Revolution - C M Raymond & L E Barbant

by Michael Anderle

Laurel grimaced. “You know that feeling when you create and launch about ten ginormous fireballs?”

  “Uh huh,” she responded without looking over.

  “Take that feeling and multiply it by a thousand. This is kind of kicking my ass!”

  Hannah laughed and refocused her energy on coaxing the water into following their command. It was working, but she knew they couldn’t hold it forever. After a few more minutes, Ezekiel’s voice echoed in her mind.

  How’s it going?

  Hannah replied, Can’t really chat right now, Zeke. I don’t know how long the kid can hold this.

  Good. The forest is doing its job. They’re already on the mark. Be ready, he said before she felt him leave her mind.

  “It’s almost time.”

  Laurel spoke through gritted teeth. “Good.”

  Stealing a glance at Laurel, Hannah asked, “I’m helping, right?”

  “See all this water?”

  “Yeah.” Hannah nodded.

  Laurel stole a glance at her for the first time since her hands entered the river. “I imagine you’re holding back at least a gallon of it.”

  Hannah laughed and turned back her task, leaving Laurel to concentrate.

  ****

  Dickerson wasn’t one to allow any other soldier to take his glory, even if he deserved it. The thought of Curt being in command when the tower was overrun was unacceptable to the captain, so he kicked his heels into the horse’s side and trotted into the woods.

  Following the path that had been trampled by their giant army, he rode into the place where the trees had done their damage.

  “Whoa!” he grunted as he pulled back on the reins.

  He kicked his leg over the saddle and dismounted. Although he could ride and fight, Dickerson had always been more comfortable on foot. The way the rebels fought, he figured a captain on horseback would be an easy target. Tying the reins to a tree with a simple overhand knot, he gave her a rub on the neck and proceeded on foot.

  It took some work to scramble through the edges of the downed oaks, and from his vantage point he could see body parts of fallen soldiers. More than once, a faint moan drifted from beneath the thick limbs of the trees. There was no time for rescue, and a broken soldier meant nothing to him at the moment, so he continued forward.

  Passing a few more bodies, these singed by magitech, he hastened to catch the group, cursing Ezekiel, Hannah, and their damned team of radicals as he went. He would make sure they suffered for this impertinence.

  By the time he had caught up to the other men, blaster fire started again. Everyone hit the ground at once, taking refuge behind whatever cover they could find. He grabbed a soldier by the cloak.

  “Sir, we thought we’d lost you,” he said.

  Dickerson narrowed his eyes and faked confidence. “To a group of imbecile slum dwellers and a few noble traitors? Not a bloody chance.” He glanced at the cowering men. “Where the hell is Curt?”

  The man nodded in the direction that Dickerson was heading. The captain nodded back and then glanced at the magitech rifle in his hand. “Lay down some cover fire for me.”

  Sweat glistened on the soldier’s face, and Dickerson realized he wasn’t much more than a boy. War was war, and pawns had their job, no matter how old.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thanks, kid. You’re doing good work here. Real good work. What’s your name?”

  The soldier smiled. “Name’s Avery, sir.”

  “All right, Avery. Cover my ass, and I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you when we get back to the city. Maybe even pay your tab at the Dragon’s Lair.”

  The kid smiled more broadly, proud to be of assistance and excited at the possibility of climbing the ladder in the Capitol Guard.

  “Go!” Dickerson yelled.

  In tandem, the kid popped up and started shooting blue beams of power in the direction of their attackers, and the captain jumped to a crouch and hurried toward the front of the line. A few steps in, he heard the familiar sound of magitech hitting flesh. He risked a look back at the dead body of the soldier whose name he had already forgotten.

  Blasts sailed past his head as he sped toward the head of the group. Finding Curt, he rolled into place next to him behind a rock outcropping.

  “Damn it, Curt, what the hell is going on here?” he shouted over the clamor.

  His second-in-command tilted his head toward the captain. “They pop up every ten minutes or so. We exchange fire, and then they disappear. Not many casualties, but we’re not taking much ground either. More of a pain in my ass than anything.”

  Dickerson glanced the boulders, looking for the source of the fire. He counted ten, maybe fifteen spots in the trees where the shots were coming from.

  “Time to get this under control.” He motioned at the closest group of men with magitech, eight in total. “Men, for the sake of Arcadia, on my mark, I want you to rush those trees. Fire on them as you go. Got it?”

  With fear in their eyes, the men nodded.

  “Now!”

  They leaped from their cover and ran for the trees, squeezing off round after round of power as their legs churned. Shots continued, but only a few landed, dropping half of the soldiers. And then all went silent.

  Dickerson stood. “Off your asses, Arcadians!”

  At his command, the army of loyal soldiers stood, and it was still massive. He could see that Curt’s estimation was right. Some dead, but most of the force remained strong.

  “Almost there, Curt,” he called over his shoulder to his second. He nodded to a break in the trees. Through the gap, they could see the tower standing tall. “Not far now, and we can end this bullshit. Once we’re out of the woods, we will take away their advantage.”

  Curt silently nodded. From what he had seen so far, the captain sorely underestimated the power of Ezekiel’s army. It would have been easy to circle around the forest to find an easier way in, but his commander's pride prevented it. He prayed to the Matriarch and Patriarch that the rebels were already playing their best cards, but everything in him said not to bet on it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After a ten-minute march, Dickerson halted the forces at the edge of what appeared to be an old river bed. Beyond it was a thin stand of trees that opened to the tower’s lawn.

  “Made it,” he said to Curt.

  The man crouched at the edge of the empty bed, pushing his sword into the wet muck. They exchanged glances; both knew something wasn’t right here.

  “Why don’t I let you lead, Curt?” Dickerson said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Sir?”

  “Yeah. We have everything under control, and it’ll be good for you. Hell, we all know you’re going to have my job someday. Let’s get you out in front.” He nodded toward the tower. “Get your ass over there, spread the men out and secure the perimeter. I’ll be right on your heels.”

  Curt nodded, though he had just led the men through miles of rebel-infested forest while the captain cowered in the rear. “Pleased to have the opportunity, sir.”

  He let out a whistle and led the men across the river.

  Dickerson watched them go, his eyes also scanning the woods and the empty riverbed to the northwest. It was wide and thick, and the deep mud made the crossing slow. He goaded the men along as they passed, thanking them for their duty and telling them to get ready to slay some rebel scum. After nearly a quarter of the troops were on the other side, Dickerson stepped into the line and held the rest up for a moment.

  “You have done well, men.” He shouted so that most of the remainder could hear him. “Now we take the tower!” The troops let out a roar. He lifted his hand to quiet them, a smile painted under his perfect mustache. “And remember, leave no one alive.”

  He turned and stepped into the muddy riverbed.

  The men filed in behind him, cursing as they sunk nearly to their knees. Although there was still a war to be waged, all Dickerson could think of was the new boots he had just
paid a big sack of coin for and how they were being destroyed, step by muddy step. But his lament was interrupted by what sounded like thunder.

  Something’s not right here, he thought, just as he looked to his right in time to see a ten-foot wall of water descend on him and his men.

  It crashed into them with the force of a hundred horses, and all went black.

  ****

  Dickerson opened his eyes as the rushing water swept his body to the south. He was tangled up in arms and legs of other soldiers as well as sticks and debris carried by the river. Groping for whatever he could get his hands on, he dragged himself in the direction he could only guess was toward the surface. After what felt like a lifetime of struggling, he finally broke through. The water ran fast, and the choked screams of dozens filled his ears.

  Desperately, Dickerson clawed the water, doing whatever was necessary to make it to the other side. He ignored the cries for help all around him. They were his soldiers, but he was their leader, much more important in the equation of war. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

  With great effort, he barely made it to the river’s edge. He pulled himself out of the water by grabbing fistfuls of muck and roots, then flopped onto the bank, exhausted. A few others had also made it, but most of the men who had been crossing were swept away, never to be heard from again.

  After regaining his breath and composure, Dickerson stood and waved for the soldiers who had been able to pull themselves from the icy waters to follow him. He pushed them hard, marching back upriver. Their bodies needed heat, and he needed revenge.

  After a few hundred yards he rejoined Curt, who was directing the men remaining on the other side to find another way to cross. The river was swollen, and it would be dangerous.

  He turned to his captain. “What the hell was that?”

  Dickerson grinned. “Never seen nature magic, have you? There is a druid among them. Those bastards ain’t much in hand-to-hand combat, but out in the forest they can be a real pain in the ass.”

  Curt’s eyes cut to the river that had just claimed nearly a hundred lives. “Tell me about it.”

  “Enough talk. Let’s finish this once and for all.”

  No sooner had he spoken the words than the magitech blasts started up again.

  “Damn it all to hell!” Curt shouted as the head of the soldier to his right exploded, sending blood and brains all over him.

  The captain and his second-in-command hit the ground.

  “Those sons of bitches!” Dickerson cursed. “I’ve had enough of them. Curt, take a contingent and go after those assholes. Find them. Catch them. And then kill them…very slowly.”

  Curt nodded. “Yes, sir!” He shouted commands to a few hundred men, and they began to walk in the direction of the latest attack. Once again, the rebels went silent as soon as Adrien’s men acted.

  Once they were gone, and with them the magitech fire, Dickerson led the remaining men into the open field, a hundred yards from the tower. He looked around, surveying what remained of the army. They had come in filled with confidence and vigor, but now they looked broken and uncertain, not to mention they were dripping wet in the bitter cold. A stiff wind continued to blow over them, freezing them to the core.

  Dickerson twisted the ends of his mustache and stood up straight, feigning confidence. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the tower and raised his voice. “There it is, the last obstacle to victory. All that stands between us and our commendations is a group of weakling peasants led by a stupid girl.”

  A voice rang in his head as if he were imagining it. Think again, douche nugget!

  The eyes of his men grew wide, and he spun to see a horde of nearly a hundred men, women, and children rushing toward him shrieking as if filled with the Madness. Leading the way was the young woman from the tressen. As she ran, her eyes glowed fire-red. Her left hand held a silver short sword and her right was engulfed in fire. With three more steps, she launched the ball of flames. It hit the ground thirty feet from him, sending two of his men screaming.

  Dickerson pulled his sword with one hand and his magitech rifle with the other. Spreading his feet wide, he grunted. “Shit, shit, attack!”

  ****

  “Cease fire!” Parker yelled as he saw the contingent of Arcadian troops advance to within fifty yards. “Now run!”

  He shouldered his own magitech spear and sprinted through the thick underbrush up a hill into a stand of trees. They had finally managed to pull away a large portion of the army. He hoped it was enough to give Hannah and the rest a fighting chance.

  Dropping to his stomach, he heard his war women follow suit. Breathing deeply, he tried with all he had to slow his pounding heart. It was beating out of his chest, which did nothing for his aim. Truth be told, none of them could really shoot, but a row of people armed with magitech could do some actual damage. More importantly, they were sowing confusion.

  “Fire!” he screamed as he saw the first helmet come into sight.

  Blue streams of magical power flew from their new location, taking out a soldier or two but also keying the advancing horde into their location. Parker stopped firing and glanced at his team. They were all drenched in sweat and breathing heavier than he was. They couldn’t keep this up for long without being overtaken by the more powerful Capitol Guard and whoever else was with them.

  After a few seconds of exchanging fire, the enemy followed their same pattern. Fifty men, maybe more, jumped to their feet and blasted in every direction as they advanced on his team.

  “Run!” he shouted, as he sprang to his feet.

  The ladies followed, sprinting through the trees with their heads down. Krystal was right behind him. There was a scream ten yards behind them. He and Krystal stopped, looking over their shoulders. Glenda, a teen from the Boulevard, had fallen. Parker took a step toward her before Krystal grabbed his arm.

  “Get them the hell out of here,” she yelled in his ear. “I got this.”

  “No,” Parker said, but she was already gone.

  Wide-eyed, he watched Krystal blast her way toward the girl. He held his breath, waving the rest ahead of him. She was right. They needed him to lead if this crazy plan was going to work. But as he looked up, he realized Krystal needed him, too.

  A blast struck her in the arm and she spun in mid-air, hitting the ground with a groan.

  Everything inside of Parker told him to run in the opposite direction, but loyalty and determination trumped self-preservation. Leveling his weapon at the incoming men, he pulled the trigger again and again. By the time he got to his fallen friend, Glenda was on one knee, taking out Arcadian troops as if she were born with a rifle in her hand.

  She dragged Krystal to her feet.

  “Leave me,” she groaned.

  “I’d rather die by your side,” he replied. “And anyway, they don’t listen to me. I need you.”

  Parker ran with Krystal hobbling next to him as Glenda backed away, firing. She was slowing the Arcadian approach, but also painting a clear path to where they were hiding. After a hundred yards, they caught up with the rest of the crew in a clearing at the edge of an open field.

  “This is it.” Parker groaned as he handed Krystal off to two other women. “We live or die right there!” he yelled, pointing to a small stand of trees surrounding a pile of rocks in the middle of the enormous clearing.

  Parker and his ladies ran for the one bit of cover around, dodging old, dry, dead wood on their way. As they all cowered behind the boulders, Parker took inventory. Eight of them remained, which wasn’t so bad since they had taken out dozens of the enemy. He nodded at six of the women. “Just keep firing. We need to let them know we mean business.”

  Nodding, the ladies set up stations around the rocks and blasted the Arcadian troops as they emerged on the strip where the clearing met the woods.

  Parker turned to Krystal. “You better be ok because I can’t haul your ass out of here.”

  The woman smiled thr
ough a wince. “Shut the hell up. I’m working on my weight.”

  Parker laughed and hugged her as his eyes grew teary. “You’ve done great.”

  “Don’t be such a little bitch,” Krystal said. “I’m not giving up this easily.”

  Glenda was by their side. “Parker, go. I’ve got this.”

  He nodded and turned toward his gunners, who were firing across the open field at the troops gathering in the distance.

  “Cease fire,” he ordered.

  They all looked at him in disbelief.

  “Why the hell would we?” one of them asked. “We can’t make it beyond this field,” she nodded behind them. “You’ve led us into a dead end. We might as well take as many down as we can.”

  Parker smiled. “Do you trust me?”

  “More than I should,” she responded.

  “Good, then let them advance.”

  They held their fire, and as they did, the enemy emerged, slowly walking across the field. Parker could see them stepping over the dry, dead wood along the way.

  “Come on,” he muttered under his breath while keeping his eyes trained on the enemy.

  When the soldiers were halfway between them and the woods, Parker aimed the spear Gregory made him toward the sky, squeezed the trigger three times, and held his breath.

  What felt like an eternity passed before he got the response he was hoping for.

  Volley after volley of fireballs flew through the air over their heads, landing in the field all around the enemy. As they hit the ground, bursts of flame danced in every direction. The stubble, brush and wood exploded with a whoosh, spreading the fire quickly around the troops.

  “Thank the Matriarch,” one of the women said.

  “Well,” Parker responded, “you can really start by thanking Amelia and her magicians.”

  The fireballs continued to rain down on the troops. Parker looked over the rocks to see them dancing in pain, half of them trying to extinguish their flaming cloaks. “But let’s not let the magicians have all the fun. Have at it!”

  The women emerged from their hiding place and began shooting the troops close enough to drop.