[There are some who have said they had it on my world,] said the German, [but there was only slight proof of such.]
[And here it is proven,] said the woman in his mind. [About half of my people can do so. Maybe two thirds of the Ellala, and fewer of the humans than the eldritch peoples. I believe it will be much more numerous in your people. You may even be able to far range. And the minds of yourself, Levine and the woman, Jackie, are powerful beyond belief. Once you are trained and experienced there is no telling how much you will be able to accomplish. And it is much easier on my poor abused throat to shape your words with my mind.]
[You still speak our language very well for someone who has been at it for less than a week,] said the German, nodding.
[My Goddess gave me command of your language,] said the priestess, [to a point. And the ability to pick it up quickly.]
[But it is not my language, Fraulein,] thought the German with a mental laugh, sending her some of his native language afterwards.
[By the Goddess,] thought the woman with a scowl. [That language would destroy my poor vocal cords. And you have a great understanding of this other language.]
[Most of my people do,] thought the German. [It is the language of our strongest allies. And the ones that beat us in past wars.]
[Mighty friends indeed,] thought the Elf, nodding her head in mimicry of the German. [To be conquerors who did not want conquest, and turned the defeated back into a mighty nation. But your people are the ones that interest me at the moment. For they are said to be the deliverers of my people from the great evil. And you are to lead them.]
[The prophecy,] thought Kurt with exasperation. [How do you know it is the German people to which it points? And why am I the leader? Why not Levine? He is much older than I. Much more powerful, in any way.]
[A mighty warrior people they shall be,] she thought at him. [Among the greatest of their world, twice humbled by a foe from across the sea, who would become their staunch friends and allies. Does this not describe your people, who are to be led by an ageless man who is one of them? I do not think that your friend is of your people, nor does he want to job.]
[Because he is not a fool,] thought Kurt with a mental chuckle. [So what are we fighting here? What power is it that so terrifies this world that you seek a savior, a deliverance from beyond your world.]
[I will open my mind to you,] thought the priestess, reaching her hands up to touch the tall man on his temples. [I will allow you to see what has transpired on this world. Why we despair. And why you bring us hope.]
Her fingers caressed his temples as she closed her eyes, her brow furrowing with concentration, sending her memories into his mind. Memories of things she had seen. And things that had been transmitted to her, from those who lived thousands of years before her. And the images formed in the brain of the German, and took on life of their own. Too many to gather at once, a hodgepodge of images. But underlying them was a structure that unified the images, allowing him to catalogue them that he might look at them in the future, when he was in need of the history they presented.
The swirl of images marched across his brain, faces, clothing, buildings. Great cities and small villages and he saw the story unfolding. How the Ellala, the longest living and most cultured of the Elves, brought civilization to the world. The Conyastaya had a culture, but it was the culture of the woods and small village, while the Ellala built great cities that expanded into realms that covered the world like a blanket of jewels. And they grew great and powerful in their magics, and the gods they worshipped waxed stronger.
Most of the Ellala worshipped the Gods of Life and of Law, two pantheons that were not always in agreement, but were most often allied in their stance against the Gods of Death and Chaos. Death and Chaos were worshipped by the Dark Elves, the Dekefini, and some of the races of men. The Ellala kept these worshippers of darkness in check, and the world prospered. At times something fell through the dimensional gates from Earth. New animal types came through, and sometimes humanoid creatures.
Neanderthal fell through at the time he was becoming extinct on the Earth. Some developed into the dwarven peoples who now burrowed under the earth, the Dimikran and Kidimikran, or dwelt in the forest, the Gimikran. Others were changed by the forces of Chaos into the Grogatha, the Orc like beings who formed the savage armies of Chaos. Other humanoids became the diminutive Kashana’liya, the Halflings, or the gnomes, the Slanayana. Gigantopithicus turned into the Trolls and some of the other giants of the world. And so too came the humans most related to those from Earth, the Cro-Magnon. These were marked by the Gods of the four pantheons to become their followers, the black, white, red and yellow humans that populated the world.
Four thousand years ago some of the Ellala turned from the pantheons of Law and Life and took up the worship of Death and Chaos. They were not satisfied with the long lives they led, and wished for the mantel of godhood themselves. The dark deities lied, as such always will, and the poor fools grabbed onto the lies as unto ropes thrown into a stormy sea. And the evil Ellala kingdoms arose, and using dark magic battled the kingdoms of light.
Earth humans came through the gates at times, and Ellala explored the Earth in small numbers, never staying long, as the non-magical universe took their life and vitality. Their dreams and thoughts and notions penetrated the veil, lodging in the minds of Earth humans and forming the archetypes that seemed to spring up in every human culture, and later become the images of popular literature and film. That was the reason why so much of this strange world, which seemed familiar to the newly arrived humans, mimicked what they had read and heard all of their lives about fantastic lands.
Some humans came through in great numbers, as in the time of Darius and his Persians, who carved out a great empire on the planet that lasted for a thousand years. Most came through in small groups that died away or survived on the fringes. There were still some of them on the world today, still some small kingdoms that dreamed of greater glories.
In most of the world the forces of light and darkness continued to battle on an even footing. But in this subcontinent between two great land masses the evil Ellala had grown in power over the last thousand years and had pushed their neighbors back. Using the short lived Grogatha and other peoples, they had eventually overwhelmed the mostly Ellala forces of other kingdoms. Ellala were long lived, but multiplied slowly compared to the shorter lived races. Kill an army of Grogatha, and they would be back in a generation of fifteen years in their teeming thousands. Kill an army of Ellala or other Elves, and it would take a millennia to rebuild.
So the Elves of Ellala’lysana used the lesser races as their shock troops and arrow fodder, and rolled over the other kingdoms of the subcontinent. Until today they were the mightiest kingdom of the world, a true Empire, poised to strike down the other kingdoms of their part of the world, on their way to becoming a global power. Until the coming of the hordes from Earth and their wondrous weapons.
[Which will soon be so many piles of immobile junk,] thought Kurt as the last images played through his brain.
[It is true then?,] thought the priestess in alarm at that last thought. [These weapons are limited in and of themselves? I had been told such by my Goddess, but seeing them in action makes that hard to believe.]
[They require ammunition and fuel,] agreed the German, nodding his head. [Fuel we might be able to make. But without the industry of our world anything more than the smallest amounts of ammunition won’t be forthcoming. Plus, I believe our scientists have come to the conclusion that they will just stop working in the near future, as the laws of your universe overcome the power of those we brought with us.]
“That is as I feared,” whispered the priestess, her shoulders sagging and her fingers leaving the temples of the human. “Perhaps you have only come to die for a lost cause. Your souls to be sacrificed to the Gods of Death.”
Kurt wondered again at the statement that he had heard before. How could the soul of one not a worshipper of evil be
sacrificed to evil? It was something he couldn’t comprehend, with his world view.
“We will think of something,” said the big German, placing a big hand gently on her shoulder. “We are an innovative nation, as are the Americans who stand with us. Give us some time and I think we will surprise these Ellala who terrorize your people.”
“If we have the ability,” said the priestess, “that is what we will do.”
“Bring some of your military leaders to us,” said Kurt, grinning. “Allow them to impart their knowledge to us, and let us know what our enemy is capable of. Do that, and we’ll search our own minds to come up with solutions to battlefield problems.”
The priestess smiled, clasping the hand to her with both of hers and looking up into his eyes. Yes, she thought, this man will lead us to victory. He doesn’t know how to contemplate defeat.
Chapter Eight
Paul Mason-Smyth coughed while he struggled to open his eyes. He was being lifted in the air, and struggled for a moment until he was dropped. His hand sought his throat, remembered as well ripped by the fangs of the were beast. The skin was sticky with half dried blood, but felt smooth to the touch.
“Captain Peters,” yelled a voice overhead. “He’s alive.”
“That’s bloody impossible,” called Peters, his voice getting closer.
The Major struggled up to a sitting position, his eyes beginning to focus. Mentally he agreed with the Captain. It was impossible that he was alive. But he was moving like any live man would move. And he could hear and see the world of the living all around him.
“Don’t you fucking move, whatever you are,” said Captain Johnny Peters, standing a dozen feet away, a large pistol in his hand and pointed at the head of Major Paul Mason-Smyth.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Johnny?” said Paul, wondering if his friend had gone mad. “I’m me. Paul. And I’m alive.”
“You sure the hell weren’t a half an hour ago,” growled the other officer, keeping his pistol leveled at the face of his superior. “You were deader than a doornail. Throat ripped out and laying there sprawled on the ground. So tell me, what the hell are you? Are you one of those creatures? Have you turned into one of those creatures? Which is it?”
“I don’t know Johnny,” said Paul, shaking his head. “I thought something tore my throat out too. I don’t know how I’m still here. But I am. And I don’t feel like a creature of the darkness.”
“Well you just sit there until we figure it out,” said the Captain, keeping the pistol leveled.
“What the bloody hell is going on here,” called out a rough voice, followed by the rough featured Lt. Colonel Simon Hardessy, walking quickly toward the confrontation. “Are you bloody insane, Johnny?” he said, scowling at the Captain. “How dare you point a weapon at a superior officer?”
“This superior officer was dead, sir,” said Peters, keeping his pistol aligned with the Major. “I saw his throat torn out by one of those monsters. You can see the blood on his collar and chest from the savaging. But here he sits, good as new. And I for one am just not comfortable about that.”
“Well what do you intend to do about it, Captain?” asked the Colonel, glaring at the officer, then glancing over at Paul. “Are you going to blow his brains out?”
“If he’s one of them, sir,” said Peters. “This gun has silver bullets, and I’m sure that’ll put paid to the bastard.”
“And if he isn’t one of them it will do the same,” said the Colonel. “I guess you could test your theory by shooting him with a regular bullet, but that kind of smacks of a witch trial. If he’s innocent he’s dead.”
“Well, sir,” growled the Captain, glaring at his superiors, “what do you suggest?”
“Sergeant Major,” called the Colonel over his shoulder. Within a moment the battalion Top Sergeant was at his side, rendering a salute.
“Get those shackles we keep at battalion for prisoners,” said the Colonel, looking at Paul. “We’ll restrain Major Mason-Smith and keep him under a guard. Make sure the men have silver bullets. And maybe keep the padre nearby as well. We’ll let the sun rise on this problem, and then look at it again.”
“I’m sorry Major,” said Hardessy to his executive officer. “I can see Peters’ point. But I also can’t see just shooting an officer of His Majesty’s Royal Army out of hand. So we will keep you under watch and see what happens.”
“Understood, sir,” said Paul with a slight smile. “I don’t feel like I’m an unholy beast. But maybe I am, and I would hate to hurt some of the lads against my will.”
“That’s the attitude, Major,” said the Colonel. “As soon as the Sergeant Major’s back we’ll do what’s necessary and move on from there. Captain Peters. Once the Major is secure I would appreciate it if you would see to your perimeter. We have another couple of hours of darkness, and I would truly hate to be hit from without while we’re concentrating all of our attention within.”
With that said the Colonel turned and walked away. Peters stood above the sitting Major, gun still trained on his head, waiting for the shackles to appear.
* * *
“When is this night going to end?” asked one of the people who sat around the fire with the Tarantulas.
“Getting tired of our music, Fraulein,” said Dirk Winslow, flashing the woman a smile. His fingers flew over the frets of the acoustic guitar, as smooth and as fast as they had ever moved. And he didn’t feel a bit of fatigue. He looked up at the many faces that sat en mass around the fire, faces shifting from fear to hope moment to moment.
“No,” said the woman, shaking her head. “Never that. But the night is frightening.”
“Yes,” said Dirk, continuing his solo, glancing over at Peter and Wolfgang as they followed on their instruments. “I understand.” But the smile never left his face. As he watched his mates playing he realized that he felt no fear, and the people seemed to spend more time in the emotion of hope than in that of being afraid. It is magic, he thought, watching the silver sparks flying from the wooden instruments of his fellows. He could feel the magic flowing through his body, the magic of the music. The Elf said we were bards, thought Dirk, his fingers starting on another progression of the improvisation that was his song this night. That means someone who can make magic with their music. And that we have done.
Dirk wasn’t sure where the inspiration to play had come from. The sounds of demons coming through the night had something to do with it he was sure. The army was fighting them, and the people were terrified, and the knowledge that music would aid them came to him. The others thought he was crazy, until they started to play and felt the power flowing through them. And the night had quieted, the demons went away, and the people gathered to have their fears soothed by the sound.
“Wonder what an electric set would be like?” said Reinhold, his sticks flying over his drums.
“Fucking awesome is what,” said Karl Wilhelm, looking out at the crowd, his eyes wide in awe. “Something to be reckoned with.”
Anni put an arm around Dirk and pulled him tight, then nodded to a group of soldiers coming through the dark.
“It is over, Mein Frauen and Herren,” said the officer leading the German infantrymen.
“You beat them back?” yelled one of the older men in the crowd.
“I wish we could claim credit for it,” said the Leutnant, nodding at the band. “We were having our asses handed to us, until these men started to play.”
“And what happened then?” asked Dirk, lowering his instrument and setting the butt end on the ground. He could feel the fatigue start to wash over him, and knew that his eyes would not remain long open. The price of the magic.
“When you started to play it was like we all gained strength,” said the officer with a smile. “And the fear left us. And settled on the monsters. It was still a fight, but one I am sure the creatures will not want to repeat.”
The crowd started to cheer, and Dirk knew he must get to bed soon. He staggered to his feet
, Anni helping to support him. The people parted as he and the band walked out of the circle, and hands reached out to touch him on the way.
“You are a wizard,” whispered Anni into his ear. “You are a wizard. And you saved us all.”
* * *
“I am happy to see the sun rise again,” said the Underofficer.
“We weathered the night well,” said High Commander Fenris Hallanta, making a sign of thanks to the Pantheon of life. “None approached our fires, and now we have another twenty-four nights of peace.”
The Underofficer stared at his commanding officer for a moment with an expression that said he thought the older Ellala was crazy.
“OK,” said Fenris with a laugh, holding out an empty hand. “So we still have vampires, Grogatha and enemy Ellala to deal with. And the occasion Conyastaya who might think we are the friends of the native Ellala, but besides them, the nights should be peaceful.”
The Underofficer laughed as well. Then looked back at the column of soldiers that followed.
“The men grow nervous, my Lord,” said the lower ranking officer. “They do not like being this deep in enemy territory. It almost would have been better if we had gone through some action last night.”
“And what do you think will come of this nervousness?” said Fenris. “These men are professionals, and I expect them to behave as such. Fear of death should not dissuade them from doing the King’s work.”
“It’s not fear of death, my Lord,” said the Underofficer, putting his hand over his heart in the symbol of truth. “It’s fear for their souls. This is an unholy land, and the ruler is well known as a necromancer.”
“And should we turn back because the men are nervous?”
“No, my Lord,” said the younger Ellala, making the symbol of Arathonia with his hand. “We will go where you lead. But don’t expect us to have a song in our hearts while we ride this path.”
Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2 Page 10
