by Bob Blink
Somehow Ale’ald had found a way to develop aircraft. The survivors of the initial attack described a large manned “bird” that flew over the encampment, dropping containers which burst when they hit the ground releasing the killing gas. Hundreds had died in the single attack that was described, and Jolan had the sinking feeling that this was one of many such attacks that must be taking place.
“I’ve seen pictures of the aircraft from your world,” Wylan said. “Is there really a chance they have been able to build such machines here?”
Jolan shook his head. He didn’t see how. The obstacles to be overcome were enormous. Just creating motors and developing the capability to refine the petroleum into aviation fuel would be daunting. It didn’t fit with what he knew of Ale’ald’s industrial state. There was no way the machines could have been brought from Earth and assembled here. Cheurt had always been limited in how much he could bring, and he knew that Ryltas had been the primary contact on Earth. Had they found another way to get material between the worlds? He didn’t believe it.
Knowing he was only guessing, Jolan realized they needed information.
“I’m going there,” he said suddenly, meaning the battlefield.
“No need,” Wylan said. “I’ve sent men to take pictures of the machine. We should go and tell Vaen.” He knew that Jolan would be safe enough from the gas with his personal shields. Many men had been saved by the mages on site who had been able to create a widespread but weak shield around the men when they realized what was happening. It had been too late for many however.
As they spoke, another of the aides came hurrying in. He handed Wylan more sheets of paper.
“More reports. There have been similar attacks along the river. We have reports of at least five other locations. There are also men crossing the river. Hundreds of small craft, each carrying twenty or more men have been sighted.”
* * * *
Wizard-Pilot Acher scanned the ground below him as he flew well above the height where a mage on the ground could hope to attack him. He could see the men below scatter as he flew above them. Word was getting out how dangerous the flying objects were, especially in this region where several attacks had already been made. This was his second trip across the river today. He was both exhilarated and frightened as he flew high above the troops on the ground below. The machine which he piloted was nothing like the amazing planes they had been shown in the moving pictures during their initial selection. Those were made of metal and flew at speeds and altitudes that were frightening to consider. This trip he flew a bit higher than he had the last time he’d flown over the enemy. Flying even higher was possible, but he’d found dropping the canisters where he wanted became very much more difficult as he climbed to higher altitudes and he prided himself on his precision. He didn’t know how effective the rifles would be at an altitude of a bit more than three thousand feet, but the last trip over the enemy had fired at him. He’d detected a couple of hits against the shield he maintained as he flew. The shield protected critical parts of the plane and, of course, himself. He was fortunate in that the shots fired had been the standard projectiles, and not the shield penetrating variety the enemy seemed to have in abundance. He wasn’t taking any chances someone might have the kind that could reach him through his shield, and added the extra altitude. It used a bit of his reserve, but he wasn’t taxing the machine’s capability this trip and this was as important as any other contingency in his mind.
It was time to make his turn, and he carefully pressed on the foot control and moved the stick between his legs to change the plane’s attitude, dipping his left wing and gradually coming around. He could see the target camp ahead, and pressed the release for the first of the two bombs he carried. He felt it drop away as he continued the wide turn, and then straightened and headed back towards the river. He’d drop the second bomb closer to the shore, and then continue back across the water to land where he’d taken off almost thirty minutes ago. It would be the last trip of the day. There were no more of the massive batteries waiting charged and ready that would need to be replaced before another flight would be possible. It would take most of the night for the support crew to charge the many batteries so the ten aircraft could all fly once again.
The plane he flew was more of a glider than a true airplane. It had a very long wingspan, and was built of the lightest possible materials. The design of the aircraft had been taken from that other world. It was built of a magically enhanced hollow tubed structure over which stretched a very strong cloth that had also been magically enhanced. The single propeller that rose up behind him was driven by the crude and heavy lead acid battery packs that were located in the leading edges of the wings on either side near where they joined the main structure. The cells were combined to produce a battery with over two hundred volts. The plane could carry a single pilot and a small payload. The two canisters of the poison gas completed the load carrying abilities of the craft.
The manufacturing expertise of captured Kimlelm and the wizardry skill of Ale’ald had both been required to create this miracle. While he didn’t know the details, he was riding on an airframe that was designed for a maximum weight at liftoff of 1450 pounds. Of that weight, 170 pounds were lead acid batteries, and 150 pounds were the gas canisters. Two hundred pounds had been allocated for the pilot, and the rest was all glider. To get this vehicle into the air required a boost that it was incapable of delivering itself. A large solid assist motor with it’s own wheels and packed with almost five hundred pounds of propellant, a carefully blended mix of sugar and potassium nitrate in this case, was attached to the center of gravity of the plane. The plane rode on top of the rolling motor.
When it was time to launch the plane, the solid motor was ignited by a single switch on the control panel, and the plane would begin its very short trip down the runway. Once the plane accelerated to 70 mph, the pilot would pull back on the stick taking to the air, and pointing the nose sharply upward at thirty-four degrees and ride the motor until it burned out fifty-two seconds after it had been ignited. That short burn launched the plane and pushed it to five thousand feet of altitude. All that was left was to jettison the empty motor case and allow the plane to settle at its normal cruising speed of sixty mph. The lead acid batteries provided the 3.2 kilowatts of power required for level flight for a range of forty-six miles. The five thousand feet of altitude could also be traded for distance, roughly ten miles for each thousand feet, giving almost one hundred miles from take off to landing if one was foolish enough to challenge the odds.
Only wizards could be pilots. That was one of Cheurt’s rules. For one thing, the piloting skills that had been passed to each of them from some unspecified individual were easier to give to a wizard. Cheurt also didn’t believe such knowledge should be shared with a commoner. In addition, a wizard had the ability to create a shield, which could help protect the plane while in flight.
Acher usually limited himself to an altitude of four thousand feet, holding a bit of the battery in reserve against unexpected needs somewhere along the flight. He let altitude bleed away in exchange for distance until he reached the lower altitude he preferred. Once he had reached the four thousand foot target, he started the propeller and allowed the plane to continue on holding that setting until he approached the target area, where he once again had let the altitude drop putting him closer to the ground.
After he made the second drop he changed heading and returned across the river. Now that he was safely out of range of the men on the ground, he started to shed altitude once again saving charge on the battery. Whatever didn’t need to be replaced would speed the turnaround time on each battery set. He could see the boats crossing the river below him as he crossed back to the Kimlelm side. The boats were another miracle. They were made of some kind of material that could hold air. Without the air they were flat and could be rolled or folded into relatively small packages and stored away until needed. Since these were very large versions of the craft, carrying
thirty men or an equivalent in supplies, transporting one of the craft even deflated required a dedicated wagon. They had been stored in warehouses back from the river where they wouldn’t be found. Starting the previous night, they had been brought to the river, where teams of wizards used magic to rapidly inflate the craft. Now hundreds of them were making their way across the river, carrying the forces and supplies that would be necessary to hold the ground until a more permanent means of crossing the river could be erected.
Most of the boats were powered by men with oars, ten on a side paddling fiercely as the boat traveled down river with the current. A few had battery powered motors to help with the propulsion, mostly those boats that carried more supplies than men. They had launched well upriver of where they hoped to land, so while the river swept them along as they made the crossing, it was actually carrying them toward their destination. By the time they arrived the gas would have dissipated, and it would be safe to be in the area once again. Acher was proud to be part of a team that was so ingenious and which would clearly come out the winner. The forces of Ale’ald’s enemy had been resourceful, but he knew they had nothing to counter the miracles Ale’ald had gathered together to win this war.
* * * *
It didn’t all go Ale’ald’s way. Some of the boats landed in areas where the hidden, dung impregnated stakes had been placed. When the first boats landed and the men charged out onto the grasses around the river, eager to engage the enemy, many ran into the hidden shafts, impaling themselves on the sharpened and fouled wood. As the sharpened shafts penetrated thighs and calves, and even the occasional abdomen, the soldiers fell screaming to the ground. It didn’t take long to find the cause of the wounds, but by then several hundred men at various landing sites had been stabbed by the poisonous stakes, virtually all of whom would die within a few days. As a result of the discovery, the attacking forces moved far more slowly than planned as they moved out to secure the territory the planes had won for them.
Plans had not been made to properly handle any wounded resulting from the assaults. Initially, many of those hurt were loaded into the boats and attempts made to carry them back across the river. Boats loaded with wounded were short of the required number of rowers, and usually traveled very far downstream before they could return to the Kimlelm side of the river. The boats that had been used to carry supplies and had small motors were also of little use, the batteries having been depleted by the trip across the water. Once the boats finally landed, the wounded found themselves far from any medical aid and lay in misery for extended periods waiting for help. Once help did reach them, the infections were usually well established and the men died unless they were among the few where a properly trained wizard was available to use magic to cure them. The message was clear to the soldiers; don’t get too brave, don’t get wounded. The fear of sharing the fate of their fellows made them very cautious and greatly slowed the planned advance.
Realizing the problem, many of the wizards that landed with the boats used their magic to flame the grasses along the river. The magical fires were used to reveal any hidden dangers by burning any suspicious area that was encountered. In this way, many of the hidden stakes failed in their job, but the fear had already been placed in the minds of the attacking forces and delays had resulted. The magic greatly lessened the effectiveness of a tried and true method on Earth, but a number of men continued to fall on the following days as the unwary stumbled into yet another hidden area heavily primed with the pungi stakes.
The boats landed in hundreds of locations, usually in groups of three or four. Once the boats reached shore, the men moved in preplanned directions to join up with their fellows. Gradually the army resumed its desired shape, battalions forming up under the control of officers and wizards. Seldom did the groups gather in the areas Jolan and Wylan had selected to hide the tanks of petroleum, not that it mattered. In the one or two cases where the enemy was to be found in sufficient numbers for the potential weapon to be useful, there were no mages nearby to create the explosion.
Over fifteen thousand men crossed the river that afternoon and formed up on the Seret side of the banks of the river. They wasted little time and the first battalions to assemble headed inland searching for the defending forces. They found hundreds of dead from the poisonous gas dropped from the planes, and several miles inland they encountered the first of the replacement troops being sent to repel the invasion. The wizards used waves of Rolling Fire on the defending troops, most of whom were unsupported by mages who might have been able to shield them from the worst of the magic. The loss of life was one-sided in these encounters, leaving hundreds more of the defending forces dead and allowing the invading army to advance further into Seretian territory.
The fighting extended over almost seventy miles of the river border. Those locations closest to the portals that had been mapped some weeks before by Ronoron and Asari faired best. Wylan’s snipers were deployed in two man teams along the length of the river using these portals, and more than a few wizards fell to rifle fire at distances where they would have expected to be safe from enemy attack. The invading army and surviving wizards never made the connection between the distant sounds of rifle fire followed by the sudden smack of rifle bullets into wizards and battalion leaders, killing them regardless of whether they had raised shields or not. Once the protection of the wizards was lost, the invading army was far more at risk from the defending forces.
Both sides paid dearly for the day’s fighting. Ale’ald lost a number of wizards, but like the wizard-pilots, they were relatively low level and therefore more expendable than their more talented brothers. The plans had been made with the expectation some would be lost during the crossing and the establishing of a base within Seret. The numbers lost were higher than expected, but that was war.
By the end of the day, Ale’ald had captured two of the targeted areas. They were securely held with sufficient troops to hold the contested areas against the defenders. More troops were being sent across to support those already at the secured locations, and more capable wizards were now crossing the river as well. Already, efforts were starting on the Kimlelm side of the river to start the construction of the first temporary bridge that would span the river, allowing a more conventional means of bringing troops and supplies into Seret. Ale’ald fully expected to have multiple permanent bridges in place by the end of the month. It was only a matter of time before Seret fell just as Kimlelm had.
Chapter 133
Rass, the ranking soldier of Sniper Team Alpha Three, lowered his binoculars and leaned slowly toward his partner. He had often wondered about the team naming, but Samm had told them it was something the mage Jolan had come up with based on protocols used on Earth. Rass didn’t care about the name. Jolan had supplied them with incredible equipment. He was happy to take any name the man chose. Jeer felt the motion and responded by slowly moving toward his leader. The two snipers had spent the better part of the day crawling through the spring grasses making their way into this position. They had passed up a number of targets along the way, but were following the orders they had received to make their way to where they would be within sight of the river camp the enemy had established. Samm had radioed them instructions that morning after they had reported back. This was after killing several officers and two wizards that had been with the battalion they’d been assigned to pursue as support for Seret’s ground forces. Their new mission was two-fold. See what was happening at the site and watch for the arrival of a boat with two ranking enemy, a senior officer and a command level wizard that one of the spies inside Kimlelm had somehow learned would be coming to the Seret side late in the day. If they could get a shot, they were to take it.
“I think this is the boat,” Rass whispered. “The wizard hasn’t learned like his buddies. He’s still wearing the formal uniform they all like so much.”
The wizards on this side of the river had been learning quickly. They were easy to spot in their formal attire, and that had mad
e them ready targets. Most of the surviving wizards in Seret had taken to wearing the standard uniform, usually without rank or sometimes with the insignia of the lower ranks. Most didn’t raise their shields unless absolutely necessary. They had learned that the spotter mages that frequently worked with the sniper teams could identify them by the power draw. While being without shields raised their risk level somewhat, unless an attack was underway, the risk was far less than it seemed to be from the enemy snipers, who were far more difficult to locate than they’d been the previous year. Whatever weapons they were using no longer produced the telltale smoke, and must have a very long reach. The copper projectiles they were firing would penetrate their shields in any event. It was a development that made them very nervous. They were actually at more risk than the common soldiers. It had never been this way before.
“I’ll take the wizard,” Rass whispered softly. “You take the man with him immediately after I shoot. The men on the bank waiting to meet them have to be senior level of some kind, so we’ll each take one of them as opportunity presents. I’ll chose from the targets on the left side.”
Jeer nodded. He didn’t like talking at all, but Rass had always been a bit chatty, even here in the hide. They were far enough out that no one should be able to hear them, but Jeer figured they could always be surprised. He was okay with the two shots. Any more, however, would greatly increase the chance of someone figuring out where they were. After the shots were taken, they’d simply stay put. They had found a very good hide, and they would wait until the enemy gave up the search before making their way out of the area. Jeer raised his own binoculars and scanned the incoming boat, focusing carefully on his target.
