Monday, February 11, 2013

Troin (Chapter 3 - CREATIONS)


From the Forthcoming Fantasy/Sci-Fi Novel, Creations

3
TROIN


Jonas Udell checked his reflection against a glass table, while he attempted to remove something from his left eye. The young dark-skinned man had short black hair and a thin well-manicured beard.
            “Hope your new eye isn’t failing, Udell. Can’t have you shooting the wrong guy,” Troin Captain, Sammond Muirfield joked patting the young soldier’s back.
            Udell chuckled still watching his reflection, “I’m good just an eye lash. Got it.” He blinked repeatedly as his left eye readjusted.
            “Good. I was hoping your surgery hadn’t gone bad.”
            “No. Corrective surgery went perfectly, no vision problems. I don’t even need my contact lense either,” Udell proudly announced. His eye had been damaged in a battle just outside the city of Medatroy only a month ago, yet a skillful Shiravian doctor transplanted a new eye and his vision was again pristine. Only slight scarring around the edge of his eye socket alluded to his past injury.
            “The things doctors can do now, eh?” Captain Muirfield said half-jokingly, now seated beside Udell watching the underwater scenery flash by through a large window before him. “Ryder, how far are we from Dormi?”
            In the front of the domed ship sat the pilot, Nathan Ryder the third and final member of the Troin. He maneuvered the underwater vessel, called an Ooba, as it sliced through the water at great speed. The ship itself was designed like a tear drop, which pushed through the water with its propulsion engine, and as the water slid down the narrowing backside it aided the ships speed and agility, much like a whale. A large rudder was positioned in the tail section to steer.
            “We are thirty miles out from the mouth of the Obsidian River, Captain.” Ryder spoke with a deep voice and confident tone, like someone who felt at ease in his work. “We will reach the river in less than twenty minutes.”
            “Good,” The Captain replied sounding pleased. “Let me know when we are five miles out, Ryder.”
            “Yes, Sir.”
            Through the glass window Udell watched as schools of orange fish darted away when they approached. Shimmering light from the sun above trickled down through the water aiding their journey, but it wouldn’t be much longer before night would come, making their efforts far more treacherous.
            Captain Muirfield placed his Telliture on top of the glass table and tapped its front with his finger. The device illuminated.
            “Zobier,” Muirfield spoke calling for a specific file. His voice recognition was accepted. His Telliture glowed brightly. Captain Muirfield and Udell stepped back away from the table to see the image that appeared before them. A large scale holographic drawing of the Isle of Dormi and its capital city, Tecian, came into focus in grand detail, down to the swaying branches of the jungle and rushing waters of the Obsidian River.
            “Damn.” Was Udell’s simplistic reply.
            “It never fails to amaze me,” Captain Muirfield added.
            Udell studied the intricate map. It looked lifelike, every detail so clear it was as though he was hovering above the island like a god. He reached out his hand touching a point near the Tecian City. The image blurred momentarily, and zoomed in closer, focusing on the area Udell had selected. His eyes widened. He was standing in the jungle, with no sound.
            “What are you doing?” Captain Muirfield curtly asked. “Are you done? Caz I am working here.”
            “Sorry, Captain.”
            Captain Muirfield gave him a sly wink then placed both hands outstretched into the image. He swung them outward as though he stretched the jungle causing the original map to reappear.
            “Well, then. Let me see.” The captain tapped his index finger against his lips. His narrow face reflected the lights eerily, making his eyes seem like they were missing and all that remained where black spaces.
            “The Elite want us to steer the Ooba up through the river mouth and navigate this channel to the Tecian City.” Captain Muirfield pointed his finger and ran it along the edge of the map being careful not to touch it and alter the image again.
            “How far do you suppose that is?” Udell asked.
            “Fourty-eight point two miles,” shouted Ryder.
            “Well, there’s your answer. Thank you, Ryder.”
            The Ooba pilot peeked around the back of his chair and smiled widely, his bright white teeth gleaming in the poorly lit tub that kept them dry.
            It grew increasingly dimmer outside the Ooba. The sun had almost set.
            “Captain, we are within five miles of the Obsidian River now.”
            “Thank you, again,” Captain Muirfield absently responded; however, he didn’t break focus on the holographic map consuming a great portion of their vessel. He reached out and tapped the mouth of the river. The image blurred like before and then zoomed into the rushing waters. Captain Muirfield scanned the white foamy area for anything dangerous; rocks or trees that may have collapsed in from the jungle, creatures lurking about.
            “How deep are these waters, Captain?” Udell searched for the river’s basin on the image before him.
            Captain Muirfield hesitated to answer, and peered out around to find Nathan Ryder. When his pilot didn’t respond, the captain assumed he was unaware.
            Captain Muirfield began to respond, when the confident voice returned from the front of the ship.
            “Obsidian River is the deepest in all Angora. Its average depth is nearly eight-hundred feet.”
            Udell and Captain Muirfield shared a chuckle and shook their heads.
            “What an ass,” Udell barbed.
            “What?” Ryder called unable to hear.
            “You’re an ass!” Udell shouted in laughter. He was the joker in the group, and rarely lost the opportunity to jab at Ryder.
            Ryder didn’t appear very pleased.
            Captain Muirfield and Udell’s attention quickly returned to the map and followed it up the river. It wouldn’t be very dangerous, unless detected by the Dormeans.
            “Our goal is to find a safe place to dock the Ooba, and then debark and enter the city near the waterfall,” The captain explained.
            “Wait, waterfall?” Udell said in shock.
            “You don’t know about the waterfall!” Ryder shouted. He usually got worked up when someone didn’t know something that he believed was common knowledge.
            “No, what about it, Teach!” Udell snarked, knowing full well that Ryder would most certainly explain. These three had been working together now for months spending much of their time with one another. Udell was well aware of how much Ryder loved to share his wealth of knowledge.
            “It is the crowning jewel of the island. The Obsidian River flows directly through the Tecian City and cascades down the backside of the island into the Biln Ocean.” He said as though reciting it directly from an encyclopedia. “The entire island gathers its power from the rushing waters falling over the cliff,” Ryder eagerly explained.
            “So the damn river goes through the city! I have to see this,” Udell crassly exclaimed. He wasn’t one for political correctness and often said whatever was on his mind.
            “Actually, it goes through the capital building,” Captain Muirfield added, reaching through the hologram and tapping the Telliture closing the image. “And it’s pretty amazing.”
            Captain Muirfield enjoyed working with these two men, even though they quarreled like school boys most of the time. He just ignored that for the most part. Ryder was the best pilot in Angora, as far as he was concerned, and Udell was an accomplished weapons expert. Together they formed a Troin that had become a very dangerous weapon for the Shirum Elite, and Shiravian Deluge, as they worked for both.
           
            Ryder gripped the control stick firmly as the Ooba darted toward the foamy, churning waters at the mouth of the Obsidian River. The rushing sounds from earlier had changed drastically now. A steady pinging sound echoed through the Ooba’s hull as the raging waters from the river poured over them slamming rocks and wooden decay from the jungle around its banks.
            “Look out!” Udell hollered as a large black object barreled down upon them.
            Ryder sent the Ooba diving down. The object was swept into their flow stream and it harmlessly zipped past. Then another larger piece appeared, and Ryder rolled the vessel to the right, and back left. More objects, some rocks and chunks of debris churned up in the water hurtling toward them. Through the Ooba’s thick glass window, the three Troin members could see just how dangerous this mission had become. The mood grew somber, crew silent.
            Maybe this is going to be more difficult than I thought? Captain Muirfield thought. This river seems like its testing us.
Ryder desperately steered them through the labyrinth, but couldn’t avoid them all. He ascended narrowly escaping again. His latest maneuver had brought them perilously close to cresting above the river. At the river’s edge, a large section gave way to the current’s brute force. The water swept away a great piece of land forcing it into the depths below. A wide tree remained behind, roots exposed, dangling for dear life above the cackling mists. The water nipped at it, snatching and grabbing the roots. The tree fought valiantly, but finally succumb to the rivers might and splashed down. It pierced the river like a knife and cut directly toward the Ooba.
“Ryder!” Captain Muirfield bellowed.
“I see it!” Ryder exclaimed as he steered the vessel against the ever shifting current. The objects in the water caused the currents to alter rapidly.
            The crew shouted as the Ooba swung violently to its side. Udell crashed hard into the glass table fracturing it, yet it held together.
            The tree scrapped along-side the Ooba, its branches smashing and breaking off along the steel framed vessel. The Ooba flipped and spun in a circle before coming to a rest upside down.
            “Right us!” Captain Muirfield demanded gripping the pilot chair, legs dangling toward the Ooba’s ceiling.
            Ryder whipped the control stick righting the vessel. Captain Muirfield and Udell fell to the floor.
            Outside the river calmed.
            “We are through the river mouth, Captain.”
           
            Udell grimaced as Captain Muirfield pushed the warm needle through his forehead. A thin line of blood trailed down around his eye, rolled across his cheek and dripped from his bearded chin, a wound courtesy of his tumbling about the Ooba like a shirt in the dryer. Captain Muirfield bit his lip cautiously as he focused on the task at hand, attempting to stitch the line as evenly as possible, which was difficult as the Ooba randomly bounced in the free flowing waters of the river.
            The waters were clearer now, but dark and extremely deep. They travelled nearly three hundred feet below sea level, yet the river’s bottom was impossible to see. 
            The Shiravian Troin’s uniforms were identical to that of their brethren the Deluge, except for one detail, the color was a deep navy blue. It made it difficult to see the blood stains on Udell’s uniform even from up close.
            Captain Muirfield handed Udell a bloodied rag when he had finished stitching the gash on the soldier’s forehead.
            “It isn’t the greatest stitch job ever, but it will have to do. I’m sorry. This damn thing is bouncing too much.” Captain Muirfield wiped his hands clean of the blood. He sighed heavily.   The mood was drastically different now. They were closing in upon their destination.
            “Ryder,” the captain called.
            “Yes, Sir,” Ryder replied never removing his sight from the dark waters before him fearing that something might jump out at that very moment.
            “Any sign of our enemies?” The Captain had been forewarned of Dormean activity in these waters just outside the Tecian City. Governess Zobier had taken many precautions in keeping herself safe. The Elite had spoken of small-manned vessels that were used to travel underwater and guard the city from intruders…like them.
            Ryder checked his sonar. “Nothing, Sir. Except debris it appears. It is hard to tell though. We are seven miles out. If we are going to find resistance, it should be now,” Ryder detailed hands remained firmly upon the steering mechanism.
            Udell remained seated on the cold steel floor dabbing the damp cloth against his freshly stitched wound. Well this isn’t going very well. We haven’t even arrived yet and I’m already bleeding.
The injured soldier closed his eyes. His head pulsed with a dull ache. Captain Muirfield had given him a shot of medicine to help with the pain, but it was weak compared to the now illegal, Aspitor, the once approved pain-reliever for the military before it was found to be addictive.
When Udell opened his eyes again everything seemed so far away. The sounds reverberated, elongating their pitch. His heart slowed to keep rhythm with the propulsion system that aided them within the current. A tingling sensation arose in his fingers and toes. Udell raised his right hand to his face, examining his fingers. Each seemed longer than before, knife-like yet brittle. How much blood have I lost, he thought. He didn’t feel dizzy or faint, just stretched.

            In the dark, warm, rapidly flowing waters of the Obsidian River, two Bubblans released into the waters. These small-manned vessels were agile, and shaped much like the Ooba. Inside, the Dormean operator lay flat on his stomach and pulled on levels at their sides to control the Bubblans movements. It would be difficult for them to attack a vessel, even one as small as the Ooba, Bubblans were designed for travel not warfare. It would, however, allow the Dormeans to secretly observe the Shiravian trespassers attempting to enter the Tecian City.

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Copyright Held by: Christopher M. Purrett

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