James pulled the power out of the ground, still considering his next move, while the woman reached into the air and started pulling another funnel cloud out of the sky. The sky is her domain thought Drake. She’s stronger than I am there. I will never be able to get through her defenses. He continued to pull energy from the ground, the air around his body igniting, while he continued to plan an attack. The funnel cloud struck the ground and started for him, giving off its freight train roar as it moved.
The ground, thought James, a brainstorm coming over him as he watched the funnel cloud kick up dirt. Her power stops at the ground. While mine continues.
Drake focused on the earth, tracing a line from himself to Katherine. He allowed the power to flow away from him, to the point directly under her. The power built under that point, the soil itself becoming saturated with heat.
Drake glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that the tornado was almost upon him. Katherine Heidle shifted her feet and looked down with a frown on her face. Now or never, thought James as he released all of the gathered energy.
The ground became a molten mass under the woman and flames shot up her pant legs. She screamed, a high pitched wail that cut through the roar of the tornado. Katherine backed up, her feet moving frantically while she beat at her pant legs with her hands. She stumbled, falling down the hill and out of sight.
The tornado immediately began to dissipate, and James Drake ran away from the storm and toward the injured woman. He felt a pang of guilt at having to harm her. There had really been no choice, though, and he knew it. He topped the hill, his own feet treading across the melted sand without discomfort. At the top he looked down, to where the woman was lying motionless on the ground. Quickly he scampered down the hill, coming to a crouch by the woman. Her lower clothes were still burning, her hand black with charred flesh peeling off. She was unconscious from the pain.
James Drake pulled heat away from her, putting out her clothing and removing the stored ergs from her flesh. She was still breathing, he noted with relief. He was not sure how much longer that would be true. She had been badly burned by his fire. He looked up for a moment when a beam of sunlight struck the ground. The clouds were parting as the energy that had held the storm together was gone. The threat of Katherine Heidle was over, but the cost might have been too high. One of their most powerful mages had been laid low, and there would be plenty more threats from the ruling powers of these lands in the near future.
Drake turned as he heard the clanking of tracks and the roar of a diesel engine. He looked at a Bradley fighting vehicle that turned in the dirt, its rear door coming down. Men ran out, weapons in hand, coming toward him.
“What’s going on?” yelled a Sergeant in English, then switched to German.
“She’s hurt,” Drake answered, picking Katherine up in his arms and heading toward the men. “We need to get her to aid as fast as possible.”
“What happened?” asked the Sergeant, stepping alongside Drake as he walked back to the APC.
“She happened,” said Drake, looking around the bleak landscape. “Then I happened.”
The Sergeant looked at Drake in confusion while the Firemage carried the Weathermage into the back of the vehicle.
* * *
“I don’t think this was such a good idea,” said Jackie, crouching behind the rock with Kurt as the dragon blasted the other side with a wave of fire.
Kurt had to agree. They had hurt the monster. They had hurt it badly. But it still had the strength to fight back. Some of its weapons, like its flaming breath, didn’t seem in the least diminished.
“I don’t know about you,” said Jackie, looking up with squinting eyes from a burned face, “but I feel like hell.”
Kurt thought about his own hurts for a moment. His leg had a laceration on it where the dragon had scored his armor. His arms were healing from the burns, but still felt stiff. And he was as tired as he had ever felt in his life. Almost too tired to move.
“We need to move,” said Jackie, as the ground thumped under them from the beast’s advance.
Kurt nodded his head, trying to gather his strength.
“You go left, I’ll go right,” he said. “Whichever one he follows keeps running, while the other comes in on the attack.”
“We need to take him out quick,” said the woman, frowning. “Before he eats us. I don’t think we’ll heal from that.”
“So far we have tried to take him out quick,” said Kurt, shaking his head. “Instead he is taking us out slow. You ready?”
Jackie nodded her head. Her eyes were wide and she was breathing hard, which Kurt saw as a good thing. Fear would make her move faster.
“Go,” he shouted, jumping up and running to the right. He watched the dragon out of the corner of his eye. Kurt felt the fear shiver through him as he saw the head track his way. He couldn’t help but look at the beast, watching as it moved its feet to line up on him and start his way. He wasn’t looking where he was going his foot hit the rock, causing him to stumble forward. A stumble which soon became a fall. He landed hard on his face, the breath going out of him. He rolled over, fighting the sickness of moving without breath, and brought his arms up as the beast towered over him.
There was a loud grunt and he saw Jackie flying through the air, followed by the long tail that had sent her on her way. Kurt knew that no help would be coming his way when Jackie smacked hard into a big rock, falling back on her face and not moving.
The head of the beast went up into the air, its red eyes boring down into the big German’s. The mouth opened and the head started down. Kurt knew that when that mouth closed he would be in it, and his story on this world would end, no matter what the Goddess had said.
The long spear seemed to come out of nowhere, flying unerringly into the monster’s mouth and piercing the roof. Blood spurted and the great beast roared, flames shooting out, the head tilting back into the air.
“Come, my friend,” said a familiar voice, and hands reached under his arms and pulled him to his feet.
“Levine,” he yelled, looking into the face of his friend. “I thought you dead.”
“After surviving Napoleon, Lee and Hitler,” said the Jewish Immortal, smiling. “You thought a dragon could kill me.”
The beast roared again and took a step toward the men, limping on its injured legs.
“I think we need to move, my friend,” said Levine, turning Kurt and pushing the man along, “before the beast makes me a liar.”
Kurt ran, feeling new energy as the fear of the beast behind him took hold. Levine could have left him behind, but paced himself to stay beside his friend. The dragon roared and fire licked at their posteriors, pushing Kurt to greater speed.
“It’s injured,” he said to Levine, glancing back at the monster. “It can’t be coming after us very fast.”
“Tell that to it,” said Levine. The monster was limping, but was still moving faster than a swift man. And it still had its breath. The head reared back, then thrust forward, and Kurt braced himself to dodge.
A pair of booms sounded to their left. There was a thapping noise behind them and Kurt turned in time to see the dragon’s head explode in the red of blood and flames. Another gout of blood rocketed from the creature’s chest. The dragon stumbled a bit, then fell forward. Kurt pushed Levine to the left, then turned to the right, moving out of the way of the dead beast, which, with its mass and momentum, was still a threat. He skidded to a stop as the monster hit, well clear of him. He let out his breath when he saw Levine come around the gory head of the monster.
“What happened?” asked the ancient Immortal, looking at the mangled head of the beast.
“That happened,” said Kurt pointing a finger at a hill about half a kilometer over, where a pair of Leopard tanks sat with smoke evacuating from their barrels. The commanders both waved at the men, and Kurt raised his arm in the air, holding his sword up and saluting the crews.
“So that’s the secret,” said Levine
, looking over at Jackie as she limped toward the men. “We had the wrong weapons to hunt dragons. We should have armed ourselves with tanks.”
* * *
General Jossianli Melisardra swore under his breath to Bothar once again, while he looked up at another dragon coming into the field. The beast was wounded, one of its rear legs hanging uselessly. It flapped its wings heavily to try and hit the ground as soft as possible. Soft as possible was not good enough. The monster came down too hard, and the leg gave out under it. The dragon fell on its face with a cloud of dust.
At least there was no rider aboard to be jarred by the impact, he thought. But more dragons always came home than riders. Since dragons who were downed also had riders that were downed, while some that were injured lost their riders but were still capable of flight, there was no other possible outcome.
“That’s probably the last, my Lord,” said the senior groundsman, looking nervously at the Dragon Lord.
“What’s the count?” he asked in a hollow voice, looking over the field that had been filled with dragons just that morning. A field that looked empty in comparison.
“We have a hundred and fifty-four total,” said the Ellala, looking down at his feet. “Of those at least sixty-three are wounded to some extent. We will probably have to put down about twenty of those. Forty-eight came in without riders, and scores more are missing some crewmen.”
Less than a hundred effectives, thought the General, out of over four hundred and fifty dragons we put into the sky this morning.
“The casualties were worse among the juveniles,” continued the Ellala groundsman. “We were lucky there.”
You fool, thought the Lord, looking down his nose at the man. It still takes a century to get a dragon to juvenile stage. The Emperor will not give me that century.
“If only those bastards didn’t show up there at the end,” said Melisardra in a whisper, thinking of the impossibly fast flying machines of the strangers.
“My Lord?” said the Ellala, leaning forward to hear over the noise of the monsters in the valley.
“My Lord,” yelled another man, running up, swerving to avoid some dragon feces that were in his path. “My Lord.”
“What is it now?” said the General, wondering if something was coming to strike this valley and cause more damage to his beloved corps.
“My Lord,” said the Ellala, gulping down air for a second. “We just received horrible news.”
“Well spit it out, before I have a mage rip it from your mind.”
“Yes, my Lord,” said the man, his eyes going wide. “We just received word that the strangers attacked the army of Prince Tristialla Mashara. They slaughtered the army with their infernal machines. We’ll be lucky if ten thousand makes it back.”
“The Emperor’s son,” said the groundsman with an intake of breath. “Almost a hundred and fifty thousand men. What will we do?”
That’s great news, thought the General. Another disaster might take some of the blame off of him. And the son of the Emperor as well as the largest of the field armies. The Emperor would be enraged and grief stricken both. And he might actually live to see another year of life, if not in command of the dragon corps.
“That is horrible, my son,” he said for the benefit of those around him. “Now it will be months before we can organize another army to strike them.”
And they will lose those infernal machines, he thought, allowing us to use our advantages to defeat them. He looked around the field at the dragons he still had. And there were another two hundred in the Empire as a whole. The Emperor would want to crush these strangers utterly, and all of the dragons would be used to do so. And they won’t have their aerial weapons, or the ground weapons that hurt us so much. And we will show them the power of dragons, so that they will fear the day sky.
Epilogue
General Zachary Taylor stood out in the sun, watching the troops drilling in the heat with their unfamiliar weapons and armor. The men were keeping their lines dressed, shields up, and the General felt proud at their ability to learn the new way of fighting. Or was it the old way, he thought. He glanced over at the three big men and the woman who stood there with him.
“They are indeed impressive,” said the smallest of the men, still a large specimen. “They would do a Legion proud.”
“Not bad at all, are they?” said the light skinned black woman, nodding her head.
“And they can’t be ready soon enough,” said Taylor, looking out over the valley, where people were digging in the fields or tending the crops that had been planted a month before. “All of our high technology stuff is gone. We’ll have to meet the enemy on his own terms the next time we fight him.”
“I don’t think they will like the terms,” said the Mooricaslavas Prince Harakihn kil Marizom, crossing his arms and looking at the infantry go from one formation to another without missing a beat. “I have never heard of such infantry. Or seen such discipline. They will be the finest infantry in the world.”
“They already are,” said the General with a smile. “Both German and American. But now they have to turn that discipline to winning with muscle power.”
The ebony Prince pointed to the edge of the field where a number of men were pumping weights that had been made to order by the Dimikran craftsmen. “And you train in ways I have never seen. Building strength.” He pointed to where another company of men in armor was running in formation. “Building stamina. You do not play at war, do you, General Taylor?”
“No sir, your highness,” said the General with a smile. “On my world we have learned that those who play at war go down in defeat. One of my countrymen said that war was hell, and nothing less. We fight to defeat our enemy, totally and completely, so that both sides may then reap the benefits of peace.”
“Sherman, yes, General?” said Ismael Levine, his smile growing. A great man,” the Jew continued when Taylor nodded. “I was with him on that march to the sea.”
Taylor stared at the Jewish Immortal for a moment. So much military knowledge, learned in the field. And I will be dust when these men are still leading this army to victory. How could I ever have thought to stand against prophecy. He turned back to the ebony man. “And we will have cavalry by the spring? And dragons?”
“Dragons you shall have,” said the man, who then shrugged his shoulders. “Though we don’t have them in great numbers. But at least forty of them. And ten thousand of the finest cavalry in the world.”
“So you say,” said the Ellala High Commander Fenris Hallanta, who had joined them on this field to see the training and seemed equally impressed. “We also will send ten thousand cavalry, many of them horse archers. And sixty dragons as well.”
Competition is good, thought the General, looking at both of his allies and smiling. Let them compete to send the most and we will benefit from it. And so will they. They have no idea what good we can bring to this world with our ideas. And no idea of the dangers that will come with them. He looked to the sky, where a squadron of hawks was working on tactics with a quartet of golden dragons, survivors of the battle. We can teach them things in the air as well. We had better, since we still have three hundred of those damned monsters to face.
“At least we will be behind good fortifications,” said the largest of the men watching the drills, his voice rumbling in a British accent. “The tractors gave us that.”
“Yes, Paul,” answered the smaller man, looking out over the valley with a thoughtful expression. “They did. Makes one believe in divine providence after all.”
“Well, I’ll try to turn over an army you can lead into battle, your majesty,” said Taylor, looking at the man standing between the other two.
Kurt looked over at the General, a puzzled expression on his face.
“I thought you were against a monarchy,” said the big German, crossing his arms over his chest.
“It’s against what I believe in,” said the General with a frown. “But how am I to argue with all of the Ger
mans in this valley. Or all of the damned Elves, Dwarves and Halflings. Majority rules, even if the majority wants to turn their rule over to a single man.”
“It is not something I really want,” said Kurt, shaking his head. “But it seems to be something I can’t escape.”
“That’s another reason I could see myself supporting it,” said Taylor, flashing the big man a smile. “I know you don’t seek power. And I’ve learned over the last couple of weeks what a good man you are. You have my support, Kurt, in whatever you feel needs to be done.”
“Thank you, General” said the man, bowing to the senior officer. “I hope I can do as well as you have, in ensuring that we survive.”
“Don’t get the big head yet, your Majesty,” said Paul Mason-Smyth with a laugh. “The crown hasn’t been placed on that large dome of yours, yet.”
“And this is what you will have to tolerate for hundreds, if not thousands of years,” said Levine with a smile. “He will always be irreverent.”
“Then we will have to keep him busy and out of our hair,” said Kurt, watching as the line of men came to a halt with perfect timing, turned in place, dropped to a knee and raised light crossbows. With a command they fired, then went into a very fast reload procedure.
“How is the young Mage doing?” asked Taylor, looking at Jackie.
“She is healing from her burns and should be out of the hospital in a few days,” said the youngest of the Immortals. “The Firemage who burned her feels responsible, and has been by her bedside whenever he wasn’t required for training.”
“That’s him over there, isn’t it?” asked Kurt, pointing at a man in light armor who was playing with a fire shield at the far end of the field.
“James Drake,” said the General with a nod. “Brilliant physicist from what I’ve heard. Going to be a power in the magic business. So what exactly happened with the young lady?”
Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2 Page 34