to his ailing brain.

Wooden bars surrounding him, a cage.

Two exceptionally strong looking men carrying his cage.

A large opening devoid of trees.

Makeshift huts lined with monster leather.

Dark-skinned men and women, scantly clad.

A pot of boiling water.

A woman shaking two rattles, dancing madly around the cage which held Flomu.

And a spit being cleaned.

Even Flomu, in his pain-induced craze, could put two and two together; he would be these cannibals’ feast.

He attempted to yell out, to plead, but all that came out was a garbled gag. The two men didn’t even turn their heads. Their iron stare centered on a larger hut than the rest, smoke pouring out of the top. Flomu’s gaze centered on this structure for a moment before he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Flomu awoke within the large hut. He had been removed from the cage and now lay on a thin cot, resting on four posts. Three people watched him wake: the old man, the young man who had struck Flomu in the head, and finally the female who had been dancing around the cage. She seemed even now to mutter words in a strange foreign tongue, some foolish spell, perhaps. What a pitiful group now stood before him.

“Michima,” Flomu growled to his friend who stood next to him. “Kill them for me, would you?”

The old man and the woman watching Flomu gazed in pity, as the younger man chuckled a bit. Flomu realized he had been talking to a figment of his imagination.

“Just get it over with,” Flomu growled.
“I’m afraid the process is quite time consuming,” the old man tranquilly answered.
“And painful,” the young man added with a smile.

The two men advanced on Flomu as the woman continued to chant in her foreign tongue.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They hailed from the land of Ecchidartimus, a small country bordering the Empire, and they were, in simplest terms, Hunters. However, they were outcasts by normal Hunter standards. This was to be expected. Those of Ecchidartimus did not hunt monsters.

They hunted people.

The Human Hunters, as most called them, were a band of mercenaries and assassins, barely unified by a passive government (a six man group called the Horde) and the lack of any established religion. In fact, the people were only tied together by their bloody profession and their warrior finesse in battle.

Whether it was financial reasons or merely the thrill of the hunt, the Human Hunters were pure-bred killers, each working for the highest bidder. And these bidders had a wide range, from the disgruntled wealthy commoner to an entire country needing more troops for an upcoming battle. The funds gathered by each assignment were split fifty-fifty; half the funds went to the ones who had performed the duty, and the other half went to Ecchidartimus as a whole.

Pure Human Hunters began training right at their birth; males were intensely favored, so most females who were born were victims of infanticide, save those who would become child-bearing matriarchs. Because females were rare in Ecchidartimus, pure Human Hunters were rapidly declining in number. Most inhabiting the land were outcasts, put into exile by their own people. Ecchidartimus served as a home for these people, no questions asked, as long as they proved their worth to society. The country was essentially a melting pot for a number of different cultures from around the world.

The young males were taught and trained by the elders. Their bodies were pushed to the limits to create a race of super soldiers of strength, speed, and wit. The last stage in this training period consisted of accompanying a distinguished Human Hunter on a myriad of different missions, ranging from political assassinations to mercenary work. If the distinguished Human Hunter passed on a satisfactory report to the Horde, the trainee would be declared a full-fledged Human Hunter, fully prepared to take on work of his own, alone.

It was this process of taking another under one’s wing that currently shamed Ludrous Partamichi. His last mission had ended badly to say the least, even if his target had been destroyed. It left him with a horrid burned reminder of the left side of his face. Even now, he could feel nothing from the affected area, and he doubt he ever would again. At least he had stopped shedding ashes…that was a disturbing sight. It wasn’t so much the fact that he had lost half his face. Instead, what troubled him more was the fact that, as each flaky bit of ash had fallen, another ounce of his dignity and honor was irrevocably destroyed. Walking through the streets of Ecchidartimus to his standard backyard battle courtyard was an embarrassing feat. He was well respected, one of the best Human Hunters. In fact, he was once of the few who had born within the country, so most on the streets remained quiet as they showed respect for the injury to his spirit rather than his body. There were a few drunkards who had chuckled a bit and asked “How does it feel to fall from the grace of fortune, Ludrous?” It took all of his restraint not to slip a dagger into their tracheas. Nevertheless, even if he had, he’d probably be doing society a favor.

But here, in his battle courtyard, was the next cause of shame and dishonor. The Human Hunter trainee, who had worked with Ludrous for nearly a year. Vialo Mavar, a dark skinned youth of nineteen years hailing from some eastern country performed his tear-inducing exercises with the barest of grunts, dutifully awaiting his master’s arrival. He was lucky he had been caught exercising. If he had been caught sitting on the box a few meters away, Ludrous would have certainly disowned the youth. Either the boy was being dutiful or had done what Ludrous had intended and had secretly staked out the front of the house to see when Ludrous was approaching. Either way, Vialo had passed Ludrous’ test – for now.

Ludrous felt a wave of shame as he prepared himself to show his disfigured face to the youth. He was the teacher, so how could he show the badge of near failure? Would the child look at his glazed left eye, the missing ear, and the partially visible muscle and throw his respect for the man away? Would he grow unruly in the presence of a seemingly compromised elder? Or would he still hold admiration for his bulging muscle and violently efficient yet philosophical nature? Only walking forward would answer the question. Ludrous unlatched the gate and quietly stepped into the darkness. He would teach the youth one more lesson with this unique opportunity.

From his sheath, Ludrous pulled free a six-inch dagger. As he inched along the wall, waiting for the best time to strike forth, Vialo moved from practicing hand-to-hand to the weapons, starting with the single-handed Ancient Age laser. He grabbed the object and moved flawlessly, twirling and tumbling it, obliterating invisible foes in a flawlessly executed kata. Perhaps he showed some promise after all…

But, as if on cue, he suddenly dropped the pistol to the ground. As Vialo bent over to retrieve it from the ground, Ludrous took the chance and bounded forth in noiseless speed. Vialo, the perceptive youth he was, recognized the attack and quickly spun around to Ludrous’ back and hooked his arm around his throat, holding him still.
“Master,” he began. “You’re slipping. This attack was very easy to anticipate.”
Ludrous suddenly twisted his head around towards the left so the youth could view the tattered remains of his face. The boy was startled and loosened his grip but a fraction…it was all Ludrous needed. He grabbed the strangling limb and twisted hard enough to elicit a yelp of pain. In a split second, the roles were reversed. Vialo was kneeling on the ground, a dagger to the back of his neck.

“You’re dead,” Ludrous apathetically remarked as he sheathed his dagger.
“Master,” Vialo gasped in a mixture of horror and raw surprise. “Your face…what happened during the mission?”
Ludrous sighed. “A lapse in judgment. Let this be a lesson to you, Vialo. Always know that, no matter how blessed by fortune you are, luck can change in an instant. As for what happened…I really do not wish to delve into the events that transpired once more.”
“Understood…”
“And,” Ludrous continued. “Do not disregard the lesson I just demonstrated. A battle is unpredictable. Do not let the unaccounted surprise cloud your ability.”
“Yes, master,” the youth acknowledged.

The ancient communicator within Ludrous’ home suddenly bleeped. As he swiftly moved towards the communicator, he spoke without turning his head. “While I am within, take the Coolia from its cage and practice Coolia-back fighting. I shall return to watch shortly.”

Ludrous entered his lavish home and approached the white and black-veined apparatus flashing and beeping. Flicking a switch, he created a verbal connection with whoever had called.
“This is the Horde,” the voice announced. The members of the Horde never announced their individual names.
“Ah, hello. What is it you desire?”
“First, we would like to display our sympathy for your injury and wish you a quick recovery.”
“I am recovered,” Ludrous answered surely.
“Yes, but of course.”
“So, what is the reason for your call?”
“We have a new mission. It is, however, quite unprecedented. We are afraid of being tapped, so we are requiring you to come to the Horde Chambers.”
“What of the youth I have taken under my wing, Vialo Mavar?”
“Take him along, as well. Unlike the last mission, this does not require solitary action.”

As Ludrous exited into his courtyard, he noticed the Coolia, who he affectionately named Cabarella, devoid of Vialo.

Ludrous lazily sidestepped as his apprentice landed from the roof to where he stood moments before. As Vialo’s feet touched ground, Ludrous’ kick met his ribs, bruising the bone. If he hadn’t held back, his ribs would have been pulverized.

As Vialo was flown backwards, Ludrous jumped forward onto his belly and pinned him to the ground in a painful arm bar.

“As you can see, Vialo, I haven’t slipped.” As Vialo struggled to his feet, Ludrous continued. “But I appreciate your courage to challenge your master.”



An hour later, the pair arrived at the Horde Chambers. The building was a large columned structure, ornately decorated with marble statues of soldiers. In the front garden, the Ecchidartimusan flag, a gold soldier flanked by a red background, flew high.

This ornate design could be viewed as compensation for the Horde’s near lack of power over the people of Ecchidartimus. Regardless, it was this beautiful building Ludrous and Vialo entered. Waiting in the reception hall were the six members of the Horde. They were burly men, whose only restriction from the battlefield was old age.

“What is the mission?” Ludrous asked. He could see behind their eyes their hesitance to send him on what seemed like a very important task, especially after his recent disfiguring mishap. Nevertheless, they spoke.
“Our employer refused to tell us the objective directly. Instead, he wants to meet with you, first.”
“But who is the employer?”
“The leader of a country who has persecuted us and banned communication with us. The leader of the only country bordering us that has never employed our services.”
Ludrous thought long and hard. He could not think of anyone bordering them fitting the description. Except, of course, for…
“You don’t mean…”
“We do. The Holy Emperor of the Empire.”

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