[Original Novel] Pariah of the Little People, Part 25

in #writing7 years ago


source
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24

I was jarred out of my inward exploration by the distant sound of thunder. As there were no clouds in the sky I knew it couldn’t be, and set off in the direction of the earth shaking commotion to investigate. It died down long before I found the source. Instead I emerged from the brush onto the rim of the quarry, frozen in my tracks by the sight before me.

Tyrants. Hundreds of them by the looks of it. Pouring, climbing, tumbling down the rocks towards the settlement below. Reflexively I reached behind my head and flipped the chrome mask into place, remembering Katerinka’s warning about shielding my eyes from the Tyrants’ gaze.

There she sat, in a high branch of a tree overlooking the conflagration. Lazily reading from her dusty old book without a care in the world. I shouted to her, but if she could hear me over the battle she gave no indication of it. A Tyrant reached the bottom of the rocky slope and was set upon by a team of brown robes in spider like windup exoskeletons.

Built for climbing, not for fighting, they were quickly seized and torn apart. Their pilots did not, save for one, manage to unbuckle themselves quickly enough to escape the greedy little monster’s jaws. A second Tyrant reached the bottom, and the pair made short work of the remaining mechanized climbers.

Those equipped with flight packs fared considerably better. The stubby little Tyrants swung their stick thin limbs about in a frantic attempt to swat the graceful winged soldiers out of the air, managing to down only one in that fashion, losing their sight in the process. The almost insect or fairy-like figures, zipping about in formation, released spring loaded harpoons into the Tyrants’ immense globular eyes.

Blood sprayed out, soaking into the sand wherever it fell as the monsters clutched their faces and screeched in agony. Blinded but not yet defeated, they stumbled about thrashing their limbs and jaws in a fury, trampling a number of soldiers attacking on foot as they did so. Then, one of them sprayed a fuming, noxious liquid from its tongue.

The blast coated a battalion of brown robes who, a second later, writhed on the sand as the acid ate away their flesh. I’d never seen a Tyrant do that until now. Have they learned to…? In confirmation of my fears, a flock of winged Tyrants flew overhead, batlike wings beating at the air in time as they approached the central dome.

Brown robes, green robes, and red robes encircled the dome with all manner of gun emplacements and other fierce weapons. Red robes? I squinted. My eyes hadn’t deceived me after all. So recently mortal enemies of the browns and greens, the red robes now fought proudly by their side. Glimpsing the flickering screen through the hole in the dome, I could guess how that happened.

In spite of it all, the horror of the Tyrants’ sudden reappearance, I could’ve cried tears of joy. This is what I’d been trying so hard to achieve. Right here, playing out before me. Unity! Brotherhood! An alliance of the crone’s cherished children against the enemy they shared from the start.

A dozen Tyrants had now reached the bottom of the rocky slope, with more descending behind them. The segmented ore carriers opened their payload bays to reveal artillery cannons, dormant until the need for them arose. Muffled pops signified a hail of shells which reduced five of the Tyrants to tangled piles of viscera and wounded the rest.

Four more Tyrants reached the bottom and reinforced the survivors. The air was now thick with both winged Tyrants and brown robes wearing flight packs. Here and there a winged Tyrant would seize a flying brown robe from the air and crush it, or gobble it down. But just as frequently six to ten flying brown robes would swarm a single winged Tyrant, slashing its arteries with their jagged little knives.

A winged Tyrant, severely lacerated and bleeding out, collided with the tree next to me. As it lay on the ground, before it could recover I stomped it until its guts burst out of its sides. A number of Tyrants below were now converging on the segmented ore carriers, identifying them as the primary threat.

One of them couldn’t have toppled it. But six managed with relative ease. The ungainly sand crawler’s wheels spinning uselessly above it, the Tyrants proceeded to pry open hatches, pluck the occupants from inside and eat them alive. That’s when the mechanized scorpion made its appearance.

The sand nearby shuffled, rose in a mound, then parted to reveal the familiar machine. As I studied it I noticed new additions. Black shiny rods, smaller versions of the one in the center of the settlement, now tipped each of the six legs in addition to the one on the end of its tail.

Before I could wonder why, it sunk its legs into the sand, and began to imperceptibly vibrate. I could feel it through the ground even from this distance. No change was visible until sand began to rise up, enveloping the legs, then the body and tail of the robot. Shaping itself into sections of an armored carapace.

I laughed and clapped, blown away by their ingenuity. Each time a Tyrant attacked the scorpion, damaging some portion of its armor, more sand was drawn up through the legs by vibration to repair the holes. Healing its magnificent silicon armor so rapidly, there was no opportunity to deal any damage to the machine underneath.

Not without a price, though. As I watched, I could see the scorpion gradually slowing down. Sand becoming caught in its joints, grinding them up from within. The vibration wasn’t helping either. I saw more than one bolt come loose, left behind in the sand as the insectoid fighting machine trudged onwards.

Now set upon by six Tyrants, it seemed outmatched. With their crude little axes, cudgels and swords, they hacked at the robot’s legs until they began to come loose. That’s when the tail struck. Thrusting its stinger deep into the torso of the nearest Tyrant, the black rod on the tip vibrated at a higher and higher frequency, until the Tyrant simply exploded in a cloud of sticky pink mist.

The others backed away, stunned. Not far enough though. It again thrust its stinger, too swiftly to dodge, into the chest of a nearby Tyrant. It screeched in fear and struggled to dislodge the tip, but a moment later it burst abruptly into a humid cloud of vaporized gore like the other before it.

Scanning the quarry, for the first time I noticed the absence of the missile. The odd tower of stacked cans was nowhere to be seen! The pad they built it on was still there, now blackened with a huge radial scorch mark. The skeletal metal tower still stood to one side, as did the chemical refinery nearby. But no sign of the cans.

Had they already used it? Would I visit the lake only to find an irradiated wasteland? Competing anxieties jockeyed for dominance within me as the battle continued to unfold. The winged Tyrants were on the run, but the action down in the quarry was far from over. Tyrants, now numbering perhaps thirty, converged on the central dome.

The ring of guns around it blazed relentlessly, but for every Tyrant struck down this way, two more replaced it. “Katerinka!” I shouted. “What are you doing!? Help them!” She only continued to read, leg dangling from the branch, indifferent to the events taking place below. Why? Why would she do this? I wracked my brain but came back empty handed.

The chemical plant exploded in a brilliant fireball, Tyrants and Homunculi alike thrown back by the blast. The fire quickly spread as flaming fuel rained down around them. Wave after wave, Tyrants advanced towards the central dome. The mechanized scorpion now unable to move, sand clogging its joints, vibration working it apart at the seams.

It lashed out again and again with its tail, perhaps hoping to take out a few more Tyrants even while stationary. Instead, one of the stout, sickly looking monsters seized the stinger and plunged it into the mechanical scorpion’s own body. It rang like a bell, vibrations dissolving the sand armor completely before splitting open the metal chassis beneath it in a shower of sparks and flame.

All this time I’d been spectating under the assumption that they’d win. After all, I led their ancestors to victory many times before. Over the last few weeks I’d witnessed their military prowess against one another, imagining that Tyrants were now the least of their worries.

But the Tyrants just kept coming. Wave after wave after wave. Crawling, hissing, biting, clawing. Clammy, pale little bodies surging together in unison, an unstoppable mass of wicked flesh. It dawned on me then that the Tyrants were going to triumph. Just by sheer numbers. They’d already overwhelmed all but the last line of defense.

Bombardier beetles, ridden by red robes, blasted incendiary fluid into the faces of the nearest Tyrants. It erupted into flame wherever it struck them, sending them into desperate fits of smacking at their faces and bodies trying to put it out. Some succeeded, but most only accelerated the conflagration until they collapsed in flames, flesh blistering and turning black.

Much too late, the brown robes tried to raise the protective dome. The familiar throb of the resonance device could again be felt through my feet, and the edges of the dome began to rise. Not nearly fast enough. By the time it was tall enough to exclude most of the Tyrants, one had already made it inside. All they’d managed was to trap themselves with it in darkness.

Just then I heard a terrified howl. Whirling about in search of the source, I spotted Mr. MacGufferson surrounded by Tyrants. My heart leapt into my throat. No, I thought. No, no, no. Not again.

Fear paralyzed me. However I tried to throw myself towards the fragile old cat, my legs wouldn’t respond. I teared up, muttering frantically to myself as I watched the vile little creatures preparing to draw and quarter their prey.

Something in me snapped. Just like that I was off like a bullet, legs pumping, heart pounding so hard it threatened to explode within me. “NO!!” I shouted, “NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN!!” I kicked the first Tyrant as hard as I could. It came apart in a spray of blood and ejected organs. The rest swarmed me, but wherever they came within reach I seized and crushed their bodies with my bare hands.

One sunk its sharp little teeth deep into my hand, next to the scar from the last time. I forced my fingers between its jaws and pulled them apart until I heard bone splinter. Blood now gushed from the bite wound but I was blind to pain. Blind to my memories, to anything but murderous rage.

The creature’s broken jaw flopped about as I gripped its bulbous head and torso in either hand, then twisted and pulled as though opening a jar. The head came loose and took the spine with it, gore spilling out of the limp little body as I wrenched the two pieces apart. I threw the remains to either side, carefully scooped up Mr. MacGufferson, then ran as I never have before or since.

Through panicked tears, the still breathing but injured animal clutched tightly to my chest as I fled, I whispered to it “They got Winston, but I won’t let them get you.” Trees whipped past, sounds of war receding into the distance as I bounded over fallen logs. It all smeared together as the tears blurred my vision. I only stopped running when I physically couldn’t make my legs do it anymore.

My chest heaved, breathing still erratic. It took several minutes for it to normalize, to where I could gather my thoughts enough to inspect Mr. MacGufferson for injury. His eyes were closed. I could feel him breathing, as well as weakly purring. But he wouldn’t move. “Not you too” I blubbered through the tears. Begging, pleading with him to survive.

They take everything you’re not powerful enough to defend. No shred of mercy, no negotiation. If you can’t protect it, no matter how much you love it, it’s gone. If only I were stronger. If only I’d reacted faster. Done the right thing at the crucial moment. I felt a small, delicate hand on my shoulder.

When I turned to see Katerinka through eyes drenched with tears, I fired off a million angry questions. Why hadn’t she done anything? Why did she let it all happen? How could she? For her part she ignored the barrage, circled around and sat opposite me. Over my protestations, she took the limp cat from my arms and laid it out between us.

Opening her great dusty book to a page of particular interest, she withdrew a vial of powder I recognized as a medicine I once saw the little fellows prepare for Winston. She felt around on the cat’s body, taking notice of which spots caused it to twitch when pressed. Then she rubbed powder into those spots while chanting some incomprehensible mantra in a deep, guttural pitch.

I heard muffled pops behind me, reports from distant explosions. I tried to warn Katerinka but was hushed. “Remain silent. Is difficult spell.” So I did, watching breathlessly as she ran her hand over the wounded animal’s disheveled grey fur. Over and over she stroked it, at times adding more powder. Finally, she withdrew a small jeweled bottle of what looked like water.

The lid turned out to be an eyedropper, with which she deposited a single drop of the liquid at the corner of Mr. MacGufferson’s mouth. We sat in silence. Minutes passed. Fear grew within me that I’d failed Tyler. Like I’d failed Winston, Jennifer, the crone and myself. I trembled uncontrollably. Begging the gangly, lifeless form to move by even the smallest amount.

Katerinka took my hand in hers. It was ice cold, yet comforting. Tears fell freely now, soaking into my muddy pant legs. “It can’t happen like this” I whispered. “Not twice. I won’t survive it. Please.” The cat just lay there, no longer breathing. I stood as if to leave. Katerinka seized my arm, pulled me in and we embraced.

She had nothing to say. Just clung tightly to me, arms around my midsection as I clung to her. My teardrops now falling on her white, curly locks of hair draped over my shoulder. That’s when I felt something warm and rumbly wrapping itself around my leg. I withdrew from Kat and looked at my feet. There was Mister MacGufferson, purring up a storm and rubbing himself against my ankle.


Stay Tuned for Part 26!

Sort:  
Loading...

Nicely done, I thought for a minute that he was going to lose Mister MacGufferson, nice that he did not.

Apropos of nothing, in my mind, Katerinka looks and sounds like Helena from Orphan Black. Very glad she managed to bring back Mister MacGufferson.

Good writing alex.Not only this one, you all writings are too good.

Coin Marketplace

STEEM 0.18
TRX 0.15
JST 0.028
BTC 62928.79
ETH 2465.26
USDT 1.00
SBD 2.55