The Forever Man: Clan War Read online

  ‘Good,’ encouraged Gogo. ‘Bring it back in. Remember to pull the power back with it.’

  The marine drew the light back to him. He could feel it throbbing with earth-power. Sparking and surging.

  ‘Now,’ said Gogo, ‘A small flame.’

  Nathaniel opened his hand, palm up, and imagined a small ball of fire floating above it. There was a rush of air and a burning globe appeared in front of him. Spitting and crackling with power, white hot, like a miniature sun. The interior of the vardo heated up instantly as the ball of raging energy pumped out waves of heat.

  ‘Turn it off,’ commanded Gogo. ‘Quickly!’

  Nathaniel shut his mind down. Imagining black cold emptiness. The ball of pure energy spluttered out of existence. All that was left was the residue of heat and a blue-white spot that seemed to be branded into the marine’s retina.

  ‘Impressive,’ admitted Gogo. ‘Your control needs a bit of working on but I think that you get the gist of it.’ She smiled and grasped Nathaniel’s hand. ‘Well done, Forever Man. Now, keep working on it. Not only fire but also ice, water, wind. Now go. Relax by the fire, listen to more of Papa Dante’s ridiculous stories, eat and drink. The weather has almost broken and, I think, you will leave us tomorrow. I bid you goodbye. But we shall meet again – sooner than you think.’

  The marine kissed her on both cheeks and left her vardo to spend the rest of his time amongst the walking folk.

  ***

  They left early the next morning after trading some cigars for some of the golden brandy that the walking folk made so well.

  The sky shimmered with the rainbow colors of the pulse and the drifts of pure diamond-white snow reflected it back in an exhilarating show of prismatic light. It was like riding through an artist’s fantasy. A stained-glass window of a world.

  The horses’ hooves crunched through the snow and their breath plumed out in front of them. Both Nate and Tad had broken out their furs and pulled them tightly around themselves to ward off the bitter cold.

  Nathaniel contemplated using his new found power to encase them both in a pocket of warm air but decided against it, lest he lose control and ended up crispy-frying both of them instead.

  They followed the old M1 highway through the country, heading towards London. Although it had been over twenty years since the pulse, the highway was still full of derelict cars. Rusting reminders of a bygone era where the trip that they were taking would have been a mere five or six hour jaunt – as opposed to many days of hard walking and horseback travel.

  Late afternoon they would divert from the remains of the highway and seek a village or town where they would trade a little, eat a hot meal and barter for a room.

  Some of the smaller villages were doing fairly well, albeit under the ever-present yoke of either the Fair-Folk or their worthy humans.

  The norm seemed to be that every settlement of more than a hundred people had a detachment of Fair-Folk control attached to it. Some small villages had only a small battle group living amongst them. Ten Orcs and five goblins with a human cavalry messenger and at least one worthy human.

  Bigger towns, such as St. Ipolytes or Gosmoor, had a thousand or so humans and full detachments of battle Orcs and goblins complete with an actual Fair-Folk ambassador.

  Tad and Nathaniel came across another two more Fair-Folk but, try as he might, Tad could only see them as six foot, impossibly perfect, androgynous male-model types, whereas Nathaniel saw the reality of the situation.

  But one thing that they both noticed was the social structure that had been imposed on the survivors of the human race. Humanity had been relegated to the role of the ground-grubbing serf. Any less menial labor, such as black-smithing, trade or administration could only be done by those who had been accepted as a worthy human or else had obtained a certificate of permission through some other means, usually bribery of a worthy human. All crimes, no matter how petty, invoked capital punishment and all executions were carried out in public, by the rope.

  Man had truly returned to the dark ages and this filled Nathaniel with righteous ire.

  After spending the night in the town of Findon, another sewage ridden, gray, depressing survival camp of a place, Nathaniel made a decision.

  ‘Let’s go home,’ he said to Tad. ‘I see no reason to continue to London. I have seen enough.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  The marine nodded. ‘The world stinks. Literally and figuratively. It’s worse than Russia at the height of its madness. I’m not sure what can be done, but I’ll tell you something for nothing, something will be done. I need to think about it. We’ll head home via the Abbey. And I think that this time I’ll talk to Milly, whatever the reaction.’

  They trudged back through the snow, traveling a slightly different route to the way that they had just come. They were stopped once by an Orc battle group and questioned by a worthy human who demanded to see their papers. He had also demanded a box of cigars and two flagons of brandy as “tax”. The Orcs and goblins had merely stared at them without expression, their weapons at the ready.

  A few days later they arrived back at the Abbey and called on Axel.

  Nathaniel asked the captain to send for the professor and the father, so that they could talk.

  When all were seated he began.

  ‘My friends. When I left this timeline, some twenty years back, humanity was in crises. The ongoing solar flares had all but destroyed us, driving us back into a pre-agrarian economy. A society of hunters, gatherers and scavengers. As you know, we died in our millions. And then the so called Fair-Folk with their pig-men and their goblins took over and, in doing so, forced humanity forward into a true agrarian age. An age of crop producers. Dirt farmers, toiling the soil to make ends meet. Many seem to think that this is what saved humanity. Bullcrap! Double bullcrap,’ the marine banged his fist on the table.

  ‘Estimates show that, at the end of the first year there were no more than five, maybe six million people left. Say six million. Living on over three hundred million acres of land. That gives us over fifty acres each. We would have survived. Okay, there was a bandit problem, but that too would have passed as we banded together. What I am saying is that we owe these Fair-Folk nothing. In fact, they have done us, as humans, irreparable harm. Humanity has been subjugated. We have been chained to the soil. The only way to get a little ahead is to become a party-member. To repudiate your own race. And then all that you have done is raise yourself from dirt grubber to ass licker.’

  The marine stopped and lit himself a cigar, using his magik to create a small flame to do so. It wasn’t necessary, as he could have easily used a taper from the fire, but he felt that he needed a little showmanship. He let the flame burn in the air in front of him for a while before flicking it out of existence.

  ‘Friends, I cannot allow this to continue. Mankind was not meant to be enslaved to a group of gray aliens and pig-faced monsters. However, there is no way that we can fight against them. Not yet. They are too many and too well trained and armed. What I propose is this. I will return to Scotland. There I will, once again, unite the clans. I will fortify and protect Hadrian’s Wall and I shall declare the land north of the wall a free state. No Fair-Folk shall be allowed there under pain of death. Any human that wants to live a life free from the yolk of the gray things will be welcome to the Scottish free state. There they will be protected and they will be able to pursue whatever they will, as long as they follow the rules of the state.’

  ‘And who shall rule this land?’ Asked the professor.

  ‘I shall,’ said Nathaniel. ‘As well as a council of advisors that I appoint.’

  ‘You’ll be like a king of old,’ commented the prof.

  Nathaniel shook his head. ‘No, I shall not be like a king of old. I will be a king of old. King Nathaniel Degeo Arnthor Hogan, the first of his line.’

  ‘Not to put too fine a point on it, my boy,’ argued the prof. ‘But what gives you the right?’

  Natha
niel smiled, but there was no humor in his expression.

  ‘I claim the right, professor. As the only immortal amongst us I claim the right. As a conqueror of the Romans I claim the right. As the last king of the picts … I claim the right. And any that gainsay me will be face my wrath. For is it not said – don’t screw with The Forever Man?’

  ‘Works for me,’ said Axel. ‘How can we help?’

  ‘By creating a pipeline,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Once we bloody the Fair-Folk’s noses and make plain our plans, they will not stand idly by. At very least they will ban any humans from leaving their realm and going over to the free state. I want you and the church to set up a pipeline whereby we can smuggle people out of the realm and into my kingdom.’

  ‘It shall be done,’ said Axel.

  Father O’Hara nodded his agreement. ‘I too am wid you, Nathaniel.’

  ‘I too,’ agreed the prof.

  ‘As ever, my friend,’ added Tad. ‘As ever.’

  The four of them stayed up late into the night. Throwing out ideas and laying down plans.

  The next morning, when Tad and Nathaniel left, the seed of the free state of Scotland had been planted, it had germinated and was ready to grow.

  Chapter 25

  Milly was exhausted. It seemed that the bulk of her job was to fill in paperwork, and the mere sight of the gray, lumpy recycled board that passed for paper in the new world made her feel ill just to look at. There were licenses to trade, to work metal, to buy, to sell. Permits to allow extra food for pregnant women, travel permits and living permits.

  There were countless applications from people for extra housing, food, clothing. Applications for people applying to become worthy humans. Petitions, letters of advice and even some of complaint - although those were guarded and couched in such a way as to make them almost impossible to understand. After all, dissent was a capital punishment.

  The applications to become worthy humans were simply discarded immediately. The Fair-Folk had decided that the quota for worthies had been met and, for the foreseeable future, no more humans would be elevated.

  She also had two hangings to preside over later that week. One was for domestic violence, a husband beating his wife, and the other was a teenage boy who had been caught stealing seed grain and bartering it on the black market.

  She knew that some still viewed capital punishment as harsh, but she well remembered the times before the Fair-Folk and their laws. Barely staying alive on a diet of leathery old potatoes, living in constant fear of bandit raids. Then being kidnapped and viciously violated. Repeatedly. And it didn’t end there. Still, almost twenty years on, she relived the experience almost nightly. The stink of their breath, the tearing pain. The feeling of utter helplessness as a line of men queued up to take their turn at despoiling you. Over and over and over.

  A few hangings were small price to pay to prevent the same happening to any other young girls. The Fair-Folk had their problems but at least they weren’t animals…like her fellow human beings.

  There was a knock on the door. Her assistant, Doris Finburg. Late middle age, efficient, timid. An apology of a person, not a worthy, but striving to do her best.

  ‘Ma’am,’ she said, her voice a little above a whisper as it always was. ‘A gentleman to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment but he says that it’s urgent. He says that he has come to apologize.’

  Normally Milly saw no one without prior appointment, however, this piqued her interest. Apologize? About what, she wondered.

  ‘Show him in, Doris.’

  Her assistant ushered a man in and then closed the door.

  He was tall. Well built. His dark hair tumbled in waves past his shoulders and his neatly trimmed beard framed a strong jaw and straight nose. His eyes were an almost ethereal green. And they bored right into her very soul.

  She gasped and her hand flew to her heart. She struggled to breath and it felt as if someone had paced a huge boulder on her chest and left her to die.

  ‘Hello Milly,’ he said.

  Finally she managed to draw a breath and she stepped around the desk on wobbly legs. She walked right up to him, curled her right hand into a fist and struck him in the face as hard as she could.

  The marine could have dodged but he didn’t. He stood stock-still and took the blow. A cut opened up above his left eye and blood flowed down his face. Milly pulled her arm back and struck him again, this time splitting his lip. The third punch, however, slapped into the marine’s palm and he held her fist tight.

  ‘Let me go,’ she grunted. ‘Afraid that I’ll hurt you?’

  Nathaniel shook his head. ‘No. I’m afraid that you might hurt yourself.’

  The two of them stared at each other for a while.

  Eventually Milly spoke.

  ‘You left me,’ she said. ‘You left me, and then the bad men came, and they took me and they hurt me. And you weren’t there.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Milly,’ said Nathaniel. ‘I am so sorry.’

  ‘I hate you,’ hissed Milly.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Milly kicked the marine in the shins. Hard. He didn’t flinch.

  ‘I hate you so much,’ Milly cried out.

  She threw her arms around him; tears flowing freely from her eyes as her body shook with emotion.

  ‘I thought you were dead,’ she said. ‘Every day for twenty years I have lived with your death and now you’ve come back.’

  She held him as hard as she could.

  ‘I hate you,’ she whispered into his chest.

  Nathaniel stroked her hair and said nothing.

  She looked up at him.

  They kissed.

  Chapter 26

  The two of them had departed the collective at a gallop and had ridden the horses hard, steaming and panting through the frozen landscape.

  That night they camped in a secluded dell, a way off the beaten track. Due to the haste of their travel that day, they had little time to talk.

  ‘I still don’t understand why we had to run,’ said Tad. ‘You wouldn’t sleep with her so she said that she would send the Orcs to hunt you down and kill you?’

  Nathaniel nodded. ‘Basically. It was a bit more complicated than that, but, in a nutshell – yes.’

  ‘Wow,’ exclaimed Tad. ‘That is seriously heavy.’

  ‘The whole thing was pretty heavy, man,’ said Nathaniel. ‘First thing she hits me, says that she hates me and then we kiss. Then I tell her that I need some time to assimilate. I mean…a year ago, to me, she was a little girl. So she screams that I’m rejecting her again, I try and calm her down. She asks me to stay and I tell her that I need to go back to Scotland. I explained the whole plan to her, begged her to come back with me, but by now she’s totally lost her cool. Screaming and shouting that I’m deserting her again, tells me that I’m a traitor and a usurper. Says that I’m worse than an animal. And then she threatens me with Orcs. I figured that we’d better get going while the going was still good.’

  ‘Women, hey?’ Sighed Tad.

  Nathaniel poked at the fire with a stick. ‘Yeah, women.’ He looked around him, surveying the land. ‘Hey, you know, back when, before I met you, I rescued some guy here. In this approximate area. He was naked. Bit of a loony, actually. So I found out that he had escaped from this lunatic asylum, or home for the mentally challenged or whatever they called it back then. I found the place and returned him. Stayed the night. Next morning I went to find him to say goodbye…the guy’s dead. Strung up in a butcher’s room, sliced and bloody diced. Waiting to be eaten by the staff there. Then I realize that the meal I ate the night before had been people flesh. I tell you, Tad, sometimes life is simply too weird to contemplate.’

  ‘What did it taste like?’

  ‘Pork,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Fatty pork.’

  ‘Did you kill the cannibals?’

  The marine shook his head. ‘No. They were keeping the loonies alive. If I killed them then everyone would have died.’

 
‘They were going to die anyway,’ said Tad. ‘They were going to be eaten.’

  ‘I know. But I left them. I didn’t know what to do then and I don’t know what to do now.’

  ‘There’s nothing that you can do about Milly,’ said Tad. ‘It’s simply too complicated. Tell you what. Why don’t we get you home and organize you a nice uncomplicated war to fight? You like that don’t you?’

  Nathaniel laughed. ‘You sarcastic little bastard.’

  Tad offered the marine a cigar and they sat smoking until it was time to turn in.

  ***

  The first thing that they noticed when they rode over the hill was the gallows.

  It stood out starkly against the rising sun. Its single arm stretching out to the side, holding a thirteen-knot noose of death. An implacable inanimate object that’s sole purpose was to choke the life out of a human being.

  The sight of it brought on a cold rage in Nathaniel’s soul.

  ‘Look,’ he pointed. ‘I hate those things. Some poor bastard is going to hang for stealing a loaf of bread or selling food without permission, or for working without a permit.’

  ‘Or maybe for murder or rape,’ said Tad. ‘We don’t know.’

  The marine kicked his horse into a trot, urging it forward.

  ‘Well, let’s go and find out,’ he said.

  It was a small village and the gallows were set up on the fringe, in the middle of an open patch of ground. This allowed standing room for the crowd who would be watching, whether they wanted to or not.

  The two friends headed towards the middle of the village, seeking the pub and some information about the forthcoming hanging. Nathaniel stopped a young boy who was walking down the street.

  ‘Hey,’ he called. ‘Boy. Where’s the inn.’

  The child pointed at a building and then ran.

  ‘You have a real way with children,’ said Tad, laughing as he did so.