The Distant Kingdoms Volume Fourteen: Dragonesque

PROLOGUE

The low hanging layer of ominous clouds held the sun at bay and had done so for many days. Although no rain fell at such an early time of the morning, a strong breeze blew off of the nearby ocean, creating a frigid atmosphere along the shoreline. The entire expanse of the ocean had turned a dull grey in tone, almost as if in conjunction with the grim sky overhead. Waves continually lapped up across the strip of dull brown and black sand, though they held no energy for the task. If a person were to look upon the scene, they would rightfully conclude something had gone terribly wrong and laid the entire region to waste. This was a place that held a shocking secret, one ready to rise and add further grief to an already desolate vista.

There were four of them in total, none counted as an adult in their once prosperous society. As measured in time on this world, their ages ranged from fourteen to twenty-six seasons. Three were male, the fourth female, naturally, and all dressed in little more than bundles of putrid rags. They presently sought shelter within the outer edges of the forest; the heavily timbered areas were the only safe areas to be found and even these places were no real guarantee of an extended life. So many others had perished amongst the tall trees which themselves were often burned and charred to little more than blackened stumps. Every so often an entire grove or valley was to be found in complete ruin, its trees, bushes and wildlife little more than cinders. Thankfully, many parts of the forest were still in a reasonably pristine condition and as such were a safe haven from the possibility of a swift, but shocking death.

The four children remained where they were beneath the wide branches of a mighty tree. Their fearful yet exhausted eyes searched across the devastated region before them, all in egger search of any signs of danger. One child, the eldest boy, ventured from out of his haven. The others watched in fearful silence as he paced a couple of steps from their position. He ceased moving a short distance away, his dark brown eyes darting this way and that for any signs of menace. There was no such thing as being too cautious in their world these days. Caution on their part was the only factor that had carried their lives to this miserable day. Others within their community, those who had not perished the day of the attack, had died off one by one simply because they gave in to fatigue and the resulting recklessness.

Being children born and raised in a city, none of them really knew how to fend for themselves. In their former lives, food and water were plentiful and there was always a warm bed to sleep in on cold nights. Now they were forced to scavenge whatever food they could locate, drink straight from ponds and creeks and sleep, shivering beneath trees and in naturally formed caves. These days life was harsh – and not simply because of the resulting food and water shortages in these lands. Many other forms of dangers were to be found in the area.

The eldest boy remained motionless for a while before finally moving along the open road beneath his feet. About him were gathered an assortment of derelict houses, shattered and subsequently deserted. Many were little more than empty, blackened husks set beside the cobbled road. He moved with the utmost caution until a good distance from his companions.

Still gathered amongst the nearby trees, the other three children watched in silent trepidation as their self-appointed leader continued his exploration along the street. At some point he turned to them, gave a wan smile and nodded to indicate that there appeared to be no need for fear. He waited in the middle of the otherwise deserted street as his friends scrambled across in an effort to join him. Under normal circumstances they never, ever would have taken a risk of such magnitude. Right now they were all so cold and on the verge of complete starvation that even running the distinct risk of an appalling death was secondary.

Something stirred high overhead.

All four of the youthful invaders to the desolate region halted in their tracks. The eldest boy was still some distance away, his mouth open, eyes wide as he stared to the grey skies and whatever dangers lurked within them. A moment passed as a strange, though quite familiar sound reached them. The eldest boy looked to his companions and mouthed a single word: ‘run’.

All of the children turned, charging towards the forest which now appeared a great distance from their current positions. The three younger children burst into the trees and their sheltering branches. They halted only then before turning to watch as their companion continued his headlong dash for safety.

A massive blast of fire hurtled down from the skies instantly engulfing the eldest boy. He opened his mouth to scream before collapsing further into the raging inferno around him. In an instant, his life was gone, his form unrecognisable in the roaring flames. The remaining children retreated deeper into the forest; there was simply no point in staying around any longer.

CHAPTER ONE

THE AZZIL TERRITORIES

NORTH-WEST OF THE CITY OF UNTERROD

The rain: It never seemed to stop. Day after day it came crashing down in a blinding, fearsome deluge from out of the heavily overcast skies. On some occasions the precipitation did lighten up, just enough to give anyone beneath it some hope of relief. However, more often than not this minor relief would be overcome by even heavier downpours that blotted out the surrounding landscapes and turned small streams into raging rivers and grassy plains into expansive lakes. Sometimes vicious storms blasted their way low overhead, thunder breaching the silence and lightening thrashing away at the surrounding terrain. On other occasions the temperature plummeted so violently that almost all of the water to be found across the ground froze, turning the region not into a snowy wonderland, but a hard, harsh death trap. Thankfully, these occasions were becoming scarce as the weather, in general, did warm up due to it being well into the warm season; or at least it was supposed to be. Still, conditions in the region were harsh and survival amounted to displaying extraordinary caution at all times.

The man was of average height, not all that old as measured in Earth times and had a slight, though muscular frame as a result of always living a physically active life. He wore a khaki coloured uniform, along with a black leather jacket that looked somewhat out of place with his other clothes, and heavy leather boots which were highly polished. At his side hung a Colt .45 automatic pistol in a holster, both of which appeared as expertly maintained as his footwear. Completely ignoring the rain that spotted his clothing with fresh water, he stepped into the small cave, removed his hat and shook clear any residual drops. Once done with this simple act, he stepped past a couple of burgundy uniformed soldiers and across to a short man seated on a metal crate.

Lieutenant Gary Wyndham of the United States Marine Corps stared down at the seated man who appeared not to have noticed his presence. The seated individual was currently playing around with a strange-looking weapon which appeared to have been gold plated at some stage. He continued working on the Thompson machine gun, placing live rounds into the gold plated ammunition drum.

Finally the recent arrival spoke: Goddam it, Corrigin! No one gave you permission to lift the entire crate of .45 ammo from the chopper!

The short man with his close-cropped hair continued loading the drum, though he did turn his face towards the angered officer. And just what crate of ammunition would that be, Lieutenant? Sean Corrigin politely inquired, flashing a light smile in the process.

That would be the ammo crate you’re sitting on right now, Sean, Wyndham retorted. Look, I don’t mind you borrowing some ammo from time to time – though Lord knows we really don’t have that much to spare, but at least ask first and don’t take all of it.

You don’t need so much ammunition, the little Irishman replied. After all, you’ve only got a couple of handguns that need that calibre of rounds. I have this beauty to load and it only came with two full drums in the first place.

Wyndham gave a despondent sigh. Seriously, this is how it’s going to work; I’ll permit you to have enough rounds to refill both drums, then I’m taking the rest of the ammo back to the huey – got it?

Sean nodded. Sounds fair to me, Lieutenant. He grinned. So tell me, has the rain stopped?

No, the rain hasn’t stopped, as you already know, Sean. Stupid rain’s been falling for weeks now, even before the others left for Porra to pick up that SCATT contraption. I only wish it’d stop and give us half a chance to get the hell out of these stinking caves.

You’re right about the smell, Sean admitted, shoving more cartridges into the drum. I mean you can’t expect to shove a couple of hundred people into some caves and not have them end up smelling like the men’s locker room at the local gymnasium, can you?

I suppose not, Wyndham agreed with no real enthusiasm for the topic. Now, going back to the item of stolen munitions; you wouldn’t happen to know anything about two missing hand-grenades that were also taken from the huey at about the same time as the .45 ammo?

Sean reached into the seemingly endless folds of his coat with one hand and hauled out two US Marines-issued fragmentation grenades. You wouldn’t be talking about these, would you, Lieutenant?

Yes! As a matter of fact I would!

Sean placed the weapons back into his coat. Nope. Can’t help you with that one. You might have to speak to someone else about them.

The truth be told, the officer quite liked the Irishman. He was humorous, witty and just made for good company on what was becoming an exceedingly trying mission. Unfortunately, on some occasions, Wyndham would have liked nothing more than to physically drag the runt into the nearest bushes and shoot him stone-cold dead.

Falling silent as his common sense fought a short, but vicious battle with ever-rising homicidal urges, Wyndham decided there was little he could do in the situation. Sean was an integral part of the expedition and his knowledge of modern weaponry had proven useful in the past. Look, Sean, if you need something from us, please ask.

I’ll keep that in mind, Gary, Sean smiled up at him.

Wyndham took a deep breath then retreated from the cave before the homicidal urges grew too strong for him to control. Outside, the rain was, naturally, still falling from the grey, grim sky. Thankfully, by now it had degenerated to little more than a miserable drizzle. Ignoring such a minor inconvenience, he strode past some Territorian troops on sentry duty and stepped across to the cave everyone was now referring to as The Cathedral. This reference was due mainly to the ominous interior of the naturally formed amphitheatre and the rock formation located to the rear which did honestly resemble a set of gigantic organ pipes. Thankfully, that particular cave formation, one amongst many, was sizable enough to house virtually all of Wyndham’s recently assigned army, almost five hundred soldiers and additional personnel combined. The high ceiling and expansive space allowed the troops to freely move around so they did not become overly claustrophobic. This said; there had been some outbursts of violence of late. Inside the massive cave, tempers were becoming frayed after spending weeks sheltering from the tempestuous weather. On a couple of occasions fights had broken out amongst the rank-and-file soldiers and one of these seemingly innocuous brawls had even developed into something of an all-in stoush that seemed to encompass almost the entire battalion. Once that fight had ceased, both Wyndham and his co-commander of the army, Captain Carl Buchanan had basically read the riot act at their subordinates. The instigators had been immediately placed on night watch with half rations. Some of the junior Territorian officers with the battalion had argued that a more common practice would have been to hang the ringleaders and flog the other participants. Neither commander would hear of such a violent practice, leaving the local officers and NCO’s feeling somewhat angered over a breach of Territorian military etiquette.

After that incident, Buchanan had personally placed the British NCO, Sergeant Major Walter Bradshaw in complete control of discipline within the company. Since his appointment all inter-battalion hostilities had virtually ceased. The tall, no-nonsense NCO with his mutton-chop whiskers and bull-horn voice terrified not only the members of his own squad, but all other soldiers as well.

Inside the massive cavern was to be found row after row of army-issue tents, all a deep burgundy in colour and made of a heavy duty canvas to keep out the worst of the weather. To the opposite side was a hastily constructed corral holding many hundreds of horses. Truthfully, these animals were starting to become as irritable as their owners due to the simple fact of being cooped up day after day. Beside the corral was an assortment of wagons, some enclosed while others were open. These straightforward modes of transport were still loaded with their cargos ranging from spare uniforms, replacement equipment and weapons, cooking utensils, blankets, spare tents, food and water rations. The water rations were not really an issue because of obvious circumstances. The food rations were becoming something of a concern for the commanding officers of the stalled army. Basically, they were consuming food at the standard rate without budging from their current position. Sooner rather than later, the food would run out and they would be no closer to their ultimate goal of the city of Innolin. About twenty troops had already been dispatched under the careful eye of the head Dearnian guard, Thellic, to the closest city of Unterrod. By their best estimate the city was the nearest major outpost of civilisation and would take the squad some five days to make the journey there and return. Hopefully, the squad and their wagons would come back with enough supplies to keep the entire company in meals for a great time. They had been gone for three days so far and the battalion commanders lived in hope to see their imminent return.

Carl Buchanan and Wyndham had given some serious consideration to taking the entire army to Unterrod, however, the cave offered them more than ample shelter from the miserable weather, whereas the same might not be said for the distant metropolis. Also, such a journey would only take them further off-track in regards to their assigned destination far to the north.

Reaching the long, horse-drawn cart holding the Iroquois helicopter, Wyndham immediately noticed that only his squad’s NCO, Corporal Scott Stuart was present. He currently sat in his standard position within the aircraft’s cockpit, his hat over his face while in the throes of a deep sleep.

The lieutenant opened the door on his side, stepping into the already occupied cockpit. His presence seem to alert Stuart that there was another person inside the helicopter with him. Reaching up, he slowly removed his hat and turned to face his commanding officer.

Morning, Lieutenant, he murmured.

Corporal, Wyndham replied, with no real enthusiasm. He was far too angry to exchange pointless pleasantries with his subordinate.

Did you find the ammo?

Corrigin had it.

I knew it, Stuart grumbled. Thieving, little bastard Irishman. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like him, but sometimes…

You just want to up and shoot him. Yeah, tell me about it! Wyndham looked around. Where the hell’s Field got too?

Search me, sir. Last I saw him he was fooling around with his rifle.

I hope by ‘fooling around’ you actually meant ‘cleaning in the required manner’, Corporal?

Ah – yes, sir. I really don’t know where he’s at right now.

Wyndham gave a reluctant sigh. He’s probably just mixing with the natives.

Stuart turned to peer past the cave and into the light rain. I sure hope this clears up soon.

We’ve been here for ages, Wyndham grumbled, likewise staring into the foul weather. And to be perfectly honest, it’s starting to get on my nerves.

Much to their mutual surprise, Sean appeared from out of the rain. He was carrying the ammunition crate with both hands as he approached the stationary aircraft. Smiling broadly, he lifted the crate, placing it onto the cart near the helicopter. Once done, he climbed higher until eventually making his way into the main cabin right behind the two Marines.

See, he chuckled. I told you I would bring it back.

How many rounds did you leave us, Sean? the officer demanded.

More than enough for those little guns of yours.

Colt .45’s are not ‘little guns’; not by anybody’s standards.

I suppose they’d do in a pinch, the Irishman retorted.

If you don’t believe me, let me shoot you in the leg, Wyndham insisted. Then we’ll see who’s in doubt here.

I’ve never been shot before today and I don’t intend to start now. He looked around as if something was amiss. What were you two arguing about when I got here?

Just complaining about the weather is all, Wyndham informed him.

I don’t mind, it reminds me of home, Sean commented.

Well, we’ve got places to be and people to meet, the lieutenant stated in earnest. So we really need to be moving and soon. We’re just lucky these caves were here. Otherwise we’d be camped out in the Goddamn rain all of the time.

Private First Class Clarence ‘Clary’ Field appeared, his M-16 slung over one shoulder.

Where have you been, Private Field? the officer asked.

The tall African-American climbed into the helicopter, joining Sean in the rear cabin.

Just talking to those limey redcoats, sir, the enlisted man explained, placing his weapon in the overhead rack.

Did you really need your weapon for that?

No, not really. I just like to have it handy – you know; just in case.

I know how you feel, Sean interjected. You’ll never find me without some form of self-defence on my person. Unfortunately, I left most of my stuff back in the SCATT. I’m hoping to retrieve everything once Dale brings it back.

They might take it across to Valderhien, Wyndham mentioned, placing a locally made cigarette in his mouth.

They might swing around this way, Sean mentioned in passing. The locals might get hold of the damn thing!

Wyndham looked around at him. Don’t let Thellic hear you say that. I honestly get the feeling he’s just waiting for any old excuse to up and slaughter the local people.

Carl Buchanan was next to put in an appearance at the Iroquois. He stood near the occupied cockpit, but made certain to steer well clear of Sean. He always kept his distance from the Irishman at all times. Much to his trepidation, Sean was always staring at him, almost as if deciding on something important that involved the Sharpshooter captain.

Hi, Carl, Wyndham acknowledged his presence. Despite being assigned as co-commanders of their brigade, the two officers actually managed their duties amicably and never seemed to disagree on anything of great importance.

I’ve been thinking, Buchanan announced.

Did that hurt? Sean asked, poking his head out to stare down at the green-uniformed man.

Not that I’m aware of, Buchanan retorted, through gritted teeth. He looked back to the Marines officer. I feel we really need to have a meeting with everyone important here and right now.

Why? Wyndham inquired. It was honestly an odd sort of arrangement. To the strictest sense of military protocol Buchanan was his superior officer. But he was also from the Civil War, so it seemed a moot point.

Well, I’m getting more rumblings about the troops getting restless. Those limey soldiers even had something of a fight earlier this morning.

I didn’t know that, the lieutenant admitted. I’m surprised Bradshaw didn’t put his boot up a couple of asses for their troubles.

Oh, he did at that. Take my word on it.

The poor chap didn’t injure himself in the process, did he? Sean pipped up.

No, he’s fine, Buchanan stated. And I’d prefer it if you continued to leave him alone.

I always leave him alone, Sean replied, feigning complete innocence.

Good. Well anyway, I get the feeling that as soon as Thellic and those others return with our supplies we’ll get moving, bad weather or not.

A little rain’s not really the problem, Wyndham retorted, blowing some smoke from his mouth. A lot of flooding between us and the north is our problem. No matter how restless everyone is, we just can’t teach our horses to fly across the water.

The Appor can, Sean added.

Yes, but they’ve only got two horses and besides, they’re with Thellic acting as lookout for his squad.

We might have to get the Appor to do a bit of recon up north and find a path for us that doesn’t resemble the bottom of an aquarium, Wyndham added.

As soon as they had ceased their conversation everyone went their separate ways to gather all of the others for the upcoming assembly.

The meeting took place around a low burning fire near the rear of the cave, so at least they could share some warmth. Thankfully, the high ceiling of the cave provided plenty of ventilation. Those involved were Sean, Wyndham, Buchanan, Walter Bradshaw (who constantly glared at the Irishman), the dark-haired Dearnian man Boriculin (who was the only Dearnian guard not away with the convoy), William Hill (the most senior of the Confederate troops left) and a handful of the junior officers of the Territorian army. A number of others standing about that sector of the cave gave the meeting an occasional glance, though most of them had the common sense to keep well clear.

I want you to spread the word to your people that once the wagons return to replenish our supplies, we’ll be leaving to head north, Wyndham announced to everyone.

Is this such a wise move, Lieutenant?’ Bradshaw inquired. After all, there’s no point in leaving here only to get bogged down further along the road."

After careful consideration, Sergeant Major, I feel we need to take the risk. Otherwise we could be in a situation where the company stays here permanently, just pointlessly using up all our supplies again. To be quite honest with you, I have better things to do with my time than cool my heels, standing around here day after day. The sooner we check on this Innolin city and see for ourselves just what’s going on, the sooner we can get to doing something far more productive.

The tall British NCO nodded in approval. Very good, Lieutenant, I’ll see to it my men are ready when the time comes.

Bradshaw never ever referred to any of the American or Territorian officers as ‘sir’. He always used their ranks in any form of address. This had been the case during their time together from Xerous City and the march to Terrimorter. There was no disrespect towards these commissioned personnel; he just refused to call a non-British officer as ‘Sir’.

Also, please feel free to … Err … ‘help’ the other enlisted men should they lag behind when we break camp, the lieutenant suggested.

Certainly, Lieutenant Wyndham.

What if we get stuck in the mud some place? Sean asked.

We deal with any situation as it happens, Buchanan was the one to answer him. And we’ll have the Appor acting as scouts for us.

After being out in all that rain I’d be surprised if their poor horses don’t get waterlogged, Sean muttered.

Well Zer-Qil-Ard told us they usually aren’t affected by the rain, the captain commented. It’s more any strong wind they’ve got to look out for.

Also, the rain does seem to be easing today, one of the junior officers stated. We might get lucky and finally have an end to this ceaseless downpour.

We can only pray you’re right, Buchanan remarked, warming his hands against the fire’s radiating heat. He looked around to the others. So, you all know what to do, please get on with it.

Walter Bradshaw did salute him before stepping away from the meeting. Sean Corrigin saluted the British NCO and almost started a fight right then and there. The Territorian officers bowed to their commanders then moved away to set things in motion for the upcoming evacuation of their seemingly permanent base.

CHAPTER TWO

They heard the first animal growl early in the evening at the cave. The deep, menacing roar reverberated throughout the partially flooded plains before finally dying down to allow the patter of falling rain to be heard once more. On initially hearing the fearsome report, the sentries posted further out from the cave started retreating to shelter. This was the way it had been for some days now since they had first heard the mysterious growls. Whatever was creating the disturbance sounded massive in size and ferocious in temperament. The commanders of the landlocked army certainly did not wish to feed any of their charges to some predatory beast, so the standing orders were to evacuate the outer posts for the relative safety of the cave. The cave’s entrance was then guarded by anyone with more modern firearms including both Gary Wyndham and Carl Buchanan. Even Sean Corrigin took the occasional post, although only at his own inclination.

The members of the battalion armed with more modern weapons believed there was much more of a chance in driving away or even killing the owner of the fearful roar should it attempt to enter their camp and attack its personnel. The rank-and-file Territorian soldiers all felt a deep-seeded gratitude over such resolve by these so-called ‘Beyonders’. They could have easily sat back and relax while some horrible creature devoured the troops at its leisure, but instead they had chosen to take the less than comfortable night watches to address any shortfalls in camp security.

A series of small fires had been set along the entrance to the cave and these modest blazes were constantly kept burning throughout the night. The standard practice was to send a squad into the surrounding terrain to fetch any available wood, even if it was soaked through, which was usually the case. The timber was then stacked up in a high pile to allow the air to flow through, eventually drying their valuable fuel source.

In the evening, as the limited natural light finally dissipated, the three Confederate soldiers stood around the fire to the far left of the entrance. Personally they detested performing such duties, although they fully appreciated the need to do so. Later on one of their number would be relieved to go and get a warm meal. That person would be replaced, probably by one of the redcoat soldiers, who likewise hated standing around all through the night in the freezing cold conditions. Thankfully, they were at least well out of the rain which continued to drizzle away just past the cave’s entrance.

Just how long do we have to keep doing this? Bernard Talbot, the youngest member of the small squad pleaded, rubbing both hands against the increasing chill.

For as long as they need us to, William Hill retorted, his breach-loading Carbine rifle tucked over one shoulder. Anyway, we got the early shift, so at least we can get some sleep later on tonight. Feel some sympathy for the poor fools who’ve got stuck with the later shift. They never get any proper sleep.

Yeah, I suppose so, the youthful soldier grumbled. It’s just that whatever that thing is making those sounds scares the tripe out of me. You just don’t know what’s running around out there.

I still get nightmares over what Ernest told us about those Wenris-Whatever’s that were all over the place when he first got here, Richard Maret commented. He was currently holding his loaded rifle almost as if he fully expected some beast to emerge from out of the surrounding forest at any time. He shook his head in a show of dismay. They eat you while you’re still alive! I can’t get over that!

Do we have to listen to this? Talbot wailed.

Don’t trouble yourself about it, Hill cheerfully assured him. We’ve got enough firepower over here to fight off any problem – no matter how many teeth it has.

Another animalistic roar sounded from out of the darkness. Unfortunately, it was difficult to tell where the cry had originated from on this occasion. It could have emitted from just past the cave’s entrance or much further afield.

Standing at the fire nearest the Confederate soldiers was Scott Stuart. He too had heard the disturbance, although missing such a terrible sound would have been near impossible. He picked up his M-16 which had been resting against a nearby rock and flicked off the safety catch. Usually either he or Wyndham stood watch at that post. The lieutenant always made certain Clarence Field was posted far from the grey uniformed soldiers for obvious reasons. Generally, the Confederate soldiers held an amiable relationship with all of the other members of the battalion – with the notable exception of Field. The standard mode of practice at all times was that he kept well away from them and they kept well away from him.

Did you hear that, Corporal? Hill called to the other soldier.

Yeah, I heard it alright, Scott Stuart called back. Sort of difficult to miss.

Some of the Territorian soldiers had likewise heard the roar and promptly retrieved a variety of weapons. They stood scattered throughout the vast cave, eyes focused on the darkness just past the flickering firelight. Some of the horses corralled to the side began to panic. A couple of the livery staff rushed across to quickly throw some hay and oats into the canvas feeding troughs in an effort to calm these frightened animals. The worst scenario imaginable in this situation would be to have the company’s horses break free and rush from the safety of the cave. No one wished to dwell on the prospect of going into the dark, rainy night to search for their wayward horses; especially not with some obviously huge, vicious beast roaming freely about in the forest.

Nothing more was heard of the horror lurking in the darkness for the remainder of the shift. During the evening, some of the people on watch were relieved to go and enjoy a cooked meal. Once they had eaten and returned, others left to take their place in the mess tent located to the rear of the cave.

In fact, nothing much occurred until well into the second shift in the very early morning. By Gary Wyndham’s estimate, the time was probably about three o’clock in the morning. In all honesty, it really bothered him not being able to tell the time to any great degree simply due to the fact no time pieces operated on this world. Every task was reduced to being a vagary. He could not command any of his troops to perform a function within ten minutes because they either did not comprehend the notion of Earth measurements in regards to time or just had no way of telling if ten minutes had indeed elapsed. So his commands generally amounted to ordering the soldiers to act as quickly as they could – or else!

To Wyndham’s left were a couple of the British soldiers whose names he could not remember and to the fire at his right stood Clarence Field. A couple of the Territorian troops were posted at some of the fires and were armed with their standard military-issue crossbows. The Dearnian guard Boriculin was posted at one fire, although he was only armed with his sword. Wyndham had requested that he at least pick up a crossbow while on watch and had received a low chuckle of amusement for his troubles. Boriculin had assured him that a sword in his hands made him more than a match for whatever beast currently roamed the area. So far as Wyndham was concerned if the tall, dark-haired man wished to get himself and his strange-looking bath robe eaten then that was entirely his business.

Another roar burst from out of the dark, rain shrouded forest. This disturbance caused all conversation to cease at that exact instant. Everyone present picked up their weapons, aiming these armaments towards the source of their anxiety. They continued to be silent, all eyes trained on the nearby line of trees. The creature that had made the disturbing sound had been very close. There was no mistaking the foreign presence in their midst. Almost all of the other soldiers and staff with the battalion