Chronicles of New Earth 2 Pact of Madness

By Jack Broscie

Led by Sharinia, a sorceress, the people of Oval-Lath go on an exodus and battle the murderous Sacts.
Torkh, Tmara and their friends explore the half-ocean Oval-Lantis; its inhabitants raise many questions, especially if a punitive expedition by Strang is repulsed.
Rolauth the CyRis experiences the greatest adventure in Oval-Magis and is introduced to the Book of Wonder'ous Spells.
Unfortunately, the LabCreator and the Doom Bringer also appear again. And if that had only been the worst... Kron the Mad and the Helleiter join the Doom Bringer and also receive reinforcement from Noa, a special scientist. What is this mighty devilish Pact of Madness up to?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Broscie
• Release date: Nov 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215344408

Jack Broscie

Broscie is een originele Nederlandse Fantasy-schrijver. Zijn boeken en verhalen zijn al meer dan 50.000 keer gedownload en staan hoog in de internationale ranking van Kobo en Smashwords.Hij is o.a. bekend van:. De epische fantasy-serie ‘Kronieken van Nieuwe Aarde’, bestaande uit:. #1 ‘De Doembrenger’. #2 ‘Pact der Waanzin’. #3 ‘Magische wetenschap’. De verhalenbundel ‘Iezegrimmig’ (Engelse vertaling: ‘Berserkly’), bestaande uit:. ‘Het monster onder het bed’. ‘De hebzuchtige koning’. ‘De twee wensen van de Duivel’. Het adventure verhaal ‘Het vervloekte goud van Atlantis’. Het YA fantasy verhaal ‘Nachtmerrie in het Park’ (Engelse vertaling ‘Nightmare in Central Park’).. Het romantic adventure/SF, bestaande uit:#1 ‘Goudtrein van Riese’#2 ‘Hellebeest van Atlantis’ (verwacht in 202x). Het maatschappij-kritische verhaal Plof!SchrijfstijlDe fantasy-serie ‘Kronieken van Nieuwe Aarde’Dit epische werk van Broscie wordt gekenmerkt door zijn beeldende taal en suggestieve schrijftrant. Voor het oog van de lezer ontrolt zich het decor van de vertelling. Landschappen, klimatologische omstandigheden, flora en fauna, geuren en kleuren, nederzettingen en de bewoners ervan zijn als het ware uit te tekenen. Hij schetst de contouren en de lezer vult ze moeiteloos in. Zijn hoofdpersonen bestaan uit zowel mannen als vrouwen van diverse standen en leeftijden; daarbij geldt dat mannen en vrouwen gelijkwaardig zijn. Broscie schrijft geen fantasy met Orcs, Elven en Trollen, maar met zelfbedachte rassen op een nieuw geschapen wereld. Hij combineert omstandigheden die gevoelsmatig tegenstrijdig zijn. Zo worden samenlevingen beschreven waar uiterst primitieve transportmiddelen én geavanceerde communicatiemiddelen gemeengoed zijn.Nachtmerrie in het Park, Iezegrimmig, De demon in de spiegel, Het vervloekte goud van Atlantis, Plof!Jack schrijft regelmatig korte verhalen. Deze verhalen zijn veelal verrassend en grimmig van aard, en tonen de dark side van mensen. Een aantal verhalen zijn ook in het Engels gepubliceerd (Nightmare in Central Park, Berserkly).Goudtrein van Riese, Hellepoort van AtlantisRomantische SF thrillers met de avonturen van de geheimagenten Lasha Heyes en Mike Owen die de strijd aanbinden met Der Leiter en Doktor Teufele.

Book preview

Chronicles of New Earth

Book II

PACT OF MADNESS

Published by Jack Broscie at Smashwords

Chronicles of New Earth

I. Bringer of Doom

II. Pact of Madness

III. Magical Science

New Earth is probably not a world of fantasy. Names and places may have been invented by the author. Any similarity to fantasy rests on sheer intentionality. Certain fateful events will occur, others will as well.

No part of this publication may be reproduced and/or made public by sleight of hand, magic, sorcery, or in any other way without the prior written permission of the author. Distributing the Pact der Madness link to everyone you know is encouraged.

Copyright © Jack Broscie (www.jackbroscie.nl )

Illustrations Jos Weijmer

Table of contents

Map of New Earth

Map of Patago

I. The demise of Oval-Lantis

Kron the Madman

Beginning of a search

The LabCreator intervenes

Disappearance of the Exodus

The Undersea Empire

Strang overplays his hand

Night robbery

Harsh journey through the wasteland

Order from the Bringer of Doom

Mentor-Ix of Oval-Lantis

Punitive expedition

Strang strikes

Blackmail

A difficult goodbye

II. Torintia's downfall

Betrayal and conquer

In search of the Exodus

The Sacts attack

Audience with the Helleiter

Slaves in the mine

The Breeding Ground

Battle of Totantia

Pact of Madness

III. Oval-Magis, Realm of magic and miracles

B'adkcaj, the Magician of Yildiç

Journey full of hardships

Sentenced to the stake

Magical creatures emerge

The Threehorn

Not everything is what it looks like

Search in Yildiç

The Supreme Magician opens the Festival

Miracles of Magis

The Book of Wond’rous Proverbs

Reunification

About the author

Inter Galactic Wide Web Encyclopedia

I. The demise of Oval-Lantis

Reconstructed fragments from the logbook of Het Lab, flagship of the Armadai.

"We thought we would enrich nature. We left an emaciated Earth behind us."

"They came to us with their power and their money. Begging and scolding, praising and threatening. We gave in to their wishes and threats, as other scholars did in the past. Instead of praise, we were showered with shame."

"We thought we could play God, but we got involved with the LabCreator. And history repeats itself."

Kron the Madman

Positioned concealed in the dense green undergrowth on top of the hill, the scout eagerly observed the town below him. The rising sun cast its yellow rays over the fields, which stretched around the town of Bgongne to the surrounding hills. The golden grain with the large rounded ears swayed in the morning breeze. Wisps of mist swirled in all directions and disappeared in the warmth of the sun. Dozens of people were already in the fields harvesting the harvest. Parts of their cheerful chatter and laughter were carried on the wind.

The false grin on the scout's face did not bode well for the unsuspecting farmers. Despite the early morning hour it was sweltering. A drop of sweat beaded on the scout's head, then ran down and left a trail through the war colors. The man's ruthless gaze moved from the lush fields to Bgongne.

The town looked prosperous. The houses were built of red and yellow bricks and covered with thatched roofs. A palisade of sharply pointed tree trunks and a stone wall surrounded Bgongne. Three watchtowers were part of the palisade. He saw archers in two towers. The one guard was sleeping on a chair as far as the scout could see from the hill. The other hung groggily over the edge of his watchtower, watching the farmers in the fields harvesting their crops. The scout shook his head sympathetically.

Slowly the archer in the watchtower rose and stretched sleepily. His eyes wandered around. He proudly looked out over his hometown, which was intersected by a wide, wildly flowing river. A stone bridge in the center connected the two halves of the city. Some excited boys ran across the bridge, joking and giggling, on their way to the market to buy the fish that had just landed. The streets were crowded with brightly dressed, noisy people. Workers whistling while laying bricks on a wall of a house under construction. Two women scrubbed the street in front of their house while chatting away. At the market he could hear merchants loudly promoting their wares. People stood in front of the bakery, probably hungrily smelling the smell of freshly baked bread.

The only entrance gate to Bgongne was wide open. It offered the inhabitants free passage to the fields and meadows. Soldiers on duty lounged lazily against the open doors. Two of them waved to the archer in the watchtower. He greeted back with a lazy wave of his hand. He watched disinterestedly as the soldiers routinely checked a covered wagon carrying its cargo to the weekly market. A soothing calm hung over the small town. He yawned, sank back into his chair, and hungrily opened his pouch of food.

The scout did not allow himself to be disappointed. He had enough experience to see that the peace in and around the town was only an appearance. Swords and shields gleamed on the carts used to load the harvest. The pastures full of meaty cattle were fenced with post and wire. Heavily armed soldiers patrolled the edges of the fields and meadows and archers were stationed here and there around the fields.

The scout had seen enough. What he saw confirmed what he had heard before. He dropped back behind the ridge. Invisible to the inhabitants of Bgongne, he began to signal to the war band below him. Sacten, the most ferocious barbarian tribe that inhabited this part of the planet and lived by raiding and slave trading. The warriors, armed to the teeth, were dressed from head to toe in green-spotted Tricemuth skin. Light to carry, strong enough to serve as armor and the colors provide excellent camouflage. The gray colored metal helmets - adorned with scalps - completed the armor.

Kron, the leader of the Sacts, picked up the signals from the scout who made it clear with gestures where the farmers and soldiers were and how many there were. He routinely determined his battle plan and with a few gestures he divided up his war band.

Some of them immediately rushed up the hill. A second and third group made a detour to the other side of the hills. Along the river, which flowed between the hills into the valley to Bgongne, dozens of men pushed rafts made of tree trunks off the bank and jumped aboard.

The men blindly followed their leader's orders. They were not afraid of the devil, but they were afraid of Kron. A giant of a guy who wore a necklace with what looked suspiciously like small dried hands around his fat neck. His muscles were enormous, even for a Sact. He was a fierce warrior, skilled with any weapon and without a weapon if necessary. No one was so mean in battle as he, and so devoid of pity. But the latter applied to every Sact and Sactin.

No, that was not what they were afraid of. It wasn't for his madness either, or his scarred face. Nor for the many scalps that adorned his armor. No, it was his insanity that terrified him. It was what he did with conquered peoples and sometimes with Sacten themselves. Fear also about what he had done to his sister, mother and father.

The main force, partly on horseback and armed with long lances, stayed with him. Brown-skinned guys with dark eyes and long black hair, often in braids or tied in a ponytail. Not a word was exchanged. The beginning of neighing by a horse was immediately punished with the flat of the sword. Kron's black eyes gleamed ominously behind his visor. He controlled his war horse - in green armor just like him - with an iron leg grip. A bird gave the beginning of a warning call. It was immediately smothered by several arrows and a throwing knife. No sound, was Kron's command.

Nothing could warn the inhabitants of Bgongne in advance of the disaster that awaited them. The deployed guard posts that were supposed to guard the area around Bgongne lay on the ground behind the war band like a pile of unrecognizable dirt. Kron himself had taken great pleasure in handling them. Grinning and growling, he had tortured the guards to find out how the town was guarded. Even when he had literally carved out all the information, he couldn't stop. The captured guardsmen probably experienced their eventual death as a gift. Yet that was not what he owed his nickname to. A nickname that terrified everyone in the area when they heard it. Kron the Madman. The inhabitants of Bgongne - if they did not already know - would find out soon enough what he owed it to.

Brin leaned on his scythe for a moment and wiped away the sweat pouring from his head. Having a cup of coffee? He did not wait for his wife's answer. He dropped his scythe, walked to the fire, grabbed the simmering pot and filled two cups with coffee. Leaning against each other, they enjoyed the aroma from the steaming cups.

Life is good, Brin remarked, looking around happily. He was an always cheerful farmer. Every year the harvest is bigger.

His wife smiled. What harvest, Brin, she teased him lovingly, casually rubbing her large belly where she could feel life stirring. She watched their three other children playing further away. Do you mean our children?

Brin placed their cups on the floor and lovingly pulled his wife into his arms. Of course, that one too. And there's room for more, he whispered in her ear.

She leaned against his chest for a moment. Like the other men in Bgongne, he wore his blond hair at medium length. His eyes were blue and his skin white despite the almost always shining sun. He was broad and strong from hard work in the fields. Fear was not in his dictionary. She rubbed her hand briefly over his forearm as he pressed her against him. Has anyone ever told you what a sweetheart of a man you are?

He was still considering an answer when they were both startled by the wild howls of war rolling down from the hill above them. To their horror, dozens of guys in green armor ran down the hill. They brandished swords and axes to frighten the peasants.

But instead of farmers running away and soldiers panicking, this time things were different. The Sacts! Arm yourself, Brin roared fearlessly. A raid! He himself set a good example by grabbing a shield from the nearest cart. He didn't need a sword, he was more skilled with his scythe, which he was already gripping.

Around him the other farmers ran to the wagons to grab their weapons. The peasant women also armed themselves. The way they held their weapons showed that they had used them before. Older children picked up the little ones and hid behind the wagons. The soldiers were certainly not impressed by the wild shouting and waving of weapons from the war band charging towards them. Attempts were made several times to rob the prosperous town. While the peasants armed themselves and lined up for battle, the soldiers grabbed their bows.

The war band formed an easy target on the hill. The sinews sang and the first volley of arrows whizzed towards their target less than ten seconds after the attack began. Unfortunately for the soldiers, almost all the arrows ricocheted off the armor of the Sacts. Only a few lucky shots hit the target where a helmet did not fit properly to a harness, or where a peephole in the visor was pierced. The robbers laughed scornfully at the loss of a few comrades, drowning out the screams of the wounded. They ran at full speed down the last part of the hill. More deaths occurred around them. The soldiers turned out to be first-class marksmen and had discovered the weak spot of their attackers. The screaming war band showed no signs of slowing down and ran straight through the field towards the farmers. They grimly raised their axes and swords and were ready to strike. Surely those farmers would flee now? The robbers thus made an expensive mistake, which many of them paid for with their lives.

Forward! Brin shouted. Protect the children! Put that scum to the sword!

The farmers did not need more encouragement. They walked towards the gang with scythes and swords swinging. The armor often protected the robbers from arrows, but the scythes, which were struck with ferocious force, went right through them. Only a few farmers were killed by axes hurled at them by the robbers. The gang did not know how quickly to retreat from the swinging scythes against which they had no defense.

Despite the initial success, Brin remained wary. He knew the battle wasn't over yet. The gang was too big to take any notice of this resistance for long. They would attack again and be more wary. He braced himself for the inevitable second attack.

Brin! His wife's voice was filled with despair.

He looked back as if bitten by a snake. He followed her gaze and felt his heart sink. More war bands had emerged behind them. One gang attacked the city guards at the gates of Bgongne. Burning arrows took a dive and landed on the thatched roofs. Flames flared and plumes of smoke rose into the cerulean sky. The second band was so large that it overran the soldiers and farmers on the other side of the fields with their first attack. Brin watched in horror as his fellow citizens were mercilessly attacked. Rafts loaded with Sacten approached the unprotected city center across the river.

Pay attention! Brin immediately understood the attackers' intention. He straightened up and pointed with his scythe. They're cutting off our escape route. Attack now, before we find ourselves between two fires.

The farmers did not need more encouragement. Shouting loudly, they headed straight through the breaking grain towards the war band that was just regrouping. The soldiers, who were stationed as a guard post on the side of the fields and meadows, also joined the battle.

Excited by the battle, Brin saw the war band falling into disarray. Apparently they had never experienced such opposition before! In the heat of the battle he failed to notice that these Sacts were at least two heads smaller than him.

With the courage of desperation, the Sacts first offered fierce resistance and claimed ten victims. The peasants armed with scythes soon drove a wedge into the center of the war band. The soldiers and peasant women armed with swords cut through the flanks at the robbers whose order of battle had been broken. Other soldiers, with well-aimed shots from their bows, ended the lives of many of the Sacts whose resistance collapsed. Slowly the savage screams of the Sacts faded into death cries. Some threw down their weapons, which clattered into a growing heap.

Brin watched in amazement as other Sacts begged for their lives. He saw the panic and terror that broke out among their captors and heard crying. He smelled the vomit of an opponent he was knocking down. Were these those fierce, unbeatable Sacts? The Sacts who had terrorized the entire region in recent years? Who had robbed the villages of their crops and riches? Who had exterminated the male population? Who had raped those women? Who had their children kidnapped and probably sold into slavery? He had known many of them. As a trader, or as a friend, and even in his immediate family.

He felt no compassion for the enemy. No mercy for these animals! With a final ferocious attack led by the unleashed Brin, the remainder of the war band was cut to pieces. Then suddenly tired, Brin's shoulders slumped at the sight of all those dead people. Wounded people groaned around him. What devil had entered him?

A loud horn blast from the direction of Bgongne made him look up. The city garrison advanced towards the enemy! The cavalry, consisting of almost fifty men, rushed out of the city gate and got into a fierce fight with the band of Sacts who wanted to enter Bgongne. The third band, which was on its way to the fight between the peasants and their comrades in the field, turned and came to the aid of their fellow tribesmen.

Meanwhile, the rafts crossing the river into the city were pelted by angry city residents. The arrows of the Sacts caused many casualties, but it was insufficient to interrupt the rain of stones. Some rafts capsized in the raging current or ran aground on boulders just below the water's surface.

Look at that, Brin shouted proudly to his wife despite everything. We'll make mincemeat of those gangs!

Indeed, the cavalry made a breach in the battle order of the two war bands that were trying to unite. Many people were killed and injured on both sides, but the final outcome seemed to be certain.

Put them to the sword, a young farmer shouted gleefully.

Finish those Sacts, shouted another.

Farmer girls who, like Brin and his wife, had fought along, went the extra mile. No mercy, kill those murderers. Dirty cattle thieves, filthy slavers. They jumped up and down shouting to emphasize their words.

Brin listened to it, shaking his head. He looked worriedly at the fight at the city gate, which was becoming increasingly fierce. Many Sacts died, but also many defenders.

There was a groan behind Brin and his wife. Wary they looked back and saw a Sact half standing up with a dagger in his hand. Without thinking twice, Brin struck relentlessly with his scythe. The Sact yelped and collapsed. His head hit a rock and the helmet came off his head. His white face framed with blond curls became visible. There was some flaxen stubble on his chin. Blue eyes were vomiting and streams of blood were running from his nose and mouth.

Brin felt his wife's hand grab his arm and squeeze. Her horrifying scream ripped through his bones and broke off as she collapsed. He felt himself getting cold. He recognized the Sact, recognized his wife's nephew. A child of just twelve years old when he disappeared a few years ago during a robbery by the Sacten, just like many other children. He shuddered in horror and realized the tragedy. Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward and removed another dead Sact's helmet. And another one and another one.

The farmers around him noticed what he was doing. They stared, as he did, at the small figures and faces of the warriors who had attacked them. With their hands clasped over their mouths, they saw the blond hair and blue eyes of the war band that had wanted to kill and rob them. Slowly it dawned on them what Kron the Madman had done to them and they turned white. They threw away their weapons in horror. The triumph they had felt at their victory faded and was replaced by shame and sadness. Revulsion at what they had done to their own relatives sent shivers down their spines.

Fear struck, nearly extinguishing any resistance as thunderous drums of war sounded from the hills all around them. The main force of the Sacts marched down. The ground shook under their stamping. The war bands with children had been no more than a small vanguard. A pawn sacrificed by Kron's mad mind. Before the main force galloped a fierce horde of cavalry with felled lances.

Within a few minutes and in a single attack, the Sactian cavalry cleared away the remainder of the hopeless garrison without any difficulty. The main force itself split. Some of them came towards Brin and his companions. In desperation, the devastated and tired farmers resisted the superior forces. They didn't stand a chance now that they had to fight the Sacts themselves. Peasants were mercilessly murdered and peasant women who resisted suffered the same fate. Brin died riddled with arrows in his wife's arms. Her fate was hardly better. Spears impaled her chest and large belly without any mercy. The peasant women who surrendered were taken with their children to the town where the other Sacts lived. Later the farmers would wish that they too had fought to the death.

Kron had separated from his war bands and descended the hill alone. Sitting on his war horse, he watched with enjoyment as the fighting raged around him right in front of the city. Look over there, Buckle, he pointed out. The decimeter-long point of a Sactian lance disappeared into a soldier who groaned as the barbed point was turned.

Buckle rubbed his hands in pleasure. That must hurt a bit, he said falsely, without feeling the least bit sorry for the dying soldier.

What are you doing? Leetun, who suddenly stood next to him, snapped in her high-pitched voice. Isn't that what he gets paid for?

Kron's laugh could be heard far away as Leetun's joke reached him.

A farmer's wife who fled from a burning farm with her hair flying and two children in her arms, caught Kron's attention. She looked in terror at the huge barbarian who watched her alone. Kron spurred his horse and gave chase, brandishing his sword and axe.

A Sact, who had just driven a violently struggling wench into a corner, did not look up or turn around when his leader - talking to himself and gesturing to invisible companions - pounced on the farmer's wife and her children.

Hey, Buckle, Kron shouted as one of his two inseparable companions leaned over him. Does this remind you of the time I captured my mother and sister the same way?

That bitch deserved it, Leetun screeched, appearing next to Buckle. Your mother spanked you when you were fourteen years old just because you did something nasty to your little sister. The fact that you stabbed her and that little clicker to death with your father's sword was their own fault.

Buckle's fierce eyes burned into Kron's soul. "It's just a shame that you also murdered your father in his sleep afterwards, you idiot. Even by iitorturing and killing every inhabitant of New Earth, you won't bring him back."

Dangerously slowly, Kron rose to his feet and glared at Buckle and Leetun before he pulled himself back onto his horse and looked around. Buckle and Leetun had appeared from nowhere after he killed his father, mother and sister. Since then they have accompanied him day and night. All his attempts to kill the two had failed just as often. Finally, he had given up on getting rid of Gesp and Leetun.

Part of the city was on fire. A house collapsed with a crash. Flames leaked along the thatched roofs and the fire spread. Kron licked his lips, feeling his excitement rise. Five of his men grabbed a screaming girl running around in the streets and pushed her into a house with brutal force. The door slammed behind them. Screams continued in fits and starts for a long time and then suddenly died away. The men came out. Only. Behind them, flames leaked from the house. These were now his Sacts. Kron's upper lip curled upward in pride and lust. Buckle and Leetun were silent in approval.

The creaking of cars became audible. Following his army, the rest of the Sacts came down the hills. Women, children and slaves. His men were merciless, but that was nothing compared to the falseness of their women. Kron squeezed his eyes shut in intense pleasure as the Sactian women entered the city, threw themselves into battle and crushed the last resistance.

Oh, look how they beat those poor residents and their children with those nasty hard clubs, Gesp said.

Tss, Leetun slurred through clenched teeth. At least we know how to deal with resistance. You do realize that if someone doesn't submit now, he won't submit later either.

For a change, Gesp wholeheartedly agreed with her. Indeed, no mercy. Anyone who resists must be killed. We are not Sacts for nothing.

Smell the smell of blood mixing with the burning smell. Kron drank it in wholeheartedly. He watched with pleasure as children were chased into wagons and women were tied behind them.

The plundering raid lasted all day. Wagons full of loot left the city, loaded with everything the robbers could use or squander. The cattle in the pasture were rounded up and some were slaughtered for the banquet that evening. The newly filled granaries were looted. This was the largest and richest city the Sacts had ever attacked, and larger ones were sure to follow.

All the while Kron remained in place, eagerly awaiting his turn. Leetun and Gesp never left his side, while Kron was fighting his impatience. He had enough soldiers. Child soldiers to sacrifice even more, especially after today. His cruel idea, which was born years ago, turned out well again here. He looked at the children being taken away in wagons and he felt the fear burning in them. Fear, so easy to transform into hate. He would ensure that that hatred was further fueled. That they started doing things that their parents would be deeply ashamed of. At least, if they were still alive. His unexpected laughter echoed loudly and madly across the field.

Leetun's merciless gaze focused on the captured women. Stumbling and crying, they were dragged behind the wagons driving out of the city. A woman tripped and fell. Two Sactian women rushed forward and pulled her up by the hair, cursing viciously. A knife flashed and the poor woman screamed. What a devil's linen! Leetun enjoyed the screams and the red spots splashing on the dress.

Kron downed a pitcher of beer so greedily that streams of beer ran over his beard and clothes. It was a long wait today.

On the field in front of Bgongne, Sacten drove stakes into the ground. Others dragged the captured men towards it. Most of the prisoners were injured and groaning in pain. The Sacts mercilessly hoisted them to their feet and tied them to the posts. Those who could barely stand on their own two feet were given a helping hand. Screams drowned out the sound of hammering nails. Little Sactian children played with bows and arrows around the prisoners and used them as targets. An arrow from one of the children hit a prisoner in the ear, who screamed in pain. Immediately the child's mother came out and gave him a slap on the ear followed by a scolding. Idiot, you almost shot him. Better aim next time, or I'll give you a beating! With a well-aimed kick she chased the screaming child. Kron watched with laughter along with Leetun and Gesp.

The wagons with the captured women and children were lined up around the field. The burning city in the background lit up the scene in the gathering darkness. Meanwhile, Kron prepared for his regular ritual. Two scimitars were handed to him and he hung them on his belt. He gripped a two-bladed ax in his left hand. On the right he clutched a lance under his arm. His horse wanted to rear up, uneasy because of the flames still coming from a nearby house. Kron kicked the beast in the stomach to subdue it and immediately afterwards spurred it with full force. He couldn't wait any longer. The wind sang against his armor and the scalps on his helmet whipped back and forth. Kron cried out and Leetun loudly urged him on. Blood! Blood!

His men also cheered him on. They knew what was about to happen and loudly encouraged their leader. Blood! Blood!

The trapped women and children near the wagons tugged in vain at their chains. Shivering with fear, they looked at their husbands or fathers helplessly tied to the posts. Impending doom was in the air.

Sacts were devilish. Kron could teach Satan another lesson in cruelty. He did not need the encouragement of his men. His heart pumped his blood through his veins with thunderous beats. The heavy war horse beneath him went at full gallop towards the chained men.

In his first charge he used his lance and ax several times until they got stuck. When he had passed the prisoners, he pulled so hard on the reins that his horse reared back. He eagerly pulled out the two scimitars. Three times he chased his horse past the chained men, foam pouring from the beast. He sowed death and destruction. During his last charge he jerked the reins again. The heavy war horse reared and landed on top of one of the bound men with pounding hooves.

Kron lost his last bit of self-control. Screaming, he slid off his horse. Like a madman he slashed and slashed at everything he could hit with his two scimitars. The smell of the blood was driving him crazy, making him even more insane than he already was. Buckle and Leetun shouted along with him in full surrender and Kron felt his climax approaching.

The screams of the captured children as they saw the horrible scene of a Sact single-handedly slaughtering their fathers excited him even more. He threw away his swords and tore off his helmet. Drool and foam dripped from his open mouth and with his bare hands he grabbed a man chained to a post, screaming in terror. His head shot forward as he pulled the desperately struggling guy against him. Leetun enjoyed with him as he tasted the blood. Kron felt his thighs cramp and cried out. In a daze, he grabbed his knife and threw himself at other bound men. Whether they were dead or alive, it didn't matter to him. Buckle howled for it, Leetun demanded it of him, his own black soul yearned for it. For a moment he forgot the images of his father, mother and sister that haunted his mind all day long. His crotch grew warm and again he screamed loudly as he finally collapsed in satisfaction and Buckle and Leetun disappeared for a moment.

Minutes later, Kron rose to his feet, his clothes red and sticky. Together with Leetun he strode towards the captured children. Some lay crying on the wagon they were chained to. Most shrank back in fear at his approach. Others stared at him with hate-filled eyes.

Untie those children and give them a sword, Kron shouted at the Sactian women guarding the children.

They have to fight, Leetun screamed. Against each other. Let them kill the weak among them themselves.

Kron grinned. Exactly, only the strongest are worth training. We need a new vanguard, whiners are unnecessary. With his ax raised, he walked towards the captured children who were crying the loudest, accompanied by Leetun and Gesp, who had also appeared from nowhere.

The remaining children allowed themselves to be led to the arena without their will. Fear and hatred for the cruel leader of the Sacts was visible on their faces. A few clutched their swords and peered around among the other children for a weaker one.

Kron the Madman, his military had not given him this name for nothing.

Beginning of a search

T'orkh heard the branches and roots tearing off bushes as he labored to push the hatch up a bit. Just in front of him he heard a little bird fluttering away. Beside him Tmara emerged from the subterranean passage. With combined forces they pushed the hatch with the heavy load of earth and shrubs a little further up. Through the crack that this created, T'orkh was able to take a first cautious look at the surroundings.

The hatch gave access to a small clearing full of man-sized thorn bushes. Farther away, trees rose dozens of feet. The dense canopy largely filtered the daylight. Green-colored twilight reached down to the ground where mosses, brown-colored leaves and small, bright green ferns covered the ground. The scent of fresh-smelling greenery mixed with that of dead leaves. T'orkh sniffed it happily, glad to leave the musty smell of the subterranean passage behind him. In the forest he heard the rustling of leaves, caused by a gentle breeze and animals scurrying about. Once the call of a hidden bird was heard.

T'orkh's keen eye found a game trail where two Anpants prowled ahead in search of food. Worms and insects were probably plentiful in this open and sultry place in the forest. The Anpants largely blended in with their surroundings due to their brown and green spotted skin. T'orkh knew the animals. The thick skin of bone plates grown over each other protected the Anpants against the thorns. In addition, the animals had razor-sharp claws and teeth. Not only did they use it to dig out roots, they could also use it to get vicious when attacked. T'orkh knew that even a Gnorff iiiwould think twice before attempting to capture an Anpant. Despite this, the Anpants were always on the lookout for trouble. The young man saw that the creatures were alarmed, probably by the sound of the hatch opening. They stood on their hind legs, supported by their long tail. They explored the area with quick, nervous glances.

Reassured by what he saw and heard, T'orkh signaled to Tmara and together they pushed the hatch open further. The roots of the bushes tore from the ground with brute force and some broke with a snapping sound. The Anpants did not wait to see what would emerge from the ground. Faster than T'orkh would have thought possible, they disappeared into the forest. Their short, crooked legs made them make swinging movements, which gave a comical effect. The latter was further enhanced by the tapping sound of the legs hitting back and forth.

T'orkh chuckled softly as he watched the creatures with amusement. He squeezed out through the narrow opening and pushed the bushes aside, being careful not to damage more than was strictly necessary.

After him, the others from his party came out one by one. They inhaled the fresh air in large gulps, happy to have been freed from the stuffy underground passage. With their weapons ready, they explored the unknown environment in pairs.

Meanwhile, T'orkh carefully lowered the hatch and tamped the earth. Then, walking backwards, he pulled branches over the trail they had made as best he could. It wouldn't be long before the brush would overgrow the place again. The chance that someone would simply find the hatch was therefore almost impossible.

After these precautions, he straightened up and surveyed the motley crew that accompanied him and explored the area.

Rolauth, a Cy’Risiv. A giant of a guy, wide and massively muscled, more than eight feet tall and weighing at least 200 kilos. T'orkh had been impressed when he had first seen the Cy'Ris. Not least because of his curly dark blonde hair and wild beard with ditto moustache. In his tunic of Tricemuth hide and armed with a huge war hammer and fighting stick, he looked as if he could take on a band of Sacts single-handedly. It probably was. His people had inexplicably disappeared while he was far from home. He had sought help in Oval-Lath, T'orkh's homeland. Rolauth's eyes met T'orkh's in amusement. The giant rarely left his side, even though he knew that the Oval-Lathan could take excellent care of himself with his special ability.

T'orkh's eyes wandered to the three Vealcqs in the party, Kylannii, Kinnong, and Yarp. Their people, from the planet Vealcqv, had come to New Earth along with Earth settlers almost a thousand years ago. They were fragile and small in size and also recognizable by their blue slanting eyes and curly white-blonde hair. They had arrived at Oval-Lath almost at the same time as Rolauth. Barbarians had discovered their city deep in the mountains, which they had inhabited for many centuries, and now they were looking for a new land where they could settle. A land where they would be safe from the hordes of humans who have roamed New Earth like savages since civilization was largely destroyed centuries ago.

A cheerful smile drew T'orkh's attention to the two Oval-Lathan friends, Tmara and Deandrea. The first, Tmara, always cheerful and at the same time extremely concerned about the fate of her kidnapped parents. He was madly in love with Tmara and she with him. She walked smoothly along the forest path. Her light brown arms and legs protruded from a dark brown, short dress made of soft leather. On her back she carried a bow with an accompanying quiver and a knife with a narrow, curved blade hung from her belt. Two braids were braided in her long raven hair. Her blue eyes met his as she looked back, smiling as if she knew he was watching her. She raised her eyebrows in an arch, mocking good-naturedly. The second, Deandrea, a recently roguish tease who was plagued by the grief of her recently murdered mother. She looked exactly like Tmara in stature and face, only her hair was blond and her eyes were sparkling green. Then there is the somewhat sullen and closed Brocq, a friend of T'orkh through thick and thin.