Jean Preston - Sledgehammer

“OI!” cried the captain. “Stop lazing about, I’ve got orders for you.”

The giant crept from its hiding place and walked to the back of the line. It was largely grey, though speckled with white, like a marine mammal. It was completely hairless. It looked at Kirwyn for a moment, its large yellow eyes boring into his soul. It sniffed him.

“OI!” cried the captain. “Get a move on.” It meekly acquiesced, walked behind its brother, and the whole battalion marched out.

They came across another company marching in the dark. Their captain approached.

“We need the big lads, there’s men holed up in the lower levels, we need something to break through.”

Kirwyn’s captain sighed. “You can have one of them.”

The other captain clicked his fingers at the sallow giant. “You!” he cried “You’re with me.”

The golem looked to the original captain, then looked around in confusion. The other captain twisted a metal bar on his wrist and pointed at the sallow golem. It fell to its knees and grabbed at its throat, squealing in agony, grimacing and closing its eyes. The other captain kicked it in the back. “You’re with ME,” he shouted, kicking the giant into position. The two companies parted.

Kirwyn’s troop had approached Alana’s position from the rear. The captain slid down by an old felled tree, and his recruits followed, the golem lolled about nearby.

“The enemy is up there,” he hissed. “Move quietly. Go, you devil !”

The golem stretched its neck, ligaments in its neck popped. It pulled at its shock collar and looked around. The captain glared at the beast until it fell down to all fours, scampering up the hill. The troop followed it, slowly advancing to the tree line. They heard rifle shots echoing in the distance. They marched in good order sluggishly through the forest. Kirwyn panicked.

“There’s an enemy!” he cried.

The Immortals ducked down behind a log. “Where?” hissed the captain. Kirwyn smashed him on the head with his scabbard. He retrieved the captain’s automatic rifle and held it awkwardly, pointing at the confused recruits, trying to find the trigger.

“Drop your weapons,” he whispered urgently.

They looked on one another, hesitated, but did so, one by one. The captain moaned on the floor.

“Take off your hoods,” Kirwyn whispered, staring at them impatiently.

They did so, reluctantly. They were no older than 15, by Kirwyn’s reckoning. Their heads were hairless, their skin was snow-pale, even the ones with African features. Kirwyn stared at them for a moment, his unease softened.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he said, with narrowed eyes. “If you come back I’ll kill you. Understand?”

Some of the children nodded anxiously. Others stared blankly into space. They put on their hoods and walked away, none in the direction of the Citadel. Kirwyn looked at them leaving, puzzled. The captain moaned quietly in pain on the ground. Kirwyn remembered his purpose and climbed the hill, flinging his gun away.

Alana fired and slid the bolt. She heard a rustling behind her, she wheeled around and shot, hitting the golem in the ribs. It wailed and spun around, retreating behind a tree. She slid the bolt and hit it again – in the back, just before it disappeared. Black blood splattered on the tree.

Alana shook, she advanced, her eyes wide. She slid the bolt, sending a bullet casing into the grass. The creature moaned in agony and hate. Alana closed her eyes and grimaced. Tears welled in her eyes. But still she advanced.

“I am a Ranger,” she whispered “My weapon is the long rifle and my aim is true.”

“I do not fight for money or for… glory. I fight to protect the meek… and the innocent.”

She heard the heavy footsteps of the creature.

“I do not run from my enemies, I face them .”

The creature moaned inhumanly.

“I do NOT FEAR—” She shouted, terrified “—my enemies, I PITY THEM!”

“I do not hate my enemies, I mourn for them.”

She rounded a tree, rifle at the ready.

She found the Golem, lying propped up. It breathed deeply and painfully. Black blood poured from its ribcage in quarts. It tried to get up when it saw her approach, she raised her rifle to shoot, but the beast slid back down, coughing monstrously. She watched it a while. Its yellow eyes flitted about, its expression was one of blind panic. She wondered if it was once Kirwyn. Her expression softened. She looked around her, eyes narrowed.

She could hardly believe she was doing it, but she lowered her rifle. The creature stared at her. It looked away, struggling to breathe. She walked closer to it. It tried to rise and turn away from her, but it could not.

“It’s ok,” she whispered.

The creature stared at her, confused and terrified. She saw the thick collar around its neck, metal and rubber. She saw the scars around its neck, fingernail scratches and burns. She walked closer and raised a hand. The creature flinched.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said.

She approached slowly. Step by step.

“Can you speak? Do you have a name?” she asked.

The creature looked at her, its eyes flittered about. It closed its eyes and turned away. It opened its mouth, but closed it and swallowed. It tried again, words croaked out of its throat for the first time in a very long time.

“I am… I was… Fort-in-bras,” it said, its voice deep and strange.

“I’m not going to hurt you Fortinbras,” she said, her voice wavering. “Please don’t hurt me.”

She approached.

She touched his shoulder with a trembling hand. Fortinbras stared at it, then at her in wonder.

She pulled out her knife, Fortinbras flinched and raised his arms to guard himself.

Alana jumped back. She breathed heavily. “T-trust me,” she said.

Fortinbras slowly lowered his hands. Alana approached and held his collar. The creature closed its eyes and breathed deeply, wind sucking into its wound. Alana tried to cut the collar, then sawed at the rubbery material. The collar snapped, wires sparked. She grabbed it and threw it aside. She sheathed her knife and stepped back.

Fortinbras felt his neck and looked up at her in wonder. He slowly raised a trembling hand and led it to Alana. Alana was visibly terrified. Fortinbras clutched his hand back. Alana laughed nervously, quietly. Fortinbras had a pained expression, he smiled. She approached him, he slowly raised his great lumbering hand up to her face, stroked her hair with two massive fingers. She laughed a little.

“I didn’t… want… they made…” he muttered, lowering his head in shame and retrieving his claw, resting it on the ground. His chest had sealed shut, the wound was black and slimy, he still struggled to breathe. He clambered to his feet, towering above her, swaying slightly.

He looked at her for a moment, sadly, then looked away. He supported his ribs with his great hand, then lumbered off from her, into the forest.

Alana exhaled suddenly and fell to her knees.

Kirwyn ran through the forest. He had found rifle casings in a little clearing, but saw no other sign of her. He considered calling out to her, but feared that might attract enemy fire.

“Kirwyn!” cried Alana distantly. Kirwyn looked to his side like a dog hearing its name, he hurtled through the forest.

“Kirwyn!” The sound was closer, leaves and branches flapped in his face, his heart raced, he leapt over roots and stones.

“Found you!” cried Fiddler.

Fiddler held his cavalry sabre up to Alana’s throat. His free hand fell across her chest, clutching her shoulder. He hunched over her, breathing heavily down her neck.