Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1

by Doug Dandridge

  “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” said Levine, smiling as he unbuckled his seat belt and pushed his door open. Numerous other people were leaving their cars, while some continued to sit in them, staring at the world with shocked expressions on their faces. “There aren’t any buildings, if you noticed, so we are surely not in Munich. Nor any shattered buildings and rubble, so we are also not in nuclear ravaged Munich.”

  “Then where are we?” asked Kurt, pushing his own door open. Some of the people who had left their cars were staggering around out there, and he saw blood on the faces and clothes of a few of them. But no noticeable burns from nuclear fire. It was as if the wash of heat and radiation had not touched those who had been transported to wherever they were.

  Kurt stood by the car and watched as a policeman left his car and ran to a small gathering of people, to kneel beside a man who had fallen to the ground. The policeman reached to his side and pulled his radio away from his belt, called into it, and shook his head as nothing answered.

  “The gravity seems lighter,” said Levine, walking around the car to stand beside his German friend. “And that sun seems a little too bright.”

  “I feel stronger,” said the big German, reaching down and planting his hands on the bumper of the car, lifting. It rose up as if a tow truck were lifting it into the air.. “And not from any reduction in gravity. I feel like I am bursting with energy.” He released and let the rear end drop back to the ground.

  “Like Superman coming to Earth,” said Levine with a laugh, watching as more people wandered from under the trees, starting to gather and engage in confused conversations.

  “I don’t feel quite that strong,” said the German, flexing his muscles. “But it seems pretty obvious that we’re not on Earth anymore. Which means that the dreams and visions were right?”

  “We don’t know that either,” said Levine, looking up to the sky. He pointed up at a dot moving in their direction. “But I think it might be, assuming that’s what I think it is.”

  Kurt followed his gaze and swore under his breath. He strained his eyes. The object leapt into focus as his better than human vision brought it into clarity. A large golden colored reptilian creature was heading toward them, its huge spread of wings beating the air.

  “We need to get these people under cover,” yelled Kurt, his eyes sweeping the glade which was filling with folk. “That thing will slaughter them.”

  “I don’t think so,” said the ancient immortal.

  “You think it’s friendly?” asked Kurt, watching the creature grow in size.

  “You should be able to feel it too,” said Levine, closing his eyes. “Focus your mind. Concentrate on its energies.”

  Kurt looked over at his friend with a quizzical gaze. Looking back up at the monster he could feel something radiating from it. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the image of the dragon. And was startled as an energy signature registered in his mind. A feeling of the soul of the creature. Not an evil feeling, like the beast in his dream. It was more of a clean feel, to match the cleanliness of the air around him.

  Kurt opened his eyes as he heard the rising of voices from the glen. Shouting and fearful cries. He opened his eyes and saw that the people around him were looking into the sky, some pointing at the dragon as it began to drop lower, intently heading for the field. Several began to run, soon followed by more. Some helped those who could not walk on their own to the edge of the trees, while most ran in a panic. The policeman he had seen earlier drew his pistol and raised it into the air, taking aim on the looming giant.

  “Don’t,” yelled Levine, gesturing at the policeman. The man looked at him for a second, his eyes wide with fear in a panicked face. Then he turned his face back to the dragon and aimed the pistol at it.

  Kurt ran at the man, feeling the strength in his muscles as they propelled him across the grassy expanse. He ran as a cheetah ran, closing the distance with incredible speed, the wind rushing through his hair and past his ears. He was a long lived man on Earth, stronger than most. Here he was a demigod, with the strength of Heracles, the speed of Hermes. He reached the policeman as the man squeezed off his first shot. The pistol flew from the man’s hand as Kurt hit the barrel, landing fifty yards away in the grass.

  “Why did you do that?” asked the policeman, turning toward Kurt, then looking up at the descending dragon. One look was all it took for the policeman to turn and run for the forest, joining the rest of the refugees in flight from the monster.

  “I think he would need a twenty millimeter to hurt that thing,” said the big German, looking back at his friend. “Or maybe an eighty-eight. But no use taking the chance that he might piss it off.”

  Levine nodded and looked back up at the dragon, who had spread its wings and was gliding toward the ground.

  Kurt watched as the monster came to ground, heavy clawed feet striking the earth with a thud. He was aware that Levine was now standing by his side, intently studying the beautiful golden creature that seemed less than monstrous even while it towered over the humans. The sunlight shone from its scales, while huge orbs of sky blue looked down on them.

  The dragon rumbled a word and swept a clawed hand through the air. It seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, like a desert mirage. And in the shimmer it began to shrink in upon itself, until within seconds it formed a glowing ball about two meters in diameter. And from this ball stepped the form of a woman.

  But like no woman that Kurt had ever seen. Her skin was a golden tan, while waist length hair of spun gold blew in the breeze. The same sky blue eyes, now human sized, looked out from the finely featured face. A gown of cloth of gold held tight to the luscious curves of her body.

  Kurt felt the touch of her mind on his. At first he sent up a barrier, not knowing how he did it but knowing that it was powerful enough to stop her intrusion. But feeling the goodness that radiated from the goddess, for such he knew her to be, he allowed the barrier to drop. He felt the probing at his mind, gently touching his surface thoughts and going no deeper.

  “You have really come,” said the golden woman in a musical voice. “I was not sure it would ever happen, even though the mistress said it would. But it has, and the prophecies are fulfilled.”

  “You speak German,” said Kurt, surprise in his voice.

  “I learned your language from your mind,” said the woman. “Though I could talk with such as you directly, mind to mind, I felt this would be more comfortable to your perception.”

  “And who might you be?” asked Levine, his voice cutting through the hypnotic power of the woman.

  “You would call me an angel, Ismael Levine,” said the woman. “One of the servants of Arathonia, the Queen of the Gods of Life of this world. My given name is Melatafolis, a messenger of the queen.”

  “And what is this prophecy of which you speak?” asked the ancient immortal.

  “That people of your race would come to this world, to battle the evil that is entrenched in the black hearts of the worshippers of Death.”

  “I assure you, my good woman,” said Kurt, looking around the glen and noting that the Germans were starting to gather near the edge of the forest, “that we are not all saints, come to lead your holy light to triumph.”

  “There will be evil among you, yes,” said the woman, nodding. “There are members of your race who have lived on this planet for thousands of years. Tens of thousands of years. Some are good, some evil, many are gray in that they do not embrace either creed. We expect much the same of you. But you two are the leaders we have expected. Those touched by the Gods of your world, to bring your power to this world. You and some others who have traveled with you.”

  “And what are we to do?” asked Kurt. “We know nothing of this world.”

  “You must do what you must do to protect your people,” said the angel, her eyes boring into his. “You must protect those who came with you, that they may grow into a mighty people, who can wrest these lands from those who would desecrate them.
You must use the powers that have come with you, the great machines of war, and quickly, for they will only be of use for a limited time. And then you must train your people to use the powers of this land, along with the knowledge you bring from your own world, to fight and defeat our common enemy.”

  The woman backed away from them and spread her arms into the air. The men covered their eyes as she began to glow with a golden light, turning into a sphere of power that grew into a monstrous globe. The globe flared for a moment, then disappeared, and the great dragon stood before them once more.

  “Wait,” yelled Levine, waving at the great creature. “We have more questions for you.”

  “And I will answer more questions in due time,” said the dragon in a deep rumbling voice. “But now I must go, to see to others of your race who have appeared on our world. I will come back when I may, when you need me most. Be of stout heart, Kurt von Mannerheim and Ismael Levine. You have a world before you that will be a better place for your having come here.”

  The dragon stretched its wings and brought them down with tremendous fury, springing into the air. Kurt and Levine covered their eyes from the blowing dirt that filled the air around them. When they could open their eyes again the dragon was far into the sky, flying away.

  Kurt looked around as the people in the forest began to move out from under the trees, looking fearfully into the sky. Hundreds left the shelter, while thousands more stayed under cover.

  “We need to see to the needs of these people,” said Levine.

  “Do you believe this prophecy of the dragon angel?” asked Kurt, moving back to the car, heading for the trunk.

  “It doesn’t really matter,” said the ancient immortal, looking out over the field and the confused people who were gathering. “We have to see to the needs of the people first. All else will come from that act.”

  * * *

  “Father,” said the beautiful Ellala Princess Lissindra Kjanara of the Kingdom of Lianardas, walking into her father’s council chambers. “They have come, as promised in the prophecy.”

  “And you know this how, Princess?” asked one of the councilors, his eyes narrowed.

  “The Goddess herself told me,” said the woman, who was also a powerful priestess of Arathonia. “She said that they are now upon this planet. Some few in our lands. Many more to the north, on the plains of the nomads. And still more within the lands of our enemies.”

  “And where are the ones we would seek,” said King Lissandra Kjanara, his youthful face lined with tense worry, but a smile starting to break through.

  The Princess’ heart went out to her father, who had fought many wars against the evil Ellala Emperor through the last half dozen centuries. Wars he had always lost, seeing many of his bravest warriors going into the dark, and many loyal subjects trade his overlordship for that of a tyrant. He has been waiting for this news for his entire life. Goddess grant that it comes to pass as we hope.

  “The one who is said to be the immortal leader of the humans will be to the west, in the lands of the evil ones,” she said in a rush of speech. To a non-Elf it sounded like a rush of high pitched sound, the burst speech used by her people in talking to one another. She remembered that there were Dekefin in the room, the ebony skinned cousins of her people, who did not use that dialect of speech, as well as a Dimikran emissary that could not even hear in that range. She said the words again in a more normal tone.

  “An immortal human,” said one of the councilors in a disbelieving tone. “What is he? A damned Lich like the evil one wishes to be.”

  “The Goddess told me he was an immortal human,” said the Priestess, putting her hands on her hips and shooting the councilor a sharp look. “She said nothing of Liches. And did you expect these saviors to be Ellala. Nothing was said in the prophecy of them being of our people.”

  “And nothing was said of them not being Ellala,” said the councilor, a pouting expression on his face. “Humans are weak and treacherous, and not to be trusted.”

  “The Goddess trusts them,” said the Princess. “And that should be good enough.”

  “And in our dealings with humans,” said the Dimikran emissary in his deep rumbling voice, “we have found some to be brave and trustworthy, and some to be cowardly and not to be trusted. Much like the Ellala we deal with.” The Dwarf gave the councilor a stern look of his own.

  Lissindra wondered for a moment if the Dimikran and the minister might come to blows in the chamber. She did not think it would suit the councilor. Ellala were faster and more graceful than the squat underground dwellers. But the Dimikran made up for it in strength and toughness, and in a close quarters fight without weapons she would have bet on the Dwarf, despite the councilor’s knowledge of Ja-Saladan, the Ellala hand to hand fighting style.

  “Silence,” yelled the King, looking at the councilor. He then looked over at the Dimikran noble in the rich silken robes he had been gifted by the king. “I beg your pardon my good Darilos. Your point is well taken.” He looked over the council table. “Humans come in all shades of gray, as do all peoples. I would trust that the Goddess would not put our fate in the hands of a scoundrel. And that is all I will say on the matter.

  “Send a delegation to these people to the north of us, these…”

  “Poles they are called, my father,” said the Princess.

  “What a strange name,” said the King. “But I wish for our hand to be offered in friendship. And all aid to be offered to these newcomers.”

  “And the ones to the west?” asked one of the other councilors. “The ones in the land of the evil ones.”

  “Send a regiment of my border cavalry to them,” said the King, looking at the leader of his army. “What is the best unit we have near our border?. One that could be across without our enemies knowing of it. Until we are ready to strike.”

  “High Commander Fenris Hallanta’s unit is the best we have,” said the army commander. “And they are in the best position. Maybe that is somehow due to the Goddess.”

  Not Fenris, thought the Princess, her hands flying to her mouth. Not my beloved.

  “I am sorry my daughter,” said the King, turning his compassionate eyes on her. “Fenris is the best. And he is the man on the scene. And I am sure that he will accomplish the mission and come back to us.”

  “Yes father,” she said, knowing that the decision was made and would not be unmade. Her father would not do anything to hurt her, and she knew that he liked the brash commander of cavalry that was her betrothed. But the King would do what was best for his people, no matter the cost to himself or his family. Which was what made him a king the people were willing to follow to hell. All of his people, including Fenris. Including her.

  “Then let us put things in motion,” said the King, slapping his hand on the table. “If the prophecy has finally come, let us not waste it.”

  Men pushed their chairs back and moved from the chamber, putting the words of the monarch into motion.

  Chapter Four

  Captain Antwoine McGurk pulled his hands down from his eyes and stared in disbelief at the scene that greeted him. He was expecting to see a blasted landscape, if he saw anything at all after being washed with nuclear fire. Instead he found himself staring from an undamaged face at a scene of rare beauty.

  His cavalry troop had been on the reverse slope of a hill north of Berlin when the three weapons within range had gone off. Now they were sitting on the side of a cobblestone track that ran between the trees of an endless forest to the rear. Just ahead were the perfectly tended fields of farming country, with cows and sheep grazing in open pastures, and a cluster of pleasant looking houses and barns about a kilometer to his front. People were gathering in that small village, while other figures hurried from the nearby fields. Many were pointing at the collection of tanks and APCs that were near the road.

  As the Captain watched one of the people mounted a horse and rode away swiftly in the opposite direction. The Captain pulled his field glasses and put t
hem to his dark face, focusing on a distant structure on a hill about three kilometers away. A castle sprung into view, similar to one of the capital castles he had seen in Germany, the homes of the rulers of one of the many small kingdoms of the sixteenth and seventeenth century lands of the Deutsch. But this was not the land of the Deutsch. Of that he was sure.

  “Those people look kind of odd, sir,” said Sergeant Ramirez, the tank’s gunner, leaning onto the lip of his hatch and focusing another pair of binoculars on the people of the village.

  McGurk swung his own glasses toward the people and grunted when they came into focus. They seemed kind of small in reference to the wheels of the nearby wagons, the cows and the horses. Like children, or…

  “Hobbits,” said the Captain, a smile coming to his face.

  “Sir?” asked the gunner, looking over at the troop leader with a confused expression on his face.

  “You ever read Lord of the Rings, Ramirez?” asked the Captain.

  “I saw the movies,” said the Hispanic NCO.

  “Close enough,” said the Captain. “They look a lot like the little people from those stories.”

  “They look pretty harmless, sir,” said the gunner, nodding toward the village.

  “Hey McGurk,” came a voice over the radio/intercom. “You there?” The voice sounded very faint, with much more static than would be expected of the sophisticated communications system. Even if the atmosphere was roiled from multiple nuclear blasts.

  “That you, Taylor?” he asked, thinking he recognized the commander of D troop.

  “It’s me,” agreed the voice. “I thought we’d had it back there,” said Captain Taylor over the com. “What the hell happened anyway?”

  “A miracle,” said McGurk, crossing himself as he thought back to his early teaching in the Catholic Church. “We were about to be incinerated. And now we’re here instead. I call that good enough to be a miracle.”