THE CORE WAR II: Calm Before The Storm
Ice Tribe Outpost – The Following Morning
Certavus paced his inner chambers, hands behind his back and contemplating recent events dealing with Ackar's strike force the previous night. From what he could assume, the commander of the Ice Tribe division believed Ackar attempted to bring down the Ice Tribe and take over the ancient Citadel they resided in with a miniscule amount of troops. Six soldiers to be exact. Well, seven, if one counted the reckless hotshot pilot of the Thornatus that took out some of the defenders.
In the midst of that encounter, Certavus's lieutenant, Spike, had been cut down by a Glatorian wielding chakrams. Along with him, his apprentice Surel was severely injured by a heavyset Glatorian whom Certavus identified as Malum. Two powerful figures in the Ice Lord's Army have been removed from play, making the war more difficult for the Ice Tribe.
How am I to turn the tide of war to our end? thought Certavus, They know our forces have been weakened greatly from last night's skirmish and they will strike again.
He then spoke out loud to himself, "Perhaps an action-reaction method. If they strike with such secrecy and minimal amount of force, then our troops should make use of similar tactics." Certavus stroked his chin and imagined whatever possible methods could be executed.
Fire Tribe Camp – Morning
Ackar, Axel, and Perditus stood with their hands behind their backs and heads bowed before two makeshift tombstones. These twin stones were erected for those who had fallen the night before, Bandit the Bone Hunter and the nomad Vorox.
Before the quiet ceremony, a few members of the Ice Tribe had come in peace and brought back the bodies of mercenaries slain the night before. They carried the bodies in woven baskets shrouded in white cloth as a symbol of neutrality to the Fire Tribe. Once the escort left, Ackar and the others dug graves for Bandit and Vorox, erecting the tombstones thereafter.
Ackar recited a passage from the manuscript in his palm. "Today is a day for mourning, and a day for rejoicing. T'is a day when one's duty on this world has been accomplished and it is time for him to leave. Yet t'is also a day when he is brought into the next life to live an eternal life in peace and security.
"Let us remember what deeds were done that made Bandit and Vorox worthy of mentioning." The trio bowed their heads still, lamenting silently through the mind.
Crotesius rolled out from under Perditus's Thornatus and held out a hand to Kyry. "Could you hand me the ratchet?" he asked.
Kyry wasn't listening. The yellow-and-red Agori was mending several dents in his helmet with a small hammer. The task alone was enough to keep Kyry preoccupied and oblivious to his surroundings. It was like a woman's natural instinct with cooking; Kyry tapped the dent's bulge and examined and did so again if not to his liking.
"Kyry," Crotesius called out again, "Could you please hand me the ratchet next to your foot?" Again, no response. He just kept dinging away at his helmet. Crotesius became agitated and gave a shrill whistle.
"Gah!" cried out Kyry, spooked from the sudden whitsle. He dropped his helmet and hammer and swiftly shifted to the mechanic. Crotesius waved at Kyry humorously in a mock hello and pointed again to the tool he requested for twice. The latter turned, grabbed the ratchet, and handed it to the former.
"Imagine yourself if this was an ambush," Crotesius said as he rolled back under the Thornatus.
"Yeah," agreed Kyry, "I really need to focus less on the task at hand. You hear about the volunteers?"
Crotesius looked from under the vehicle. "The nomad and the bone hunter? Yeah, but they did their job for money, not for our sake." He continued patching up the Thornatus's underside. "Perditus sure did a number on this one. I can't stand people who help only for their benefit. We have a word for such people."
Kyry had resumed his project as he spoke. "Phonies?" Crotesius nodded.
"I hope we don't have to deal with anymore phonies. It's just not good business for neither them nor anyone else."
Malum scaled the cliff several thousand meters outside the camp. It was grueling, clinging onto hot rocks that singed you hands and made you lose your grip if you weren't careful. At least it was maybe seven meters high, give or take.
The squat warrior wasn't fond of burials. It wasn't because it was a depressing event or anything similar, but more because he really couldn't show much emotion. He was a rebel, a loner by nature, never tending to talk with his fellow warriors often. The only time Malum ever spoke was when a higher officer, such as Ackar, was speaking only to him.
The Bone Hunter and the Sand Tribe nomad had no connection to him. So he had no reason to attend the burial.
He pulled himself over the edge of the cliff and got his bearings. The red-and-orange Glatorian looked out into the mid-morning sky. From this vantage point, Malum could see much of the landscape. He could see the rest of the mountains to his left and the desert to his right. Straight ahead, a little line protruded from the sand.
The citadel.
They think they can sit in their spire, cradled in its walls without fear, Malum thought, Overconfidence will be their undoing. It will be ours for the taking, and they will shudder at our might.
The squat Glatorian smirked. Ice types could be so prideful. That was the source of their weakness: pride. They think they could overcome anything, especially with Certavus as their leading commander. Malum begged to differ; his injured leg, which only possessed a dull ache now, had done nothing to slow Malum down last night. Ice Tribe warriors would rather retreat after receiving a non-fatal injury.
"Enough of them," he told himself, "just relax and stand guard." So Malum stood and did just that, watching over his fellow warriors like a hawk.
(Cue A Day In Agrabah from Kingdom Hearts II)
NEXT: BACKSTABBER