Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1

by Doug Dandridge

  * * *

  Beate Terbourg sat on the blanket in the yard outside of Soegel Church, soaking up the rays as she played with the kittens in the box. It would soon be time to look for homes for the little ones, who were sucking at the teats of Gertrude, the mama cat. She had thought it would be good to get them out of the house and into the open air for a while. She also thought they would not fight the process so much when she finally tried to give them away. She loved cats, having four of them in her home. She also loved kittens, but was not willing to raise four more to adulthood in her small apartment,

  Something roared overhead, and she looked up to see a flight of aircraft cruising high in the sky, leaving white contrails behind. She frowned as she watched them move across the sky, remembering the stories her mom told her of when the Americans had a base in this tiny Northern German town. There was nothing much there now to make it a target. As small a nation as Germany was that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be affected by something going off over another village, or a near miss that made them the target.

  “Liebchen,” said a familiar voice, and she turned her head to find herself looking into the smiling face of her lover, Gerhardt Steiner.

  She flashed him a quick smile, and took her hand out of the box, raising it into the air so the man could plant a kiss on it. He didn’t disappoint, and elegantly raised her hand to place that kiss.

  “When are you due back at University?” she asked, a worried expression crossing her face.

  “Not till this craziness is over,” said the young man, who was studying geology at the University of Hamburg. “They see no need to keep us cooped up in dorms and study halls when Armageddon is on the horizon.”

  “Do you think it is really going to happen?” she asked, images of what she thought a war would be like flashing through her mind. As far as she knew no one in the entire nation knew what war looked like. Except for those men that Germany kept sending on peacekeeping missions around the world that were anything but. All in the name of expunging the national guilt over what had been done before any of the citizens alive today were born. Plain madness, as far as she was concerned. She didn’t see the Americans fretting over the way they had handled their Negroes or the Indians in the past. Now they just treated them like people.

  “Yes,” said Gerhardt after more than a moment’s silence. “I think it is going to happen.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the Russians are mad, the Americans are mad, the Poles are mad and we are mad,” said the man, shaking his head. “And nobody thinks the other is mad enough to pull the trigger. But they are all wrong.”

  “I’m so glad you weren’t called up for military service,” said Beate, running a hand over Gerhardt’s face.

  “I have to do government service when I graduate,” said the man, putting his hand over hers. “That may not be a picnic.”

  “But better than being on the front lines right now,” said Beate, shaking her head.

  “I don’t know that there is a front line in this situation,” said the young man, looking to the sky.

  Beate thought about that for a moment. She remembered the stories her great grandmother had told her, about watching the bomber streams flying over high above. The contrails of hundreds of aircraft, thousands further away, blending with the smaller contrails of German fighters battling their American counterparts. A terrible battle in the air as the Americans, and the British at night, drove into Germany with their payloads of destruction, to ravage whole cities with fire and death. And today? Today one bomber or missile could do that to a city and more.

  She reached back into the box and picked up a mewing kitten. She held it close to her, sorry that it had to be born into such a world. And she felt sorry that she had been born into such a world as well.

  Chapter Three

  “It is almost time,” said the Conyastaya Priestess Leinora Glassandora to the men and women who were gathered in the secret glade. She looked up at the pines stretching into the sky above her, hearing the whispering wind that blended with the bubbling spring that sat in the center of the small opening. And the death worshippers would destroy this beautiful place if they found it. And kill me and everyone with me if they knew what we plotted.

  “How do you know it’s time?” said the Hunt Leader Lasadara Klinisura, looking up at the Priestess from his seat on the ground. “The Goddess knows I wish it was. But what proof do we have?”

  “What proof, brother,” she said to the local leader of the resistance that she also shared a father with. It wasn’t the same as if they had shared mothers in their matrilineal society. And they hadn’t shared a childhood, he being a century and a half her senior. But the resistance had brought them close.

  “Yes?” asked the hunt leader, looking around from face to face. Most gathered here were the Elves of the woods, though a couple of the Gimikrans shared their council. “We have had so many false alarms in the past. So many false prophets. So many dreams that turned out to be planted by the death worshippers, so that they could trap us. So what is different this time?”

  “Besides my having dreams that touched the life mother?” said the Priestess with a slanting of her head. “Dreams which I will vouch came from Arathonia herself?”

  “Yes,” said the hunt leader, who by his title was secular leader of a dozen forest villages, none of which were known to the minions of the Empire. Which was in and of itself quite an accomplishment. “Besides that.”

  Leinora gave him a sharp look and said a quick prayer. She glowed with power for a moment, dispelling the doubts of any that she was touched by the Goddess.

  “I mean no disrespect,” said her brother, giving the hand gesture of agreement. “But before I lead my men in revolt I would know for sure that we will meet with success.”

  “There is no guarantee of success,” said the Priestess, making the hand gesture of negation. “Not even the Gods have the ability to do that. The Gods can only provide the means, then it is up to us to do the work. And still nothing is guaranteed. But there is one more piece of evidence.”

  The Priestess pulled a glowing globe from the bag hanging from her shoulder and held it into the air. Light projected from the globe and an image formed in the air. The image of one of their ancestral enemies. But not an enemy at all.

  “The seer,” said Lasadara, his eyes widening. “The Grogatha of the decade.”

  “The very same,” said the Priestess, looking at the image of the Orc that only a dozen trusted people in the resistance knew. “And he presented the Emperor with a vision two days ago.”

  “And the vision said?” asked one of the Forest Dwarves, a Priest of the Goddess Rhalina, she of the spring and new life.

  “What the vision said, my good Fringal,” said the Priestess, looking at the Gimikran,“is that the time of the prophecy is here. That the humans are coming, and the immortals with them. And they will be coming in great numbers.”

  “How great?” asked one of the other hunt leaders.

  “Tens of thousands,” said the priestess with a smile. “Millions. Who knows.”

  “And they will need our aid?” said Lasadara, looking over at the others.

  “And they will need our aid,” agreed the Priestess. “The more of them the better it will be, in the long run. But it may be a strain on our resources at first.”

  “The seven hells with a strain on our resources,” said the hunt leader, raising a fist into the air. “We can damned sure get through the year with extra mouths to feed. If those mouths bring us freedom.”

  “Then be prepared to move,” said the Priestess with a smile. “We’re not sure of the day of arrival. Or the place. Just that it will be soon, and that some of the people we are expecting will be near. Beyond that, get the word out to all who follow you, that we may give the newcomers the strength to survive in this world, that they may fulfill the prophecy.”

  There was much smiling and talking around the glade as she finished her speech. And she wo
ndered how many of these people would be alive to see the promised freedom. And how many would die, before that freedom was realized? And would she be one or the other.

  * * *

  The first warhead went off over a suburb of Moscow. Whether it was a Chechnyan Rebel, a Russian Republicanist, or some other party did not really matter. The Russians were monitoring NATO aircraft near their airspace, and an officer in their missile forces decided it must have been the Western powers. Tactical weapons flew into Poland, followed by a response of tactical weapons into the Ukraine, followed by an exchange of strategic weapons.

  It was also not known who started the response in Asia. What mattered was that Japan got into a three way shoot-out with North Korea and China. In the Middle East Iran decided that the time was ripe to hit Israel. Israel hit back, harder. In all thousands of weapons went off around the world. The immediate death toll was over a billion. Billions more would die in the weeks and months to follow. From radiation and the disruption of food and other necessary services. And millions would simply disappear. To the people of Earth they were simply more casualties.

  * * *

  Girison Totrural was going through a difficult night. He normally slept very well after a day of work, then settling disputes between the other villagers of his tribe, then prayers to the God and what healing needed doing in a farming village in mountainous terrain. And there were always plenty of small injuries to go around, as well as some of the more major ones. Sometimes even beyond his and his Yanon given abilities, and then there were the last rites of his people to perform.

  And the declaration from the duke was still on his mind. The evil Ellala bastard didn’t care if his Gimikran subjects suffered under his demands. They were nothing to him but the source of his riches, and he would always increase his demands. The Gimikran did all they could to hide some away, and were mostly successful. But those who were caught doing so became horrible examples to the rest of them.

  Girison also had to worry that the duke and his men might find out about his connection to the forbidden God. At least forbidden by the damned death worshipers of this Gods damned Empire. They thought him little more than a village chieftain, the one who passed down their orders and made sure they were obeyed. If they ever had suspicion of his primary calling he also would suffer a horrible death, his soul ripped from his body and fed to the damned Bothar. That was a constant worry, but what else could he do but give succor to the sick and lame.

  He knew it was close to morning when the dream came. The Goddess Arathonia herself, wife and master of Yanon, appeared to him in the dream in all her glory. A beautiful Ellala woman was her image, clothed in light, a sign that not all of that race were evil, not even the most.

  They are coming, said the clear musical voice in his vision. You must prepare yourself to aid them, for they will be in a land they cannot comprehend, and they must be protected until they have the wherewithal to strike back.

  But if they are so weak, how can they be of aid to us? he thought through the dream.

  They are not weak, replied the Goddess, a smile on her face. They have a strength you cannot imagine. And wonders that have never before been seen upon this world. Wonders that will never appear again. But they will be confused.

  We will do as you command, my Goddess, said the Gimikran Priest, who was both a healer and warrior of the God of Healing. We will succor these newcomers and help them to survive.

  You are a good and humble servant of my husband, Yanon, said the Goddess, her smile turning the dreamscape into a radiant image. And there is one more thing.

  Yes, my Goddess.

  There are two peoples that will come to this area. They will be elite warriors of the Germans and the Americans.

  Germans and Americans, thought the Priest. What strange names.

  There is one among the Americans that will become a priest of my husband, if he so desires. I wish for you to train him, for I see him becoming mighty in the ways of priestly magic.

  Don’t these newcomers have priests and mages of their own?

  They have machines, said the Goddess. And wondrous science. These they use in the stead of magic. Still, they will need to develop what they don’t have. And I charge you with developing this one. And a name appeared in the mind of the Gimikran Priest. Remember, said the Goddess, and her image faded.

  Girison woke with a start, the knowledge of the dream etched forever in his mind. He looked out and saw that the sky was starting to lighten with the predawn. He pulled himself from his bed, looking back at it for an instant and still feeling the emptiness that the lack of his late wife made in his heart. One day, he thought, as he started pulling on his clothes, then sweeping away the dirt from the hatch that covered his weapons and armor. But he still hadn’t mourned enough in his mind, and anything less would be a betrayal as far as he was concerned.

  After belting on armor and strapping his mace to his belt he left his cabin. People already up and about stared at him, their expressions showing their fear that something bad was coming.

  “Gather, my people,” he said in his stentorian voice. “For I have something to tell you. Great times are here, and with it hope that we will throw off the yoke of our masters, forever.”

  * * *

  Kurt was driving back into Munich when the second exchange took place, strategic weapons aimed at the cities of the foe. The day was warm for fall, and he felt the sheen of sweat on his face even with the air blowing through the open windows. Levine was sitting in the passenger seat, not showing near the wear from their exercise that the big German did. But it had been a good workout, in the heavy armor, swinging the large weapons and working on their fighting techniques.

  “It’s happening,” said Levine, as the voice over the radio talked about the wave of nuclear blasts that were peppering Poland and the Ukraine. “The idiots are going to let it loose.”

  “Should we even be driving back into the city?” asked Kurt, watching the heavy traffic streaming out of town.

  “I don’t think we have anything to fear, my friend,” said the ancient immortal. “We have a destiny. Of that I am sure. We will be in the right place at the right time to accomplish what we need to accomplish. Believe that.”

  “And the need to practice with weapons in armor?”

  “It is always good to be prepared,” said Levine with a smile. “I was surprised by the quality of your equipment. Such strong alloys for play armor. And laser sharpened blades.”

  “Just a feeling,” said the German, shrugging his shoulders. “I thought they might come in useful someday, so I had them made. The same for you? I noticed that your equipment was also quite good.”

  “I had visions of something coming to pass,” said the Jew, looking out the window. “That the anachronistic equipment would be of value in the near future. So I had it made, as you. Of the finest quality.”

  “Well, we had better keep it near us at all times then,” said Kurt. “Otherwise we will go to whatever adventure you think is coming our way without our fine equipment. And after last night I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Another dream, my friend,” said Levine, looking over at the big German. Kurt nodded his head but kept his eyes forward to watch the road. “I have had them too,” continued Levine. “In the last I fought a Demon, of all things. Big bastard with horns and a spiked tail.”

  “A Demon,” snorted Kurt, glancing over at his friend. “Mine was a big bloody dragon. As big as a brontosaur, with wings. Breathing fire. And I was up against him with a sword, trying to cover myself with a shield.”

  “Hopefully that big bloody tower shield of yours,” said the ancient immortal with a laugh. “God knows it would take more than a little dragon breath to get through that alloy.”

  “Yes, I…

  Kurt blinked his eyes as the words failed him. Something bright flashed over the center of Munich, followed by a ball of fire. Buildings crumbled in the distance as the shock wave of the blast moved outwa
rd. A searing heat hit the car, and Kurt felt his skin begin the burn under the hellish temperature. His hands released the wheel of the BMW and he covered his eyes. The car bucked in the rising wind, then slammed into another vehicle. The German swore under his breath as he realized what had happened, and quickly determined that the dreams were complete shit. He was going to die on the autobahn, burned to a crisp, or blown away if the heat didn’t get him.

  Suddenly the heat was gone, along with the burning sensation. The car was moving forward, shaking and jumping as if the surface were now uneven. A front tire blew, and Kurt opened his eyes, the eyes he had thought were permanently blinded, and grabbed at the steering wheel while his mind tried to register the scene in front of him.

  The car was bumping along an open field with a line of trees at the far end. Dozens of other cars were also trying to negotiate the rough ground. Some were slowing down easily, while others, their drivers probably in shock, were continuing to move along at autobahn speeds. Several of these slid sideways and eventually stopped. A few fell over to the side, flipping and rolling along the soft ground. A couple of vehicles hit each other, hard, shattering glass and crumpling metal. Kurt pushed gently on the brakes of his BMW, which, aided by the friction of the flattened tire, slowed and stopped his car.

  “What the hell happened?” he cried, looking out the windows at the world revealed. There was a forest as far as he could see in every direction around the glade. The trees looked like trees he was used to seeing, oaks, pines, birches and such. There were maybe a few trees that looked exotic, but he was not a botanist, and really couldn’t say they were out of place. He picked up a few columns of smoke rising above the trees, and wondered about cars that might have materialized within the forest, running into the trunks of trees too large to knock down.