Headmaster Fallon Gale is staring at the message in his hand. He’s read it a dozen times and it gets no better with repetition.
Settlements along the northern border are being destroyed with no survivors. This has been occurring inside the badlands between North and South Cenoka for decades. No treaty defines the badlands or declares it off limits. The people from the two continents didn’t want to mix and naturally kept away from one another. The governments of North Cenoka have rebuffed every attempt at trade for thousands of years. Nobody even tries to contact them anymore. The badlands are there as a mutually agreed upon separation of states.
Humans being humans will occasionally under stress produce children of old blood. Their violent nature and lust for conquest seems to lead them to the badlands. Many of them find the untamable land between the north and south appealing. Those lost children, as they are frequently referred to, take to the badlands and pair off as wives and husbands and try to start families and carve out a living while battling the harsh environment they find there.
Reports of destroyed settlements in the badlands are written off as old blood being old blood, slaughtering one another is what they do. This report is different, the settlers on the borders aren’t old blood looking for conquest, they are your average poor families looking for an inexpensive place to settle down. If it were the lost children preying on them there would be signs. For starters they would move into the newly vacated buildings fulfilling their urge to conquer and settle.
The reports are disturbing in the methods used to kill. Most of the adults are dying of combat wounds. The children and some adults are being killed as a ritual. Hearts are cut out of chests, from all appearances while the victims are alive. The hearts are not found, maybe collected as trophies. The corpses are then mutilated and used to decorate the burned-out ruins that were once their homes. Nothing is taken, their homes are destroyed, then they are ritualistically killed and mutilated. No sign of who or what is doing this is left behind.
Fallon needs eyes on the ground but can’t spare the manpower. He already has two defenders in the field, and neither will be able to return for weeks. Of his remaining staff only, Master Talyah has the power to fly, dispatching the others would take too long. Waiting is out of the question, this is a clear danger that needs to be addressed to protect the innocent lives along the border. This is the last place he would send her; she is both nervous and timid, she’s an academic first, much like Master Robles.
There is only one other option. He rereads the report to put off making the decision. Reading the final line where they request immediate assistance, he sets the paper down on his desk. He rings for a page and waits for whoever is on duty to answer.
The young girl with yellow hair, Sanne, enters and waits for him to speak.
“Will you ask Master Robles to attend me in my office at his earliest convenience?”
Sanne leaves at once without uttering a word. It’s never a good sign when the headmaster stays up half the night staring at a single report and then calls for his first advisor.
The sun wouldn’t rise for another three hours. Master Robles, like the rest of the study’s occupants, was sound asleep.
Awakened by a knock at his door, a sound that he’s heard all too many times over the years to cause panic, Master Robles rolls out of bed and answers his door to receive the message. He pulls on fresh clothes with an efficiency honed over time by wearing the same uniform for the better part of 50 years.
Outside his door the page, Sanne waited patiently for the three minutes Master Robles required to prepare for his early morning audience with Headmaster Gale. She didn’t need to escort Master Robles; her curiosity was getting the better of her and she wanted to know what was happening.
Now outside the Headmasters door, and trusted to not listen to their conversation, she sits back in her chair and waits for the sound of a bell.
Inside the office, Headmaster Gale allows Master Robles to read the report and digest its contents.
After several readings, Paras Robles speaks, “This is terrible. Do you think North Cenoka is invading?”
“Free’er no, of course not. If it was an invasion there would be a million stone sword wielding savages flooding our borders. Those people do nothing on a small scale. Empires rise and fall every hundred years, they do life and death on a scale we can’t imagine here in South Cenoka. No, this is no invasion. An incursion for sure, but no invasion. I expect a small sect, with no room to go north, has decided that south is easy pickings.”
“When will Terius return?”
“He’s escorting a student with unusual potential from Brusk Valley and will not be here for several weeks.”
“That leaves Master Talyah as the only Defender you can send in time to be of use.”
“You and I both know that would not work out. She is competent in many matters, but her naivety will make her useless in this situation. I wish it were not so, or I could send her knowing this would force her to grow. I don’t want to break her when we are already stretched thin.”
Paras sits silent for a moment as he works through their options. “You can’t be thinking what I think you are thinking.”
“By your tone, I’m afraid you’ve figured out exactly what I’m thinking.”
“You took the job as headmaster because you knew you had a competent team to execute your will. You’ve not been in the field in 30 years. Do you even remember how to fly? For that matter when was the last time you used your gift to do more than light a candle?”
“We both know that we’ve leaned on Terius for more than we should. His natural gifts and dedication to training has made him one of the greatest Defenders of all time. It was he that rediscovered flying and taught Hale and me. Maybe it’s time I step up and put that to work. I have no intention of engaging with whoever is perpetrating this horror. Their overwhelming success in attacking these settlements proves there are people with the gift involved. I’m a competent fighter, you spar with me. Unless you’ve been holding back, I think I’m still field ready. What say you to that?”
“I can take over running your office while you do this, but know this; if you die, I am not going to take over as headmaster. I belong in the classroom as much as Terius belongs in the field. You had better return.”
Headmaster Fallon Gale prepares to fly on an investigative mission. This will be his first field deployment in almost 30 years. His preparations took him over an hour. He had to look up his notes on how to dress before flying. Double knotting, securing every piece of clothing that may flap in the wind. Double checking weapons for readiness as well as securing them so they won’t break free in flight. He took so many notes in his youth that the older him is both impressed and amused. Many are redundant, but only because of their importance. There were multiple warnings about maintaining altitude for comfort and safety. He found four separate paragraphs emphasizing the importance of knowing landmarks before you leave. After the third one he rings for a page to fetch maps of the northern tip of South Cenoka.
Fallon spends another hour pouring over maps and re-reading the report to pinpoint his intended destination. He identifies seven landmarks. Each should be three to four hours travel if he manages to fly at his previous average speed, which was around 300 miles an hour or two times free-fall speed. He can’t imagine what Terius must experience when he breaks the sound barrier, and marvels at what that man has achieved. His route isn’t direct, but he chose landmarks that he shouldn’t be able to miss over ones that he could overshoot and waste days finding.
Hours later Paras accompanies his headmaster to the roof to see if he can talk him out of making this trip. The flying is one thing, he won’t get hurt. He’s a competent man with no small amount of the gift and the talent to use it. He was once the top operator of Mammatus after all. It’s the 30 years of office work that changes the way you think. He’s going into a situation where action will beat planning, violence will out work diligence.
From the rooftop, Headmaster Fallon Gale makes a textbook perfect take off. Adjusts his direction and shoots towards his first landmark.
It’s only noon and Paras Robles feels tired, his pale red eyes puffy from more than lack of sleep. His gut told him to stop his old friend, but how? Tell him he’s not good enough, not competent? He couldn’t because Fallon is good enough and he is competent. Only time will tell, Paras takes a deep meditative breath to clear his mind and reset his thoughts before moving on to the headmaster’s office to begin his work.
Having reached his ideal cruising altitude, approximately, he has no way to tell for sure. Fallon works on lining up two landmarks along his route. It’s the same when hiking through wilderness. Pick two points along your intended path and keep them aligned. When you’re close to the first point, line up a third to take its place. This is his first flight in decades, he plans to keep his speed to what gravity dictates. He’s made himself as aerodynamic as possible with the gear strapped about his person. He will likely be covering 150 miles per hour. He’ll have a better idea of his speed when he reaches his first checkpoint on his planned route.
His goal for the day is to reach the town of Bearupper on the northern end of the Eastern Expanse. A small somewhat remote town, easily spotted from air as they smelt ore and have a dozen or more 40-yard-tall smokestacks to keep the ground air breathable. He’s met with agreeable smiles as this is an area that is under Mammatus protection, and they’ve had need of assistance on more than one occasion. He arrived only half an hour later than he’d hoped. His speed is close enough to what he expected, there is no need to make adjustments.
Day two, he aims to reach Gateland, to hit this goal he increases his speed to twice that of freefall. He’s expecting to cover 800 miles by midday. Other than stopping to re-secure his pack because of strap that became loose, this leg of his journey went exactly as planned.
He stopped in Gateland for an hour to visit a water closet and have a cup of coffee on the waterfront. The ocean never appealed to him. Staring out over its endless expanse now does nothing to change that. Finishing his drink, he walks to an open area of a park and launches himself back into the air, creating a mild commotion as seeing someone who can fly is very rare. Many who tell the story won’t be believed.
He ends the day on the tip of Long Bay, the third of his seven landmarks. An early start the next morning sees him to his fourth and fifth landmarks with no incident. In another day he’ll reach the badlands and the real work will begin.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Maybe he’s procrastinating, maybe the toll of exerting his spirit to fly is sapping his strength, but the fourth day has him sleeping late and putting off becoming air born. He knows his body has gone soft, but his mind is resolved, and he puts himself back in the air and reaches landmark six early and presses on to the final mark without stopping.
The small cliched town of Paradise is the last stop before the badlands. Discover a land with the most inhospitable environment, without fail someone will want to live there and call it Paradise. He briefly wonders if that town name is part humanities inborn inheritance of knowledge placed by their creator, or irony and human nature.
Landing just outside of town on the main approach he flares some electromagnetic energy to let the local Sherrif know he’s arrived. The Sherrif, Phin tried to become a Defender but didn’t have the strength. He can hold and release enough energy to be measurable, but not enough to be of use. An anemic pulse from the north beckons Fallon to enter town.
Master Fallon Gale walks stiffly into the small four building town of Paradise where he’s greeted by the sheriff. Who upon failing to become a Defender moved back to his place of birth and made himself Sherrif. He is the closest thing to a government for hundreds of miles. His word is law, thankfully he’s fair minded and doesn’t make more trouble than he fixes.
“Phin, it’s been too long since we’ve talked, what’s it been 12 years?”
“At least 12, old buddy. I’m surprised to see you out here. I thought you had some stud that did your dirty work for you.”
Fallon takes offense at Phin’s choice of words, “If you’re referring to Terius. The work he does is tough, not dirty.”
“Forgive me buddy, we speak rougher than necessary out here. I didn’t mean to insult anyone.” Phin changing subjects continues, “What do you think of my report?”
“It’s disturbing. How many settlements have been slaughtered?”
“Four multifamily and 17 ranches. We don’t take a census out here, but counting body parts leads me to believe we’ve lost around 150 people in the past month. I’d say there’s an invasion from the north, but I can’t find any army.”
“I’m here to investigate. Like you said, I have Terius for the dirty work. He’s busy elsewhere, until he’s available I’m doing the advance work of gathering intelligence. Can you take me to the most recent site of an attack?”
“Of course, another site was hit only 16 miles from here, three days ago, well after my last report was submitted. We didn’t clean up the bodies. The scavengers got there first and picked the bones clean before we found them. There won’t be much soft evidence remaining undisturbed, but I’m sure you’ll see something I missed, you a trained Defender and me a lowly Sheriff.”
Fallon lets the dig go and motions for the sheriff to lead on. Phin fetches a covered wagon pulled by a pair of thin inu.
“Before you say anything about them, they look thin because we keep them sheared short and tight up here. They’d overheat in an hour if we allowed their coat to grow out like you southerners do.”
Again, Fallon lets it go, short hair, long hair, he shouldn’t see their ribs so clearly.
The wagon bumps along at a good pace, after two hours they arrive at a site barely recognizable as habitable. No structure was left standing, everything was burned to the foundations. There appeared to have been two homes, suggesting multiple generations, and three barn structures. The largest would have been to house livestock in bad weather and possibly overnight. The smaller would have been for equipment and supplies. Other smaller burnt structures might have been coops or feed stalls.
The bones were scattered, picked clean, stained but meatless. Torn bloody clothes tell the story of brutal wounds that bludgeon as well as cut. This does suggest the attackers are from the north. Their customary weapon called a macuahuitl, is a wooden club with obsidian blades embedded in the edges. Ineffective against any metal protection, brutal against unprotected flesh.
The thoroughness of fire suggests the gift or chemical accelerants are in use. After three days, no odor remains to indicate the later.
Signs on the ground tell more of a story. This was a brawl, an unorganized skirmish, nothing indicates a trained force moved through the area. Signs of combat are mostly two on one, showing a planned ambush at the most. The assaulting force were wearing soft soled footwear, they’d be stealthy. There are threads from black cloth snagged on items that had been used as make-shift weapons. By all accounts the settlers inflicted some damage of their own but were outnumbered in the end. The weapons found consisted of one Calvary Saber, a multi-purpose shovel, and two machetes. Besides those, there was a bloody plank of wood, a broom stick, and a kitchen kettle; also showing signs of use as weapons.
Fallon enlisted a reluctant Phin in rounding up all the pelvic bones they could find, to get an accurate count of man, woman, and children killed. There were likely four adult pairs with an average of four children per family. The ages of the children were hard to tell, half were under the age of five. The rest were between six and adulthood, or thirteen years old.
The only other evidence to note is the lack of trace evidence left behind. Whoever did this want’s their identity kept a secret.
On the ride back to Paradise, “Sheriff, this is your territory, who do you think is doing this?”
Phil didn’t answer right away, he seemed to be weighing his options before responding, “This is thin, mind you, I mean really thin. There’s been rumor of a cult forming out in the badlands, made up of lost children from both the north and south. The rumor has it that they found some old-world magic that makes them invulnerable. Not finding any bodies, backs that up don’t you think?”
“Decisive victories with overwhelming force will grant you that same result,” counters Master Gale.
“True, but some of these settlers have some strong gifts of their own. You’d think one of them would survive and get the word out. Let’s not forget, this just reached the border, we don’t know how long they’ve been terrorizing the badlands inhabitants.”
“All that is true, but I’ve seen what I came to see. I’ll be leaving in the morning. I’ll be back personally with two others. To hunt these savages down.”
“That’s welcome news. How long will that be?”
“Maybe a month, sooner possibly.”
“I was hoping for sooner, but these attacks are getting close to home. I’ll take whatever assistance you can afford.”
The rest of the trip was quiet. Both parties are contemplating the possibility that these are lost children with some new weapon. It’s been a thousand years since a warlord marched in South Cenoka. The problem with such a rise up is they spread like a disease. As each new region is assaulted, rising stress levels in the local population can trigger them to produce their own generation of lost children. A cycle that can perpetuate for centuries before burning itself out.
The sheriff doesn’t have a guest room, nor the town a hotel. They don’t get visitors or many travelers. There are only four buildings, two on each side of the road. The sheriff has a home he shares with a wife, his brother, and five children. There’s a feed store which is the only reason the town exists; it’s run by the sheriff’s sister. She lives in the loft above the store. Next to her store is a warehouse to store her large inventory items. The last building is the sheriff’s jail, that will be Master Gales room for the night.
Only slightly uneasy at the open cell door, he falls asleep with little trouble.
Hours later, a scream awakens Fallon.
He jumps out of bed and moves to the lone window in the front of the building. Outside, the warehouse and feed store are already ablaze. Dark shapes dart across the street towards the sheriff’s home and the jail.
Cursing himself, Master Gale returns to his bedside and grabs up a sword. If these are lost children with obsidian weapons, they’ll be no match for him, and a sword will be the quickest and most merciful way to put them down.
He steps from the building as something bursts against its side, soaking the jail in oil. Someone with the gift ignites it. Master Gale ignores the jail and reaches out for the blazing home next to him. He starts pulling on the massive thermals at its core, it’s more than he can take all at once. He starts jettisoning the excessive thermals straight up. The fire dwindles to half its previous size but does not go out. Something blunt is swinging towards his back. He prepares to absorb the kinetic energy from the blow.
His back explodes in savage agony as the stone obsidian blade bites into his flesh. The attacker drags his macuahuitl downward, stripping flesh from his back. Surprised but not shocked by the sudden pain, Master Gale swings his sword backhanded and slashes the throat of the dark clad attacker. His back is on fire from exposed flesh matted with his tattered shirt. Three more shadowy figures dart towards him. He sends a wall of kinetic energy towards them, head height to take them down hard. All three wave their macuahuitl’s and the kinetic energy is dispersed as it strikes their weapons.
Surprised again but still with enough experience dealing with the unexplainable to not hesitate, Master Gale hits them again, with fire and kinetic from every direction, relentlessly. Invisible rods of kinetic energy stabbed at heads, knees, and exposed flanks. They tried standing back-to-back guarding from every side, but one by one his attacks would score hits until they went down.
Fallon Gale looks back to the burning home and returns to venting the fire into the atmosphere. He sees what must by Phin’s family running from the rear of the home. Peering into the darkness beyond he spots an ambush waiting for them. He jumps in their direction and fast travels ahead to meet the ambush head on.
Engaging the first dark clad foe to stand up. His sword cleaves through the stone weapon as he would expect. They may have some strange properties but stronger than steel isn’t one of them. His body suddenly feels dozens of points of potential energy. The foe he was engaging drops his shattered macuahuitl and drops to the ground. Remembering the lesson of that first attack, he expects these to be stone tipped arrows with the same properties. He readies another kinetic attack and looses it in a circle around himself.
The arrows fly, the spinning whirlwind of kinetic energy orbiting his body knocks away and shatters the shafts of 23 arrows. The other 13 make contact and bury themselves deep in his body. Enraged, he blasts another wave of kinetic through the ground, sending his attackers and the fleeing family to the ground. He stops thinking in terms of large blasts and starts sending pinpoints of energy into every shadowy figure that tries to move. Holes the size of his finger explode through heads, hearts, legs, arms, whatever body part he sees. They wave their obsidian weapons, but the thin shots of energy are too fast and small to stop.
Master Gale has lost a lot of blood but sees no more attackers and stops.
Phin and his family, along with his brother are calling out for the sister. Huddled together they cross the street to look for her. A muffled response from the direction of her blazing warehouse indicates she may be safe as well.
He takes a moment to inventory his wounds. His back is still oozing blood. There are more than a dozen arrows protruding from his body. Obsidian arrow tips slicing his internals with every breath, he won’t be flying home in the morning… if ever.
At least the family was saved.
A woman’s scream cuts through the night, followed by another, children shriek, and he can hear Phin yelling in defiance before being cut off. One by one the children fall silent.
Waves of black clad foes advance from the surrounding darkness into the circle of light radiating from the burning warehouse. He found the army. There must be a full complement of 1,000 in this group. He feels hundreds of points of potential energy aimed his way as they prepare to fire a volley of those deadly arrows at him.
What happened next was confusing and hard to remember later. An object emitting a blinding light descended from the sky. Looking at it was out of the question. He knew instinctively that there was more light energy than he could hope to capture and exposing his eyes would mean blindness. The object was making a sound, a deep thrumming, like thunder but perfectly pitched like music. His bones rattled with the ensuing vibrations as did the obsidian arrowheads, increasing the pain they caused. He felt the object get closer to him, there was no heat, only the blinding light that washed over him until he felt numb. A mixture of terror and astonishment battled for control of his mind, leaving him more confused than in either of the aforementioned mental states.
Forgotten are the hundreds of arrows that are no longer pointing at him. The attacking army is in full retreat in a fit of terror from not adverting their eyes and in their aggressive manor they assessed this unknown threat. It hit every primitive signal in their violence first programed brains, it said run or perish. The primitive message was clear and irresistible, retreat was their only choice.
Master Gale realized the light was dimming and his ears were no longer ringing and his bones no longer shaking. He thinks he hears a voice.
“Do not be afraid, I am only a messenger.”
Master Fallon Gale passes out.