Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

by Doug Dandridge

  “Then that is exactly what they must do,” said Fenris with a smile. “They must lighten their hearts while we are on this path.”

  Fenris started singing the words of a song that was ancient when he was young. A song of the Goddess and her love for the world. His clear tenor voice carried through the woods, and he looked back to see the men staring at him.

  “Sing, man,” he said to the Underofficer. “Let your voice carry, that they may lighten their hearts in a dark land.”

  The Underofficer joined in the song, and soon the entire column was alive with the beautiful voices of the Ellala. Fenris smiled at his subordinate, who looked back at him in amazement.

  “Aren’t you worried that someone will hear, my Lord?” said the Underofficer.

  “Let them hear,” said Fenris with a smile. “We are men of the Kingdom of Lianardas. We are soldiers of King Ellidron Kjanara. And where our steeds ride it is our land.”

  And the column continued on through the path between the trees, singing through the day. Conyastaya heard them and knew them for what they were. Friends, and fellow worshipers of the Gods of Life. From now on they would be warded by stealthy scouts, and food would be left along their path.

  * * *

  “Is there news from High Commander Hallanta?” asked King Ellidron Kjanara, walking into the temple where his daughter presided.

  The Princess Lissindra Kjanara, High Priestess of Arathonia, looked up from the book she was reading with a smile. “It is good to see you father. We have much to talk about. The Goddess sent me a dream last night.”

  “What about my patrol?” said the King, bringing the conversation back to the question at hand.

  “They do well, my Lord,” said the Princess with a smile. She got up from the table and led the way to a scrying ball that sat in a stand. There were several of the balls in the room, as befitted a High Priestess. She waved her hand over the ball and images formed, as well as voices.

  “What are they doing?” asked the King, staring into the ball. “By the Gods, they’re singing. They are in the middle of enemy territory and they are singing. Has Fenris lost his mind?”

  “He lost his mind long ago,” said the priestess with a smile. “That was why he fell in love with me. And I’m still angry that you sent him into that land of death worshippers.”

  “He will make a good son-in-law,” said the King, giving the tilt head sign of agreement. “And he is a man I trust with this important a mission. But now I wonder if I didn’t send a madman to certain death.”

  “There is genius in his madness, my king,” said the priestess, waving her hand over the ball. A trio of Elves, Conyastaya, appeared in the ball, moving through the forest. “He has friends warding him now.”

  “How did you contact them?”

  “I didn’t,” said the Princess, waving her hand again and turning off the feed. “They contacted me. Or at least one of their priestesses did. A woman of power, who has been watching our men since they crossed the border.”

  “But, how could they find our patrol?” said the King, looking at his daughter.

  “They are Conyastaya,” said the Princess, in a tone that said that was enough of an explanation.

  “Of course,” said the King. He looked at the blank ball for a moment longer, then back at his daughter. “Your marriage celebration will take place when they return. And hopefully an alliance as well.”

  Lissindra’s eyes teared up as she looked at her father. She was on her feet in an instant and had him wrapped in a tight hug. The marriage had been planned for over a year, but the King still had to give his final blessing in the matter. And now he had.

  “I love you, father,” she said, looking in his eyes. “And Fenris will make a good King. You will see.”

  “I know, daughter,” said the King, a short flash of pain in his eyes.

  Lissindra wrapped him in another hug. I’m all he has, she thought, remembering the faces of her three brothers, all ahead of her in the line of succession. And all killed in one of the many wars their nation had faced over the last five hundred years.

  “We have good news from the North as well,” said the King, putting his arms on her shoulders and holding her away.

  “The other Earthers?”

  “Yes,” said the King with a smile. “We have contacted the Poles, and some others who came with them. They have more of these wondrous machines, and have agreed to strike at the plains nomads and carve out the territory we have agreed they will have.”

  “That was quick,” said the priestess with a look of confusion. “How did they throw in with us so quickly.”

  “Because they had run ins with the nomads,” said the King. “They were started by the nomads, and finished by the Poles.”

  “And are they as much a warrior people as these Germans Fenris rides to meet?”

  “According to the Poles there are no other people with warriors as good as these Germans. For centuries they were enemies, but currently are allies. The Poles became better warriors both from their fighting against the Germans, and then becoming their allies.”

  “So these Germans are the best warriors of their world?” asked the Princess with a smile.

  “Yes,” said the King. “It is too bad they came through where they did.”

  “No,” said Lissindra tilting her head in the negative. “I think they landed in the perfect place. And I think that the Emperor Ellandra Mashara and the Empire of Ellala’lysana have gotten what they deserve in these Germans.”

  Chapter Nine

  Morning finally came, bringing relief from the terror of the night, the bright sun rising over the hills and mountains sheltering the refugees from Earth. At a half dozen places attacks came in with the rising sun, Grogatha footmen and Ellala knights hoping to take advantage of the disruption caused by the supernatural battles that night. In all instances they failed, repulsed with heavy casualties. Thousands of infantry and almost a thousand heavily armored cavalry were mowed down by automatic weapons fire and artillery.

  The refugees counted their dead and wounded and prepared to move on the next leg of their journeys. Vehicles were quickly packed after some food was wolfed down. Within a half an hour after the dawn of the sixth day thousands of vehicles and tens of thousands of people on foot were moving, towards the promised sanctuary in the mountains.

  * * *

  “Well, you’re looking chipper today, Major,” said Lt. Colonel Simon Hardessy, looking into the back of the truck where the executive officer sat, his arms and legs shackled and a pair of soldiers standing guard on him. “How are you feeling this fine morning?”

  “Not like a fiend of the night, sir,” said Mason-Smyth, frowning at his superior officer, then scowling at Captain Johnny Peters, who was standing to the rear of the Colonel.

  “Well, the morning sun didn’t seem to do you any harm, lad,” said the Colonel, keeping his voice upbeat. “You didn’t burst into flame or shrivel away on us. So I would guess you aren’t any kind of undead.”

  “Just what I’ve been trying to tell you, sir,” said the exasperated Major, raising his hands palm out, the chains clinking. “I’m still me, no matter what else might have happened. I have no fiend lurking in the back of my mind, waiting for a chance to rend and kill. I’m still a soldier in the King’s Army.”

  “And that’s just what I would expect for a lurking fiend to say,” said Captain Peters, glaring back at the Major. “How do we know what you’re thinking? Even with this damned telepathy so many are exhibiting. How would we know what you’re actually thinking, and what you are placing out there for us to read? I still think we need to put you down, and not take any chances.”

  “And we’ll have none of that, Captain,” said the Colonel, wagging a finger. “Innocent until proven guilty. But I think the Major needs to stay under restraint for the moment. I’m sorry Paul. But I think it’s for the best of the unit and all of us if we keep you under control for right now.”

  “I wish I c
ould convince you that I’m not a risk,” said Paul Mason-Smyth, “so you would let me out of these damned things. But I’m not sure I could convince myself of that fact.”

  Paul thought back to the night before. He could feel the teeth of the beast on his throat, feel the sharp pain as they ripped out his windpipe and savaged his veins and arteries. He could feel the blood running down his shirt, and the enfolding blackness that stole away his awareness. And the shock of awakening, when he knew going into the darkness that he would not be coming out.

  What the hell am I? he thought once again. And what risk am I to my mates? If he was sure that he was that risk he would ask the Captain to shoot him with the silver bullet. But he had no more desire to die than the next man, and did not want to die for nothing. Instead he lowered his head as the truck started up and lurched away down the ancient trade road.

  * * *

  “All stations have reported in, sir,” said Sergeant Major Cliff Jackson, coming to attention in front of the Commanding General’s desk/table.

  Major General Zachary Taylor looked up from the written report he was reading and waved the NCO to a chair. He was happy about the progress that his men had made in securing the valley. There had been a couple of more battles with undead in the city, citadel and the town, but the men had been prepared and had destroyed the monsters with only a few injuries to themselves. They had accomplished this by being heavily armed, with enchanted weapons when available, armored, and in overwhelming force. When a couple of dozen skeletons arose they were confronted by a score or more of fighters. He had ordered the three pyramids, square step, short octagonal and tall octagonal, left alone for now. The things reeked of evil and probably had a maze of passages within. And he had more important things for his manpower to accomplish at this time.

  Among them were the numbers of caverns that opened out onto the valley. On this world caverns meant nasty things living in caverns. And he needed to find out if those cavern complexes led to openings outside of the valley, lest some army come walking out of them and onto the valley floor before the humans knew they were under attack.

  “So everyone survived, more or less?” asked the General, putting the report aside and pulling out a cigar. The Sergeant Major pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, offering the light first to the General.

  “We had casualties,” said the NCO. “Probably a lot less than our enemy had intended, thanks to the warning of our friends. The enemy took a lot of casualties among their special operatives as well. All of our units are still intact and ready to execute their missions.”

  “That is a load off my mind,” said the NATO supreme commander on the planet. “When I heard vampires and werewolves I thought we were truly fucked.”

  “We might have been, sir,” said the senior NCO, blowing out smoke. “They wasted their operatives in penny packets though. Dribbles here and there. I think they wanted to terrorize all of our people, or as many as they could reach. Make us fear the night. Our night vision gear helped though. With the light of the moon it was brighter than daylight to those devices. And that big German, the Hebrew gentleman and the Major kicked some serious ass last night. But if they had hit a couple of our units with a mass of creatures I’m pretty sure they could have overwhelmed those units.”

  “But they didn’t,” said the General with a smile, blowing out the smoke from his cigar. “I wonder sometimes if our erstwhile opponents know a damned thing about military operations. I know, I know,” he continued as the NCO attempted to respond. “They’ve kicked ass and taken names here. They have conquered a large bit of real estate and held it for hundreds of years. But they don’t seem to have much in the way of tactics beyond throwing things at people and hoping they cut them down.”

  “Our communications are really bad today, though,” said the Sergeant Major, changing the subject back to what was currently threatening them on this world. “We’ve had trouble getting intelligible messages from some of the further flung units. Worse than yesterday, even though they are closer. And our computers are crashing with alarming frequency.”

  “So there it is,” said the General, his frown deepening. “We were told our technology would start to fade away, and now we’re seeing it. I’m not sure what we can do but keep the pressure on the bastards while we still have it.”

  “I don’t see anything else to do either, sir,” said the Sergeant Major, nodding. “We don’t have much of a choice, and as you said before, it’s use it or lose it. So we need to use it while we can. But there is some good news as well. At least good news for us, if not for the poor sorry bastard of a planet we left behind.”

  “We have reinforcements?” asked the General, the corners of his lips turning up.

  “We picked up the signals of a couple of companies at the fringe of these mountains,” said the senior NCO, placing a finger on the rough map of the region hanging on the wall. “There was a mixed company of armor and mech infantry, seven tanks and twelve APCs. And a company of MLRS, six tracs and the reload trucks. But the real jewel was three companies of a transportation brigade, all of their trucks loaded with the things we need. Ammunition, fuel and lots of rations. As well as six trucks full of sandbag pallets, which brings us another six hundred thousand sandbags to help fortify this valley.”

  “How in the hell did they get here?” asked the General, his mind working on how to use these new assets. “Did they wander in from the far reaches of this Ellala Empire?”

  “No sir,” said the Sergeant Major, shaking his head. “The duty officer said they came on the net last night. All the units said they were had been moving up through the quagmire of Germany when nukes detonated nearby and they ended up here. Wherever here is, said one of the commanders. And they said that it was bad back on Earth, General. Central Europe is in really bad shape, what with hundreds of tactical nukes being thrown around. And England, Russia and the United States have been hammered by strategic weapons. Kind of makes me glad I ended up here, wherever here is. But I do worry about my kin back in the States.”

  “Me too Cliff,” said the General, looking down at his desktop. “Me too.”

  The General looked up and smacked his hand on the table top.

  “Nothing we can gain by crying about it now,” said Taylor, a smile creeping onto his face. “Keep em busy, Cliff. And that means us as well. We need to stay busy so we don’t go mad. What’s that map case have in it? I know you didn’t bring it along for your health.”

  “Some sketches I’ve made of ideas for fortifying this valley,” Said the Sergeant Major, lifting the case and pulling a stack of papers from it. “If the General has time?”

  “Hell yes, Sergeant Major,” said Zachary Taylor, pushing the papers on his desk aside. “Let’s see what you’ve brought me to help us confound our enemies.”

  * * *

  “I see you made it, my friend,” said Ishmael Levine, standing up from his seat by the fire when the giant German walked into the camp.

  Kurt had his blade in hand and was wiping the length of the Zweihander with a towel, polishing the already polished steel. His eyes were red from being up the night, and the Jewish Immortal gestured toward a camp chair near the fire. A pot of coffee steamed on the fire, and the smell of cooking food, mostly from ration cans, was tantalizing in the air.

  “It was a long night,” said the German, while a young woman in the campsite poured him a tin cup of coffee. He accepted it with thanks and took a seat in the chair, which groaned alarmingly under the weight of him and his armor.

  “Did you get many with that great sword of yours?” said Levine with a laugh. His own blade was sheathed on his back, his shield leaning against the side of his chair.

  “Some few,” said the German, putting his cup down, sticking the tip of his sword in the ground and reaching up to pull off his helmet. “They seemed to fear this blade, and for several hours I couldn’t tempt any to come at me. So I sheathed it for a while and walked around until one would attack me. Then I w
ould beat him into submission with my hands, pull out the blade, and dispatch him. It was almost too easy.”

  “So they weren’t like the vampires of legend?”

  “Man, I saw one of them throw a soldier thirty meters through the air,” said Kurt, picking up his cup and blowing on the steam. “I broke that same beast’s back with my bare hands. Just what the hell are we? I have never felt so strong in my life, though I’ve always been stronger than other men, even those my size.”

  “As I told you before, my friend,” said Levine, after sipping from his own cup. “I’m not really sure what we are. I just know that we are. And that we would be needed to aid our fellow if lesser man.”

  “I’m not really comfortable with being a superman,” said the German. “That’s what Herr Hitler said all of us were. And I don’t think I like looking down on the rest of my species.”

  “They are not untermenchen,” said Levine, nodding his head. “I have never considered them such. We are all children of God, whichever way we need to see that deity. But we are better in many ways. Just as we have weaknesses.”

  “Did you ever meet any of our kind before?” asked Kurt, staring into the coals of the small fire. “I know you said that some have died, in fire. But before me, have you ever spent time with any of our kind?”

  “There was one,” said Levine, looking far away. “A man of Greece who had lived for over two hundred years before I was born. He fought for Alexander, and took his first death wound in India. He didn’t die then. He did die in the arena, sacrificed to the beasts with the rest of the new cult he had joined. The one he tried to convert me to. He was ripped apart by the lions and eaten.”

  “Another way for us to die?” asked the German. “So fire is not the only way.”

  “We can die from fire,” said Levine, “or digested in the stomachs of predators. I don’t know what happens if we lose our heads. Does the body grow a new head, or head a new body, though I can’t see how either would work. But wounds that would kill most men we recover from. I lost an arm one time while at sea, on a Mediterranean merchant. I grew the arm back in a couple of weeks, and ate like a ravenous pig to fuel my body. Poisons don’t seem to affect us, nor disease. Drowning or asphyxiation is temporary at worst, as we recover when given exposure to air. I figure that we would not wake up if we lost consciousness at the bottom of a body of water, and would probably expire. I took an injury to my head once, and lost a good century’s worth of memories. So we can be hurt, though most hurts are temporary.”