The Nomad War, Chapter 3

File Under: Extended Fiction Series

It's been quite a while since TDI's visisted the Nomad War. In fact, I only posted chapter's 1 and 2, in one long post. Well, as I went to write another chapter, apparently I typed quite a bit out already in advance. So for the next couple chapters, they were written BEFORE I started my English classes! ^_^ (and quite frankly, I didn't re-read this chapter before posting it. So, uh, I hope I wrote it well!)

And I do know who the Nomads are, and what their ultimate end-goal is. I kinda have a HUGE arc planned, so I'm hoping there's some interest for this here! As always, chapters will be put into the TDI Original Features archive.

Previously: Lt. Hiro Teal and Gen. George Lutz waited in the trecherous Duma Valley for the Nomad Army. The Nomads, which seemingly appeared out of nowhere, beat every opponet they met. When we left them, the last shot was JUST fired...

Chapter 3

The Nomads had trained their horses for desert combat extremely well. Most breeds can’t even take an afternoon in a normal desert environment, much less the infamous Duma Valley. But these horses could run up dunes with precision and skill. They were much better than any horse Hiro had ever laid eyes on.

There are three main dunes for this battle. There is the center dune, where General Lujz recently went to. Then there is a dune on the left, which was quickly losing to the Nomads. And on the right dune, Hiro Teal was commanding his men.

The left dune was quickly overtaken by the Nomads, and they fought ferociously with the soldiers on top. But when they are up on the dune on their horses, the soldiers on the ground quickly become easy targets. Especially when the Nomads pack not only a shotgun, but a sword as well. They were thick blades, with a curved edge. If encased in a museum, one would say that it was a piece of art, a work of beauty. But when it is blood-soaked, and coming right towards you, the craftsmanship of the sword is the last thing you think of.

General Lujz and his men had minimal success in warding off the Nomads from the top of their dune. Relentless in their firepower, the Nomads kept on pushing. All of them were expert marksmen, people who knew the skill of weilding a gun. More and more Toprikan troops were ordered to the front, to help counter the Nomads.

Meanwhile, at the right dune, Hiro Teal had decided that it was better to spread troops around the dune. He rode around, barking orders at the troops. The Nomads would try to come up the hill from all sides, and were unsuccessful in their attempts to get to the top of the hill. And for whatever reason, the Nomads only circled around the right dune completely, while they approached the left and center dune head-on.

To make things more difficult for Hiro, the Nomads had taken control of the left dune, slaughtering all his men across the valley. And now they were shooting the soldiers over on the right dune. Again, not caring about the center dune. Why was the right dune of such great importance to them, Hiro wondered.

A few Nomads had been killed. But to name how many soldiers had been killed off so quickly in this battle, if you can call it that, would do no justice to the inhumanity that just took place. Over on the left dune, it was a complete slaughter.

With two gunshots, Hiro’s horse collapsed forward, dead on impact. Rushing to his feet, Hiro quickly re-analyzed his battlefield strategy. Except that, in the blink of an eye, the security line broke, and Nomads were rushing up the dune. He glanced over at the center dune, and saw only Nomads, standing in wait. For them, this was merely a diversion. This was a bump in the road, and they were eager to get going again.

Hiro stood in the middle of the dune, and watched as, one by one, all his men got shot. It took less than a minute for it to happen. It was as if the Nomads possessed some unseen power, something that made bullets move away from them, and somehow all of their bullets always hit their target.

Hiro quickly found himself to be the only represenative of the Royal Army of Toprika still standing. He glanced up at the lookout wall, to find Nomads standing, staring at him. Most people at this point would be thinking about how they’re going to be imprisoned, or be killed very quickly and suddenly. Hiro, however, was trying to devise a way to still escape the mercenary army.

The warriors glared at Hiro from their horses. They slowly began to circle around him. There were five horses at first. Then, more joined up to make a second ring. Then, a third, and a fourth. All circling about Hiro, the last man standing. One solider threw his hand into the air, and the others stopped moving. There was little to discern this man from the rest of the army. He wore the same, simple garb as the rest of them. His face was that of a well-aged, well-weathered man. And judging by his face, most people would assume he never once had a happy thought in his life.

“Glad you got our message.” he snickered.

And with that, he mounted back on his horse, and the army rode off, leaving Hiro untouched, unharmed. Confused by the events of the last 20 minutes, Hiro walked around the field, surveying the carnage. It was more than any person should ever have to look at. Severed body parts, faces blown away, and the corpses whose faces are frozen for the rest of time in an expression of sheer terror. All three dunes had a portion that was covered in blood. For miles, there were golden sand hills, the most beautifully terrifying things one could ever hope to set their eyes upon. But there, in the middle of the Duma Valley, sat three red dunes, the sight of yet another slaughter committed by the Nomad Army.