by Damon Alan
“Stubborn mule.”
“Aye,” Irsu agreed.
Coragg was right about part of the equation. The humans did send troops into the forest. But their methods of confrontation differed from the dwarves, something of a lesson that Iron Company would learn in a few moments.
Air machines could be heard overhead, but also a sound in the distance, repeated over and over. As if a host of miners dropped their hammers into a chasm, striking nothing until the bottom.
Whump, the sound so softly came to them. Whump. Whump.
Three breaths later the forest erupted into fire and exploding ground.
“Disperse, meet a kokadros to the east,” Irsu yelled toward Coragg.
Numo and Irsu raced forward even as the ground surged and rolled with the force of the barrage. This was far more significant than the artillery of the Iron Mountain clan, catapults that hurled trade wagon sized rocks over a valley.
His respect for the deadliness of the humans continued to grow. They were killing his troops without risking their own. Even as the tactic was applied to his company, Irsu had to admit this was a good way to do it.
The bombardment lasted several minutes. He and Numo raced together through it all. He would have to protect the scout if at any point their path served up a meeting that descended into personal combat.
The sound of dwarves screaming was unnerving, if Irsu was honest. Usually in battle, most dwarven warriors died silently, but this was something beyond comprehension to his troops. Looking back into the fray, Coragg advanced with a team of three from Hearthstone platoon as debris rained down on them.
“Numo, we wait for Coragg. We have a company, but I fear we soon will be but a squad. Let it be Coragg that joins us.”
“Aye,” the scout answered.
Irsu marveled at the lack of fear in Numo’s face or voice. The dwarf was unfazed that this might be his last moment. Irsu’s opinion of the scout rose again.
After Coragg joined them, they proceeded northeast along the forest. Irsu was sure that area was dangerous, as it was where the enemy would likely maintain the barrage, but to go out in the open fields would give the air machines the targets they sought.
There was no winning path, just the one they were taking that offered them a sliver of hope.
The bombardment was random. The will of the Gods would determine who lived, and who died.
At last the five dwarves were east of the barrage, with only one minor injury. That injury would have been worse if not for the soldier’s armor.
Over the next twenty minutes a trickle of the company’s warriors joined them. Many others died in the forest. Some others died as they fled the forest trying to escape the clutches of unseen lethality, only to be struck down in the open fields by the armored spitter boxes or air machines.
When the attack was done, seventeen soldiers stood with him. Six were wounded, but all could travel.
“We stick to the trees, we move as fast and light as possible,” Irsu told them. “Ditch everything but your breastplates. We will come back for them later, if the humans don’t have them, but the armor is slowing us down. And possibly showing the air machines our location.”
“This was my father’s armor at the Battle of Wannoth!” one dwarf complained.
“If it’s that important to you, keep it,” Irsu offered. “But then your path is not ours. You will go south or north, not east with us.”
The protester stripped his armor off, burying it under pine needles.
The others followed suit, hiding their valuable protection as best they could. Like Irsu, the armor was a significant portion of their wealth. He marked the tree in his mind that sheltered his, then swore he’d be back for it.
Once again, they mudded what remained of their armor. Irsu didn’t know if it was glinting armor that gave them away, but if it was the cause of the barrage then the price for such attachment to a material thing was unbearably high. Over a hundred of his troops were either dead or wounded enough they’d soon be captured.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They fell back into a single file line.
“Step in step,” Coragg warned those behind him. “They must not know our numbers when they find our trail. Or they will lose caution, and we will lose all.”
Wise words.
No further attack happened on them following the bombardment, the humans were probably searching the barrage area even at that moment. It would take some time for them to determine the nature of their enemy, and by then Irsu would be far away.
Not long after they set out again the air machines stopped circling the area. Maybe the humans believed them all dead. Maybe creatures as weak as the humans would have been. But dwarves were made of stone, not butter.
The day’s travel was long, but soon Nollen appeared in the eastern sky, growing larger with each ridge they crossed.
By the end of that same day they were at the base of a long snowfield that swept up the mountain to the top.
“I hadn’t planned on us coming from this side,” Irsu said. “But it will have to do.”
“Can we get to the door from above?” Coragg asked.
Numo nodded. His confidence had grown once he’d arrived in the mountains. “I will find a way.”
One of the wounded soldiers, Hobrith, had developed an infection during the day’s march. Irsu checked on him as the soldiers dug cavities into the snowpack for their squad to rest in.
“Dig a deep hole for him,” Irsu told two of the troops. “And get some wood from the tree line. He will have a small fire to heat his body and help fight the infection.”
The deep hole would hide the light from the fire, and a small fire would turn the walls to ice, helping to keep the warmth in. The temperature at which water froze was very comfortable if wind was kept at bay.
“We rest here, we check our wounds, we assess where we stand in the morning.”
Coragg looked concerned. “Do we leave him if he’s deeper into illness?”
Irsu shook his head no. “Not a chance. We lose no more. If he dies, he will die in the Lost Hold, so he can celebrate his victory with his ancestors.”
Coragg smiled. It was the answer he’d hoped for, clearly. “I’ll see to it. If he lives the night, he’ll enter with us.”
“If he dies, he still enters with us. It’s the right thing to do,” Irsu added. “I am tired of doing what is wrong.”
“Don’t blame yourself for today,” Coragg replied. “I have never seen anything like that attack. I hope I never do again.”
“They’ve lost their chance. Tomorrow we make the summit, then the gate to the hold. Nothing will stop us now.”
Coragg handed him a skin, which Irsu assumed was water. It was not. The sear of Iron Mountain whiskey stabbed Irsu’s throat.
“You’ve been saving this?”
“To celebrate our entry,” Coragg confirmed. “But I came too close to Ekesstu’s grasp today. I’m not passing on with whiskey on my person instead of in my belly.”
Irsu laughed and handed the whiskey back. “Save at least a drink for the hold. I will have it there if you don’t think yourself worthy.”
Coragg frowned but put the skin away.
“Tomorrow,” Irsu promised. “Tomorrow is ours.”
“Tomorrow,” Coragg affirmed.
Chapter 27 - Resolution
June 1, 1940
“Lieutenant, we’re north of most of the battles of WWI,” Miller said. “What are the chances we could head north and take a look at this gate? If one had a mind to, I mean.”
Harry looked over at the radioman. So far, the kid had known about the swords and about the WWI battlefields. He was doing magic. And, it turns out he came from a family descended from Templars.
“It’s a good idea,” Miller said after Harry ignored his first comment. “Might even help the war effort if we can get home.”
“The chances are zero. Because I don’t see any dead men around me right now,” Harry said. �
��And I quite like that. A lot.”
“If we keep heading east we’re going to hit the Maginot line. If you think there aren’t dead there, you’re mistaken.” Miller said. Quickly adding, “Sir.”
Damned kid, Harry wondered if he wasn’t too smart for his own good. Or maybe Miller should’ve been an officer. “What’s our fuel?” Harry asked Tim, who was driving.
“About twenty gallons, we’ll have a need soon.”
“Let’s stop and look at the map,” Harry offered. “If north looks best, then we’ll go.”
They stopped once more on a country road, mostly gravel. Stone fencing lined both sides, to the south was rolling plains, to the north a forest stood off in the distance. East and west were hidden by the rise of gentle hills.
“Stay in,” Harry said to the men, “unless you need a tree. We’re checking the map for a course.”
Groans from the bed of the lorry. “We’ve had our bottoms beaten flat,” someone said.
“Beat them concave then,” Harry replied as he spread out the map.
“Look here, we just passed Neuvilly,” Miller said. “If we turn around we can head north there, and there will certainly be fuel in Valenciennes.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because the radio said the Germans hold it,” Hans translated. “Apparently my countrymen have stood hard against the invaders there.”
“Why would they give us fuel?” Harry asked, irritation in his tone. “Why not just take our lorry and make us help defend the town?”
“Because we’re allies now?” Miller said meekly.
“No,” Harry said. “The Germans might not be fighting us, but we’re not allies. We’re just in a truce until this outworlder problem is solved.”
“But what’s to the east?” Timothy asked. “The kid is right. We’re running straight toward Switzerland, and they’ll never let us cross the border.”
Harry sighed. “You too, Tim?”
“None of us want to go further from home, Harry. We want to get back to England. The south is no longer an option since the news of the dead isn’t really taken seriously yet. Spain is out, they just got out of their own civil war. Can you imagine us driving through in British uniforms?”
Harry laughed. “Bloody cold reception that would be.”
“Then we have to go to the French Mediterranean, if you don’t want to visit Italy or Germany.”
“I get it,” Harry replied. “We’re going north. But I’m not going to any German held enclaves and expecting a warm reception. We’ll continue as we have, day to day, getting fuel and food where we can.”
“Speaking of food,” Wilkes said, standing up in the bed of the truck and pointing.
To the north side of the road was a single cow. How it had survived the Germans, the dead, and the other sorts running around, Harry had no idea.
“Shoot it,” Garrett said.
“No,” Harry snapped, but it was too late.
Wilkes’ gun retorted, and the sound echoed out from their location. The cow dropped to the ground.
Harry shook his head in disbelief. “Wilkes, if you shoot without my order again, I’ll take your gun away and make you carry all the gear.”
“It’s food, Lieutenant.”
“Quiet, all of you,” Harry shot back, irritated. “I mean it Wilkes. Don’t disobey this order.”
Wilkes looked down, embarrassed. He nodded his understanding.
Harry studied the map to determine a path to the north, when the men started yelling. So much for quiet.
He looked up to see four creatures in the field north of them, running toward their position. As they passed the cow, a good two hundred yards from the lorry, one stopped to pick it up. And did so with ease. The beasts, somewhat man-like, were the giants from Norse legends if anything ever was. Towering into the sky, three of the beasts kept coming for the lorry.
“Open fire!” Harry yelled.
The men were ready. A hail of bullets rained on the creatures, which slowed them down, but didn’t kill them. If anything, the largest of them seemed angrier. As it neared the fence Harry prepared himself for the carnage that was about to unleash on them.
That’s when Miller proved his true worth to the team.
An orange and ragingly bright ball of fire raced from behind Harry, straight toward the chest of the mighty monster. It impacted as the creature was crashing through the stone fence only a dozen yards from the lorry. The heat from Miller’s trick was intense. Harry felt it from his position.
The ball of energy was a few yards wide when it struck the creature, and immediately it spread out over his torso. Much like the carriage house, the giant seemed eager to catch on fire.
The brute dropped to the ground, screaming, as the fire grew both inside the giant and outside as well. Flames licked from within the huge chasm of a mouth as the thing screamed, also unleashing a thick black smoke from the orifice like a smokestack.
The other three creatures, slower to arrive, froze in their tracks.
The two furthest away turned and ran back the way they came toward the trees.
The one with the cow flung it half the distance between him and the lorry as his burning compatriot stopped moving and succumbed to death.
Hurling the bovine at them was a futile attempt to bombard Harry’s crew. With a cow. The last giant facing them peered across the field as if wondering what to do. It looked back at the two behind it, back at the Brits, then back and forth a few more times.
“Concentrate your fire on the standing one,” Harry ordered.
A moment later the beast was writhing as a hail of bullets impacted his body. He gyrated like a dog being bitten by fleas, then turned and ran after his companions.
Harry looked at Miller. “Well don—”
Miller’s eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the ground.
Harry burst into action, grabbing his soldier and lifting him toward the lorry. “Get him in the back, we have to go before they return.”
“The cow!” Wilkes protested.
Obviously, Wilkes was hungry. Another issue to resolve.
“Run out there and cut off a back leg while we turn the lorry around,” Harry ordered. “We’re going back to Neuvilly for the night. It seemed abandoned, and the dead weren’t swarming it.”
It took a bit of time to sever a hindquarter, but it was worth it. They had a good amount of meat in a time when they were struggling to find food. Miller was breathing, although unconscious in the back. The Matador was facing west for a change.
They possibly had a mission, although nobody at any HQ had sanctioned it.
Their actual mission, to rescue British citizens, was a bust. Not a single one was found, alive or dead, during their travels. So a new mission might not be a bad idea.
Harry stared at the north forest line as the lorry bounced along. The giants were nowhere to be seen, but the more distance between them and his team, the better.
“Every day we see dragons in the distant sky. We see dead men walking the land. We see strange people who aren’t human. And now giants? The world is mad,” Tim said to him as they drove.
“It’s not our world that’s mad,” Harry answered, “at least not in the way you mean. But the one that is spilling into ours.”
Silence for a bit.
“Maybe Miller’s right. We need to go north, get some intel, and get it home to the people who make decisions,” Tim suggested.
“I agree. We’ll make a plan in the morning, you and I. And Miller, I suppose. That lad’s smarter than I ever knew.” Harry sighed. “But then he’s said more since the day this all started than he’d said in the time I’d known him before that.”
“Strange kid,” Tim said. “But he knocked down that monster when we needed it.”
“Sacrificing himself,” Harry agreed. “That’s not going to work. We need heavier equipment if we’re going to keep this up.” He threw up his hands. “Giants? Really. Giants.”
T
imothy laughed. “It’s preposterous.”
“Damned right it’s preposterous.” Harry shook his head. “But it’s also a fact. We’re doing the best we can.”
“We’re alive.”
“Yeah, Tim. We’re alive.”
Chapter 28 - The Ark of the Covenant
June 1, 1940
“Behold, the LORD thy God hath set the land before thee: go up and possess it, as the Lord God of thy fathers hath said unto thee; fear not, neither be discouraged,” Ernst read to Herta from the Bible.
“You think that means God is telling man not to fear those who we are fighting now? That he was one of the powerful beings who created things like the gate?” She looked puzzled.
“I think exactly that,” Ernst said, “although I admit, that’s reading a lot into it. But I think there are ways to overcome the barrier, the Intepna Hojarr being one, in conjunction with the Inshu Key.”
“What happened in Rotterdam, Ernst? I see the coldness that comes into your eyes when you speak of the gate. You were there, tell me.”
“I had no idea what would happen, to be honest. We, our team, were setting up the Intepna Hojarr on the altar at the cathedral. Just as planned. We were to test the key, to see what effect it had step by step. By which I mean we were to turn it just a bit, and see what worlds opened to us, in order to advance the power of the Reich.”
“Go on,” she said.
“Then Meckler asked if he could turn the key,” Ernst told her. “I said yes, he knew the plan. A tiny turn, observe the results. Instead he turned the key to its fullest extent. The gate surged forth, pulling everyone near the altar in. I, and the driver of my car, I’m not proud to say… we ran for our lives. Monsters began pouring through the gate and slaughtering the occupying troops.”
Ernst did his best to look guilt ridden. “I should never have handed Meckler the key. How he knew betraying us would work him into favor with those on the other side, I don’t know. But I had the key, and I gave it to him.”
Herta grabbed him, looked him in the face, then hugged him close. “This is not your fault,” she asserted. “Even the high command knows this, or they’d have removed you from the picture.”