Call of the Watch Crow, Part-2

Recap part 1: The V’lusian warlord Zahnak was usurped by The Poison Hoard. His slave armies were routed. Kall-Ku, a mercenary slave, incidentally freed by the violence, fled across the wilderness; a subdermal implant has become active and gave him instructions, directing him to find the Meinor space station so that he can join the struggle of contra-tyrannical forces. All, under a distraction caused by the unrelated conflict of two starfaring Empires.

Starships continue trading volleys in the night sky, and giant, roving hover tanks have appeared dominating distant horizons. Kall-Ku has been ambushed by vicious bioroid assassins, called Piranha-women.

Kall-Ku, struggled to keep his balance as the deadly Piranha-woman dug into his flesh with razor sharp teeth and acid-dripping metallic claws. His tattered mail and ballistics armor was doing little to protect him against the gruesome attack that caught him with panther-like speed and precision.  In the span of a heartbeat the Piranha-women would all be on him. Against their numbers he would have no chance. With iron resolve, he dove off the stone trail into the black ooze of the toxic swamp, taking the savage cannibal down into the slime.

The bio-engineered killer slowed her carnivorous onslaught as thick sludge filled her mouth and lungs.  Each bit of flesh pulled free from the mercenary-slave’s neck and shoulders only succeeded sucking in more muck. The bioroid’s design and oxygen efficiency would normally have guaranteed victory in an aquatic setting…especially against a human, but the radioactive muck indiscriminately cooked her organs, gutting the bio-predator from within.

Reaching behind his head with his good arm, Kall-Ku grabbed the side of the weakened killer’s face, struggling to keep the deadly teeth away from his spine. Moments counted as the warrior dug into the resistant flesh with powerful fingers and squeezed. Frantically gnawing and clawing to keep her advantage, the muck did its work, overtaking the deadly killer with toxic filth. The numbness in his arm quickly faded as adrenaline pumped through his system. He finally regained use of the incapacitated limb. Reaching back and digging in with his other hand, he squeezed with all his war-hardened might; bone and sinew gave way to his crushing grip; the thing’s joints popped and bones broke within his unrelenting grasp. Somewhere in the muddy darkness the bloodthirsty huntress gave up, let go, stopped fighting; lifeless, the genetic assassin drifted down, into the darkness.

Kall-Ku quickly descended to the swamp bottom, wrapping his powerful fingers around roots that ran throughout the silt like veins. Hand over hand he pulled himself through the black murk; His axe dragging like an anchor behind, still held to his belt by a heavy chain; the body of his attacker glued to the bottom by the heavy slodder.  The dark ooze hid him from the view of bloodthirsty women who harangued the marsh edge, probing into and away from the lutulent broth, waiting for the battle’s outcome.

At the base of a tree, he rose slowly, only enough to take a shallow breath through his broad, flat nose forcing himself to remain otherwise still. He could see the elite savages searching the area where their sister fell. The only evidence of the battle was a dark slick of blood, dissipating into the broo. They lost him…at least for now. Submerging, he repeated the tactic of bottom crawling again and again, until he was far from his pursuers.

Emerging from the mud, Kall-ku noticed the slave tattoos that encircled his wrists and forearms were virtually  invisible behind smears of drying clay; for a moment he pretended that they were gone altogether, that he had never been property of Zahnak’s war stable.  He stumbled back to the trail, acutely aware of the seriousness of the wounds; he winced as he imagined what infection may be growing there. Without aid it promised incapacitating delirium and then death. He needed fresh water and clean bandages before that happened.

Evening was disrupted again and again by exploding shells far behind him, but getting closer. Explosions seemed to shake the earth, even from miles away. Without warning a wounded aircraft shot out from above the trees and rocketed out of sight ahead of him; black smoke was trailing from its fuselage. It disappeared over the horizon. His subdermal chip identified it as a Consortium: Lorik Class Fighter. There was a distant explosion and a faint pyre of black smoke became visible where the craft went down.

Grabbing his axe and falling into a crouch he heard snarling in the distance. Scanning the area carefully he saw a large black dog with spikes protruding from its shoulders and quills lying in a bush at the tip of its cat-like tail. A War-Shuck… he recognized it. They were genies, the same as the Piranha-women and Ravenian War-Mavens, bio engineered for battlefield use. Unlike the others, these creatures had been in use by the slave armies of Zahnak  It was glutting itself on a fallen soldier, more interested in the meal in front of it than Kall-Ku. He rose and cautiously, moved on. So long as he didn’t provoke it, it should not attack.

***

Kall-Ku looked up, above the horizon. Two large objects plummeted downward. Thick smoke followed in the disruption behind them, evidencing their violent penetration of the atmosphere, like bullets being fired into a tranquil pool. They were crash pods. The ground trembled as they struck the surface, far off beyond the horizon, ahead of him.

The first moon was already visible in the evening sky, and the light show of orbital battle was already in full display. Kall-Ku exhaled a criticizing hiss, anticipating the arrival of the second moon, and with it—night…dread filled him. That meant nocturnal predators, maybe even the War-Shuck from before, now finished with one meal and hungry for another. Wounded, he would be easy to hunt. In the dark predators could more easily tear him down. He knelt and from his canteen poured a handful of clean water, splashing it across the torn flesh on his neck and shoulders, washing the blood away as best he could. He drank the small bit that remained. Scooping up a handful of mud, he covered the injuries, attempting to mask the scent of his blood. Kall-Ku’s nostrils flared in response to the dull throbbing pain which seemed to emanate from deep beneath the wound. What he would give for a thorny gourd-berry bush right now, its fist-size seeds full of clean water. He could cleanse his wounds and sate his thirst. No such fortune here. He wouldn’t risk using natural remedies in this place, anyway; it would be too easy to become poisoned on the tainted fruit of this swamp, irradiated by a history festooned by violent conflict. He trudged forward.

[End of part two…look for part three, next week]

*** Have not read part 1. Here it is again. https://scaldcrow.com/?p=655(opens in a new tab)