Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

by Doug Dandridge

  They will probably have some ability to strike back, thought the General as he climbed the roped ladder into his saddle, the dragon remaining still to aid his ascent. Mages on the ground could still fire spells at the flying, wheeling monsters. And archers and machines could also sometimes hit a moving dragon. Team work by the teams was vital to avoiding damage from attempts by people on the ground to down the dragons. And these people have capabilities, at least for now, that are beyond anything we have ever seen. But the Ellala Dragon Lord was still confident that his force would leave enemy valley in ruins, and that most of his dragons would be making the trip out.

  The Ellala Lord settled himself comfortably into his saddle, then made sure that the saddle attachments were filled with what he wanted them filled with. His flight chief, a man who would be riding the great beast with him, made sure that all of the General’s straps were in place and tightened, ensuring that the leader would not fall from the moving dragon. The flight chief then strapped himself in further back on the saddle and checked the strapping of the other three Ellala who would be sharing the saddle, while one of them checked his straps. Satisfied, the flight chief then rolled up the rope ladder leading up the saddle and secured it in place. He tapped the General on the shoulder and gave the signal that all was ready.

  [To the air, my brother,] thought the General to the enormous red. The dragon roared his assent and his wings flapped out to the sides, opening like huge sails to the air. Jossianli could feel the evil glee in the return thoughts of the monster, the chaotic need to destroy, and felt a similar feeling resonating in his own heart. Only the reds were so savage, even more than other chaotic breeds of dragons. The wings flapped down with a booming sound as the red pushed off with his powerful back legs, and leapt into the sky, wings beating in a steady rhythm. Within moments the big red was hundreds of feet up and gaining altitude, while the orange ball of the sun peered over the hillsides.

  Below the other dragons were rising into the air. The ancients were rising like stately balloons, banking slowly through the air. The smaller beasts, juveniles and young adults, were gaining altitude swiftly, darting here and there as they maneuvered. The dragons began to gather in groups according to the plan, each group moving off to the east as it formed up, keeping station on other groups. A trio of huge ancients formed up on Death Bringer, who roared his greeting to the dragons he knew so well, his brothers. The General knew they had an hour and a half flight ahead of them, but could see action in a little under an hour, depending on what the enemy had on the ground.

  Within minutes there were dragons everywhere, covering the sky as they moved in formation toward the rising sun. Minutes later the valley was empty of the beasts, and the ground crewmen cleaned up the area and prepared for their return.

  * * *

  Major Conrad Gruber could hear the booming sounds coming from the west well before he was able to see anything. He had received the warning along with everyone else outside the valley, sent by radio before the sun could interfere with the signals. Still, when he could see something it was enough to make him spill his coffee down the front of his shirt and grab his field glasses. Scanning the sky, he counted at least a hundred of the huge dragons, flying a course that would take them over the sanctuary in less than an hour. And there were many other dots on the periphery of vision that he knew were more of the monsters.

  The Major climbed onto the hull of the tank, relieved that he had placed his vehicles under the cover of camouflage netting. Otherwise he was sure some of those monsters would be swooping down to immolate his command. Grabbing his helmet, he pulled it over his head and thumbed on the com switch, linking into the unit circuit.

  “Get me a line to Corps” he called into the circuit while the monsters flew overhead. “They’ve got to hear this, ASAP.”

  * * *

  General Zachary Taylor always enjoyed the first hours of the morning, when the sun was still low in the sky and the air seemed so clean and clear. He was savoring his second cup of coffee of the morning, wondering what he would do when the supply ran out. Probably adapt to some local concoction, he thought while he watched the last of his people leave the breakfast line of the local mess tent.

  Things were going well in the valley. In another week they would be fortified to a point where it would take modern artillery to root them out. The enemy only had one other army out there, their smallest, a mere shadow of the five ground forces they had marching toward the valley a half week ago. And that force had to be worried about being blotted off the face of the planet like the others. Of course there were still the guerilla forces of the local lord that they had been contending with since arriving on the planet. But those were not that much of a threat to any concentrations of armed Earthers.

  And the damned dragons, he couldn’t forget about them. When would they strike? Within the three days as prophesized by some dream from a man who had been a Special Forces master sergeant just a few days before. He guessed he had heard of stranger things since coming to this world. Unicorns, Elves, Dwarves, Pegasi, and of course those damned immortals who so vexed his plans, and somehow saved his ass. So why not prophesy? Though he wished it was a little more predictable and reliable. Might as well wish for one of the moons.

  “General Taylor, sir,” called out a specialist six, her face red as she ran up with a message pad in her hand. “Emergency transmission from the field.”

  “What is it, specialist,” said the officer, reaching out to grasp the pad. He was sure what it would be before his hand even touched it. Then he looked at the pad, feeling his face drain of blood as he read the writing.

  “From a recon unit in the clear,” said the young woman, her own eyes wide. “They were under cover and saw the creatures flying over.”

  “Are you sure they said hundreds?” asked Taylor, his mind rebelling at the thought.

  The specialist nodded her head as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Sergeant Major,” called out Taylor, seeing Cliff Jackson coming out of a command bunker. The black Sergeant came over in a jog, seeing the stress that was etched on the face of the commanding officer. Taylor handed the man the message pad when he came within arm’s reach.

  Jackson scanned the pad for a moment, then looked up with a strickened expression.

  “Hundreds of them,” said the senior NCO, looking around the camp at the normal activity. “Less than forty minutes away, by what it says here. I was kind of hoping they might wait some more time. Not really sure why, since the equipment will never be better than it is right now.”

  “You do the math much better than me, Sergeant Major,” said Taylor, looking around himself. “I guess we need to get the welcome organized, for several hundred oversized guests.”

  Taylor gestured for some other officers to come over, as the men had been lollygagging at them anyway.

  “Cliff. You get on the horn and get those choppers in the air. See if you can get those big warbirds and the gold dragons up as well. Then make sure that all the radar tracs are scanning to the west.

  “You men get the message out to anyone you see that we have an aerial attack coming in at a little bit over half an hour. I want all AAA and missiles ready to go. As well as any machine guns and autocannon that have been adapted to that role. And any of those magic users that can throw something into the air.

  “Now get moving everyone,” growled the General, feeling the adrenaline rush of a coming battle flooding his system and driving out the fear.

  Taylor walked quickly back into his command bunker, throwing out orders as soon as he was within hearing of anyone who could hear. A moment later the hand cranked alarms began sounding through the valley, picked up and transmitted along, and the airwaves burned with signals.

  * * *

  Gallandralla banked to the left, losing altitude as she changed direction. The wind whipped through the long hair of Mishanana as it flowed under his helmet. Jessica Stuart screamed in joy as the beast banked to the righ
t, flapped its great wings, and rose upwards on the air drafts coming off the valley floor.

  [Exhilarating, is it not,] sent the dragon rider to his passenger. Like all who controlled the beasts he was a powerful telepath. And Jessica, like most of the Earth humans, was finding that she had considerable telepathic power herself. She could feel the joy of the Ellala rider through the connection, as well as the essential goodness of the man and his mount.

  [This is totally unlike anything I have ever experienced,] she thought back at the Ellala. [My ship is faster, but I’m enclosed in a bubble of plastic and metal.]

  [Plastic?] thought the Ellala in confusion over a word he was not familiar with.

  [Kind of like glass, but much harder,] thought the human. [It encloses us and protects us from…]

  “What the hell?” said Jessica out loud as she heard the strident sound of the alarm sounding across the valley. It was being picked up by other camps up and down the long, flat area, and other sirens joined in.

  [What is that?] asked Mishanana, looking around at her as the dragon leveled out.

  [An alarm,] she shot back. [Something bad is going down. I need to get down to my ship. Right now.]

  [I will get you down there,] sent the Ellala, and the dragon banked again and went onto a heading for the human landing strip. [Then I had better rejoin my grouping.]

  [That’s probably a good idea,] thought the human. Damn, she thought to herself on a guarded band, looking at the profile of the handsome Elf. I was really enjoying this. And I might have gotten laid afterwards. Maybe next time.

  The dragon banked again, then spread her wings as she came in for a landing. Jessica could see that her weapons officer was already at the side of the ship, waiting for her, and the rotors were already turning on the other gunships.

  * * *

  “What the hell is that,” yelled out James Drake as the alarms began to sound all over the valley. They reminded him of the sirens used in movies about air raids. Whatever it was, it was not a comforting sound. It raised the hackles on his neck.

  He and the other mages looked around in confusion as those in uniform began to run around with purpose, heading for vehicles or bunkers. A nearby missile trac started its engines, then rotated its tubes to face to the western sky. A soldier in the nearby bunker pulled back the charging handle on a machine gun that was set on a mount in the center of a sandbag enclosure. A few rounds were sent into the sky, then the trooper safed the heavy MG that had recently been taken from some vehicle.

  “I think we’re going to war people,” said Stephan Neigal in a voice that squeaked with excitement. He pointed at a Sergeant who was running their way. The man came puffing up to the mages and stopped for a moment, working to catch his breath.

  “You the magic users?” asked the man as he straightened, wiping sweat from his face.

  “We are some of them,” answered James, looking over the man’s rank and name tag. “What’s going on Sergeant Baxter?”

  “We’re about to be hit by a big friggen’ dragon attack is what’s happening,” said the man in a harsh New York City accent. “The General has ordered your, group, to help in the defense.”

  “Where does he want us?” asked Katherine Heidle in German.

  “He wants you in groups of two, as many as you can form,” answered the Sergeant in Katherine’s tongue. “Two of you by the airfield, two by headquarters, and the rest scattered about the concentrations of civilians. Can you do that?”

  “I think we can accommodate some of that request,” said Drake in German, nodding his head and then looking at the other mages. There were ten others besides himself. Most had been institutionalized schizophrenics, with a couple of autistics. They had been the dregs of his world, except for himself unable to take care of even the most rudimentary of needs. Dirty and filthy, with bizarre behavior that drove most people away. And one day he might have joined them in that respect. Now they controlled the very powers of nature, and communed with the forces of the planet. Now they were respected, and needed by their people. He could feel the fear in them. And the determination to do whatever was needed at this time and place.

  “I don’t think we have enough to cover all of the places you talked about,” continued Drake, grinning. “But we can cover the airfield, the headquarters, and three of the largest camps. Will that do?”

  “It will have to, sir,” said the Sergeant, nodding. “I’ll get the word back to HQ.”

  “And we’ll need transport to the places where you need us,” said Drake, looking at the other mages. Some would be able to just go to wherever they were assigned, instantaneously moving their bodies through space. James was not one of those, having learned only the rudimentary skills of magic, outside of his natural specialty. But cars and jeeps still ran.

  * * *

  Kurt finished strapping on the last piece of armor and picked up his huge sword, sliding it into the sheath that was strapped to his back. He wished the damned sirens would stop for a moment. They were irritating his sensitive ears. After all, anyone who needed to hear the blasted things had probably already heard them. At that moment Levine pulled up in a humvee that did not have a top, though it had a fifty caliber mounted on the central pylon of the cab.

  “Are you all ready?” asked the ancient Jew as he jumped out of the jeep, dressed in his archaic looking armor that always reminded Kurt of a modernized Greek or Roman harness. Jackie stood up after pulling on her last boot, dressed in her chain and plate armor that covered her from head to foot, the hilts of her two swords protruding over her shoulders. She had a smile on her face and a battle light in her eyes. Kurt nodded as he shook his armor into place, the tungsten carbide and titanium plate settling.

  “I thought these might come in handy,” said Levine, walking back over to the tent that had been set up to distribute ancient weapons to modern warriors. He came back carrying a dozen large spears, held in a bundle with a cord, while the hilt of his bastard sword jutted up over his left shoulder. Several of the spear points glowed with energy, while the others just looked like wicked bastards.

  “I prefer this,” said Kurt, getting into the back seat of the hummer and placing his hands on the charging handle of the ma deuce. “Lot better range than those clunky things.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Jackie, getting into the front seat.

  Levine got into the driver’s seat after laying the spears in the cargo area. “We are to be a roving reserve,” he said, starting up the vehicle and shifting into gear. “So we rove and see what we can come up with to help the cause.”

  Jackie grunted as the hummer backed up and swung back onto the road. Kurt nodded from the back. He had heard of worse plans in his long life.

  * * *

  Paul really didn’t like the feel of the tunnels around him. Oh, there was headroom, even for someone with his six foot seven inch height. Most of the time at least. He had to duck at certain points, and once had cracked his helmet against hard rock that put stars in front of his eyes. No, it was more the closed in feel, the thought of millions of tons of rock overhead. And the knowledge that a cave in would kill him as surely as anyone else here. Maybe not instantly, if he wasn’t crushed to a grease spot. But eventually thirst and starvation would kill even his hardy form.

  “We are almost there,” said the Dwarven Warpriest, who seemed totally at ease in this underground wonderland. Or as much as anyone could. The Priest and his warriors were alert, and had pointed out several dangers to the humans. Then watched as the humans took out demonic looking creatures that the Dwarves swore were natural. They sure bled when struck by automatic rifle rounds. Or in the case of the Troll looking creatures they died under 40mm grenades followed by some flame rounds.

  “About time,” said Captain Marcus Jordan, wiping a cloth across his sweaty forehead.

  The 21st century humans had learned quickly enough that mailed forearms were not the wiping instruments of choice, as they abraded skin quite nicely. Paul’s would heal q
uickly, which didn’t mean he wanted to tear his skin with metal.

  “We are here,” said the Dwarven Priest, walking into a large cavern.

  There was a natural illumination of some kind coming from the rock. Large stalactites hung from the ceiling to join stalagmites in forming graceful pillars. There was a small lake in the middle of the chamber, about thirty meters in from the wall. There was movement at the other end of the chamber and a multitude of Dwarves stepped into sight.

  “I hope they’re friendly,” said Jordan, waving for his men to fan out and be ready.

  “We’re not here to start a war,” said Paul, looking over at the young American. “Make sure that your men keep tight control on their triggers.” And I hope to God they’re friendly as well, he thought, watching as what looked like hundreds of Dwarves came out of several tunnel mouths or seemed to appear directly out of the rock. Or we could be in real trouble.

  All of the Dwarves were fully armored from head to toe in tough looking metal. Most had axes. Those without axes had maces or hammers of massive size, and many had crossbows slung across their backs.

  “They look like they would make formidable infantry,” said Paul, watching as the Dwarves looked them over with fierce eyes.

  “You got that right sir,” said Jordan with a nod. “If they're like the ones of lore, they’ll die to a man before they let you move a foot through their lines. And that must be the big man.”

  Paul nodded as he watched the most ornately armored Dwarf he had ever seen move forward. Not, he reminded himself, that he had seen many. This one wore armor that shimmered with gold and silver, and his ax had a large gem in the pommel. He also had grey in his beard and hair, and one of his eyes had a patch over it. Definitely not a pampered monarch.