He stood atop the very spot where Drick and Grodeg were butchered. Not as elf or dwarf each lost within their own world, instead they stood and died together as brothers. United against hate, they fought as one, denying evil the complete enslavement of sentience.

  “I will tell your story in the words of the mother Grodeg, brother to my good and trusted friend Frodeg, I am sorry to have never met you. She will also sing praises to you Har Karoome, Drick, son of Diedrick for never was there more nobility displayed within the legacy of the Karoome. You were gallant in all that you did as a warrior and as a man, it would be a crime for the world not to hear your tale. Rest easy sons of the creator, there is nothing for you to regret.

  He didn’t understand all that he saw but he did understand how much she valued life, and to have so much blood spilled was a dagger in her heart. Her song of lament began and Tic let it carry his thoughts away. For the close to three hundred square miles that was Riverhouse people bowed their heads and felt the pains of loss. For what could have been day’s they heard her sweet tones feeling the fears and woes of each who were lost. Every man and woman who took one more step forward, when there nothing before them but death had a verse for no lost was more than another and all died as one race, one species against all that would destroy they stood as one people.

  He walked out into the field and saw the bones of the fallen lancers some still upon their chargers laying in a gross parody of motion. Piners bodies laying in giant heaps among their dwarven comrades. He was beginning to understand how many lives were shattered by this travesty if understanding could truly be had. A hundred feet away and he saw something sticking up from the body of a Piner. It almost glowed in the noon day sun causing him to let out a desperate, gasping sob. One of the first safety toes he and Tia had ever created, was… he couldn’t. He wanted to leave this place but… he walked over to the body and looked down into the familiar face, letting his tears rain on to the corpse of Bjorn. There were more with him that Tic remembered from Tekundralokai and he wept for each one, falling to his knees and for the first time ever, saying a prayer to her.

  She fell silent as foot steps appraoched.

  “So you have won a battle young man, congratulations are in order.” A voice from nowhere caused Tic to jump to his feet and spin around with his staff ready. It was a man, not very tall nor very short wearing a green button down top coat that stretched over his belly to beneath his knees where extensively baggy bright orange trousers peaked out above sack like shoes. He wasn’t tall nor short but he definitely was portly, the type of portly that displayed very little neck for his round head ringed with gray hair to sit. His cheeks and jowls jumped and jiggled as he spoke.

  “I wish that it had been a game or a contest sir, then we would not have lost so much,” Tic said studying the man. “Excuse me, but have we met before?”

  “We have, though I wore not this form.” His voice echoed within his jowls, pompus and airy.

  “Though I wore not this form?” Tic repeated questioningly taking an instant dislike for the man. “How… cryptic. So tell me who it is that comes on to a field filled with the recently dead, bearing such a light heart?”

  “Quit with the sanctimony young man. It wouldn’t have been like this if I would have let the witch take you back in Lemure.” He said and paused so Tic could get the reference. He did.

  “Do you have a name?” Realizing where he had seen this face before.

  “Many.”

  “I know you, what do you want?” Tic said remembering the face in the bushes when he first met Dyanna right after his graduation. Strangely, he felt no fear, but he did ready himself for a fight.

  “What I have always wanted Mattic.” He replied using Tic’s full name.

  “I have no time for games even if you did come here in the flesh.”

  “The flesh? Ha, ha, ha, no… I am not flesh.” The man froze, his face going slack before he collapsed causing Tic to jump out of his way. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, then the voice in a different pitch and tone spun him around to see the face again but not part of a hedge or a portly man. There, within the bark patterns of a Jack pine the lips moved to form words.

  “I am not of a substance that you could call flesh young man, nor am I of a… substance that you could recognize.”

  “I am tired, and have much to do today. Speak your mind and tell me what you want, or be gone.”

  “What I want?” The voice was now deep, resonant and coming from the body of his friend he met up on Tekundralokai. Tic jumped back as Bjorn struggled to rise upon legs stiffened in death, the killing wound on his head exposing bone and gray matter his left arm… gone.

  “What I want is to end your path, it is naught but a vicious cycle, the path of carnage and destruction, the path that led to the breaking and the path that you are once again setting us upon.”

  “I have set us upon no path old man if it is that which you be.” Tic replied, surprising himself with his lack of fear.

  “You are a pittance, here for the moment but ‘what’ you are has plagued the world since time immemorial. It is the evil that is you that I fight.”

  “Me, evil? You who want to destroy everyone but one species calling me evil, that is rich.” Tic replied truly curious how this taint could justify calling Tic evil. Bjorn looked frustrated for a second before responding.

  Language is so limiting, the word evil is not enough to describe the enormity of what you are. I only need one to rebuild what you destroy and in the process destroy the path that you have set us upon.”

  “So kill me and be done with it.” Tic said defiantly.

  In two quick steps Bjorn was in front of him and two massive hands clamped down on the sides of Tic’s head immobilizing him, the piner’s cold blue eyes freezing him within a shell of familiarity. He knew this man, liked this man… he could not…

  A bright white filled his brain and his knees jellied but Bjorn held on, guiding him to lay on his side atop the two-day-old corpses, the mother mysteriously silent.

  Thank you for reading

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  Please continue for a preview of Cataclysm II (untitled)

  Me. Joseph Hansen a.k.a. H.J. Harry, author of – Sonny; Splinter, Wayward Son, Zombie Rush (4 book series), Five Roads to Texas (a Phalanx Press collaborative series.)

  Allen Gamboa

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  Cataclysm II: Untitled

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  A sample of Book II in the series…

  Riverhouse was a buzz of activity as those who remained worked to clean up the aftermath. Though grateful, the people asked the aerials to stick to lighter duty. The stigma of the race being baby killers and eaters of sentient’s three hundred years prior too much for the people to handle all at once. Ramita and her close friend Falco found some free time and wandered into one of the shops that still had their windows unbroken and looked to be in good repair. Four women were in there cleaning up debris that had been strewn everywhere when the foul folk had ransacked it, the stench still slightly evident from their disgusting presence. A younger woman with a mop and bucket scrubbed at walls and floors using a bleaching agent provided by the tannery mixing an antiseptic hint to the air.

  A gnome woman looked up and gasped in surprise at seeing the two aerials in her shop.

  “I’m sorry, this is a bad time. We will come back another day,” Ramita stammered and turned to go.

  “No, wait. Don’t go, I was just a little startled is all. We’re still not used to seeing aerials walking about. Please, what can I help you with?”

  “Ah, um…clothing.” Ramita said more than a little embarrassed that her comment would draw attention to her own ragged wear.

  “We have been much too long from a seamstress as you can see,” Falco pushed on bravely. “We are unsure what the fashions of the day are and if you can help us seeing as how we have rather a unique body type.”

  “Help you?” a dwarf woman said from behind a counter. “Of course we can help you, as far as styles go you are aerials and will set the new tone for fashion.”

  “Really?” Ramita said skeptically.

  “But of course,” the gnome woman spoke. “You are the heroes of Riverhouse, it will be our pleasure to assist you. Now step in here so we can get some measurements, it will take a couple of days, but we will get you in something comfortable to wear until they are done. Julius, fire up the baths and pour some wine for our new customers,” the woman said and the pampering began, shopping in Riverhouse was like nothing they had expected. They had heard stories of the baths in the past

  * * *

  Juin walked into the infirmary saddened to see his sister unconscious in the bed. He didn’t even notice the aerial until he spoke.

  “Prince Juin, I presume?” His head popped up and he had to stifle his initial reaction to draw his sword. They had been enemies for so long that this was a new normal for him.

  “I am,” Juin said in more of a challenge than an acceptance of title.

  “I am Nigel, your sister and I are friends of a sort.”

  “Nigel, King Nigel?”

  “Ah, so they tell me, yes.”

  “What sort of friend are you to my sister?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing more than traveling companions, I assure you. So I take it you have come to try and speak to her before you depart?” Nigel moved the conversation forward.

  “Yes, but that doesn’t look like it will be possible.”

  “No, not right now anyways. I will be happy to pass along any message that you may have for her when she does wake.”

  “Will she wake?”

  “I have been assured that she will. Are you prepared for what is happening up in Lilieack?”

  “No, but I have to go and do my part. Unfortunately, we won’t have any of your kind up there to help,” Juin said regretfully.

  “It might surprise you to know that I do have people up there working with your father on aerial reconnaissance. There is also a flock of aerials preparing to join in the battle, sadly they are not a part of my flock. When they fly, we too will fly, but I don’t know what kind of help that will be for you.”

  “You mean that you would fight your own people?” Juin inquired suspiciously.

  “This peace that I am hammering out of nothing is very fragile at the moment, Prince Juin. I would not see it dissolved over the wills of old minds and pathetic allegiances. If we fight other aerials it will be with the intent of making the lives of all aerials better. Too long have we been cut off from the other races and my people have paid the price. It is time for us to come back into the fold as equals.”

  Juin thought about this for several long moments then simply held out his hand to the king of the aerials.

  Their hands clasped in what if done publically would have hailed trumpets to sound and songs to be sang. Here in a hospital room with no one else to see, this somewhat insignificant gesture carried the weight of thousands of lives who depended on it.

  Yet it may never be known to have occurred; such is the world, that fates of men are determined by few in the most unlikely of places.

  * * *

  “Is he alive?” A gruff voice was heard within the thick fog that might still be a mind.

  “Aye, but just barely.” It seemed like hours before anything else attracted his hazy attentions. It must have only been minutes or possibly only seconds before he felt himself being lifted gently up and on to a cart. He didn’t feel it move or know whether he was pulled by man or beast, he only knew that he was suddenly warm and comfortable.

  Giant missiles of steel with immobile wings screamed through the air reaching destinations before the sounds of passage heard. He knew these beasts carried men… were controlled by men. They destroyed entire villages within minutes without seeing a single drop of blood without feeling the jarring of bone as a blade passed through flesh. Giant bombs decimating entire cities while melting the flesh off people miles distant as giant hovering craft spat steel into those who fight or flee.

  Pointless devastation devoid of reason for the purpose of greed and the machinations of those who believe themselves above reproach, justified hate… hate in a can.

  His dreams altered and he saw Riverhouse as well as his shop and how it looked today. He saw the same river four hundred years prior, witnessing the pristine beauty of the river flowing along the side of a gently sloped bluff and exposed to the natural world. Then it was back the present as he and his sister worked the new innovations to their business as well as other business along the river. The tannery that developed dyes and chemicals to work leather, the weaver with their newly developed looms, the dwarves as they marvel at the possibilities of air compressed with steam.

  Then he stood in an open field looking upon a vista that could have never existed, gentle slopes allowing a man to see for several miles in all directions all of it the amber hues of ripened wheat and he was stunned. There had to be enough right here to feed the entire world he marveled in his semi-comatose state.

  He was standing next to a wall of ice with a mass of wholly mammoths whose tusks dwarfed the mammoths of current day, a pack of dire wolves howling upon on a distant rise waiting for a sick or young to stray away from the heard. The land was young and the air fresh and crisp. There was an icy blue lake surrounded by young pines not a hundred yards from where he stood where he could see martins or otters fishing. He breathed in deeply through his nose when his mind went black.

  “You see now what I fight, what I loathe. What you are is the evil that I must destroy.”

  Tic eyes opened.

  “No matter how hard you try, you will never get me drunk Aerial, I am an elf.” Leldeif said confidently as they toasted one another once again.

  “I am well aware of the unique capabilities of an elf my friend, remember that you were our slaves for thousands of years.”

  “Yeah, I recommend that you quit bringing that subject up.” Leldeif replied as Tia and Falco chuckled and Ramita trying not to spit out her whisky as she stifled a laugh. Asking Nigel to stop being inappropriate was nigh on impossible.

  “Yeah, probably. I only bring it up now in conversation to make a point.”

  “What point would that be Nigel?” Leldeif said noticeably slower than he typically would.

  Nigel looked at him for a long time as if he were waiting for some kind of sign before he spoke.

  There are other things besides alcohol that have similar effects for different races is all.” Leldeif froze, his face becoming slack as understanding struck him, but it was too late. He wanted to display a face of rage at the betrayal but he couldn’t control it. Tia smiled prettily at him and gave a small wave and then winked of all things. His eye’s rolled back and he heard Nigel giving instructions.

  “Did you bring a basin and a change of his clothing? Good, that’s the problem with Ravenstoe, it causes all of the muscles to go slack.” Nigel said before turning to Tia who was putting on a heavy coat and leggings before strapping on her harness. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I have to, I owe him. Explain things to Tic will you?”

  “I will, I’ll… I… look forward to your return.” Nigel said gently. Tia stepped in and wrapped her arms around him and looked up into his amber flecked eyes and waited. He looked nervously to the side waiting for everyone to turn away, they didn’t. He bent down and gave her what she waited for.

  Thirty six hours later Nigel and twenty of his own descended upon Lilieack. In the darkest portion of the city they gently set down their cargo of a pretty and young woman and a very angry elf.

  “You will pay for this Nigel.” Leldeif said before Tia could even undo his bonds.

  “Leldeif, you are my friend, I know you. If you allow your people to perish without lifting a hand it will turn you into even more of a pain in the ass than you already are.”

  “That’s not your business.”

  “Trust me my friend.”

  “You are not my friend.”

  “Ha! You petulant bastard.” Nigel said acting as if he was enjoying the banter to which he probably was. “Trust when I say this ‘my friend’ I did not make this decision on my own. I have to go now, emissaries have arranged a meeting between your brother and I. Fare well my friend.” Without another word and two powerful pulls of his wing’s he disappeared into the gloom of night, headed towards the encampment of Leldeif’s brother.

  I wonder if he will be an ass hole too?

  Personal note from me:

  It’s going to take a year and six but I’ll get this done for you. Thank you once again and come find me on facebook. To read more of my work, go to my amazon page at…Smarturl.it/josephansen I am multi genre so keep an open mind.

 

 

  Joseph Hansen, Cataclysm

  Thanks for reading the books on GrayCity.Net