I looked to the man to his right, “Does he speak true?”
“Yes, your lordship,” he said.
“My Dude!” Arsch corrected him and then slapped his knee with the flat of his sword.
I was surprised by the outbreak by Arsch but didn’t let it show.
“Yes, My Dude!”
“Any of the other women raped?”
“Rape of a human is illegal, only subs.”
I growled a little; what type of fucked up laws. “The gnomes?”
He gave me a look as if what I asked was preposterous and then said, “No, My Dude.”
“Arsch, find me a brand,” I said.
Five minutes later, a horse brand was brought to us. It was larger than I liked.
In the distance, I heard the wailing of a man.
A small smile crept across my face. “This won’t work; find me a knife, please, mine is in use.”
A few seconds later, I had a knife.
“I will hear oaths of non-aggression from all of you. If you swear to never raise arms except in self-defense, I will spare you. If not, I will promise you a swift death.”
Many started yelling and begging for their lives.
“I’ll make this simple, if you swear, step forward.”
As I expected, they all stepped forward.
A second voice of anguish called out.
I dipped the knife in the coals of a fire that was smoldering until the blade was red.
I tore the shirt of Logan and pressed the blade against his upper arm twice, to form an X.
He did not cry out.
“If you forsake this oath, I will geld you, and then execute you a fortnight later.”
The elves saw what I was doing and helped me brand the prisoners.
No one protested when I released them.
“You may take a skin, a pack, a single knife, and food. Then you must leave. You are banned from Teletha proper,” I said.
Most of them were happy to just be alive.
“That was very generous of you,” Arsch said.
“We’re better than them,” I said.
Fifty meters away, I heard the sixth scream of a man being tortured.
Chapter 43
We linked up with the train about midday. Glory Beard was very pleased with the results of the raid. With his recommendation, I ordered a single wagon with the litter casualties, refugees, and any ambulatory casualties who could not fight, to head back to gnomeland.
I would later learn that the element we destroyed was one of eight units established to strike fear into the plains and disrupt the outer supply chain. My hunch about the river being the lifeblood was correct. The Voice created an economic depression in order to solidify his rule.
"This is why I love elves," Glory Beard mentioned. "That raid was near flawless!"
"We still lost some good gnomes," I said. How do division commanders do it? How do company commanders do it? How often do they second guess themselves? What if they had trained a little more? What if they had done X instead of Y?
Glory Beard gave me a fatherly look. I knew he was older than me, but I didn't realize how much.
"This is your first command, is it?"
I nodded silently.
"It never gets easier," he warned.
"Gee, thanks," I said.
"My Dude, may I blunt?" Glory Beard asked.
"I not only expect it Champion, but I demand it." I tried to sound as kingly as possible. I wanted the blunt truth. I needed the blunt truth.
"You are not a god. You cannot know everything. Quit moping as if you could have done better than what was done. You led a brilliant ambush, and you lost so few gnomes. Yes, they were fine gnomes, but they died doing what they asked to do. They died freeing slaves. Get the pity dick out of your mouth, and be, as you put it, a fucking king."
I was speechless. Glory Beard was so proper and reserved usually.
"When this campaign is over, if you and I survive, we will raise a mug to their sacrifice and their memory. We will commission a bard to write a song to their actions. We will honor them. You, moping now, serves no one but yourself."
"Fuck's sake, dude, I got it," I said.
He nodded and then resumed his normal demeanor.
I was riding Rover, and Glory Beard was riding Donnerhuf. We were ahead of the vanguard but not ahead of the scouts.
I looked up and saw the scouts were running back toward us.
Glory Beard saw it as well.
We looked at each other and rode forward to meet them.
"My Dude, My Champion," the first scout said, completely out of breath.
"Catch your breath," Glory Beard said.
He took four or five very deep breaths and then spit out, "We see the walls of Teletha, but," he said, swallowing another breath, "there are at least three hundred oraks guarding the entrances. Both the northwest and midgate are completely defended."
"Three hundred?" I asked in disbelief.
"At each gate, My Dude," the scout responded.
Gnome scouts, like all good scouts, didn't embellish. If the scout said three-hundred, then the answer was damn near three-hundred.
"It's safe to assume the other gates are guarded equally?" I asked Glory Beard, who nodded. "Fuck."
Glory Beard threw up his hand, and the gesture was repeated across the train. "With your permission, My Dude, I will set pickets, and prepare the planning table."
"Do it," I ordered. I just want to be perfectly clear, I ordered him in the same sense that a person orders a cat to go outside or do anything. Sure I said the words, but the fact was that if Glory Beard didn't want to do it, to begin with, it wouldn't have happened.
Half an hour later, and I was sitting at the planning table, which was also the dining table. The steward had already prepared a snack, and my council was delighting in the delicacy. I had no idea what the delicacy was, but it was delicious.
A map of Teletha city sat before us. On it were several carved figurines representing the various forces. I wasn't sure how, but they even made little elf figures and a boat. There was also an almost perfect representation of an M4.
"We are outnumbered at each gate," Glory Beard said, "Not to mention the ability of each gate to undoubtedly send reinforcements if they are attacked. Once again, a frontal assault is ill-advised."
I crossed my arms and nodded. I never expected to be able to assault Teletha.
"Sewers?" I asked. I would love to say that my idea was original, but ever since we started going toward Teletha, visions of the Red Keep sprang to mind.
"There are sewers," Glory Beard said, "but I don't know where they are located."
"Damn," I said.
Arsch looked up, "We should be able to find them."
"What?" Shimone asked.
"What?" I responded to his question.
Elly translated, and I swear I could see lightbulb shine in Shimone's mind. He pointed to the map and then pressed his finger down along the wall every fifty meters or so while speaking.
"He says there are water drains at the base of the walls every fifty paces or so. They are barred," Elly translated.
"How big?" I asked.
Elly translated the question and answer. "A gnome could fit through them, but a human or elf would take some time and a lot of noise."
A plan began to formulate in mind, but I needed more information. Teletha was a walled city, and as such, had tall walls all around it. Crazy, I know.
"How many guards on the ramparts?" I asked.
"One per twenty paces or so," Glory Beard responded, recalling the full scout report.
"How many gnomes can we get through a grate at a time?" I asked Shimone.
"Two," Shimone responded via Elly.
"Figure thirty seconds per gnome, times two comes out to fifteen seconds per gnome, so four per minute means in ten minutes, I could have forty gnomes through a grate. If we did three grates, that's one-twenty, which means we could have a sizeable force on
the other side of a wall in a matter of minutes," I said.
"What's a second?" Glory Beard asked, trying to desperately pronounce the word. I had heard him use the word second several times, but it was always in the iterative since.
Elly, who had been around me enough, said, "A unit of time, like a quarter sky, but smaller."
I was amazed the Telethans still didn't have a standard unit of time measurement. They had hourglasses, but each one was different. Or I guess they weren't hourglasses so much as just random time measurement thingies that had no exact standard.
"We get the gnomes on the other side of the wall in an area far away from a gate. The gnomes take out any guards, drop a rope, and the rest of us head in—no fighting the douche of oraks, and no alerting the entire city," I said proudly.
"Sounds like it could work," Glory Beard said.
"And the wagons?" Arsch asked.
"We stash them. This is an all or nothing fight," I said.
Glory Beard nodded, "Then it decided. At sundown, we assault."
I smiled.
"Serge!" Glory Beard called for his steward.
The steward ran up and nodded.
"The cask of Diagont."
Serge left and returned with the cask and enough small glasses for everyone to drink. He tapped the cask, poured the clear liquid, and the proferred a glass to each of us.
"To the death of The Voice, and the downfall of Bolokbal!" Glory Beard toasted.
We all clinked and shot.
It was vodka—good vodka, but nothing special.
We dispersed to make preparations for the assault, stash the wagons, and hobble the animals. Most animals. Rover and the many battlegoats were set loose with specific instructions to not leave the area. Rover licked my face and then nuzzled against Elly.
Several hours later, and the sun finally made its descent behind the horizon. At the exact same time, which I thought was a little strange, the moon made its way up, full and bright.
Arsch and Shimone led the entire army to the side of the wall. Guards were stationed every hundred meters or so and weren't very interested in what was happening outside the walls. Sneaking in was not difficult.
I watched as the last gnome scurried through the storm drain and out of sight. The holes in the grates were only about six inches square, but the gnomes fit easily.
We waited less than three minutes before a rope dropped down.
The walls to the city weren't shear or slick, and climbing up the wall wasn't exactly difficult.
The elves and I made it up in a couple of minutes and immediately got a bearing of our surroundings.
We were on top of the wall, overlooking one of the peasant areas of the city. I looked for guards to my left and right but saw just two blobs lying on the stone.
"Look?" Elly called with a panicked voice.
I brought my M4 up reflexively and looked for the danger.
All of the elves were staring into the sky.
I followed their gaze and gasped. The moon had turned a dark blood red.
A booming voice echoed throughout the city, "Citizens of Teletha, head The Voice of Bolokbal! Submit yourself. Mark yourself with the green hand. Mark your doors. Do so, and you will be saved."
"That can't be good," I noted.
A wave of crushing fear erupted over the city. It was an irrational fear. It was similar to the fear I experienced right before a jump. OK, maybe jumping out of a perfectly good airplane deserves a little fear, but the chances of your chute not opening are really slim.
I heard some quivering from the gnomes below, and even one of the elves started to panic a little.
I sucked in a deep breath, grabbed my balls, and shouted, "Bolokbal is a pussy!"
I heard a little laughter come from below, as the gnomes started to shrug off the fear.
"Was that magic?" I asked no one in particular.
"A fear spell," Elly said. "I've heard of them, but never one so large and so easily dismissed."
"Well, you know," I said as cockily as possible.
She rolled her eyes.
We started to make our way down the wall to meet up with gnomes when I heard another noise. In the far distance, I could hear bells ringing over and over as if some asshole was just tugging on the ropes.
I turned my attention in their direction, fearing we had been discovered when I saw a glow on the horizon near where the river bisected the city.
The glow grew brighter, and I saw other glows begin to manifest.
"I think that's our cue," I said.
Elly nodded and ran down the stairs to the ground. I was close behind her.
"OK, Arsch," I said, "Lead the way."
Arsch nodded and took off ahead of the army.
I don't need to remind you, Arsch is a Scoutmaster.
The army followed him. Against my numerous complaints, I was not at the front. Glory Beard, Elly, and Arsch all ganged up on me to make me stay near the front third. The elves were acting as my fucking PSD.
For you fucking civilians who don't know what a PSD is, it’s that group of dumbfuck mudpuppies who guard generals or other VIPs when they pretend to be a real soldier. In fact, I once had a PSD clear a house I had already had my squad clear. It made me a little upset, to say the least.
We had a lot of things going for us while we made our way toward the center and the tower, where I was a pretty sure asshole was. First, every citizen in the city heard The Voice, so naturally, they all did what any rational person would do, they drew a green hand on their door and boarded up the windows. Definitely couldn't blame them.
Second, there was a sizeable force of gnomes, all with weapons and armor, running down the street with blood in their eyes. People don't typically stand in the way of large armed organizations.
We had been walking without incident for three hours. The bells never ceased, and we even heard at least one large explosion.
About half a click outside of the parade ground, near The Tower of the Archmage, Arsch stopped us. He ran up to the HQ element and said with fear in his voice, "There's at least two hundred knights. All of them are armored, have shields and swords. It's like they are his personal guard or something. There's also forty archers, and probably twice that many pikemen."
I didn't want to show worry, but that was a lot more than I expected.
"Worst yet, there's something weird. He's got five people chained to posts around a giant brazier."
"That doesn't sound good," I said.
"Evil magic," Glory Beard said, and then spit.
Chapter 44
We didn’t have time to formulate a plan, because just as Arsch told us about the evil magic, The Voice yelled, “Destroy them!”
I have no idea how he saw us because we were not in the line of sight, but I definitely know he was talking about us, because a moment later, I heard the clinking of armor rushing straight down the street in our direction.
“Schildkrote!” Glory Beard yelled.
The order must have been gnomish for get into a tight formation with spears sticking out of a whole bunch of shields. It reminded me of one of that cool Spartan thing at the end of 300.
I quickly surveyed the tactical situation. Glory Beard had the gnomes handled and was ready to meet the enemy sword to sword. I could offer a little support in my position, but I wanted to get to higher ground. Looking around, I spotted a three-story building, the tallest in the area, and immediately set out for the green hand covered door.
Now, normally in a place like Iraq or Afghanistan, I would gently knock on the door and ask the homeowner if I could come in. I was a little less polite that night.
I walked up to the door and gave it a hard Spartan kick. The door wasn’t one of those reinforced deals that they had on banks or whatever; it was just a normal door made out of some sort of pinewood. So instead of the door flying open, my foot went into it.
I heard a loud scream on the other side, followed by some whimpers.
I yanked my
foot back and almost tripped. Thankfully Elly was there to assist me.
The elf swordsman brought his grass blade up and easily sliced through the remainder of the wood.
We barged in the house like robbers in the night, and I felt guilty for scaring the shit out of the family, but it couldn’t be helped. I looked over and saw the father with a large knife guarding his family.
“You’ll be safe, just don’t attack us. We just want to use your roof!” I said, running past him.
I hoped he didn’t do something stupid.
We ran upstairs and then climbed a ladder to the loft at the top. It was a thatched roof, so we just cut holes in it, and the elves helped the two archers and me up. My wife and her comrades stayed below
I turned my PEQ-15 on, ensured my monocle was in place and scanned the street.
The Telethans weren’t idiots. They had the archer numbers and knew it.
The front rank of the Telethans was a shield wall. The second and third ranks were pikemen. The fourth and subsequent ranks were archers. It looked like they could only fit about ten men abreast on the road.
The melee might support the gnomes, which were shorter, and had much greater melee numbers. Unfortunately, the gnomes only had a few slings from what I could tell, and rocks weren’t going to do much against the armor.
I looked at our two bowmen, “Aim for their archers!”
The elves didn’t hesitate. With their keen eyesight, elevated position, and adrenaline coursing through their veins, the elves began loosing arrows at a ridiculous speed. They were easily sending twenty arrows a minute. Unfortunately, they only carried around thirty or so.
I centered my laser on the chest of a man in the rear who seemed to be giving orders and fired.
He dropped like a rag doll.
I then started Sergeant Yorking the archers. The back rank was destroyed so quickly they didn’t realize what hit them.
My two archers also did a very good job of killing their fair share.
I looked down at the gnomes and saw one single body lying on the ground with an arrow through his eye. It must have been a lucky shot and gotten through the cracks between shields.
One of the archers looked over and said something in gnomish.
Glory Beard looked up from behind a shield and smiled. He then yelled, “Anschlag!”
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