Maybe I’m not so bad at this politicking stuff after all.
The smile disappeared, replaced by the battle-ready coldness as the chain-link fence came into view. Jaxon stopped and held up a hand, ordering his squad to freeze. This close to the perimeter the sentries would no doubt be within earshot.
Signaling for his squad to remain, Jaxon crept toward the fence as silently as possible. Nearing the fence, he eyed the land beyond, searching for shapes and shadows in the darkness. A gentle breeze rustled leaves and branches, but Jaxon didn’t see anything that resembled a guard.
He waved the squad forward, and the next magi in line snuck toward his position. Once they’d arrived, the next in line moved. By the time the final magi was in position, Jaxon and Michael, his second in command, had unfolded the compact shovels they had taken from the SUVs’ roadside emergency kits and begun digging.
The ground was soft, and within a couple of minutes, they had made a significant impression in the soil. A few minutes more, and they had dug a hole big enough for even Jaxon to slip through easily.
Michael was the first under the fence, slipping easily into enemy territory. Rayna and Moreland were next, followed closely by Charles. Jaxon brought up the rear. Each member of the squad had been handpicked by Jaxon and endorsed by his father.
Nearly twice Jaxon’s age, Michael was one of his father’s most trusted advisors. Where Jaxon had trained the young magi in the McCollum Family, Michael Green had trained all the young magi of the Green, including Jaxon. There was no one Jaxon trusted more in his Family than Michael Green.
Although Rayna and Moreland were two of Jaxon’s childhood friends and Charles was one of the Greens’ most accomplished clerics, Jaxon secretly wished he could have replaced them with Allyn, Ren, or Leira, someone who he had been in battle with before. But the McCollum magi had other roles to play in the coming battle.
Once on the other side of the fence and officially in enemy territory, Jaxon ordered their squad to fan out. He took the middle position with two magi each to his right and left. Dressed in black compression armor, they easily disappeared into the darkness of the forest.
Jaxon smelled the first sentry before he saw him. The smell of cigarette smoke marked his coming, the small orange embers of the burning tobacco indicating his location. He stood a couple paces from the tree line, near a pile of scrap metal. Beyond him were the three large buildings Mason had said were being used as barrack. Nearest to Jaxon, the guard was his responsibility.
Dropping into a low crouch, Jaxon snuck forward and wielded a pair of jagged ice shards. He preferred using concussions of air over pulling water or heat from his body—air was replenishable, after all, and wasn’t as dangerous to use over prolonged periods of time—but the blast of air left an audible crack and wasn’t a solid alternative when stealth was necessary.
Jaxon made it to the edge of the tree line without issue and used the thick leaves of a large fern for cover. The guard—a man with a pronounced forehead and a wild set of eyebrows—couldn’t have been older than twenty-two. He looked into the forest, his eyes glazed over with boredom, more interested in puffing on the cigarette between his lips. Jaxon waited, and finally, his patience was rewarded.
After taking a final drag off his cigarette, the guard threw it on the ground and smashed it with a foot. When he did, Jaxon leaped from the tree line. The sentry looked up just as Jaxon brought the pair of ice blades into his neck, plunging downward at an angle into his chest. The young sentry’s eyes widened with fear and pain, and his mouth opened to shout, but his words died on his lips. He went limp in Jaxon’s arms, and with a quick look at the nearby watchtower, Jaxon dragged the guard back into the forest.
Back under the cover of the trees, Jaxon held his breath and waited. His eyes went from the barrack to the watchtower and back, searching for motion. He strained his ears, listening for sounds of alarm and movement. The seconds ticked by, and he saw and heard nothing, save for the pounding of his heart. Jaxon felt more confident his attack had gone unnoticed, but while he had avoided immediate detection, the attack started a second clock. Eventually, someone would notice the missing guard and come searching. The magi had to spring their attack before that happened.
With the guard neutralized and no others in sight, Jaxon began to circle the perimeter. His squad had already started doing the same, widening the distance between each other and seeking out additional sentries. When Jaxon came upon Michael, the elder magi had already eliminated a second guard, another who was closer in age to a child than a man. In the opposite direction, Rayna had done the same.
After it became clear there were no other guards in their section of the compound, Jaxon ordered his squad to return to him and alerted the arch mage that they were ready for the next phase of their assault.
It was time to take out the watchtowers.
Chapter 25
Liam could hardly believe his luck. After years of dreaming, he was finally behind the wheel of a vehicle—and not just any vehicle, but one of the biggest, baddest machines he’d ever laid eyes on. The Knights’ BearCats had been things to be feared, vehicles that transported soldiers of death who needed to be destroyed, but powering one from the driver’s seat was an altogether different experience. It was awesome.
The vehicle rumbled underneath him, roaring across the potholed road leading into the Knights’ compound with ease. Low-hanging branches, brambles, and underbrush slapped the sides of the vehicle as the BearCat swayed stiffly, its oversized tires rolling over broken slabs of asphalt.
Liam had kept the lights on, seeing no advantage to shutting them off. Allyn had mentioned the need for stealth, but the moment Liam and the other drivers had fired up the engines, they’d known that there was no stealth with these machines. There was only strength—pure, awesome, unbridled power that made men shiver as if they’d been touched by a beautiful woman.
Liam grinned—he couldn’t help it—and stomped on the gas, spurring the vehicle forward with a roar. He knew the display of emotion was unbecoming of a magi, but he didn’t care. Besides, no one else was there to see it. The BearCat behind him, the one driven by Nolan, let out a mechanical scream as it accelerated to keep up. They were the only two vehicles on the road. The remaining three BearCats were still at the original rendezvous point, waiting for the next phase in the assault.
As he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, Liam’s grin slowly faded, replaced by focus on the mission at hand. The road opened up in front of them, the forest becoming a debris-ridden field of tall grass. Liam steered the vehicle right as Nolan’s headlights veered in the opposite direction, heading toward a separate target. Liam’s BearCat shrieked, rocking to the side with a shower of sparks as it scraped against the rusted remains of an old truck. Liam jerked the BearCat away then overcorrected as the vehicle slid on the moist ground.
Focus, you idiot. He wouldn’t crash. He wouldn’t—at least not crash into something he wasn’t supposed to.
His target came into focus ahead of him. Over fifty feet tall, the watchtower easily cleared the tops of the trees that surrounded the enemy base. Cylindrical in design and made of red brick with an exposed steel-grated platform more than three quarters of the way up, the watchtower was something out of another world.
According to Nolan, the base had been built by Nazi Germany during World War II then run by the Soviet Union until its fall in the early 1990s. As such, its unique history echoed that of two fallen empires. Liam doubted more than a handful of such places still existed in the entire world. In many ways, its imminent destruction was a shame. In several more, it was justified, if not overdue.
He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and leaned forward, putting pressure on the seatbelt. It resisted, holding him in place. That was good. He wasn’t about to be ejected from the vehicle because he forgot to buckle his seatbelt.
That would be an unfortunate way to go.
The tower was getting closer now. He readjusted his hands, which had gone slick with sweat—when did I start sweating?—and once in position, floored the gas pedal.
The BearCat screamed forward. He was twenty feet away. Fifteen. Ten. He yelled and slammed his eyes shut. The last image he had before the world went black was of the red brick speeding closer.
Metal shrieked against stone in a deafening crash as Liam’s BearCat slammed into the watchtower. The momentum hurled Liam forward against the taut seatbelt. Pain exploded in his chest and shoulder, and the world lurched as the BearCat’s rear tires came off the ground then spun, its rear crashing into the watchtower again from another angle before coming to a complete stop.
Liam opened his eyes, absently rubbing his shoulder where the seatbelt had bit into him. Dust filled the vehicle’s compartment, and it smelled of mud and stone and scorched metal. With a groan, Liam shifted in his seat, gazing out the window. The vehicle was facing an unfamiliar section of forest, but out the passenger-side window, Liam could still see the watchtower. The sight of it still standing was nearly enough to send him into despair.
Destroying the watchtower was his one and only objective, and the fact that it still stood was an impossibility in and of itself. Liam’s BearCat had left a gaping hole in the tower’s base, and the upper column was swaying gently back and forth. Liam had no doubt that given time and a big enough gust of wind, the tower would collapse, but time was the one thing he didn’t have.
Wincing as pain exploded across his chest, Liam found the keys in the ignition and tried to start the vehicle again. The engine made a pained sound but didn’t turn over.
“Come on,” Liam said, trying again. The engine made a similar sound, this one slightly stronger. “There you go. Come on. You can do it.”
And as if at his prompting, the engine sprang to life. It didn’t rumble with the same strength as it had before, but as long as the vehicle moved, there was hope.
He threw the BearCat into reverse, steering the vehicle into position for another run. He heard another distant crash and spared himself a brief moment to search for the other watchtower. But where it had stood, a plume of dust was rising into the sky.
He succeeded—Nolan did it.
With something similar to resolve taking shape in his sore chest, Liam prepared himself for what would come next. He knew what he had to do. He also knew he couldn’t take another impact like the one before. He popped open his door and undid his seatbelt. Then, before he had time to talk himself out of it, he slammed his foot on the gas.
The BearCat lumbered forward, picking up speed, but not nearly as quickly as it had before. It didn’t matter, though. Liam had given himself plenty of runway, and if the still crumbling brick of the watchtower was any indication, it wouldn’t take much to topple it over.
Liam steered the vehicle into position, aiming for the hole he’d created, knowing that once he took his hands off the wheel, the ground would cause the BearCat to veer one way or another. As long as he got close enough, it wouldn’t matter. He lined the vehicle up, making one final course correction, then jumped out of the door.
He hit the ground with a solid, wet thud. The moist earth was softer than the taut seatbelt, though, and he rolled, coming to a stop just in time to see the BearCat slam into the watchtower mere feet from where he’d hit it before.
There was an ear-splitting crack, and then brick was crumbling. The watchtower swayed backward, away from the barrack, then toward it. More brick crumbled under the weight. Then even more. Another crack split the night as the rest of the brick gave way.
Liam reveled in the sight. He’d succeeded. He hurt like hell, but his mission had been a success. The tower began to fall, and his excitement quickly turned to horror. It wasn’t just falling. It was going to fall on him.
Shouting a curse, Liam ran. He moved out of the path of the falling tower, knowing that it was falling faster than he could run. He was going to be crushed. Smashed like a bug under a boot. With a scream, he found another burst of speed, then as he could feel the tower bearing down on him, he leaped, throwing himself forward.
He hit the ground as the tower crashed only feet behind him. He rolled onto his back, amazed he was unscathed, taking in the new sight.
Dust filled the air like fog, obscuring his view, but the tower had crashed into the barrack, tearing a hole through its center. Inside were human screams of pain and surprise. The sounds chilled Liam’s insides, gnawing at him like a parasite. Liam wanted to be sick, but he didn’t have time for that. Already, the Knights would be moving, arming themselves and preparing for battle, and Liam would be in another race against time to clear the scene before they found him.
He rolled onto his feet and ran like hell. Along the tree line, shapes, little more than shadows, emerged. The cavalry, he thought the expression went, had arrived.
Chapter 26
Jaxon watched as the second watchtower fell. From his vantage in the trees surrounding the compound, it almost resembled a stack of toy blocks brought down by an overzealous toddler, except when the tower crashed into the barrack, it was accompanied by cries of pain and death. After the collapse, Jaxon searched frantically for a sign of Liam and was relieved when he caught sight of a slender shadow moving toward the trees.
He made it.
His concern for Liam, and for the larger mission, had grown exponentially when the tower hadn’t fallen from the original impact. It had spiked in the long moments afterward when there had been no sound or sign of Liam at all. Jaxon had feared the worst, thinking that they’d lost both Liam and their element of surprise. He hated himself for equating the two, but if Liam had failed in his mission, then many more would perish.
“Let’s move,” Jaxon said then stepped from the tree line and broke into a jog toward the compound. It was time for the next phase of their operation.
He felt his squad form up behind him, expecting that the seven other members had formed into the predetermined V formation. He kept his eyes trained on the compound where he and three other squads were to engage the enemy. Another four squads were assaulting the other barrack, with the arch mage directing the battle from the reserve force that remained in the trees.
Breaking up their forces into smaller, relatively autonomous squads with only basic objectives allowed them to remain flexible and adjust to the changing battlefield—a necessity, they had learned, when it came to fighting the Rakkaran forces.
A thick cloud of dust hung over the compound, obscuring their view, but Jaxon could hear movement within the building. Shouts and orders echoed through the collapsed ceiling, mixing with the shouts and cries of the wounded.
Jaxon split his squad into two sub squads, handing over command of the other to Michael, and directed them behind two separate piles of broken concrete each higher than he was tall. Once in position, he watched the barrack’s entrance.
Seeing the compound up close, Jaxon wondered why the Knights had chosen it for their base of operations. The buildings hadn’t just fallen into a state of disrepair; most had already fallen in on themselves, and those that hadn’t were covered with moss, leaves, and mold, and looked like they could give way at any moment. The concrete that made up most of the buildings was pocked and crumbling, exposing rusty steel rebar at the corners.
He had no doubt that, at one point, the base had been something to behold, a show of strength and commitment to military power, but like the regimes who had occupied it in years past, it was now little more than a relic, forgotten by many.
There has to be something I’m missing. Something I’m not seeing. The thought made him uneasy, and he watched the entrance with even more intensity.
“Remember,” Jaxon said, without taking his eyes from the double doors, “don’t attack at first sight. Wait until they’ve had a c
hance to filter out.”
The first wave of the attack would set the tone for the rest of the battle. If they were able to draw enough of the Knights out from the cover of the compound before the first strike, then they stood a better chance at reducing their numbers and demoralizing the enemy. If they failed, however, it would give the Knights an opportunity to dig in and prolong the battle. In that event, their superior firepower would shift the advantage from the magi to the Knights.
“Here they come,” Nolan hissed.
He, along with the reinforcements from the McCollum Family—Mason, Andrew, and Topher—augmented Jaxon’s squad, mixing with Michael, Rayla, and Moreland. The mix left them without a cleric, which wasn’t what Jaxon would have chosen if given the opportunity, but his father had said this was a squad of strength that needed all the firepower they could get.
Jaxon wielded ice and ordered his squad to do the same. Nearby, hidden behind the other stack of broken concrete, Michael would be giving the same order, as would the squad leaders of the other magi squads that formed a loose crescent shape around the entrance of the barrack.
The first Knights that emerged stumbled through the doorway and nearly fell down the stairs. The thick dust no doubt made it hard for them to see, but they were also desperate, fleeing in panic.
“Hold,” Jaxon whispered. He knew he didn’t have to issue the order, but he hadn’t fought with many of the magi in his squad before, and he wasn’t about to risk one of them getting overexcited and exposing their position.
More Knights continued to tumble out of the barrack. Many wore their tactical armor, but a good number were dressed only in black thermal underclothes, no doubt having been asleep before the tower came down. Those that were in their armor eyed the terrain suspiciously.
Capture (The Machinists Book 4) Page 21