“Be careful,” the General advised and called up the computer’s estimated range from Athelney to the Hill. The readout said 37.18 miles. “You’ve only about twenty-seven more miles to go to the objective; don’t take any chances with the axles. We’re flying back to lead you in.”
“Yes Sir,” Lemay replied.
As they flew along over open country the Earl was very impressed, instantly aware of the advantages the planes gave the General in fighting. Success in war was mostly due to information, and these strangers did not take any chances. The planes took a wandering course back toward Athelney, looking for any possible dangers. They didn’t spot any but Captain Gardner spied a well used track which ran through the forests to the north of their position. They quickly scouted the road and found it moved through the area nearly all the way to Countisbury. Satisfied they swung back and finally met the ground forces about halfway to the Hill. Both pilots and General Peebles noticed immediately that there were no horses or knights in the forward units, but it took the Earl a few minutes longer to see that indeed none of his men had kept pace with the magic wagons of the strangers. Both the large and small wagons were moving much too quickly for the horses to keep up for more than a mile or two. Even from the air the Earl could tell the wagons were moving fast, and could not believe the speed they were able to maintain. It was beyond all reason, but even their great swiftness was no match for riding in the flying dragon boat, and for the first time his fear was replaced by the feeling of power and exhilaration.
“Colonel, there’s a road of sorts perhaps a quarter mile to the north,” Peebles informed the group below. “It runs through some thick wooded areas up ahead almost the entire way to Countisbury. It should supply a smoother ride.”
“Roger,” Lemay replied and the group immediately veered to the north.
Once the vehicles were on the road, Goode and Gardner veered off and dropped both their altitude and speed and led the group to an open meadow maybe one klick from the Hill. They had no additional problems in transit, though they had to rumble across another much smaller creek. Once the ground troops were in position, both planes climbed a bit, and circled for several moments before finding a suitable place to land nearby. They slowed and touched down doing no more than fifty miles an hour. Two Humvees were waiting for them by the side of the field. As soon as the General stepped from the Bot several soldiers began to disassemble and fold the wings so that it could be towed behind one of the trucks. The other, however, was left intact.
“Sir Æthelred,” Peebles said approaching the Earl, who stood smiling beside his plane, “if you would leave your helmet on you’ll be able to communicate with us much easier.”
The Earl’s smile faltered a little as the faceless man approached. It was the Genaral talking, and he was reasonably sure it was the Genaral approaching. He hated the helmets they wore, but he nodded and left his own on.
“It seems that the horses were not able to keep up. How long would you guess before they arrive?”
The Earl thought for a spell. “It would be some time…methinks the trip wold take a long day at least…if’n they rode hard and left those afoot behind.”
The helmeted man before him gave the briefest of nods. “Then we will not wait. I’d like to get this done before nightfall, even though waiting for dark would give us a definite advantage.” He was relieved he had time before the knights arrived, positive that they would do nothing but add to the confusion of the fighting. He didn’t want any innocents hurt or killed by friendly fire...a problem that had been solved as long as all friendlies were wearing IWS gear.
The Earl was stunned, but said nothing. Mayhap these strange giants could do what they said. He could still not see how that was possible. Even with the combined men of Mercia and Somerset he’d expected to mount a long siege, maybe a month or more.
“Colonel, how far can the enemy’s archers reach?”
“Sir, no more than two hundred yards, unless the Vikings have better bows than the English. The long bow hasn’t been invented yet.”
“Na, our bows are the best,” the Earl confirmed understanding at least part of the conversation.
“Yah,” the Ealdorman agreed, though he was not in sight and the Earl wondered where he was and how he had arrived so quickly.
“Right,” the General said. “Let’s set up a perimeter about a half a klick out. The ocean is at their backs, and the field around the Hill is flat and free of trees. They won’t be able to flank us. Captain Gardner, get back up in the air, I want a constant three mile sweep for approaching bogeys.”
“Understood.” Gardner replied and then switched over from the officer’s frequency to the general battle frequency or GBF, which was primarily used during field operations. If an officer was caught monitoring the wrong frequency by the IWS, a warning beep would sound in his ear, automatically signaling him to switch over. With undisciplined troops the frequencies could break down into indecipherable gibberish, but seasoned troops spoke only when absolutely necessary, getting all the information they needed through their TVD.
“Your carriage awaits, Sir Æthelred,” Peebles said with a slight bow, and a wave to the nearest hummer. The Earl went where he was led and soon found himself in the back of a small magic wagon next to the man called Curnell Lemay. At least he thought it was Lemay, the helmets had him thoroughly confused and he could not tell anymore.
“All right let’s go GBF,” Peebles said and all the officers switched over, including Major Thane back at Athelney, though at nearly forty miles away receiving from their home base was unreliable without satellites.
“Switch the Earl over.”
The Colonel flipped a switch on the side of the Earl’s helmet and suddenly his ears were alive with many voices.
“This is Red One, cut the chatter and move into positions.” The vehicles all began to roll forward, up and over a hill so that the Stronghold was directly before them, though it was still almost a mile away. What the Danes thought of the approaching army was anyone’s guess, but no one really considered it. The General halted his party exactly three hundred yards from the front of the Stronghold. From this distance he could plainly see a dozen or so people on the parapets of the towers even without magnification. The rest of the formation fanned out as planned and covered at most, a quarter of a mile. Peebles wanted his force concentrated against any unforeseen threats.
Corporal Newton pulled up in a hummer containing the Ealdorman, his son Harden and Sir Oldalf and stopped next to the command vehicle.
“I’d na miss this,” the Ealdorman said with a chuckle.
The Earl nodded and noted the Ealdorman’s son. “Æthelstan?” He asked referring to his own son.
“He be invited forsooth, but he be a’feared of the magic wagons and stuck to his horse,” the Ealdorman replied. The Earl understood, but wished his son was here with him.
The General stood by, but ignored the two English Lords, his mind now completely on the mission at hand. “Colonel, get me a couple of sharpshooters in the best positions they deem available,” he ordered, dimly wishing that Captain Duncan Hoff was still with them. He was the best shooter they had, but of course, they’d left him behind in the future. “I want them ready in two minutes, and I want two mortars set up behind our position.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Captain Gardner are you up?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Detecting any covert movement from our friends in the Stronghold?”
“Negative.”
“The surrounding area?”
“Negative...all clear.”
General Peebles then turned to the Earl. “Can you talk to the Danes? I want to give them the chance to surrender.”
The Earl stared at the blank visor before him in disbelief. The Danes never surrendered. Everyone knew that. If the odds were against them they went berserker, and were even more dangerous than ever.
“Yah, but I’ll na get in range of their bows.”
&n
bsp; Corporal Newton anticipating this, held up a bullhorn and handed it to the Earl, then took several moments to show him how to use it. The Earl, the Ealdorman and his son Harden, smiled...amazed, but still jumped at every loud noise the horn emitted. Sir Æthelred hesitated to use the contraption, but then with a gesture from the General stepped forward a few paces. He spoke loudly and clearly in a language neither Peebles, nor any of his men understood. The Ealdorman, however, translated into the GBF.
“He hath called the Danes bastard heathens and demanded that they leave these lands posthaste.”
Everyone could hear the laughter as it erupted from the walls of the Stronghold, and then one of the Danes stood on the very top and edge of the wall. He yelled something which was lost in the distance and then began pissing at them, though it fell well short.
“I’d say they rejected the offer,” Colonel Lemay said dryly.
“Target acquired Sir,” Captain Hersey said. “I could shoot his dick off,” he quipped and laughter erupted all over the GBF.
Peebles smiled. “Maintain discipline over the frequency,” he ordered and the laughter immediately stopped. “Let’s not get lax gentlemen. We need to remove this threat with no casualties. Let’s focus.”
Everyone sobered immediately.
“Computer magnify times twenty,” the General said once order was restored. “Sir Æthelred, Sir Æthelnoth, could either of you tell me who the leader of this rabble is if you saw him?” Both answered negatively.
“Ubba takes na prisoners,” the Ealdorman replied.
Nevertheless, Newton handed each of them a pair of binoculars and gave brief instructions on their use. The locals immediately began to point them all over the place, at many different targets before they finally settled on each other, laughing like children at Christmas. Newton tapped the Earl on the shoulder, who immediately looked at him through the binoculars and then he lowered them and saw that the young man was pointing toward the Stronghold. They quickly calmed themselves, and looked out at the Danes.
“Remarkable,” the Ealdorman said. Then passed them to his son Harden, who was anxious to see what the fuss was about. Newton soon arrived with another set.
“Yah, I’d say the big one, just behind the one showin’ his arse,” the Earl added, choosing a possible leader. “He seems a sour lot, grim and tough. Ubba’s said to be vary large.”
“As good as any I suppose,” the General said, easily picking out the one the Earl had singled out. “Captain Hersey, acquire the large target near the back...the man with the red sash.”
“Target acquired...”
“Please watch closely Sir Æthelred...Captain, you may take out the target.”
There was a hush as the Earl and the Ealdorman looked on, not really knowing what to expect, then there was a small pop off to their left and an instant later the large Dane’s head jerked back, and a red mist appeared behind him. Almost immediately he dropped straight down and out of sight. It took several moments before the Danes around him realized that one of their own was dead, and even then it was doubtful that they attributed his death to the enemy that challenged them from the field.
“Sir Æthelred,” General Peebles said calmly, recalling the exact words Rice had recommended he use. “Please tell them that we are messengers from the thunder god, and if they do not leave this land Thor himself will rain hammers down upon them.”
The Earl shakily lowered the binoculars wondering what manner of men these be who could see and kill men from such distances...Yah, they may be men, but raining hammers from above did not seem possible for any save gods, though it was blaspheme to even think such a thing. Nevertheless, he raised the bullhorn and did exactly as he was told.
“Computer magnify times thirty.” The Danes made no move to leave, and the Earl was again riveted to the scene with his binoculars. He could vaguely hear the Ealdorman at his side whispering a prayer, each of them wondering just what sort of hammers would be coming down upon their enemies.
“Methinks tis a bad day to be a Dane,” Harden whispered, very excited. Both older men agreed silently.
“Corporal Waldfogel...”
“Sir…”
“I want five shells inside those walls in twenty seconds...repeat five shells only.”
“Five shells. Yes, Sir.”
The locals waited anxiously, hardly breathing.
“Whooomp! Whooomp!” came a pair of odd sounds from behind them and moments later the sky opened up and hammers indeed dropped from the heavens. The three locals gasped at the first explosion, astounded as rock and dirt was thrown high into the air. By the time the last of the shells fell, the Ealdorman was on his knees, unable to stand the sounds of the explosions even at a distance.
“… we beseech thee...” he mumbled over and over stunned beyond thought, but still he kept his binoculars on the Stronghold, gruesomely fascinated by the events. Harden said nothing, in fact he wasn’t even looking at the Stronghold, instead he was face down in the dirt covering his ears. But the Earl had the Stronghold directly in his sights, and he could see smoke and fire coming from inside as an entire section of the eastern wall disintegrated. “Jesus...Jesus...” he whispered in disbelief.
“I want that gate down now,” Peebles yelled, battle adrenaline beginning to flood his body. He’d wondered over the past few days just how he and his men would react to fighting humans...after so much loss. He feared it might be difficult to kill, but he underestimated what five years of constant war, constant killing could do to a human psyche. They killed without thought or feeling, Skawp or human. A rocket streaked into the air even before the command was completely passed his lips, and the General smiled. He and his were trained and primed beyond anything the locals could comprehend. They were professional, disciplined, and very deadly. They were the best of what was left of old Earth, and they were by far the best in this new world. The rocket exploded with a blast that left the gate to the Stronghold and most of the surrounding walls in rubble. The General waited just a brief second, but nothing moved on the other side of the breach.
“Cover fire on the top wall,” he said and three M60 machine guns opened up and rained lead onto the parapets. The locals watched excited and terrorized at the same time.
“I see two cross slits in each tower,” Colonel Lemay said suddenly, carefully scanning the area for any threat. Since the first couple of explosions he’d only caught sight of a couple of Danes. They died quickly.
“Covering fire,” the General ordered and another pair of M60’s erupted onto the new targets.
“Sergeant Sadao, move your team in now. Kill at your discretion. I’d like as many survivors as possible but take no chances.” Two of the trucks immediately raced over the flat land to the smashed gate, and men poured out and rushed inside, with the M60’s fire covering their movements at all times.
The Earl watched the men as they made practiced moves, very precise, very quick. ‘Twas almost like a dance,’ he thought.
“Jefferies move your team in to cover and re-enforce.”
“Yes Sir,” the Corporal answered and moved his team to about fifty feet of the front gate. Two hummers with their powerful M60’s came along.
“Cease covering fire. Hersey, Carlos...any non-friendlies show themselves take them out pronto.”
“Aye Sir.”
“Computer heartbeats,” Sadao said and instantly all non-friendly heartbeats which were not directly linked to the IWS, showed on their visors, giving them the relative distance and direction of every charlie. There were approximately two hundred and eighty. Almost immediately they were rushed by a hoard of angry and frightened men, and within five minutes the number of Danes plummeted to forty-three, most of these were injured or women. Eight of the heartbeats however, were in a portion of the Stronghold which seemed to have no access at all. It was upstairs, off one of the larger sleeping quarters...but after fifteen minutes Sadao found a loose slab of rock. It was hinged and opened easily revealing a small room, eight b
y ten at most, with no windows. There were eight large Danes huddled together. One, bolstered by his own fear, raised his enormous axe and dashed forward. He was shot dead before he completed his first step. The others immediately dropped to their knees before the faceless apparitions challenging them. They prayed to their gods, who were obviously displeased to send such demons among them, and though the Danes were vicious fighters, living for the glory of battle, it seemed pointless for them to fight, since their enemies killed without even touching their foes.
“Secure,” Sadao said over the com, as his men moved the disarmed Danes out into the larger room and sprawled them out onto the floor face down while they searched for additional weapons. They found a variety of knives, but nothing else.
“No injuries.” Sadao confirmed.
Peebles breathed a sigh of relief. The Earl and the Ealdorman were stunned speechless and the Earl couldn’t help but wonder about the danger these men presented to himself and his King.
“Captain Gardner...situation?” the General asked as he switched his TVD to Sadao’s view so he could get a look at the Danes.
“Clear.”
“Captain Hersey, move the rest of the force in close and set up a perimeter around the Stronghold. Captain Gardner, give me twenty minutes.”
“Aye Sir.”
General Peebles toggled back to his own view and looked over at the locals but asked Sadao. “How many prisoners?”
“Forty-one with twelve women and nineteen wounded. We’re tending to them now…and oh; I believe we may have actually captured their leader.”
“Interesting,” the General replied with a quick thought for the unlucky bastard on the rooftop.
“Gentlemen,” he said to the local noblemen, and motioned to what was left of the gates of the Stronghold. “If you would be so kind as to translate for us,” he said and led the way. The Earl was visibly shaken but he was in far better shape than Æthelnoth, who slowly climbed to his feet.
The Temporal Knights Page 18
