Conquest: The Shiny Skin Wars, #2

By Alan J Parker

The Shiny Skin Wars – Book 2 – Conquest

Jim, now known as Shiny Skin, has finally learned that he is not alone in the horrifying world he finds himself in.

Driven by rage over the murder of his beloved Bu Do and their unborn child, he builds another army and invades the powerful kingdom of the Yaarg to free thousands of people like himself who are trapped in murderous unending slavery.

Despite encountering powerful opposition, his amazing success shakes the foundations of the known world and paves the way for him to build the basis of an industry that will challenge other kingdoms that hold his people in slavery.

But a powerful traitor is raising a dreadful army intent on destroying him and capturing his advanced weapons. He intends to take all the territory Jim has won and rule over the Kepar Nation as his own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan J Parker
• Release date: Dec 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201164287

Book preview

Chapter 1 – The Man from Another World

Multiverse – a hypothetical space or realm consisting of a number of universes, of which our own universe is only one.

Source: www.lexico.com

Sorg had made a name for himself when he killed two Kepar runaway slaves. They were scrawny and starving males who had escaped from slave pens near the capital. The way Sorg told the story, they fought like tigers. The older soldiers didn’t believe him, but his story occasionally earned him a free beer from new recruits.

But they were the good old days. He had now come to hate the boring patrols of the clay pans where he would spend his final years before retirement from the army. But his young recruit could barely contain his excitement. The boy desperately wanted to find and kill a Kepar.

To Sorg’s knowledge the Kepar never left their hiding place in the mountains, and certainly never wasted their time on the cold clay pans at the foot of the ranges. But the border had to be patrolled, and the only people who ever came here were Yaarg soldiers like himself and his recruit.

He glanced up at the towering mountain range and shuddered. Climbing up through the trails among the icy peaks was hard and dangerous work reserved only for younger men. More than a few of his friends had lost their lives on the icy slopes. Sorg had spent several years in the mountains freezing his butt off looking for escaping slaves. All he had ever found were a few frozen corpses. The boredom of the clay pans was safer.

Sorg, I think I saw a footprint.

The older soldier ignored the excitable youth. Of course there were footprints here, he thought irritably. Ours. In his boredom, Sorg allowed his favorite memory to rise to the surface. A patrol had caught a young female slave, and they were having fun with her. Like most Kepar, she was tall and slender, unlike the Yaarg people who were stocky and squat. As someone had put it to him so well, ‘The Yaarg fight well because we keep our butt close to the ground’.

The female runaway spoke a language he hadn’t heard before, and he’d heard most. She was almost completely hairless, apart from her head and her crotch. He always felt there was something sinister about someone without a ruff. A hairy neck was a symbol of strength and virility, of beauty and desire.

The ugliness of her bare neck and her pale skin didn’t stop the soldiers from having fun with her until someone got too rough and strangled her. Her tits were small and pointed, even in death, and one of the guys had cut them off as a souvenir. Sorg smiled at the memory. Those were the good days.

There’s another footprint, Sorg. The recruit was pointing excitedly at the faint impression in the dust. Our sandals don’t look like that. Look at it, Sorg. That footprint’s too narrow. It can’t be one of us.

Sorg looked disinterestedly at the impression in the dust. He figured a runaway slave may have come over the clay pans to get to the mountains, but he’d never heard of slaves wearing sandals unless a soft owner had bought them a pair. He looked closer at the footprint, then reluctantly began searching the ground for more.

The footprints were faint and difficult to see in the fine dust of the hard clay pan, but with experience gained from years on the clay pans, Sorg finally picked up the faint trail. He soon found a small disturbance in the ground. Ignoring the entreaties from his recruit for recognition of his find, Sorg shoved the point of his spear into the disturbed ground.

Instead of stopping close to the surface, the spear point penetrated deep into the soil. He could see no scratching or claw marks around the patch of disturbed dust, so it hadn’t been dug by an animal. Someone was digging holes in the clay pan, then carefully filling them in to cover any sign of their work.

At the next patch of disturbed soil, someone had made a mistake. On the softer soil, a partial boot print lay exposed. The boot had a heel, as if it was designed to give the wearer more height. Only Kepar military wore such boots, and the print was clearly fresh. Whoever had made it must be near. A stab of fear lanced Sorg’s chest, and he looked around anxiously, but apart from a few natural shallow depressions, he could see no threats.

Kepar soldiers have been here, he whispered. We’d better get back to camp and report this.

What do you mean go back to camp? his recruit whined. I reckon we’ve found a runaway. A glint of savagery appeared in the young man’s face. You’ve got your kills, he snarled. I’m fucked if I’ll walk away from mine.

Sorg called for the kid to come back, but the young man was intent on making a kill. He shook his head irritably and started after the recruit. This is a real good way to get fuckin’ killed, he grumbled to himself.

The kid found more than a dozen places where someone had been digging holes, but they saw no more boot prints. Whoever was doing this didn’t want to be found.

It’s time to head back to camp, Sorg warned. We need more help to do a proper search.

I reckon it’s hiding in that hollow, the recruit exclaimed, pointing at a shallow trench caused by heavy rains from long ago.

Sorg followed after the kid who was running toward the trench, his spear raised high for an attack. The kid suddenly dropped his spear and clutched at his neck. He turned toward Sorg, his eyes wide in shock, then collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth. An arrow was embedded deep in his throat.

The older soldier knew they had walked into a trap. He spun on his heel and raced away from the dying boy. Something sharp slammed into his back, punching the air out of his lungs. He tried to keep running, but his short, thick legs tangled and he fell flat on his face on the cold hard clay. He struggled to fill his lungs with air, but all he could do was make a gurgling sound deep in his chest.

Over the rapid thudding of the pulse in his head he heard someone walking up behind him, and a pair of sturdy boots appeared in front of his face. A savage pain, greater than anything Sorg had ever experienced, tore into his back, and his vision went dark as he died.

––––––––

The tall man standing over the dead Yaarg soldier stared intently into the distance over the empty clay pans. A thick mat of brown curly hair covered his face, almost concealing a savage scar puckering his right cheek.

Three men armed with bows and arrows came running up from behind. The four men had lay hidden in the shallow depression in the clay pan, hoping the two Yaarg soldiers would move on, but the youngest of the two had seen them.

With a jerk, the swordsman pulled his weapon out of the corpse and wiped the blade clean on the dead soldier’s shirt. The two-edged blade was as long as his forearm, and apart from a few nicks on the edges of the blade, it was as sharp as a razor.

It was the only sword of its type on the whole continent. It had been made in the forges of the valley of the Kepar in the Tath Kingdom over four years before, and it was the swordsman’s intention to make many more. But first he must find high quality fire clay to line the furnaces he was building in the Kepar Nation. The only place he knew where it could be readily found was in clay pans.

Two of the archers went to work with copper knives, digging out the valuable arrows from the bodies. They then slung the dead men over their shoulders and headed for the mountains. The bodies must not be found. It was easy to become disoriented on the vast clay pans, and the search for the two missing soldiers would be intense. The quest for fire clay would have to be suspended until the search was called off.

Later that night, deep in a gully running off the mountain range, the four men settled down to wait. A small fire, concealed behind a low wall of rocks, crackled softly as fat from three scrawny rabbits dripped into the flames. After their meal was over and they had drunk some of their precious water, three of the men fell silent as the tall man spoke. His voice was deep and resonant, carrying with it the power and authority of a man who had conquered a nation and become its King, a man capable of making magical metals – a man from another world.

––––––––

To a select few, this tall powerfully built man was known as Jim Edwards. He had once been a husband and father, a professional fighter and successful soldier. He had also been an engineering student whose skill and knowledge in the manufacture of glass had resulted in him being thrust into this strange world from which he could not leave.

The rest of the world knew him only as Shiny Skin, a name given to him by a powerful rebel leader in the Tath Kingdom across the great Cold-Fire Ocean. He had joined a small group of Kepar farmers, people much like himself, who lived under the protection of the rebels. For a brief period he found love with a beautiful young Kepar woman called Bu Do, and he had wished to live out his days raising a family in the calm of the Kepar valley.

But the rulers of the kingdom in which he had found himself began to fear this stranger who spoke of a new metal greater than anything seen in their world. In their fear they struck at him, and killed his woman and her unborn baby.

Bu Do’s death set loose a frightening savagery in the man that would ignite a war using a weapon of incomprehensible power. He built an army of rebels and conquered the kingdom that had tried to enslave him and killed the woman he loved.

As its new King, he had been firm but fair and his counsel was wise. But the Tath Kingdom was riven by deceit and treachery, and the wise King was betrayed.

He had fled across the Cold-Fire Ocean and joined the people of the Kepar Nation. The Nation had been a country of fear, hiding behind a tall mountain range, its people living in a series of frigid valleys safe from the raids of the Yaarg military in search of slaves and loot.

Within three months of his arrival, a fever born of education had swept through the Kepar Nation like a wildfire. The frightened people learned why they were different from the short, stocky people who sought to enslave them. They learned that they were smarter and faster, capable of a greatness forever out of reach of their oppressors. Above all, they learned that they were descendants of a great people who had come from Shiny Skin’s world, a world of freedom and wealth and greatness.

Their fear of the Yaarg began to subside, and a sense of outrage and power and courage, fed by the inspirational words of Shiny Skin, began to forge a frightened people into a nation intent on reclaiming their right to live without fear.

Many Kepar slaves lived and died in the Yaarg Kingdom and in the kingdoms further to the south. Some managed to escape, aided in their flight to the safety of the north by underground movements of brave fellow slaves. Some succeeded in their quest for freedom, but most failed, and paid a terrible price.

Shiny Skin wanted to free the Kepar slaves in the kingdoms to the south. But his true desire was for something even greater than liberty. He believed that among the slaves were people such as himself, thrust against their wishes into this violent world by a powerful force that was well-meaning in its nature but tragic in its consequences.

Chapter 2 – Conflict of Interest

Didrik Clattenburg stormed into his private chamber and slammed the door so hard it shook the building. He tossed a small leather scroll onto a table in the center of the room and began pacing over the worn timber floor, fuming over what he saw as a slight to his reputation.

He was a tall, heavily built man with a prominent nose and thick dark hair. The arrogant curl of his lips had been acquired from four decades of power and extraordinary wealth. He and his entire family were the only people of the Kepar Nation who had showed almost no sign of Tath or Yaarg ancestry in their features until Carolyn Wilson and Jim Edwards came along.

Metta Clattenburg opened the door and stepped tentatively into the room. She knew only too well the savage rage that often overwhelmed her husband’s mind. She waited silently, watching for the tell-tale signs of reason to appear in his features before saying anything.

Another problem, dear, she asked gently in Middle Low German. No other language was spoken in their home unless they were entertaining guests. It was a language that only the Clattenburg family understood, a language that had originated with the forefather of the family many generations before.

Edwards is refusing to attend the meeting, he snarled. I have people coming from across the nation, people he needs to meet, and he claims he doesn’t have time.

He is very busy, dearest. The nation needs the factory he’s building.

Pah! Didrik spat. It’s just an excuse. He’s under the influence of General Lik.

Metta withheld her response. She had meet Jim Edwards twice, and doubted anyone would be able to influence his thinking. The man’s intellect was formidable.

Her husband’s anger was fading, and Metta knew there was nothing more she could do. She quietly backed out of the room and closed the door. She knew the letter from Jim Edwards was not the full reason for her husband’s rage. Their house was large and comfortable, but the place where the Clattenburg family truly belonged was in the center of the city – in Clattenburg Castle.

Metta knew the history of the Clattenburg dynasty well. Seven centuries before, Adelgis Clattenburg had arrived at a time when the Kepar Nation was merely a group of loosely allied families and land holders. Local legend remembered Adelgis as a brilliant and generous man who had won over the hearts and minds of the people to become their leader.

The ancient scrolls stored within her house told quite a different story, a dark secret that Metta knew must never see the light of day. Within a year of his arrival, he had become a force for tyranny, and in his lifetime Adelgis Clattenburg had built the foundation upon what would become an empire that ruled the nation ruthlessly and unopposed for five centuries until a massive attack by the Yaarg army exposed its weakness.

The Kepar people discovered to their cost that if their nation was to survive attacks from the Yaarg Kingdom it needed the leadership of a strong military force, not a rich and powerful dynastic family that existed only for wealth and power. The desperate Kepar citizens formed a makeshift guerrilla army and pushed the invaders back across the mountains.

Under pressure from the new military government, the Clattenburg nobility were forced to abandon their castle, and for two hundred years they had conspired to reclaim their birthright. Their selfish actions effectively split the nation into two separate factions, one dedicated to strength through national unity and the other committed to progress through personal wealth.

Metta Clattenburg believed in omens. She had observed two major omens in the past six years. The first was when Carolyn Wilson suddenly appeared in the valley. Her extraordinary mathematical skills surpassed even that of her husband. Metta had been trying to find a suitable mate for her son. Carolyn would have been a fabulous prize, and the influence of the Clattenburg name would have been strengthened. Metta had done the very best she could to arrange the union, but Carolyn could not be swayed, and the opportunity was lost.

The second omen Metta witnessed was the arrival of Jim Edwards. He was a man of enormous energy and towering intellect, and during the winter of his arrival he expanded the school run by Carolyn, the woman he married. He quickly learned the language, and his stirring oratory inspired a people tired of living in fear in a divided community. The influence of the Clattenburg name vanished almost overnight as the power and popularity of the military grew.

Metta walked back to her studio on the other side of the enormous house and returned to her needlework. Her husband was so dedicated to returning the Clattenburg family to its proper place as head of the Kepar Nation that in his fervor he was unable to see the growing forces of change on the side of Jim Edwards. The power and influence of the Clattenburg dynasty was coming to an end, eclipsed by the rise of the dynasty of Jim and Carolyn Edwards.

Chapter 3 – The Council

After finishing his breakfast, Jim held his three month old daughter on his lap. He and Carolyn had been married for over a year before she fell pregnant, and Jim put the delay down to their poor diet. The poor quality of vegetables was of particular concern to everybody.

What the nation badly needed was more arable land. Their population was out-growing the limited farmlands of the mountain stronghold that kept them safe from invasion. Successful conquest and permanent occupation of enemy lands was the only long-term solution.

A memory appeared in his mind of an avatar inside a golden hologram. He had seen it clearly in his room in the castle of Tath Bynar on the other side of the Cold-Fire Ocean. The avatar was representative of an advanced civilization he called the ‘gold people’, a civilization whose technology had thrown him bodily into this violent world a split second before he would have perished in a terrible explosion and fire.

He was certain the gold people had brought him here as part of an effort to break the hairy indigenous people out of the violent bronze age in which they were permanently trapped. The gold people had been doing this for hundreds of years, hurling defenseless people into a world where they stood little chance of survival, all in the hope of creating enough change in the genetics of the indigenous people that they would be able to escape from their endless cycle of violence.

The technology of the gold people was enormously advanced, conquering time and crossing dimensions, but it had a serious limitation. When Jim arrived in this world, he had fallen into a deep, thorny thicket from such a height that the fall would have killed a lesser man. His physical strength and fighting prowess were all that had saved him from slavery and death.

The gold people had been unable to selectively place him where he would be safe, a problem his wife Carolyn had also suffered. He and Carolyn believed that many more of their people had been captured and enslaved when they arrived in lands to the south.

Paula sensed his anger and began to whimper,