Velin The Lothorian
Book 1, The Rifle's Song
Index:
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9
Chapter 7
Metal spirit
Velin and Reia stood before a crumbled heap of ancient concrete, stone, and metal. This was a tunnel entrance and as a reward for exploring it, he and Reia might obtain a mech. Of course, that was the best case scenario since the two had to discover said machine first.
The Loresinger knew one fragmented song about some long-dead resistance group, which used these tunnels as a base. According to this tale, the freedom fighters could strike from ambush and then vanish without a trace.
Velin thought long about how to forge yet another advantage for the Oasis’ defenders, but was forced to put his idea on the back burner. The underground irrigation tunnel network had exits all around these hills, yet was nigh impossible to be safely utilized without a proper map. There was also the issue of said tunnels’ current inhabitants.
No one knew exactly what terrors conquered these tunnels, for it had been centuries since any Avern’a made use of them. Sam’s small band of “leftovers” hid in one, but they only achieved that with Teal Death’s assistance. Velin and Reia were forewarned – The Cowled one told them of olden things, lurking in the dark. Yet, despite what manner of vile denizens preyed in the deep, it was now their mission to descent there.
Legend claimed this long-dead resistance cell operated one of the fabled Avern’a tactical mechs.
Reia’s brother, Cull, was currently being tutored by the Mage. Physically recovered from his many ordeals, the young man was walking the way to mental empowerment. Gifted a lot of quality gear by Teal Death, Cull completed one rigorous training regimen after another, and was fast turning into a resolute guardian.
Child soldiers from Reia’s home shelter learned how to operate mecha with the aid of another item. The olden relic was an instruction manual, voice-forged from white metallic alloy. Cull’s knowledge and mecha pilot skills were basic, yet these stalwart, clad in gold and silver-colored armor-plating machines, accepted only Avern’a as their pilots.
Indeed, there were many locals living in the Oasis, yet this fourteen year old was their one and only trained pilot.
The Cowled one was sure that between his magicks and Sam’s repair skills, they could fix even an olden Avern’a mech. Therefore, to ensure the safety of all who lived within the Oasis, Reia’s brother was to pilot this ancient machine into battle. While fighting off a road bandit assault, this tactical armor would definitely push the scales in favor of the Oasis’ defenders.
“I can see a safe spot we could easily crawl through.” – Pointed Reia and looked at Velin, a warm smile on her face.
“Sam said that he will be here in two days with my brother to transport the mech. I just hope the ‘nasties’ leave us in peace... at least for a few star-days.”
Velin allowed himself to swim in her eyes, a roguish smirk growing on his cleanly shaven face.
The meeting they’ve had last night was productive, to say the least. Everything he wished to convey, the man did and more; Lothorians did not waste time when matters of the soul and heart were concerned. Neither did the Terr’aans, yet Velin had the profound feeling that he was to be starved out or even denied happiness.
In a universe where all sorts of debased aliens were out to profit from your flesh, where ancient soul-drinking monsters prowled, and greedy invaders aimed to steal everything you shed blood and tears to build, one must not let even a single star-second of life go to waste. Moreover, soul-scoured Velin suffered long years of abysmal torment and torturous, back breaking toil.
The very thought of time-waste was abhorrent to him.
“I promise you, my Loresinger, we will take every precaution. As far as these ‘nasties’ are concerned,” – and he tapped his no longer empty holster – “I trust in my aim and ancient Avern’a voice-forging.”
“And I trust you, my Soldier.” – Stated Reia and held his hand, eyes focused on his face.
“The Avernum call nasties all who pillage what is left of our homeworld. The things inside... they are entirely another matter altogether. My teacher gave me two Terr’aan-made carbines, and I picked up the particle-beam one for this darkly quest of ours.”
Reia looked deep inside his eyes, obviously searching for or trying to confirm something. It took her a few, long seconds to do so and then her smile grew even wider.
“Yesterday you told me of your most prized fear. I know it all too well perhaps, for this is our reality, the inevitable pain of my kin. Had it not been for my teacher, I’d now be some degenerate’s plaything or worse... an experiment in a Vaugn laboratory.”
“I shared my deepest terror, so you know the lengths to which a free Lothorian like myself would go, in order to prevent the subjugation of his progeny. It is very true what the Terr’aans say, that death is a much preferable alternative to slavery. Our would-be enslaver’s or... ours.”
She nodded, her eyes glossing over Velin’s encased in an armored cover copy of the Terr’aan Morale Officer handbook.
“Let us hope and fight as hard as we can, thus our offspring enjoys a free future.” – The Avern’a avowed her heartfelt wish.
Nodding in complete agreement, smiling Velin gently caressed her face with his glove-less hand.
“I swear in my reforged shackles it will be so, my Loresinger.”
Reia shared her darkest fright soon after hearing the story of his harrowing youth. The young maiden was constantly terrorized by the thought that she couldn’t deliver her loved ones from pain. Plagued by unrelenting nightmares to such an extent, that she was willing to outright sacrifice herself, but save them from death’s bony grasp.
Velin made a silent oath that he would help his Loresinger crush that terror of hers, and then reforge it into one proper Terr’aan armament of the mind. Because character growth was a life-saving process and many times greater than a simple change.
They allowed themselves a full minute for their eyes to feast upon each other, before climbing up the rubble and then fast descending into darkness.
* * *
The soldier’s flashlight valiantly battled this deep and uncertain darkness, successfully illuminating Velin’s way. His new sidearm followed the beam, finger ready to pull the trigger. The Lothorian had stashed a number of spares in his backpack, just in case the ancient power packs weren’t enough. Unless the ‘nasties’ were also prowling in these surprisingly wide and tall tunnels, Velin would not need his railgun, nor the two grenades he carried.
Reia skulked behind him, a Terr’aan-made particle-beam carbine in her hands. This weapon was not a mere copy of Taz’aran mass-produced guns, but designed and crafted from scratch. It was a high-powered, efficient beam rifle, which sported a comfortable, collapsible stock.
Like many other Human armaments of peace, this too was fitted with a universal power pack port. The capability to immediately use scavenged enemy ammunition in the field, was what made such weapons truly versatile. Deadly beyond measure in the hands of experienced freedom fighters and militia.
This otherwise long-abandoned tunnel network displayed signs of recent use. Velin noticed a small number of boot imprints, whose three, light on their feet owners, were probably on a reconnaissance mission of their own. No one expected they would be the only people eager to uncover the tunnels’ olden secrets, and acquire precious tech.
Velin gave Reia a sign to stop and guard his back, while he studied the tracks in detail. The Lothorian carefully measured how deep they’d sunk into the dried out dirt. Oftentimes the simplest of cues could help uncover more, and important information about those who left the trail. Velin might not be some master of tracking, but he had a keen eye and a lively mind. Many times he caught sight of clues which others had missed.
Part of his training was studying various alien combat gear, army boots included. It didn’t take long for his eye to pick enough detail for him to make a conclusion. This was Taz’aran issue boot, given to field scouts and mostly used to outfit special ops groups like the Beige Teams.
He immediately gave new sign commands to Reia and both proceeded forward with extreme caution.
An hour later, the ray of his flashlight bumped into one mummified cadaver and soon, two more. The team was indeed outfitted with Taz’aran gear, wore scout issue boots and now defunct TOC stealth units. Their bodies looked like they were drained out of life; the bones underneath charred and blackish, brittle to the touch.
It was more than evident that something got them, yet not without a fight. There were a number of slagged power packs rolling in the dirt around these scouts. They’d fought their deadly stalker hard and to the last shot, proving what Velin’s teachers said about the Taz’aran race. That they had more than their fair share of wimps and losers, but those of quality were truly a dreaded foe.
“The Unlife roams these halls.” – Whispered Reia, carbine shaking in her hands.
“Then I will make it so they roam no more.” – Quietly stated Velin and placed his free hand on her shoulder.
Skulking in the shadows, hiding from a ghostly foe, which could sniff your very life force with ease, was useless. Reia now stood one step behind and on the left of Velin. The maiden still covered his rear, but was ready to swiftly fire on the flank or forth with the carbine.
“My teacher said that he gifted you with sight of the Glow.”
“I felt his magicks flow through me, the day we met.” – Said Velin and noticed that her body was no longer quaking.
“This means your eyes and mind are now empowered to witness things which others need tech to perceive. Know this; great they may be, my teacher’s powers are not without end... or limit.” – The Loresinger informed him, her demeanor much calmer than before.
“It is a gift most holy for a soldier to see his enemy. Sight of the unhallowed shall enable their doom, lest they skulk from me in far away places.”
Reia sighed in the dark and after they left the gloomy death site behind, mentioned:
“Through the Link I am able to connect with those of Avern’a, who chose to linger with the intent to aid us. Had any of them still remain here, in these curst tunnels...”
“The Unlife entities are strong and although not of the flesh, still, they can be unmade.” – Velin was quick to reassure Reia.
They walked further in silence; their fingers on the trigger and way illuminated by Velin’s flashlight.
Indeed, the tunnel network was an achievement most grand. Velin noticed more and intricate details, hundreds of elaborate etchings, which covered what was otherwise a underground irrigation tunnel. These murals appeared to be of lesser quality than those he saw in the Mausoleum, but still beautiful to behold.
These glowed when touched by photons from his flashlight, depicting various technicalities, instructions for workers or safety information. Along the way, his eye glimpsed the crumpled ancient remains of Avern’a.
Dressed in brittle combat gear, these heroes had long since fallen. Some died battling the invader, others succumbed to their wounds or were ravaged by hunger. Velin dutifully counted every little mound of dirt and broken bones, and in his mind, paid respects to these fellow soldiers.
Minutes after he and Reia passed through this improvised graveyard, tiny golden lights afloat from the ground and slowly followed in their wake.
Hours passed and the living found their way deeper into the tunnel network. They bypassed broken, age old traps, crawled under or climbed over piles of debris, discovered many more armed cadavers.
What was once just a fragment of a song, Reia now witnessed with her own two eyes. The demise of that resistance cell, whose brave warriors fought the Jaern advance into these hills to a standstill. Before they were discovered and the tunnels assaulted by the invader, the mech fought too.
There were remnants of Jaern all over; together with Avern’a they lay dead where beam or blade found them. More, Velin and Reia counted a number of blasted apart power armors, and, right before the last tunnel split in two, the debris of a full size tactical mech. To follow where the Avern’a machine went after her pilot fought the enemy was easy. The trail still remained, even after so many centuries one could see its large footsteps.
The tracks ended within the tunnel network’s innermost water distribution hall. There, at its center, where the ancient architects computed and the skilled workers crafted it, stood a tall machine. Armor molten and frame ravaged by enemy fire, nevertheless the marvelous mech appeared in much better a condition Reia assumed.
Most intact tunnels had been blocked by debris and in Velin’s mind, quite salvageable. He could even catch a glimpse of one barely glowing mural in the distance, which appeared to be a full map of the network. What rolled before his boots, however, took Velin’s undivided attention for the time being.
Hundreds of mangled, dressed in armor skeletal remains littered the floor. Many Avern’a, but the bulk of them were the Jaern, who kept attacking and died in their hundreds. However, for the invader to not recover so many of their underlings and, by that matter, the prized mech as a trophy, something extraordinary had to have occurred.
Laying some feet away from the mech, there was another, smaller Jaern corpse. If he was not mistaken, after focusing his flashlight and examining its trappings, this appeared to be the cadaver of a Soul Huntress. The debased wretch was perhaps in command of this Jaern troop, which could explain the cannibals’ overzealous attitude.
While Velin scoured the grisly battlefield further, he noticed the light rays of his flashlight wavered. Then, an otherworldly wind howled out of nowhere and the light bent, flickered, as if someone’s breath snuffed out a candle. Hundreds of screeches and wallows echoed in his ears, the choir of clashing vibroblades and the hiss of beams accompanying them.
Those who died here, their apparitions were locked in a battle still!
Many Jaern warriors, all of their mangled, warped by deathly wounds bodies now stood between Velin, Reia, and the olden mech. There, at the center of this ghostly horror, a child-like shape battled the darkest and largest of wraiths. Locked in eternal battle, there would be no ascension for these honorable Avern’a warriors, until allies join the fray and tip the balance in their favor.
The Loresinger had to merely look in her Soldier’s eyes to understand his intent. Breathing as much air in her lungs as possible, she shouted:
“Warriors of Avern’a, thou who guard our soil and race in death still, rejoice! I am one of your daughters and with me cometh a mighty ally, a Soldier unrelenting. The living shall joineth the ranks of those who are about to ascend, and in glorious battle, vanquish the invader forevermore!”
Velin, his aim true, pulled the trigger of his newly-acquired Avern’a pistol. The ancient weapon unleashed one beam of encased in golden particles, white light. It hit without fail the nearest Jaern apparition and, with a horrid scream, the vile thing vanished into thin air.
“Die a second death, invader!” – Velin roared, his happy yell carried far and wide, effortlessly piercing through the cacophony of ghostly slaughter.
The entire battle halted for but a single star-second, shouts of confusion bellowed by the Jaern, as elated battle cries left the Avern’a’s ghostly throats.
Charging forwards and shooting whenever he had the chance, Velin was closely followed by Reia, whose Terr’aan beam carbine severely scoured the vile-looking Jaern ghosts. Squirm they did and then, vanquished by this hallowed Terr’aan gun, disappeared into nothingness. A true warrior the maiden was not, yet what her tutor grew her into was a freedom fighter. One who rejoiced in the doom of any invader, be they living or dead, and whose newly-acquired resolve could not be easily swayed.
Two the living were, yet their presence invigorated the ancient freedom fighters, quickly changing the otherwise forlorn tides of battle.
Firing on the run, the reinforcements forged for themselves a path straight through the ghastly enemy. Avern’a apparitions finally managed to fell their opponents, those whom they’d been locked in an unending battle with for centuries. Hit by Velin’s pistol, many a dozen Jaern ghosts vanished, freeing a number of the freedom fighters to slay more and more invaders.
Though he used up most of his power packs, lest one, when a white beam hit, even the strongest and most vile-looking ghosts departed the middle realm forevermore.
Once Velin reached the olden hall’s center and stood before the wraith, he felt it emanated an aura of nigh overpowering death. Reia, now covering the Rifleman’s back, send her mind plea, asking the Link for a boon. Once, she was able to achieve a great feat of concentration and contact many of the recently departed, yet this time, it was different.
There had to be more lingering souls, ancient warriors and others who could not ascend, because of this powerful haunting here. This required all of her focus and was perhaps too much for her mind to do, but she did try.
As swarms of hundreds of golden lights descended upon this hall, coming straight from the walls, Reia unleashed a painful scream. The wraith of the Soul Huntress had expanded her chilling, death delivering aura.
Velin, a most stalwart man himself, staggered aback, pistol loaded with his last power pack. Hand steady, he was still aiming for the dark figure, even though blood was dripping from his mouth.
Their opponent need not speak, nor deliver brutish threats, for her entire ghastly being radiated otherworldly doom. The Lothorian knew that one single action was needed and her opponent, the mech’s pilot, would finally prevail. Had he had the ability to draw breath in his ripped lungs, he’d hurl an indignant shout at the wraith. A simple, scorn-filled smile would suffice... this time.
Iron will prevailed over the pains of a wounded body. Velin pushed the pistol’s thumb trigger; he knew there was only enough strength left.
It was not a simple white beam that left the barrel, but a golden, star-shaped bolt.
Hit by this overcharged, shade smiting power, it was beyond the wraith’s ability to counter her foe and so, she was ripped to shreds. The glowing spirit finally bested his ancient enemy and, with a triumphant cry, merged with the towering mech.
The living, however, were left barely alive, bleeding from their wounds. Laying on the ancient floors, their aching bodies were surrounded by a wall of grateful Avern’a spirits...
* * *
You can find The Rifle’s Song and the second novella, Velin And The Bunker Of Death here.