Rise of the Vanguard

  Contents

  Title

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Patreon

  Socials

  RISE OF THE VANGUARD

  A NOVUM SOLIS TALE

  MATT DAWSON

  Blurb

  A Measured Descent Into Madness

  How far is too far to save the ones you love? A mysterious alliance is made known. With the Rangers running out of time, do they have what it takes to hold the line for Etrusca? New troubles arise when Acara encounters The Symbiote, and her decision with how to deal with it. Can she figure out how to deal with the new threat that arises?

  Machined hearts is a short serial based in a post-post apocalyptic sandal punk world. It touches upon the topics of what it means to be human, facing the challenges of changes in the human heart, and how technology shapes the way humans interact.

  It explores ideas on how humans would change long after the fall of civilization that leaves behind advanced technology few know how to use, and the ramifications for those on both sides of the knowledge gap.

  For Mom.

  Chapter 1

  When Plesik smashed into the water, his first thought, even before air, was ensuring he still had the device. Having just been launched from the top-most floor of fortress that was the seat of his power, this small grey rectangle with white buttons and chrome toggles was the only bit of leverage he had left.

  The waves violently thrashed Plesik against the cliff side. Sea water washed into his mouth as he bit down upon the device.

  Having only one arm, he struggled keep his face above water in the tumultuous sea. He kicked his legs wildly, struggling to keep his head above the surface. Air was a luxury. The sharp rocky cliff face offered no chance for grip.

  Flipping himself around, he dragged his back against the jagged rock wall in a futile attempt to save himself from a watery grave. Teeth squeezed the tiny machine, his desperation to hold on whitened his lips. He kicked and thrashed his arm as hard as he could at the sight of lightning striking the sea in the distance ahead of him, the harsh crack of thunder only raising his tension.

  Undertow beckoned him to the sea. He clawed with his hand and feet at the rock wall as the rip current threatened to draw him in. The only constant was the excess of salt water. He rounded the edge of the cliff and found a small beach ahead. The sight of land instilled resolve.

  Still enraged, the sea was done with him, tossing him ashore. He rode the wall of water and slammed well over five body lengths away from the water line. Salty brine was replaced with sand and mud. The sensation of land beneath his feet gave him just enough strength to drag himself the short distance to the caves etched in the cliffs before the beach.

  Rain washed his face clean of any sand. The cave, though thoroughly flooded from runoff, was better than trying to endure the driving storm exposed.

  He cowered in the highest point he could find, squatted down, and tucked his head between his knees.

  Rays of sunlight beating upon his neck woke Plesik from his otherwise deep slumber. His atrophied muscles shivered as he stood. He climbed up through the cave to the top of the bluffs. Birds chirped in the distance. It was hard to tell that there was a storm in the grasslands last night. That, or the peaceful serenity of the plains was a sign he was dead and didn’t know it.

  He brushed himself off as best he could and made for the woods, the device firmly in his grip. He knew his destination, but not the state it was in. The nub on his arm was sore for the entire three day trip. He was too exhausted to even process his short trip in the sea.

  By dusk of the third night, he came upon a little hut, in the middle of a swamp. He pulled desperately on the handle, struggling to pull open the door, yet more mud and water fighting him. This place wasn’t a swamp when he first started it, in fact it was just a little desert oasis. Once he powered this place up, everything changed.

  He narrowly fell down as he descended the makeshift stairway, the rotting wood threatening to collapse with each step. Below, he punched in some sort of combination with his finger on a keypad. Steam blew out from a metal bay door that started opening as he finished punching in the combination.

  He could barely keep his head upright as the doors cranked and grinded open. Little drones rolled out, pushing mud and water away from the entry as he stepped through the gateway, three men wide, two high.

  Activity spun to life as he descended through the wide corridors, the sleepy walkways filling with light as the lamps above awoke. Various machines hopped up and crawled as they came to life, mopping up blood and dirt behind Plesik as he walked.

  He finally got to a large workbench and sat down. On the wall, several metal arms were pinned up on an array of hangers. He dropped the rectangular device on the bench, then stared ahead for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. Suddenly his head dropped, and smacked against the bench.

  He came to, feeling much less groggy than before. He looked at his arm, tiny tubing was pierced into it, a bag of clear liquid hung up on the bench behind him. He looked at his other arm, and a frame was on it, bent over and resting on the table much like his natural arm was.

  He had the strength to actually sit upright. A small drone rolled over to him, prodding Plesik in the shoulder. It then gripped him on his upper arm, wrapping around it some sort of cloth that stuck to itself. The tightness woke him up even more. The tension was almost unbearable, but the bot released him before he broke. It then rolled up closer to his face, shining bursts of light in it. He waved it off, not wanting to deal with its nonsense any further.

  Prodding at his artificial limb, Plesik knocked over the stool he was sitting on to rummage through his toolbox, yanking several tools out upon the bench, grumbling before finally finding the wrench he was looking for. The artificial arm was locked in place. When he tried to move it, the gyroscope in the attachment’s shoulder overcompensated, almost pushing him to the ground.

  He groaned, smacking the arm with the wrench. It gave up trying to move with a dejected whir. He slid the wrench between the thin skeletal supports and tugged at the nut as hard as possible. “Grease!” he demanded, continuing to tug on the metal with no effect. A small spheroid machine came around, blasting it with a strange powder.

  The nut loosened up with a solid yank on the wrench. He tried to move his arm again, this time the rotational force was much less, and the arm relaxed. Plesik tightened the gear mechanism with deliberate force, then readjusted the fastening connecting it to his shoulder. He was able to freely move his arm.

  Still admiring the ease of which the arm was now moving, Plesik got a strange feeling he was being watched. He looked up and saw a person standing on the other side of the bench. He jumped back in shock. She wore a purple hood adorned with gold threading, and had a black bar on each of the shoulders of her short violet cloak attached to her hood. She placed her hand on the workbench. “Solara,” Plesik placed his arm at his side and backed away from his worktable.

  “Our queen demands a report.” She placed a small spherical item on the table and pressed the button at the top, flooding the room with blue light.

  “What have I told you about failing me? Your incompetence knows no bounds. Kimlich, do it.” A voice rang out from the orb. A face lit up in its center, facing the purple mage.

  “My queen, I have your audience as reque…” Solara was cut off by the shrill cry in in the background. The sound of ripping and tearing rang out, and the hollow sound of a head smacking into solid stone.

  “Solara, what have I told you about interrupting me?” The queen scowled.

  “My apo
logies. It won’t happen again. Your report, as requested.”

  Plesik straightened up as Solara turned the face towards him. He looked down, his hands instinctively covering his pelvis, a sudden fearful tremor showing across his features.

  “So? “The queen said.

  “My queen. I uh…” Plesik looked at Solara. “I do not have m…much to report right now, there were some setbacks…”

  “Setbacks?”

  “Y…yes, unfortunately the device did not function as anticipated…”

  “I do not care about your musings. I gave you orders! And?”

  Plesik shifted uncomfortably.

  “U…unfortunately my queen, the entire colony was lost. The…the priestess resisted, despite my rigorous testing…”

  “I. Don’t. Care! I told you to dispose of her, and you disobeyed me?!”

  “N…never my queen, I would never be so bold as to disobey you. I will carry your orders out to the letter. Please, give me time to fulfill your will…”

  The queen turned her head up and away from Plesik. A scowl slowly panting across her face. She looked away in thought. The scowl dissipated as fast as it had onset.

  “Fine. You should say your blessings tonight to me for giving you yet another undue chance at such an endeavor. This will not be a repeat opportunity.”

  “Y…your majesty, my family…” the face disappeared, and the blue hue vanished.

  Plesik stood in silence, staring at Solara. She scooped up the orb. It compacted into a flat disk. She deposited it at her hip, just under the short cloak.

  “Good luck.” She said, leaving through the door. As she crossed the gateway, she turned around and raised her eyebrows, and catching a glance at Plesik. She looked at the workbench before him, then continued on her way.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Plesik stumbled backwards against the table behind him. He was short of breath, starting to sweat profusely. He turned around and started scouring the stacks of hardcover books on a shelf to his side, furiously throwing them to the ground after looking at the cover.

  He stopped, finding a book with a drawing of what looked to be a very angular manta ray titled “Siopaphren.” He slammed it on his workbench, holding himself up over it with his hands for a moment in thought before voraciously tearing through it.

  Chapter 2

  Dermal regeneration complete.

  Combat system returning to sleep mode.

  Emotion emulation set to real time priority.

  Initiating scan on target…

  Leiel’s gazed washed over Gessich’s cocoon. She checked his vitals again for the fifth time in as many minutes. She remained sentinel, statuesque,while she repeated this ritual. She had expected that he would wake up by now, but the fact he was still sleeping had her worried.

  Hawk company flooded in from the top branches. Fox and the Myrmidon sprinted side-by-side down the little dirt road. As the group fanned out, Acara, Matas, and Rex formed a circle with Leiel around the boy. The cohort sprawled out, surrounding the ruined fortress. Fire continued to burn throughout the center tower despite the recent rain. The walls were mostly intact, though the area around the portcullis was in shambles. The outer towers were mostly untouched, except for one overlooking the cliffside, which had a portcullis gate wedged in it.

  Myrmidon inspected the drawbridge planted in the ground. Hawk Rangers climbed up in an attempt to move the outer gate, but it was seized up entirely. Fox company did a full circle around the outer perimeter, looking for any signs of tracks.

  Acara was bewildered at the sight of the fortress in ruins. They had tracked Leiel all the way here after getting her distress signal. Acara was frustrated at the speed Leiel could move over land. “What the hell happened?” She looked on at the ruined fortress. Stone brick crumbled in the breeze. Bodies were trapped up against the the portcullis gate, which was still in the locked down position. Leiel stood in silence for a moment, she thought about the past few days, and tried her best to figure out how to break the news. “The Vanguard have returned.” she checked Gessich’s forehead with her hand, it was normal.

  Acara snapped around. “The Vanguard of the Old World?” Leiel nodded, checking the boy’s forehead yet again.

  “They have the Manus Dei.”

  Acara adjusted her collar, turning back to the tattered fortress. This wasn’t news she was ready for. At best, it was an unnecessary distraction from their current mission to reinforce the Etruscans at their outer military colony against the Samnians threatening to overrun them. With this, they were at least a day late and now the entire cohort was over-marched. At worst, this meant certain disaster for everything Acara had been working towards.

  Matas had been pacing on the destroyed drawbridge, trying to figure out what happened. He conversed with the Myrmidon, shrugging at them as he kicked the raised dirt and stone with his toes. Acara echoed out a sharp whistle and his attention whipped to her. He shook his head and started moving towards Acara.

  “Did you get rid of it?” Acara looked at Leiel.

  “I am unsure. The person possessing it did not stick around long enough for me to confirm.”

  Acara looked at the sun, it beating firmly overhead. She raised her hand halfway into the air, and whisked her finger around in a circle. Leaves rustled and a man stood up, foliage clinging to his outfit. He rushed over to her.

  “We need to be on the path to Des Compte immediately, this distraction is costing us valuable time.” Acara pointed back the way the cohort came. The Ranger nodded, pulling out a small bone horn. He blew two short pulses followed by a single long. Trees danced as the Hawks filed out the same way they had come in.

  “What are you going to do with him and…that thing?” Acara pointed at the Esperitus.

  “They are coming with us.” Leiel responded, hefting the cocoon in her arms.

  “We’re not taking an Esperitus with us.” Acara squared up with Leiel. She folded her arms, and widened her stance. Leiel stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder.

  “Do you propose abandoning him here?”

  Acara sighed, looking down at her shoes in frustration.

  “Let me get this straight.” she looked back to Leiel. “You just assaulted a Vanguard stronghold.”

  “Yes.”

  “And they had a weapon, no the weapon that can manipulate machines.”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t know where that device is.”

  “No.”

  “And you don’t find a problem with leaving said place with an unknown child and his…Esperitus?”

  “No.”

  Acara scratched the back of her head. “You’re forcing my hand. Neither the boy nor the beast is coming with us.”

  “Then this is where we part ways. Goodbye.” Leiel turned and continued down the Ranger’s former path.

  Acara gritted her teeth while she watched Leiel march away with the boy in her arms. She placed her hands on her hips, and grumbled, shaking her head at Leiel, her blood coming to a boil.

  “Fine! You’re responsible for him, though!”

  Leiel stopped and placed the cocoon back on the ground. This was not a card she liked to play unless she had to, but with Gessich in such a vulnerable state, she had no choice.

  “As per usual.”

  Matas approached the boy, looking him over. He scratched his head, looking at Leiel. “I’m sure it will be fine.” He nodded. Leiel gave a mild smile.

  The boy rustled and opened his eyes. The fox Esperitus, Fenek, wiggled and shimmied its way out from the tightly woven bundle. It sat, looking up at Matas, and cocked its head. Matas responded in turn.

  “What’s wrong with taking him along?” Matas looked up at Acara and wagged his finger in Fenek’s face. Still sitting down, the fox looked over and sunk his fangs into the tip of Matas’ finger. Matas recoiled back in pain, grabbing his hand. “He’s not coming with us! This thing is dangerous, why would you even think this was a good idea?!”

 
Acara shook her head and threw her hands up at him, then looked up after the Rangers moving back through the forest. She folded her arms while she watched the shadows in the tree line darting around. Matas walked over to her, still rubbing his finger with his opposite hand. “What’s the problem?” Acara rested her hand on the hilt of her sword and shook her head, still looking on at the Hawks passing over head as if she were driving cattle.

  “I don’t like it.” She said.

  Matas looked back to Gessich, who had just sat up, groggy from his long slumber. “What, the kid?” He looked back at her.

  “The thing with the kid.” She said, pointing behind her in Fenek’s general direction. She stepped forward and let out a sharp whistle, and shouted at the Hawks overhead for having too loose of a formation as they were crossing the canopy. The pattern of the silhouettes overhead shifted.

  Matas looked back. Fenik pressed its snoot against Gessich’s head for a moment before nuzzling him.

  “You’re afraid of that thing?” He rubbed his finger.

  “I don’t know if you remember, but we have a history of putting those things down. Now we’re carting them around? Tell me you have more sense than that. On top of all things, we don’t even know if Leiel is well. For all we know she’s…” Acara looked down at the ground for a moment. “…she might not be well.”

  Matas looked back at Leiel who was keeping a close eye on Gessich. He shook his head. “There’s no reason for you to even think that.”

  Acara turned and squared up with him. “Enlighten me, what makes you think that any of this smells of roses?”

  “He’s just a kid. What are you going to do, put him down because you don’t trust him?”

  Acara looked over Matas’ shoulder. She stared at Gessich for a moment, then turned back to Matas.

  “No. But I also don’t have to like it.” She turned back, watching the Hawks file out via the upper tree branches.