• Published 13th Apr 2014
  • 1,751 Views, 81 Comments

Flying With Damaged Feathers - hornethead



A pilot with a deformity, an unorthodox comapnion and a problem with authority suffers a strange accident.

  • ...
7
 81
 1,751

Chapter 23: Lost In The Dark

Chapter 23: Lost In The Dark

Tiran huddled near the group of soldiers protecting him in the dense collection of trees, wondering what it was they would do now. Though the close collection of trees they hid in was cramped, he felt exposed without a fire or some other source of light to gather around. Unfortunately, any light might give away their position to their pursuers, so they would do without.

Sparks was a short distance away, murmuring into his radio's microphone, "Damage...how bad? That so... Copy that. You did a good job, Flyway. Stand off until you receive further orders. Sparks out." His shoulders slumped as he cut the connection. As he returned to the group, all looked up towards him expectantly, ready to hear their fate. "The pegasi from the hostiles are harassing our ride," he said to his team, sweeping his gaze over them. "We can't expect extraction until either they leave or we eliminate them. Seeing as how they're leaving the search to their ground team, it might be a while."

The rest of the operators quietly groaned.

"I know, I know," he said with a placating tone. "There is some good news, however. Intel gathered at the house suggests that our resident mad scientist, Q, is hiding in the woods some where around here with other personnel she escaped with. Fortunately, they escaped in one of our airships. So the plan is this..."

Tiran found his attention drawn to the Commander like a lodestone. They were still going after Quick Fix and Flicker. Ruwa would be with them, hopefully safe. all he wanted to do was to find her and get her some place where he wouldn't have to worry about her getting into some sort of trouble. then he could focus on figuring out a way to re-take the Cloudburst and maybe get back to his own world.

The plan Sparks laid out was simple. Three fire teams would fan out in front, looking for any signs of their quarry. Two more would take up the rear, watching for their pursuers. Thirdly. One stand-alone team—consisting of Sylver, Nightlash and a short stallion named simply 'Trunk'—would run interference, needling chasing hostiles with quick guerilla attacks as the vanguard called them out and drawing them off the main group and onto fake trails. In the center of the group would be Sparks—directing the entire operation—and Tiran, who wasn't allowed to stray farther than ten feet from Sparks in any direction.

They spread out, slowly. Trepidation hung all around them like a thick mist, hidden in every shadow of every tree. The moon rose at its grinding pace, a thick wedge cut out of it, giving the silvery body the appearance of an apple slice carved from radiant marble.

Tiran tried to tread as softly as he could, but winced as every step of his thick boots seemed to find every dead leaf in the forest. Each footfall released a sound not unlike shattering glass to his ears. Despite his hard hooves, Sparks didn't seem to experience the same problem. His steps were fluid, allowing his form to gently swish among the caliginous growth.

The surrounding darkness seemed to cling to Tiran. He reached around and unhooked the submachine gun from the small of his back and flipped it on. A small whine answered him as the magnets spun up, quickly dying out as the sound moved to higher frequencies. It worked on the same principles as his pistol, only with more ammunition to burn and a far higher rate of fire. It didn't do much to pacify his feelings of dread, but it helped.

"Must you keep that on?" Sparks hissed at him.

Tiran looked and saw the stallion glaring at him. He also noticed Sparks' ears twitching involuntarily as if he were trying to rid himself of a particularly persistent fly and realized that his ears couldn't pick up the high frequency sound the gun was emitting, Sparks' probably could.

"Sorry..." Tiran muttered and distanced himself from the commander.

He made sure to keep himself well within sight, but far enough away that the gun's function would no longer pester the unicorn.
Tiran pulled his helmet on as he walked, sealing it in place. His breath was loud and ragged in the confined space for a moment, until the environmental system kicked in and provided some airflow. he resisted the urge to play some music through the speakers, as comforting as that would be in such an uncertain situation. He knew he couldn't afford the distraction.

Even so, he couldn't help keeping his mind from wandering. Despite the danger of the situation, other thoughts tugged at the back of his head, causing him to occasionally stumble as his foot caught on an exposed root or a loose rock. Thoughts of the man in the house—now most likely dead—and thoughts of the strange apparition he'd met in the same place.

He didn't know wether or not the conversation he'd had had been real. It seemed real enough to him. But why hadn't anyone else noticed the odd muscled man standing in the room with him? Even if he some how slipped away, surely some one would have, should have, noticed his departure.

But not even Li had any record of him ever being there neither auditory nor visual.

It made him doubt himself. It made him doubt his own judgement, his very mind. The specter's words were even more unsettling. The man had questioned why Tiran was there, but wether or not he meant the house or the world... Tiran didn't have an answer.

"Tiran!" He looked over his shoulder, still keeping a steady pace. Sparks was staring at him madly and galloping in his direction. "Watch where the hell you're going!"

Tiran was about to say something about having to be quiet when he took his next step and found that the ground had suddenly vanished. As he went over the edge, Tiran flailed his hands and arms, inadvertently casting his gun into the murky depths of the surprise chasm.

The fall turned out not to be as bad as he thought, just steep and long. It was a number of minutes before Tiran finally came to a halt at the bottom of the incline, after tumbling so far down the near vertical slope of gravel and scree. Little pebbles and chunks of granite continued to plink and rattle against his suit, having been loosened and dislodged by his decent.

Tiran opened his eyes, mentally going over his body for any hurts or injuries. Fortunately, he'd thought to put on his helmet and wasn't seriously wounded except for some bruises. Just inches from his face was his gun, scratched and scuffed but no worse for the wear. He got to his knees and reached for it.

The speakers crackled as something came over the radio, "You ok down there?" came Sparks' voice, distorted by the small speakers.

Tiran stretched upright and gazed up the sharp incline he'd tumbled down. Sparks was a small dark figure peering down at him from the lip of the edge. "Yeah, just some bruises."

"That was a damn fool thing of you to do, you know that?"

"Oh no, that was totally a fun thing I did there!" Tiran spat back at his own microphone. "Can't wait to do it again."

"Cut the fucking sarcasm. Ugh, we need to find a way to get you out of there."

"I could try and climb out," Tiran offered.

Grabbing the submachine gun, he clipped it to his back and leapt onto the apron of loose rock. Furiously, he shoveled his hands into the gravel and pumped his legs. It was useless though. He only made it fifteen feet before the rocks became too loose and he slid back down to the bottom again.

"That didn't work," Sparks snorted. "Any more bright ideas?"

Tiran shrugged, even though Sparks wouldn't be able to see it, "You got a rope?"

"Unfortunately, no. That's all back on the airship."

"Well then I guess I'm shit outta luck, smart guy."

"I have a suggestion," Li said, bursting in over the channel. "The patterns within the rock at the bottom of this ravine suggest it was carved over a length of time by a now extinct stream or river."

"What're you getting at Li?" Tiran asked.

"It means that—"

"Eventually, it'll lead you out to a dry lake bed or some flat land, maybe both," Sparks interrupted. "Jeez Tiran, your computer's smarter than you."

Tiran crossed his arms, craning his neck up at Sparks, "Not always."

"Negative, merely nearly always. And Commander, I am not a simple computer." she finished with a buzz to her artificial voice Tiran did not know she was capable of producing.

"Of course, of course..." The unicorn glanced around, as if searching for a way down. "Well, this is now FUBAR. Can't put the rest of the team down there with you, it'd be a target shoot if we were found. Tell you what; go ahead and follow the wash. We'll meet up with you later."

"But you'll still try to find Ruwa and the others, right?" Tiran asked.

They both paused, spinning around as four lonely shots echoed through the forest. Sparks withdrew for a moment, tucking his head to his chest as he spoke quietly with some one on a different channel. A moment later, he returned.

"Get going, Tiran. We'll try our best." With that, he pulled away and disappeared, the radio going silent.

Tiran cursed to himself and started off down the dry stream bed at the bottom of the ravine. It was slow going for him, as the angle of the sides kept the moon and stars from providing any kind of adequate light. Twice he stumbled and had to catch himself on the sharp, crumbling walls.

He wondered just how far the river bed went and wether or not following it was as good an idea as it seemed or if he should be looking for a way out somewhere. Along the way, the tops of the wall began to widen, but the bottom became narrower. In some spots, he had to squeeze through, the outer plates of his armor producing a chillingly piercing squeal as they scraped against shards of slate protruding from the rock.

A far more spine tingling sound caused Tiran to stop. A rapid string of gunshots tore through the air. Tiran crouched and waved his gun around, scanning the edges of the ravine as he listened. The gunfire didn't sound far off, it almost overpowered the loud, uncertain breaths that began to fill his helmet.

He'd never been in a gun fight before, at least not one where he hadn't been rocking a nice twenty-five millimeter slung underneath him. He wondered if he had what it took, if they came for him. If he could stand on the ground and shoot another sentient being and watch them die. Or if he could allow the same to happen to him.

After a moment of thought, he decided he didn't have to find out.

Obeying the strident will of his limbs, Tiran turned and bolted down the river bed even as the firefight grew louder, closer.

His mouth became dry. His throat became raw as with each breath, each step, he expelled more moisture, fogging up his helmet's visor. Tiran looked over his shoulder as he ran. Something flashed and lit up the trees visible beyond the rim of the ravine, coating them with a stark whiteness.

Tiran was running at such a furious clip now that by the time he turned his head back to the front, he was already over the edge. A dark and stygian pit appeared as if from the world immaterial. He fell just as his mind registered the danger he had cast himself into.

His cry was hoarse in his throat as he plummeted, the inky rock walls racing up past him. Below, Tiran could discern not a single thing, it was as if all the shadows of the world had converged to rest at a single point beneath him, permanently hiding whatever lay beyond them in a swirling concentration of night.

The impact was more surprising than the fall.

To Tiran, it suddenly felt as if he'd impacted bodily onto a surface of concrete. A second later, the concrete gave way to liquid. After recovering from the initial shock, Tiran realized that he was sinking. Thankfully, the suit insulated him from the chill and from the shock of impact, sparing him serious injury.

Nothing could be seen past his visor, but Tiran was entirely aware of the fact that he was continuing in a lazy drift downward. There was a gurgle and an electric buzz as his suit switched over to internal air. He mentally patted himself on the back for wearing his helmet this time.

Chancing detection, he activated the red LED bulb on the side of his helmet, giving him a modicum of dull, russet illumination in the dark brackish soup he found himself in.

He flinched and flailed as an animal's skull appeared before his eyes, staring back at him, terror gripping his chest. His hand knocked it aside, sending it tumbling back into the darkness.

Tiran's toes grazed the bottom. then his feet settled into the silt with a bump, sending silky veils of mud billowing up all around him. The glow of the submachine gun's status lights suffused the clouds with a blue-ish tinge. They flickered and died as the water seeped its way into the gun's circuits and shorted them.

He grabbed it before it could sink into the mud and clipped it to his back. He cursed, knowing it would be a while before he could fix it. The gun was hardy and could survive and function in a number of environments, but wasn't designed to be submerged at any depth more than a few feet.

Thinking carefully, Tiran began to move forward, cautious not to stir up any more silt and further obscure his vision. A rough rocky wall materialized, shot through with roots and cracks, like a clump of many snakes breaking apart the earth for their den. He grasped one of the roots and gave it a good tug. It held well to the earth.

It took him some time, but Tiran was able to extricate himself from the foul pit he'd fallen into. Water dripped and dribbled, pattering softly onto the rock around him as it drained off his suit. Somewhere, small fans whined into motion as the suit switched back over to external air.

Tiran froze in a crouched position and listened, eyes scanning the tops of the walls above him. He heard not a sound, not a whisper, save for the wind in the trees. The silence was even more unnerving to him than if he'd been met with a hail of gunfire.

He took short, tentative steps down the wash. His eyes never left the walls. After a few feet, Tiran's nerve got to him and he pulled out his gauss pistol and switched it on. The status lights lit up, then blinked a few short times before dying completely.

"Goddammit, no!" he turned it over and smacked the side a few times, willing the piece of deadly technology to work. he gave it a few shakes and water seeped from between its seems. "You gotta be fucking kidding me!" Tiran hissed to himself.

"Yeah, you just can't rely on overly-complicated technology." Tiran tensed and, out of reflex, raised his pistol in the direction of the unexpected voice. He relaxed when he saw who it belonged to, but only slightly and he kept the pistol level. "I thought we already established that the firearm was no longer working," said the man with the sandy hair, standing there at the edge of the rippling water.

"What are you doing here?" Tiran demanded. "I thought you lived back at that house."

Unperturbed, the man strode forward and walked past Tiran, who still kept him in his sights, "If you remember, I never actually said I lived there. You just assumed I did."

"What?"

"Oh, and if you still intend on threatening me, I suggest you switch over to your other pistol. If the ammo quality is good, the powder in the cartridges should still be dry, though I wouldn't waste them on me."

Tiran tilted his head at the man in a confused doubt, but stowed the gauss pistol and pulled out the old recoil operated one from the holster under his shoulder. It emitted a satisfying clack as he pulled the slide and chambered the first round. "Keep an eye on him Li, don't let him out of sight," he whispered into his mic.

'Let whom out of sight?'

Tiran faltered, "What? The man, the man walking away, right in front of me!"

'Tiran...' Li said with concern, 'there is no one else present.'

"Bullshit..."

"C'mon," the man called from on ahead, "we still got a long walk!"

Tiran lowered his pistol, then shoved it back into his holster. He started forward, keeping his eyes focused intently on the man leading the way. "Li, switch to thermal," he ordered as he watched the man's body move.

His helmet's display flickered then shifted, projecting a false color image for Tiran to see. The walls of the deep ravine were a mixture of deep and dark blues. Ahead of him, where the man should be, was nothing but black nothingness. Tiran raised a hand into his vision, it glowed green, orange, and red. He switched the display back to normal. The man was there again, partially hidden by Tiran's hand and still striding confidently along.

The little experiment freaked Tiran out a tiny bit. What it meant was that the man walking along and absently humming to himself wasn't actually, physically there. Did that mean he was a ghost? Or was it all just taking place in Tiran's head? If so, why couldn't Li at least detect any anomalies within his brain's processes?

It raised too many questions that Tiran didn't know wether or not he wanted the answers for. He tried to push it from his mind, it wasn't something important within the grasp of his current situation. Still, it lingered in the back of his mind, like a dark predator stalking him through the brush.

Tentatively, Tiran resumed the walk, quickly catching up with the man and falling into step a short distance behind. Tiran studied him as he walked. He seemed to have a well balanced gait, his center of gravity shifting in tune with each step over the uneven terrain. He had an odd posture about him as well, like he was constantly expecting an attack and would be prepared to counter it no matter where or when it would happen. To Tiran, it looked like a man who knew how to kill easily and was always ready to do so.

The thought put him a little on edge.

The ravine eventually began to widen. It became shallower as well, the walls sloping down until they were now walking along a small wash. The trees grew thick and clustered around the banks, giving Tiran the feeling that he were still in the ravine.

Ahead, the strange man turned and disappeared through a gap between the trees. Tiran hesitated, unsure of wether or not he should follow. He wasn't sure if the man was here to help, or lead him into some unseen trap.

Tiran knew that just standing around indecisively was just as likely to get him killed, so after a short debate, he followed.

The dense forest closed in around Tiran, blotting out even the moon and the stars. Wary of bumping into something or running into some unseen threat, Tiran switched to his night vision. The world turned to a ghostly green as the HUD in his visor made the transition. Oddly enough, the man remained in sight, though in subdued colors.

They trekked silently together for a bit. Then, without preamble, the man rounded a trunk and simply vanished. Tiran tried to follow, but found himself alone, the woods now empty except for himself. He felt his panic rise a little, but forced it back.

He'd had so many more questions for the man. Just when Tiran thought he was getting somewhere, the specter instead took its leave. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair.

A branch cracked out in the woods, causing Tiran to snap his head in the direction of the sound as his heart began to hammer. He gripped the pistol more tightly, bringing it up and flipping through all the spectrums his visor could display, but found nothing.

Thinking of little else, Tiran began to run.

He didn't know where he was going or why, he just felt the need to move, as if the act would make him safe. Leafy trunks whipped by, thin branches whipped and snarled at his head, but he didn't stop. Finally, he broke into a grove that offered some space.

Too much space. Tiran suddenly felt very exposed.

Something flapped overhead on whispering wings. Tiran snapped his pistol up, but there was nothing. A whoosh of feathers, something big. Tiran felt as if his heart would burst from his chest, sprout legs and run off on its own.

'Tiran!'

Li's warning came too late. Something very large and very angry slammed into Tiran, sending him rolling into a tree trunk. Talons raked at his body, but found no purchase. Then it was gone again.

Tiran scrambled to his feet, now all too well aware that he was being hunted by some great beast. He looked among the trees, all in the dirt, the beast left no trace of itself. Unconsciously, he thumbed the safety on his pistol off.

He crouched at the base of the tree he had rolled up against, keeping his back against the bark. He waited, listened.

The next attack was as silent as the first. The forest had gone completely silent, not even the chirp of a cricket. Then, thick claws wrapped around Tiran's helmet and began to pull him upward by his head. Tiran dropped his pistol and beat at the powerful arms pulling him higher from the ground, but it was as if they were made of iron.

In a panic, he scrabbled for the clasps at his neck, gloves fumbling for the latch. He hooked one with his small finger and popped it loose. The other couldn't bear his weight alone and simply ripped free. Suddenly, Tiran found himself tumbling down the side of the tree.

The suit took most of the impact, but he still thought he felt something in his ribcage crack. Dirt splashed into his face, filling his eyes with grit. Tiran tried to wipe them and scrambled for his gun. After a few frantic seconds he found it, bringing it up and blinking against the the microscopic grains scratching his corneas.

His helmet was gone, as was most of his armor's sensors which were mounted on the piece of equipment. Tiran flailed in the dark, the luminescent sights of his pistol jumping from one shadow to the next. He though he heard a flutter. The wisp of air on feathers. He fired, blindly, into the dark. Two shots went into the night. A ricochet whined through the air before striking a tree with a thunk.

The next impact took the wind out of him. One second he was standing in the grove, the next a long metallic object caught him in the stomach and flung him wide across the clearing. Two more strikes marred the armor on his chest an arms to the point he could barley move through the painful hitching gasps he made as he tried to bring air into his deflated lungs.

'Critical breaches in upper torso sections,' Li began buzzing in his head. 'Recommend jettison failing immediate repair.'

He didn't need Li to tell him what was going on. Tiran could feel the shards of battered metal digging into his skin, piercing even his protective under layer. With shaking hands and ragged breath, he began to rip the armor off.

A few seconds later, he was exposed from the waist up. Tiran's under suit was in tatters. Blood flowed freely from the rents in his skin, dripping to the earth and soaking his garments.

Tiran's adrenaline was pumping harder now than it ever had before. It gave him a rare clarity. The kind that only flying could give him. Only now, he was on the ground and being stalked and attack by some strange and terrible wraith of the night.

He stood slowly, using the trunk of a young sapling to steady himself. The night air was cool on his exposed skin, even refreshing. Tiran settled and closed his eyes, feeling the currents of air wash across his skin.

Tiran was by no means a warrior. He was best suited for flight and not fight. However, he was desperate. Most were when faced with death.

The air tickled the back of his neck, causing the thin hairs to rise. It flowed over his arms and his chest. The gentle tides were almost calming, caressing.

Then a hitch, faint, but there.

Tiran dove forward and rolled, the blade passed only inches from his head. The sapling he'd used to pull himself up shifted and fell, separated from its roots. Tiran came back up to a crouch. The blade sung through the air. Tiran jumped back, he felt the tip of the blade catch his pistol and knock it from his grasp.

He was unarmed now. Even his knife was gone, attached to his chest armor which now lay on the ground some yards distant. Tiran heard the beast land, impact the earth a few feet to his front with a rumble. Tiran opened his eyes, a frightening creature of bird and beast stood before him, monolithic blade held high.

It came down in an arc, cleaving the air with a vibrato. There was no time to think. There was only time to act. Tiran was without armor, without weapons. But he did have an arm.

Tiran brought his left arm above his head to block. The blade struck his forearm and pushed him to one knee. His arm wobbled and vibrated with the blade as it caught the deadly instrument. Pain flared through his shoulder and ribs as they took the shock. With his right hand he made a fist and struck at the breast of his attacker.

The beast staggered back with a gasp and a shriek not unlike that of a crying hawk.

"Monster!" It cried. "If you won't die, then go back to your shady friends and tell them that only death awaits them here!"

Tiran was as surprised to hear his attacker speak—much less use a weapon—as his attacker was to see Tiran survive the blow clearly meant to cleave a target in two.

"I'm not a fucking monster!" Tiran yelled as he swayed back to his feet while pitifully trying to maintain his defensive crouch. "I'm just trying to find my friends!"

Tiran's assailant twirled his over sized blade, "What friends could you possibly have here?"

"Tiran?"

The name caught them both off guard. For a moment, Tiran forgot he was about to die, "Ruwa!?"

"Tiran, over here!"

Forgetting his lethal situation, Tiran turned towards Ruwa's voice, glancing frantically about. His vision was beginning to adjust, but he could still barely see. He flinched as a rough claw descended on his shoulder.

"You know them?" said the assailant.

Tiran whipped around to confront his would-be killer and staggered back at the sight of a towering amalgamation of eagle and lion standing before him with an over--sized great sword planted in the rough dirt. "Do you know them?" he repeated with glaring eyes.

Tiran found he couldn't respond, rooted to the spot where he stood with awe.

"No matter," the great warrior said. "We have little time. Come with me."