The Sword of Elseerian: The White Mage Saga #2 (The Chronicles of Lumineia)

by Ben Hale

  "The hostages are in the second to last vehicle. Alpha team will move in as soon as the kill zone is activated. Tear gas and flashbangs will be used when the road is blown. Throughout the engagement your call-sign will be overwatch. You are to position yourself in the mosque tower and prepare to fire. Under no circumstances are you to fire unless expressly ordered to do so. I will not risk a trigger happy girl killing one of my men by accident. Are we clear?"

  "Crystal, Sir," Kate said. She kept her gaze focused and full of steel, knowing she had no choice.

  Lieutenant Pearson nodded in satisfaction. "Satellite imagery puts them at eight minutes out. You have five to get into position and set up your gear. Dismissed."

  Kate saluted and turned to leave, but the lieutenant called her back.

  "One more thing, Lance Corporal. If you give our position away or get any of my men killed, I will personally ensure that you are court-martialed and removed from the Marine Corps. There is a reason females are not allowed into the force recon program."

  "I understand, Sir," Kate said, and then slipped from the room.

  Collecting her bag from where she'd left it, she hurried down the stairs back into the sun. Although it took more time, she jogged around the perimeter of the village rather than through it. She didn't want to risk leaving footprints that could be spotted—or accidentally tripping the explosives. Dressed in faded fatigues, the soldiers she passed were well hidden, and stared her down as she passed. Their silence was more of a rebuke than complaints would have been, but it only served to strengthen her resolve.

  She reached the mosque and found the stairs winding upward inside the tower. Broken plaster and peeling paint greeted her as she ascended, and within a minute she was at the top. The walls around the east window had crumbled, leaving an opening twice the intended size. Heat and sand billowed into the dome and swept out the opposite side.

  The tower provided an excellent vantage point, but the opening would allow others to see her as well. In a rush she collected some rubble and slid it into place, forming a makeshift wall that would make it appear a sniper was present. Then she descended one level and unzipped her bag.

  As good as the top vantage point was, it was incredibly exposed, and would be the first place anyone would think a sniper would be. The second highest room had a smaller opening, but one that formed a broken V at its base. It's wasn't quite ideal, but it pointed in the right direction—and it would be less obvious. It went against the training manual, but in this case she trusted her instincts more. With two minutes before her five were up, she laid out the pieces to her M40A1 sniper rifle.

  She assembled her weapon with practiced fingers and clicked the scope into place. Then she laid out a sniper's blanket and snapped the bipod into position. The slide glided shut just as her radio chirped. "Marks, I don't care if you are ready or not, get out of sight or I will shoot you myself."

  Kate kept the surge of anger to herself, along with the retort that she still had thirty seconds. Reclining onto the blanket, she shifted her legs and arms until she'd settled into a comfortable position. Her heart was racing from the anticipation and exertion, so she took several slow breaths to ease her nerves. Then she put her cheek to the stock and looked through her scope. She'd already zeroed it to 500 yards, so she adjusted her bearings from there. The dust cloud on the horizon exploded into view, revealing a convoy of trucks and SUV's headed their way.

  "Convoy sighted," she murmured. "Two klicks out."

  "You've got the high eyeball," Pearson grunted. "Call it as you see it."

  "We don't need her to—"

  "Cut the chatter Harris."

  The lieutenant's voice was low but it sounded louder, and the other soldier fell silent. Kate's lips thinned in annoyance but she held her tongue. At least Pearson wasn't a complete waste. They had been stationed on the Striker for several weeks together, so she knew most of Pearson's team. Like all recon soldiers, they were smart and lethal.

  Most of the soldiers were veterans of multiple combat tours, and had the scars and grit to prove it. She couldn't really blame them for their attitude toward her. To them, she was an unknown quantity. They didn't know her skills, or how she would react under duress, and so would seek to keep the situation controlled. The fact that Pearson had allowed her to assess the advancing convoy spoke volumes of his professionalism and intelligence. As she'd guessed before, she was an asset to him, and he would use her as such. She just hoped she didn't fail.

  Drawing in a slow breath, she reported as the vehicles materialized. "Lead vehicle is a truck with a belt fed .50 cal mount. Two men in the cab. One on the gun. Second vehicle is an SUV. Windows are too dark to make out occupants. Third and fourth are both trucks. Four men each. The men in the back have . . . assault rifles and RPG's. They are standing and alert. Recommend maintain cover until killbox is triggered."

  "Confirm rec," Pearson whispered. "All positions, confirm your position. When the killbox is triggered, you are cleared to engage targets of opportunity."

  There was a smattering of curt affirmatives. Once everyone had reported in, Pearson said, "Alpha Team, give us a five count prior to detonation. Marks, can you confirm which vehicle contains the hostages?"

  "Wait one," Kate said, and adjusted her scope. Through the bouncing cars and sunlight reflecting off metal and glass, she scanned for any indication of hostages. "Negative," she replied. "I cannot get a line of sight over the leading vehicles."

  "Wallace," Pearson whispered, "Skirt the outer building and see if you can get an angle on the rear of the convoy."

  A moment passed as Wallace hustled to a different vantage point. When he responded he controlled his breathing. "Affirmative, second to last vehicle contains two men and one woman in the back seat. All three have bags on their heads. Wait one," there was a pause, and then he added, "Possible additional vehicles in second convoy. Can you confirm, overwatch?"

  Kate slid her scope off the vehicles and squinted, trying to make out what lay deeper in the dust cloud coming off the first convoy. "Affirmative," she replied. Her heart sank. "Second convoy is headed by an APC with possible .50 cal—make that two APCs." Her heart sank as she called it out. An Armored Personnel Carrier was on par with a tank in armament, and could be filled with up to twenty soldiers.

  She'd paused to count the other vehicles. Then she said. "I count seven gun-mount trucks and two SUVs further back in the dust cloud. A third APC brings up the rear. I estimate . . . a hundred and twenty men if all of them are full. Sixty seconds until they reach the village."

  There was a smattering of profanity as the soldiers collectively realized what they were facing. Pearson barked an order and they fell silent. After a moment of static he began to issue orders.

  "Rodriguez, take both our AT4's and get to high ground in one of the south buildings. Prepare to eliminate the first two APCs. Wallace, advance to Finch's position but take his grenades for your rifle.

  "I have requested gunship support but it's fifteen minutes out. I say again, fifteen minutes until air support arrives. When the killbox is activated, Rodriguez, Wallace, and Marks will target the APCs and 50s. Alpha team, you will be extracting the hostages under fire. Get them out of the vehicle and under cover on the north side of the village. We'll hold our positions until the chopper arrives. They will provide cover fire for our extraction. All units, prepare to fire. Marks, go to one."

  Kate switched her radio and then heard a click as someone else switched frequencies. With the convoy approaching fast, Pearson didn't waste time.

  "Without a sniper this mission will be scrubbed. Marks, confirm operational readiness."

  Kate didn't hesitate. "Affirmative, sir."

  "I certainly hope you're as good as I've been told," he growled. "Return to six and stand-by to fire."

  Kate returned her radio to the team channel and then took several slow breaths as she methodically checked her gear. Rifle, ammo, posture, scope, she checked them all and then slid a long bullet into t
he open breach. She levered it closed and lined up her first shot. Last she thumbed the safety off.

  Even with ear protection the click sounded loud in her ear.

  Chapter 35: Firefight

  "Five."

  Alpha team began their countdown as the first truck entered the street, and the soldier's voice was barely audible. The truck's mounted gun swiveled across the buildings, searching for threats.

  "Four."

  The other vehicles filed in after it, their open windows allowing the Arabic voices to reach Kate's ears.

  "Three."

  The marines clicked their radios, signaling their readiness.

  "Two."

  Kate pulled up the slack on her trigger until it reached the breaking point . . .

  "One . . ."

  —The street disappeared in fire and sand, rattling every building as the C4 and Claymores detonated. The marines exploded into action. At the edge of the village flashbangs and tear gas were launched through the hostage vehicle windows and flooded the interior with light and smoke. Alpha team ripped the doors open and yanked the hostages out. Choking and flailing, they were half dragged into the nearest building. An instant later Rodriguez launched an AT4 antitank missile.

  The lead APC in the second convoy erupted in flames and shards of metal. A second later the one behind it followed suit. Then the marines opened fire. Bullets tore into the stumbling survivors of the first convoy, killing them as they struggled to bring their weapons to bear. Kate shot her target in the chest as he grabbed the grips of a mounted gun. Then she targeted and killed another.

  The marines eliminated the survivors of the ambush with brutal efficiency. Fifteen seconds after the initial detonation the vehicles were crushed and their occupants killed. The two APCs at the head of the second convoy were no more than smoking craters.

  The surprise faded with the rev of engines as the rest of the second convoy broke formation and sped toward the village. The last APC braked and slid to a stop in the center of the line. The other trucks and SUV's slid sideways as their drivers stopped them in a ragged arc to both sides of the APC. Seventy men piled out of vehicles and opened fire, using their cars as barricades.

  The .50 caliber guns stitched lines across the old buildings, tearing through the bricks like they were made of paper. Rodriguez bellowed as the entire building collapsed under him. Other marines dived for cover and shouted across the radio. Pearson's order cut through them all.

  "Marks, take out the fifties!"

  "Targeting now!" Kate shouted. Taking a shallow breath, she blocked out the sounds of explosions, gunfire, and the screams of dying men. She focused until the only sound in her ears was her heartbeat and the feel of her gun against her body.

  It was seven hundred yards to the nearest truck in the convoy, and she'd missed her first two shots. By then she'd gotten a measure of the range and wind. Controlling her breathing, she gathered every ounce of slack from the trigger. A hair pull between the beats of her heart sent the bullet exploding out of the barrel. Racking the slide, she turned to another target . . .

  Her first target screamed in Arabic as he fired the enormous mounted weapon. Blocked by the gun assembly and the truck's cab, there was nothing in view except his head—which disappeared as her first bullet struck. His body tumbled into the back of the cab, lifeless. Thirty feet to his right the next mounted gunman was struck in the chest. She killed two more and then swung her aim to the opposite side of the APC. By then some of Zwalik's men had begun to notice.

  "Taking fire," she yelled.

  Large caliber bullets flew past her location as several mounted weapons targeted her. In seconds they zeroed in on the highest level of the tower, shredding through the bricks and plaster, sending dust and grit tumbling down on her. A small part of her brain wondered if it would collapse, but she didn't stop shooting. Brass tinkled to the side as she ejected the spent round, and then automatically added another into the smoking breach.

  With the smell of gunpowder and dust in her nose, she targeted the last mounted truck. "Mounted gunmen eliminated," she yelled. "Targeting APC."

  Her first shot struck the metal shield that guarded the gunner, who flinched through her scope. The bullet impacts had tapered off above Kate's position, but the remaining shooter had figured out where she was. Bullets exploded through her level, searching for her. Bits of rock pummeled her face and body, showering her in sand and chunks of brick.

  She cursed as her second shot went wide. Breathing through the curtain of dust, she aimed on the man ducking behind the APC's mounted gun. She fired, and a split second later the bullet sparked off the side of the gap—but ricocheted through. Blood sprayed and the man collapsed into the APC. The bullets striking her position died away.

  "APC fifty is down," she said. "Seeking targets of opportunity."

  Amidst the rattle of gunfire, Pearson's voice filled the radio. "Finch, take out the SUV on the side. Porter, get Rodriguez out of the building. Wallace, have your team target the—take cover!"

  The RPG rocket streaked across the gap and struck a two story structure. Fire and chunks of rubble geysered into the air as the walls were torn asunder. Bereft of support, the building groaned and teetered, and then collapsed. Walls and roof crumpled and disappeared into smoke and dust. Before anyone could react another trail of smoke closed the distance and struck the building adjacent to Pearson. The entire structure shattered as the warhead detonated.

  "Retreat to rally point Bravo," Pearson bellowed. "All teams, fall back. Marks, Harris, covering fire!"

  Kate had found the pair of men with RPGs. Blinking through the haze, she sighted on the one raising his weapon to fire. His body folded in half as her bullet struck his midsection. She racked the slide as fast as she could and filled it once more. She fired at the same time the second RPG surged from its mount. He spun out of view as his shoulder swallowed her bullet. Then Pearson's building exploded in a shower of sand and flames.

  The first floor rippled, launching a pair of marines through the back wall. As the largest structure in the village, losing so much support was catastrophic. Stone ground on stone as it tipped . . . and then it fell toward the street.

  "Out! Now!" Pearson bellowed, his voice harsh and pained. Kate pulled her eye from the scope to see two marines stumble into view, dragging a third. All of them appeared to be wounded.

  Other marines limped into view as well. Several provided covering fire as their friends lifted their fallen comrades and humped them west, away from the convoy. One of them paused and fired a grenade from his assault rifle. It arced high and long, and came down on one of the SUVs. The men behind it were blown apart.

  Bullets filled the street in retaliation, causing anyone in view to dive for cover. Kate kept firing, trying to give the men a chance to retreat to a more fortified position. Her furious volley caused the remaining gunmen to stop targeting the street—and aim for her.

  Bullets closed the distance and peppered the tower, erupting in puffs of dust and rock. The longer range weapons tore right through the weakened bricks, threatening the walls with collapse. Several found her window and sailed over her back. She winced as one grazed her shoulder, sending a searing heat across her skin.

  "Marks, get out of there!" Pearson yelled into her ear.

  She ignored the order. If she stopped firing the retreating men would be pinned down. She knew it—and knew that Pearson knew it. Aiming for a group of men with long barrels, she shot them all.

  Then she spotted Zwalik.

  She recognized him from the brief she'd read on the way in. Leaning out the back of the last APC, he held a pair of binoculars to his eyes and a radio to his ear. Blood covered his cheek and poured from a wound in his arm. He didn't seem to notice. His face was white with fury as he screamed at his remaining men.

  "Primary target spotted," she yelled.

  Then she saw the man beside him. Raising an RPG to his shoulder, his aim was straight at her tower. It was too late to switch ta
rgets, so she pulled her trigger. The instant she did she caught her gun and rolled toward the stairs. She heard a rising whine as she fell through the gap—

  The tower exploded above her, throwing her tumbling down the stairs. Hot shrapnel tore into her left shoulder, and her sleeve darkened with blood. Dizzy and half-conscious, she dragged herself away from the rubble raining down the stairs. Debris pummeled her, but she forced herself to continue.

  She tried to stand, but was unable to get to her feet. Her mind screamed at her to move, so she pulled herself with her good arm, gasping as the movement shot pain down her opposite shoulder. She'd retained a grip on her weapon, so she pulled it to rest next to her.

  Her breath came in ragged gasps, but she fumbled with the weapon to check it for damage. The scope was broken, but it was otherwise fine, so she slid herself into position. With shaking fingers she reloaded the chamber. Blood remained on the slide as she slid it home. Without the scope she couldn't see far, but at that point it didn't matter. Zwalik's men had charged the village.

  From thirty feet up she could see Pearson dodging down the street to a downed marine. Hefting him to his shoulders, he sprinted back for cover. Blood coursed down his forearm, and there was a hitch in his step.

  "One minute until the gunship arrives!" Pearson roared. Pain and determination filled his voice in equal measure.

  "Relocated to lower position." Kate forced the words out. Pearson collapsed behind the smoking truck at the head of Zwalik's first convoy. He threw a look up at her.

  "Marks, keep them off our backs," he yelled. Wincing, he caught the offered assault rifle from the wounded man beside him and raised it to fire. Two others followed suit. As one, they fired on the ragged charge. Kate joined them.

  She fired as fast as she could load the rounds. Her left arm trembled each time she lifted a bullet and placed it in her gun. The blood on her fingers made it difficult to grasp them. Her shoulder screamed in agony at each movement.