“So what will be the outcome of our using our machines, against the will of the Gods?”
“You mean if you continue to use them, until they lose their power and are no longer of any use?”
“Yes,” he answered, nodding. “Because if we don’t use them we are doomed. We need the time they give us to organize ourselves to the rules of this world, to defeat this enemy that is moving against us.”
“The machines and weapons will begin to fail,” she said, inclining her head in the manner of her people. “Eventually nothing will work. The Gods will not listen to your prayers for a while. Then things will return to normal.”
“I would rather ask forgiveness of your Gods,” said the man, shrugging his shoulders, “than ask for permission.”
The priestess laughed at that remark, thinking that it was similar to one she had heard on this world. An accomplished feat was already in the bag, so to speak. And the gods could be supplicated later. But she also felt that the man did not truly comprehend the powers of the deities of this world.
The woman sat for a moment, her head down, thinking of how to put what she wanted to convey to the General, without offending anyone. She looked back up and spread her hands in a gesture of supplication.
“I realize how you must feel about our deities, after worshipping the one on your world. Ours may seem very petty to you, like spoiled children. And in some ways they can act like a petulant child. But they give us real power, to use, to help us to live on this world. You might turn your backs on them, continue to have faith in your Overgod, and not really suffer much. But the world of magic will be a closed book to you.”
“I have no choice but to continue on this path,” said Taylor, grimacing. “I have a responsibility for these people.”
“They are not your people, are they?” asked the priestess. “I know that some of the soldiers are. But the civilians are not your people, though you feel responsible for them.”
“No,” admitted Taylor. “They are the people of an allied government. But I am an American. I really don’t know what happened to my own people. Probably some of them are on this planet right now, maybe going through the same things we are going through.”
“They shall come from another world, to battle the Empire of Evil,” said Makillia, softly. “And a King of the people, one of great power, shall lead the armies of light to glory. Victorious in the end of the long and deadly struggle. He shall destroy the Emperor of Death, and forge an alliance of all the peoples. That the forces of light might triumph, on the final day of battle, far into the mists of the future.”
“Your prophecy?” asked Taylor.
The elfin woman gave him a head incline, followed by a human nod.
“I’ve never heard it actually quoted,” he continued. “Obviously I’m not the leader they talk about, because I’m not of this people. Unless a whole bunch of Americans drop in unexpectedly.”
“You are still a leader,” said the Conyastaya, smiling. “A leader of great will and ability. But one will come that will lead into the future.”
“I wish he would hurry his ass up and get here,” said the General under his breath.
The sharp eared woman heard the whisper and smiled. This is a good man and a great leader. The fact that he doesn’t want the position proves that to me.
“We have one other thing to discuss, General,” said the priestess, leaning forward in her seat and steepling her fingers. She could tell by the expression on his face that he knew it wouldn’t be good.
“The largest of the moons will be full tonight,” she continued.
“And that means,” he said, then grimaced. “It means all kinds of beasties will be out and about, won’t it?”
“You know?” she asked in surprise.
“There are all kinds of legends on our world about werewolves and other beasts that change when the moon is full,” said Taylor. “It seems that our legends come from here. Like somehow the images of this world come through in our dreams and imagination. But what kind of beasties are we talking about?”
“Not all evil,” said the priestess, smiling. “Bears and stags are mostly good, though you still don’t want to make them angry. Some wolves are good, some are evil. Boars are mostly evil. And some are just animals, very strong and almost impossible to kill, but not trying to kill sentient beings during the night.”
“And the ones that are evil?” asked Taylor.
“Very difficult to kill,” said the woman. “It takes silver or enchanted weapons to harm them. When all three moons are full, which, thank the Gods, doesn’t occur for years at a time, they are invulnerable. Still, I would think that our enemy would try to see to it that plenty of lycanthropes were on hand tonight to strike your people.”
“Well, we got plenty of silver from that dragon’s lair we took the other day,” said the General. “And lots of well-made weapons that might be magical. If you could help us identify some of those, we might be able to give the werebeasts something to remember here in the valley. And we can call our units in the field and see if they can do something to equip themselves. Anything else that might harm them, or at least drive them away?”
“A lot of things,” said the woman. “I will contact my people and see if they can bring some of the herbs or religious symbols to your people. We will help all we can. But I believe the attack will still cause some harm to your people.”
“This is war, ma’am,” said Taylor. “Complete and total war of survival. We have to expect that some of our people will be harmed. As long as we harm more of our enemy, and survive to carry on, we win.”
Yes, thought the priestess, looking at the man. It will be worth our while to hitch our wagons to this star.
Chapter Four
The column stretched back for miles on the cobbled road. Thousands of mounted lancers, along with lesser thousands of supporting horse archers, led the column. Tens of thousands of infantry of the Grogatha people ate the dust of the cavalry. There were knots of huge Gilli’groth in their heavy armor, pushing the lesser Grogatha aside, snarling at them when the smaller beings objected.
Overhead flew flights of giant hawks, the scouts of the army. Horsemen were also flung out ahead and to the sides, so that the force would not be surprised in its march.
Already having traveled several days, covering a hundred kilometers of road from the fortress base of the army, the force had left a desolate landscape behind as they lived off the land. Several cattle were being driven along the road, and the last Kashana’liya village had been cleaned out of food for the night’s rations. The little folk had complained, until a half dozen decapitations had silenced their resolve. The army of the Empire had to eat, and it was the duty of the citizens to see that the army was taken care of, no matter the cost to the citizens.
General Lissillanda Kellinsinda reined his horse in as a quartet of scouts approached the front of the column. Three Conyastaya Elves ran along the sides of the horses, their wrists tied to the saddles by stout rawhide straps. Obviously prisoners, and very probably spies.
“My Lord,” called one of the scouts, reining up to the General as the other three pulled to a stop, glaring at their prisoners. “We found these pigs hanging around the perimeter of the column, watching us.”
“We were just hunting, my Lord,” said one of the prisoners, a tall Elf in buckskins like the rest. An empty leather sheath was attached to his belt, one that had held a long knife.
“They were hunting with these,” called out one of the other scouts, tossing some arrows onto the grass.
The General looked down on the shafts with his sharp eyes. They were not the bone or flint tipped hunting arrows allowed Conyastaya so that they might hunt the woods and feed themselves. They were the forbidden steel tipped war arrows. One of the arrows glowed faintly, an armor piercing penetrator.
“Out hunting armored prey, eh,” said the General, glaring at the prisoners. “You know that war arrows are forbidden to your people, unless you ar
e in Imperial service.”
“We must needs protect ourselves while on the hunt,” said the Elf, his eyes showing no fear.
“From us?” said the General, gesturing toward the mighty force behind him. “If I wanted I could wipe your entire tribe from the planet, and there would be no protection for you.”
“What should we do with them, my Lord?” asked the Sergeant of Scouts who was not attached to a prisoner. “Perhaps slit their throats and leave them for the wolves?”
“No,” said the General, staring into the eyes of the Elf who had spoken. “That would be a waste of energy. Bring them along. We’ll sacrifice them to the Death Gods before we go into battle. Then their miserable souls can serve the Gods of Darkness for eternity.”
“You miserable son of a whore,” shouted the talkative Conyastaya. “You will burn in hell for this.”
“As will you,” said the General, laughing. “But I’ll see some more days of life, and my Gods may have more use for me than the eternal chorus of pain. Now take them away.”
Kellinsinda looked away, turning his attention back to the column, as a company of Grogatha infantry marched by. Arrow fodder, he thought. But they were good at stopping arrows. And good at splitting skulls, those who made it through the arrows.
My orders are to wait for General Jonosaurus to come up before I attack, he thought, watching the next infantry company march by, this of Gimikran, the Dwarves of the forest, unwilling soldiers at best. But if I wait for my rival to come up he will be in command, and the glory will go to him. The General looked at a map of the territory in his mind, seeing the routes to be marched, and realized that his force would reach the rendezvous two days ahead of Jonosaurus. And he would have two other armies there with him, over a hundred thousand men, as well as the horde of dragons. He could steal a march on his rival and attack with the forces gathered there, who would be bound to obey his commands as the ranking officer on the scene. And with a victory under his belt the Emperor would be sure to forgive him his disobedience to orders, and he might supplant his rival as the supreme commander in this section of the Empire.
Better to ask forgiveness, he thought, than permission. Of course with this Emperor there is no forgiveness.
* * *
Kurt looked out of the back of the truck as it drove down the dirt road that had been scraped from the valley floor. He had been impressed by the moats that the engineers had dug at the entrance of the valley, as well as the piled earthworks that were being enclosed on the outer side by a log palisade. It looked to him like whomever wanted to attack the valley from this direction would have to spend a lot of lives to enter. He also didn’t doubt that they would pay the lives to try.
The road continued along the river. Tractors were out clearing land that looked to be rich soil. Tent cities were everywhere, along with people at work preparing more substantial earthwork bunkers. The air was clear, the valley surrounded by steep mountains, and it seemed to him an ideal stronghold for the Earth people. Whoever had chosen the site had made a wise choice, and he approved of the reasoning.
“I think this is an ideal location,” said Levine, echoing his thoughts.
They passed by a scraped area on which sat a dozen lethal looking helicopters, parked in earthen revetments, guarded by armed men on foot and a couple of antiaircraft vehicles. All about was activity as men in vehicles and on foot worked to prepare the valley for occupation. More distant were several more tent cities to which lines of civilians on foot were headed.
“This is a large valley,” said Levine as they continued on their way. “Much like the Shenandoah in America.”
“You are familiar with America?” asked Jackie, her ears perking up.
“I fought in three wars of that land,” said the ancient man. “Their Revolution, the War Between the States, and the second war against Germany.” As he mentioned the last he looked hard at his German friend, then shook his head. “Those times are passed, and we must now look to the future.”
Kurt felt some of the old guilt come back. He had not engaged in the killing of Jews and the others that were persecuted by the madman. But his fighting the war, wasn’t that a tacit approval of sorts? It was something that had bothered him for decades, and he had done penance where he could. He never thought he would do enough.
He looked out over the valley from the open sides of the truck, its canvas flaps raised. The mountains looked far off in the clear air. At least tens of kilometers off, with plenty of flat land, mostly forested, in between. And he had heard that it was over a hundred kilometers in length, closer to two hundred, with only a few means of entry that were being fortified at this moment. A perfect position, especially with hundreds of thousands of people to prepare for. Another sign that God was looking after them? Or just coincidence?
“What side did you fight on in the Civil War?” asked Jackie, her eyes leaving the scenery to focus again on the ancient Immortal.
“The Union of course,” answered the Jew, smiling. “While I sympathized with the South wanting their rights, I could not abide by their peculiar institution. Slavery struck me as wrong in the Roman Empire, and it still struck me as wrong in the antebellum South.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Jackie. “And which regiment did you fight with?”
“Several,” said Levine, grimacing at the thought. “I was severely wounded on several occasions. Once I had a leg taken off. I had to leave the front, recuperate from wounds that spelled either death or disability to others, and reenlist under another name, in a different unit. I learned to move to another theater of the war if possible, after being recognized by a comrade in the Army of the Potomac. After that I moved to the West and fought with Grant, then Sherman.”
“There were a lot of people in my neck of the woods who still consider those two names curse words,” said Jackie, with a smile. “Not in my family, of course. To my people they were saviors.”
‘I wish I had more to tell you of them,” said the Jew with a smile. “But I was a mere Captain, and did not run in their circles.”
“An interesting history, to be sure,” said Kurt, looking back at the man. “And where did you serve in the World War?”
“Spent the whole war in the US 2nd Armored Division,” said Levine. “Tank Commander. Only sustained a couple of superficial wounds in that one, so I didn’t have to ship out.”
“That’s remarkable,” said Kurt with a grin, “considering the monsters you were facing.”
“They didn’t know what they were facing,” said the ancient. “I had seen more of war than the entire panzer regiment we were facing in Africa. My instincts were much better developed. But I had no chance of getting the rest of the US Army to go along with my views. They had to learn the hard way, which is true of every army through history.”
“Fascinating,” agreed Jackie, patting the ancient on the hand. “And someday I’ll be able to tell people how I fought in some war centuries before.”
“If you make it,” agreed the ancient, nodding his head. “Remember that you are not indestructible. I’m not sure what would have happened to me if my head had been removed in any of those wars. I’m very sure that if I had been incinerated I would not be here this day. But if you do survive you will have an advantage I didn’t have.”
“And that is?” asked Kurt, looking curiously at the millennia old Jew.
“On Earth I could not let anyone know that I was an ageless man,” said Levine, closing his eyes. “I would be thought of as something evil, something perverted, because true men lived at most seventy or eighty years and died, normally after suffering a decade of infirmity. Or in our more modern times we would be seen as genetic aberrations, to be studied, preferably after having been confined. Those desperate to live forever would have done whatever they thought needed doing to get to the bottom of our secret, even if we were destroyed in the process. My friend here knows somewhat of this. He had to pretend to be other people, to move away from those he loved, so he would
not be seen as a beast. And I had to endure a hundred times the pain and suffering that he did.
“But here,” he continued, opening his eyes and looking around the valley, “we have a unique opportunity for our kind. Here there are humanoids who live thousands of years. There are priests who can heal the most grievous of wounds, even death. We are not total aberrations, and will be able to live out our lives without having to hide what we are. At least that is my hope.”
“How many of us are there?” asked Jackie, her hands feeling under her clothing at her chest, seeking the disappeared scars of the recent mortal wounds, proving by touch that this was not a dream. “How many on this world? How many left on Earth?”
“I am quite confident that most of the peoples on the Earth had at most one of us,” said Levine. “I base that on how many I have found through the ages. Two to a people is possible, and that has happened with the Germans, as I told my friend here earlier. How many are here, now, on this world? I would suspect all of us, however many that is. Or at least the great majority of us. Maybe fifty or a hundred. I think that we are here for a purpose, and most of us would end up here as a result of that purpose.”
“But we will probably never know,” said Jackie, looking out at what looked like small humans, next to squatting people of equal height, clearing fields.
Levine followed her gaze and wondered if they were allies or prisoners. Hopefully allies. He looked back at the light skinned black woman with the ice blue eyes and shook his head.
“Never is a long time,” he replied. “We live a long time, and who knows. We may end up back on Earth sometime in the future. I can’t say. We may find out if anyone was left behind, and what they did there in our absence. But for now here we are, and here we must make the best of it.”
Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2 Page 5
