El'Anorath (First Draft)

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

         

         High on the mountainside, in the safety of a large bunker, Lord Tesson stood watching several screens that were streaming reports from the battlefield.  The bunker was darkly lit and several high ranking Corrinite officers stood around him.

         "Is this all they have for us?" he smiled.  "They don't even have reinforcements at the ready."

         "Lord?" said one of the officers. Tesson nodded for him to continue.  "The locator beacon has been activated.  They're headed west."

         "Excellent.  Get my transport ready."

         "Yes, my Lord," replied the officer before scurrying off.

         "Locator beacon?" asked another officer.

         "Why do all the work for yourself when you can have others do it for you?  Let's just say I have a very special surprise for someone." 

         

         Xera and the other remaining major outposts were under full evacuation orders.  When word reached them of the massacre occurring at the Hollin mountains, the campaign generals decided the Alliance did not yet have what it took to defeat the Corrinites on their own soil.  It was a hard choice, and after such losses it seemed wasteful to many of the high ranking officials aboard the Constable to throw away the progress they had made so readily. Others, involved personally, were worried about their friends or family deployed to various posts.

         "So that's it, then?" said Nathalya's father to Colonel Ralphael on board the Constable.  He had stopped by for a quick visit after working all afternoon.  "The Alliance is calling it quits?"

         "Whoever is commanding the Corrinites held back their initial strength.  We had no way of knowing things would go this way," replied the Colonel.

         "Bull," said Harms.  "What about the guys in intelligence and whatnot?  Didn't they know all about the Corrinites?"

         "Their commander has already been reprimanded," answered the Colonel.  He slid his black tie over his head then loosened the top button on his uniform.  "What's more, Jonathan, the Corrinite Commander...he's a Calari."

         "What?" Harms dropped his arms.  "How is that possible?"

         "I don't know, but you may want to have a seat," the Colonel said and waited for Jonathan to do so.  He passed him a glass of water.

         "Nathalya has travelled beyond radio communication.  She's attempting to find some artifact."

         "Then they have to go get her," said Harms, staying calm.

         "They don't know her whereabouts.  My son is with her."

         "Well then don't just sit there!" Harms exploded.  "Send a team or something to extract them!  Hold off on the evacuation!  Do something!" 

         "I'm sorry, Jonathan.  This is way above even my pay grade,"  replied the Colonel.  "It has long been debated whether or not the Alliance will hold position.  This last defeat has cost us too dearly."

         "Darius..," said Mr. Harms.  "My daughter is down there.  Your son is down there.  They're fighting for the Alliance.  Don't condemn them for doing the right thing!"

         "There is nothing I can do.  Our men are to evacuate immediately. The El'Anorath campaign is lost and..."

         "But our children don't have to be!  Send more reinforcements or something!"

         "I'm sorry..," replied the Colonel, quietly, after a time.  "There is nothing I can do."

         Harms stormed out of the Colonel's office and found his way to Nathalya's quarters, to which he had been given temporary access.  The room was dark and cold and yet smelled strongly of a flower blanketed field after a spring rain.  He washed his hands clean of a day's work in the engine room and then, picking the remote up off the bedside table, he laid down on her bed with his feet hanging off to the side.

         He pressed the play button on the remote and the lights dimmed to a dark red and gentle music issued from the speakers around the room.  It filled Mr. Harms with a sense of peace and his rage began to subside. 

         It was then that the memories of his time spent with his wife on Pharris began to play through in his mind.  He could see her, running around the kitchen preparing a meal - she had a way with food that made each bite as delicious as the first and as to replenish all energy lost that day.  In this memory, he had been playing outside with a very young Nathalya when the aroma drifting though the window had drawn them inside to wait on her eagerly.

         The next memory found them, a few years later, sitting around the dinner table and talking.  It was after his wife had revealed her secret to him and they were discussing Nathalya's training.  At first, Harms had been reluctant, but now he could see her progress, was glad Nathalya was doing as well as she was.  It at least eased his mind when she would later come to him for information on joining the Alliance military.

         The final memory that came to him was after the memorial service when his wife had faded away.  It was a small service, mostly members of the tiny community.  He pictured Nathalya in her long black dress as she tossed flowers down to the empty casket as it was lowered into the dry soil.  His daughter hadn't cried, but instead looked on her father with an air of one lost in the desert without water.  It was a shock that would not settle for some time.

         But Nathalya was strong.  She held her head up always.  He knew his daughter was smart and would make it out with the evacuations.  No matter what, he thought, she will come back to me.  It was early evening, but he found his eyes becoming heavy.  He allowed them to close and himself to fall into a deep sleep.

         

         Back on the mountains of El'Anorath, Kale DeVega lay silent in a pool of blood, crimson against the white of the snow around him on the mountainside.  The rescue attempt had failed.  The Corrinite forces had been too strong - too prepared, for the direct approach ordered by General Fallon.  The fighter and suppressor aircraft were outnumbered in the skies and the ground troops found the overwhelming numbers and uneven terrain too much of an obstacle to overcome.

         Time and time again and for several days the Alliance charged the mountainside and time and time again they were beaten down.  Air support offered little help.  Retreat orders had come down from command, but the message was lost and the officers led their troops on in blind attacks. 

         Heavy artillery and anti-aircraft guns had been placed on tracks throughout the mines and could be wheeled and turned as needed.  If they were besieged, they simply retreated into the mines and popped out somewhere overhead.  In this fashion, and with the communications jamming, the Corrinites had managed to bleed out the Alliance forces very quickly.

         

         DeVega could only vaguely remember the events that led to him to be laying as he was in the snow in the approaching twilight, the warmth beneath him he knew to be his own blood pooling under him.  There had been several flashes of light as they made a charge from one cover to the next, and his ears ringing from the aftermath.  Dark shapes had then closed in on him and his squad. 

         Several of his men raised their arms in surrender, but not DeVega.  Instead of giving in and despite a wound to his side, he raised his rifle and fought back.  He couldn't hear anything, but he could feel the enemy retaliation as they returned fire.  He'd fallen face down in the snow, his breathing broken and shallow.

         Presently, he found himself lapsing in and out of consciousness, unable to hold on yet not wanting to relent.  It seemed others were set on making the decision for him.

         "Leave this one for dead.  Filthy Alliance pig!" a Corrinite said as he kicked hard at DeVega's side, sending him tumbling head over and rolling down a steep hillside.  He lay where he landed for a time.  With the last bit of his strength, his vision blurred as he pulled himself to a sitting position, his back against the cold bark of a naked white tree.

         Explosions and gunshots could still be heard echoing off the peaks of the mountains.  Corrinite aircraft buzzed overhead, patrolling for signs of any last Alliance remnant.  They were ruthless.  Retreat or surrender mattered not. When they had their quota of prisoners to fill their needs in the mines, none were spared.

         He searched his mind, straining to think of something - a single thought worth holding on to until the end.  He found himself surprised, yet content, at the one came to the forefront of his conscience.  It was hardly something he had ever expected to find himself thinking about during his final breaths. Though he was comforted, a tinge of regret prodded at his heart when he pictured her face, framed in damp, jet black hair after a walk in the rain.

         

         Night came as the sun dipped below the mountains behind DeVega, who shivered as the wind picked up and fresh snow fell from the sky.  It swirled around him in an icy dance, inviting his spirit to follow suit.  His vision blurred again as he unlatched his holster with clumsy hands that felt frozen and numb.  He sat for a moment with his hand on his pistol, his heart racing.  He pictured her face as clear as he could and then drew the merciful weapon.

         "I wonder how she's doing..," he said to the tree.

         "She must be special," the tree replied with a low creaky voice that trailed off with the wind.

         "She is," said DeVega.  A minute passed by in silence, then the tree spoke again.

         "Who is she?" it asked.  DeVega loaded a single round into the chamber.

         "A beacon of passion and a symbol of true humanity."

         "And do your eyes wish to pass over her again?" asked the tree.

         "If only to burn her image in my mind so that I may see her clearly once more."

         "Where did she go?"

         "West, with Nathalya.  To find Orion."

         "Orion?"

         "The master titan,"  There was silence again for a time, then the tree spoke.

         "They will fail," it said.

         "Probably," replied DeVega.  "Just as I have."

         "Would you do anything differently, If you could?" asked the tree.  DeVega thought for a moment, then pressed the cold steel of the barrel against his temple.

         "I would have kissed her goodbye."

         The mountains were quiet save a single shot that echoed over the peaks before fading away.