The assault platoon left cover as the fourth salvo of mortars went off in the castle courtyard. Forty German mountain soldiers, they were bunched closer than doctrine dictated, but there wasn’t all that much room on the narrow causeway. They made good progress until the arrows started falling among them from the high towers of the keep. Suddenly there were five soldiers down, unmoving in pools of blood, while four more tried crawling away. Their fellows grabbed the arms of all the downed soldiers and dragged them away. Three more were hit before they reached the cover of the rocks on the far side of the causeway.
The machine-guns had opened fire as soon as the first arrows came down. Bullets flashed along the hard stone walls of the keep and along the top of the outer works. These were followed by more mortars, slamming with heavy sounds into the castle. A rocket streaked out of the side of the opposite mountain and slammed into the castle gate, blasting a large hole in the center. This was followed by two more rockets, until the gate hung loosely on its hinges.
“What was that?” asked the Dwarf, his face a mask of surprise.
“Carl Gustav,” said the Master Sergeant. “Wire guided missiles made to kill tanks, that would be like a mobile wagon fort, with one hit.”
“Impressive,” said the Dwarf while fire continued to rain down on the castle. The cracks of explosions echoed across the mountains, and Baurieth looked up to catch the second part of the show.
That part started quickly as well run military operations do. A dozen men flung themselves from the cliffs above the castle, their chutes blossoming as soon as they cleared the rock. Another dozen followed behind them, while more men rappelled down the side of the cliff. At the same time the men on the causeway came on, filing across the bridge and toward the gate. Some Elves on the walls and the keep towers rose up to pull back on their bows. Most were felled by Barretts or machine-guns before they could complete the motions. A few arrows got into the air, and one paratrooper jerked in his harness from what had to be a hit.
And then the men in the air were firing down into the keep and the ground force had breached the gate. And that was all she wrote for the outer courtyard.
“Who the hell is that?” asked Baurieth, pointing to the keep tower, where an Elf in golden armor had appeared. The man screamed to the sky as he raised his arms, then pointed down into the courtyard. A whirlwind sprung up in the courtyard, and the yelling of the troops could be heard over the freight train sound.
“That would be the Baron,” said the Dwarf. “And this is where we come in.” The Dwarf pointed his staff at the Baron and a rainbow beam of light moved at less than light speed toward the Elf.
The Elf crossed his hands and the beam of light bounced into the sky. Bullets were obviously striking near the Baron, but nothing seemed to be hitting. Until a couple of rounds sparked from the armor and the man staggered for a moment.
“His armor is too strong for your smaller weapons,” said the Dwarf through gritted teeth while he kept his rainbow beam on the Elf. “And he is too strong for me.”
As he said that a quartet of Dwarves in white robes ran from the rocks and into the castle on fast moving short legs. Soon more beams of light were striking the Baron. And a paratroop, coming right onto the tower, fired his rifle on full auto into the face of the Elf noble.
Paul wasn’t sure which overloaded the man’s defenses, but overloaded they were, and the Elf fell back with a smear of a face, to lie still on the roof.
“Well that’s that,” said Baurieth, getting up from his perch.
“Maybe not,” said the Dwarf, following the long legged man down the path to the start of the causeway.
“What do you mean?”
“There are tales of horror about this castle scarce to be believed,” said the Dwarf as his feet hit the level ground. “Maybe now we will know the truth.”
A half an hour later they knew the truth of the castle, as dozens of emaciated forest Dwarves were seen to by human medics and the healers of their own people. The bones of many hundreds of others were found in side chambers, or still attached to the chains of torture rooms. And many of the bones had been eaten as if by something with very large, very sharp teeth.
At the very lowest level of the castle they found the wellspring of evil. A dark opening leading into the Earth that exuded an unclean feel.
“We must seal this Hell Hole,” said Girison, looking into the dark opening.
“Maybe we should kill whatever it is that lairs there,” said Baurieth, pointing a flash into the hole and surprised that it illuminated nothing.
“Your weapons will not work on that which lives in this hole,” said the Dwarf. My people and I will see to sealing it up in a manner that will never allow this creature to enter our world again.”
Paul stared at the hole for a moment, then stepped back as a quartet of priests moved to the hole and started a ritual cleansing.
“So, Master Sergeant,” said Girison, looking up at the man. “Have you thought about my offer? Or should I say the offer of the Goddess.”
Baurieth thought about it for a moment. He looked back into his memories of this day, of seeing people with arrows in them sigh as the arrows were extracted, and the wounds closed. Of men with horrible burns healed as if they never happened. He nodded at the Dwarf.
“Yeah,” he said, looking over at the Dwarves swirling clean light in the air, weaving it across the entrance. “I reckon I will. Might be something worthwhile I can do here.”
* * *
“We are about to enter an unclean land, my Lord,” said the Priest, his unicorn underneath him pawing the earth.
“The land is not unclean,” said High Commander Fenris Hallanta, watching a hawk glide through the air. “The land is fine, once it is rid of the evil rulers.”
“And the time is finally upon us,” said the Priest, giving a head movement of surprise. “I never believed I would see the day.”
Fenris looked at the Priest, a thousand years his younger, and looking forward to three thousand more years of life. Fenris had hoped the prophecy would be fulfilled in his lifetime. If not in the lifetimes of his children. He said a quick prayer, wishing that the soul of his late wife was looking down on them, and that she was proud of her husband. And I hope that you approve of the Princess, he thought, opening up his soul. He felt something in return, love and acceptance from the spirit of a great woman, who only wanted her love to be happy here in the world of the living. He looked back to the sky and the hawk.
“It is not an enemy, my Lord,” said the Priest, looking at the bird. “Only a raptor looking for a meal.”
Fenris nodded and turned to watch the first company of his regiment riding over the border, past the Orc skull on a spear that marked this little peopled corner of two kingdoms. The men gave the skull nervous looks, not because of any fear of the dead, but due to its symbolism. A symbol of the kingdom of death whose lands they invaded.
All of the men wore elfin chain under grey sircoats, with open faced helmets on their heads. Grey cloaks flowed from their shoulders onto the flanks of their magical mounts. Cavalry swords were sheathed at hips, light lances were in hand. Over half the men carried unstrung longbows and quivers of arrows attached to their saddles.
I have a thousand men, thought the high commander. Eight mages and six priests. And if we are discovered by the armies of Ellala’lysana we will evaporate like snow on a fire. While he was thinking that he gave the men a confident smile. They were elite troops, not mere light cavalry, not even knights. They were the border cavalry of the Kingdom of Lianardas.
“What hear you of the other humans?” said the high commander, turning to look at the Senior Priest, who was also his communications specialist.
“They have accepted our offer,” said the Priest with a smile. “As we hoped they would. Not that they really needed our help, as the nomads found out as they tried to raid the camps of the Poles. Still, they were grateful to find friends in a confusing time, as are we.”
“Good,” said Fenris, returning the salute of the second company as they rode across the border. “We can use their weapons.”
“While they work,” said the Priest with a frown.
“Of course,” said Fenris with a nod of acknowledgement. “While they work.”
The tingling in the back of his mind let him know that someone was trying to contact the high commander. While not a far caster himself, he could pick up such transmissions and send strong enough for those so gifted to read his thoughts. In this instance he recognized the sender immediately. And his heart soared with the connection.
[My love] sent the Princess Lissindra Kjanara. [We follow your progress and pray the protection of the Goddess on you.]
[We will do our best, my Princess] he sent in return, then dropped all his shields so that the love of his life could touch his heart and know his feelings. [We will try to bring back another alliance to the kingdom.]
[You will succeed] sent the Princess, sending her belief and confidence through the link. [You will succeed, and come back to me.]
They then exchanged thoughts and feelings about their upcoming union, and left each other with feelings of hope. Then the connection dropped, and Fenris moved his unicorn into its customary place in the regiment, his heart light from the contact with his Princess and future bride.
* * *
“They are over the border,” said Princess Lissindra Kjanara to her father, the King Ellidron Kjanara.
“That is good news,” said the older Ellala, a smile on his face. “That border was what worried me the most. It is unlike our friends to the west to not have it better patrolled.”
“Our friends to the west have other worries,” said the other Ellala in the room, the Archmage Conastara Kjanara, the King’s cousin. “Such as tens of thousands of formidable warriors dropped into the lands. But Fenris would do well not to be too relaxed in that land of evil.”
“He will not relax,” said the King, looking at his daughter. “He knows what he has here, and wishes to return.”
“Good,” said the Archmage with a smile at the Princess. “The man shows good sense. I hope that the mission is as productive as you think it will be.”
“And you still doubt the wisdom of sending our men to meet with the newcomers, and their immortal leaders?” said the King.
“Does it still show?” asked the Archmage with a frown. “I feel it presumptuous to think we can be of aid to our saviors. Are they not the people of the prophecy? Then they should be able to defeat the enemy.”
“And let them make all the sacrifices?” asked the Princess with a scowl. “There is no guarantee that they will be able to defeat the half lich. Even the prophecy does not guarantee success. It would be criminal were we not to act and they fail.”
“You are still so very young,” said the Archmage, raising an eyebrow. “I know you are a priestess high in the favor of the Goddess, but wisdom also comes with age.”
“And I agree with my daughter,” said the King, picking up a glass of wine from the tray on the table.
“And you are the king,” said his cousin, picking up another glass, then handing the third to the Princess.
“And I am the king,” said Ellidron, holding up his glass. “May the half lich be turned into the wholly dead.” The others echoed the sentiment and clinked glasses.
“And may Fenris come back to us,” whispered the Princess before she took a sip of her wine.
After her father and cousin left, Lissindra took the fresh air of her balcony and looked out on her beloved capital city. She knew it wasn’t as grand as that of Ellala’lysana. The Empire had always been larger in every respect than Lianardas. But the city was still beautiful, the symbol of her people’s culture, the dominate of this world. Four, five, even six story buildings of stone and glass were noticeable among the many large parks. The people were out enjoying the day in those parks, their colorful clothing making them conspicuous even among the flowering vegetation. Their musical voices came clear to the Ellala Princess’ sharp hearing.
Something roared overhead, and the Princess looked up to see a flight of silver dragons patrolling the air above the city. They were a reminder that the kingdom, though not officially at war, was on a war footing. Any day the reds of the enemy could fill those skies, overwhelming the lesser numbered silvers and golds of the kingdom. That was always the fear of her father, that the buildings and people of the city might be reduced to ash under the assault of those beasts and their riders.
Later the Princess took to her chambers for a nap, having tired from the use of divine magic to communicate and look into the future. She knew that when she slept she would dream, and that there was a good chance that the Goddess would come to her in those dreams. She needed to know what might happen in the future, so that she could advise her father, that he would make the best decisions for the coming battles. As soon as her head hit her pillow she was asleep, and the dreams came.
She found herself looking down on a city of great towers of steel and glass, rising kilometers into the air. She recognized the two rivers flowing together to form a larger stream. A’atopona, she thought. Does this mean that our enemies have won. But the buildings? These impossible structures? Some beasts flew through the air, and she recognized them as silvers and golds, along with an orange species of dragon she was not familiar with. And the view panned from them to a large open field where a cylindrical ship was rising into the air.
And so the world will be, said the voice of the Goddess in her dream. No longer shall the Ellala be the dominant people of this world. That mantel shall be bestowed to the newcomers, and their new ideas will bring new wonders to the planet.
Then my people are to fall from your grace?” asked the Priestess, her heart heavy.
Not at all, said the Goddess, sending feelings of love and warmth through the dream. You shall rise within this kingdom, this future empire, to become an even mightier race than before, in friendship with the humans and their immortal rulers.
And just what are these, immortals? she asked, while the dream world showed her more wonders. Linked wagons moved across metal tracks, steam puffing from their leading segment. Great ships with masses of sail moved at great speed across the water. Peaceful Grogatha farmers gathered crops to sell to the city dwellers.
And then the image changed, and the Priestess found herself looking at a large man on an ornate throne, silks of purple and gold flowing from his well-muscled body. A band of gold confined his long yellow hair, and eyes of ice blue looked out from a high browed face. The man exuded regal power, and Lissandra could understand why people would follow this man. Even people of the haughty Ellala race.
With a start the Princess awoke, one of her handmaidens looking down on her.
“Did you have a bad dream, milady,” said the maiden in the burst speech of the Elves, the sentence taking a second to produce.
The Princess shook her head, still groggy with sleep. “I must talk with my father, immediately,” she said. “He must know what I saw.”
Chapter Eighteen
The line of vehicles stretched along what passed for a road as far as the eye could see. Everything that could still move was being moved over the road. Anything resembling an SUV of course was being used, along with buses and trucks, as well as many of the smaller passenger vehicles that had good gas mileage. Anything that wasn’t capable of moving on rough roads had been stripped of batteries and drained of oil and gasoline. Animals and birds in the forests surrounding the road cried or were silent, as matched their natures, to the invasion of beasts they had never before encountered.
Lines of stronger refugees walked along the sides of the roads. German soldiers walked with them, while their armored vehicles sat in over watch positions at key junctures of the road. Every ten kilometers or so a smaller stream would join the larger, as tens of thousands of people moved toward the fortified valley they were told would be their refuge on this hostile world.
Movement was
the key for the vehicles. Either a vehicle was moving down the road at a comfortable rate, or it was stopped, engine turned off to conserve fuel. Fuel was a precious commodity that would not be replenished. If a vehicle ran out of fuel it was abandoned and its passengers became pedestrians. The only exceptions being the military vehicles, which were topped off every couple of hours from the fuel bowsers running up and down the column.
First Lieutenant Jacquelyn Smith sat on top of one of the stationary military vehicles, looking out at the line of civilians as they trudged past. She could see that the German soldiers were alert, taking their duty seriously as they safeguarded their own people. And that the people were upbeat as they moved to promised safety.
I wonder if any of us will ever be safe again, she thought as she looked down the open hatch of the com vehicle. Inside men, and a pair of women, sat at their consoles, monitoring the dozens of UAVs that were patrolling the forests on either side of the road. Most seemed to be intent on their screens, even though they showed nothing but endless forest. They were intent, knowing that the empty forest could be a lie. As good troops should be.
The unmanned aerial vehicles were flying disks a little under a half meter in diameter. The disks flew using a central fan that was powered by batteries that were recharged when the vehicle docked. The disks carried an array of sensors, including cameras which registered in visual and infrared, and olfactory sensors, as well as a short 5.56 mm gun with a twenty round magazine. Larger versions of the UAVs carried grenade launchers or rocket launchers, and could attack an enemy kilometers from the controller. Each of the armored personnel carriers of the NATO forces carried two of the recon vehicles, while tanks could carry up to four.
The crew of the com vehicle monitored the UAVs as they swooped along preprogrammed paths around the refugee columns, switching from one to another. At some point a controller might take manual control of a vehicle and move it to some sightings of interest. Most of these turned out to be animals. But the controllers stayed vigilant, because what was assumed to be a group of herbivores might instead be a more dangerous group of hostiles, waiting in ambush.
Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1 Page 27