by Bob Blink
He showed them the drawings that resembled very closely the design Jolan could remember from old movies of the German potato masher.
“Do you think we’ll need to get permission to proceed?”
“I’d build a couple first. If they work, show them to Major Eward or Major Wylan. You won’t have any trouble at all getting approval with those two on your side. They’ve been bugging me for some time for more ideas.”
Chapter 76
Every mile they traveled after passing through Tyess reminded them how close they were getting to home. Rifod had traveled this section of road several times each year from the time he was five or six years old, and he spotted familiar sight after familiar sight as he drove the carriage down the road.
“Two days more and we will be home,” he said unnecessarily. Nerila knew this area as well as he did. They’d both been born and grown up in Simor.
“We can stay at the Wandered Inn tonight. My dad always liked to stay there when he was on the road. I have fond memories of being there as a little girl.”
They had been given special permission to leave the College for the winter months so they could return home for the wedding. They had left early so they could travel before the bad weather set in making travel dangerous to impossible. Some of the days had already been very cold and windy, but at least they’d only seen a bit of rain. No snow had fallen to make the trip difficult, although Nerila suspected it would be only a matter of a week or two before the ground was thick with the stuff.
They’d had to make a choice where to be married. The ceremony could have been performed at the College with their friends, which would have been nice. Afterwards, however, everyone would have fallen almost immediately back into their daily routine, and the warm glow would have been diffused by the very nature of life at the College. Besides, they had promised their families that when the time came, they’d return home for the ceremony. They’d written ahead a couple of weeks back after getting permission to leave, and they knew that all the preparations would be well underway in Simor.
Sadly, none of their friends would be able to come. They couldn’t be gone for the winter, and if they made the trip now, there was no guarantee that the return would be possible for some time. At the very least, it would be a miserable trip. Instead, they’d been given a grand sendoff, with a promise of an equally glorious party upon their return in the spring.
Rifod was glad to be gone. He knew he hadn’t been himself since the attack some weeks back. His mind had become unsettled by how close he had come to dying, and by the implications of what was coming. It would be good to be able to seek his father’s advice once again, and to be secure in the warmth of his home surrounded by his parents and his brother and sister.
His father was a sea fisherman, and had a no nonsense view of the world around him. He never had a hint of ability with the power, nor did Rifod’s mother, which had made it a big surprise when he started showing the signs when he was young. They’d had mixed feelings about him going off to the College so far away, but they were not the type of parents to stand in the way of their child’s future.
Rifod hadn’t known Nerila growing up in Simor, although they’d only lived a couple of miles apart. That was enough separation that they had gone to different schools and had different circles of friends. She’d come to the power naturally through her grandfather who was a medium level mage. The ability seemed to have skipped a generation, and her father hadn’t been blessed. She’d been only four when she started making small fires, so everyone had thought she was going to be a very strong mage, yet testing had shown otherwise.
She’d been selected to go to the school the same year as Rifod, and they’d ridden on the same carriage from Simor to Cobalo, which had given them days to talk and become acquainted. Once they arrived at the College, they sought each other out without being aware they were doing so. It was mostly a matter of finding a familiar person to talk with. Slowly they expanded their group of friends, but by then they had become attracted to each other, an attraction that had grown as time passed.
They both knew that they were not chosen to be a couple of the great mages of their time. Nerila was actually expected to be the stronger of the two, but they had no special talents that made them stand out. Both gravitated toward scholarly pursuits, and shared interests that hadn’t hurt their relationship in the early days. Rifod had often remarked to Nerila that they were better suited to being a couple of librarians than mages given their interests and the modest levels of their magical skills. Fortunately, the College had need of skilled researchers.
The road continued to slip past as they rode in silence for a while. They’d had almost a week of traveling, and most topics had been chewed over several times. Besides, both were comfortable with long silences together.
“Some of us are going to get hurt you know,” he said suddenly after one of the long periods of quiet.
Nerila sighed. “That was a bad thing, but it’s past. You don’t need to keep thinking about it.”
“I was more than hurt. Far worse than either of us realize. I can see it in Jolan’s eyes sometimes when he looks at me and remembers. If I’d only been wounded he’d joke about how he didn’t have any ability and suddenly his ring came and saved the day. No, he doesn’t want to talk about it. That tells me how serious it was. Besides, the doctor talked to me about all the blood at the scene.”
Nerila nodded silently. She’d seen the blood when she’d rushed up to Rifod, and had expected the worst. Somehow, in the middle of all the gore, he had been fine.
“We don’t have to go back you know. We’ve talked about just staying here in Simor. We have family and could have a full life without any of the stresses. Neither of us is going to set the world on fire as a mage anyway. We’re both only fours you know.”
“You’ll be a five,” Rifod reminded her.
“Maybe, but I wonder.”
“We’d be running away,” Rifod said.
“Running away? Even if they are right and a war is coming, we’d never be involved. Neither of us have any skills that would be useful. We can’t fight, and we can’t heal any better than Jolan without his ring. We’re good with books. They’d never miss us.”
“Joan would miss us. You’ve seen how he is central to what is happening. If we aren’t there, things will turn out badly.”
“What, now you can predict the future? When did this happen? You’d have scoffed at the idea a short time ago.”
“I know how it sounds, but I think I’m right. I can’t imagine what we could bring that would make a difference, but something tells me we’ve got to be there by his side.”
“We’ve already seen how dangerous it can be to be around him. And that was before a war started. You are willing to go back even if the whole of Gaea is at war and Jolan is a primary target?”
“I don’t want to, but I think it won’t work out right if we don’t. We need to think about it and be sure after we arrive. After the wedding we can talk about it again and decide. Agreed?”
Nerila nodded quietly “Rifod, I’m scared.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Chapter 77
The attacks came just after dawn, the enemy troops coming off the rolling hills and breaking through the trees along the border that separated Perta and Ser’lin. Along this stretch of land the mountains were not so high and difficult to cross, and historically this route had been a common area of dispute between the two countries. The fact that this area had seen conflict before was why Kimlelm had built a series of fortresses here.
Complete surprise was achieved by Ale’ald with the early morning attacks. After weeks of being prepared against a border crossing by their long standing enemy, Kimlelm had finally concluded that no attack was coming this season. The weather sages had said the first snows of winter were only days away. It was too late in the season for a practical campaign to be waged and therefore the leaders of Kimlelm had relaxed the rigorous patrols they had been m
aintaining through the fall. The troop concentrations had been reduced dramatically in the last few days, bringing home as many men as possible before the snows made travel more difficult. Additional support for the forts had also been withdrawn, and the remaining men had become more relaxed in their patrols, relieved to know they wouldn’t be facing battle at least until the winter months had passed.
Counseling against these moves had been Major Wylan when he’d been informed of the plans, but he was an officer of another country, and the leaders of Kimlelm had decided to ignore his advice. After all, they had shared the border with Ale’ald for hundreds of years, not Angon, and they knew their enemy far better.
The attacks came on multiple fronts. Along the shared border Kimlelm had established four forts spread across approximately sixty miles of the least protected mountainous region. These heavily fortified structures were manned and supported by a large contingent of roving patrols that moved along the perimeter in established patterns. It was the forces outside the forts that were attacked first.
Among the first to die were the members of the northern patrol, many of the men just climbing out of their sleeping blankets or drinking their morning hot kafta. Most were taken completely by surprise and never had a chance to reach their own weapons. Part of the surprise was due to the early morning hour and a failure of the watch to properly check for advancing enemy, their diligence diluted by the sureness of their leaders that nothing was to be expected. A large element of the surprise was the manner of the attack. For the first time in the history of the Settled Lands, the hills rang with a new sound, the sound of gunfire.
The first men to hear the sound either thought it might be thunder or were so curious as to the source of the unusual explosions they were slow to react. The hail of lead balls that swept through the camp were all but invisible as compared to the more familiar arrows, and suddenly men started dying, falling to the ground bleeding, sometimes with heads smashed open or with broken limbs, the bones smashed by the heavy lead balls. Those who were first to realize it was an attack decided it was a new weapon released by the enemy mages, and yelled warnings of the same to their companions. It didn’t matter. Wave after wave of death flew through the camps up and down the border.
The new rifles gave the Ale’ald soldiers an incredible advantage. First was range. While they weren’t as accurate as might be desired, they could be fired from a hundred yards or more with far better chances of success than any bows the troops normally carried. Sheer volume of fire made up for accuracy, and the panic that was caused by the unknown source of death among the Kimlelm soldiers further aided the attacking forces. They fired in waves, hidden among the trees or behind contours in the hillsides. The first line would fire, then kneel to load, clearing the way for a second line. When they had released their loads of death, they too would kneel and load, clearing the range for the last row. This was a technique developed on another world long ago when these weapons had been state-of-the-art, but it served just as well here.
The Ale’ald rifles were far cruder than those built by Angon, using a poorer quality steel made them heavier. They also used a smaller caliber ball, a .45 in this case, which allowed a reduced load of powder, and therefore a bit more margin of strength for the low quality barrels. The .45 was more than adequate for the task. The lead balls, dirty from the powder and fouled bores would create festering wounds in those it wounded rather than killed. Many would die slowly as a result, a fate Ale’ald was more than happy to inflict on the men.
“Lieutenant, what do we do?” begged one of the men who had managed to reach some cover along with his superior.
The lieutenant was a bit more seasoned than most in this group, and while he’d never been in active combat he realized that sitting in place simply made them targets for the attackers. He’d seen enough to know the killing was the result of some weapon being used by the enemy troops, and not some new vicious magic that had been unleashed. That meant the old rules still applied. They had to attack and disrupt the enemy, forcing him to break the careful entrenchment they had made. Fleeing would only offer their backs as targets. If they attacked, despite the losses, they had some small chance.
He could see that the survivors were starting to come together as a fighting force. They had found weapons, their own or those of fallen comrades, and were gathering in small groups behind whatever cover could be found. Slipping carefully to the first of these groups, the lieutenant explained what he wanted, then sent the men to coordinate with others. A few were shot as they left cover to carry the message back, but before long he had a sizeable number of soldiers who were ready to follow his command.
“Attack,” he yelled as he raised his sword and started toward the grove of trees from which the thick smoke and sounds of thunder had been coming in waves since the attack started. Whatever the manner of weapon they were using, it didn’t offer much in concealment.
As the band moved toward the groves, it grew in size as others joined the assault. Off to the left a large group of his own army had been protected by the slope of the land, and they too joined the rush as their comrades passed their position. Many died as the rifles continued to fire, but more escaped the murderous volleys, and were soon approaching the trees. The Ale’ald soldiers, knowing they were soon to be over run, turned and fled back down the small valley behind the trees, pursued by the lieutenant and his makeshift force.
The Ale’ald commander had known the rifle company was too small to be able to take down the entire camp, and had prepared accordingly. He was a bit miffed the wizards that were watching the proceedings hadn’t participated. With their help, it would have been a simple matter to wipe out the opposing force with minimum losses of his own, but he had been told this attack was an experiment as much as anything. They wanted to see what could be done by the men armed with the new rifles without the support of magic. One didn’t argue with the wizards. Not if one wanted to keep living, or wanted his family to continue doing the same. He’d therefore planned for the enemy to manage a counter-attack at some point.
The trees along the hillsides of the valley the retreating Ale’ald soldiers were taking were far enough apart that the pursuing soldiers gave them little thought. It was a fatal mistake. Once the full band of Kimlelm forces had entered the valley pursuing the fleeing enemy, the remaining Ale’ald force began their attack. Looking down on the Kimlelm forces from the hills on either side of the small valley, they could fire from either side without fear of hitting each other. The thunderous sounds of gunfire began again, the clouds of white smoke belching out from the trees as the hidden men turned their fire upon the forces below. Only minutes were required to finish the pursuing force. A few wounded remained after the firing ceased, and they were soon dispatched by the Ale’ald forces that had been chased only moments before. The lieutenant died knowing he’d led his men into ambush.
Other battles along the border followed in a similar manner, although not all were as complete in their victory. Often some of the men escaped back into the forts, or were able to mount an attack of sufficient strength that they were able to inflict damage upon the enemy before being forced to flee. Ten miles to the south of the attack that had taken the lives of the lieutenant and his men, well led Kimlelm forces were pushing back the Ale’ald riflemen, and victory in this one area seemed within their grasp. As the Kimlelm forces came screaming across the meadow causing the attacking Ale’ald force to turn and flee, a dark robed wizard stepped from between the trees and faced the charging Kimlelm forces alone. He seemed almost casual as he watched them approach, and then suddenly, without any sign of what was about to occur, a wave of rolling fire sixty feet wide started across the meadow toward the charging Kimlelm forces. Wave after wave of the fire sped their way, moving so fast there was no chance to turn aside or run. The blistering heat caused the men to scream even before the rolling wave actually engulfed them, and by the time the last wave of wizard’s fire had passed, the entire force had been burned to u
nrecognizable lumps that scattered across the now blackened and destroyed grasses of the meadow.
The battles continued throughout the day all along the sixty miles of patrolled forest. Kimlelm had twelve thousand men stationed in the area. Eight thousand had been on patrol outside the forts. Of these, less than two thousand survived the day, and many of these were wounded and might die from their wounds. Only in the far south where Mojol and his band of one hundred mounted soldiers had been patrolling with the Kimlelm men had the troops faired any better. Mojol’s men had camped somewhat separated from the Kimlelm forces, and as small as their force was they hadn’t been targeted for the initial attacks. The enemy also hadn’t known they had their own rifles, and when the attacks started Mojol ran a number of raids against the attackers, his own men far better trained and better shots. They inflicted significant injuries on the attackers, and when an Ale’ald wizard broke through the trees in an attempt to bring them down, he was in turn surprised by Mojol’s own wizard-killer team who took the man down. By the end of the day, Mojol had lost twenty-percent of his men, but that was a remarkably small number by the standards of the day’s fighting.
As the day began to fade, the fighting suddenly waned as the attackers seemed to melt away, pulling back and slipping into the mountains from which they had come. Searching for survivors, the men made their way back to the forts to care for those that might survive, and to prepare for what they feared the morning would bring.
As the Kimlelm forces had expected, the following day was met with additional attacks. Now, however, the attacks were directed toward the forts. The surviving Kimlelm forces had all taken refuge behind the walls of the forts, their numbers so reduced they couldn’t expect to field a reasonable fighting force in the open. Runners had been sent the previous night to alert the command of the attacks and plead for reinforcements, but no one could be sure that any of the runners had made it through. Even if they had, it would be two days before the garrison at Perta would be able to get men from the town up to the mountains where the fighting was taking place. They had to hope they could hold on that long.
