The Forever Man: Axeman Read online

  The brigadier pointed to a pile in the corner.

  ‘Get dressed, sweetheart,’ said Nate. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Stacey,’ she replied. Her voice shaking.

  Okay, Stacey, quickly now, get dressed and then come and stand by me.’

  The girl did as she was told and then stood behind Nate.

  ‘What now?’ She asked.

  ‘Damned if I know, Stacey.’ answered Nate. ‘I’m making this up as I go along.’ He used his rifle to motion towards the door. ‘Come on, brigadier. Outside, you first.’

  The brigadier opened the door and walked out. Nate followed and, as he stepped out into the corridor, a sixth sense told him to move. He stared to pull back but it was too late. A rifle butt smashed into his cheek, splitting the skin and knocking him down. Immediately a veritable herd of boots started kicking him. At least five men, crowding in close and giving it all that they had. He felt his nose break with a gravel-like crunch. Then he distinctly heard at least three ribs and a collarbone break. Dry dull snapping sounds.

  As he passed out he found just enough time to berate himself for being such an idiot.

  The sun rose over a crisp, white land. The sky was a clear frigid blue and a light wind stirred little flurries of snow from the ground like a restless child at play.

  A man pushed through the crowd. He was holding a bucket of water that he chucked over another man who was tied with his back to a wooden stake in the middle of the village green.

  Nate choked and spluttered as the icy water yanked him from unconsciousness. Pain washed over him in waves as he pulled against his restraints. He looked around to see that the whole village was there plus all of the soldiers. In front of them all stood mister Clarkson and the brigadier.

  ‘Last night,’ said the brigadier. ‘This man was apprehended by my loyal soldiers while he was attempting to rape a young girl from our village.’

  There were a couple of muted denials from the crowd that were swiftly quashed by some aggressive stares from both the brigadier and mister Clarkson.

  ‘We offered this man our home and in return he decided to violate our children, our most precious recourse. As you all know, I am a fair ruler. Sometimes hard, but always fair. And I have made it obvious that, in this brave new world of ours, there are certain crimes that carry with them the very harshest penalties. Murder, rape and theft are capital crimes and, as such, their wages are death. This is for the good of all. We cannot allow our society to slip into anarchy. The good of the many outweighs the good of the few. I therefore decree that this man, Nathaniel Hogan, be put to death by gunshot. As is the custom the penalty shall be carried out by myself as I have no wish to put the death of others onto the conscience of my people.’

  The brigadier stood before Nate and drew his Browning pistol.

  ‘Do you have any last words, mister Hogan?’

  Nathaniel smiled as he looked at the brigadier. ‘Yep, enjoy your last few hours on this planet. Because, before midday tomorrow, I’m going to have your head on a stick, you megalomaniacal asshole.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ retorted the brigadier. ‘I don’t accept threats from a dead man.’

  Nate winked. ‘Tomorrow, midday. It’s a date.’

  The brig pointed his weapon at Nate’s chest and pulled the trigger twice. The high velocity nine-millimeter rounds slammed Nate back against the wooden stake, smashing and tearing through his lungs as his dead body slumped down against the restraints and hung there. A sacrifice. A warning.

  ‘Leave him there,’ said the brigadier. ‘Let them all see what happens to those who transgress my laws.’

  It started to snow. The flakes whispered down from the leaden sky and covered the dead marine in a shroud of ice.

  And in the background Stacey wept softly as her grandfather comforted her.

  Chapter 2

  The Fair-Folk together with their Orcs, goblins, trolls and constructs had occupied a combined area of round four square miles. The entire area had been fenced in with a wooden stockade and a nearby stream and been diverted through the massive encampment to provide water.

  The council of mages, whom were now operating at full power due to the massive concentrations of life-light on the new planet, had set up an area of Glamour. The glamouring spell discouraged people from noticing the encampment. It didn’t make it invisible; it simply suggested that you ignore it. And up to now the spell had worked remarkably well.

  Two cycles of the moon had passed since commander Ammon Set-Bat had led his people from their dying planet. Their planet had once had been continually bathed in solar flares and gamma ray energy but, due to a solar shift, the pulses had stopped and so had the gamma rays. And gamma radiation, or what the Fair-Folk referred to as the ‘Life-Light’ was what they used to power their magiks. And without their magik the Fair-Folk were a diminished people. But chief mage, Seth Hil-Nu, had ventured far and wide, through both time and space and dimensions seeking another compatible place and time. And he had discovered earth. They had created a gateway and the entire civilization had been transferred. Fair-Folk, battle Orcs, Goblins, Trolls and the Constructs.

  As well as the glamoring the circle of mages had charged all with a universal spell of communication. It allowed all of the members of their peoples to understand and communicate with the Earth people. This also seemed to be working well, although they had not used it much, the biggest problem being that the spell enhanced communicative abilities but it could do little about inherent intelligence. Therefore, the Orcs could communicate but only in a very rudimentary way. The goblins were their usual quick, duplicitous selves and the trolls were as simple and uncommunicative as before.

  Commander Ammon had sent out small detachments of Orcs and goblins to scout the far outlying areas and they were returning with mixed reports. There were a few constants; during all sightings and meetings between the two species the earth people reacted with fear and shock. And sometimes with aggression.

  They had been there for almost two months now and Ammon had decided that the time had come to plan an expansion. After all, they were not in this new world simply to survive, they were here to thrive. So the commander had stepped up the amount and the range of the scouting parties that he sent out. Sometimes there were upward of over twenty fast battle squads of groups. Each group consisted of five battle Orcs and five goblin archers. One of the Orcs would have the rank of dekado, leader of ten, and one of the goblins would be a quinto, second in charge. Their primary role was one of reconnaissance and fact finding and they were encouraged to avoid hostilities if possible.

  Orc sergeant Nog sniffed at the air, his nose flaps pulsing in and out. The smell of human was strong. Many human. Close by. The Orc turned to his goblin corporal.

  ‘Human,’ he grunted. ‘Many human. Near to us.’

  Corporal Rames nodded. His sense of smell was not as acute as the Orc and he accepted his findings without question.

  The battle squad moved forward, cautiously coming out of the cover of the forest. In front of them were a group of seven or so humans, a mixture of male and female. It looked as though they were tilling the fields. Working with hoe and shovel. Nog and his group had come across groups of humans before and every one had taken one look at them and ran away in terror.

  But these humans were different.

  One of the males looked up and saw the battle group walking towards them. He stopped hoeing and stared for a few seconds before speaking to his fellow farmers. They all stopped what they were doing and watched the battle group approach.

  The male that had first noticed the group walked towards Nog.

  ‘Greetings, travelers,’ he said. ‘I have heard rumors but this is the first time that I have actually seen any of you. My name is Basil, although I prefer to be known as Sunbeam.’

  The Orc tilted his head to one side. ‘I am Nog. I prefer to be known as Nog because that is who I am.’

  ‘Cool, Nog,’ said Basil as he held his hand
out to shake.

  Nog stared at the human’s outstretched hand and decided to ignore it, not sure what he was doing.

  ‘We are scouting the land,’ rumbled the Orc. ‘We are not looking for conflict and mean no harm.’

  ‘That’s cool, dude,’ responded Basil. ‘We are a commune of like-minded individuals. Vegans of course. Would you and your companions like to eat with us? I would very much like to talk.’

  Nog nodded and beckoned to his squad who formed up behind him.

  Lunch consisted of a large vegetable curry. Nog pushed at his with his thick claws. ‘No meat.’ He said.

  ‘We are vegans,’ explained Basil. ‘We eat no meat nor use animal product or the labors of animals.’

  The Orc pushed his bowl away. ‘Then soon you will all die. No fur coats, no shoes, no honey to make mead. You will all be dead by the fifth winter.’

  Basil shook his head. ‘No, we will persevere. And we shall do so without exploiting animals.’

  Nog stood up. ‘No, you will all die. You are all very stupid. Thank you for the meal. It contained little nourishment but your offer showed kindness.’

  The squad left with Nog.

  ‘These thin-skins are strange in the extreme,’ he said to Rames. ‘Truly they must be simple to think that they are the same as animals.

  ‘Their females are very attractive, though,’ said the goblin.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Nog. ‘Even more than the finest constructs.’

  Taking Nog’s lead the squad started jogging, heading back to their new home to report.

  Corporal Owen Soames took another bite of rabbit. Chewed. Swallowed.

  ‘Sick of rabbit,’ he said.

  ‘Tough,’ said corporal Robbie Robson. ‘Cause there’s lots of them and they’re easy to catch.’

  ‘Heard that you can starve to death on rabbit. No matter how much you eat.’

  ‘Naw,’ disagreed Robbie. ‘That’s bullshit and you know it. As long as we eat other stuff with it we’ll be fine. It’s just that the body can’t process too much lean meat.’

  Whatever,’ said Owen. ‘Bored with rabbit. Want a Big Mac. Fries. Strawberry milkshake.’

  Robbie laughed. ‘Me too.’

  The two corporals were from 21 SAS and had been involved in an evade and capture exercise in Cornwall when the pulse struck. It hadn’t taken them long to figure out what had happened and their next decision had been relatively simple. Neither had any family and there was no way that they were going to hump all the way to Herefordshire HQ merely to find the place deserted. So, they decided to take a well-earned break and simply set up camp where they were.

  Water and small game were plentiful and, after a few foraging exercises into abandoned houses, they now had a good supply of alcohol and cigarettes. To men used to absolute extremes of discomfort they were now living in comparative luxury and had been doing so for almost three months now. They had eschewed the idea of taking over an actual house or barn as, firstly, they preferred sleeping outdoors and, secondly, it made tactical sense in a possible hostile environment to keep low and keep moving.

  Owen finished off his rabbit, threw the bones into the fire and drew a pack of cigarettes from his webbing. He was about to light up when Robbie raised a hand. Owen reacted instantly, slipping the cigs back into their pouch, kicking snow over the fire and bringing his weapon, an HK53 short assault rifle, to his shoulder.

  Robbie slid over to him and whispered. ‘Something out there,’ he pointed to the forest. ‘Lots of somethings, actually. Grab your kit and let’s move.’

  Within seconds the two SAS soldiers had packed up and were moving stealthily through the trees and the snow. They broke out of the tree line and, keeping low, headed for a small rocky torr that stuck up out of the snow about a hundred yards away, climbing it and nestling in amongst the boulders, unseen.

  Robbie, who was carrying an L11A2 sniper rifle fitted with a set of Schmidt & Bender telescopic sights, used the sights to scope out the tree line. Owen did the same thing using his set of Mil-Tech binoculars.

  Robbie spotted them first.

  ‘Good God.’

  ‘What?’ Asked Owen.

  ‘There, on your left, behind the big Oak tree.’

  Owen swiveled and focused. ‘What the hell are those?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ replied Robbie. ‘Looks like they’re wearing some sort of gray body armor. Full-face helmet. Carrying swords and shields.’

  ‘Oh come on, no ways,’ exclaimed Owen. ‘Look behind them. The dudes carrying bows and arrows.’

  Robbie adjusted his sight line. ‘What the hell…’

  ‘I’ll tell you what the hell,’ said Owen. ‘They are goblins. And trolls, or maybe Orcs.’

  ‘Like Lord of the Rings?’ Asked Robbie.

  ‘Exactomundo, Robbie. Middle earth, hobbits, elves, the whole bleeding thing.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ said Robbie.

  ‘Apparently not,’ countered Owen. ‘Because there they are.’

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘Well,’ considered Owen. ‘If they really are Orcs and goblins then, according to popular belief, they would be the baddies.’

  ‘And we would be the goodies?’ Questioned Robbie.

  ‘That would be correctomundo, Robbie.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘I reckon that we lie here and do nothing. Who knows what that bunch are capable of. Tough looking buggers if I ever saw any.’

  The two SAS men lay still for a while. Observing.

  Suddenly Robbie spoke. ‘Aw, crap. They’ve seen us.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know. But they have. Look, here they come.’

  The battle squad started running towards the two soldiers. Churning through the snow, swords held aloft as they came.

  ‘I’ll try a warning shot,’ said Robbie as he chambered a round into the breech of his sniper rifle. He aimed and fired, kicking up a fountain of snow in front of the lead Orc.

  The squad kept coming, except for the goblins who all immediately stopped running, fitted arrows to their bows and fired. The shafts clattered off the rocks around the SAS men.

  ‘Sod that,’ said Robbie. ‘No one shoots arrows at this soldier.’ He drew a bead on the foremost Orc and pulled the trigger. The high velocity, full metal jacket round struck the Orc in the center of his chest. He took two more steps and then fell to the ground. Robbie swiveled and fired again, dispatching the next Orc.

  Next to him, Owen opened up with his HK53. Short bursts, moving right to left, knocking the Orcs down.

  Another hail of arrows fell around the two of them and Robbie turned his attention to the goblins, cycling and firing at a steady pace. By the time that he had fired eight times the battle group were all dead. Lying still on the white snow. He noted that their blood was as red as his own. For some reason that made him feel uncomfortable.

  Robbie stood up. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s check this out.’ He started walking towards the fallen and Owen followed close behind.

  Owen knelt down next to one of the Orcs and prodded its arm. ‘Man, these guys are built.’ He pulled back the Orc’s tunic to expose the gunshot wound that had killed it. ‘And take a look at this. Its skin must be at least two inches thick. Hell, I’d hate to sit on this guys bar stool by mistake.’ He stood up. ‘This is insane. I mean, where did they come from?’ He turned to face Robbie. ‘What do you…’

  Owen never finished his sentence as a yard long arrow thudded into his chest, the barbed point penetrating his entire body and sticking out of his back. He looked down at it in disbelief.

  ‘Oh, crapola. No way. Killed by a bloody arrow. That sucks.’ He fell to his knees and pitched sideways. Dead before he hit the snow.

  Robbie looked up to see another battle group charging at him, coming from the woods. He raised his rifle, sighted. Fired. Once, got one. Twice, missed. Empty. He had committed the cardinal sin of not reloading after the first skirmish.

&nbs
p; He grinned to himself. Just as well sergeant MacFadden wasn’t here, he thought. He’d kill me for making such a rookie mistake. Mind you, he continued his thought. Looks like he’d have to queue up to get to me.

  He dropped the rifle and drew his Glock 17, racked the slide, aimed at the foremost Orc and fired. The nine-millimeter round barely slowed the creature down. Robbie fired again, six times in quick succession and the Orc dropped. He swiveled and fired at the next one, banging away until it dropped. He was out of ammo again so he dropped the pistol and pulled out his assault knife.

  An Orc moved in close, swinging its massive sword at Robbie’s head. The soldier ducked and rammed his blade into the Orcs torso, under his arm, twisting hard as he did so. The Orc squealed and pulled away but Robbie couldn’t wrench his knife free. Another Orc jumped forward and struck Robbie on the head with its shield. Then it followed up with a massive overhead swipe of its sword. The huge blade almost cut Robbie in half, killing him instantly.

  The Orc that he had stabbed grunted a few times and then slowly keeled over. Dead.

  The remaining Orc and the five goblins checked the soldier’s bodies to ensure that they were dead. None of them attempted to pick up their weapons or check the bodies for valuables. To do so was taboo and would result in bad favor in the next battle.

  ‘Those thin skins were tough fighters,’ said the Orc.

  One of the goblins shrugged. ‘Their far weapons are great. But when you get close they are no match.’

  The Orc tilted his head to one side. ‘That one killed Pok using only his little knife. That not easy. If he had sword or axe might have been different. Might have killed us all. They very agile. Fast. Also kill without compunction. Dangerous. We must report back.’

  The goblin agreed. ‘Yes, we must. Let’s go,’

  The remnants of the second battle group formed up and started to run.

  Chapter 3

  Stacey knelt down and placed the twig of witch hazel in front of the snow-covered marine’s body. It’s small red blooms looked like blood against the white of the snow. The young teenager checked around to make sure that no soldiers had seen her and started to stand up.