Lost Brothers by Redding

[Kheren]

This is a short story introduction I wrote for an RPG game called Scion, you play the child of a God in the modern world.

*Some mild language, where appropriate.





LOST BROTHERS
Scion RPG

He remembered the crash in flashes of confusion and shrieking alarms.
The Black-hawk was pulling hard left and spinning wildly out of control, it all ended with a deafening crash and.. numbness.
Three of his four teammates lay dead, the fourth Hitchens, had a chunk of metal in his gut at least a foot long. Although still alive not much more could be said for the man.
He wasn't going to be moving anywhere soon.
His voice stressed with pain he called out. “Victor?” He looked over at him “Ya, I'm still here Hitch” he knelt beside him, looking him over. “Looks bad Hitch, there’s not much I can do..” Hitch twitched with pain for a few minuets before choking out another question. “Any idea what happened? It was like we went dead stick all of a sudden..” Victor stuck him with two doses of morphine to help the pain then crawled over the bodies of friends up to the cockpit of the helicopter.
What he saw there shocked him, the pilot had been shot just above the left eye.
“Impossible..” he mumbled. No one was that good, to dead hit a pilot in a moving bird doing around 70 mph. Victor shrugged it off “Lucky bastard..” It had to be luck, no other possibility.
Luck or not, who ever did this was still out there.
He went back to Hitch. “Pilot was hit, dam lucky shot for some asshole for sure.”
“Luck?” Hitch chuckeled and coughed up some blood. “Man, don’t make me laugh, your killing me.” Victor just shook his head “Looks like the morphs kicking in, you never had a sense of humor before.”
Victor started collecting ammo and gear “Shooters still out there, I have to move before he catches up to us.”
Hitch waved at him feebly “Ill just hang here if you don't mind Vic, but be sure to say hi from me 'k?” Victor gave him a reassuring smile “You know it buddy.” and crawled out of the craft.
Its was late noon and hot, a barren landscape stretched in all directions broken now and then by hills and rocks.
He hated the desert but you went where the work was, and right now that meant Iraq.
Spotting a grouping of rocks a mile or so off he made for them, it would be a good sighting point and would give descent cover, if he didn't get shot getting there.
A hundred meters short he heard the sound of a vehicle and made a mad dash for the remaining distance.
It turned out to be three vehicles, Iraqi soldiers from the look of them. He pulled off his rifle and paced them through the scope, they where heading straight to the downed Black-hawk. They surrounded it yelling and firing shots into the air but when no one came out they went in cautiously.
Victor weighed his options, but came up blank. There were to many to take by himself and the fact was that Hitchens would have a better chance to survive if captured.
He was relieved to see them carrying Hitch out soon after and putting him in one of the vehicles.
His scope passed over all of them one at a time until he found the officer in charge, he seemed the same as any Iraqi officer, loud and demanding. But he was talking to another man that looked different than the rest, British maybe, or an American.
As the man talked his eyes scanned the horizon until he was facing Victor then stopped.
His head tilted slightly and he smiled, Victor could have sworn he had made a slight wave at him as if to say 'I see you' but then looked back at the officer. It took everything Victor had not to duck down or move when that happened, But he stayed still.
A sudden chill went though Victor as he realized that this was the man that shot his pilot and killed most of his team. His finger slipped past the trigger guard and caressed the trigger. He wanted to blow his head off so bad it hurt, but it would be the same as killing Hitchens and himself so with effort he backed off.
As he watched the man get into the vehicle with Hitch and drove off, there was no indication that he had seen him or not but if so, he didn't share it with the rest.
They were breaking up into teams, no doubt to look for him so he pulled back keeping low until he had enough cover, then got some distance between them.
That was five days ago, the last two without water.
He traveled only at night conserving his energy and following his compass west towards the only civilization he knew of, but with no accurate heading or distance to go by it was a long shot at best.
He knew that the lack of water was starting to take its toll and he was dehydrated, but the thought of surrendering was mixed with the video he saw of that civilian contractor getting his head sawn off, so he kept walking.
Twice over the last week he'd ran into patrols and spotter stations but couldn't get close enough to grab any supply's, it was almost like they knew he was nearby and put out extra guards, so he was forced to move on.

On the morning of the sixth day he was down to the last of his provisions, a pack of MRE crackers. He chewed slowly letting the saliva build in his mouth a much as it could.
There was little light in the pre-dawn sky so it wasn't a complete surprise that he missed a small black bird sitting a dried up bush just a few feet away.
He eyed it for a second but decided it wasn't really big enough to eat and with out water vary hard to digest. 'In fact..' he thought 'the crackers will only make it worse' and tossed the last one at the bird who seemed to eye it suspiciously.
“All yours tweety” and started setting up his bed to sleep through the day.
He dug up and covered a small trench to sleep in, not ideal by any means but the best he could do under the circumstances.


Sometime around noon he was awakened by the sound of squawking and peered out of his makeshift shelter.
The bird had managed to to get fouled up on the edge of his trench and was trying, nosily, to free itself.
With a grumble he reached out and grabbed the bird, oddly it didn't seem to resist as he un-snared its foot and even after he let it go it sat there looking at him from the palm of his hand for several seconds before flying off.
As it did it made a vary sharp dip near the ground before lifting off again.
Victor noticed as it did so that off in the distance the light was reflecting off something, and it seemed to be to big to be a shinny rock.
He scratched down the direction in the ground and went back to sleep, he decided to check it out after sun down, it might be something he could use.
Hours later he was moved out following the heading he took with his compass, visibility was good tonight as the moon was full, and that bird was still here as well, it seemed to stay ahead of him as if it somehow knew witch way to go.
A few miles behind him however a small dog of some kind trotted up to his campsite and started sniffing around his bedding. He had filled it back in of course but that didn't fool the dogs nose in the lest. After walking back and forth a few more times it let out a series of yips and laid down to wait. Less than an hour passed before several more dogs joined it at the campsite. Then as a pack, they set out in the same direction that Victor had taken, moving at an easy trot.

Victor walked on but doubt had started to trouble his mind. Why had he decided to check this out? It wasn't like him to chase after flashes of light, he was starting to feel a little silly.
For no reason he could think of he stopped and looked over his shoulder, neither seeing or hearing anything he continued walking, but at a faster pace.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed and a kind of fear gripped at him. Try as he might he couldn't ignore it either, it was like something breathing down his neck and he found himself looking over his shoulder several more times.
Not realizing it he picked up his pace until he was almost at a run.
In the dim light ahead he saw what he was headed for, it was large with some sort of protrusion on one end. As he paused to make it out a yipping sound from behind him got his attention and he turned to look.
The first of the dogs had spotted him and broke into a dead run, behind it Victor could see more movement, almost like the sand was coming to life and coming for him.
A voice cut through the still desert air taking him by surprise.
“This way man! Hurry!” It was spoken in German but Victor knew that language well.
Half in/out of the thing a man was waving at him to join him.
He had slowed down slightly to look at the man until he saw the lead dog bearing down on him, he put on more speed while pulling out his beretta.

As the first dog closed on him he half turned and fired from just ten feet away, catching the dog in the right shoulder to flip over onto itself but Victor didn't stop to check if it was dead, he was just reaching the Vehicle.
As he climbed up he realized it was an old tank covered with ratty camo netting, the top hatch was open.
He thought his foot had caught on the netting until the pain set in and he looked down to see another dog biting into his leg, just at the boot. Aiming quickly he pulled the trigger and half of the dogs head came off with a flash. Then shaking it off he clambered into the hatchway and grabbed the hatch and pulled, it came down slowly and made an earsplitting screeching noise as it did. It took all his fading strength but the hatch closed with a vary audible 'click'. The sound of the dogs walking on top, scratching and growling could be heard but he was safe for now.
He sat down in the gunners seat and just breathed for a little while to calm down, then looked around. The interior of the tank was lit by a single red covered bulb and in the driver seat sat a man dressed as a German solider, watching him closely.
“I was sure you would not make it” he said casually still speaking in German.
“I'm faster than I look, and thanks for the assist by the way.” he started reloading his pistol, he was down two rounds and still had a full clip, so twelve rounds in all.

He looked at the German again who sat nervously watching him. “Don't worry, I'm not going to shoot you. So whats your story anyway? If you don't mind me saying you seem... out of place.”
The German nodded “Perhaps I do, but your German is poor.. are you an American?” the last part he said in English and Victor had to admit it was better than his German.
“Yes, names Victor.. Victor Keillor. Civilian contractor for Blackwater security’s, you know, for Desert Storm?” but he expected the answer he got.
“Another war? Truly there is no end to them in this land, why is your country involved in this one?”. Victor shrugged “Ask a different person and get a different answer, some for revenge for an attack on New York and others think it's for oil, me? I'm here because they pay me to work here, and they pay well.”
“Ahh.. a mercenary then? It fits.” he nodded. “I am Hans Balck of the Fuhrers elite expeditionary forces out of homburg.” he said this with much pride.

Victors mind was working overtime to keep from shutting down. This can't be happening, he was delusional from dehydration, that had to be it. The only other choice came straight out of the twilight zone.
“You seem thirsty my friend, I have enough to share if you'd like.” and handed him a canteen. Victor sniffed it and took a sip and then satisfied it was ok took three long slow drinks. “On the shelf behind you is a tin of rations, you can have them as well.” and sat there watching him with interest.
After testing the food and finding it edible he ate a few portions and drank a little more water. “Been lost in the desert for awhile I'd take it? At least a week?” Victor nodded.
“Not many make it to the tank you know, your the first in many years.” a grim look came over him.
At Victors look he added “Oh yes, there have been a dozen or more over the years, perhaps more. I'm sure not all of them made it close enough to the tank for me to see.”
Victor closed the tin and took another sip of the water. “How was it?” the German asked looking interested again. It was starting to make Victor uneasy.
“Just fine, not having any?” he handed out the tin to him. Hans looked at it longingly but sat back with a sigh “No, you may have it, I'm not.. hungry.”
Victor sat for a few more minuets looking at the man before talking again.
“Look, not to be rude to my host or whatever.. but would you mind telling me whats going on? I'm I delusional or are you a.. well, ghost?” then mumbled to himself “Great, I'm asking my delusion to tell me if its a ghost.”
The German thought about it “To be honest I'm not sure, I think it likely that I am. First, tell me the year? I wish to know.” Victor just smiled and nodded his head “Ok, fair enough.. its March 12th, 2008.” Hans sighed and looked up. “More than 70 years has past sense I was sent here.” He looked back at Victor “Regardless, the reason you are here, the reason we are both here is in that lock-box near the rear of the tank.” and pointed.

Victor scooted over to it, a metal box had been welded against the plate, the door had a combination lock like an old safe. “If I decide to tell you the combination that is, I've still not convinced your the one.” again Victor mumbled “Grate, now I'm 'the one'.”
He looked at the dial and gave it a spin, it turned smoothly. “You may not have to Hans, watch this.” He put his hand to his head and started mumbling to himself, numbers could be heard, then he nodded and spun the dial. Three times it spun and three times it clicked and to Hans's surprise the door popped open. “But how?” he stammered.
Victor started pulling out it's contents one by one, there wasn't much, a couple of log books and something long wrapped in cloth. “Something I saw in an old war movie once when I was a kid.” then mimicked the actor “Hitler's birthday would open half the safes in Germany, the date of his rise to power the other.” and smiled at Hans as he started to unwrap the object. “I'm sure glad you didn't pick the latter, I'd have had to guess..” but stopped as the cloth reveled a golden blade over two feet in length , double edged.
He looked at it then at Hans “Is this.. what I think it is?” A grin spread over Hans face “What? The Spear of Destiny?” and let it sit there for a few seconds more then laughed
“No my friend, that is a sword blade, not a spearhead. It is the sword 'Asa ha'deem almote' or in English, 'Serpents death', it belonged to my father once, long ago, and has been guarded by our family for generations upon generations.

“The story goes that at one time a grate serpent God from the south, called Set, once clashed with a God of the north named Vi'dar and bled mightily upon the frozen ground of the Aesir where it froze. Later this blood was later used to temper a sword of great power and given to a faithful warrior to slay Set.

But one of the guardians of Set broke the sword in half.
Each piece was made into its own blade by the craftsmen of Ra, the Egyptian God of the sun. one of them was returned to the Aesir, the other stayed with Ra.”
He went on “70 years ago.. well, 140 years ago now it would seem, this sword was stolen from our family.” Victor smiled “140 years huh? Time fly’s I guess.”
“Indeed Victor, and now it will fly for you as well, for now the task of guarding it falls to you, little brother.” Victor eyed him skeptically. “What do you mean by little brother Hans? First of all your old enough to be my great.. great grandfather.” Hans removed his dog tags. “Only a member of our bloodline could have retrieved the sword from this place, you will also want these..” and tossed him the dog tags. One of them looked like a flat smooth rock, etched with a symbol. “It's rune means vengeance, it's the mark of our father.”
Victor gave a slight laugh “Look Hans, even if I bought into all this, witch I don't, in order for us to be brothers our dad would have to be at least.. 90, I think my Mom would have mentioned that, He was just some sniper she met in the Rangers, no more than 30.” Hans just smiled at said “It would not matter if he was immortal, like say.. a God?”

Several minuets passed before Victor spoke again “Witch God, precisely?”
“Vi'dar Odinson, the Aesir or 'Norse' God of vengeance and survival.
Victor scratched his head and sat back “Norse, like Thor and Loki and the rest? Can't say I recall a God named Vi'dar..”
Looking prideful again like only a German can Hans spoke up “He was second only to Thor in power and the only member of the pantheon to survive Ragnarok or 'death of the Gods' in their legend.” Victor was starting to notice he could see through Hans, and he was sure he couldn't do it before.
“Ok..” Victor started tapping the blade against his temple. “Now I'm starting to believe I really I'm delusional. “First theres that bird that lead me here and now I'm talking to a Nazi, a DEAD Nazi who is also my brother that’s like seventy years older than me when he was alive and oh by the way, I'm the son of a God that I’ve never even even heard of before. And to top it off, I'm suppose to guard a weapon that can kill a god because I'm 'the one' and fated to do it. That sound about right big brother?”

“A bird you say? Was it a raven?” Victor shrugged “sure, why not?” Hans seemed a little hurt by the words “Odin never sent me a guide.. anyway, it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not Victor, you are here now and you will have to face the minions of Set, Jackals, waiting outside for you, them and their pack leader. If you fail you will die, and the sword will fall back into the hands of the Seties.” He was almost gone now, only a dim image remained, as he did the tank it self seemed to age slowly around him.
“My time is up little brother, your time has begun.”



Victor said the first thing that came to mind. “Any.. parting advice 'brother?”
Hans nodded “Just these two things, do not trust our father, He sires prodigy only to use them in his plans. There can be little doubt he is why you have come to this place.”
The image of the American sniper flashed through his mind and he remembered thinking “Impossible, no one could have made that shot..” could it have been.. his father?.

The other piece of advice is to keep that rune with you at all times, it links you to our fathers power and will give you in-sites into the souls of men, you will know a mans guilt by the touch of his hand, and other such ability’s you will discover..” he was nearly completely gone at this point and getting hard to hear.
“I left something in the main gun, this old girl still has one last..” and was gone.

Victor suddenly felt vary tired and stretched out over a makeshift bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
When he awoke he could tell that the sun was up by the light streaming in from the small holes located around the tank.
He stretched smartly then looked around as if seeing the interior for the first time, it was a complete shambles of dry rotted seats and corroded metal. In the corner where his brother had sat was the uniformed and mummified remains of a German tank commander.
Did I dream it all? He wondered. Well one thing was for sure, he felt 100% better for the water and the sleep. Speaking of witch he reached for the canteen and popped the cap off, it smelled stagnant and slopped around like sludge.. his first impulse was to throw up, but he didn't. “Son of a god huh?” and making a sour face he took another sip.
It was revolting.. but he had no trouble swallowing it. He flinched at the thought of looking into the ration tin and deciding not too, stored it away in his pack.
Then he turned his attention to the tanks main gun. The controls were corroded and dilapidated beyond use, it would never fire again.
He opened the breach and saw what appeared to be a black tin can with a wooden handle laying in the barrel, it took him a second to place it, it was an old German grenade.
Pulling it out he looked it over, there was no way of being sure it would work, but it looked OK.
“Thanks brother, but I have one last favor to ask of you before I go..”

The pack of Jackals wondered about aimlessly in the afternoon sun, never straying to far from the tank.
Their pray would come out soon, or it would die in the large metal thing just like others had done before, then they could go back to their den,.

The top hatch popped back open with a bang and a figure jumped out of it, but it was awkward and clumsy and landed poorly on the ground.

The Jackals gave no quarter and swarmed the man in an instant, biting with jaws that could rend flesh and snap bone, but their pray gave no resistance.
They paused to sniff at it and found only the sent of old dead flesh, and it was.. hissing at them.. The grenade went off with a loud pop sound and three of the nearest dogs were ripped apart, two more badly wounded, tried to crawl away yelping with pain.
The rest had scattered fearfully from the sound, hesitantly looking back at the tank.

With a yell Victor lept to the top of the tank with a bound and started shooting at the dog closest to him, three more where dead or dying before they could react.
One of the dogs charged and started up the tank but Victor shot it dead with a single shot to the head. As he did an unearthly howl went up and the remaining Jackals turned and fled, not wanting to risk wasting ammo he held his fire.
Following the sound of the howl he looked to a near by hilltop and saw the pack leader, he was twice the size of the rest and even from here he could see it wasn't a natural thing, and was was starting to walk his way.
“Kill the leader? Can do..” Victor jumped down and walked slowly in it's direction.
He had three rounds left in his pistol, another three in his other clip but he didn't have time to combine them.
But three should do the trick he told himself, it was a big dog, but still just a dog.
As he watched it slowly approach he noticed that a shadow was closing the gap between them, he looked up but the sky was free of clouds.
When the shadow reached him the area grew darker and darker, The pack leader became a dim movement in the background and then.. nothing.
To his horror he couldn’t see at all, not the hand in front of his face, not even the sun in the sky, the darkness was complete.
The sound of running feet came from directly in front of him and he fired a shot into the darkness, he couldn't even see the muzzle flash.
There was no indication he had hit it, or anything else for that matter as the sound moved away on his left.
His breathing got heavy, the sound of his own hart pounded in his ears.
Something touched his leg and he fired a round out of reflex into the air and cursed himself.
But the next time he was hit he felt it, something slammed into him knocking him over, he could hear it snarling.. feel its hot breath just inches from his face.
Without thinking he pulled the trigger and the round struck home, it yelped painfully and backed off, but he knew it wasn't a fatal wound.
Ejecting his pistols clip he reached for his last three rounds but his hand fell on the sword he slipped into his belt.
Instantly the darkness lifted, not gone completely, more like a night with a full moon out, brite enough to read by.


He could see the Jackal, the minion of Set not ten feet away, it was moving to pounce.
He met the leap with the sword out thrust and it sank to the hilt without any resistance, the Jackal gave out a dying shriek that sound strangely human and tumbled to the ground dead.
The shadow faded quickly and Victor could see the remains of the pack, now leaderless, running away.
With a great sigh of relief, he sat down.

Three days later an American plane spotted a lone figure signaling them west to their position, they radioed it in and within an hour a helicopter arrived on pick him up.
The door gunner commented on the return trip, yelling over the sound of the props.
“We all thought you were dead Keillor, you must be one of the toughest sonsofbitches around!.”
Victor laughed “Survival is what my family does best corporal!”

Later after touch down he met with the rep from Blackwater and the local Iraq liaison.
“Dam good to see you Victor, it's amazing that you survived nearly two weeks out there alone.”
With complete false modesty he shrugged “Takes more than getting shot down in the desert to stop me sir, and I still expect to get payed for my down time.”
The rep shook his head and smiled “The desert didn't tame you at all did it?”

The Iraqi liaison officer walked up and shook his hand. “It's wonderful that you have returned to us Mr. Keillor, if only the rest of your men had been so fortunate.” he said with a frown.
Near by a raven cried.
His frown turned to confusion when Victor wouldn't let go of his hand.
Victor looked at the mans hand then back at his face. “Tell me sir, do you have any idea how the insurgents knew our route?” the man got a nervous look and tried to free his hand, but couldn’t, it was as if it was caught in a vice.
“And where, do you think, they might be holding a captive?”
The look of panic on the mans face was priceless, Victor just smiled.






Author: Shaun C. Gould
Date: 03-18-2011