Chapter 7 - Hollow Bones

”Life cycles back on itself and will continue to do so over and over and over again until….” - LeeRan Sing, S&S

Fisher Reeg died here as had all the Fishers, save one, thought Cort as he stood alone on the rocks surrounding the long dead reef and village. Wearing the blue ceremonial insect carapace armor of Prince Gormand Dance’s family he stared back at the Plathora ship. He was not ready to face the barren Fisher village or the past life he had blackened from his mind. LeeRan’s posions over the years sent those memories in darkness, not destroyed them, just hid them.

It had been several hours since Princess LeeRan fell from the ship’s stretched hide deck to the sharp multi-rowed teeth below. The Strooga whose task it was to open the jaw for divers had given his briny smelling fish life for hers…

LeeRan dropped the last few feet so fast. Her mind spat images at her. Enormous teeth grew larger, wind blew up to her hair, a tentacled smile, a squishy warm body, pain, a splash, cold water, blood, torn flesh and blackness.

LeeRan woke up in the same manner she always did. She sat right up. The Servant’s voyeuristic eyestalk gaze was the first thing she saw.

“Prince Gormand, the princess is awake!” the Servant called out.

Prince Gormand Dance leapt into LeeRan’s clouded view.

“LeeRan?”

Her stomach turned. “Yes, my love,” she lied through a weak smile.

“You’re well?”

“Yes,” she simply answered. She was still on the ship as a wave jostled her.  She shifted and a sharp pain entered her shoulder. With a moan she placed a hand over it.

“Just a bruise,” the Servant commented.

He was ignored and interrupted by Gormand. “I need to go ashore. I’ll return after we search the village.”

“I want to go.”

“I’ll care for her, my lord,” the Servant added.

Princess LeeRan glared at the Servant. His head-end sunk slightly into his thick collared neck.

“Servants don’t decide my fate! I’ll go ashore with the second landing party,” Princess LeeRan commanded.

“I have already sent Cort and the Preen to examine the rocks surrounding the reef. Hopefully it will restore Cort’s memory. I’ll take the second genital craft. You, Blour and the worm can come on the third... When you are ready. Is that agreeable to you?”

The Princess won again. “Agreed,” she said.

A fake tight-lipped smile touched Gormand’s face. He turned. LeeRan victoriously grabbed his hand. He paused without looking back.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your big day.”

Prince Gormand turned, kissed her hand and realized that she won again.

Cort watched the landing craft drop from the huge carcass ship anchored safely away from the rocks. Male Plathora had four large sets of reproductive organs that made sleek and easily maneuverable boats. The little genitalia craft could be propelled though the water two ways: Either rowed using what were once its small feeding appendages as oars or by electrical current sent through the sperm duct. Cort preferred when they just rowed. Cort, two Strooga and the Preen had taken one here to the sea wall. It bobbed gently back and forth nearby between two smooth algae softened rocks.

The Preen hopped from a nearby boulder and perched next to Cort. Light hardened leather shields covered each limb of the birdman like small wings. He wore no armor, just light airy clothes. The wind flapped through them as he looked to the approaching reproductive organ.

“Two Strooga, three human sailors, supplies and Prince Gormand,” the Preen informed him.

Cort lowered his brow and looked at the Preen.

“Watch the shore and ready your crossbows.”

The Preen nodded in an exaggerated manner and turned his head 180 degrees to comply.

Two Strooga swam through the infertile reef and searched for life. An Octopus, no two, mating and entwined, were quickly and easily netted.

Cort placed an octopus over his nose and mouth. It refused to help him breathe as it made a vain attempt to strangle his face. He removed it and spoke to the nearby Strooga.

“It’s not cooperating as I’d hopped. Pith this one too. No pain for the creature.”

A Strooga nodded. Cort sucked in air and placed the eight-limb animal over his nose and mouth once again. An electrical charge for the pain and a small coral rod inserted through the skin and into the brain and it was ready. As long as it was kept moist, Cort would have the ability to breathe above and below the water. The brain dead invertebrate would pump air into his lungs and keep him alive. He checked the hollow boned Preen. His octopus mask was pumping away in perfect rhythm with his breathing. Neither could speak but the Preens eyes spoke to the guilt of the ex-hordesman that stood before him.

Cort turned to face the village and his past as memories flooded back and smacked him with a wave. Cort staggered. It came back to him.

...Krence planned and led the attack. A First Seergnot. Third Seergnot Blour, a member of Krence’s elite attack squad was jealous. Blour’s red face was hidden by the octopus that allowed him breathe in the dark murky water. He would deal with Krence, half-breed, later. No one but Blour knew Krence’s secret, half human and half marsupial and Blour planned use this, someday. Marsupials were hated by all the other species. Even the Horde.

Underwater Cort lopped past Blour stirring up silt to take the lead. The rage of the Horde’s bloodgeon coursed freely within his veins and arteries and through his heart. Cort’s eyes were wild, his muscles bulged and the octopus pumped air into lungs ready to pop. Aaaaahh. Blour too now felt the bloodgeon; Cort could see it in his eyes. Many would feel the pain of death tonight.

They couldn’t speak with their mouths covered but they could smile.

Black rocks, jagged and enormous were ahead of them reaching from the ocean floor to the surface and beyond. Sharp as they may be, a few brainless rocks would not stop them. Nothing could stop the Horde. Nothing could stop the bloodgeon-induced madness. Nothing. Together they were invincible.

An emerald puffed-nosed fluke swam by. Cort reached out to kill it. It reacted instantly and darted away. It was gone. Cort’s smile faded to anger.

He and Blour stopped and turned to their squad. Krence in his black insect shelled armor pointed up to the surface. On-Kept, also a human, guarded Krence’s back. The rest of the squad of nine rounded out as follows three reptilian Whipts (small but good fighters), a female Preen (hollow boned and useless in a real fight), and a Wasp (a very effective assassin). The eight men and one woman dropped their weights, exhaled and kicked off the ocean floor.

Baby sea-slugs stirred up in the silt and sand cloud would soon re-settle to the relative safety of their ocean bed.

Krence’s yellow and red eyes broke surface water. Cort next to surface watched him for an order and to tell him he reached the top first. Jealously for Cort’ prowess in battle was evident in the demeanor of the soon to be legend of the Horde. He shook it off. A major victory for Krence and Cort would be first Seergnot. But Cort thought more of Krence’s death for a rise in power.

The rest of the squad emerged from the depths to join their comrades.

Peeling up an edge of his octopus breather Krence whispered, “The ships will arrive shortly. But I want to show our presence to these frogs and then order the first wave.”

“We shall not be in the first wave?” the Preen quietly cooed.

“Chicken?” Blour asked.

Cort’s eyebrows and forehead asked the same question.

The Preen grimaced. “Ape,” she simply chirped back.

“No,” Krence quieted them. “We will go when I command. Let the fodder die.” With that he climbed up on a reasonably smooth rock and peeked around its jagged edge. Fires burned along the sandy beach as the unsuspecting villagers prepared for a celebration. Maybe the Hordes arrival? Krence giggled to himself. Many Human shaped forms left the water each carrying a catch. Several dragged a large red shark on the beach.

The final two frogmen waded slowly to shore. Krence watched curiously as they each carried an octopus and carefully placed them into a pool. Ritual? Krence gave the order to rise to his squad. They in turn signaled the Horde army that was just below the surface. Thousands of eyes broke the surface of the water and the moon illuminated each and every eyeball. Krence turned to see if the many eyeshines lit the distance beach. Instead the eyeshines of one Fisher stared back at him, the Horde and his doom. One by one each little pathetic gill sucking faces looked out toward Krence, their conqueror. It was exhilarating. Krence’s chest expanded with a breath and he held it.

For the first time in his half-breed life Krence felt alive. The addictive energy of the Horde’s bloodgeon flowed through his veins many times but he never truly felt its power. He never felt the strength, the desire, the yearning to massacre everyone and everything. Until this very moment. But it wasn’t from bloodgeon. It was because the lives and deaths of the solitary, peaceful and pathetic Fishers were in his complete and utter control and they knew it. He watched them scramble and scurry about in a hopeless cause to preserve their way of life. He gave them this and felt quite munificent. Quietly, Krence soon to be Legend of the Horde snaked back into the water and gave the order for the first wave to begin.

Cort watched as one thousand bloodgeon enhanced Strooga squirmed over the rocks and from his sight. Many were crushed or torn limb from limb on the stony barrier and thus fed their fellow Hordesmen. Others used their corpses as footholds and handholds. Most made it over the rocks and into the sport water.

Gnawing on what he believed was a Strooga leg an agitated Cort impatiently waited his turn at the rocks, the coral and the Fishers…

“…Cort!” Prince Gormand screamed for the third time.

A mist of cold sea spray smacked Cort’s face. His vision cleared and before him afloat on the genitalia of a Plathora was his master.

“Yes?” he mumbled incoherently through the octopus mask.

“I’ve spoken three times,” Prince Gormand whined.

“Sorry, I had a memory.”

The Prince’s eyes lit up as he gently bobbed up and down.

“This is the place. The battle began here. On the rocks.”

“What else? What of the Horde?”

“That’s all.”

“Do you remember Fisher Reeg?” the Prince continued.

“No. How is Princess LeeRan?" Cort inquired.

“Fine. What else?”

“I remember some of my squad.”

“Sir, we should go ashore.” a Strooga interrupted.

The Prince silenced him with a look.

“Krence was the leader, Blour was there.”

“We know that already.”

Cort looked away. He was obviously done speaking.

“Okay. Okay, ashore then and we swim,” the Prince ordered…

…Cort entered what the Fishers called the sporting water. He pushed past the surface of floating corpses and dove down to the bottom. A dead Strooga Hordesman hung underwater like a marionette frozen in its final dance position waiting for its strings to be pulled. Bodies of the dead decorated the sport water clouded in red. Cort had to breathe deep to get any air from his octopus. Pithed and pumping the little invertebrate fought bravely through a sea exhausted of air and engorged with blood and carnage.

Cort’s heart pounded against his ribs and his eyes wildly scanned the water for a living victim. There were none. The fighting here was over. With every bulging muscle Cort swam toward shore and toward the fight. Those cowardly Fishers had retreated. What if there were none left? Cort glanced at Krence who swam next to him. Had Krence cheated him? Krence pointed ahead. Blurred by thick crimson, the many colors of the coral lay ahead and with it the muffled sounds of battle…

…Cort swam towards the coral reef that once teemed with life’s bounty. Bone white and stained with yellow streaks, it was dead, forever. But the taste of blood and the sounds of battle flowed into his head anyway. Mucous filled his nose. Cort could feel his throat as it sucked close. Arms of skeletons long dead reached out and scratched his skin and peeled off his armor. The eight limbs of the brain dead octopus squeezed his face and sucked into his mouth filling the void and pinning down his tongue. He no longer breathed.

Violently the ex-soldier turned and diver kicked for the surface. Sand scratched his face. He had gone down not up. Using all his strength he pushed away from the ocean bed. AIR! Bones, pocked and brittle, some thick and hard, and others thin and pointy, stabbed at his flesh. They were everywhere. Blood clouded the water around him. His blood. AIR! Bony fingers tore at his skin. Had the Fishers had risen up to take his life? Hot yellow mist clouded around his groin. AIR! Firm in his enemies grasp he was trapped and drowning. Death was coming for him. Finally. The little pithed octopus released and floated away, deceased and useless but free…

…Cort ripped the drowned octopus from his face. The fighting in the coral had lasted over an hour and the air trapped within the water was depleted. Several Horde waves had preceded Cort, Krence, and their squad, but somehow the Fishers were still fighting. They had no bloodgeon, no divine power, and no science and yet they fought with the ferocity worthy of the Horde. Cort had joined the battle late, thanks to that coward Krence, and now few victims remained. He wanted death in the form of blood, pain and bloodgeon.

A large Fisher, gasping for breath, jabbed at Cort with a javelin. Cort held his breath and parried the blow with his glass-spiked spear. Cort had received this oddly forged weapon many years before as a trophy of sorts from his masters, the bloodgeon Artists. He would have preferred more bloodgeon and violence but it was a remarkable weapon.

The Fisher, Gohg-pour, watched his javelin splinter as the almost invisible weapon wielded by a human of immense strength blocked his thrust. Gohg-pour was sure he had just won this contest until the moment the crazy eyed human punctured his soft scaly skin. The point pushed gently through him. There was no pain as he, Glen’s father and the strongest of all the Fishers was swept like a stuck swimfish through the water and into the air above the surface. The berserk Hordesman split him and tossed him away as easily as he had done to the Crimson Shark. Gohg-Pour’s last moment was a fleeting glance for his son. But Glen was not in view.

Cort wanted, needed one more death before he went up for air. To his right, the squad’s female Preen, swimming alone and shooting her crossbow. To his left was a reptilian Whipt. Scaly, small self-hugging and snake-like eyes it swam like a crocodile. Sketcher? It fought the adolescent Fisher. Rory? Sketcher’s wire whip sword was very effective in the water as he quickly dispatched the juvenile frog-boy. The Fisher of no more than 8 or 9 nine cycles died in his own waste as he evacuated. Ahead, Blour and Krence both fought a sleek well-muscled Fisher thus blocking his path for more kills. Everyone needed air except Cort, just one more kill. So, he snapped his comrade’s neck. As the Preen’s hollow bones echoed through the sanguine fluid filled water Cort felt aroused.

Sketcher Whipt ripped his octopus from his face and kicked for shallower water. The well-toned Fisher leader obviously lost the will to fight and retreated for the shore. Blour left for the surface. Krence spun to find the lifeless face of his lover as the lovely beaked Preen drifted, head slumped and eyes wide. Her shattered neck bones jutted from her skin. As the exposed esophagus filled with water, air bubbles escaped the tube and fled to the surface.

…Cort was trapped as the bones of the Fishers held him under the water and the last few bubbles of air escaped his agape mouth.

The Preen thought it was a fitting end. Sucking hard on his octopus mask he watched the large entangled Human whose armor was snagged deep within the dead bleached coral. Then he saw a spider-like sea creature, a stingerfish perhaps, stab Cort repeatedly with several pointy spines. Raptor scrutinized the ex-hordesman’s ironic predicament as Cort’s eyes rolled and death held on tight.