Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

by Doug Dandridge

  “My Lord,” said the Warpriest Garios na Gonron. “These are representatives of the humans you have heard about. Including,” said the Priest, laying a hand on Paul’s forearm, “one of the eternal humans prophesized in the ancient tomes.”

  A smile broke across the scarred face of the King, who said something in his own language. He frowned a moment as if searching for words, then started speaking in heavily accented German. “Welcome my friends. I have heard so much about you. But as my people say, hearing can lead to misunderstanding. While seeing is truly believing.”

  “We have a similar saying on my world, your majesty,” said Paul, moving forward as the warpriest nudged him.

  “Of course,” said the King with a laugh. “All thinking creatures have such a saying. You seem to be thinking creatures, so you should have such a saying. Now, my representatives have talked with you about the help we can offer to your people. And I would like to talk with you about how you might help mine.”

  “Help your people your majesty,” said Paul, raising an eyebrow. “What aid could we be to such a mighty warrior people as you?”

  “We are mighty warriors,” said the King with a smile. “We have to be, because our enemies are also mighty. And hopefully our friends will be as well. Are you a mighty people?”

  “I like to think so,” said Paul. “I…”

  [Paul,] came the strong thought into his mind. [How goes things with you.]

  [I am meeting with the King of the Mountain Dwarves.] said Paul, feeling a bit of exasperation over the interruption.

  [Get what help you can.] sent Levine. [We are about to be attacked by dragons. Hopefully there will be something here when you get back. Levine out.]

  “What is happening, friend Paul?” asked Garios, concern on his face.

  “One of my friends sent a mind cast from the valley,” said Paul, feeling his own tension grow.

  “They can far cast,” said the King. “How many?”

  “We don’t know your majesty,” said the Priest. “Probably more than any other people. But these are the immortals, so they will all be so gifted. But what is happening in your valley, friend Paul?”

  “They are being attacked by dragons,” said Paul with a nod. “There may not be much left to aid you.”

  “We will hope that it is not come to that,” said the King, motioning to his men.

  “What is going on?” asked Marcus Jordan as the Dwarves began to gather around them.

  “We will go with you to your valley,” said the King, gesturing to his warriors. Some started down the tunnel that the humans had just come up. “You are friends. And we must do what we can for friends, or we are not.”

  I like these guys, thought Paul as he fell in beside the King and the Warpriest. Good friends indeed. And I hope there’s something to come back to.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  General Jossianli Melisardra watched the peaks of the range just ahead grow in size as his dragon approached. In minutes the first dragons of his aerial army would fly over and around those peaks, becoming visible to the enemy within the valley beyond. Already the force had split into three sections, two of a hundred dragons on each flank, with his central force of more than two hundred in the middle.

  A booming sound came from the ground. A juvenile had immolated one of the vehicles of the strangers. This one did not seem to be a war wagon, but more of a transport. It still burned most satisfactorily, and hopefully had given no warning of his coming armada. Several groups of juveniles had been given orders to destroy anything on the ground on the way to the valley, and they had done a most competent job.

  There was another booming sound, different than the last. The General looked down in time to see a brightly lit object coming up from the ground, tracking toward one of the low flying juveniles. The dragon maneuvered frantically at the command of its rider, banking and turning while it dove to gain speed. The bright object turned, to become a slender arrow with fire coming from the rear. It too maneuvered, faster than the five ton dragon, and closed up quickly. The dragon made a last turn, tighter than the missile could duplicate.

  The missile started to lose closure, then exploded into a ball of fire. Fragments came from the ball, blasted out into the path of the juvenile. The dragon bucked in the air as some of the particles hit it, but regained level flight quickly. None of the particles had been enough to damage it significantly through its tough hide. The limp form of the rider flopping in the saddle indicated that the Ellala had not fared as well. The red blood spotting his shirt and dripping from underneath his helmet was another indication.

  The General cursed under his breath as he looked downward, trying to spot where the weapon had come from. Other members of the juvenile group were flying above the trees, torching the woods with their breaths. Something exploded under the trees, and humanoid figures wreathed in flames came staggering out of the tree line to fall to the ground in a clearing. The Dragon Lord smirked in satisfaction. Someone had paid for the death of the rider. Whether it was the human who had wielded the terrible weapon was not clear, but no other flaming darts rose from the ground. The dragon with the dead rider continued to keep up with the armada. It would follow the group with or without control, and would attack anything that struck its mind to go after.

  Almost there, thought the General, looking ahead to see the leaders of the group go over the ridgeline and dive into the valley.

  * * *

  Second Lieutenant Frank Burkes swore under his breath yet again as he watched the cloud of dragons flowing over the ridgeline. Jessica knew exactly how he felt, watching the swarm on the TV viewer fed from the nose camera of the Comanche. There was a hell of a lot of tonnage of flying monster out there.

  The Comanche hovered in a small draw on the mountain side, along with three other of the stealth attack helicopters. Four other quartets of attack helicopters, Comanche’s and German Eurocopters, also waited to attack the tail of the enemy force. It was thought to be too dangerous to have them roaming over the battlefield that the valley was going to become. Especially with every antiaircraft weapon the humans possessed active and ready to shoot flying objects out of the air.

  “They’re almost two thirds over the draw,” came the voice over the com unit. “Get ready to fire the first volley.”

  Burkes acknowledged the command while Stuart prepared to move the helicopter. Then we’ll see who rules the skies of this world, she thought, while wondering how her Elf friend and his beautiful gold dragon would fare in this fight. I can just hope he makes it, she thought, then threw in a wish for the dragon. They would be over that valley, risking enemy dragons and friendly fire.

  * * *

  “Here they come,” shouted the technician, looking down on her radar screen. The take of several of the air defense radar vans was being piped into the command bunker, where a stab at coordination was taking place.

  “General,” yelled out an aide, racing out to the sandbag enclosure at the front of the bunker. “Raider is picking them up, coming over the western mountains.”

  Taylor swung his field glasses to search the mountains, starting at a point to the south and moving slowly north.

  “There,” yelled another officer, pointing to slightly north of west.

  Taylor swung his glasses to that direction and allowed the autofocus to work, bringing in a sharp image of the terrain. He felt his breath catch as he saw the dark dots moving down the mountain side, looking like a thousand large insects. He knew his estimate was probably high, likely outrageously high. But there were a lot of them, and they were coming into his sanctuary valley. Uninvited and with bad intent.

  “Order all units to fire at will as they come into range,” he ordered his radio operator.

  “We’re having some problems with the radio,” said the technician, playing with the set. “There’s a lot of static.”

  “Well keep trying,” ordered the General with a growl.

  “They’ll know what to do,” said Colone
l Taylor, standing by the side of his commander. “They know who the enemy is, and they are well trained. So they’ll know what to do.”

  But will it be enough, thought Taylor, bringing his glasses back up and focusing on one of the leading dragons as she glided down the side of the mountain. It was one thing to think about fighting fire breathing flying dinosaurs. It was another to face the reality of it. He could only hope that the reality he had brought with him was up to the task.

  * * *

  General Jossianli Melisardra looked over the valley as Death Bringer crested the last ridge. He had not known what to expect, since the last recon mission had been flown over the valley almost a week before. It had been too expensive in dragons to continue to over fly the humans, and things could change. Over a thousand square kilometers of valley floor laid out beneath him. The shimmering river in the center, the high plateau above the river with the ruins of the last people to attempt to live here. The patches of forest and the open lands that again showed signs of agriculture as they were cleared and tilled. And the areas of canvas tents and parked vehicles that marked concentrations of the humans who were claiming the valley as their own.

  The Ellala linked with his beast and switched to its view of the valley. The ancient dragon’s eyes were sharper than a hawk’s, but with the same limited color vision. Crisp, clear images sprung forth as the dragon swung its head back and forth in flight, gathering an overall image of the valley. Jossianli could make out the humans at encampments miles away, running this way and that, to vehicles and into strange fortifications.

  I don’t see any of their flying machines, thought the General as he watched his leading groups moving into the valley, attacking ground targets. That was a major worry for him. He had heard the tales of their speed and maneuverability, as well as the terrible weapons they carried. Where are they? he thought. He would like to take them off the gaming board from the start, but it looked as if the enemy had other plans for them. Plans he would have to react to, instead of making them react to his.

  Pulling his attention back to the here and now, the General noted that several groups of juveniles were diving toward the valley floor, firing balls of breath at targets only they could see. Streams of red objects were moving into the sky, sweeping back and forth and questing for dragons, while a pair of bright dots trailing columns of smoke were rising into the air.

  * * *

  Beate had run to the hospital on the first siren call. That was her duty station, and the Priest had met her there. She didn’t know what was going on, not really. She had heard all the rumors of course, and the most frightening one was dragons. Big flying beasts that could rend and tear men and beasts apart, or immolate them with hellish fire. She looked at the canvas walls that were around her, the cloth ceiling overhead, and wished that the hospital had been moved into some kind of bunker or a stone building. But stone buildings were up on the plateau, and most of the people were down here on the flats. It was thought more healthful for the patients to be in the tents, where sides could be raised to allow fresh air to get to them.

  Won’t do them much good if they’re set on fire, she thought, smiling at a soldier who had been burned by something that wasn’t a dragon. The man smiled back, and Beate had to admit his skin looked better. Not fully healed, but the Conyastaya glop they had spread on his skin had done a better job than the best burn ward and grafts on Earth.

  “What’s going on ma’am?” asked another soldier, this one with a patch over one eye and a leg in a cast.

  “Something,” said Beate in English to the American lad. “They haven’t told us yet, but whatever it is, I’m sure the military will handle it. After all, almost two thirds of you and the German soldiers are here by now.” She patted his hand and moved on, saying a short prayer to Yanon for his speedy recovery, and his protection on this sure to be violent day.

  “You have a very good manner with the ill and injured,” said the Conyastaya Priest with a smile. “And you can lie with the best of them.”

  “I don’t see the use of making them worry about what they can do nothing about,” she said to the Priest, feeling just a bit of guilt at the fabrication. That was not a holy trait in any religion she had ever heard of.

  “Oh,” said the Priest with a gesture of his hand. “You are correct. The God does not begrudge us the, what do you call it, psychological aspects of the healing process. It is a lie told to help, not to hurt, and so is easily forgiven.”

  “Well, thank the God for that,” said Beate, a feeling of relief coming over her.

  “You can thank him yourself,” said the Priest with a gesture. “In the way I have taught you. And I noticed you praying after you talked with the young man. That is a good habit to get into.”

  “Will you do any healing here today, my Lord?” asked Beate, looking into the eyes of the Priest she had grown to respect so much.

  “Not now,” said the Conyastaya with an opening of his palms. “The people here are stable enough that they can get through the day without an effusion of the power of the Gods. And I believe there will be many who will have greater need before this day is over.”

  “I hope not,” said Beate, remembering her dreams from last night. Dreams of fire and blood. “But I feel that you are correct. I just wish we could do something for the people in this hospital. They are so helpless.”

  “There is something we can do for them,” said the Priest with a smile. “I will teach you the prayer for sanctuary this morning. And then we will say it together, that Yanon may use his influence to guard these people.”

  This I gotta see, thought Beate as she followed the Priest to a canvas room that had been made into a chapel in this large tent.

  * * *

  As per NATO doctrine, the antiaircraft units were grouped by batteries in mutual support of each other. Each battery, the artillery equivalent of a company, contained a master command trac, a couple of radar tracs, and a number of missile tracs and triple A tracs, as well as vehicles with reloads of missiles and cannon ammunition.

  At Battery 1, Battalion 4, 4th Panzergrenadier Division, stationed around the camps nearest to the western ridges of the valley, a hundred targets were flooding the systems of the two radar tracs. These vehicles fed their information into the command trac that was just outside the central camp. From there targets were prioritized and selected, and the information went to the actual weapons that were scattered around that section of the valley floor. The weapons themselves locked their short ranged firing radars onto the selected dragons and followed them while a targeting solution was computed. When the dragon entered the optimal configuration of the weapon that weapon fired.

  Several of the Roland III launchers fired one of the four missiles they carried at targets as soon as they entered range. The weapons tracked onto the dragons, guided by the radar of their launch vehicles and their onboard systems. One dragon was a hard kill, the missile impacting its chest before it or its rider knew it was a target. The other saw what happened to the first monster and weaved through the air, attempting to avoid the missile. The rider and its beast did not know that they had been singled out from among all the other dragons, and the missile was matching their moves as it came ever closer to them. A last second bank avoided the missile, which went automatically onto proximity kill mode, turning from missile to the shrapnel called flak within two meters of the monster. Pieces of jagged metal sheared through the scales of the creature, in the right wing, chest, and the joining of body with limb. The delicate mechanism of the wing was destroyed even as wing bone was shattered and thin membrane shredded. The dragon frantically flapped its remaining wing, trying to stay in the air, but fell like a stone to bounce broken from the rocky ground.

  The four Gepard tracs worked in teams. Firing their twin 35mm autocannon, two of the tracs targeted a single dragon, sweeping their twin lines of tracers. The dragons might avoid one of the tracs, but not both, and a pair of beasts were blotted from the sky by the small explosive roun
ds hitting their bodies or detonating in close proximity. Soon another pair was knocked out of the sky, while a missile took out a seventh victim.

  Now there were fifty dragons swarming over the box the battery was defending. And the sharp eyed beasts and their riders were picking out the vehicles that had been knocking their fellows out of the sky. The juveniles dropped low, flying at tree top level, while the elder beasts breathed fireballs at their longest range at the vehicles. A missile trac and two Gepards were killed by juveniles, while an elder hit another missile trac. Three more dragons were knocked from the air, then two more missile tracs and a Gepard were destroyed. Riders threw glowing globes that converted into tracking fireballs on the way to targets, while other riders loosed lightning bolts or weapons of cold with wands. Within minutes the antiaircraft unit had died, all but the command trac and the radar tracs reduced to burning pyres. The dragons then worked over the camps, destroying vehicles and tents. But the people who had occupied those tents and used those vehicles were underground in caves and bunkers that the dragons couldn’t touch.

  A total of twelve dragons had been knocked to the ground by the vehicles that had been made to destroy high technology weapons on another world. Those vehicles had also been destroyed, and the flying armada had barely been dented. It flew on into the valley, heading for the brain of the stranger’s sanctuary.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  There were only about a hundred dragons left on her side of the ridge as Jessica Stuart brought her Comanche up off the deck. She climbed into the sky, up to the level of the monsters, keeping station on the lead chopper. Her weapons officer painted one of the bigger dragons with the laser, made sure none of the other gunships were targeting it, then attached a hellfire to the reflective dot on his control screen.

  “You’re up,” he said, and the light blinked green on her console.

  Jessica checked to make sure the proper missile was up on her trigger, then waited for the command.