Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

by Doug Dandridge

  * * *

  “So, you understand your mission tomorrow, Colonel,” said Ismael Levine.

  Paul shook his head after the young American nudged him in the ribs.

  “Sorry, Brigadier Levine,” he said, bowing his head to the ancient Jew, who had to be the most physically powerful man he had ever met. He had arm wrestled the man earlier in the day and still could not believe the smaller, slighter man was so much stronger than he was. And Paul was so powerful himself he could hardly believe it. So we’re like bleeding crocs, thought the big Brit. I’ll be holy terror in a couple of centuries, not to say a millennia. If I survive. “I’m sorry Brigadier,” he said, his respect for the two older immortals total in his tone. “I’m not used to being addressed by that rank.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Jackie Smith, the attractive young black woman with the haunting ice blue eyes. “I was a Lieutenant just a week ago, and only a Major for a couple of days, before they bumped me to full Colonel. Whenever anyone calls me by rank I have to look around to see who the hell they’re talking to.”

  Paul smiled as he looked at the woman, who had attracted him at first sight, before she had kicked his ass in a martial arts spar. She was nowhere near as strong as he was, and he was nowhere near as fast. She had avoided everything he threw at her, and she had gotten almost everything through his guard. She couldn’t really hurt him, even though she was putting all of her power into every hit, but he couldn’t even get a hit on her. They had agreed to call the match a draw, and he considered her most generous for that. He was almost willing to try a hit on her, but one look from Kurt dissuaded him from that. That had been a proprietary look if he had ever seen one.

  “A lot on your mind as well, I am sure,” said the big blond haired man, a smile stretching his face. “It is a lot to take in. But you are doing fine.”

  “Thank you, Brigadier,” said Paul, giving Kurt a bow.

  “Oh cut the crap,” said the Kurt with a laugh. “We can go by first names among ourselves.”

  “I agree,” said Levine, raising an abbreviated salute to his German friend. “The centuries will get tedious if we are continually bowing and calling each other by ranks. We must form a strong bond of friendship if we are to accomplish all we need to on this world.”

  “So the mission,” said Paul, looking back and forth between the two men. “I understand what I am supposed to do. But not really why I am going.”

  “Because the Dwarves have requested that an Immortal come along to the meeting with their King,” said Levine. “We trust them, but they may still have some reservations about us. Their Priest and their Noble smith were satisfied with us, but their King is being a King. He wants to meet one of us in person, before he consummates the deal his subordinates have made. So, as Kurt and I have business to maintain in this valley, mainly making sure we are seen by the people, we decided you would make a perfect emissary.”

  “Along with a hundred Americans?” said Paul, raising an eyebrow.

  “It is good to have a strong guard contingent,” said Kurt with a smile. “When you have dealt with the prickly pride of nobility as long as I have, you learn that appearances are meaningful.”

  “And Jackie is not taking this mission because?”

  “Because though I’m much smarter than you,” she said with a laugh and a shoulder shrug. “And I’m a much better fighter. And there is something to be said about having a muscle bound barbarian representing us with the other barbarians.”

  Paul joined the others in laughing, though he had to wonder if Jackie’s claim was truth. His mind worked so much faster in this place, and he wasn’t sure just what his IQ was, or if the term was even meaningful.

  “Don’t mistake these Dwarves for barbarians,” said Levine, holding up a cautioning finger. “They are a very advanced culture for this world. Their craftsmanship is second to none, not even our own. We need them as much as they need us. Convince this King to support us and you will have given our people a mighty gift.”

  Your people you mean, thought Paul, making sure to guard his thoughts. The only people he had here were the couple of thousand Brits, soldiers and civilians, who had happened to come to this area. And maybe some of the Canadians and Yanks if I’m generous. There might be some distant cousins there.

  Something beeped its horn from outside the tent. Paul grabbed the new ax he had acquired that day, a marvelous blade that radiated a hellish heat whenever it struck. Someone had said that it was a battleax of Stephana, the Lawful Goddess of War. Paul had felt a connection to the blade as soon as he had touched it. A connection with the Goddess, who was a supporter of the righteous warriors who defended hearth and home.

  “That would be my ride,” he said to the others, giving a wave and walking toward the entrance to the tent.

  “Be careful young man,” said the ancient Immortal with a smile. “Remember, even with your abilities and strong armor, you are not invulnerable.”

  “I will old man,” said Paul, returning the smile. “Just make sure there is a valley for me to come home to.”

  They all laughed as Paul left the tent, wondering why he had said what he had at the last. He walked toward the five ton truck that was waiting outside, US soldiers in armor and a variety of modern and local weapons at hand. Three more trucks were behind it, their headlights illuminating the otherwise dark camp. Paul strode to the front of the first truck, opened the door, and climbed in.

  “Evening, Colonel,” said the American Captain who was driving the truck.

  “Couldn’t find an enlisted man to drive you, Captain?” asked Paul with a smile.

  “I wanted to talk with the Colonel on the way to the tunnels,” said the Captain. “Get to know him, and maybe fill him in on the capabilities of my troops.”

  “Maybe you should address me like I’m an actual human being sitting here in this truck beside you,” said Paul, holding out his hand so that the man, who was squat and massive himself, could give him a shake. “I’m not a member of the royal family after all, and don’t require third person.”

  The Captain smiled back and put the truck in gear, pushing on the accelerator and starting them on their way. Paul talked about the mission, and things that weren’t the mission, as they drove to the tunnels and the entrance to the underworld.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The General Prince Tristialla Mashara sipped from a cup of tea as he listened to the camp stirring. The day before had been a very good day. His Army had overrun several of the human units off the march before they had made camp, and hundreds of humans, soldiers and civilians, were now their prisoners. And the humans had more problems with their weapons than had been the norm.

  All around him the camp stirred, as the warriors got the morning meal in their stomachs and saw to preparing themselves and mounts for the day’s march. A march that should see them at the entrance of the valley the humans were trying to occupy. Until we rout them out of there, he thought, smiling.

  He had a hundred and fifty thousand troops. Thirty thousand Ellala cavalry, including five thousand horse archers. Ten thousand Conyastaya archers, though he had them under the watch of some of his other troops. And one hundred ten thousand infantry, seventy thousand of them fierce Grogatha, along with thirty thousand Ellala and ten thousand Gimikran foot soldiers. He also had over two hundred of the massive Trolls and five hundred mages and priests. He wished for some aerial cover besides his three hundred battle hawks, but with luck the dragon corps would be overhead today or tomorrow.

  I would still liked to have had the other armies, he thought, watching as some of his knights walked in armor to their mounts. That would have given me another hundred thousand fighters. But this should be enough to clean up their outliers. Then we can block that damned valley, and see if they can bring enough in to resist us when their damned machines no longer work.

  If only my uncle had made it. He thought again of the mushroom cloud that had appeared in the sky the last day. He had mourned f
or his uncle, who he had always liked. At the same time he had been glad that it had not been his army that had been ashed by that hellish device. He drove that thought from his mind. He didn’t have time for it, not until he did what he needed to do.

  The Prince took another sip of the hot sweet tea and waited for the army to get ready to move out. He didn’t have a thought for defeat, only the victory he was sure would be his this day.

  * * *

  Major General Walter Delgado prayed yet again as his division made ready to go into battle. The arrangements had changed once again as the Earth people had made it into the valley. He had a brigade of American soldiers, a brigade of Germans, and the Canadian battalion. There were also the two German battalions that had been skirmishing with the enemy through the previous day. Those battalions were mauled but not broken, in the proud tradition of the Wehrmacht. And at the last second he had been given the armored cav battalion, which was out on the flank where the enemy hopefully hadn’t discovered them.

  I wish I had those choppers, he thought for the umpteenth time. He had been assigned the German attack copters, but the General had pulled them back without explanation. So he had to hope his three battalions of 155s and the two companies of MLRS, along with his mortars, would be enough to put paid to this army.

  “The Gods will favor you this day,” said the Conyastaya priestess Leinora Glassandora in almost perfect German.

  “It does seem that all of our equipment is working well,” said the General with a smile at the beautiful Elf. “I thought that had something to do with the concentrated belief of sixteen thousand soldiers.”

  “That has something to do with it, true,” said the Elf. “But the deities are also with you.”

  “And ten thousand of your people,” said the General with a smile, thinking of those Wood Elf huntsmen who screened his force. They were invisible in the forest, and even the Ellala couldn’t match them in the woods.

  “Remember what we told you about the soldiers who don’t want to be there,” said the priestess, her face showing her concern.

  “Ten thousand of your people, and ten thousand of the Forest Dwarves,” said the General, frowning. “I remember. And they have been told to break and run from the kill zone when we start firing?”

  “They have been told,” said the priestess, looking away, then back at the General. “But they may become confused in the fire and terror that will come with your weapons.”

  “Then they have to take their chances,” said Delgado, shrugging his shoulders. “I want them to get away, too. But I can’t risk my battle plan. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” said the Elf, her expression sad. “I wish it were different, but it is war. And you must win this battle.”

  “I sure hope so,” said the General, listening to engines awakening around him. “I sure hope so.”

  * * *

  Major Antoine McGurk looked through his night vision scope at the pickets that were standing a couple of kilometers away across the open grassland. His own force, twenty-eight Abrams and thirty Bradleys, lay in cover under the wood line, engines cold. It had been a tense night, woken from sleep and sent here to join a company that was already in place. The Captain had told him that they had watched the Elves put up camp in the woods across the prairie. And the Elves had only sent out a couple of groups of scouts, all Conyastaya. McGurk knew he had been seen by at least one team of the Wood Elves, but nothing came of it. And their own platoon of Conyastaya had watched over them through the night.

  “We ready men?” he said over his throat mic to his waiting crew.

  “As ready as we’ll ever be,” answered the gunner.

  And that’s the God’s truth, thought the Major. Their vehicles had come out filled with fuel and ammo. That was unlikely to ever happen again. This was the last offensive bolt of the modern military. From here on they would fight with muscle power, and McGurk still wasn’t sure if he would rather march in formation or ride a horse. Not that I know how to ride a horse, he thought with a smile. And I hear they’re hard on the ass. Hopefully not as hard as we’re about to be on these assholes.

  * * *

  “Move em out, Sarge Major,” said Delgado to his senior NCO. The man nodded and started talking into the radio. Delgado sent the message over the psionic net at the same time. He loved the new power. He had turned out to be one of the rarer of the telepaths, one who could far cast. Right now he was sending the orders out over a fifty square kilometer area, and tight beaming back to the valley to let them know he was about to attack.

  “All chicks have left the nest,” said the Sergeant Major, looking up at his Commander.

  “Out fucking standing, Sarge Maj,” said the General, smiling at the man. “Let’s get this battle on the road.” The last fucking armored push on this planet. I just hope it works as drawn up.

  * * *

  “What in the name of the Gods is that?” yelled out one of the officers. The cried echoed across the camp. It took Trisialla a moment to take his mind off the map he had been looking at on the camp table. But as soon as he concentrated his hearing it was clear. The noise of the newcomer’s machines. Over a hundred of them running in the distance. And more starting up every second.

  The Ellala General ran toward the edge of the camp, a hundred meters away where the trees thinned and the ten or so kilometers of open ground began. He stopped at the edge of the trees, his sharp eyes questing in the low light. Light enough for his elfin vision. The other end of the field sprang into his visual field. And there were scores of the enemy’s machines there, moving onto the field, lining up and stopping.

  “Get the troops moving,” he shouted out. “Now, you sluggards.” He looked back at the growing line of vehicles, coming within the range of his mages. “Get the mages up here,” he yelled, pointing at another cavalry officer. “Now. Every second counts.” The General looked back toward the enemy, a smile stretching his face. “We have them now,” he said, slamming a fist into his open hand. Father will be so proud. And by this evening those machines will all be burning wrecks. And the valley will be open before us.

  * * *

  There were over a hundred main battle tanks in the first line, mostly Abrams, though there were a few Leopards. Mingled among them were over a hundred and twenty tracs, mostly APCs of the Bradley variety. They were the fist that the enemy saw. The fist they didn’t see was still hidden in the woods behind them, and included a larger concentration of armored vehicles, over a hundred tanks and a hundred and fifty odd tracs. Franz Sturgil commanded one of the companies of German tanks, in the middle of the line where fifty of the tanks were concentrated. He leaned over the hatch and looked at the enemy with his light amplifying glasses.

  The enemy was starting to form up on the edge of the woods. There were an awful lot of them, more than he really wanted to see. But he knew the plan, and on paper it was a good one. The American and German Armies both believed it best practice to inform the lower officers and NCOs of the overall plan, so they could use their initiative to seize the moment if an opportunity arose. He knew that they couldn’t fire at the enemy while they were spread out in camp, with overhead cover provided by the trees. So the plan called for luring them to battle in the open, where the mechanized force could crush them once and for all.

  Now cavalry was moving out into the open, men in shining armor on big, beautiful horses. Frantz hated the idea of killing the beasts. But this was total war, and they had to play to win, even if it meant killing some innocent beasts.

  Frantz cursed as he saw scores of the big creatures they knew as Trolls moving out and lining up in the center of the enemy line. He knew they were tough bastards that could flip an APC, and heal hurts that would kill any other known creature. He was tempted to ask his loader to radio in that information, but stopped himself from making a fool out of his tank and crew. The creatures were sure to have been seen, and the information had already been passed up the line. He looked at his repeater screen, t
he system that showed the location of friendly and unfriendly units on the battlefield, and saw that the info had already been added to the order of battle.

  Something shimmered in his field of view, and he strained to see what it was that was moving over there. He couldn’t get it to clear, so he flipped a lever and turned it to infrared. “Mein Godt,” he said, seeing what looked like a hundred heat images in the shape of men, all holding glowing staffs.

  “Mages,” he said under his breath, a chill running up his spine. Those devils could kill tanks, and a hundred of them could kill a hundred tanks in moments.

  “Commander Company 1, 3rd Battalion, German Division reporting,” he said over his throat mic after switching to the division band.

  “Go ahead one three actual,” came the voice of an American com tech on the other end.

  “We have mages under some kind of cloak moving across the field,” said the Hauptman. He pointed a laser range finder at the mages and flicked it on. “Feeding the data to you now.”

  “Roger, one three actual,” said the tech. “Information coming in.”

  There was silence for a moment and Sturgil let the man do his job. “The General sends his compliments on your sharp eyes,” said the tech. Another man came on the line.

  “They look like they would have gotten into position without notice, one three actual. Now we have too many eyes on them for them to disappear. Including Conyastaya eyes. Good job. Baker One Actual out.”

  Baker One Actual, thought the German officer with a smile on his face, looking at his repeater screen and seeing the mages marked. The Division Commander complimented me himself. Sturgil didn’t know why, but he was proud to be fighting under such a man. He told the rest of his crew about the conversation and could see them puffing their chests in pride that their commander had gotten such a compliment.

  Then it was back to business as he watched more cavalry, followed by thousands of the ugly infantry, move into position.