The Olvion Reality (The Chronicles of Olvion Book 1)

by Larry Robbins

  I stepped into a gap that was made for me by lesser-ranked officers. The dim morning light was increasing with the sun just about to break over the mountains. Then a sliver of illumination broke over top and the valley below was bright enough to make out details.

  “Curse the stars above,” Ruguer snarled. Then he slapped his palm against the thick observation glass.

  I felt like doing the same thing. The early light revealed the Grey horde deployed all over the valley in strategic locations. All of their fighters were armed and dug in. Earthen berms and trenches had been excavated unseen during the dark hours. There was no question that they were expecting an attack. Our sole advantage, surprise, was gone. If we attacked now we would be charging into fortified positions. Ruguer turned to take his helmet from his lieutenant and threw it disgustedly across the room.

  “How?” he asked, turning to Zander. “How could they possibly have known?”

  The king slowly shook his head and examined the floor. Everyone in the war room was shocked. Ruguer turned to me and the other two division commanders, anger obvious in his expression.

  “What are your orders, Commander?” Mag-Gan asked

  Ruguer got himself under control with great effort. He accepted his thrown helmet back from the aide who had run to recover it. The commander seemed embarrassed at his outburst and patted the aide on the shoulder.

  “We have no choice in the matter,” he answered Mag-Gan. “We have to destroy those machines today before they are completed.” He turned to me and the other division commanders. “Any ideas would be appreciated.”

  We looked to one another hoping someone else would speak up with a brilliant plan. And then, suddenly, I had a thought. “Commander, I have had some equipment being prepared that may be useful. With your permission I’d like to check on it.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “An hour, no more.”

  My commander studied my face for thirty seconds, weighing the costs of a delay. “We have an hour to spend if it might save the lives of warriors. Go then.” He addressed Mag-Gan and Vynn. “Have all of our warriors stand down and get some rest. Let the grey cannibals roast in the sun for a while now that surprise is not an option. But make sure the warriors are ready to attack on fifteen minute’s notice.”

  I saluted and ran to the elevator.

  “Ground…quickly,” I shouted into the voice tube. The box descended in free fall before slowing and stopping at the ground floor of the castle. Emerging I ran to where the bulk of my people were staged. I shouted orders to Pulg, having the men stand down then pointed to a large group of about a hundred warriors sitting with their backs to the wall.

  “Leave your weapons here and follow me,” I ordered. They looked to each other with quizzical looks until Pulg started shouting about what he would do to them, their wives and their children if they didn’t start moving with more energy. Soon we were running through the streets of Olvion, the citizens watching us curiously.

  I reached Geord’s shop and gestured for my men and women to stay outside. The double door to the shop was not secured so I entered to find it empty but I could hear sounds of industry in the back. I passed through into the testing and storage area behind the shop and found Geord already sweating and working alongside numerous other craftsmen.

  The old expert saw me and looked puzzled. “They are not ready,” he said, both hands held at waist level, palms up. I saw the wood and wire constructs lined up behind him in the yard.

  “I know, but how many do you have?”

  A month previously I had conspired with Geord to build a prototype weapon that was simply an oversized crossbow mounted to a wagon to make it mobile. The first model was tested and retested until Geord was satisfied that it could be an effective weapon. After witnessing a test session I told the old gent to create more and authorized the funds and engineers that he felt would be needed for the project. I viewed the big crossbows to be a specialty field weapon used to smash and disrupt enemy formations like the artillery of earth armies. But now, with the specter of an imminent assault on our walls I thought, I hoped, that they may have another purpose. One that might allow us to avoid a bloody and expensive assault on prepared enemy formations.

  Five minutes after arriving at Geord’s shop the warriors I brought with me were running back toward the castle stronghold gate pushing odd contraptions that looked like the offspring of a large cross bow and a wagon. Geord had a total of seventy six of them built and another eight that he promised would be assembled by the time I sent people back for them. It took two people to push and maneuver each machine clattering through the cobbled streets so we had to leave twenty six of them behind but I was going to send enough people back to get them all, including the eight that were now under assembly.

  I put Geord on one of the wagons and had him pulled along with us as he was too old to make the sprint to the walls. He seemed horribly embarrassed but took it with no complaint.

  Arriving at the east gate of the stronghold I sent a runner for Ruguer. Then I shouted orders to Pulg which made him seriously doubt my sanity but, good warrior that he was, he organized a large party of civilians to grab buckets and run down towards the large communal kitchens located in the basement of the castle proper.

  We had other warriors help us as we all pitched in to carry the odd machines out of the staging area and up to the first rampart level, placing them as close to the east wall as we could squeeze them. When the first group of machines were put in place I dispatched people to go for the remaining weapons. I was heartened to see a group of civilians join the effort.

  Geord was busy shouting instructions to the eighty people I had selected. He was using one of the machines as a demonstrator when Ruguer came out of the castle followed by ten warriors, his personal bodyguard in time of war. He approached me with eyebrows raised. I pointed to Geord and put a finger over my lips signaling silence.

  As we watched and listened, Geord demonstrated the way the big crossbow-type machines were drawn and loaded. Now he was showing the onlookers how a long, stout lever with a shorter wooden shaft hinged to it was used to draw back the incredibly strong bowstring that we had reinforced with thin, extruded wire. The head of the long lever was inserted into a hole at the top of the machine that had been reinforced with metal. The shorter hinged stick had a U-shaped metal attachment on the end which was snugged into the bowstring. When two people grabbed the long lever and pulled down on it the hinged stick was pulled toward the rear of the crossbow, taking the string with it. Once it reached a certain point the string was captured by a spring-loaded keeper which held it until a pull on the trigger released it.

  The big crossbows had two bows on the end doubling the energy of the missile it propelled. Our first tests of the prototype showed it capable of throwing a spear-sized arrow four hundred yards with relatively fair accuracy. The device was aimed by a simple notch at the rear and a post at the front. If pure distance was desired the weapon could be aimed skyward and pointed in the general direction one wanted to bombard. It wasn’t as accurate that way but it could achieve an additional two hundred yards of distance. In cases where infantry was closely packed it would be a terrifying and effective thing to behold, especially if the missiles it threw were aflame. No shield, helmet or armor would stand up to it.

  Ruguer watched as we continued to lift and carry the devices up on the wall, chocking the wheels with large rocks so they wouldn’t get under way and fall off the wall walkways. The wheeled wagon bases were intended to allow us to roll them into the field but were proving to also be useful in quickly positioning the devices along the defensive walkway.

  Just as Ruguer was about to ask for more explanation a swarm of civilians came running out of the castle carrying buckets of fat and grease straight from the grease traps of the kitchens. The mess sloshed and spilled over as the buckets were hauled up the stairs and placed against the walls of the ramparts and battle stations.

  My commander look
ed at the seemingly random and bizarre activity and a smile slowly formed on his handsome face. One reason he was our commander was because he was intelligent and that intelligence was now putting together the pieces of the puzzle that was being laid out before him. But he frowned slightly at the buckets of grease. He pointed wordlessly at the dripping collection, questioning me again with just his eyes. I quickly told him the action I’d devised. He sent for Mag-Gan and Vynn. As we continued to make our plans the second group of people arrived with the remaining weapons from Geord’s shop. We all pitched in to finish our new preparations.

  Noon came and went without the trebuchets being completed. We happily realized that the estimates of our engineers as to the time of completion had not taken into account the crude abilities of the sub-humans. The frustration of the Grey King was demonstrated by the sound of whips lashing the backs of those raiders who were laboring to complete the weapons. From what I was seeing the punishment that was being meted out was delaying the project more than accelerating it.

  Tinker got tired and hot in her pouch and claimed her perch on my shoulder. I was so used to her by now that I barely noticed. The Greys were still at their positions sweating in the sun under their battle leather and armor. Our warriors took great pains to let themselves be seen drinking from water buckets and splashing it over each other to keep down the heat. The cannibals did not have enough water to waste on such luxuries. Vynn ordered the warriors on the wall to laugh as much as possible without making it obvious that they were forcing it. A few knots of our fighters broke out into song, each trying to drown out the other.

  On the far side of the defense trough and in the center of the Grey’s camp we could see the king of the raiders, sweltering in his gold armor. He appeared to be fuming in more ways than one. It was obvious to us that he had been expecting an attack that morning. How he obtained knowledge of our plans was a matter for later examination. Spies were not really something that we had to seriously worry about. Few humans would conspire to help an army of creatures that would gladly eat you once they conquered your city. For right now we watched the progress of the trebuchets being assembled and kept revising our plans while continuing to keep the enemy miserable and at their posts for as long as possible before attempting our ploy.

  Already there was dissention in the ranks of the Greys. Arguments were breaking out among the individual beasts and between them and their officers. Small fights erupted here and there. Several raiders were summarily executed as a means of establishing order within the ranks.

  Finally when it was close to sundown, just before the temperature would start to decrease we decided to act.

  The deployment of the Grey forces was crude but effective. Like the smaller advance force that they had sent to bottle us up, they had separated their forces into square blocks of five hundred fighters each. They had been located as close to the castle stronghold as they could be without putting themselves into what they thought was archer range. Evidently they feared an attack on their war machines because ten blocks, a total of five thousand fighters, were entrenched around them. The rest of the beasts filled in any open area that was available to them.

  The valley itself was shaped like a large shallow bowl. But the numbers that the enemy possessed made it necessary for them to deploy all the way back into the foothills a quarter of a mile away. These troops were so far away that they would take fifteen to twenty minutes at a minimum to get into the fight. Then they would be bunching up against the rear ranks of the closer fighters in the front lines of the battle. By arranging them thusly it put a quarter of their force effectively out of the fight unless combat stretched on for hours and hours. We planned no such action.

  When it was time I walked up onto the ramparts and conferred with Geord. The old man was bone weary but he wore a huge smile. Being part of the defense of his city was enormously satisfying to the old gent. He verified that eighty four of our machines were assembled and ready. Each machine had a crew of five people. Two were there to use the lever devices to draw and cock the weapons. One stood by with a bucket of water. On the opposite side another held a torch. The fifth member of the crew was responsible for aiming and shooting the device. I had assigned only archers to this task. I went down the line of weapons checking each one. When I returned to the front of the stronghold ramparts I bent my head and said a prayer.

  I looked over the side down into the staging area and saw Ruguer, Vynn and Mag-Gan. Ruguer was preparing to mount his horse. Vynn and Mag-Gan were at opposite sides of the field giving instructions to their infantry divisions. Because it was my plan, Ruguer had instructed me to oversee city security which meant that I was to stay behind while so many brave men and women placed themselves in harm’s way for the defense of their homes.

  Ruguer looked up and caught my gaze. He swung up into his saddle and gave me a nod. I responded with a salute. I turned to the people that were on the wall defense positions facing the valley. My people looked back, eager and ready. I placed a conical megaphone to my mouth.

  “Load!”

  All the way across the wall long wooden levers were inserted into the holes in the front of the weapons. Once in place the long levers were grabbed by two people who used their body weight to pull the devices downward, driving the shorter notching stick backward. One device that was only two positions down from where I stood snapped loudly as the bowstring parted with tremendous energy and whipped around the sides of the weapon. I winced. One machine was out of action already and we’d not even begun. But the others all held. The bowstrings stretched back to incredible tension. As soon as the strings locked back the crews loaded shafts as long as spears into the wooden trench constructed along the top of the weapon. Each shaft had an iron point and was wrapped with the wooly pelt of an animal that greatly resembled a sheep. The pelts were saturated in grease which dripped all over the new weapons and the walkways beneath them. At Geord’s direction the weapons had already been drenched with water to keep them from catching fire.

  “Aim!”

  Eighty three sets of eyes lined up the notched rear sights with the solid posts that made up the front sight. They placed the posts directly in the center of the notches, raised the sights upward to gain maximum distance and waited for my command.

  “Light!”

  The torch bearers leaned in and set fire to the grease-impregnated pelts.

  “Shoot!”

  One flaming spear went about thirty yards before dropping woefully short and clattering on the ground below. I did not know the problem and had no time to find out. I saw Geord rushing in that direction followed by Pulg. Another shaft stayed on the weapon as the firing mechanism malfunctioned and refused to release it. The water tender by its side correctly doused it with water before it could damage the weapon.

  But eighty one large wooden shafts, each one wrapped in dripping, flaming pelts arced out over the walls like guided missiles. They sprayed wads of fiery grease down on the closely-packed blocks of Greys below before reaching the apex of their flight and then fell gracefully toward their intended targets.

  The ten almost-finished trebuchets stood a hundred yards back from the edge of the defense trough over which our four bridges stretched. This was a point about four hundred yards from the stronghold walls. The location was obviously chosen so that it was well beyond bow shot yet close enough for adequate accuracy for the trebuchet’s deadly purpose.

  Though safe enough from the average bowman, the new crossbow machines devised by Geord and his people possessed just enough range to reach them. I held my breath as I watched the flaming missiles strike in and around them. It was like slow motion to me, one struck the ground between two machines harming nothing and no one. A second hit the top of one trebuchet at just the wrong angle and glanced off to the rear. It did no damage to the war machine but landed in the middle of a group of Greys with deadly results. Six more struck the ground around the machines causing minor chaos among the individual grey fighters but not even
touching their intended targets. These new weapons were untried and their accuracy was not yet proven. But then again, we had eighty chances to hit ten targets.

  Things began to improve as I watched the scene play out. One fiery shaft smashed into a trebuchet on the left side and buried itself deeply into the wood of the construct. Flaming grease from the saturated pelts splashed over a large portion of the device setting it alight. Another missile struck the same machine on the base. The fiery pelt was dislodged and wrapped itself wetly around a support stanchion engulfing it in fire. I couldn’t have asked for better performance. The machine was a flaming pile of tinder in seconds. Other shafts found their targets. Out of the ten machines at which our people had aimed, six of them were struck multiple times by the deadly flaming spears. The pelts, saturated with animal fat mixed with alcohol, released a flaming spray of liquid fire as the arrow’s forward progress was halted.

  On the wall I ordered a second round of shafts to be strung. This time all were successfully notched and cocked. The missiles were set alight and sent on their way. Another eighty one shafts found both the line of trebuchets and the groups of bestial soldiers surrounding them. When the second set of missiles struck, every one of the war machines that had been so painstakingly constructed by the Grey raiders, were fully engaged by fire. Some of the Grey officers were trying to compel their troops to form bucket brigades from the barrel wagons but the threat of the huge flaming spears falling around them was more frightening than any punishment they could threaten. The dimming light of the early evening made the bombardment appear even more menacing, making the flaming spears more visible.

  I turned to look once again at the staging area below us. Ruguer still had his head pointed my way. I nodded and gave him a thumbs up. He shouted. In my knees and legs I felt the rumble of large chains passing through geared block and tackle then a huge slamming noise as all four gates fell open.