by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
With the help of some nearby soldiers, Treston and Alynnou managed to work their way about fifty rods further up the hill to the cover of a small depression. The group rolled a few boulders together to form a broken bulwark and then all hunkered down behind them.
Alynnou was busy tending the severely wounded PalaHar and a now semi-conscious Ishtar who cried out in a state of delusion from time to time. Treston stayed forward with the others, watching for the enemy. All along this part of the rise little pockets of retreating soldiers were gathered, throwing up defensive walls with whatever they could find. There was no more running for them. They had decided this was the place to make their last stand.
More enemy armor was entering the far north end of the valley, spreading out to the east and west to make room for the others coming in behind. Their advance from there was hesitant, the ominous, blinding snow storm further down the valley making them apprehensive. There was no way for the enemy to tell just what lay ahead of them, the relentless tempest hiding any secrets the hills might be keeping.
This didn’t mean the fighting had eased. Mobile artillery kept up a continual barrage on the new defensive positions Treston and the others held, occasionally sending a rogue missile into the whirling storm. And, as the valley continued to fill with more soldiers and machines, the tracked armor pushed further into it. To the defenders, it appeared there must be countless thousands of enemy soldiers pressing ever closer.
Every now and then, Treston saw a giant plume of snow and dirt blow into the gray sky. There were at least a few defensive batteries and tracked tanks hiding behind the blanket of snow, warning the enemy that all was not well on the ridges above them. As heavily massed as the enemy now was, there were casualties from every other random missile strike.
About this time, several commando gunships appeared over the distant hills way up the valley. Treston puzzled as the machines came in low over their people and settled down close to where PalaHar’s command car sat in a twisted pile. Amid tracer bullets and mortar fire, two dozen commandos jumped from the waiting machines. Several returned fire, setting up a perimeter, while the others searched the field.
From Treston’s vantage point, he watched curiously as the enemy scurried here and there as if hunting for something. Eventually, he noticed people pointing off toward the ravine. Most of the commandos hurried toward it, while the others boarded the gunships. Engines whined as the machines lifted into the air. They flitted to and fro to avoid the return weapons fire, waiting to be given directions from the men on the ground.
Much to Treston’s dismay, it took little time for the commandos to traverse the ravine and reach the upper ridge. They threw themselves down on their bellies and began crawling through the snow, their white clothing making them nearly invisible. Treston cursed to himself. He never expected the enemy would make a house call. It was obvious to him that they knew who they were looking for and where to find them.
Treston shouted to the other soldiers with him, “Get that girl and the general outta here! I’ll hold ‘em long as I can! Now get!”
As the others hurried back to Alynnou, Treston grabbed another soldier’s sniper rifle and slowly took aim. ‘Ka·Kow!’ The heavy caliber bullet sped three hundred yards, slamming through the helmet of the most distant commando. ‘Ka·Kow!’ ‘Ka·Kow!’ Two more commandos lay motionless in the snow.
Treston was a good shot and he knew, given time, he could whittle the enemy down to a manageable number. But time he didn’t have. These men were no amateurs. Not only were they advancing fast, the leader realized full well that Treston was picking off his back element. The forward commandos stopped and began laying down a sheet of fire while the others continued to crawl forward.
Treston could do nothing but duck behind the boulders as bullets whizzed and ricocheted in every direction. He grudgingly slithered back to the small thicket where Alynnou had been nursing their wounded companions. Suddenly he heard a cry and looked up the hill in time to see Alynnou crash face down in the snow. At that same moment, the whine of turbines became more distinct.
Panic gripped Treston. Throwing caution to the wind, he bolted up the hill to Alynnou, diving down next to her, bullets spraying all around him. Half a dozen soldiers seeing what was happening rushed over to help. They started laying down a defensive fire, forcing the commandos to take cover.
Treston rolled Alynnou over. Blood spurted onto his face and coat. A bullet had severed an artery in the lieutenant’s neck and she was rapidly bleeding to death.
Treston groaned aloud and started to whimper, “No! No! You can’t do this! You can’t die on me after I’ve waited so long for you!” Through his tears he searched for the wound, pressing it with his fingers when he found it.
Behind them he could hear the engines of a gunship as it started its approach. He guessed it mattered little now. In a few seconds they would all be bleeding in the snow.
Everything went a blur after that. Treston didn’t know if he was seeing a vision or whatever. A blinding afternoon sun broke across the upper hills while the valley to the north remained shrouded in gloom. The storm suddenly disappeared, revealing the secrets of the mountain.
Treston’s face was next to Alynnou’s as he lay over her to protect her from the flying bullets when the world fell silent. Even the whining gunship’s engines seemed to fade away. Looking back toward the enemy, Treston was dumbstruck to see the commandos up on their knees like statues, staring up the hill. He turned and raised his eyes to see what things were all about and gasped.
Along the upper ridge, east and west for as far as the eye could see, stood an army of mounted cavalry, sunlight glittering off helms and armor, giving the riders more of an appearance of gods sitting the mountains than simple soldiers. Hundreds of tall guidons of every color filled the sky, each carrying a precious name either of a battle, war, the living or the dead.
Treston stared, transfixed, as a lone horse and rider stepped out to the front of the long battle line. From this distance, he could see the person to be a woman, brown-skinned with silver-white hair flowing out from under her golden helm. She raised high a sword and shouted words strange to his ears. In amazement, he watched as the thousands with her lifted their weapons and drummed them in unison against shields and armor.
The crashing of metal against metal multiplied by thousands upon thousands sent shockwaves reverberating down the hills and across the valley. Threatening black clouds hurrying up from the south joined in with jagged lightnings and rolling thunders, filling the air as if with angry voices. “To war! To war we shall go! To the world’s ending and beyond shall all men be driven!”
Treston’s ears also picked up an increasing low drone of ‘thuump, thuump, thuump’, as the enemy gunship drifted closer. A sudden ‘krisss-thuunk’ followed by an earsplitting explosion momentarily drowned out the musical chorus coming from up the hill. One soldier hidden in tall grasses somewhere beyond Treston had been eyeing the commandos instead of the upper sights. That person’s rocket, unseen by most observers, slammed into the gunship, sending it crashing to the ground in flames.
Enemy combatants down on the broad valley plain, transfixed on the sights above were shaken back to their senses at seeing their gunship downed. Many thinking that a lightning bolt destroyed it began shouting, “The Cherubs fight against us! Flee! Flee for your lives! The gods’ fury has been waked against us! Flee from before their faces, or we will surely die!”
To add to the enemy’s growing hysteria, at that instant, hundreds of trumpets rang out the battle charge. As if one solid mass of flesh and iron, over nine thousand mounted troopers, sun glinting off their armor, bolted forward.
Slow at first, just above a trot, the cavalry advanced, its pace picking up until the horses were at a full gallop. It had been ages since Treston witnessed such a spectacle and only one other time in his life was it this grand. Long befor
e the horses passed him by, the very ground was quaking from the pounding hoofs.
Jonathan recalled Chasileah’s warning. ‘Once we begin to move, speed will become our friend. It will be a race against time to the valley floor. Our survival may well depend how well we can mix it up with the enemy. At least it will be harder for the gunships to go after us once there.’
His horse bounding along at a hard run, Jonathan’s heart raced with excitement as he watched Chasileah. Some half-a-dozen yards ahead of him, she brandished her sword high calling out strange and wonderful words that filled him with both joy and dread.
A battle cry! All around him, Jonathan was hearing the growing battle cries of the advancing horde. Some people were shouting, making wild yipping noises, other calling oaths and curses, and still others sang songs of victory or jubilee. It wasn’t long before he, too, was caught up in the spirit of that moment and joined his voice to the raucous tumult, the fear of death or harm whisked away on the passing breeze. The more he sang out, the more he yearned for the coming battle. Soon he found himself bent forward urging his mount to go faster, ever faster…
The enemy commandos retreated back down the ravine, wildly signaling the other gunships. Glancing over his shoulder, Treston saw the last one disappear over the edge of the ridge. Still pressing his fingers against Alynnou’s severed artery, Treston lowered his face close to hers, speaking softly, “Just stay with me a little while more. It’ll be all right. I’ll get us some help soon…real soon.”
As the gunships lifted off from the field, the first of Chasileah’s cavalry bounded past some so close that Treston was pummeled with clods of frozen dirt. On they came, making the snow dance in tune with the beating hooves. Eventually, the quaking faded away as the last of the gallant knights sped toward their probable doom.
A new disturbance filled Treston’s ears. Following on the tails of the cavalry, thousands of infantry were storming down the hills. For as far as Treston could see, the snow-covered land was alive with running soldiers. He watched in amazement while mostly leaderless mobs raced toward the valley floor. There was no captain over these soldiers, just the wild excitement driving the people on. What had been a tired and defeated army only hours before was now an unstoppable avalanche of humanity bent on one objective - destroying the enemy.
The excitement was contagious. Treston had to shout orders for the soldiers with him to stay. Even with threats peppered with colorful curses he nearly lost them to the moment. Finally, after calming them, they started to search for materials to make litters with. In the meantime, Treston stayed with Alynnou, attempting to keep her alive.
The plain below was a cauldron of confusion and dismay. Enemy infantry was scrambling back up the valley in a full rout. Weapons were cast aside in a mad dash north. If a soldier was unfortunate enough to stumble, he was often crushed by the unrelenting flood of escapees. To add to this bedlam, many truck drivers - even armored tank crews - abandoned their machines in order to escape in haste.
Then there were the mobile artillery crews who attempted flight with their big guns, running over hapless victims on foot, smashing through stalled trucks or often being smashed themselves. The roads out of the valley became choked with men and machines. Soon nothing moved, except those on foot.
Not everyone was trapped in hopeless retreat. Legion’s home-guard veterans and other more elite volunteer battalions held their ground, with some of their armor going on the offensive. All across the valley, tracked artillery began seeking targets. As Chasileah’s cavalry closed in, they found the air exploding with chunks of iron and shrapnel.
Also, beyond the low hills to the north where the valley turned off to the west, Legion’s generals were advancing a new line of assault. They were pressing their infantry up the rises, having them leave the roads and make their way over the hills to the valley beyond. Leading this new army were scores of the ZoonKeras cavalry. Further up the valley, several squadrons of gunships were hurrying forward to assist in stopping this troublesome intrusion on Legion’s advance.
The Glitter Brigade swept past the skirmishers and into the enemy’s main body. Already there had been huge holes blasted in the line of cavalry, one missile often taking out several horses and riders with every strike. Jonathan could see that speed was their friend, for the deadly hail of shells diminished after they had pressed the enemy line.
Jonathan followed Chasileah, dodging this way and that, avoiding the advancing machines as they pushed back the infantry. Riding near her, Jonathan’s eyes darted to his right in time to see a gun crew of a tracked howitzer throwing the bolt closed on their cannon. The crew chief was following them in his sights while his gunnery mate was pulling the lanyard.
With blurring speed, Jonathan saw another rider dive upon the gun, swinging his derker sword toward the cannon. Never had Jonathan witnessed the full might of a derker blade and he did not understand the fondness with which the Old Guard spoke concerning these relics of ancient wars. That quickly changed.
With a grunt, the rider drove the blade of his sword halfway through the six-inch barrel just as the gun fired. In a horrific explosion, the entire upper deck of the gun carriage rose into the sky, disintegrating into countless pieces, killing the gun crew as well as the nameless rider. The sword spun through the air, landing near Jonathan. He stared in disbelief, for the weapon carried not even a blemish or a bend.
There was no time to ponder the moment. Jonathan spurred his mount, chasing after Chasileah. They were up near the north end of the valley now, having passed through the main melee, going full tilt toward a mortar crew. Jonathan was slowly catching up, whipping his horse to do so. Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted from the saddle and pitched into a cloud of black smoke, crashing face down in the trampled snow.
Rolling over with a groan, Jonathan stared blankly at the sky. Regaining his senses, he stood searching his surroundings. Several feet away his horse lay dying, kicking at its own entrails with its one remaining leg. He scanned the field around him looking for Chasileah. Stumbling through the acrid smoke, Jonathan started calling out her name.
Some twenty yards in front, Jonathan spied another horse torn and ruined like his own. It lay on its rider, pinning the motionless person to the ground. Letting out a mournful cry, he ran forward only to be stopped by wild snorting off to his right. A giant ZoonKeras was charging the fallen rider, paying no heed as it ran over friend and foe alike.
Screaming curses at the top of his lungs, Jonathan dove toward the beast, his sword having never fallen from his hand. As he raced to cut off the animal from its intended victim, a brilliant-white flame began dancing along the edge of the blade. Jonathan felt a surge of renewed energy race through his body.
As he drew near, Jonathan realized that he could never stop the animal in time. He did the only thing possible. In desperation, he flung himself at the passing beast, sweeping his sword down across the animal’s front leg just before crashing to the ground. The sword stroke caught the ZoonKeras below its knee, slicing through flesh and bone, cutting the animal’s lower leg right off.
Bellowing in pain, the beast tumbled to its left, crashing to the ground on its side, just missing Jonathan. It heeled over and on its back, crushing the gun crew in their gondola. The ZoonKeras then rolled onto its belly, struggling to stand.
In the blink of an eye, Jonathan was on his feet. He took his scorching blade and thrust it through the plated armor, sinking it into the animal all the way to the sword’s hilt. Pulling it out, he began hacking at the beast’s head, cutting off a horn and chopping away its eye protection. Then, in one final thrust, he drove the sword’s point through the animal’s eye and into its brain. The ZoonKeras bellowed in pain and died.
Leaving his sword in his panic to get to Chasileah, Jonathan ran over to his cherished companion, dropping down next to her. The woman lay prone on her back, crushed under the horse from her hips down. Being very gen
tle, Jonathan brushed away the dirt from her eyes and mouth. As he stroked her cheek, thinking the woman dead, Chasileah’s eyes fluttered and half opened.
In a labored whisper, Chasileah begged Jonathan, “Leave me go, for I am dead. I depart for worlds unseen. Your kind are to lead the Order now. I shall pass on to my rest.”
The world raged in chaos around him. Heroes were born and heroes died. Fire, torment and destruction filled the air with their anger and fury. Gunships had entered the battle as well as newly arrived infantry. On the other side, Chasileah’s cavalry was regrouping here and there to swoop back upon the enemy. The surge of defenders had reached the valley plain, engaging in heavy hand-to-hand combat. And the tracked armor was returning from its flight to the south, adding the noise of their guns to the fray. Yet Jonathan remembers nothing concerning those moments but the hopeless ache in his heart.
One eyewitness later wrote concerning the battle: ‘Are there any words found to describe what I saw? I doubt it. Imagine eighty thousand people as well as tracked armor, mobile guns, and wild beasts, all attempting to destroy one another and confined to a space little more than five miles wide and three deep. Now picture yourself standing in the middle of all this, trying to keep your head on your shoulders while endeavoring to remove the head off your enemy. Life or death was meted out that day, more by the luck of the draw than by wisdom or skill.’
None of this mattered to Jonathan. He cradled Chasileah’s head in his arms, weeping, “No! No! You cannot go and leave me alone! Through death I have come down to this day, waiting my entire life for someone to love as I love you. You cannot abandon me to this world to journey its empty roads without you! You are the only shining light I have found in this Hell above the skies. Do not make me live another death...”
Unbeknownst to him, his words carried a peculiar musical tone. Paying it little heed, he repeated what had been said. Then he repeated it again. Chasileah groaned in pain, opened an eye and then relaxed, releasing a long sigh. Jonathan thought her dead.
He was near to bursting into a wailing lament when he noticed her breath on the chill breeze. His hands began shaking with excitement as he anxiously waited for each following breath. After seeing it a dozen or more times, Jonathan began a new little tune, letting his heart lead him along.
After a few bars, another sound intruded upon Jonathan’s ears. ‘Screechity clickity screech’‘Screechity clickity screech’ He glanced over his shoulder, dismay filling his heart. Less than fifty yards away and closing, a tracked tank rumbled directly toward them.
The tank commander ordered his driver forward, telling his machine gunner not to waste any ammunition on the wounded. “Run ‘em over!” He shouted and began laughing.
Jonathan bent down, huddling over Chasileah as he folded his arms around her. He whispered, “We shall ride the comets together...” and then started his little song anew.
A sudden, blinding explosion shook the ground. Seconds later, heavy pieces of iron and steel rained down around the couple. Jonathan looked up to see what happened. There, some one hundred yards away, a funny-looking, twin-engine aircraft hovered above the field, the pilot’s arm extended giving a thumbs up.
Noaz’ cavalry had arrived. The VoshanShar tank-busters came in first, tearing up the enemy gunships and mobile armor on the ground. Just behind them came dozens of Marine gunships, cutting the road for the Marine troopships. Soon hundreds of fresh, eager, veteran soldiers were on the ground, mixing it up with any enemy still trying to hold the field.
The VoshanShars eventually darted off to the north on other business. Far up the road, thousands of prisoners waited to be marched off to Memphis, there to be brutalized and eventually murdered. Screaming out of the sky, the tank-busters blasted away at anything moving on the roads, ripping tanks and trucks to pieces and scattering soldiers in every direction. On seeing their approach, guards holding the prisoners fled in panic. In a short while, air Marine units swooped in, securing the prisoners’ safety.
The enemy stampeded for the hills to the north, ignoring the two people huddled on the ground. Jonathan held Chasileah tight, still singing his little song:
“Live my dear one, live for me. Live for summer, live for spring.
The willow sings by the bubbling brook, while the dragonfly dances in tune.
Stay with me ‘til the summer is high, stay ‘til the willy-wag croons.”