The CO and his staff waited patiently for the either the Elves to make a move, or for word to come through from Londum, about what action to take next.
The decision was solved for them however by the actions of the Elves. As the human soldiers watched a curious thing happened in the Elf settlement. Elves with sledge hammers started attacking the huts that had been built for them. Local carpenters and thatchers had manufactured the huts according to the specifications of, and under the supervision of, Elves. So why they were apparently dissatisfied with them was puzzling.
The end wall of each of the huts was fixed to the main frame by wooden pegs. The Elves were knocking out these pegs on each hut, on the end facing the lake, and as they finished their work on each hut, the end wall fell flat on the ground, allowing the device concealed inside to be rolled out.
These devices must have been brought through the portal in a dismantled state and re-assembled inside the huts to avoid detection. The device itself just looked like a large version of the wooden staffs that many of the Elves carried, a long rod with a bulb at the end, sticking out from a plain box. It jutted out at an angle, roughly pointing in the direction of the Cumbrian Rifles. The device was on a wheeled platform that allowed it to be moved into position.
‘What the devil …?’ exclaimed the CO of the Rifles, glancing round at his staff. They were as much in the dark as he was. ‘It’s obviously some sort of weapon. Tell the commander of the artillery to load up and return fire if any of those shoot in our direction.’
They didn’t have long to wait. As the runner carried his instructions to the artillery, one of the Elven weapons opened fire. The box at the base of the staff glowed bright blue, then the bulb at the end glowed with the same light, shortly followed by something erupting from the end of the barrel. It was as if someone had hurled a splash of blue, liquid fire at the soldiers. Unlike a cannon ball it remained visible as it flew through the air. When it hit, it was aimed at one of the artillery pieces and scored a direct hit, it landed with a splash of bright, blue flame, incinerating everything it touched as if a dollop of lava had landed on them. The cannon itself was melted sufficiently to render it useless, while the gun crew manning it were either evaporated or reduced to charred husks.
The other Elven weapons fired too, each cannon was targeted and blasted off the hillside. Fortunately, due to the CO’s order to prepare for action, some of them had had the chance to load and fire, before being flamed into destruction. Alas, their shots did little or no harm to the Elves, only damaging two of the weapons, which were quickly replaced.
The CO urgently beckoned the intelligence officer to his side. ‘You must get to the telegraph and warn the War Office about these weapons. Tell them everything you can about it, it looks like some kind of electrically charged liquid to me. You must warn them about the “Blue Fire”. Go, go now!’
The intelligence officer took to his heels, down towards the telegraph tent at the bottom of the hill. The CO meanwhile, drew his sword and told his staff to issue the order to fix bayonets and advance on the enemy in battle line.
Wooden sticks and swords eh? They won’t last long against my rifles, he thought. Alas he was wrong on that score. Severe damage was done to his advancing lines by the “Blue Fire” weapons. And as they came within firing distance of the enemy, they found that they too had more than wooden sticks and swords. Each Elf foot soldier carried one of the staff weapons. Unfortunately they could be used for more than just physical combat. The Elves pointed the staffs at the advancing soldiers, the bulb at the end glowed bright blue and a burst of that “electric fire” shot out. The range and the aim were just as good as the Lee Henry rifles that the humans carried but the effect when it hit was much more devastating.
Nevertheless, some of the human soldiers made it across the battlefield to confront their opponents man to man. The Elves threw back their cloaks to reveal they were wearing armour and carried shields. Slinging their staff weapons across their backs, they drew their swords. The British soldiers only had their tunics for protection while their bayonets glanced harmlessly off the Elven armour. True, the 5th Cumbrian Rifles did their best and many Elves died that day as well but eventually they succumbed to the advanced superior weaponry of their opponents and every one of them on the battlefield was wiped out.
Then the Elves proceeded to cross the hill to eliminate the remaining support staff, cooks, clerks, etc. but the intelligence officer, the only remaining officer of the regiment, ordered them to grab their rifles and ammo, abandon everything else and fall back to Ambleside.
***
The portal continued to disgorge platoons of armed and armoured Elves. Between the sections of warriors marching on Ambleside, there were the large, cannon-type weapons that had destroyed the British artillery, dragged along by horses.
The few human soldiers that had escaped the massacre set up a front line on the road into Ambleside while the intelligence officer urgently telegraphed Londum for help.
The cooks and clerks and the rest of the supply staff fought bravely but they were outnumbered and outgunned by a vastly superior, determined force. Once they had been eliminated, the “Blue Fire” weapons were rolled forward and began to pound the town with their bolts of unearthly electric fire.
Each sizzling ball of lightning punched its way through a structure in the town and then exploded in a huge ball of blue fire. Each house it penetrated was blown out from the inside allowing no shelter from the barrage. The withering rain of fire continued mercilessly for some time and then came to a dead stop, only to be followed by the tramp of marching feet as the warriors advanced on the town.
Ambleside is only a small town and it did not take long before the inhabitants were either dead, driven out or a few important ones taken prisoner, such as Mayor Robbins.
***
Lord Felder stood in Mayor Robbins’ office staring out of the window. Down below in the street he could see Constable Greaves and his sergeant dangling from the street lamps. Hung by the neck they swayed in the wind. They had died badly, beaten to death by the invading army, and their blood stained corpses hung there as a warning to anyone else who might think of resisting. It was the Elves practice to take the leading figures in a town and kill them first, visibly, with the aim of subduing the rest of the population.
He could see his troops run past the building from time to time and there was the occasional scream or the electric fizzle of a staff weapon.
The door crashed open behind him and his bodyguards, Krillan and Urtsar, came into the room, dragging Mayor Robbins between them. They threw him to the floor before his desk. Felder walked around the desk and looked down at him.
‘Good day, Mayor Robbins, or should I say Mr. Robbins? I’m afraid you’ve been ousted as leader of this town. Your service is no longer required. Sorry,’ he said with a fake smile.
Ex-Mayor Robbins looked up at him from the floor and asked through broken, blooded lips, ‘Why are you doing this to us? We went out of our way to welcome you into our world. You told us you were dying and we helped you. How can you repay us like this?’
‘Well, experience on a hundred worlds has taught us that if we just send armed troops through the portal we can often be defeated. No, what we realised is that we needed to have a base first, a foothold, to give us time to ready our weapons and our warriors this side of the portal, to hold off any resistance long enough for us to reinforce them with additional troops. We spin you the sob story about how we are dying, boo hoo. Please take us in and save us, sob, sob,’ he mocked. ‘And you invite us to create that foothold in your world.
‘It works on practically every world we find that is inhabited by humans. You fall for it nearly every time. If you looked to your history you would realise that Elves and humans are natural enemies. How can any society be so stupid as to invite their sworn enemies to live amongst them?’
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ replied Robbins. ‘It’s called humanity.’
; ‘I spit on your humanity. It will be wiped out … as you and your kind will be. They drove us from this Universe and we have waited centuries to take our revenge. I want you to go to your rulers in Londum and tell them this planet belongs to us and we’re taking it back!’
To Krillan and Urtsar he ordered, ‘See that he makes it safely to the edge of town and throw him out with the others.’
***
In Londum the War Office was put on high alert. Troops were mobilised and sent north to the Lake District and regiments were sent down from Caledonia. Meanwhile the Elven army continued to emerge through the portal and invade the Lake District. From Ambleside they came down as far as Windermere and Coniston to the south and then advanced towards Keswick and Penrith in the north. Each time a British regiment stood against them, they were smashed.
The Lake District is difficult terrain to move a modern mechanised army through, narrow roads and hilly country, and the human soldiers found it difficult to move their artillery, whereas the Elves relied more on cavalry and foot soldiers to attack and only bring up the “Blue Fire” weapons for support once they met a determined resistance.
Their tactics were unusual. Usually when an invading army captures a region they take the populace captive, not so the Elves. If anyone fought them they were killed on the spot. If anyone fled, they were allowed to go unhindered. If anyone stayed in position but offered no sign of resistance, they were driven before them to the town limits and left free to escape.
Their thinking was if they captured them they would have to feed and guard them, if they killed them they would have to clear up the dead. However, if they drove them away, then Albion would have to deal with the refugee crisis, increasing their logistic troubles while they were attempting to wage war on the Elves.
***
‘Well, where are our cavalry? Where are our foot soldiers?’ demanded King Victor. ‘In the name of the Gods, we have the most advanced army in the world and it is just being swept aside by these accursed Elves.’
The prime minister looked uneasily around at the assembled military and civilian dignitaries. Like him, they had been summoned to the palace to explain the lack of success of the British Army in stemming this invasion.
‘The truth is, Your Majesty, that we are short of soldiers. We have to maintain our forces overseas in Bharat and South Afreeka. Naturally we have to send fresh troops out there before the resident battalions can return home. They have already embarked on their sea voyages and it is impossible to stop them. As a result we have fewer troops in Albion than we would normally have.’
‘Why have we sent out replacements to both countries at once? Surely it would have been sensible to do them one at a time?’ asked the king.
‘That’s what we normally do. Afreeka works on a four-year cycle and Bharat works on a six-year cycle, so they’re normally different years but every twelve years they coincide. One can only speculate whether the Elves knew this and exploited the weakness.’
‘Once this is over, if we survive, we will change that,’ stated the king. ‘So what else can you tell me about them? What of this “Blue Fire” I hear about? What do we know about that?’
The PM waved one of the other dignitaries forward and introduced him to the king. ‘Your Majesty, allow me to present Professor Albert Onestone, Chief Scientific Advisor to the War Office and head of the Harwell research centre.’
‘Welcome to Buck House,’ responded the king. ‘What’s your role here today?’
‘I’m here at the PM’s request to explain what we know about the “Blue Fire” ’
‘Please do,’ the king urged him.
‘Well, from the descriptions we have received from eye-witnesses and the examination of the … bodies, my team and I have reached the conclusion that the Elves are using some type of “plasma” weapon.’
‘Plasma?’ asked Victor.
‘Yes. There are four fundamental states of matter. Gas, liquid, solid and plasma. Like gas it has no shape, no volume but it is a measurable item.’
‘I’ve never heard of it,’ the king admitted.
‘Not many people have but they see it nearly every day. Lightning, electrical sparks, some types of flame, even the stars themselves are example of illuminated matter in the plasma state.’
The King, as baffled as everyone else in the room, struggled to get an answer that he could understand. ‘So what you’re saying is …?’
‘We believe that the Elves have somehow managed to harness plasma. By exciting it with electrical current or superheating it they are able to store energy in it which is released on impact with a target.’
‘So, correctly speaking they are using “Plasma” weapons against us? Is there any defence against these weapons?’
‘We could perhaps try to manufacture some “Faraway” cages that earth the electrical charge but they would be cumbersome and only viable in protecting something large, a building say, or a group of artillery pieces. They wouldn’t be able to be used by soldiers on the battlefield.’
(A “Faraway” cage, named after the Albion inventor, Michael Faraway who invented the electric generator.)
‘Nevertheless, make sure your conclusion about plasma weapons is passed out to every scientist we have working for us. The more people working on it the more chance we have of coming up with some sort of protection against it. Thank you Professor Onestone.
‘One thing puzzles me, Prime Minister, why invade a small country like ours? It would make more sense to try and take over Amerigo. A relatively small population with a vast, open country and limitless resources to exploit.’
‘It has to be the empire,’ replied the PM. ‘Albion is at the head of a large empire. If they take us over then that gives them control of the empire. Seize that and you automatically have a quarter of the globe in your grasp.’
‘I see. Well we’ll just have to see that doesn’t happen. Right, as of now I’m going to take personal charge of this war. I want the War Office situation room transferred to the palace. You can take over the dining room on the first floor, make that the War Room. I have a telegraph office in Buck House, we’ll simply extend the wires into the dining room. General, get your staff and all the necessary maps and things transferred there immediately.’
‘My first order is for you to contact the Arch-Mage and have him send some of his wizards to Cumbria to help our troops out. See how the Elves contend with a bit of good old fashioned Albion Magick!’
Buck House
The king, the prime minister and all the top brass and minions from the War Office were assembled in the first floor dining room of Buck House which had become the War Room. Huge maps of Cumbria and Albion hung on the walls. Along the sides of the room ran tables covered in food and drink, while down the centre ran the long dining table that usually had more prestigious guests than those who currently sat or stood at it, poring over maps or typing out orders.
Most of the activity took place at one end of the room whereas the other end, the high end of the table, where the king would sit during a banquet, was left to the king and his immediate circle to discuss and plan in private.
Amongst the group was the Arch-Mage, Abraham Cadabra (known amongst his friends as Abra Cadabra) Albion’s senior wizard, who along with the top generals, had the unenviable task of explaining to the king why neither man or Magician had been able to stop the Elven hordes from taking over the entire Lake District. At every encounter, no matter how bravely the Albion troops fought, the Elves had gained the upper hand and defeated them.
The Arch-Mage looked at Queen Eloise, the queen of the witches, who nodded her agreement for him to speak for both of them.
‘Your Majesty, Magick has not been used in major combat in this country for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. Our people aren’t trained for it. Certainly we’ve been able to help in minor skirmishes but as for large battles, anything we try such as blanketing the field with fog, calling down storms, freezing rivers is quickly countered by th
e Elvish Magi. The truth is they have more than we do and it may be that they are better than us. This war will not be won by Magick.’
‘No,’ said an unfamiliar voice. ‘It will be won by bravery and daring.’
They all looked round and were shocked to see a strange man standing there. He was handsome with a Mediterranean complexion, and his dark hair was slicked back. The unusual thing about him though was his costume, it was made from alternating red and white, diamond-shaped patches. The jacket had puffed sleeves with ruffles at the collar and cuffs. The trousers only came down to the knees and below them he wore white stockings and black shoes with shiny, silver buckles.
To top off this bizarre costume he wore a bicorn hat in a vaguely naval style that came down to a point on either side of his head.
‘Who the devil are you?’ demanded the king.
The handsome man in the clown’s outfit replied cheerfully, ‘Actually, Your Majesty, I’ve had many names but you can call me ... Harlequin.’ With that he swept the hat off his head and bent forward in a deep bow.
‘How did you get in?’ asked the prime minister.
‘Like this,’ Harlequin clicked his fingers and disappeared. A few seconds later he re-appeared as everyone stood there, speechless.
One of the generals managed to rouse himself and shouted ‘GUARDS! TO THE KING!’
The guards who had been stationed outside the dining room rushed into the room and positioned themselves between Harlequin and King Victor, forming a semi-circle around Harlequin. (Fortunately they had been well trained enough NOT to form a circle.) They pointed their rifles at the intruder and awaited further instructions.
Harlequin waved his hand and the rifles turned to soft rubber and their barrels drooped down towards the floor, like elephants trunks. A couple of the soldiers dropped their useless firearms and drew their bayonets. With a click of Harlequin’s fingers the bayonets exploded into a shower of confetti.
The Londum Omnibus Volume Two (The Londum Series Book 12) Page 37