Five Walls of Nunten

To say that the people from Nunten had forgotten what happened twelve years before would be almost true if not for Gellin and his brother, whose memories stretched back before that of their younger brothers who were still approaching the age of adulthood of eleven. Much had changed in the eyes of Gellin, but he was stout and firm and showed little of the world that he remembered. It’s soft hues and great expanses that flowed from foot to horizon; endless seas of twitching grass that swayed and swam like murmurations of swallows, all was now but a memory.

Little could be seen now that mirrored that image. The dugouts where Gellin resided looked eastward towards one of five walls that divided the scenery. Their purpose was to break the wind entering into Nunten, and as a barrier against intruders. Out of the front of the dugout there was little to admire. The inside face of the nearest wall stared back at the boys. It was built high in a smooth material, blocked the terrain that lay behind it. Four more walls matching in design were placed behind it at slightly different marks. Gellin’s dugout sat closest to the wall, and rarely he had a chance to look at what lay behind his dugout, but he assumed it was the same as that which he saw before him.

The dugout itself was half submerged in the muddy ground, with one story at ground level, another above, and two below, both much wider. The shape overall was that of a large egg shell, with the space forcing you to spend your time in the more spacious areas below the surface. This of course is what was intended.

From the base of the dugout came the supplies that fed the small pod. It seeped from a capped hole like an oil leak, and from here the boys spooned into their hands their meals for the day. It was all the younger boys knew, but Gellin, and Tullin his brother, remembered the harvests from before.

The danger of being so close to the outer wall was that stray intruders often entered with extreme force with the intention of gaining passage or possession of a young and active workforce. The years after everything changed forced savagery to emerge in the place of diplomacy; anger and desperation replaced common teamwork. Gellin alone had seen seven attempted entries by the Pultins, the Thelilians and the Briggers. All had failed to enter beyond the final wall, until this attempt.

As the sirens sounded within the dugouts, a voiced bellowed “Intruder approaching. Thelilian convoy. Remain inside. Remains inside. Remain inside.” This had become all too familiar for Gellin and his dugout after the third encounter, and now they sat, peaking around their entrance to see whether anyone would come in.

“Third wall.” Said one boy.

“No way it’s a Thelilian. Won’t even see them. Probably burn up after the second.” Quipped another, kickstarting a back and forth between all the young boys, but Gellin and Tullin didn’t speak.

“Wait for our shots, go on, wait.” Spoke the first, and with that, the sound of canons shot overhead and through the gaps in the walls. Large thumping booms that pounded and then fizzled through the air until their symphonic explosion.

“I hear it!” And he could. “I hear their convoy!” The second brother could hear the sound of engines approaching and could see the shots from behind beginning to narrow to just behind the fourth wall. Then beyond there. Then just behind the fifth wall. And then the convoy broke out. A spinning of tire and body as the convoy came roaring through from behind the giant barrier. A projectile came hurtling towards it and so the convoy turned abruptly, rolling onto two wheels and sending its rear passengers out of their benches onto the ground.

They were rummaging and panicking, turning to the canons and unleashing their own fire of single shots. The orchestra of deep blows and high trills sang together in a carnage of noise. Another voice entered the choir. The low ground weapons from Nunten’s ground defence. Smaller rapid shots that fired with precision, and one by one the bodies by the convoy fell to the ground.

This was all too typical, and the boys continued their bartering as the bodies collapsed before them. But Gellin looked on at the faceless soldiers from Thelilian as they battled furiously in a fight they could never win. Every time, one convoy would attack with the ferocity of vengeful men, but with so little force. Why would they attempt such a breach in this fashion.

As he watched, he saw two figures left. Two figures of opposite statures and demeanours. The first was a typical soldier, at least fifteen years of age, well built and dressed in Thelilian leather clothing. He had a long knife down his left arm, and held in his hands a square rifle that shot cylinder projectiles. The other figure was smaller. His hemet didn’t fit and he held nothing in his arms. Instead he hid behind the rear of the convoy and was shuffling uncontrollable away from the oncoming shots. He looked around and as the other solider fired back, he ran.

His shoulders were narrow and petite, but he ran with haste and without thought to look around. With his head to the ground, he ran with a frantic pace straight towards Gellin’s dugout and without realising plunged himself into the opening straight into one of the brothers.

Gellin rose to his feet, and being the oldest, stepped forth before his younger brothers as a protector, knowing full well the danger that soldiers like this could bring upon them.

“Leave. Leave now and return to your convoy.” He said commandingly and attempting to appear unshaken, but there was no response. Gellin, with his arms held across the torsos of his brothers repeated his command but before he could finish a whimpering seeped from within the helmet. The soldier turned on his knees to look for the first time at what he’d just left and fell back onto his hands at the sight of it.

The sound of shots soon faded until only the sound of Nunten’s armoury was heard, and then there was nothing. The convoy lay silent in a heap of smoke and flesh. Limbs, melted by Nunten Ignisious projectiles, had melted like hot camembert in the sun around the punctured iron carcass of the truck. A voiced boomed from within the dugout: “Shell 64A, 64F, 78B, clean up.”

Gellin sent his younger brothers forward, and like a colony of ants, wiped the scar from the battlefield and dragged the remains to a central pit about eight hundred metres away nearer the centre of the complex.

All fear had now subsided in Gellin’s mind of this intruder. He was short and no physical threat. His clothing too large, his helmet wobbled with each twitch and shudder, and he helmed no weapon. Only Gellin and Tullin were left inside and after all the youngers had left to clear the field, Tullin turned his shoulders towards the soldier.

“You’re too small to be doing this. We’ve seen convoys like this come through before, always one or two at a time trying to breach Nunten’s walls, and every time Thelilian experiences the same treatment. Who are you? A new brand of Thelilian assassin here to sneak your way in?” He laughed as he closed his sentence, but there was no response. Instead the figure stared at the floor

“Speak fast before my younger brothers return. They will take less fondly to your intrusion than us. They know little besides what you see now.” Said Gellin, now with a sharpness to his voice that pricked the helmet up. With this, the soldier lifted his head to the two, removed his goggles and helmet and revealed himself. The soldier was younger than fifteen, instead seemed about ten years of age, but the expression was soft and fearful. The eyes were bright like two gems amidst a sandstorm, and the shaved head that the two brothers had was instead cover in a waterfall of shimmering blonde hair that cascaded down the the solider’s shoulders. This wasn’t a Thelilian man. Yet before her hair could cover her cheeks, both brothers could see the bruising that filled her face and neck. Besides the abrasions, she shone like polished glass before two men in a desert plain.

At last after composing herself, she lifted her eyes to meet the Gellin and Tullin and said “I am not a soldier. I am Eliton, from the house of Alasell, and I come now as this cycle’s messenger. There is some luck in making it out alive from that delivery. I have not known of any others who have made it beyond the fifth wall.”

“Message? For who do you need to give this and why?” Ask Tullin.

“Little of that is known to me. I do not confuse my position with that of my seniors. I am a messenger and that role requires little more than to carry what I carry.” A mist of confusion roamed the room, before Eliton spoke again.

“I must confess that little is known to me of my next role. I was informed that the convoy would take me to my place of delivery, yet in my hasty retreat I fear I have ran from the purpose set for me.”

“Give it forth then. I take it as is procedure.” Said Gellin, assuming a role that he hoped would feed him for information about the matter. Eliton’s unsteady eyes glinted with purpose, and now rose to meet Gellin. “Present it to me and I will send it to the proper recipient, as is my task.”

Eliton released a brief smile and then stood to attention, and from her neck she pulled out a strap that carried a heavy locket which sat deep beneath her clothes on her stomach. The strap was of brown leather that matched her soldier’s uniform, and the locket itself sat inside a small pouch. She unbuckled it, and from within pulled out an embroidered locket, embedded with runes alien to Gellin and Tullin. From the locket fell a glistening silver chain that Eliton now placed over Gellin’s neck. The locket sat upon his sternum and now it was clear to see its true design. It was heart-shaped, flat on one of the edges where a hinge lay. The back was plain, only detailed with an address of sorts: Pullai, Eight-nine, FL, Thelilian. On its front, a green jewel sat in its breast which was surrounded by smaller gems that circled from blue to purple. Vines of silver swam from the centre outward towards the edge where they dissipated.

“Open it.” Eliton said commandingly, reminding Gellin of his act. Gellin looked to his brother who expressed a face that mirrored Gellin’s own internal uncertainty, and then he open the locket.

Beneath lay a small scroll covered in words that Gellin could barely remember to read. He was young when he learnt the old skills, and now remains the only member of his dugout who can come close to reading script, yet as he unravelled the scroll, he knew that this was beyond his knowledge. Only a few words he knew came clearly to him, the rest he spelled out.

“‘The t-i-m-e has a-r-r-i-v-e-d. Send b-a-c-k one b-a-t-c-h of brothers for the same in s-i-s-t-e-r-s. Three s-u-n-r-i-s-e-s from today.” The note was hand signed and numbered - 2095.32.

With that, three Nunten guards stepped into the entrance, extended their hands, pulled Eliton from the dugout and said, “come, Mother.”