Spectacular Tales III

By The Indie Collaboration

More thrilling short stories written by independent publishing’s rising stars. In this third SF collection of short fiction, The Indie Collaboration delves into the vaults of speculative fiction once more, bringing you original and innovative Science Fiction and Fantasy stories.

Here you will find stories about Space Pirates and Barbarians, Survivors of plagues, a man doomed by time and an epic tale about Giants and Monsters.

So done your space suit and come join us in exploring more ‘Spectacular Tales’.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter John
• Release date: Oct 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370505579

The Indie Collaboration

The Indie Collaboration grew out of a group of like minded independent authors. Together, we decided to show the world how great works of fiction can be created without the involvement of any large publishing companies; creating a direct channel between ourselves and our readers is of the utmost importance to us. Each author has freely donated their time and work and are committed to the Indie Collaboration's cause of:Offering the best of indie authorsin bite size pieces for free.We hope you enjoy our books

Book preview

Ufburk: Antar’s Brace

By Donny Swords

Ufburk, now 37, carves a hulking shadow against the curvature of the small interior of the cockpit. In the distance, the sun of an alien cosmos lights the sky brightly. On his forehead, the first sign not of wrinkles, but an omen that the once-barbarians lust for adventuring is ageing him shows plainly on his countenance, and indeed, Ufburk feels old. His spacecraft withstands the torment of flying so close to the sun -somehow.

A frenzy of lights blinks rapidly on the dash panel. Alarms sound, sonically piercing in volume, and the tones do not relent. Ufburk had encountered the same warnings as this when once, he crashed onto a desolate moon.

And that fiasco cost him a year. Cursing, he flips open the console before him revealing a myriad of sparkling electronic switches and selects the third one.

A strange voice, speaking Dirvak, (the language of a dead race) fills the cockpit.

Anoka, po.

The speaker of those words sounds chilling to Ufburk, but he knows what he hears is synthetic, produced soullessly from the computer that runs his craft. He blinks a few times, hoping to gain clearer focus.

Anoka, po, chimes the automated voice.

Aye, says the once-barbarian, his voice full of a sandy raspiness he hopes will leave him soon.

Ufburk flicks the fourth and fifth switches, and a panel screen emerges from a slot in the dashboard. A map screen illuminates, and the big man sees then how severely altering course will affect the time involved to complete his quest.

He has no other choice. Thinking of his lost love, taken by that many-eyed demon stirs the substance of his resolve. The line on his forehead deepens as he plots his new route to the one he must face, a wicked wizard with many eyes and mouths, a Defiler of hope.

For three years Ufburk had not known of any practical or impractical means that could accomplish the feat of vanquishing his sworn enemy. He'd spent years searching the ruins of the dead Dirvak worlds to find even the remotest clue, the slightest way to possibly slay the sorcerer.

Presently, Ufburk has a chance to destroy the Many-eyed Wizard, but it is a slim chance.

The star charts appear overwhelming, but allowing the computer to plan the route is something Ufburk has yet to learn. He sets the bearing and continuing to pilot the ship, begins to navigate beyond the range of the sun.

The automated voice speaks up again after some time, Anoka Avba, Fain.

Ufburk knows those words, 'Danger has passed,' that's what they mean. He is tired, but he does not trust the ship enough to sleep. Not yet, let him move beyond the fringe of the asteroid belt before hanging it up.

Wrestling his fatigue only makes matters worse, and the pleasant humming drone of the spacecraft, the vibration of it coursing through his seat -ah yes, he is tired, lords.

His reflection shimmers over the cockpit window and Ufburk sighs, knowing how rank and foul he is after two solid years of space travel. It has been so long since his heels have stood on actual ground that the big man wonders if his quest might overwhelm him.

Ufburk cares little for his life and has bent his existence to one end, to kill the Many-eyed Wizard that slew Davina, his first and only love. To think of her leaves a coldness in him now. That grey emotion, its implication is an injury Ufburk endures, but he hates the Wizard for taking his hope from him.

Little else but the course he travels and how little of the peculiar food paste he has aboard the vessel resides between Ufburk's ears. Worse, water supplies are also scarce, and he is ill.

Good news travels in packs, like wolves, he hears his cousin saying as if Danno is there when of course his cousin is light years away. The heroic adventurer thinks longingly about the life he would have had if he'd not left his homeworld behind. He notices he has allowed himself to slump in his chair and rights himself. A formal expression passes over his stern and angular face.

Ufburk's mood brightens, thinking now that had he remained home he'd have become a sheep herder. Seldom is it when Ufburk allows himself to sulk and act like a lonely child, but his comforts do not compare to the countless lives the hero is responsible for saving.

A huge yawn escapes him, making his chest bellow and then he is coughing. His back aches from a persistent and a racking bronchial infection that he has had for several miles. The edges of his sight lose focus, and his eyes begin to water.

And in this condition with an inconsistent fever and lack of sleep, Ufburk will travel for another year, to make a stop to gain an advantage on his enemy.

*****

One Year Later

He slashed his bonds Sir Fel.

And the gunnery?

Dead Sir -all dead. They say he tore their heads off.

As the figures speak, Ufburk listens with rapt fascination. His bulk is concealed nicely behind a stack of barrels. Slick blood coats his meaty fists, and this crimson blur rises to his elbows. The spacedock is quiet, but the once-barbarian knows there are others.

Dead? All of them? Nonsense, tell me how many of my men remain alive.

Ufburk grins as he sees the guard's expression, why the poor man is as pale as a sheep's arse.

None sir, none.

Sir Fel frees his weapon from its harness.

Well then, you are relieved of your duty soldier.

Seizing the soldier, Fel hoists the soldier with one arm, while using a three-bladed weapon to eviscerate the armoured man in a single motion. Even as the sound of the soldier's lifeless body rings down the hallway Fel starts speaking:

Ufburk, Son of Tiber? Is that you? Well, I tell you, trembling in the shadow does nothing for that menacing reputation you have. You know, on one world they fancy you a Prince? I think that's an impractical assessment, after all, your father is only a clansman, nothing more. Wouldn't you agree on that point rogue?

Fel's eyes glint at the sound of Ufburk's voice:

Surely you are not so unimaginative as to allude that you will leave this moon alive, eh Fel?

The adventurer sees the apparent animosity on Fel's face as that man's worry, not his. For one to go to their grave and have their gods receive them, one must be honest.

A tense silence hangs on, and it is Ufburk who speaks again. Fel is more interested in our adventurer's space blaster than he hears what the once-barbarian is saying.

And I crossed the Neppul Lifts to get this far. I know you Scroungers make your trade by selling slaves and tech to the Scala. So as I see it, you are my prisoner.

Yet you are alone.

A chill reaches Ufburk at Fel's remark, and the lines set on the Godly Commander's face turn scarier than moments ago.

Ha! Dear Prince Ufburk, you are a buffoon. How are you so sure you'll defeat me?

A searing red beam launches from the end of Ufburk's blaster, his response to Fel's taunting. The beam flies true to its mark, but Fel raises his gauntlet, carved with a decorative pattern that looks suspiciously like glyphs and as if waving goodbye, wipes the laser beam from the air, erasing it indefinitely.

By all means, try and try again. As long as I wear Antar's Brace, you will encounter ill luck.

Then shut your yapper and face me.

Fel, clad in dark-plated armour laughs.

Fair enough young Ufburk, but know that when I've ended you, I will fetch my squads and destroy your father. Your entire tribe will die, and you are doomed.

Then we are a pair, says Ufburk.

Lord Fel, a Scrounger King as his race, the Ferrucca calls him springs to action, his red hair tied back tightly against the base of his skull making his jutting face severe in the brightly lit hangar.

Ufburk's axe slams into Fel's sinister weapon, and Fel moans at the force of the blow, though he parries it with relative ease. Traipsing the chamber in an ostentatious display of wills, the two battle one another -evenly matched. But as the fight wears on, Ufburk knows that his adversary is toying with him, and he knows that killing Fel is nigh near impossible. As Fel swings, Ufburk lets the blow by and dashes away, reeling around and firing his laser into his adversaries' back. Fel is untouched by the fiery barrage, causing a small moan to escape Ufburk's lips. Now the once-barbarian is revolving and running full speed toward his vessel.

Fool! I have locked your ship to the bay! You cannot get free, do you hear me? I will hunt your family down, and kill them all. Do you hear me?

But Ufburk doesn't hear; he is running for another purpose.

Fel is close behind him, Ufburk knows, the Commander is thinking the once-barbarian fears him. Ufburk bolts down the corridor leading to the centre-most quadrant of Fel's moonbase. The big man scans the long hall; Ufburk does not know what he is looking for, only what he must do.

There is nowhere to run -Ufburk! You die today! There'll be no more running. Stop now!

Above him and before him the stone ceiling crumbles closing the route ahead, and Ufburk skids to a halt, spinning to greet Fel's offensive weapon.

A mad thrumming rushes to Ufburk's ears, dark, agitated, and altogether alive. Fel is laughing.

Do you remember Steele? That asteroid belt holds many secrets, hides incredible power. I have gained much. I'd tell you to visit me there someday, but you will not have the chance. Therefore, I must bid farewell to you young Prince, who shall be dead before his crowning. I am sure this beast will please your more wild side just fine. He is a beautiful specimen handpicked. A creature of distinction that is under my spell and wants only to free himself of me, which means you die. I don't re-imagine my bargains Ufburk; a deal is a deal. By dying, you'll give another soul a hand. Go ahead now -get to it, it is a splendid day to die, and I am on my way. So much time was wasted on you Ufburk, Son of Tiber.

Though the once-barbarian hears Fel's rant, he grants it little of his concern, for before him, rising from the stony rubble is a thing that should not be. It is