The colour of the armband - Echoes

I.

Hod yawned and looked at his shadow on the sand; he felt that even his shade was sweating under the heat of the two suns. The relentless suns that beat down on the dunes of the long desert, baking the sand into a shimmering golden sea. Here, amidst the vast expanse of shifting sands, the wind danced with sighs of ancient sagas, carrying whispers of a tribe shrouded in mystery. 

 

They were the Echoes, a tribe etched by the unforgiving landscape, their skin the colour of sun-baked clay and their eyes reflecting the steely glint of the planet’s crimson sky and Hod was one of them.

To the rest of the tribes, the Echoes were little more than a primitive and backward people, relegated to the fringes of civilization. Tales of their ‘barbaric’ customs and perceived lack of intellect had spread like wildfire, branding them as savages unworthy of interaction. Yet, beneath the surface of these harsh judgments lay a truth few dared to acknowledge, a truth that soon would challenge the very foundations of what it meant to be civilized in this deserted planet.

At the heart of Echoes society lay a deep reverence for the land that sustained them, a mystic connection passed down through generations. For centuries, they had roamed the desert in search of sustenance, drawing upon the wisdom of their ancestors and the shifting sands to survive in an unforgiving landscape.

But it was not just their intimate knowledge of the desert that set the Echoes apart; it was their ability to harness the power of the elements themselves. While other tribes clung to relics of past wars, relics often with expired dates and no future, the Echoes possessed a deeper understanding of the natural world, a knowledge that bordered on the supernatural.

Their movements always dictated by the whisper of the wind and the subtle shifts in sand patterns. They could predict sandstorms with uncanny accuracy, reading the subtle changes in air pressure and the behaviour of desert creatures. Even the Elephines, the monstrous carnivores of the dunes, held no mystery to them. They moved with a grace that belied their rugged appearance, their steps guided by ancient wisdom.

But amidst their reverence for the land, there was also a sense of isolation, a feeling that they were outsiders in a world that had long since turned its back on them. They lived in isolation and secrecy, their customs and ways incomprehensible to those who dwelled in the dune-towns of the armband tribes.

And yet, despite the disdain with which they were often regarded, the Echoes harboured a secret that few outsiders could fathom. It was a secret whispered in hushed tones around campfires, passed down from elder to child like a sacred rite of passage—a secret that spoke to the very essence of their existence.

Deep within the heart of the desert, hidden beneath layers of shifting sands, lay the source of their power, a network of ancient ruins, remnants of a civilization long forgotten. These ruins held secrets beyond imagining, relics of a time when the desert teemed with life and the echoes of laughter rang out across the sands.

For decades, the Echoes had guarded these ruins with a fierce devotion, protecting them from outsiders who sought to plunder their treasures or exploit their power. They believed that within the crumbling walls lay the key to unlocking the true potential of the desert, a power that could reshape the very fabric of their world. Even their name Echoes was an echo of their purpose,  to preserve the secrets of the past and ensure they weren't misused.

But the Echoes' sanctuary wasn't absolute. Whispers of the lost city, fuelled by stolen artefacts and embellished tales, had reached the ears of those beyond the desert's reach. In opulent, marbled cities, far removed from the unforgiving sands, greed and ambition took root. Men, consumed by a lust for power and unimaginable wealth, sought to claim the ruins. They were the Hunters, a loose network of individuals united by a singular goal: to exploit the secrets of the lost civilization.

The desert was an ally but the tribes weren’t. And so, amidst the shifting sands and swirling winds, a silent hunt raged, a hunt for the lost tribe.

Hod knew nothing of this, he was there observing through his newly found in the ruins binoculars, the red horizon. His sift his guard.

II.

Amidst the shimmering sands, Hod stood up and took a deep breath of hot air, his eyes scanning the horizon with a mixture of determination and apprehension. The young Echo looked restless and alertness, full of the energy of the youth, his skin bronzed by the unforgiving sun and his hair streaked with sand.

As he gazed out across the vast expanse of desert, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. Whispers had begun to circulate among his people—whispers of strangers lurking on the outskirts of their territory. No clear armbands but definitely from the armband tribes. With a determined set to his jaw, Hod turned and began to make his way back to the heart of the Echoes' latest camp.

As he walked, the wind whispered secrets in his ear, carrying echoes of a time long past. He listened intently, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he sensed the presence of something ancient and powerful stirring beneath the sands.

“What’s the matter?” Hod heard the voice of his friend Ari reaching him from the side.
“We must do something, I cannot see them but I can feel them. They are close.” Hod snapped without stop walking and making Ari look behind him.
“Where?”
“I’m telling you, they are here.”
“So? What you going to do?”
“Talk to the elders.” Ari stopped and forced him to stop by grabbing his arm.

“You can’t be serious,” he said. “You are ...you are young. You can’t call the elders. You have to talk to ...I don’t know ...Knut. That’s right, Knut!” Ari stopped stunned with his friend’s passionate response.

“Sorry man, didn’t intent to insult or something but you know that there is a ...chain of command in the tribe and if you have something to say you say it first to Knut...”
“I know,” Hob said. “Don’t you think that I haven’t tried? You know me better, Ari.” And Ari nodded and did the next clever thing he could do, he accompanied him.

The two friends returned to their march towards the camp. The journey back to the camp was fraught with tension, each step heavier than the last as Hod contemplated the gravity of the situation. He knew that he must approach the elders with caution, for they were the keepers of tradition, and any deviation from the established ways would be met with resistance. Ari kept quiet, walking next t his friend.

As they entered the bustling centre of the encampment, Hod's eyes swept over the familiar faces of his fellow Echoes, noting the furrowed brows and whispered conversations that filled the air. It was clear that news of the possible sights of strangers had spread, igniting a spark of fear and uncertainty among the community.

A couple of them looked at them and somehow felt what was Hod planning to do and a few whispers a small crowd started following them towards the centre of the camp.

Pushing aside his own doubts, Hod made his way toward the elders' tent, his heart pounding in his chest with each passing moment. He knew that he had to do it and despite his confidence he wasn’t sure how he was going to say it; still he was here and he was going to talk.

Entering the dimly lit tent, Hod found himself face to face with the council of elders, their expressions grave as they regarded him with solemn eyes.

III.

Without preamble, he launched into his tale, recounting the whispers he had heard on the wind, the shadowy figures that lurked beyond the boundaries of their land. Hob short of stormed in without noticing that nobody had tried to stop him. As they were waiting for him.

Ari was coming just after hob and entering the tent he stopped suddenly in the view of the silent guards in both sides. They looked gigantic in every since and even though Ari was sure that he had seen them before in the camp without their armour, the view of them full armoured, ray in hands and ready for a fight somehow scared him.

“Oh man,” escaped from his mouth and he felt that that moment he was talking for both of them, Hob and himself.  Actually and for the first time the last hour, Hob started having doubts.

“Speak out, boy.” The voice came from the darkest and furthest part of the tent where the only thing you could see was two bright red eyes.

And Hob spoke. At first, the elders listened in silence, their faces betraying no hint of emotion. But as Hod spoke of the growing sense of unease that gripped the desert, he saw a flicker of concern pass through their eyes, a recognition of the gravity of the situation.

When he had finished, there was a long moment of silence, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as the elders conferred amongst themselves in hushed tones. Finally, the eldest among them spoke, the one in the far end of the tent, his voice heavy with age and wisdom. "It seems that the time has come for us to take action," he said, his words carrying the weight of authority. "We cannot ignore the signs any longer and somehow Hod here was the last of the voices we have heard lately. The strangers pose a threat to everything we hold dear, and it is up to us to defend our land and everything we think sacred."

With a sense of relief flooding through him, Hod nodded in agreement even though nobody seemd to notice him anymore. And that was it, they began to formulate a plan, drawing upon the knowledge and skills that had been passed down through generations the very same moment like they were prepared for ii for decades.

Ari was in awe, things were happening to fast for him while Hob was all energy with what he was witnessing. But soon after with a nod from one of the elders the guards led Hod and nearly dragged Ari, outside the tent.

As Hod stepped out into the cooling desert night, he was greeted by a chorus of chirping insects and the soft rustle of wind-blown sand. The camp lay sprawled before him, a collection of tents and makeshift shelters illuminated by the flickering light of campfires. Amidst the bustle of activity, Hod sought out his closest confidants—his fellow Echoes who shared his concerns and his resolve.

Together, they gathered in a secluded corner of the camp, their voices hushed as they discussed their next course of action. It was clear that the threat of the strangers loomed large in their minds, casting a shadow of fear over their once tranquil existence. But Hod refused to be paralyzed by uncertainty. He knew that they must act decisively if they were to protect their home and their way of life.

Drawing upon the knowledge imparted to him by the elders, Hod began to outline a plan—a plan to fortify their defences, to gather intelligence on the strangers' movements, and to prepare for whatever challenges lay ahead. It would require courage and sacrifice, but Hod was undeterred. For he knew that the Echoes were a resilient people, bound together by a shared sense of purpose and a deep reverence for the desert that had shaped their lives for generations.

As the night wore on, Hod and his companions set to work, their hands moving with purpose as they erected barricades and sharpened weapons. With each swing of the hammer and each stroke of the blade, they reaffirmed their commitment to one another and to the land that had sustained them for so long.

And as the first light of dawn began to creep across the horizon, casting a golden glow over the desert landscape, Hod knew that they were ready. Ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, ready to defend their home with every ounce of strength and determination they possessed.

And something nobody said but all knew, they always had a ...secret weapon.

IV.

As the days stretched on, a heavy tension settled over the encampment like a suffocating blanket, weighing down the spirits of all who dwelled within its confines. The only one seemingly immune to the palpable unease was Hod, his resolve unwavering despite the mounting uncertainty that surrounded them.

Knut, the stoic military leader of the tribe, had remained ominously silent throughout this time, his usual air of authority tempered by an unusual reticence. He followed the directives of the elders with a quiet determination, his actions speaking louder than any words he might have uttered. Hod, too, found himself lost in thought, his mind consumed by the weight of responsibility that now rested upon his shoulders.

Despite the lingering sense of foreboding, the construction of the barracks proceeded apace, a tangible symbol of their determination to defend their home against whatever threat loomed on the horizon. The sandstone walls rose steadily from the desert floor, their sturdy form a testament to the resilience of the people who had built them.

With each passing day, the feeling of safety within the encampment gradually returned, bolstered by the knowledge that they now had a fortified stronghold from which to make their stand. The ruins that lay behind them would now serve as their final bastion against the encroaching darkness that threatened to engulf them, providing protection for the weakest and the elders of the tribe.

But despite their newfound sense of security, the spectre of impending danger continued to haunt their every waking moment. The dunes whispered secrets of unseen foes lurking just beyond the horizon, their presence felt but never seen. It was in this atmosphere of heightened vigilance that they received their first visitor, a lone Elephine, its massive form silhouetted against the backdrop of shifting sands.

The creature regarded them with a cold, unyielding gaze before disappearing into the vast expanse of the desert, leaving behind a lingering sense of disquiet in its wake. Hod watched its departure with a furrowed brow, his mind racing with unanswered questions. Was this solitary visitor a harbinger of the storm that loomed on the horizon, or merely a passing curiosity in the vast tapestry of the desert?

As more days followed, the tension within the encampment reached a fever pitch, each passing moment fraught with anticipation of the unknown. Ari, ever the voice of reason among his peers, voiced the concerns that gnawed at the edges of their collective consciousness.

"Are you sure they are coming, Hod?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Hod hesitated, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if searching for answers in the shifting sands below.

"Better to be ready whenever they come," he replied at last, his tone betraying a nervous edge that belied his outward confidence. With a nod of understanding, Ari fell silent, his thoughts turning inward as he prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation that lay ahead.

And then, just as the first rays of dawn began to streak across the desert sky, the unmistakable sound of the alert echoed through the encampment, a clarion call to arms that shattered the stillness of the morning air.

"They're here," Ari whispered to his friend, his voice barely above a breath as he braced himself for the battle that awaited them. And as the sun rose slowly above the horizon, casting its golden light upon the sands below, the fate of the encampment hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of uncertainty as they prepared to face their enemies head-on.

A collective gasp rippled through the gathered people. The enemy, had finally arrived. The whispers that had plagued their nights for weeks, the fleeting glimpses of dust devils dancing in the distance – they were all terrifyingly real now.

Hod scanned the faces around him. Fear flickered in some eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a fierce defiance. This was their home, their ancestral land. Here, generations of their tribe had lived, hunted, and raised their families. The thought of surrendering it to invaders was unthinkable.

As the minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity, the first tendrils of movement appeared on the horizon. A dark mass, initially mistaken for a trick of the early morning light, began to solidify. Soon, it was clear, the enemy was here, upon them.

V.

The desert suns beat down mercilessly, casting harsh shadows across the sand dunes as the skirmish between the Echoes and the armbands intensified. Rays of energy sliced through the air, accompanied by the deafening explosions of ray grenades. Ari and Hod huddled behind a rocky outcrop, their breaths shallow as they exchanged worried glances.

"They aren't many," Hod muttered, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle.

Ari nodded grimly, his gaze fixed on the distant figures of their enemies. Despite their smaller numbers, the armbands were well-armed and organized, their tactics ruthless and efficient. The loss of Bohd, a familiar face from their own ranks, weighed heavily on Ari's heart, a stark reminder of the stakes of their struggle.

"We need to hold our ground," Ari said, his voice firm despite the tremor of fear that coursed through him. "We can't let them push us back."

Hod nodded in agreement, his jaw set with determination. Together, they braced themselves for another onslaught of enemy fire, their minds racing with thoughts of strategy and survival.

As the battle raged on, Ari's senses sharpened, his focus honed on the shifting dynamics of the battlefield. He watched as Hod darted from cover to cover, his movements swift and purposeful, a testament to years of training and instinct. Despite the odds stacked against them, Ari felt a flicker of hope ignite within him, a determination to stand tall in the face of adversity.

Then, a sudden realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

"They're not attacking from all sides," Ari exclaimed, his voice rising above the din of battle. "It's only four of them."

Hod's eyes widened in understanding as he surveyed their surroundings, his mind racing to piece together the puzzle before them.

"They're trying to divide our attention," Hod said, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and admiration for their adversaries' cunning tactics. "We need to focus our firepower on those four hills." Hod shouted at Knut. The general nodded and gave his orders to the rest of his men.

With renewed resolve, Ari and Hod coordinated their efforts with the rest of the Echoes. The air crackled with energy as rays of light streaked across the desert landscape, the Echoes fighting tooth and nail to hold their ground against the relentless assault.

But nothing seemed to change the balance, the armbands had the rays and the Echoes ...well they had some rays and mostly courage but nothing more else. Ari gritted his teeth in frustration, his heart heavy with the weight of their seemingly impossible task.

"We can't keep this up forever," Ari muttered, his voice tinged with a sense of desperation.

Hod glanced at him, his expression unreadable behind the visor of his helmet.

"We don't have to," Hod said, his tone filled with quiet determination. "We just need to buy ourselves enough time. I have a plan"

Time. The word echoed in Ari's mind like a distant promise, a fleeting glimpse of hope amidst the chaos of battle. With a renewed sense of purpose, he rallied his comrades, urging them to stand firm against the tide of enemy forces.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the desert sands, Ari felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins. Despite the odds stacked against them, despite the overwhelming might of their adversaries, they refused to yield.

For they were the Echoes, forged in the crucible of hardship and strife, bound together by a common cause and an unbreakable spirit. And as long as they stood united, they knew that they could weather any storm, overcome any obstacle, and emerge victorious against all odds.

As the battle raged on into the night, Ari saw Hod nodding to him and then disappearing behind a dune. Time for the secret weapon.

VI.

Hod crawled over the dunes, under the armbands’ ray bombardment and away from the Echoes camp. The roasting heat of the desert suns beating down upon him, reflecting off the golden sands in waves of oppressive heat. Sweat trickles down his brow, mixing with the fine grains of sand that cling to his skin.

He moved slowly and carefully, every muscle in his body tense with the effort of remaining silent and unseen. The sharp, acrid smell of burnt ozone fills the air from the ray bombardment, mingling with the more familiar scents of sweat and fear.

The Echoes camp, now a chaotic battleground, was behind him. The screams of his tribe mingling with the mechanical whirr and hum of the armbands’ weaponry, a constant reminder of the danger. His heart pounding in his chest, a relentless drumbeat urging him to move faster, to escape the carnage. Yet he knows that haste could spell his doom. He needs to put as much distance as possible between himself and the camp, but he could not risk being detected. Each inch he gained felt like a mile, and he could only hope that his careful pace will keep him safe.

He looked behind and he short of felt Ari’s eyes following him even though he was in a distance Ari could see him.

When Hod finally reached a distance where he is sure nobody can hear him, he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. He pressed his face into the sand, inhaling deeply and letting the granules fill his mouth and nose. It grounded him, brought him back to the reality of his situation. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he made a sound with his lips, a sound that reminds one of a whistle combined with the hissing of a reptile. It is a call; a signal that he hopes will not go unanswered.

The seconds stretch into minutes, and Hod waits in agony. He listens to the distant echoes of battle, the fight between the armbands and his tribe turning increasingly dire. More and more of his people are falling, their cries of pain and despair reaching his ears like ghostly wails carried on the wind. His thoughts are a tumultuous whirlpool of guilt and desperation. He left them to seek help, but what if none comes? What if his tribe is annihilated while he lies here in the sand, waiting for a miracle that will never arrive?

Just as the weight of these thoughts threatens to overwhelm him, a gigantic shadow looms over the dunes. Hod's breathe catches in his throat as he looks up to see three huge eyes staring down at him. The creature before him is a monstrous carnivore Elephine, perhaps the biggest he has ever seen. Its massive form blocks out the sun, casting a fearful shade over him. The Elephine's eyes are intelligent and inquisitive, its presence both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Slowly and carefully, Hod begins to communicate with the creature. He uses a mixture of words, sounds, and whistles, the language of his tribe that has been passed down through generations. His voice trembles as he tells the Elephine what is happening, his plea for help imbued with all the urgency and desperation he feels. The Elephine listens, its great head cocked to one side, as if considering his words. It makes a strange, rumbling sound deep in its throat, a sound that Hod interprets as understanding.

The Elephine disappears into the dunes as suddenly as it appeared, its massive form blending seamlessly with the undulating landscape. Hod watches it go, his heart filled with a cautious hope. He knows that the Elephine’s intervention could turn the tide of the battle. The creature's sheer size and strength would be a formidable force against the armbands, and its presence might just be enough to save his tribe.

With renewed strength, Hod pushes himself to his feet. His body aches from the effort of crawling, but he forces himself to keep moving. He needs to find a vantage point, somewhere he can observe the battle without being seen and if necessary make the call again. He scrambles up a nearby dune, the loose sand making his ascent slow and arduous. As he reaches the top, he drops to his belly and peers over the edge.

The scene below is one of chaos and destruction. The Echoes camp is a smouldering ruin, with bodies strewn across the ground. The armbands, relentless in their assault, are advancing steadily, their metallic shields gleaming in the harsh sunlight. Hod's heart sinks as he sees how outmatched his tribe is. The Echoes are brave and skilled fighters, but they are no match for the armbands’ superior technology and firepower.

Suddenly, a loud, trumpeting roar echoes across the desert. Hod's eyes widen as he sees the Elephine charging towards the battlefield, its massive feet kicking up clouds of sand with each thunderous step. The armbands pause, their attention drawn to the approaching behemoth. The Echoes, too, look up in shock and awe, their faces a mix of fear and hope.

VII.

The Elephine crashes into the armbands with the force of a natural disaster. Its tusks, sharp and deadly, tear them, sending pieces of metal and circuitry flying. The armbands attempt to regroup and mount a counterattack, but they are no match for the Elephine's raw power. The creature’s thick hide is impervious to their weapons, and it swats them aside like they are mere insects.

The worse part for them is that the Elephine doesn’t let them hide. The monster finds them wherever they are covered and its huge tusks take care for the rest. One after the other the armbands leave their positions and arms and start running towards their desert vehicles.

Hod watches in amazement as the tide of battle shifts. The Echoes, emboldened by the Elephine's intervention, rally and press the attack. They move with renewed vigour, their war cries filling the air. The armbands, disoriented and overwhelmed, begin to falter. One by one, they fall, their mechanical bodies crushed beneath the Elephine's mighty feet.

As the last of the armbands is dispatched, a stunned silence falls over the battlefield. The Echoes stand, panting and bloodied, their eyes fixed on the Elephine. The creature lets out another roar, this one triumphant, before turning and lumbering back into the dunes. It leaves behind a scene of devastation, but also one of victory.

Hod lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He slides down the dune and makes his way to his tribe and Ari who seen him had started screaming while waving both arms.

The Echoes begin to tend to their wounded and gather their fallen. The cost of the battle is high, but they have survived, thanks to Hod’s bravery and the Elephine’s intervention. As the sun sets over the desert, casting long shadows across the dunes, the tribe gathers to mourn their dead and celebrate their victory.

Hod stands at the edge of the camp, looking out over the sands. The Elephine's intervention was a miracle, but he knows that their fight is far from over. The armbands will return, and they will need to be ready. But for now, they have a moment of peace, and for that, he is grateful.

As the stars begin to twinkle in the night sky, Hod makes his way to the centre of the camp, where a fire has been lit. The Echoes gather around, their faces lit by the flickering flames. They begin to sing, a mournful yet hopeful melody that echoes across the desert. Hod joins in, his voice blending with those of his tribe. The song is a promise—a vow that they will continue to fight, no matter the odds, and that they will protect their home and each other.

The night is long, but it is also filled with a sense of unity. Hod knows that the road ahead will be difficult, and this was only a wave with more to come, but he also knows that they are not alone. The Elephine’s roar still echoes in his mind, a reminder of the strength and power that lies within the desert. And as long as they have that, they will endure.

The next morning, the Echoes set to work fortifying their camp and tending to their wounded. Hod joins them, his body still aching from the previous day’s exertions but his spirit buoyed by the knowledge that they have survived. He works tirelessly, determined to do his part in preparing for the battles to come.

As the days turn into weeks, the Echoes rebuild and strengthen their defences. They train tirelessly, honing their skills and preparing for the inevitable return of the armbands. Hod and Ari among the rest.

One evening, as the sun sets over the dunes, casting the desert in a golden glow, Hod stands at the edge of the camp and looks out over the sands. He thinks of the Elephine, of its massive form and the power it wielded. He knows that their fight is far from over, but he also knows that their ally will never let them down, and with this thought his walking down the sand hill that overlooks the old ruins and the female status in the far with a torch in her extended hand. ‘Ms Liberty’ his father had called her.

 

THE END