Parabolis

by Eddie Han

  “Fine with me so long as you can guarantee their safety.”

  After a dinner of gruel, canned fish, nuts and roasted wild game, Dale got a chance to brief his traveling companions. They were not included in the plans to down the skyship. They were told that they would not be allowed to continue on to Valorcourt until the day after the next. Darius had posted guards outside their tent as a precaution. Valkyrie was content so long as he was fed and the Beserker sergeant remained a safe distance from him. Alaric and Selah occupied themselves in prayer.

  Darius ordered Mills to take his squad and get into position just after midnight. It would be a long trek across the plains to the far side of the Ancile.

  “Good luck, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “We’ll see you on the other side.”

  Dale watched as the men marched out of camp. As they disappeared into the darkness, he was startled by the thud of an arm draped over his shoulder.

  “So ye think me an asshole, do ye?” asked Bixby with a wry smile. “According to yon major, this asshole’s not supposed to let ye out of me sight. Looks like ye and me, we were meant to be together, aye Little Sunday?”

  “Shit.”

  CH 42

  EVENING SUN

  The few remaining officers and others selected to lead a fireteam were called into the command center for a final briefing. Six men who were either wounded or deemed to have the least combat experience were assigned to guard the campsite and its guests. Despite their disappointment, there was no protest. After the briefing, the rest were sent to their respective teams to go over the specifics of their part in the operation. Each team then went through their normal equipment and weapons check. The operation was scheduled for sometime in the evening. They waited for word from Darius.

  Dale spent a good portion of the day making his own camouflage suit. He gathered nearby foliage and meticulously wove them onto his jacket. By evening, like the rest of the resistance, Dale was prepared to blend into his surroundings.

  During dinner, the men ate quietly. With his untouched ration sitting in a small bowl on his lap, Dale slowly rubbed his palms against his trousers.

  Alaric watched him. “There’s talk of a battle brewing among the men. This won’t be your first, will it?”

  Dale looked up at the templar and replied after a long pause. “No, it won’t.”

  “But you can’t eat.”

  “Guess I’m not hungry.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  Dale gave thought to the question—a question he did not want to consider.

  “The prioress and I have prayed for you.”

  “I’m not so much afraid of dying as I am of taking another life.”

  Alaric nodded.

  “You ever kill anyone?” Dale then asked.

  Alaric sighed. “More than I care to remember.”

  “How do you reconcile that with your faith?”

  “I don’t. There are questions to which there are no easy answers. One can only wrestle with them for so long. Life does not wait. We must live on—move into the darkness. In the end, my only hope is that the Maker is forgiving. You should eat. You have a long night ahead of you.”

  Dale forced down a spoonful of gruel. Not long after, Darius emerged from the command center.

  “It’s time, gentlemen.”

  The men rallied together, fully dressed for battle, camouflaged and armed with rifles and swords. A company of tree-men. When they were ready to march, Darius stepped forward.

  “I’d say something to stir your hearts, boys, but I’m not big on speeches. Besides, we have with us members of the Holy Order. A cleric from the College of Sisters and a templar.” Darius turned to Selah. “I’d like to ask you, Prioress. Would you bless us?”

  Selah hesitated. But when her eyes locked with Dale’s, she nodded. The men bowed their heads as she began.

  “By your grace, O Maker, we beseech you, go before these men. Steel their hearts with your nearness. Grant them strength in their weakness and the courage to overcome fear. May your favor go with them and may you keep them in their darkest hour. Alunde andra.”

  “Alunde ver ti,” the men responded in unison.

  Dale surveyed the men as they lifted their heads. With the exception of Sergeant Bixby, who had a ravenous look on his face with his war hammer in one hand and an axe in the other, everyone looked scared.

  “First dibs on a kingsman be mine!” shouted the Berserker, pumping his weapons in the air. “Lest any of ye quaking boots have something to say about it!”

  “Quaking boots my ass, highlander! No Berserker will feed before me!” cried a voice in the back. “My country; my right!”

  The others erupted in a collective roar.

  “Let the blood of the Baleans stain our swords!” another shouted.

  Another roar.

  The sergeant’s bravado stirred the men into a zealous uproar. With each primal roar, the men forgot their fears. But as they marched out, the somber reality resettled over them. In silence they passed Selah who watched them with her hands clasped and pressed to her lips. As Dale walked by her, he gave her a reassuring nod. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

  Two hours later, they reached the edge of the Lowers, marked by a precise tree line against the prairie. The air was crisp. The sky was well lit by a low-hanging moon. The light gave clear definition to the dark silhouette of the skyship hovering high above. For the first time, Dale took a careful look. Instead of sails attached to the masts, there were large hot air balloons. There were propellers at the ends of wings on both sides of the hull. A third propeller was mounted on the back in place of a rudder. It was armed with a battery of cannons and a hatch on its belly for bombing. It was like nothing Dale had ever seen. The Balean’s answer to the Ancile.

  From their position, Dale could also see the Ancile. The outer walls had been leveled. Breached and overrun. The Republic’s symbol of security and strength was now a monument to its great collapse.

  Darius and his recon team took turns staking out the fortress through a spyglass. They took note of the guards and planned the most effective approach. Then Darius stooped low, made his way over to where Dale waited with his men.

  “You ready?” Dale asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “How long do we wait?”

  Darius checked his watch.

  “Any second now.”

  Not a minute later, there was a rumble. And then the crackling of rifle fire in the distance. The Ancile came alive. Balean soldiers scrambled to reinforce the east wall where Mills and his men were in full frontal assault.

  “This is it. Wish me luck.”

  “Wait, Dare…be careful.”

  Darius and his team of six men charged into the open field hunched low like a pack of wolves. The moonlight did not help their approach, but their camouflage gave them some cover. They ran in spurts, spread thin, until they vanished from Dale’s vision.

  Dale summoned his men and had them line up with the other fireteams. Their rifles were loaded with the incendiary ammo, fixed on the skyship above. An explosion erupted on the east end of the Ancile.

  “Damn,” said Bixby, with a smirk. “Mills be making quite the ruckus.” Then he looked at Dale. “Just give us the word, Little Sunday, and we’ll rain hell on yon balloon boat.”

  They waited. Fifteen minutes passed. The skyship did not budge.

  “It’s taking too long,” Dale muttered.

  “Eh?”

  “He should be there by now. Where’s the windlass?”

  “The west wall. Over there,” Bixby said, pointing. Then handing Dale his spyglass, he added, “There be a contraption of sorts between the fourth and fifth enfilades on a raised platform.”

  “I see it.”

  At the bottom of the magnified image cropped in the lens, Dale noticed six rustling shrubs inching up to the platform. There were two guards posted on it. Dale panned the lens across the wall. Just south o
f the platform, he saw a figure emerge from the top of the southwest parapet along the fifth enfilade. It was a patrolman. And by the angle of their approach, Dale knew Darius couldn’t have seen him from the ground.

  He handed Bixby the lens.

  “Southwest wall, the guard overlooking the target.”

  “Nay was he there before.”

  It wasn’t what Dale wanted to hear.

  “Suppose ye the major noticed?”

  “It’s a difficult angle,” Dale replied. “If they didn’t, this mission’s about to be compromised.”

  He looked back at his team and called forward the archer and an infantryman. “Christoph, Barret, on me.” Turning to Bixby, he said, “Sergeant, I’m guessing you’re coming with me as well.”

  “Aye.”

  “The rest of you, keep an eye on that ship. When it’s in range, fire.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dale led the three men on a reckless run to the platform.

  Meanwhile, Darius and his men had swiftly and stealthily dispatched the two guards standing beside the windlass. But as soon as they began winding the winch, the grating noise drew the attention of the guard on the parapet above them. He peered down and saw Darius’ team.

  “Enemies at the windlass!” he cried, and blew the trumpet.

  “Christoph!” Dale shouted as soon as they were within an arrow’s distance.

  The archer propped himself up on one knee, aimed, and released. The patrolman was struck. But the trumpet’s call was already in the air. In response, the gates were raised. The first wave of infantry came rushing out, fifteen strong, followed closely by a cavalry of five troopers.

  While two of Darius’ men continued to wind the winch, the others set up a perimeter around the platform. They readied themselves for the closing infantry.

  The skyship was slowly sinking.

  The five troopers on horseback spotted Christoph and galloped to his position. Dale and his men sprawled in the tall grass. Their archer continued to fire on the troopers closing in on him. He managed to fell two of the horsemen. Just as the other three reached Christoph, they were ambushed by Dale and his men.

  Bixby threw one trooper off his horse with his hammer. A follow-up swing crushed the trooper’s head like a melon. Barrett cut down the horse of another and was in a sword fight. With little battle experience, he was being driven back by the strength of his opponent. The last trooper, not seeing Dale, tried to circle around to Barrett’s flank. As he was about to overtake Barrett, Dale struck him from behind. Bixby came to the assistance of Barrett and split the last trooper open with his axe.

  With all of the riders down, Dale and Bixby mounted the nearest horses and made straight for the windlass. Christoph and Barrett retrieved the other two horses and followed closely behind.

  From fifty paces away, Dale saw the Balean infantrymen line up and prepare to fire on Darius’ recon team. Dale whipped his horse. It was already in full gallop. He gripped the reins white-knuckled, desperate. “Please, God. O Maker, please.”

  He could see the Balean soldiers. It was too late. He looked to the recon team and immediately spotted Darius among his men. “Darius!”

  Darius turned to him—his eyes wide, his lower jaw slack. They locked eyes and Dale heard the shots. Dale saw Darius blink and flinch as the dust burst off his jacket in a violent jolt. The lifeless body collapsed.

  As Dale turned to the Balean line, he heard bullets whiz past him. Some of the Balean soldiers, seeing Dale and Bixby approaching, had turned their rifles on them. By the time the rest of the line realized what was happening, Dale had drawn his sword and was riding through them. As his horse stampeded through the line, Dale hacked away indiscriminately. Once he had ripped through, Dale jumped off his horse to go after what was left of the Balean unit. He saw that Bixby had already dismounted and was wielding both hammer and axe on a group now in total disarray. Some were trying to reload their rifles even as Bixby was bearing down on them. Still others were dropping their rifles and in a panic trying to draw their swords. Christoph and Barrett rode in to what was quickly becoming a slaughter.

  Dale saw three men running back toward the gate. He gave chase. Dale cut down the one trailing behind the others. The second spotted Dale and turned around. Before he could bring his rifle up to defend himself, Dale lowered his shoulder and plowed through him. A few paces from the Ancile, he caught the frontrunner and tackled him from behind. Dale bounced to his feet and saw that the soldier was unarmed. Lying on his back, he raised his hands. Before he could say anything, Dale swung his sword through his arms and down onto his neck. Without hesitation, he ran for the soldier he had knocked down. He was on his feet, picking up his rifle. Dale charged him with the point of his sword and ran him through.

  Lying on top of the soldier with his sword buried in him, Dale heard himself. It was a cry, a yell from somewhere deep inside a person. A place where there is no inhibition. When he heard it, he stopped. There was silence. He slowly got up and pulled his sword out. When he turned to where they had met the Balean infantry line, he saw Bixby and the two other men standing motionless, staring at him, their weapons hanging limp at their sides.

  Dale dropped his sword and ran toward the windlass. As he started for his brother, all he saw were strewn bodies. There was no movement. When he got to him, there was blood everywhere. He turned him over. Darius’ mouth was full of blood; his eyes were open and empty.

  “Dare…Darius. Please.” He held him over his lap. Bursts of air escaped Dale’s lungs through his nostrils in muted convulsions. He cursed in spits like the rattling lid of a boiling pot.

  Bixby and the others ran behind Dale to the windlass. Bixby ordered Christoph to work the windlass, as he and Barrett stood by with an eye on the gate. Any minute, reinforcements were sure to stream out of the Ancile. The skyship began to descend.

  As the low-hanging skyship eclipsed the light of the moon, the resistance emerged from the shelter of the forest and ran out onto the field. A column-formation of trees, six riflemen in rank and four in file, the irregulars standing by. They stopped twenty paces out. Rifles were lined up to the balloon. The incendiary ammo left trails of light as they darted through the air. An ascending meteor shower. When they reached their target, the gas in the balloon ignited into an enormous fireball.

  The sky above the Ancile was set ablaze. A momentary evening sun. As the explosion dissipated, it rained fire. And as if the favor of the Maker were guiding its descent, the hull came crashing down directly on top of the Ancile. Over the shower of flaming debris, a collective cheer could be heard erupting from the resistance on both ends of the fortress.

  Dale didn’t see any of it. Even as he sat right under the explosion and ensuing crash, he did not take notice. He sat hunched over the body of his dead brother.

  The skyship’s fall on the Ancile halted the Balean soldiers streaming out of the gate. They looked up and then scurried away from the burning debris. Under Bixby’s orders, Christoph and Barrett were already mounted and retreating across the field to regroup with the others. Bixby jumped on a horse and rode over to Dale.

  “We best be moving, Little Sunday!”

  Dale did not respond. Clutching Darius, he slumped onto his side. Bixby jumped off his horse, grabbed Dale under both arms and forcefully pulled him away from Darius. Dale did not release his grip. Seeing that he was dragging both bodies, Bixby lowered himself over Dale. He grabbed him by the collar and shook him violently.

  “He’s dead! And soon we be joining him if ye nay get on your feet!”

  Dale turned to him with his eyes peeled back like a lunatic. He beat Bixby off him with a flurry. And again, he plopped down next to Darius.

  Bixby looked back toward the gate. The Balean soldiers were beginning to regroup. Even as the darkness of night was restored, at such short distance, standing near the platform, Bixby was in plain sight. And from the commotion, he knew he had been spotted. He could see a wave of soldiers starting toward him
. Some even from a distance began to discharge rifle rounds. Bixby stepped around Dale and kicked him in the side of the head followed by a punch. Then he hoisted a dazed Dale over his shoulder, slipped him onto his horse, and saddled up. As Bixby turned his horse toward the tree line, he looked back and saw that the Balean soldiers had stopped running toward him and were instead taking aim. Behind them, he saw Shaldean Riders on their Saracen Gliders speeding out of the Ancile.

  With a yell, Bixby gave the horse a strong kick. Bullets whizzed by his head as he made himself as small as he could. Curled over Dale, Bixby rode toward the tree line.

  CH 43

  BORDERLAND RIDGE RUN

  We’re not leaving him!”

  “Listen, Prioress. The kid wasn’t part of the agreement. My job is to get you and the Champ safely to Valorcourt. If you want to compromise that, that’s your call. But don’t expect me to wait around here for Baleans in a fury to find us. Especially harboring a Meredian resistance fighter.”

  Dale’s eyes opened. When he sat up, the commotion in the room ceased. They all turned to him. Selah and Valkyrie were in the center of the tent and Alaric stood at the door. Selah walked over to Dale, crouching to look into his tear stained face. The tears had smudged the blood and dirt. His eyes were swollen and his lips dried and cracked. He was still half-dressed in his battle raiment, tree branches and leaves hanging off his body.

  “By the Maker’s grace, you’re alive,” said Selah. She sat beside him. “How do you feel?”

  Dale was sore in so many places that his head was throbbing.

  Selah sat beside him and studied his barely opened eyes. “It appears you were grazed by a bullet. We dressed it. Your hand as well. You may have broken it but we can’t be sure.”

  Dale looked at his hand. It had been bound in bandage.