Then the world closed over him in blackness as they pulled him back under the trees.
* * *
Leutnant Franz Sturgil sat in the commander’s hatch of his Leopard 2A6E8, watching in disbelief as one of the hostiles flung a hand forward and a ball of fire flew through the air toward the tank of another platoon of his company. The ball hit, the tank went up in hot flames, and suddenly the affair was not so one sided. Within a minute that entire platoon was gone, as well as half the tanks of another platoon.
“Move up behind that mound,” he told his driver, before ordering the other three tanks in the platoon to find good firing positions. He wasn’t sure if they would last any longer than the other tanks that had been destroyed, once they opened fire on the enemy. But they couldn’t just stand around and worry about themselves. Especially since he had seen that their discarding sabot rounds penetrated whatever shield the enemy had up that stopped the smaller stuff.
Another tank flamed up as his got into position. He ordered the gunner to target the bastard in the ornate armor and robes who was doing the most damage. As the turret turned onto the target the hostile looked right at his tank and pulled his arm back, and Sturgil felt a chill run up his back as he stared his own death in the face..
“Fire,” he yelled over the circuit just as the arm came forward. The ball of fire left the man’s hand, expanding into a small sun that headed toward the tank. The Leopard bucked backwards as its main gun fired, and the discarding sabot round flew downrange at the target.
Will that magic ball disappear if we kill the thrower, thought the officer. He had to hope so. Otherwise they were probably dead, even if they got the magician. At that thought the fireball exploded in midair, and the tank round hit the ground near to the enemy, then ricocheted off of the invisible something into the air.
We hit the damned ball, thought Sturgil. He heard the gunner order another round from the loader, his crew going about their jobs. And noticed that the damned wizard was looking right at him and bringing his hand back behind him, a flaring light growing in his cupped palm.
“Back,” he ordered the driver. The tank lurched backwards, and the gunner struggled to keep the barrel of the main weapon on the enemy wizard, while the wizard started to bring his arm forward. The Leutnant wondered which would win the race, and whether he and his crew would be alive in another couple of seconds to see what happened.
That was when the mortars came down on the enemy. Six rounds exploded in the air as they hit the shield over the Elves. Some of the shrapnel made it through the barrier. Some of that hit the Elves, wounding several, including the chief who was in the middle of throwing a fireball. Which disappeared when he was hit in his throwing hand. A second volley of mortar rounds came in, followed by another. Then the larger artillery rounds came in from a battery several miles to the rear, and the damned Elves were pulling back from the field.
German soldiers stood up in their positions, cheering the repulse of their foe, and the artillery barrage lifted. The cheering turned to yelling and pointing as hundreds of figures with shields and hand weapons left the tree line and ran toward the German positions. The soldiers hit the ground once again and sent streams of rounds into the enemy, dropping dozens of them to the earth. But hundreds more enemy came out of the woods, and it looked as if there were a thousand still under the trees coming up.
“What the hell are those?” yelled one of the tank commanders on the platoon freq.
Sturgil wasn’t really sure what they were. He pulled out his fine German binoculars and focused them on one of the savage looking soldiers that were coming toward them. He saw that it was wearing an armor made of metal scales, held the round shield to its front, and carried a large, heavy looking ax in one hand. He moved the glasses up to the creature’s face and almost dropped the binoculars as that visage came into focus.
It was the face of a monster. Small pig like eyes glared redly out of a face of wrinkled yellow skin. A broad nose flared over the lips. The mouth opened in a cry and revealed yellow teeth, with two prominent tusks sticking upwards.
“Looks like a damned Orc,” said the officer under his breath.
“Sir,” said the gunner, popping his head up and focusing his own binoculars on one of the creatures.
“Looks like something from that damned Peter Jackson movie,” said the Leutnant, sweeping his binoculars toward another one. Not exactly, but close enough to make no difference. This is not to be believed, he thought. Was he going mad? Were they all? And more of the creatures came out of the woods.
We can handle this, thought Sturgil, watching as German soldiers continued to bring down the monstrous warriors that were running for them. It looked like they had the situation in hand as long as more of the damned mages didn’t come up to attack them. It didn’t look like any of the Orcs would make it to the German lines. All of the civilians would get away into the other side of the farmland, where other Germans from the brigade would shepherd them away.
And then the next horror struck. The Elves who had been brought down by artillery rose up from the earth and started walking toward the Germans. At first Sturgil thought they must have been wounded who had gotten the strength to move forward to the attack, much as Germans would in battle. He trained his glasses on one of the Elves and almost vomited on himself, keeping his gorge down by sheer determination. The man was obviously dead, with brains dripping from a cloven head and missing his left forearm. He shuffled forward, his spear gripped in his right hand, headed for the closest German soldier.
A machinegun hit the dead Elf across the chest, splattering blood and gore into the air as it hit the soldier who hadn’t had the best of their armor in life. The Elf fell backwards, then staggered back up to his feet and continued on, glazing eyes staring sightlessly into the distance. The Germans began to fidget as they continued to lay down fire, probably wondering how they were going to stop the enemies they had just killed.
The Leutnant swept his glasses around and found that many of the monstrous attackers had also been knocked down. They were back up with wounds that no living creature could carry and still move. Move they did, shambling forward after their still living companions as more of the Orcs came out of the woods. Arrows started falling around the infantry positions as the Elves in the woods kept up a barrage. A horn sounded and a troop of horsemen came from a road running into the woods. They came swiftly and rode toward the lines from another angle, lances tilted, while bowmen on horseback with them sent a galling fire of arrows ahead.
“They’re going to panic,” said Sturgil under his breath, feeling the panic welling up in him as well. He knew his tank would withstand whatever the foot soldiers, cavalry or undead could do, if the wizards stayed out of it. But the dead rising was almost more than he as a human being of Earth could handle. How could you win against a foe that could send his own dead against you? And then the lightning struck out of the heavens as the next attack of magic hit the Germans.
* * *
“By the gods,” yelled one of the mages as he almost fell over, his face covered in sweat.
“What’s wrong, Lellasal?” asked the Archduke, looking over at the Mage who had been casting necromancy spells on the field. The Archduke had been starting the initial ritual phrases of a magical strike that he hoped would discomfit the enemy.
“I was in the middle of binding the soul of one of their dead back to his body,” said the Mage, shaking his head, then putting his hands up to his forehead. “Nothing spectacular. I had just done it to another one of them with no problem. That soul had fought me, like they all do when they realize we are going to put them against their fellows, and maybe doom them to perdition. But this one was different.”
“How?”
“It didn’t struggle. There was a sense of peace about it, and it was fading fast from this plane. I grabbed hold of it with a spell and started the binding. When some power, a power like one of the Gods, only stronger, grabbed it away from me. There was a shock when it happened.
I don’t want to go through something like that again, for I felt like my own soul was in danger.”
“What else did you sense about this power?” asked the Archduke, wondering if these strangers had brought more than their impossible weapons with them.
“It blasted words into my mind,” said the frightened Mage, his eyes wide. “I didn’t have to sense anything about it. It said, this is my child. You may not touch this soul, for it is protected by me.”
“Tell the other mages what you experienced,” said the Archduke, looking the Mage in the eyes. “Tell them I say to avoid that power, to avoid any that seem to be protected such. There is something different about some of them. Continue to raise those who seem to have no protection, but stop when they feel something like that in the background.”
The Mage nodded his head and went to the side of the other necromancers, interrupting their sendings to tell them what their Lord had said.
Not even the Gods of light and life interfere with a binding, thought the Archduke, as he watched more of the Grogatha soldiers get blown apart trying to close with the strangers. What in the hell did these strangers bring with them from wherever they came? Then he dismissed the thought from his mind and started the summoning of lightning from the heavens.
* * *
Kurt had been walking all night, but still felt as if he had gotten a full night’s sleep. He couldn’t believe the energy that he had. He felt like the mythical superman, fallen to Earth and energized under the rays of a different sun. Of course he didn’t have the strength of the comic book hero, but if not that much, it was still more than he was used to.
“Like a demigod, eh,” said Levine, walking beside him.
Kurt looked over at his Jewish friend, amazed once again that their minds had thought so much alike, and before Kurt had even thought about the possibility of being transported to another world. The slightly smaller man was wearing a different kind of harness than the big German. He had a breast and back plate, pauldrons and forearm guards, greaves and an armored skirt, as well as an open helm. A large round shield hung on his left arm, and a long sword was belted to his waist. Except for the sword the Jew looked like an improved Hellenic or Roman warrior. It was the material that made up the armor and weapons that had amazed Kurt when he first saw them. They were made of the same strong but light titanium alloy that Kurt had commissioned for his armor.
Kurt nodded back at his friend. The visor of his full helm almost swung shut and he raised a hand quickly to stop it. His armor was starting to get a little warm, but he had expected that with full Gothic plate. His armor only weighed half as much as the Renaissance protection, and with his great strength it felt as if he were walking in a workout suit and not the metal he actually wore.
[It feels like a demigod, yes,] thought the German at his friend, amazed again at the ability to communicate that had come to them their first day in this new world. Telepathy was another super power that was at first hard to believe. But here it was, if he wasn’t…
“Crazy,” said Levine with a laugh. He looked at the too bright sun, then around at the forest that pressed in on both sides of the road. “We might just be crazy. But until proven otherwise, I choose to treat this world as real. Elves and all.”
That sounded like logical reasoning to Kurt. If he woke up in a mental hospital later it wouldn’t really matter what he thought now. But if he decided to treat this as a hallucination and something big and nasty killed him, he was dead and nothing was gained. He looked around at the other people on the road. German citizens mostly, with a smattering of military vehicles, German for the most part but with some Americans. Some of the people were pointing at him and Levine. At first people had shied away from him and his friend. They looked strange and dangerous. But soon they began to blend in, and people recognized them as fellow travelers, not some of the dangerous natives who had sparked talk and rumors.
“Your people have always amazed me,” said Levine, following Kurt’s gaze. “You are so civilized and orderly. So ready to work hard to get the job done, no matter the circumstances.”
“You mean when we are not herding together into destructive packs of savage warriors,” said the big German, laughing.
“There is that,” said Levine, nodding somberly. “But even as warriors you are so organized and thoughtful. But no. Look at these people, heading to where they have been told there is more of their kind. Where there might be leadership and organization. Where they might be of use for the common good, as well as protected. They are taking this all in stride, most of them, and trying to band together for the common good. A most admirable people.”
Kurt thought about that for a second, trudging down the road under the hot sun. Yes, his people were a remarkable folk. He remembered how they had started to rebuild their country right after the fighting passed them, in the last war. Not like many other peoples who held their hands out for the Americans to fill. They had produced a high civilization in Europe prior to Hitler. So high a civilization that many people couldn’t believe they had also committed the war crimes that had shocked the civilized world. And now they were on an alien world, facing things that most would not believe. And they were organizing with great rapidity.
“I guess if we’re going to have to fight for a niche in this world we could have done worse than to bring a couple hundred thousand Germans with us,” said Levine, almost reading his thoughts, though Kurt felt none of the intrusion that went with telepathy.
“It would have been nice to have some of your people along as well,” said Kurt, thinking of what a few thousand Israeli commandos might do in this world.
“I’m sure some of them came across as well,” said Levine with conviction. “And I feel sorry for whoever on this world tries to stand in their way. I…”
The Jew stopped talking and both men looked up and down the road. There was no mistaking the cracking sounds that were coming from up the road. They could see that the soldiers moving down the pathway were also alerted. Kurt had heard such sounds on a daily basis during the last war. He knew that Levine’s recollections went back even further, back to the early days of gunpowder warfare. But no matter the era the crack of firearms, small arms and larger cannon, was unique.
“Let’s go,” said the Jew, running forward without waiting to see if his friend was following. Kurt was on his heels in an instant. He was slightly slower than the smaller Jew, but with a longer stride. And Levine held his pace down just a bit, obviously wanting his big friend alongside whenever they got to where the shooting was happening.
The crackling sounds of small arms got louder. There were some booms of cannon that Kurt thought sounded like the big guns of tanks. Some whooshing sounds came that he didn’t recognize. Followed by dull explosions and columns of smoke over the trees.
The big man in armor ran on and on, marveling in his own stamina. He knew he was over a hundred years old, though he had not aged past the apparent physiology of thirty. But he had never been an Olympic class athlete. He couldn’t tell that now, as his lungs easily fed oxygen to his muscles and he ran like a deer, despite his weight of armor.
After what seemed like moments, but had to be about ten minutes or more, the road entered a large clearing filled with farms and fields of vegetables. And also filled with a battle. Kurt blinked for a moment when he saw how many of the large armored fighting vehicles had been destroyed. People were streaming down the road, and the two men were forced to go into the fields or knock the civilians down. There was firing ahead on the other side of the village in the center of the open area. And explosions sounded as earth gouted into the air under an artillery barrage that was sweeping the other end of the clearing.
[Over there,] said Levine in his head, pointing at the far side of the clearing, about three kilometers away. Kurt’s sharp eyes brought the scene into focus with a clarity he still found hard to believe. He wondered if he would next be looking through walls. Then the scene took hold and he gasped at the thousands of c
reatures who were running out of the woods toward the German lines.
[Ugly bastards, aren’t they,] he thought at his friend as they ran toward the fighting. [Wonder what they’re called?]
[I wouldn’t know,] thought Levine, running alongside. [I bet they feel fear though. They have to fear what’s behind them more than what’s in front of them to come through that.]
Suddenly the artillery barrage lifted and a flash of lightning came out of the sky, hitting one of the German positions. Men jumped up and spasmed, or lay where they were and jerked, as the electric shock killed a half squad of German grenadiers. Another lightning bolt came down, killing more German soldiers. And panic took hold, and the men jumped up and fled from the supernatural attack that was killing them where they lay.
Chapter Nine
“We can’t raise the artillery, sir,” said the loader, who was also the radioman.
Sturgil swore under his breath as the second lightning bolt came down. This was not the time for their communications to stop working. The gunner had just told him that the laser range finder was glitching out too. And why had the artillery just stopped firing, unless something had happened to them as well?
“Keep trying,” yelled the officer, as he watched the grenadiers jump up from their posts and begin to run away from the attacking monsters. At least they are still acting as soldiers, thought the officer. Even if panic stricken they still took their weapons, including the crew served ones, and carried them with them to the rear. But we need to stop this retreat if we’re going to salvage the situation.
* * *
Oberleutnent Gottfried Schmidt was worried that they were firing too much of their ammo. His battery of four Panzercannon 2000 was giving good support to the soldiers that had called in their fire. His men were working efficiently to send the 155mm rounds toward the target, and the calls from the panzergrenadiers told him they were adjusting well to the targets. But he only had the thirty on-board rounds of each gun, and the two hundred rounds of extra ammo in the two ammunition carriers. Doctrine called for massed fires whenever the infantry asked for them. Too many massed fires and he would have some thin skinned armored transports good for little else.
Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1 Page 12
