El'Anorath (First Draft)

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

         The time had come at last for Nathalya and Wells to gather their packs.  Though it felt to Nathalya that she had been idle for too long.  Without speaking - their hearts too heavy with the prospect of leaving their comfortable suite - they dressed into their uniforms and then pulled their bags over their shoulders. Nathalya had a brief moment, when she felt the weight of her pack, that she thought she might have over-prepared.  Pushing this out of her mind, she followed Wells out of the front door and into the foggy and gray morning weather.

         They met the strike team near the war machine testing compound as Nathalya had instructed.  Alistair Toomes was not present.  Nathalya greeted the strike team and, with a labored grunt, lowered the pack off her shoulders and onto the damp concrete. Sergeant Ralphael gave her a strange look.

         "Did you pack the whole armory?" he jested.  Nathalya looked around for gear belonging to the strike team, but saw nothing except the weapons they carried.

         "Where are your supplies?" she asked. Ralphael looked up to the dreary sky above. 

         "Watch this," he said, pulling what looked to be a remote of some kind from his pocket.  He pressed a button and waited.  Overhead, Nathalya could just make out the faint sound of whirring blades.  Then, breaking through the lower level of clouds and descending slowly appeared a small rotary drone.  It stopped just inches off of the ground and hovered there, making hardly a sound but a soft hum.

         Ralphael pushed another button and a panel swung open on the craft.  He walked over and picked up Nathalya's pack and hefted it inside a large storage compartment.  The same was done for Wells' pack.

         "Shepard designed it," admitted Sergeant Ralphael. 

         "It runs off of a mix of solar and battery powered engines," said Shepard proudly, patting the metallic hull as if it were some kind of pet.  "The extra sensitive solar panels keep the batteries charged for days on end.  When one bank drains, a reserve kicks in until the main is recharged.  She is programmed to follow a signal from the remote for up to five miles at an altitude of two-thousand feet."

         "I'm impressed!" said Nathalya.  "This will certainly make things easier on us, but won't it be spotted on a clear day?"

         "That is the extra fun bit," said Shepard excitedly.  She took the remote from Ralphael and pushed another button.  The drone vanished, leaving only a slightly distorted mass of air where it was sitting.

         "It'll stay cloaked for up to four hours at a time," said Shepard through her slightly curling smile.

         "Excellent," said Nathalya.  "Now all we need is the scientist."

         The fog dissipated only to be replaced by a soft rain from the clouds overhead.  Still there was no sign of the scientist.  After another hour, the scientist finally made an appearance. 

         "Forgive me," he said.  "We made a major breakthrough on another project.  I couldn't afford not being there to document it."

         "It's bad enough we have to protect your scrawny ass on this little venture," said Falson.  "But if I have to listen to any of your boring science bull s***, I'll shoot you myself.  Let's stay focused on the mission."

         With that, the scientist's gear was loaded onto the drone, which then retreated back into the sky, and the company set out.  At the gates of Xera, Sergeant DeVega was waiting to see them off.

         "You're off to a late start," he said. "Is everything okay?" 

         "One of our team ran a little late," confessed Nathalya.  Several of the team members glanced begrudgingly at Toomes.  "When are you heading off to take care of your business?"

         "We're going to draw the full attention of the Corrinite military away from you," said DeVega.  "The General ordered a full offensive on the mountains.  With the lack of re-enforcements, if we don't succeed, it'll likely be the last offensive for a while.  Strange how things go so well for a while, only to turn quick as a leaf."

         "So much for the rescue operation, then," Wells said. 

         "Well, the Alliance isn't known for it's discreetness," replied DeVega.  "Besides, for all of it's might, the Alliance hasn't quite figured out planetary domination under such heavy resistance."

         "When you say it like that," came Haliday's voice.  "You make it sound like we're the bad guys."

         "There are no 'bad guys'," replied Nathalya. "Nor are there 'good guys'.  Just two sides of a war. Let's get moving."

         Nathalya and Wells each gave DeVega a final farewell and wished each other well in their respective tasks. DeVega grabbed Wells' arm as she moved away.

         "What is it?" she asked, and for a moment, their eyes met.

         "Nothing," he replied as he let her go. His eyes darted away from her gaze.  "Be safe out there."

         Nathalya felt a sense of guilt rush into her mind as they parted, as though she was solely responsible for the current state of the El'Anorath campaign.  Like a teetering first domino in a grand design, Xera's desperation seemed to spread to many of the other units around El'Anorath.  If Xera did not come to better fortune, it would topple and a chain reaction would seem inevitable.

         Major Alliance outposts were being overrun each day.  It was a different war now.  Delta fleet had all but retreated to the safety of the star filled nothingness above.  Most of Foxtrot unit was finally located - it's members' bodies recovered and shipped to their home planets for burial.  Gulf and Kilo, based out of Hartfell just eighty miles to the east of Xera, had been decimated some time during Nathalya's captivity.

         The Alliance war marshals could not fathom how the Corrinites had seemingly and so suddenly mustered such a fierce strength.  Their forces knew when and where to strike for maximum effectiveness and it seemed the Alliance would be on its last leg sooner rather than later.  The war marshals, reluctantly, began to draft plans for a full retreat should things continue as they had - plans which would include scrapping 'Project Falling Star".

         Setting a course westward, Nathalya, Wells, Strike Team Echo, and Toomes pulled cloaks tight about them to shelter against the cold rain.  The dirt had turned to thick mud underfoot and an icy wind rushed over the field in front of the company.  After about an hour of trudging through sucking mud, they passed out of the field and into the Tarrin woodlands.  Nathalya felt an uneasy familiarity as they broke the tree line. 

         The company stopped for lunch in a large clearing and built a cooking fire.  Though the sky was clearing, it still rained inside the woodland as water dripped off of the leaves overhead.  A slight breeze blew through the boughs of the trees, but the air was still heavy.  Golden beams of sunlight pierced the canopy and illuminated the woodland  floor.  Birds chatted and called to one another as all forms of wildlife went about their business.

         Hot tea and a thick meat and vegetable soup was given to each of the travelers.  As it turned out, H.M.O. Falson was also an excellent cook.  He took special care with the spices and had marinated the meat in advance.  His discipline in dealing with dangerous weaponry carried over into his culinary prowess, and everything was achieved with perfect balance. 

         Nathalya sat alone and watched each of the members as they ate or relaxed.  Alistair Toomes was scribbling notes in a small journal while three of the four strike team had their backs against the trees with drawn eyes.  Shepard and Wells were sitting and talking together with occasional fits of laughter. Nathalya was glad that Wells and Shepard were getting along - she wasn't sure how much time she had left to spend with Wells.

         It was in that moment that Nathalya felt somehow different and almost disconnected from the others, even from Wells. She felt she was drifting through time in a tale she wished was never told.  It seemed as though it had come from another lifetime long ago, but a distant memory came to her just then.

         She could see her mother, dressed all in summer white with a gold ring on her finger and a gold chain around her neck.  She had been teaching Nathalya how to conjure fire, and Nathalya was learning fast.

         "Remember this, Nathalya;" said her mother, her voice was soft as silk.  "No matter how strong you get, there is always someone stronger.  That someone may not be who you would expect."

         Nathalya nodded and promised her mother that she would always remain humble.

         "The power of the Calari comes with great responsibility.  If you do not use it wisely, it may corrupt your soul."

         Nathalya felt her heart skip as she snapped back to reality when a loud hiss and a column of white billowy smoke issued from the fire Sergeant Ralphael had just extinguished with a bucket of water.  She watched the smoke as it rose above everything, only to be caught in the eastward wind and then fade into nothingness.  Nathalya felt a rush of anxiety and at the same time there came a chorus of howling cries in the distance. 

         "Stalkers!" she shouted.  The strike team jumped to their feet and readied their weapons, but it was too late - the white smoke rising over the treetops was a clear enough signal for miles around.  The clearing was soon full of stalkers in woodland colors.  They weren't heavily armored like the ones Nathalya had seen at the hilltop Juliette camp.  Instead, they wore simple leathers and carried bows of all sizes as well as short swords, daggers, and a few spears with deadly sharp delorite tips.

         They pointed their weapons at the strange company of trespassers and stared with various red, neon green or blue, or granite gray eyes.  Nathalya motioned for the strike team to lower their weapons, taking her own pistol from its holster and letting it fall to the ground.  When the strike team followed suit, one of the stalkers stepped forward.

         His gray and black fur shimmered in the beam of sun that highlighted his wolf-like features.  Under his striped muzzle, two canines protruded from his upper jaw and came to a needle-like point just below his chin.  He carried a long spear in his right hand and an ornate tribal bow and quiver slung over his back.  Light leather armor covered most of his body.  Nathalya also noticed that neither he nor any in his war band wore shoes and their long claws dug into soil underfoot.

         He walked closer and brought the tip of his spear close to Sergeant Ralphael's neck.  Nathalya assumed the beast thought he was the highest ranking.

         "Why are you trespassing, Corrinite?" he asked.  His voice was low and almost a growl as he spoke.

         "We are not Corrinites," replied Nathalya, prompting the stalker to swing his spear swiftly so that it now pointed directly at her chest.  "We are Alliance soldiers on an errand that will take us westward.  Forgive us, had we known you occupied this area of the woods, we would have gone another way."

         "Not just this area," replied the stalker. "We own these woods, always have and always will.  To trespass is to die!"

         He lunged forward, only to find he struck nothing but the air.  Nathalya eased the pistol into his back.  "Drop the spear, stalker," she said calmly amid the growls and threats issuing from the other stalkers around them.  The stalker chieftan let the spear fall to the ground and Nathalya came around to where he could see her, her pistol still trained on him.

         "There are more of us than there are of you," he said, snarling.  "You may kill me, but your entire team will be destroyed."

         "I don't want to kill you," replied Nathalya.  "Not if I don't have to.  We were about to pack up our camp and make for the woodland border.  If you give us your word that we will not be harmed, we can resolve this peacefully and my team and I will leave the woodland.

         The stalker stayed silent and eyed Nathalya through sharp, granite-like eyes.

         "You are not a Corrinite?" he asked. Nathalya shook her head.  His features lightened a little and he thought for a time.  Suddenly, and in words that Nathalya did not recognize, he shouted out to the rest of the stalkers in the clearing.  Nathalya felt her heart leap, but instead of attacking, the stalkers began to lower their weapons.

         "I have told them to lower their weapons," said the stalker.  "We will escort you to the borders of the woodland.  If you return, you will die.  And...never put out a fire with water when you are trying to go unseen.  Use dirt or don't build a fire."

         Nathalya lowered her pistol and then re-holstered it.  She walked backwards until she was standing beside Wells and the strike team.  Toomes had been hiding behind H.M.O. Falson and now came out cautiously. 

         The stalker leader picked up his spear then glanced at each of the travelers.  He then called to two other similarly attired stalkers who ran forward on all fours.

         "These two will see you through the woodland," said the leader.  "This is Bardun and this is Khartha," He pointed to one with brown and black fur and then to the second who gave Nathalya the impression that he was a fierce warrior.  His face was older and scars covered his muscular, silver-furred body.  "They do not speak your language well, so speak simply."

         "Thank you," replied Nathalya.  "And do we get the honor of knowing your name?"

         "I am Chief Nihmet, but do not bother to remember.  If we see each other again, you will be saying it with a dozen arrows in your chest.  Go now and leave our land in has-."

         The chief's words trailed off to silence.  He looked around, his eyes narrowed and his ears perked.  He sniffed the air.  Nathalya and company looked around uneasily, but could see or hear nothing.  Unexpectedly, there was a loud whistle and a crack as a nearby tree splintered and crashed to the ground.

         "Corrinites!" shouted Chief Nihmet, his voice booming.  He then began barking out orders in their native language.

         The battle that ensued that afternoon was fierce. The Corrinites rushed upon the stalkers with a powerful tsunami-like force and would have easily overrun the stalkers on most days, but not this day.  Not with Nathalya and her strike team at the ready. Taking positions alongside the stalkers, they returned fire.

         Gunfire and explosions echoed through the woodland and spooked away all manner of wildlife for several miles. The stalkers' weaponry was primitive, but they knew how to use them to great effect, and soon fell into a rhythm along with Nathalya and her strike team. 

         The stalkers loosed a volley of arrows along with Sergeant Haliday's and Sergeant Ralphael's automatic rifles.  Many of the front-running Corrinites fell, pierced with arrows or shot by powerful rounds.  H.M.O. Falson launched several grenades into the Corrinite offensive, shattering the terrain and anyone who was unlucky enough to be nearby.

         As they Corrinites drew closer, they were met by a horde of stalkers wielding spears or great axes that were swung in wide arcs and cleaving easily through armor.  Nathalya and Wells fought along with them at close range, wielding their pistols with deadly accuracy.  All the while, Shepard had set up in the V of a tree and covered those on the ground.  With her rapid reflexes, keen eyes, and one-shot-one-kill philosophy, she quickly lost track of her kill count - ever a curling smile on her lips. 

         The battle carried on in this fashion for a time, until the Corrinite numbers began to dwindle.  It was then that Nathalya met someone that she did not expect.  She twirled and blinked with a grace of a warrior, wholly in her element.  To watch her work was like watching a deadly and beautiful ballet, her motions as fluid-like as water dripping from one leaf to the next on its journey to the forest floor.

         After a short bout, she found she was completely out of ammunition and tossed her pistols aside in favor of one of the Corrinite rapiers - this one particularly bejeweled and polished. Now with every blink and twirl there was a flash of cold steel followed shortly by a groan as the weapon met its target.

         There was a clack of steel on steel and Nathalya halted.  A wave of shock washed over her as she looked into the face of the man in front of her, their swords locked together.  The snarling features of Lieutenant Harrison were cast in sharp relief as they stood there momentarily, almost equally shocked to find one another.  Nathalya looked down and saw the barrel of his pistol pointed at her stomach.

         The Lieutenant was about to speak when there came a cry from overhead and the body of a dead stalker fell towards the ground.  The corpse knocked Nathalya and Lieutenant Harrison to the ground, and sent the pistol flying out of the Lieutenant's hands. Nathalya scrambled to her feet and kicked the pistol away, pointing her sword at Harrison.

         "I beat you once, girl," he said, getting to his feet.  "I will beat you again!"

         Nathalya was ready for his first move.  She dodged nimbly away when he appeared suddenly behind her and slashed wildly with his blade.  Reading his second move proved slightly more of a challenge.  He seemed to sink into the ground beneath him, and Nathalya jumped back just in time as he appeared overhead and lashed out while dropping back to the ground.

         The next series of motions were too fast for most eyes to translate.  They blinked and struck out at one another several times, twisting and turning, parrying and thrusting.  At the end of the sequence, Nathalya found herself bleeding from a cut on her cheek and across her left arm.  Her jaw and stomach throbbed. Harrison was better off, but still spat blood at his feet.

         "Surrender, girl," he said.  "And I will spare your friends."

         Nathalya remained silent, her lungs gulping in air and her heart beating wildly in her chest.  This only angered Harrison, who charged once more with a shout.  Nathalya blinked, and when Harrison saw her next she was standing a short distance from him, surrounded by four replicas that were exact in appearance.  She and the three illusions blinked and reappeared, so that he lost track of which one was the real Nathalya.

         He jumped forward and attacked one of the Nathalya's.  His blade passed through her, offering no resistance. It disappeared in a flurry of ashes.  Twice more this happened until just Nathalya and one image remained.  He watched their movements, trying hard to catch a sign of the living girl.  When he saw what he was looking for, he struck hard and fast.

         Nathalya anticipated his watchfulness and, when his sword passed harmlessly through the illusion, she was on him. With a blink and a thrust, her rapier passed easily between Harrison's ribs.  She looked into his wide eyes with a cold stare. He grabbed at her hand, but she only plunged the sword deeper into him.  Blood pooled in his mouth and then spilled down his chin. Nathalya supported him as he fell onto his knees, and then onto his side.

         "Your death will come soon enough, girl," he coughed, blood flecking Nathalya's cheek.  His face was contorted in pain and anger, but then his demeanor changed.  "You wield that sword with the grace of your ancestors...grant me the mercy of a swift death."

         "A quick death is more than you deserve," replied Nathalya.  She took a breath.  "But I am no judge or jury."

         Harrison's eyes widened and then closed altogether as Nathalya turned the blade with a sickening crack.  She stood over the body of the dead Corrinite Lieutenant, paying no mind to the sounds of the battle ensuing around her.  Harrison's body then seemed to change.  It grew more and more translucent until there was nothing left there except the rapier that had slain him.  Though he had bled, the blade was as pristine as the day it was wrought.

         Nathalya retrieved the blade and turned to survey the battlefield.  The noises she had heard were not of a waging battle, but the retreat of the Corrinites.  As she followed the running shapes, her eyes came across the stalker chief.  He met her glance and came towards her.

         "Today," he said, and bowed his head low. "You may consider yourself a friend to the stalkers of the Tarrin woodland."

         "Thank you, Chief," replied Nathalya. "I'm sorry for your losses."

         "They died not in vain.  They died honorably. We gladly give many lives for just one of those Corrinite pigs."

         Nathalya returned the bow and walked to meet Wells and the strike team.  They had all received some degree of injury - except for Shepard, who had spent the duration providing covering fire from the tree.  Toomes was mostly unharmed, if still shaken from fright.