Free Tales From New Otrin (The Nomad) by Max Masen Page A

the crowd's excitement
now.
     
     
II.
     
     
    Brandgurt leaps over a small, decrepit fence and
lands in a tomato garden. They've gone into a neighborhood with
what appears to be a few peaceful residents living there. The
detachment of soldiers Brandgurt is assigned to numbers twenty-six,
and most of them are the younger of the main force.
     
    Brandgurt steps lightly through the garden, careful
not to step on any growing crops. The soldiers around him are not
so delicate. They stomp around and pay little attention to what
lies in their paths. It's their hope to go through the town largely
unnoticed, or at least out of sight before the residents are able
to take action. The soldiers hunch over while passing windows and
talk quietly to avoid anyone that could be watching. They take note
of a few spectators watching from their windows. This hurries their
movement. They know the town militia could be ready to fight within
a few moments of notice.
     
    Brandgurt walks through the garden, his mind idly
wandering. A fellow soldier, Kattey, comes up and puts his hand on
Brandgurt's shoulder, gaining his attention quickly. Brandgurt
looks to him and his eyes light up.
     
    "What is it?" Brandgurt asks quietly.
     
    "Boss says we're taking a right up ahead. Pass it
on." Kattey moves away from Brandgurt and motions to another
soldier nearby to deliver the same message.
     
    Brandgurt walks slowly to a fellow soldier and grabs
his shoulder and bends him over to whisper in his ear. An idea
suddenly appears in Brandgurt’s mind, a chance for freedom and a
chance for adventure. But he disregards these notions and says to
the soldier, “We’re going right ahead.” The soldier nods in
acknowledgement. “Pass it on.” The message is passed down the long
line of soldiers and eventually becomes common knowledge that the
path they are going to take ahead is to the right. But an angry
group of farmers armed with farming tools and hunting tools present
themselves in front of the soldiers. The soldiers stand up and
switch to defensive positions. Brandgurt grips his spear and shield
tightly. The helmet slowly slides down his forehead but he quickly
pushes it back up. A vibe of intense nervousness is present in the
ranks of the soldiers. The farmers number at least one hundred.
Men, women, and children all are armed in defense of their
neighborhood.
     
    The General of the New Otrin soldiers- an old but
well-built man with pointy ears and red skin- steps forward with
arms raised and with a peace-seeking smile on his face. “We mean
you no harm.” He speaks as if the audience of farmers is simple,
stupid. “The group of soldiers you see with me is meant to attack a
group of Brutes that threaten your lives here.”
     
    Silence hangs in the air. The farmers maintain stern
expressions, not a single one of them stepping forward to address
the General directly. The General stands awkwardly and tries to
maintain his exuberant expression. It quickly fades. A flash of
light is seen from deeper into the woods and a bullet suddenly
finds its way into the General’s chest. He falls over into the
garden.
     
    “Form a shield wall!” a soldier screams.
     
    “They have firearms!” another adds.
     
    The soldiers group up together and raise their
shields to protect themselves while a small barrage of bullets land
all around them. The barrage suddenly ends and a soldier yells,
“That’s all they have! Charge!” The shield wall breaks down and
each soldier becomes his or her own unique person again instead of
a single cog in the wall. Brandgurt charges onward with his allies
around him, each armed with their shield and spear. They group
together and use their shields for protection as they move up. The
mob of farmers form a line and raise their tools. Some of them
shoot arrows from bows into the crowd of soldiers. Brandgurt
finally reaches the battle line and the soldiers use the shields to
their advantage. The initial rush from the soldiers forces