Escape From Redeem, Rise of an Emperor

Planet: Earth, Geneva

The Orkra around Bagrak were being cut down in there hundreds. The pale armoured warrior had fought like one of the cursed Elfan. The bite from his sword that was now buried deep within his chest was excruciating to say the least. His fellows sheltered him behind a wall of steel; he was glad of their protection. He felt weaker and weaker by the second, as he was pulled back into the mass of his warriors.

He could just about make out his other flank being assaulted, by a warrior in shiny black plate, who was accomplishing marshal feats that he had never seen from the pink skins before. He had to get his force back into the open where their numbers counted for something. He barked the order that carried over the roars of anguish from his slain kin.

As expected they retreated in good order and even managed to kill a few of the fearsome fighters that threw themselves at their shield with reckless abandon. Soon they would be back in the large square and the carnage would begin.

As he was pondering the slaughter he heard a deafening roar of engines above that hovered over the square, where they had just recently been. A bomb of some description was dropped onto the central mass of Orkra. He watched over the heads of the ones behind, as the warriors in the square were virtually vaporised by the strange bomb that sent a shock wave upwards. Only a hot but gentle wind carried to his position from the blast of the incendiary.

The ship that had dropped the bomb had flown to the rear of the pink skinned warriors that were now attacking his shield wall, and lent them aerial fire that smashed apart the front rank of his defences.

He shouted for the ship to be shot down, and several of his own projectiles hit the aircraft that swerved out of sight in a smoking ruin. It was a pleasant sound when he heard the explosion of the ship in the distance.

Without that aerial support the numbers he still had, outnumbered the attackers ten to one. They would pay for every Orkra life they took from his ranks. Alas, the craft was not alone in this intricately laid trap. His heart sank, as he watched row after row of heavy gunmen emerge from the roof tops.

This pink skinned race could fight after all. Bagrak would still kill as many as he could, so he could buy enough time to receive reinforcements. The guns opened up, and they were thrice as powerful as the ones that he had run into when this trap had begun. His warriors fell all around him; even he took a round to the shoulder which tore his bulging arm clean off.

The streets that should have been awash with red blood were turning a very worrying shade of green. How had he been so stupid to rush into this trickery? He supposed that the pink skins so far, had been very easy sport. The swordsmen that had assailed their shields had disappeared into the refuge of the buildings. Some of his kind tried to follow them in and claim a forlorn revenge. All they managed to achieve in this futile chase was to expose their brother clansmen to the wicked bite of the guns trained on them from every direction.

It was a slaughter and Bagrak, unable to stand any longer, fell and lay on a pile of his kin, with one arm missing, and the rest of his body peppered with holes from the guns of the pinkies. The sword of the pale warrior still protruded from his chest, but he was too weak to do anything about that.

He could hear the enemy closing in around him, their language so similar to the pointy ears they could have been of the same kind. His own gun was still holstered at his side; he made a move to reach down for it. But then he realised it was strapped on the same side as his missing arm, that was now a black and charred mess of torn flesh and bone.

The ghost like warrior, with pink eyes and skin, as pale as the amour he wore, loomed above him and stared with utter contempt. He put his foot on to his chest, and pulled his sword free causing more pain.

He shook his head at him and placed both sword at his neck in a cross shape, and slowly the hot blades seared Bagrak’s flesh. He pulled back and swung them both down in a decapitating stroke, which the war chief did not even feel. Darkness then swallowed his dream of conquest.

Planet: Elfandar

Cael could take this madness no longer. The Elfan Lord was furious after being ignored by his queen. Could they not see the folly of bringing the human boy to this fair realm? All that they had secured was in dire jeopardy, and it was only he that could put a stop to it.

He had given Framlier clear and concise instructions, and he waited for his servant to arrive, to see if those instructions had been carried out to the letter. In truth he should had dealt with something of this gravity himself. But to be caught red handed did not suit him. Framlier was loyal, but fundamentally he was expendable. If they failed to destroy the Dream Caster, then he would make a very fitting martyr to Cael’s cause.

All of a sudden there was frenzied knock at door. Cael crossed his chambers quickly and opened the door. Framlier was covered in blood and dirt, and looked like he was about to break down in tears. He swept inside the grand chambers of his Lord, with the haste of the condemned.

‘What has happened you fool?’

The shaking Framlier sat at one of the many couches. The stain that he would leave there added further to Cael’s annoyance. His servant said nothing and just rocked back and forth in some insane trance. ‘I said what has happened? Speak!’

Cael grabbed his servant by his robes and shook him violently. This seemed to bring him to his senses. ‘Sire I…’

‘Yes.’

‘Sire the Dream Caster is destroyed, as you wished.’ Why did this success feel like a twin edged sword?

’Go on; why are you covered in blood? Cael shouted; he was losing patients fast.

‘I placed the explosives under the device my Lord, when one of the acolytes came into the hall. The timer I set to destroy it was nearly at its end. I just ran for my life and he…’

Framlier chocked on his words as tears began to stream down his dirty blood smeared face.

‘What of the Acolyte Framlier?’ Cael now whispered hauntingly.

‘He is dead my Lord; I barely made it out alive myself. I tried to warn him but he just looked at me bemused. The Hall of Dreams is now destroyed.’

He was only supposed to destroy the Dream Caster, not the whole hall. What a mess he was now in.

‘Did anyone see you come here Framlier?’

Cael was now thinking about damage control. An idea popped menacingly into his scheming head.

’I do not think so my Lord. I was seen at the explosion site, but there were many wounded Elfan there, so I must have just blended into the chaos.

Cael doubted that; there were always watchful eyes around, that was why he did not carry out this task himself. With Elfan dead and wounded he would be in deep trouble, even with his noble title.

‘Come now my friend; rest. The deed is done regardless. I will prepare you some wine from my finest vintage to calm your nerves.’

Framlier nodded his thanks for the much needed refreshment, and lay back onto the couch looking like he might pass out from the day’s trauma. The servant carried no serious wounds. The cuts seemed more or less superficial.It was a mess that needed cleaning up. Framlier sadly, had worn out his service.

Cael opened a cabinet that housed many rare bottles of his beloved wine. He would not waste too good a drop on this idiot, and selected a recent but still very acceptable bottle.

He then discreetly slipped out a small poison vial, and he added a few drops of it, into his servant’s glass.

‘Drink this dear Framlier.’

He downed the glass in one gulp, and tried to rub some of the dirt from his face. It was clearly uncomfortable to be in the presence of his Lord in such a condition. Cael did not have to wait long for his poison to work, as Framlier became short of breath very rapidly.

It did not take long for him to realise what his master had just done. He grabbed hold of his own throat, which must have been constricting at that very moment.

‘My Lord why…?’ It was a reasonable question, and Cael felt obliged to answer him for some strange reason.

‘I thank you for destroying the Dream Caster Framlier; I really do. But your failure would bring shame on our house, and I cannot allow that to happen.’

Cael turned his back on the dying form of his servant, who chocked quietly on the couch. He was always such a good servant. It was just a shame he was a very stupid one.

Now Cael had the unsavoury task of getting rid of his body.

***

Thrakka had enjoyed the human females company. He had never thought it possible to actually like one of his slaves, but this one fascinated him for some reason. She had killed several of her kind on his orders. If she carried on serving him like this, he would ensure she was rewarded. This did not hurt from time to time he mused.

Though a pleasing distraction, Thrakka had far important business to take care of. The attack on the human home world was under way, and reports were coming in on the many successes. The news was not all of victory however. The humans had launched a brutal counter attack, and to Thrakka’s shock, were actually fighting back.

He closed his eyes and chanted for a time, losing himself into nothingness. The Shaman drifted to the human world to see if the exaggerated reports were true.

There was flame and destruction upon the planet’s surface. That much he gathered from his orbital watch. He was about to drift to one of the battles to see how well the human warriors fought, when a powerful pulse caught his attention.

He felt drawn to this pulse, and decided to abandon his over watch of the human conquest, to find the source. Thrakka easily launched his consciousness to where he had felt this disturbance, and stopped when he reached a nebula.

It was a massive cloud of mingled gasses that turned this region of space into a colourful hue, which even he had to admit, was pleasing to the eye. He carried on going into the nebula, and passed through its great depths. Eventually he found himself over a large sparkling planet.

The golden world that the pulse originated from was swarming with ships. The creators of the majestic vessels were very familiar to him, and he basked in his triumph.

Thrakka had searched for this realm for so long, he did not think he would ever find it.

The psychic power that had pulsed like a beacon here must have been powerful indeed for him to notice it, as far away from the source he was.

The timing had been perfect. If he had not been casting among the stars, then he would not have felt the touch of this pulse in his physical state. Thrakka knew however, that there was no such thing as a coincidence. He was destined to be casting his mind above the human planet, at that specific time. The Shaman was also destined to make this wonderful discovery.

He had found them; At last he had found the Elfan.

***

Planet: Redeem, Class A Prison World

The cold of the snow melted on Caleb’s muscled body. The last time he was here, he had looked up into the Wardens eyes, with hatred. He had kept it burning like a furnace, until this moment. He was now free, and behind him were the other inmates that he had liberated from the prison of Redeem. They all wore thick environmental suits, which the guards no longer had a use for. Still they shivered from the hostile temperatures that burned the skin with its icy touch.

Caleb was offered one of these coats; he accepted. It was true that he could now adequately control his own body temperature in extremes such as this. But to stay outside without a coat for long periods was madness, even for him.

Master Kam and Tristen walked from their ship towards him. They were dressed for war, and made quick progress to where Caleb and his band stood to welcome them. The year in captivity had been a hard one he lamented. Another man would have been broken by the tortuous ordeal he had been forced to endure.

Caleb had lost everything that fateful day. His parents had been slaughtered before his very eyes, and now he stood a man a year later. This place had done its work on him well. The beatings and the deaths he’d seen here, had all contributing to the changes inside of him. Tristan could contain himself no longer, as he ran the final gap between them and embraced his friend in a bear hug that Caleb responded back, with the same joyous vigour.

‘You are alive my friend.’

Tristen said emotionally. His amour was ice cold to touch. Caleb was glad of the coat he now wore, that protected his skin from sticking to his best friends armour.

‘How did you find me Tristan?’

‘That is a long story; one best told inside I might add. Never the less it is good to see you brother.’

The cold would have been uncomfortable, even in the high tech amour that Tristen and Master Kam wore.

‘Greetings young one’

Tristen let go of Caleb and patted him a few times on his shoulders, dispelling the frosting snow that had started to settle there. Kam beamed at the son of Dorn Bruce. Caleb’s eyes were drawn to what the Master held. He sunk to his knees at the sight of his father’s sword, crunching the thick snow as he fell.

‘We have come a long way to find you Caleb. It brings me so much joy to see you alive.’

Kam held out the sword reverently to him. Even sheaved the magnificent Traitors Bane was a marvel to behold. The intricate carvings had been painstakingly etched by masters of sword craft. Caleb reached out to claim his father’s most prized possession.

‘He would have wanted you to have this.’ Master Kam added and finally relinquished the sword to him. Caleb took it slowly and scanned the famous sword that was now rightfully his. He pulled the golden blade free and the bright sun made it shine with so much brilliance, it almost seemed magical. All who beheld the scene watched in ore. Those who had not heard of this sword looked on in wonder at what they were seeing.

The blade itself was just as intricately etched as its casing. Caleb did not have to test how keen its edge was, as he scanned the sharpness with an expert eye. Without the power stud activated, it could still cut through almost any amour known to man.

He depressed the stud on its hilt, and the sword glowed in golden brilliance. Its heat made the snow that touched it sizzle and hiss.

’You know what happened to him Master? Caleb did not take his eyes from the gleaming blade as he asked the question.

‘I know enough; I know who did this to you and I know they will pay for it with their lives.’

Caleb dropped his head in sorrow. Long and buried images of his parent’s murder came to mind. Through the entire horror and heart ache he had witnessed; not once had one tear fallen from his cheek- until now.

It was a lonely sorrowful tear that froze before it even reached Caleb’s chin. It would be his last tear, he promised himself. He stood and held the mighty weapon for all to behold. The assembled inmate’s cheered in unison for the one who had liberated them.

‘Young Bruce, I have some armour on board that ship that would attire you more appropriately.’

Caleb looked back to Tristen and Kam and smiled grimly. He could not wait to dress for war, and begin his vengeance. ‘Yes my friend; and a bath would not be out of the question first either.’

Tristan added sarcastically. Caleb roared with laughter at his friends words. It was true, he must have smelled terrible. He could always rely on his best friend to bring him crashing back down to earth.

‘I am glad this experience has not dulled any of your jests.’

‘It has not. Come let us go inside and out of this dammed cold.’ Tristan said. Caleb turned to a rough looking man covered in tattoos.

‘Mr Montoya, would you be so kind and assemble all of the men into the canteen? I will be there shortly after I reacquaint myself with my friends here. We have some preparations to make before we leave this world.’

The Mine Hound number two did not hesitate in carrying out Caleb’s instructions.

‘You heard the man, back inside everyone!’

Montoya shouted like a drill sergeant back at the academy. Caleb felt he could definitely use this man. The men shuffled off obediently, leaving the three to return to the ship.

‘I see I have come to late young Bruce. You do not need rescuing at all.’

‘Never the less, I am glad you are here. Let us continue this inside, shall we. I can see Tristan killing over any minute in this cold.’

That earned a playful jab from Tristan’s gauntleted fist. It was good to be among friends once again.

Once on the ship Caleb was shown to a bathing room, where he washed off the grime that had built up on his skin for the past year. Tristen was right, he did stink. He placed his father’s sword down and stripped away his snow covered coat and cloths. It was not an overly luxurious bathroom, but more of a functional one. He looked at his naked form in a mirror, before it became obscured in the steam from the shower.

He admired his form fleetingly. The dirt around his muscled physic emphasised the aesthetic beauty, he had paid no heed to for a while. Caleb stepped into the shower and luxuriated, as the warm and toasty water, rinsing away the filth on him.

The water felt like it was cleansing him body and soul; like a baptism into a new body.

He had come to this world a boy. He would leave it a man. Caleb spent a long time under those waters. It helped him think about his next move.

Caleb would not take orders from anyone now. Even President Black would have to answer some questions, before he swore allegiance. This place had made him, an extremely untrusting man.

He dried himself quickly, and walked into an adjoining bed chamber that was just as functional as the bathroom was. One bunk, a desk and some draws were all that furnished this room. On the bed however was something quite extraordinary. The gleaming golden plate of his father’s armour, shone like a star going supernova. It caught the light from above, and reflected it around the room, turning the ordinary chambers into a thing of wonder.

Next to the war plate was a flexible undergarment that he dressed in eagerly. Caleb hesitated before putting on the armour that now belonged to him by right. After so long in bondage; all of these knew gifts seemed unreal. He put it on, piece by piece, until he was fully clad in its protective shell. He walked to the mirror and looked at his reflection. It was one he did not recognise.

His brown wavy hair was long now. He tied it up with some leather cord that lay on the chambers desk. Caleb looked neither like his father nor mother. There were characteristics from them both. Now fully dressed for war, he was a vision of majesty that would be a sight for all who had wronged him.

He made his way to the cockpit, where Master Kam and Tristan sat at a table, and poured hot tea into a third waiting cup. They both looked up at Caleb, who was now transformed from a dirt caked inmate, to an angel of redemption in a matter of an hour.

Both men stood slowly and solemnly, their eyes held in astonishment at the vision before them. Caleb had his father’s sword sheathed and fixed at his side. He closed his eyes to inhale the sweet smelling brew of tea that waited for him.

‘Truly you are the son of Dorn young Bruce. But perhaps you are not so young any longer.’

Caleb opened his eyes and looked at the Master steadily. ‘Master Kam, do you know why I was created?’ It was a strange question but Kam answered truthfully.

‘You were to lead us, should our President stand down.’ Caleb nodded and said.

‘I do not know who has done this to me and my family, or why. But I assume it was done because of what I am. I ask you now my friends; if you know who has done this, I beg you to tell me.’

Kam and Tristan told Caleb the full account of how they had investigated the family’s disappearance, right up to the betrayal by Guy Kruger and the possible inclusion of General Defoe. Caleb listened to them without word; his mood calm. He would channel his hate, now that he had a name to focus it on.

Caleb told them about his time at the prison. He went on to tell of Tongs tragedy, and his meeting with the alien Elfan, who warned him of the war like foe coming to Earth.

Finally he told them of his eventual takeover of the entire prison. They both laughed when he told them that the Warden was now stuck in the very cell that Caleb had recently been a resident of.

‘So my friends; we appear to be at a tipping point in history.’ Caleb said after drinking the entire pot of sweet tea.

‘I do not know what awaits us back on Earth, but I wish to go back and get some answers. Will you follow my madness? I would understand if you wished to choose different paths.’

It was Tristan who answered for them both. ‘Caleb, we have flown across half the galaxy to rescue your worthless hide. Of course we will follow you.’

Kam bent down on one knee, as did Tristan.

‘Until we know what has become of our President, I will follow you also. I will guide you, if I may. Together we will punish the schemers who have done this. You have my solemn oath.’

‘You have mine also.’ Tristen confirmed passionately. They both stood and drew swords, touching the tips together in the classic way of the Elite Guard, when oaths were made.

‘Caleb, we have brought weapons and armour with us. It’s enough to equip your new friends in there. Do you trust them to wield such war gear?’

Master Kam asked expectantly. They would need a small army if they were to stop Kruger and his minions back on Earth. They may even need to fight an alien invader, when they returned back home.

‘They will need some basic training, but I see little choice in the matter Master. Plus we will need more ships, if we are to return with an army.’ Kam and Tristen looked at each other and smiled.

‘That will not be a problem. We have taken the liberty of requesting the help from the commander of Regiment 1. Hopefully they should be here in a matter of days.’ Kam said optimistically. ‘Is Lord Ignatius with them?’

Caleb truly hoped he was. With Lord Ignatius and his famous Regiment in tow, they would be a difficult force to defeat.

‘Yes, Sabastian is with them. He was trying to recruit more men when we left him. If he succeeded, then ships won’t be a problem.’ Kam reassured. They all put away their swords and Caleb added. ’Then we better start training the inmates straight away.