Ok folks,here's the true sequel to 'Mountain Hold' I'm still writing it right now but have a few chapters I can launch on here for now. This is book two of the Terra's Edge Series (book 1 being Mountain Hold). It's PAW fiction like the last book and I hope you like it. Believe me this is going to raise a few eye-brows as I don't shy away from things like realistic violence, clashes and intrigues... For those that are unfamiliar with my work here's a taste: Previously The action in Warlords Rising picks up after a failed assault by the bad guys on Tonswater, they've been given a beating by the mountain and townsfolks and a few survivors are now away licking their wounds... Warlords Rising Terra's Edge Chronicles Volume 2 By Tyler Danann COPYRIGHT TYLER DANANN 2014 The Monkey Boards Edition This is a work of fiction. All the Characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. Prologue The maimed officer called Samze Reyborse climbed the mountain trail before him. Two loyal and marked raiders struggled to keep up behind him and off to his left Eliza Garcia, his scout was starting to lose hope. The rest of his force waited at the pick-ups and watched in mute silence. It had been a week following the debacle of Tonswater. The failure to succeed had cost them dearly, all Reyborse's plans were in tatters and now he had to face the music. His ruined arm had been bound tight but with a broken-bone it was unlikely to mend properly, not unless he could find help. The raider city of Redmond was in disarray, with Charrak dead and most of his army either slain or missing there was nothing left to hold them together. Like a pack of rabid dogs tearing at a corpse the city descended into familiar anarchy. Reyborse and his companions drove around the city and carried on south until the gas tank was nearly empty. He had a chance but it was a slim one. At the top of the hill he opened up his back-pack awkwardly with his good hand. Removing a special item he felt the glass gingerly. He only had one chance to find a sanctuary and the map-glass effects would only last for a few minutes. Removing his helmet and Jatimatic sub-machine gun he sat down cross-legged. Then facing the west and the imposing sun he smashed open the map-glass. The two liquid compounds mixed and mingled giving off a lurid vapor. He inhaled the fumes deeply. First there was a pinging pain from his skull, then a numbness throughout his body. As the lucid effects began to take root his mind and conciousness began loosen from the pain of his injuries and bonds of the flesh. He ascended a few feet saw the multi-dimensional landscape to the west giving him clues and pointers. Within thirty seconds he saw the signs he was looking for and found the underground passageway signs. It wasn't far from Crescent Peak and only half-way up with a deer-trail leading there. Flying along towards it he plotted the passage-route required to get to the entrance. As his life-force swam out the scent of revenge lingered on and on. Those who had defied him would pay eternally alongside his hated foe the Soliters. He'd previously watched from afar as the siege of Tonswater ended with the deaths of both his most prized assets; Shieda, his warrior-mistress and Zeneth a Diresyn warrior. Down below where from he'd hiked to Elisha Garcia, the raider lord's former mistress, could hear the mutterings of the other Wolfhound raiders. Not all were 'marked' and sworn and since her lord's death their loyalty to Reyborse, who some saw as only an advisor was stretched indeed. A few minutes passed. Quin Algerson, an 'unmarked' warrior could take no more waiting and began ranting. “This is ****ing stupid! What has he brought us to the mountains of nowhere for?” He ranted obnoxiously. “Redmond is ripe for a takeover with Charrak dead. But he drags us here so he can get high!” “You watch your tongue Quin and remember who the master is around here.” Garcia said coldly to him. “Well baby, I never took not stupid mark-chip and neither did Taylor!” Algerson said gesturing to his buddy who nodded defiantly. “And I think with that shot-up arm of his and now getting stoned up on a hill it's time for a new leader round here.” Algerson spat. He turned back to look upwards again just in time to see the Isier coming down towards them. Reyborse's Jatimatic spat lead and Algerson's head and neck were shredded apart instantly. As his body crumbled and rolled down the hill the Isier slung the weapon as if he'd merely plinked a few tin cans from a fence in boredom. A few of the wavering ones looked down at the ugly red smear in the ground and the human wreckage at the bottom of the hill. “Follow me or follow him.” He said bluntly to the others. Not a man dared speak out now. “Elisha bring up the rear, we have a trek ahead of us.” He said to her. Any notion of mutiny or uprising buried the eight men and one woman moved into the mountains in the direction of Crescent Peak. Reyborse moved with a smile on his cruel thin lips, he was a patient man and revenge was a slow business afterall.
It had taken Reyborse two days to get from the mountain opening to the tracked Underways deep underground. By then they were all hungry and their water supplies were low. Only he and a couple of others had torches which revealed a featureless and endless blackness they moved in towards. A partially cleared cave-in was the marker-zone Reyborse was looking for and he managed to get his force through without too much hassle. On the other side was the beginning of a railway track. It was also the point where Reyborse knew they had a good chance of retrieval. He set off his Sleuth-Beacon; a pre-programmed transmission device designed for underground retrieval. It sent a radiating signal towards the Saken Base Rock miles away to the east. It first struck an outrock-relay, then another and another before finally reaching Base Rock Gammertron. For four hours they waited and the grumbling from Taylor was beginning to return. Two of the torches were almost out of batteries and the dim glow from the beacon was not much better. “What are we waiting for?” He complained and whinged. Reyborse was almost ready to cut him down when a distant whine became noticeable. The noise of a large machine soon reached them then a light appeared as a sled-train full of Craiven and Sindle troopers arrived. A fellow Isier that Reyborse knewled the force; Weel Kandas. Upon the locomotive grinding to a halt the officer jumped down to face his equal. “Weel! It's good to see you.” Reyborse spoke in Saken to him. “Greetings likewise Samze! This is unexpected. Do you have the Artifacts?” He asked back. Reyborse hesitated not wanting to speak of his failure. “Where's Zeneth and Shieda?” Kandas said expectantly looking warily at the armed men and woman behind him. “Both slain. The mission was a failure, the town was under Soliter support from the mountains. I must deliver a report about the whole mess.” “Soliters!? Are you sure?” Kandas said stunned. “Yes, with a sky-carriage and their own private army. I barely got away with these ones you see now.” Reyborse said gesturing accidentally with his wrecked arm and he seethed in pain. “Climb aboard Samze, I must tell you though, there is a new Lord now posted to Gammertron. It won't be easy on you if there's a trial.” “What do you mean? What happened to Iscaron?” Reyborse said with a start. Iscaron was a familiar Saken commander, one he would be more than comfortable delivering his report to. “He's been summoned to Eurasia to fight with the Glorian. We have Lord Juberon from the Southern Fringe commanding things here now.” Kandas said with shades of the negative. “Juberon?! He isn't a commander-class of Saken is he?” “He is now, promoted thanks to the war-effort.” “Dusted tails! He's normally in charge of punishments and playing god with the Negro-slaves and Kaslar!” Reyborse exclaimed. He was was rattled at the news, Juberon was infamous as a brute and bully down in the Base Rocks of Africa. “Like I said Samze, it won't be easy on you if you climb aboard and return with us...” Kandas said. Kandas was half tempted to have his Craiven re-supply Reyborse from the Sled Train's supply catche then return empty-handed to the Base-Rock. This would raise suspicions though. The Sleuth-Beacon Reyborse had triggered was signature-marked to him and was already logged-in at the Base Rock and would surely be questioned. The Craiven that were with him were loyal-enough but the Sindle auxillaries were a new platoon from the east. No doubt a handful would be hoping to advance in rank by snitching on him. Reyborse read his mind. “We both know it will cause grief if we play at telling tales to a Lord.” “Climb aboard then before I change my mind.” Kandas said. “Before I do, watch over me, there's a couple of lone wolves among these men I've brought. Neither are marked.” The Isier cautioned. “Which ones?” Asked Kandas and Reborse told him as well as those that were to be trusted. After some orders were passed to the Craiven and Sindle troopers they trained their weapons on them. “Don't make a move or they'll cut you down.” Reyborse warned. “Now remove your weapons and pass them to me. We're going for a ride.” “What's going on? I thought you said you were getting help?” Asked Taylor, one of the rebellious men, he was one who had not been marked and still objected to things. “This is help, we're going to my base where we can fight on against those that stand in our way. There's no choice here.” “Where is it?” “Near to the eastern ocean.” He answered. “Fuck that.” Taylor said turning around and began walking away. Kandas looked with a sideways glance to Reyborse for a response, but he said nothing. Instead he turned to the others, one of the other doubtfuls made a hesitant move. “Are you sure you want to follow him?” Reyborse said with a sadistic grin. Biting his lip the man stepped back and handed over his weapon which was taken by a Sindle, then the others did likewise. Taylor was almost at the barrier-point when Reyborse pointed to Taylor and nodded at Kandas. “Hey Taylor!” Reyborse shouted which was immediately followed by a roar of blasting weapons that were deafening in the confines of the tunnel. Taylor had half-turned when bullets from obscure and strange calibers tore into him, tossing him across the barrier in a grotesque fashion. “All aboard!” Reyborse shouted as the Saken on board made a space on the sled. It would be a cramped ride but Reyborse faced his fate knowing that no matter what happened, he'd have have a chance to make things right. The failure at Tonswater had to be avenged.
Chapter 1 Mountain Meeting A year and a half later An afternoon-sun melted down on the snowy mountainside. It was the end of spring and like many summers previous the snow was reluctant to fully-melt at the high-elevations of the Rocky Mountains. A wending highway cut across the spine of the White Mountains like a lazy-serpent. Twenty armed-men from the Mountain Hold waited at a certain point. Above them, adjacent to the highway an observation tower that looked west down the highway. The look-out signalled down to them. As promised the convoy from the ISTAR faction was on time, it could be seen from miles away up there. Nuge, the peered back to it, trying to estimate the convoy's speed of travel. The east-western highway ran past part the Mountain Hold road. Formerly this had been impassable due to felled trees. Indeed nearly two years had passed since Leyson had felled the trees blocking it off. Now it was clear again for the dwellers of the Hold to come and go as they pleased. A great gate of logs and beams was now in it's place, set back from the highway, allowing easier access, providing it was not snowed-in at winter of course. Two hotchkiss machine guns manned by Range-Warriors projected out. The emplacements were part of the gateway and built up on the walls, there were embrasures of wood and steel projecting out from a pair of elevated towers. They were like wooden pillboxes. A deadly pair of defenses many hoped not to need. To Mike Oakley the arrival of an outsider faction meant their time of near-absolute isolation from the world was at an end. First chaos had come to Terra, then the frantic actions of defense followed by a settling of the ways. Now they were at the settling phase, what this would go into next was anyones guess. Seemingly reading his mind Alexander Barber went over from the tower towards the leader. “I guess this means we're part of the Republic now Mike?” Barber said to him, referencing the ISTAR republic many now followed in the Mid and Pacific North West. Like Oakley, Barber was tall but was a broader and more powerful build, like that of a panther. He was younger, the lead warrior of the Hold's defense forces and had great respect for his actions in combat. Some had said that Barber would make a fine leader one day but leadership was not something that appealed to him. Oakley had the mantle of rule, not he and unless it was thrust upon him he was just a Range-Warrior. “We're our own Republic Alex. This place will always be the Mountain Hold, even if it has ISTAR territory around it.” Oakley said. “Now remember, if there's any shooting we move back to the gateway into cover and the let the hotchkiss-crews do the rest.” “It won't come to that Mike, the Lore-Saints are good folks, men of their word. Spencer did well setting it up on the secure-Nex without prying eyes learning of it.” “We'll let soon see.” Said Oakley, checking his ancient revolver out of habit. “I'll wring his neck afterwards if it goes wrong.” He jested. Satisfied he re-holstered it. Mike Oakley; leader of the Mountain Hold felt the ache of old wounds nag occasionally yet stood tall and ready. One and a half years on from the Battle of Tonswater he'd ushered in a frugal flowering of cautious expansion in his territory. Keeping on good terms with the town of Tonswater to the east had been no problem. The victory his people had helped to win had been a double-edged sword though. While it had stymied raider-activity and secured their lands from harm, great attention and renown had spread across ISTAR lands. Tonswater had at least stopped making overtures for colonizing the mountains but now came the Lore-Saints. Duke Alexis Wynter of the ISTAR Lore-Saints now approached with his vanguard of humvee's. Some called him 'The Lorien' or 'Lore-Master' due to his supposed illuminated knowledge. Others, mostly of the raider disposition, howled and raved of him with the less savory title of 'La Duque De Sangre' or 'The Blood Duke.' Oakely had initially declined the overtures from his advisors to open a communication channel to the mystery faction, yet many others of his faction persuaded him to hear them out. Be that as it may, Oakley was wary, distant factions he preferred to be kept at a distance. He also typically disliked royal titles and fancy names. Such things did not cut much ice with him, for a man earned his place in the world with a firm will and a driving heart, not a landed-title. The convoy of three bearing the one who was called 'Lorien' now stopped in front of them. The Duke's colors, in muted green ,blue and grey tones were on the sides of the first vehicle. Setting it apart from the other two that black and white, along with green also. Barber thought it was a bad tactical move highlighting a vehicle from the pack. Duke Wynter stepped out alone and faced Oakley's Rangers without a shred of intimidation. He was a tall man of over-average build, fair eyed and with trimmed sandy-brown hair. A fiercely intense demenor matching Oakley's own marked him apart from most men, for he was like that of a benevolent warlord. A fine fellow in friendship, but a terrible adversary in war. He showed no fear and stepped forward so he was level with the hood of the Humvee. More men now exited their humvees. Unlike Oakley and his followers the Duke did not wear camoflage or outdoors clothing but a dark-blue uniform. The ones who now assembled behind him could be seen in a similar uniform but some wore a beige-brown and the remainder a charcoal black. They wore no body-armor, and presented no intentions of an offensive nature. Aside from shouldered carbines the others looked friendly enough. The Duke's advisor Elias Meander moved around to be near him. Meander was Greek-AmEliasan with a darker complexion than most of the others. Amber eyes and his unassuming demenour missed few details. As a former intelligence captain the darkest and deepest of secrets could be safeguarded with him. The Duke was unclipped his belted and holstered pistol, and passed it to Meander who took it wordlessly. He scanning their faces, taking in their measure. “So these are the famed Oakley's Rangers?” Wynter mused cooly to himself and those closest. Most of the Rangers were bearded and grizzled, others less so. All had the semi-barbaric looks of those who were lean, sharp and hardened from years of wilderness living. The Lore-Saint fighters tended to be more the homesteaders and townsman than raw survivalists and viewed the rangers warily. A pantherish-looking one stood out among them along with a few others that clustered close to the oldest one of them. Oakley boldly stepped forward from his own ranks and did the same ritual, passing his .22 revolver to Barber. Both leaders faced-off. “Duke Alexis Nikolai Wynter of the Lore-Saints and the Northern League.” Wynter said declaring himself fully. “Mike Oakley of the Mountain Hold. Welcome to the White Mountains.” Oakley responded gruffly. A man was near to the Duke and he was no doubt his advisor, like Barber was to Oakley. He now spoke in the Dukes ear. Who nodded then shook his head. Somehow Oakley instinctively knew the advisor was wanting the Duke to do something against his nature. Perhaps overly-cautioning him? The outsiders looked very clean and somewhat professional, almost too smart for his bones to be comfortable with. Oakley spoke first. “As our guests would you wish to be hosted inside our Hold, it's better than standing exposed on the highway. Our venison is fresh and the mead is fine and waiting.” “Well met!” The Duke responded heartily. “Against that I cannot argue.” They approached one another to close the distance. They began talking back and forth. A Ranger leaned in to Barber. “Mike's changed his tune.” He said quietly. “Leaders and their whimsical ways.” He responded with a sly look. The two groups walked off the highway and into the private road that lead to the gateway. Wynter left three of his men with the vehicles to park the transport outside the gateway and the others unloaded their carbines at Oakley's request. Then they were shown into the depths of the Mountain Hold.
