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The Crusaders 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Eleven years before Episode IV - A
New Hope Is the Afterlife a forest by the ocean? He thought. He lay on his back with the sensation of not really being in his
own body, as if his spirit hovered over it and was waiting impatiently to
return to its rightful place. He could not feel his limbs or move them, that
ugly feeling of numbness seemed to be all over his form. He knew he was not dead when he felt the warm stirrings of pain
in his lower back and at the back of his neck. That warmth soon became
irritable, but it seemed to ignite the rest of his body to some form of
feeling. He tried to move an arm, and grimaced as pain shot through his
shoulder and exploded in his head. His mouth was dry and his lips were
cracked. Stars winked at him from above, through the gaps in the forest
roof. The waxing moon cast a thin beam of light which made him blink as
leaves and branches swung in front of it in a light wind that passed through
the trees. He pressed his hand against his head and took a deep breath,
trying to get his thoughts in order. The King had called the charge as they sighted the Janos
Executioners camp on the beach. The defenders of Chinngard drew weapons and
advanced in an orderly fashion, but when the King had dug his stirrups into
his mount's flanks they had just ran forward waving their blasters and
cursing the invaders. The King's Tauntaun sliced through weak, quickly
erected defences at the tree line and ridden directly into the half-built
camp. His generals and men-at-arms were at a loss at the King's actions,
calling for men and riding behind him. All the men had taken heart and had fought hard for... That thought made him wince. What was he here for again? He
wasn't sure, but he knew it had something to do with his friend Esoum... "Hey, Pede!"
Esoum shouted. "Pede, over here!" Pede turned his head at the shout, searching the crowds of
beings to put a face to the voice. In one of the crowds further down the
landing bay he saw Esoum, his plump face all smiles as he approached, an old
blaster in one hand and a red tabard in the another. Esoum almost bounded over as he locked eyes with his friend Pede
and squeezed past the men in the bay to get to him. The landing bay of the orbital station over Chinngard was large
enough to pack in an army, but the amount of beings that swarmed over the
place threatened to burst the walls asunder. The King was summoning his
people to fight in this war with Janos, which had lasted now for nearly four
years. Men and boys had come to place their mark on the King's roster to
swear fealty and die in the name of King Theogis of Chinngard, although, to
be truthful, most of them had just come to swear fealty. All around the two friends were long lines of warriors; farmers,
craftsmen and glory seekers who had answered their King's hail and were
waiting to join the ranks. As a mark was made, a red tabard was handed to the
prospective soldier. Many of the King's men had already died in the war and
resources were low, so many of the men had bought their own weapons. Brothers
and sons and cousins and nephews talked of their intentions in the coming
battle, most of which were boisterous and highly exaggerated. Although the
meaning for this gathering was grisly the atmosphere felt quite jubilant. Esoum held out an arm and Pede grasped his wrist fiercely,
pulling him closer so that he could grab his shoulder. Esoum returned the
grip. "Esoum! What
brings you to this madness?" Pede said loudly, trying to talk over the
elevated volume of voices all around him. "Madness?"
Esoum smiled cockily. "Ah, it would be madness not to come. Every able
man is here to fight for the King. I'm surprised to see you here, though.
Surprised your father allowed you off his estate." Pede screwed up his mouth and grimaced. His long face was
troubled and he ran his long fingers through his long dark hair. He smoothed
down the front of his red tabard and looked at his boots. Esoum's smile faded to be replaced by a smirk. His short messy
hair fell in ringlets over his eyes and he brushed them away. "I don't believe
it," he said when he saw that Pede wasn't going to volunteer any
information. "The old Duke does know your here, yes?" "No, he
doesn't," Pede said plainly. "You know as well as I do he would not
approve." "Your his only
son, Pede, you should have said something." Pede suddenly smiled and threw up his arms. "Well, I'm here
now, so lets just think of the battle, yes?" "And you never
even went in as an officer," Esoum shook his head, casting his eyes over
Pede's unadorned tabard. "You're supposed to be the son of a Duke,
Pede." "Look," Pede
said heatedly, "I'm here to fight, not lead. I just needed to get away
from him and his pampering. I'm not a child anymore..." "He's just worrying
about you..." "He's suffocating
me. I'm a grown man, and he still chides and talks to me like I'm still
messing myself." Esoum sighed heavily. It was true, Pede's father was incredibly
overbearing, his attitude towards his only son embarrassed visitors to the
halls of the Duke's mansion, and Esoum remembered occasions where guests
would frown, make excuses and leave when the Duke started to talk to Pede as
if he was still learning to walk. Looking at his son with doughy eyes.
Talking in a patronising tone, the way a nursemaid talks to a child when he
has spilt his food. Pede's mother had died giving birth to his younger brother and
now lay entombed with the rest of the their clan on the estate. Pede's
brother had died in the same bed, crying for a mother who would never hear
her son's first wails. The physicians were at a loss as to why the child had
expired. Pede's father seemed to have withered, and the strong man everyone
had known had receded, changing into a small man with little time for matters
his title demanded he attend to. His attitude towards his son had changed,
too, as if he feared that this child would also be torn from him. Pede immediately regretted the way the conversation had started;
Esoum also knew the pain of losing a child and was trying to look at the
situation at the estate objectively and with much compassion for Pede's
father, whilst Pede had become the petulant child he hated his father for
treating him as and spoke defiance against his bloodline. In both their twenty-two years the men had been fast friends,
but since Pede's father had changed Esoum had become less involved with the
family, causing them to spend less and less time with each other. Esoum, the
son of the master-at-arms on the estate, had felt out of place in the dark,
sadness-filled halls of the huge floating mansion and had spent much time
travelling. In that time he had married and sired a son. Both of whom had died in the first year of the war. Pede sighed, shaking his head and looking down at his boots
again. Esoum chewed his lip and looked at him expectantly. "We haven't seen
each other in nearly a year and a half," Pede said, "and we still
talk about the same thing. It's as if you left the mansion only
yesterday." Esoum allowed a smile to cover his face. "Then we won't
speak of it any more. Like you said, you are here now and father's permission
or not, you have sworn in as a red shirt." Pede clapped his friend on the shoulder and started to walk to
the heavy blast door that led to the station beyond the walls of the bay. "I'm surprised
you never joined the King's army earlier." A small knot of boys, no older than sixteen, pushed past with
old hunting rifles in hand and red tabards over their shoulders, some of them
trying to put the roughly dyed cloth over their heads as they ran. Proud
fathers already in their uniforms laughed and cheered as their sons stood as
warriors to fight for the King. "I have to
admit," Esoum said slowly, "I was tempted just to get away,
especially after Morwel's death, get away from this damned sector, sit out
the war and let the whole place burn." Pede looked at Esoum, saw that his friend was watching the
fathers and sons with half closed eyes, as if trying to capture an image. "You never told
me what happened to her." Pede remembered the wedding feast, the dancing, the only time he
and his father had spoken gently to each other, the things his father said
about how proud he would feel when Pede had married and sired a child of his
own... and then ruining it by introducing a pretty but shallow young woman to
him, no older than thirteen, the daughter of a Duke on the neighbouring
estate. How she had frowned when his father had talked of weddings and
grandchildren. Esoum's words bought him back to the conversation. "It was just Executioners on a
scouting mission, looking for fun. I was at market at the time." Then silence. Pede looked at him, not wanting to press for more
information, but what he had heard had virtually told him the outcome and was
all that Esoum was going to say, as he was already beaming another smile and
turning to him. "Say, let's go
down to the town and impress the ladies with our new night-gowns," he
said, shaking the tabard under Pede's nose. Pede laughed and nodded. "A good
idea." All thoughts of the conversation dowsed, the two men pushed
through the crowd through the huge blast door and headed into the station.
After a lot of patient pushing and polite requests to move the men had walked
the gargantuan corridor, well kept and clean. Sellers peddling their wares
called for the attention of many as the men walked down the main causeway
from the bay, and turned to enter a cantina, the General's Laughter. The cantina was packed with red shirts. Every seat was taken,
every available space was crammed with armour, weapons and flesh and every
tankard was in use so that some of the customers were drinking from bowls and
ladles. The men looked on, dismayed. We never did have that drink, Pede thought sadly, the memory of
trying to get the attention of the barkeep, of hearing the sirens outside
blare and being swept from the cantina by a stream of beings and standing on
the causeway, watching generals riding to the landing bay shouting for men to
come to order. Esoum turning to him and saying what, we're going to war now? But it was true. It had been reported that the Janos
Executioners were amassing an army at the coast for an assault on the capital
city and the King wanted to cut them off before their forces swelled beyond
anything he could handle. They had fallen upon the host of the blue-clad holy
warriors and fought like wild lizards. I wonder who won? Pede tried to push himself up onto his elbow but only succeeded
in sending more pain down his back, making him feel dizzy and nauseous. Thirst
overcame his desire to lie still, however, and he forced himself to his
knees. He was covered in blood but he was sure it was not his own. His
tabard was torn but his thin armour was un-penetrated and he felt around his
torso and arms to be sure. He had a cut along the back of his hand which
appeared, judging by the wood splinters in his skin, had been caused by the
surrounding vegetation. He chuckled in spite of his surroundings. Wounded by
a root. His surroundings became more tangible to him, however, as the
moon crept across the sky and his vision cleared. All around him were bodies
from both armies. The red of his compatriots, the blue of his enemy. Riding
beast's lay with legs stuck out at queer angled, seemingly frozen into place,
their bits all covered with dried foam and congealed blood. Janos Holy
fighting staffs stuck up into the air at regular intervals, small pennants
fluttering from several, tokens from lady loves and wives to bring the bearer
luck in battle. Pede thought he recognised a silver and green one his
commanding officer had received from his wife as they had left the confines
of the orbital station. She had run alongside his Tauntaun, shouting words of
love and then flung herself at him, all smiles and tears, pushing the token
into his belt and calling for his bravery to shine so that he could return to
her bed. The men had all cheered as the officer had kissed her deeply and
then tied the kerchief around the butt of his blaster and held it aloft. This
sent up more cheers from his men and the watching citizens. He remembered that well. The memory blurred his eyes and he
wiped at them angrily. He stood, looking at the carnage and trying to ignore the
strange sweet smell that permeated the air. As he turned slowly he considered
calling out for some of his friends but was unsure whether that would be a
good idea; if the battle had not gone well for the King then his enemies
would be attracted to his cries. He turned and his eyes fell on the body of a Janos Executioner,
a vibro-sword thrust through his helmet visor so that it pinned the body to
the ground. Pede thought he recognised the weapon. The shape of the pommel,
the curve of the handle. Wait, he thought, that's mine. Pede turned quickly as the Executioner made another pass, the
Holy fighting staff, which doubled as a blaster he wielded swinging in is
hand. The weapon arced and smashed into Fendel's head, sending his helmet and
pulped flesh flying through the air to land at Pede's feet. What was left of
Fendel fell to the ground without a sound. Even if he had screamed, Pede
doubted he would have heard it over the sound of the battle. "Where's the
King?" shouted Esoum, his blaster flashing in the sun and cutting down
an already wounded blue-clad soldier. The man fell to the ground with a
smouldering shoulder, and before he could raise his hand to yield Esoum and
almost shot his head in two. Pede wasn't listening. He was looking down at Fendel's bloodied
helm, remembering when they had swapped helmets because Fendel was
complaining that his nose guard was rubbing. That was this morning. This
morning. The Executioner had downed another red shirt by trampling him
into the dirt with his riding lizard. The huge war beast seemed to share its
rider's bloodlust and was screaming as it kicked out, making a wide circle
around it as warriors attacked simpler targets. The Janite held his bloodied
staff aloft and screamed for a challenge. In his rage Pede forgot the Executioners distinct armour and war
beast advantage. He ran forward, swearing he could hear the Janite taunt him
with laughs. Behind him he heard Esoum cry out about escaping something that
something was a trap, but these words did not sink into his consciousness.
All he could see was this blue-armoured Executioner, fighting mere foot soldiers
encased in metal and sitting astride a demonic steed. He ran at the
Executioner who turned to face him, weapon ready. As Pede approached he had
to duck under the swing of the staff, but he got up close to the Executioner
and raised his vibro-sword. The Executioner swung the staff with little to no momentum and
only succeeded in removing Pede's helmet. He lifted his energy shield to
counter a return blow, but Pede was not going for him. With one swift stroke
he amputated one of the lizard's forelegs, causing the beast to scream and
topple. The Executioner yelled and threw himself off, landing hard. Pede was
shocked at how nimble the man was even encased in armour. The war beast
crashed down whinnying pitifully. The Executioner tried to stand but Pede had already rushed in,
his knee crashing into the Executioner's chest and knocking him onto his
back. Pede lifted his vibro-sword with both hands, point down, and with a cry
of rage he forced the blade down into the visor. The Executioner shuddered
once and then did not move. It was at that point, he remembered now, the thrashing lizard
had kicked him in the back and sent him headlong into a tree. He sighed. He had never felt that way before, that sense of
burning rage build inside him, but he was sure it had always been there. He
regretted the death of the Executioner but knew it had been necessary. He
just wished he had not killed him with such... passion. The three-legged lizard still lay by the Executioner. Someone
had cleaved its throat, either by accident during the battle or with intent
to spare the beast the agony. Pede retrieved his vibro-sword and wiped it on
the beast's hide, placing it back into the sheath that was still at his side. Esoum, he thought, turning to where he had last seen his friend.
Some of the bodies were so mutilated that Pede wasn't sure who
most of them were; he had got to know many of them as they travelled to the
coast after their hurried departure from the station. He knew he would
recognise Esoum, however, because he had stuffed a twig down the back of his
helmet in a parody of the plume that cascaded down their commander's back
from his intricate helm. He had said that decoration was the obvious way to
survive the coming fight. Immediately after, the rallying call had been made
and the troops had surged forward. But there was no sign of helmet, twig or friend. If one of the
bodies with their faces removed was him, he could not tell, but he was sure
that the build of some of them was wrong. On the other hand, he couldn't be sure.
It was dark. Pede felt that that he should be feeling grief for the loss of
his friends but the only emotions he could muster were relief at surviving
and exhaustion, two feelings that caused another emotion to surface, that of
profound guilt. As far as he knew he was the only survivor of this terrible
conflict, he stood alone while all around him lay still. The silence was
making him feel claustrophobic, as if the darkness was closing in on him and
crushing the soul from his body. "Hello?" he
called to the trees. "Hello!" he shouted at the sky. "Anybody!"
he screamed to the dead. He waited, but no reply was coming. He knew that there had been
a ferocious battle down on the beach and for some unknown reason he was
loathe to investigate the area. The carnage around him had been hidden
somewhat by the vegetation. On the open beach it would all be there for him
to view. Besides that fact, he may find Esoum's body. He turned slowly, feeling the ache in his back increase and his
neck click as he moved it. It was a long walk back to the capital, where he knew he should
go. The Crusaders 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Eleven years before Episode IV - A
New Hope Histories - A brief entry showing the hatred
between many of the Setnin worlds, in this case Janos
and Chinngard. With
many warrior races spread throughout the sector it was inevitable that wars
would spring up between these worlds.
Threats from the outside during this era of the Setnin Sectors history
were rare and inconsequential, a fact that would soon prove to be
incorrect... Cast of Characters Pede Esoum King Theogis of Chinngard Morwel Fendel |