The Forever Man: Betrayal Page 13

  ‘Take him away,’ commanded Milly.

  Two Orcs grabbed the accused by his arms and dragged him towards the door.

  ‘There is a higher court than this,’ the man shouted as they manhandled him down the aisle. ‘It is the court of conscience and soon you shall be tried by it.’

  Milly stood up and waited for one of her human servants to place her fur cloak around her shoulders. She knew that some were of the opinion that she had too many servants, but she figured that she was entitled to them. In fact it was a necessity as opposed to a luxury. Being the paramount human in the Fair-Folk realm, she literally worked an eighteen hour plus day.

  Since the Great Victory, when commander Ammon and his army had vanquished the Annihilators and simultaneously forced the renegade humans back to the far north of the country, Milly had thrown herself into her work.

  It had been rumored that Nathaniel had been slain in the battle, but as there were no actual eye witnesses to his death, Milly took the news with a pinch of salt. She fervently hoped that it was true, but suspected that he was simply lying low, licking his wounds after his humiliating defeat by the brave commander Ammon and the Orc army.

  Be that as it may, Milly had taken the opportunity to mould a new regime. A new structure for the humans that now fell under the Fair-Folk leadership. She no longer had to worry about Nathaniel and his people attacking them and ruining all that they had achieved.

  There would be no more war-mongering and pedaling of hatred. Laws would be obeyed and humanity would prosper under the benign dictatorship of the Fair-Folk with her at the helm of all human affairs.

  The first thing that Milly had done was to eradicate all of the existing human ranks structures. There were no longer humans, worthy humans and premier humans. Now there were simply humans. And in charge of them all – Milly, the Paramount human. Humans were no longer given any form of control of anything above menial labor and servitude. It was necessary, she had explained to Ammon. They simply could not be trusted with any power whatsoever as they would merely abuse it. It was harsh but it was the only way to ensure their own safety in the long run.

  She also banned private ownership of anything bar clothing. They were housed in communal dwellings, ate in communal halls and all of their labor was supervised by goblin overseers.

  Milly had also forbidden meetings, public speaking and religious worship. All of these fell under the umbrella of sedition and were punishable by death.

  As a result of these draconian measures human crime had been almost totally eradicated, not counting the crime of sedition.

  Humanity was finally at peace and Milly knew that it was mainly due to her.

  Unbeknown to Milly, commander Ammon stood in the shadows at the back of the hall of justice and watched her leave. Once again he was impressed at the cold way that she dispensed justice to her own kind. Her judgments were swift and taken without vacillation or indecision.

  Truth be known, Ammon had a great deal of respect for human Milly. If only she wasn’t so horrifically unattractive, he thought to himself. That pinkish skin and all of that hair. Horrendous. He shuddered.

  But apart from his unrequited feelings towards the supreme human he was genuinely and completely happy. The Fair-Folk had consolidated their position and the humans were no longer a threat. A far as Seth and his mages could tell, The Forever Man was no more and the human numbers had fallen to such a level that they could barely defend their new wall let alone conduct any aggressive forays.

  So, the Fair-Folk, and particularly their commander, now lived a life of unparalleled luxury unheard of in their living memories.

  Perhaps in the future they would launch an attack against the humans and then finally subjugate them entirely – but for now they would simply wallow in their well deserved comfort.

  Ammon pulled himself from his reverie and went outside, followed by his Orc bodyguards. He picked up his pace a little as he left. After all, he had a front seat and he didn’t want to miss the hanging.

  Chapter 36

  Nathaniel sprinted along the bank of the stream. He was barefoot and wearing only a pair of silk shorts. He reached the greased pole, leapt onto it and stopped. Dead still. He stood on one foot, the other raised to his chest, then he swapped, leaping high into the air as he did so.

  After a minute of balancing he sprang to the ground and continued his run, first crossing the stream on a tightrope, running along it with sure foot and perfect balance.

  On the other side of the stream was a track that all referred to as ‘the path of pain’. It was covered in shards of razor sharp flint, capable of slashing deeply into a man’s foot. The marine ran over it without any sign of hurt or discomfort.

  Next he ran to the mountain, sprinting upwards, leaping from rock to rock until the incline got so steep that he had to run on all fours and then, eventually, he started to climb the perpendicular rock face, finding handholds that seemed, to the naked eye, to be nothing more than a dimple in the rock.

  Finaly he reached the top and stood on the peak, snow and sleet blew at him in savage gusts and his torso glistened with a coating of frozen sweat.

  After catching his breath he started down the mountain, soaring from rock to rock, feet hardly touching the earth as he tore down the steep incline.

  An hour later he stood outside his dwelling, steaming like a race horse as he stood in the cold to recover. But before he could catch his breath, five acolytes, young men ranging between twenty and twenty five, stepped out from the bushes. Each was armed with a six foot staff. As one they attacked the marine, stout staffs whistling through the air fast enough to break bone and crush flesh on contact.

  But the marine was as smoke, impossible to strike as he whirled and jumped. Then, with explosive speed, he lashed out. In less than a second all five of the acolytes were on the ground, unconscious.

  Fulcrum came out of the building and nodded. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘As I said in the beginning, development of the mind can be accomplished only when the body has been disciplined. The physical part of your training is now complete. It is time to learn about real power.’

  Nathaniel’s teacher walked towards the stream and then turned to follow a track that would take them through the cherry tree orchards and to a small set of standing stones. There were nine stones, about seven feet high and set in a circle. Some had faded glyphs carved into them, swirls and geometric patterns.

  In the center of the circle a large flat stone lay on its side, a perfect height for a bench. Fulcrum sat down and beckoned to Nathaniel to do the same.

  ‘Up to now,’ said Fulcrum. ‘I have advised against you using magik to complete your given tasks.’

  ‘Well, if by advised you actually mean banned, then I agree,’ said Nathaniel.

  Fulcrum allowed himself the glimmer of a smile. ‘I did this for a reason. You had to hone your physical skills first in order to allow your spiritual side to follow. Now, for the first time, I would like you to conjure up a small ball of fire. Nothing too ostentatious, something the size of your fist will do.’

  The marine concentrated, pulled in power and created a flaming ball. It hovered in front of the two of them, giving off a smoky orange glare.

  ‘Good,’ said Fulcrum. ‘Now, how did you do that?’

  ‘Easy,’ replied Nathaniel. ‘I simply pulled in power from the pulse light and turned it into energy in the form of fire.’

  Fulcrum nodded. ‘Could you create a ball of ice?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Not so good with ice. Never saw a need. There’s always snow around anyhow. I can do light. I’ve done wind before but can’t actually remember how. It was a heat of battle sort of thing.’

  ‘Magik very basic,’ said Fulcrum. ‘Firstly, one must realize that it is not a given thing. Some can do it and others cannot, much like some are gifted with phenomenal eyesight and some are short sighted. The ability is a biological imperative. You have been gifted with an almost limitless ability within
you. To put it bluntly, you are a freak of nature. But you are, at present, an amateur. An unguided missile. Basically, a dumb bomb.’

  ‘Oh thanks,’ quipped Nathaniel. ‘You forgot to tell me that my mother dresses me funny and that I have the intellect of a stoat.’

  ‘I do not mean to insult,’ mollified Fulcrum. ‘I am merely pointing out the truth. You wield a power that you have no real knowledge about. For example, where does the power come from and what makes it possible to use?’

  Nathaniel thought for a few moments before he answered. ‘I get the power from the pulse light. I simply concentrate on it, pull it in and then release it in the form that I want.’

  ‘Basically correct,’ acknowledged Fulcrum. ‘Although very basically. Your explanation is much like saying that one gets wet in the rain because water makes you wet. True but without any understanding of water at all.

  Your power does stem from the pulse light. But what you do not know is that different power is gained through different colors. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet,’ Fulcrum spread his arms and a rainbow appeared in front of them, its colors bright and vibrant.

  ‘But there are more colors than those obvious ones. Think of color like sound, there are sounds that the human ear cannot hear, but we do experience them. These sounds are either too deep or too high for our usual range of hearing. However, contradictorily, they are the most powerful of sounds. Deep notes, around nine Hz, will produce nausea, anxiety, shortness of breath. High notes can shatter glass, damage human cell structure and cause physiological damage. It is the same with color; the ones that we cannot see are the most powerful ones. And I am not talking about different wavelengths like infra red and ultra violet.’ He clicked his fingers and the colors in the rainbow separated into individual arcs.

  ‘I am talking about the two colors on either side of the visible spectrum. Crimrow, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, zylac.

  These are the most important lights. Crimrow is referred to as the chaste-light. Zylac is the sub-light or black-light. Crimrow brings life and Zylac encourages death. Green is earth-light, growth and peace. Hot colors, red, orange, yellow, are heat-light. Fire, warmth, power through heat, flying, movement, fireballs.’

  Nathaniel held up his hand. ‘Whoa. Information dump. Slow down. Okay – so, from what you are saying, it’s pretty obvious. Hot colors are hot and cold colors are cold. I get that. Crimrow and zylac are the important lights but I can’t see them. So, how am I going to use them?’

  Fulcrum smiled. ‘You are already using these lights at an unconscious level. To you it is like breathing. Or keeping your heart beating. You don’t have to think about it. It is an autonomous thing. It simply happens. However, I will teach you how to control it.’

  ‘How am I already using them?’ Asked Nathaniel. ‘What do I do with them?’

  ‘You use them at a sub-atomic level, constantly vacillating between the one and the other. That is why you are immortal. When you die you embrace death via the sub-light. This keeps your body in a state of suspended animation while the chaste-light repairs your body, bringing you back to life. Your enhanced speed and strength are brought about through your unconscious use of both the earth-lights and the heat-light.’

  ‘I was told by a Nobel Prize winning professor once that it was Gamma rays that enhanced my speed,’ argued Nathaniel.

  Fulcrum nodded. ‘Same thing, different terminology.’

  ‘Whatever,’ conceded the marine. ‘When do we start?’

  ‘To coin a cliché,’ said Fulcrum. ‘No time like the present. But before we do there is one more thing that you have to know. And it is very important. The pulse light, or life light is your source of power, but without the standing stones it is very weak.’

  ‘Come again,’ said Nathaniel.

  ‘The standing stones,’ repeated Fulcrum. ‘Stone Henge, the Seven Sisters, Castlerigg, Ringmoor.’

  ‘I get it,’ interrupted Nathaniel. ‘I know that the stones are some sort of portal. The rubber heads came through one in Cornwall. I suspect the Annihilators did the same. But how do they affect the power?’

  ‘Have you heard about Ley lines?’ Asked Fulcrum.

  ‘Vaguely,’ admitted Nathanial. ‘Some sort of pathway that connects ancient monuments or such.’

  ‘Not quite,’ corrected Fulcrum. ‘A Ley line is a magnetic path of power that connects all ancient places of power. Stone circles, cathedrals, places of worship. People have come up with many theories as to what these Ley lines represent and some have even gotten quite close. But I can tell you that they are conduits. Imagine, if you will, that the stones circles are points of power, like batteries. Each, on its own, is not that powerful, however, all of them connected together are capable of producing an almost unbelievable amount of power.

  The Ley lines are the cables that would connect these batteries. So, when you draw power from the life light you don’t only draw power from your direct vicinity, you actually draw power from every point on the compass that is connected via the Ley lines. Like a fisherman casting a net as opposed to a single line.’

  ‘So, if there were no standing stones?’ Asked Nathaniel. ‘Would magik be possible?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ answered Fulcrum. ‘However, let me put it in perspective. There are around ten thousand standing stone sites in the United Kingdom. Ten thousand separate sources of power that is multiplied via the Ley lines. Without those the power that you could concentrate would be tiny. Enough to provide light, fire. Your speed and ability to heal would still work as it uses little power but it uses it constantly. Essentially, without Ley lines you would be an almost immortal, exceptional warrior capable of some very impressive parlor tricks.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Let’s do it.’

  ‘First you need to learn how to see, or at least become aware of the invisible lights, crimrow and zylac.’

  ‘How long will it take?’ Enquired the marine.

  Fulcrum raised an eyebrow. ‘It will take as long as it takes. Suffice to say, you shall have to learn how to listen for the color of the sky. Look for the sound of the hummingbird's wings. Search the air for the perfume of ice on a hot day. When you have found these things, you will find an awareness of the hidden colors.’

  ‘That is impossible.’

  Fulcrum shrugged. ‘For many it is. But as the Persian poet, Saadi once said; you must have patience, for all things are difficult before they become easy.’

  ‘Yeah well, as Confucius once said – just because man has one, does not mean he has to act like one,’ answered Nathaniel sarcastically.

  Fulcrum smiled. ‘Let us begin.’

  Chapter 37

  Once again Kob had disobeyed a direct order from Tad. The Little Big Man had expressly forbidden anyone venturing into enemy territory for any reason whatsoever.

  Over the last few years an uneasy truce had built up between the humans and the Fair-Folk. Humans stuck to their side of the wall and the Fair-Folk, on the whole, left them alone. However, a small but constant stream of escaped humans arrived at the wall to seek asylum. Humans who had broken free from the Fair-Folk pens, killing their Orc guards and fleeing for the Free State.

  If they managed to make the wall then Tad always took them in. On the other hand, he forbade any humans actually going into rubber head territory to physically help the refugees. Tad maintained that there were barely enough human warriors to man the wall, let alone take on a Fair-Folk invasion if Ammon decided to punish them for helping human renegades.

  Kob had argued, repeating stories of horrific Fair-Folk abuse of humans. Keeping them in cages little bigger than dog kennels. Feeding them on gruel and grass cuttings. Literally working them to death.

  Tad had merely shaken his head. ‘I must protect what we have,’ he insisted. ‘If we blatantly conduct campaigns in Fair-Folk territory we could lose all. I know what you are thinking,’ he had continued. ‘I am attempting to save human kind at the cost of our hum
anity. But I know not what else to do.’ And again he forbade any human to interfere.

  Eventually Kob stopped arguing. He could see that the decision troubled Tad hugely. It was only as he was leaving that he realized that he was not human. Neither were the Vandals.

  So now the Orc and a team of Vandals went out into Fair-Folk territory whenever they could and they shepherded human refugees to the wall and to freedom.

  The latest group was particularly pathetic. A father and two daughters, all malnourished to the point that their faces looked like Halloween masks, skeletal and filthy. Their clothes were little more than ragged strips of sacking and their bodies were covered in open sores.

  After Kob and Grim-son, the Vandal wing commander, had convinced the humans that they were on their side and they had fed and watered them, the father introduced himself.

  ‘My name is Gareth,’ he said. ‘These are my daughters, Janet and Phoebe. We escaped from the labor camp in Carlisle. It’s a farming and wood cutting encampment. My wife, Sarah, died from some sort of fever a year ago. I was young when the Fair-Folk first arrived and then took over; much later, both my daughters were born. That was just before the rubber heads started the enforced labor system. We have been incarcerated for almost six years. Allowed out of the pens only to work the fields, no eating utensils, no chance of getting hold of anything that one could make a weapon out of. Under constant Orc guard.

  One day, one of the other inmates in our pen died, I hid his body in the straw until the flesh had rotted enough for me to remove his leg. The stench in the pits was already so dire that the Orcs didn’t even notice. Once his flesh had decomposed enough, I took off his shin bone and spent the next three weeks sharpening it against the wall whenever I could. Finally I had this.’

  He pulled a six inch long shiv from beneath his ragged loin cloth. It had obviously been carved from a human tibia. A vicious weapon.