Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1

by Doug Dandridge

  “The radio has gone out again, Herr Leutnant,” said his battery sergeant, Oberfeldwebel Gustav.

  “Any reason why it shouldn’t work?” he asked the Sergeant, who knew a lot more about the technical aspects of the battery than the officer ever would.

  “Not a thing, sir,” said the NCO. “Gremlins would be the best guess.”

  The Sergeant didn’t smile when he said that, and the officer couldn’t blame him. Who knew what they would see next in this fantasy land. Gremlins would not surprise him.

  “What the hell is that?” called out one of the ammo track crew who was on security.

  Schmidt followed the man’s pointing finger into the sky while he strained his eyes to try and make out the dots that hung there. He brought his glasses up to his eyes and focused them on one of the objects, bringing a broad winged raptor into focus. The bird dipped slightly to the side and the officer swore, seeing what looked like a man riding on its back. Which made it either a very small man, like the fairies of old, or a very big bird. Then the bird dipped again and plummeted from the sky, headed toward the clearing and the four guns that were banging away at their distant targets.

  “Look out,” yelled the officer, himself pointing to the sky where the half dozen dots moved toward the artillery. “Antiaircraft defense. Prepare for antiair defense.”

  Men ran to the guns to get the attention of the crews within them who might not have heard the yelling. Within seconds the guns stopped firing and gun commanders scrambled into the top hatches of the weapons and manned the .50 cal machine guns, a weapon the Germans had recently adopted from the Americans, swinging them up and onto targets. As they fired the smaller 7.62mm guns on the ground opened up as well. The giant hawks dropped lower, until they could be recognized by the naked eye, and the riders on their backs could be seen as well.

  One of the birds intersected a line of heavy machine gun bullets. Feathers flew and the bird bucked in the air. Wings folded up and the bird fell from the sky, faster than the controlled plunges of its fellows. The raptor fell into the trees on one side of the clearing with a crack of wood and bones.

  Something dropped from one of the birds. Something that grew larger by the moment as it fell, becoming a round object that burst into flame just before it near missed one of the guns. Two of the soldiers near the gun were caught in the flames and went up like running torches. Another object fell, this one hitting a gun and sending it up in a column of flame. Arrows came down out of the sky, one of them skewering a soldier while most of the rest just missed, still doing the duty of keeping men’s heads down and ruining their aims.

  Two more of the huge hawks were swept from the sky by machine guns, while another of the flame pots hit a gun and put it out of action, killing the crew members in a horrible burning death. The remaining three hawks wheeled in the sky for a moment before dropping on what had to be another attack run.

  One of the German soldiers had retrieved on his own initiative a weapon that most of them probably would have thought wasted on this world. The soldier aimed the long tube into the sky and pulled one of the triggers set underneath. A smaller tube under the large tube painted the sky with radar, showing the gunner a trio of dots coming toward him. He toggled for the target in the middle, waited for the tube to emit a beep, and pulled the second trigger.

  The Stinger IV missile flew out of the tube with a pop as compressed air ejected it. At five meters up its engine caught, sending the small missile at high mach speed toward the target as its internal radar took over from the launcher’s. The missile sped unerringly toward its target, striking the bird in the chest, and its warhead detonated. The largest chunk of the bird, rider still attached, fell into the woods. Smaller chucks came down in a random pattern.

  The other two riders must have decided that they didn’t want to face whatever it was that had taken out that bird. They climbed for height and wheeled away.

  Schmidt heard the shouts of triumph from his troops as they drove the air threat away. He looked around his small command, his eyes stopping on the two burning guns, half of his firepower, and the couple of bodies on the ground. He didn’t feel too triumphant after seeing that, especially as he knew there would be no replacements coming at any time in the near future.

  * * *

  “Hit them in the center,” yelled Levine as he turned the run into a sprint, his ninety centimeter long blade swishing out of its sheath.

  Kurt thought for a moment on the sanity of this action, two men hitting the center of a mass of rushing enemy that numbered just over a thousand. And that wasn’t counting the shambling monstrosities that were the newly risen dead mingling with their numbers. But he also knew that if he couldn’t turn the tide and rally the troops they were likely to be overrun, and after them all of the civilians were at risk.

  The big German reached his right hand over his shoulder and grasped the hilt of the big Zwiehander that was sheathed across his back. The blade swished from its sheath and he brought it forward, bringing his left hand up to grab the leather wrapped hilt. He then angled over on his run toward a large mass of enemies and increased his speed to his maximum.

  Over one hundred forty combined kilos of German and armor hit at fifty kilometers an hour into a knot of the Orcs. A couple of them, those being hit head on, went flying back through the air to land ten meters away on their backs. Four or five more fell away to either side onto their posteriors, while another half dozen staggered back and to the side. There was shock on the faces of all of them, and those others nearest the impact looked over in surprise, as if not sure what to do.

  Hearing a shout Kurt looked over to the right where his friend had hit the enemy line. He had knocked down some of the creatures as well, and his sword rose and fell, splattering blood into the air as he took the head off of an enemy. Another swung a blade that the Jew took on his shield. That shield then came forward into the ugly attacker, who flew fifteen meters through the air to hit the ground, unmoving.

  Something hit Kurt on the chest, pulling his attention away from his friend and back to the work at hand. He looked back in time to see the large mace coming in again, while the tusked face of a snarling creature looked up at him. With a quick move the German blocked the hit with the blade of his two hander. He shoved back and felt the creature lose its footing and go down. He swung the blade over and caught an ax by the haft, then slid the edge down the ax to take off the fingers of the wielder. That creature opened its mouth to scream, but his sword, coming back over his head and around, beat it to it and took off the head of the monster before air could clear throat.

  Kurt widened his stance and brought his sword around in a two handed grip, from right to left. The blade sheared through the midsection of an attacking creature, the upper body falling to the side while the legs stumbled forward. The German kicked at the legs, sending them back, while he swirled the sword again, this time left to right, and cut through another creature. A spear thrust caught his shoulder, the point sliding off his hard armor. Two quick chops took the head from the spear, then the hands from the wielder. The creature fell back, screaming its agony as it held its spurting stumps close to its body.

  Swing and chop, swing and chop. The German got into a rhythm as he tirelessly swung the two handed sword. Blades crashed against his impenetrable armor. Arrows hit and bounced into the air. A pair of glowing arrows came in and hit his chest and the German flinched for a moment, wondering what the magic projectiles would do. They did no better than the other arrows, bouncing away, and he thanked whatever Gods were involved that he had invested in the strong armor.

  Bodies started to pile up around the German. He glanced over at where his friend had been and saw a whirling dervish of a warrior, spinning and striking as he constantly moved, piling up bodies. Kurt’s breath caught in his throat as he watched a spear sink into his friend's forearm behind the arm guard. Blood spurted, then stopped spurting, and his friend killed the spearman and continued on as if he were unhurt.

/>   [We heal fast, my friend,] sent the Jewish warrior to Kurt’s mind. [But it still hurts like a bitch.]

  Kurt nodded as he swung his blade around and blocked a thrust, then thrust in to disembowel his opponent. He noticed that the enemy were not quite as thick as they had been, as the lesser members of the attacking force angled around him to attack the Germans. The braver continued to die at his feet.

  Something made him look up for a second, a feeling that someone was giving him some dangerous attention. He caught sight of one of the elvish warriors, the one in the most ornate armor and robes, looking at him and gesturing. He wondered at what was about to happen, and steeled himself for it. But he wasn’t ready for the lightning bolt that came at him out of a cloudless sky.

  * * *

  The Archduke stared at the largest of the humans who had come out of nowhere to attack his Grogatha minions. Big son of a whore, he thought. The men wore armor of styles he had never before seen. They seemed to be as strong as the enormous Gilli’groth, and were overpowering the Grogatha warriors, who were no physical weaklings themselves.

  He watched as two of the enchanted armor piercers hit the big one in the chest, and bounced off without leaving a scratch. And they’re damned quick as well, he thought, watching as the big one blocked, dodged and struck almost faster than the eye could follow. He thought these two in the long run might even be more dangerous than the big war machines.

  The Archduke attempted to get a look at the largest stranger with his magic sight. He swore as the blurry image formed. The creature had the aura of a soul, a very strong and long lived soul if the binding energy was to be believed. A longer life span than an Ellala, and his people were the longest lived on the planet, until now. And the flavor of the energy was distinctly different than anything he had ever seen. Shielded in some way. Would they be harmed by magic? he thought, wondering what spell to throw. Only one way to find out. He mumbled the words, reached his hands to the sky, and pulled down the power of the sky Gods.

  * * *

  “We going to join the retreat?” asked the gunner in confusion, leaning out of his hatch as Sturgil climbed out of the turret of the tank.

  “I don’t think so,” said the officer. “Start taking that wood line under fire with the main gun. Especially focus on those Elf bastards under there, if you see anything.”

  His feet landed on the ground, crunching some of the glassed dirt that the lightning bolt had left behind. He had found that the tank was grounded well enough to shrug off the bolt that had hit them, unlike the fireballs that had killed the other tanks. He turned his attention to the German soldiers that were running toward him, jacking a round into the chamber of his automatic rifle.

  “Halt,” he yelled, putting a hand up in the air. “No farther. Are you soldiers of the Fatherland or not.”

  The men stopped in their tracks, most of them, some looking nervously over their shoulders, as the Leutnant strode toward them. There were some officers among them, but they looked as confused and frightened as the men.

  “Are those two strangers to stand alone against this foe?” asked Sturgil, gesturing to the two large men who were piling bodies up around them. The ugly creatures were still coming forward, some ignoring the two humans while others looped around to try to take them from the back. The second tactic didn’t work all that well, as the two armored humans were too fast and too well protected to fall from a cowardly thrust.

  Men murmured to themselves, clearly gaining some courage from the sight of the fight. A half dozen of the APCs slowed as well, turning their turrets back over their rears and sending rounds into the ranks of the attacking monsters. And Sturgil’s tank sent a swift round into the woods, showing that it was not out of the fight.

  A bright flash caught the officer’s eye and he turned in time to see a flaring bolt of energy come out of the sky and hit the large man in the Gothic armor. The searing white bolt arced out around the man, throwing the ugly creatures who had been engaged with him to the ground. The man stumbled for just a moment, looked around, and jumped at the nearest group of standing monsters, his sword shearing through the shoulder of one.

  “He wasn’t even hurt,” said Sturgil under his breath. “He wasn’t even hurt,” he yelled to the men gathered around him, feeling a sense of awe overcome him. “He has God on his side. Can we do less than fight on his side for our people.”

  The hundred soldiers roared their approval and gathered around him in a mass. Even the two Hauptmans gave him their approval for command, gathering to the side and letting him have the center of the line.

  “Forward,” yelled Sturgil, bringing his hand overhead. “Forward. Let’s show them how men of the Fatherland fight.”

  The troops moved forward in a widening formation, opening up the distance, as they fired from shoulder or hip on the walk.

  * * *

  Kurt felt a moment of disorientation as the lightning bolt struck. He had spots before his eyes from the brightness. But the jolt seemed to do nothing to him except pass gently through his body. What it did to those he had engaged in combat was something else entirely. Five of the creatures lay dead and smoking on the ground they had been flung down onto. Another dozen crawled on hands and knees, or lay on their backs and jerked like spastics.

  The German leapt through the air as he glanced at the woods where the Elf Lord was scowling at him. He landed seven meters away, in the midst of a group of approaching zombies who were shuffling toward him with blank eyes and reaching weapons. His sword swirled in a blur, taking arms and heads, cutting through waists, and basically chopping the monstrosities to bits that writhed on the ground and were no longer a danger to the living.

  He heard the chatter of automatic weapons through the roaring and screaming of the Orcs. They were going down by the dozens. Spinning around to look back he was amazed to see a hundred soldiers in field gray come running toward him, firing rifles and machine-guns on the move, roaring at the tops of their lungs. None of the monsters wore the kind of armor the Elves had worn, and regular bullets slaughtered them.

  He watched for a moment, resting his brain and his arm as a group of Germans ran into some of the zombies who had refused to go down under weapons fire. Bayonets and entrenching tools slashed, taking the monsters down in hand to hand combat that tore them apart. He saw one soldier attack an Orc with a well-aimed rifle butt, taking the helmet off of the creature, then cracking its skull with the next slam. A soldier swung an entrenching tool at an Orc after the creature knocked the rifle from the soldier’s hand. The Orc grappled with the tool while trying to bring his sword into a thrust. The German soldier countered by pulling his pistol from its holster and thrusting the barrel into the throat of the Orc, blasting a hole in its neck that killed the creature instantly.

  [It’s like being back on the Russian front,] he thought to Levine as he started cutting with his sword into the Orcs in large swings. [They fight with a passion to not let us down.]

  [I’ll take it whatever the source,] thought the Jew back at him.

  Again Kurt marveled at the dichotomy of his people. They were artists, musicians, scientists and builders. And they were still the savage race that had destroyed the Legions of Rome when those forces had penetrated their forests in the third and fourth centuries. Now they needed to be that savage race again, and they rose to the challenge. Did they ever rise to it.

  The German continued to fight and strike at the Orcs, as he thought of them. A few minutes into the fray and the German soldiers had killed most of them. They were not allowing the undead that were still rising to do much harm either. One enterprising private found a method of disposing of them that caught the fancy of the other troops. It was noted that the dead would begin to twitch and an eerie moaning sound would emanate from their mouths. Soldiers would run over and place a grenade on their necks, pull the pin, and run. The grenade would take off the head of the new zombie, along with maybe part of the upper body, rendering the monster permanently dead and gone.
The majority of the Germans tended to their own wounded, of which there were many.

  Kurt stood for a moment resting as the Germans mopped up the Orcs, wondering what they would do when they ran out of ammunition. Seeing a few of the soldiers take the best of the axes and swords they could find, and finding ways to attach sheaths to their bodies, he stopped worrying about that problem. They would find a way to arm themselves with the best available, much as they had in the great war, back on the Russian front.

  * * *

  The Archduke swore under his breath as he rode back toward his castle on a path beneath the trees. These strangers came with multiple levels of surprises. Their war machines were fearsome enough to be magical in their own right, though the strangers lacked real magic. Their troops were as disciplined as the best the Empire had. And they fought with the same savagery as the Grogatha foot soldiers that he had sent against them. And some seemed to be immune to magic. He didn’t know if some had a universal immunity of the same type, or whether there were multiple immunities at work here. The big long lived one had shrugged off offensive magic, while some of the shorter lived normal humans had rejected the possession of their souls after death.

  They are truly formidable, he thought, playing back the images of their handing his force a total defeat. Formidable enough? Only time would tell. But he was certain he would have to find out what it was that made some of them resistant to the common magics of the Empire.

  He didn’t know what it was, but it was something he needed to puzzle out. The Emperor would want to know. Which meant the Emperor would want him, as the highest ranking noble on the spot, to find out. Or it might be his soul that would be possessed, for the crime of failing his ruler.

  * * *