Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons

by Doug Dandridge

  At a command the second squadron came in, and then the third, then the fourth. He lost two more birds, and one pilot. One had been able to get off his bird after it took a half a dozen arrows, including a couple that inflicted mortal wounds. The chute opened while the pilot was still a hundred meters up, and the man made a hard but safe landing on the friendly side of the river.

  The fortress was a mass of confusion as people ran back and forth, and a bucket brigade was formed from one of the wells. Smoke was blowing across the open square, and many of the defenders were trying to extricate their own from the smashed buildings, but it wasn't as bad as it looked. Overall, the attack had not done that much. It had wrecked some of the buildings the garrison slept and messed in, but there were other places under stouter protection. The walls were still manned, the enemy had too much discipline to pull everyone off, and none of the defensive structures had been damaged. That was not the point of this attack, as it hadn't been the point of the catapult assault. It had been intended as a galling attack and nothing more.

  With that thought the colonel guided his bird away, on the trail of the rest of his wing, while another group took up position overhead, ready for the next assault. And so it would continue through the afternoon. They had over four hundred battle hawks, and the order was to use them to their best advantage.

  * * *

  "They are attacking the bridge over the Zontalis river, my Emperor," said the cowering messenger, averting his eyes from the man who held the power of life and death over everyone in the capital.

  "Is the defense holding out?"

  "So far, my Emperor. They have only attacked the fortress on the far side, and they haven't been able to breach the wall. But the commander is calling for reinforcements."

  The half litch sat on his throne and said nothing for some minutes. He did not want the enemy to make it over the river, but he couldn't see how they would stop them. Delay them, bleed them, yes. And reinforcing the river fort would weaken the force he would need to hold his capital.

  "The commander said that the enemy is sending battle hawks over continuously to drop rocks on the fort, and he has nothing to stop them."

  The Emperor stood, stepping down from his dais and advancing on the messenger. He had made it a point to not take it out on the messenger, since that dissuaded people from telling him the truth. This time his temper had gotten the best of him, and he was in a killing rage at the elf speaking to him while he was trying to think.

  The half litch said the quick words to a familiar spell as he reached a hand toward the warrior. He could feel the life energy start to flow from the other elf, who looked up with shock in his eyes when he realized what was happening.

  "Fool. No one speaks while I am in contemplation."

  The elf tried to get to his feet, whether to run or to fight the Emperor he wasn't sure. Not that either would have helped him, because he immediately stumbled and fell back to his knees. The Emperor smiled as the life force flowed into his body, energizing him and driving the depressive thoughts from his mind. He pulled as hard as he could, until the last erg of energy came through the connection. The face of the man had turned into that of a desiccated mummy, and the bag of bones fell to the floor.

  The Emperor laughed, then the smile was wiped from his face by a frown. He had achieved momentary satisfaction, but had also assured that any messengers in the future would be too terrified to approach him with bad news. Moreover, he still had to deal with the siege of the fortress, and now needed someone to carry the news.

  "I need my military advisers," he yelled out, knowing that servants would hear him and take word to the men. "And someone come in here and get this carrion out of here."

  In moments a trio of servants ran in, eyes down on the floor, bodies trembling as they moved. They grabbed the desiccated body that weighed less than a third that it had in life, and lifted it, running it out of the chamber. It took several minutes for one of the military advisers to come into the chamber, holding his eyes down, ready for the worst.

  "I want you to get together the following reinforcements for the river forts," said the Emperor. "And I expect them to reach there in a timely manner. Understood?"

  * * *

  "I'm surprised General Taylor allowed you out of the valley, Mr. Grueber," said Walter Delgado to the man they were calling the wizard.

  "I told him that if he wanted me to work on the other toys for his army, he would damn sure let me fire this one in combat the first time." The middle-aged man patted the barrel of his toy.

  To Delgado it looked like a modified twelve pounder Napoleon, a civil war weapon. The back end was different, a wide bell instead of the narrow continuation of the barrel. The firing mechanism was different as well, with a screw on hatch and that had the actual mechanism.

  He looked back at the engineer. Taylor had risked much in letting him come, since he was the brains behind the newly formulated old technology he was developing. There was more on the drawing board, but so far this was the best-perfected weapon they could come up with.

  "The sun's going to rise soon, and I want you to get your shot in before they have time to notice this weapon," said Delgado, pointing to the gate that stood five hundred meters away, out of standard bowshot, but not out of the range of some of the enchanted bows or the power bolts of mages. The gate itself was made of dwarven forged steel, not Mithril, since that would have been prohibitively expensive, but the next best thing. It would take more than one shot to bring it down. They really didn't know how many shots, which was why they had six of the guns lined up in embrasures, with plenty of heavy balls and the substances needed to fire them.

  "Then let's load them," said the engineer, moving over and spinning the firing mechanism to open it. The crews of the other guns went through the same motions, preparing their weapons for firing.

  The engineer pulled the mechanism away, waiting while some of the other crew poured water from a bucket into the chamber. Two men wrestled the ball into the mouth of the barrel, letting it roll in the half meter that was slightly wider than the ball. The men with the ram came up and pushed, hard, moving the ball into the narrow part of the barrel that formed a seal.

  "This is the source," said Grueber, holding up a glittering gem and seating it in the firing mechanism, making sure it was in the proper orientation, and then cocking the Mithril hammer. That done he carefully placed the mechanism over the opening and screwed it in.

  "One must be careful that the gem remains in place while loading, and that the hammer does not fall before you are ready."

  "How likely is that?" asked Delgado, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the weapon, which seemed to be as dangerous to the user as the target.

  "Not likely, but possible. Which makes it a weapon not to use on the field of battle, when quickness counts, and only in siege warfare."

  "We're ready, Master Engineer," said the gun captain, attaching the lanyard to the firing mechanism.

  "Everyone," said Grueber, looking at the crew. "Stay clear of the recoil."

  Delgado made sure he was well clear. From all he had heard the weapon performed wonderfully. But he didn't want to lose his life to random chance, when there were so many other things on this world out to kill him on purpose.

  The engineer stepped three paces to the side of the gun, took one last look, and then pulled the lanyard. There was a crack within the chamber that started showing a slight reddish glow. Moments later the ball came flying out of the barrel, followed by a cloud of steam and a hissing bang. It traveled so fast that it was little more than a flash before it was gone, with much greater velocity than the civil war weapon it looked like. An instant after firing the gate to the fortress clanged with the hit, the ball falling away after leaving a dent in the metal.

  The other five weapons fired, sending their projectiles unerringly into the gate, where they all bounced with a staccato clang.

  "Step back now, Master Engineer," said Delgado, waving the man away while th
e crew went to service the weapons. The men all wore heavy leather armor, with thick gloves to handle the heated metal.

  Steam puffed into the air as the firing mechanisms were removed. Buckets of water were poured into the chambers, flushing out more steam and cooling the gun, while more of the crew pushed new balls into the barrels and shoved them down. It took over a minute to service the guns, but not long after that all six were ready. On command they all fired, and six balls again slammed into the gate, again leaving large dents in the metal.

  The enemy tried their best to interfere with the firing. Arrows fell short, as expected, but some enchanted bows sent arrows out that had the range. Most that made it hit the guns or the sides of the embrasures, though one made it through to hit a crewman, dropping him to the ground with a serious wound. The next volley of arrows hit a mass of wind raised by Heidle, and were knocked to the ground fifty meters from the target. Mage thrown bolts of power did little better, hitting the shield that the mages had erected and were constantly strengthening.

  An hour into firing, after an expenditure of over three hundred balls, and the gunners slowing from fatigue, one of the valves of the gate started to sag on a broken hinge. Both valves looked like they had been made of Earthly sheet metal battered by sledgehammers in the hands of strong men for half a day. However, they were still in place, and it looked like it might take all day to breach them. There was always a chance one would cave in, and the general wanted to be ready for that chance.

  "Are the assault teams ready?" asked Delgado, looking over at his aide.

  "They are, sir."

  Delgado glanced back to see the men of the first brigade arranged in assault companies, javelins in hand, shields readied on the other. He could see some fear in the eyes of the men in the first rank of the first company. He couldn't blame them. Combat on this world was mostly close quarters, looking into the eyes of an enemy who was trying to take your life before you took his. Even men he recognized as veterans showed some signs of anxiety. Why not, given they knew what was about to happen?

  "I want them to go forward as soon as one of those valves falls," he told the aide. "No use giving the enemy time to make more preparations." He looked over at one of his mages. "And make sure General von Mannerheim knows when we are breaching the gate."

  Kurt would not be going forward immediately. He would wait until the fort he was facing, hopefully without the defenders' knowledge, had sent reinforcements over the bridge to try and stop Delgado's attack. If he could take the far fort the enemy would be in a bad way, with no place to go as they were besieged through their fortresses.

  Ten minutes later the left valve sagged for a couple of moments, then fell from its last supporting hinge, to clang onto the stone road, where it slid off. The other valve sagged in further. A final ball hit that valve, swinging it in, and the way was open.

  "Go," yelled the company commander of the first assault formation, leading the way as the almost two hundred men ran forward, shields held at the ready. Companies of archers ran along to the side, arrows notched.

  A sleet of arrows came from the walls, striking the shields, helms and greaves of the soldiers, dropping a few to the ground. The bowmen stopped and sent back a rain of answering shafts, while the catapults and cannon opened up, aiming at the wall tops of the fort.

  The captain leading the first company fell with a glowing arrow, a magical penetrator, sticking from his back. One of the lieutenants hurried forward, taking the place of his captain and leading them toward the gate, where a wall of enemy were already forming. The legionaries went into a sprint over the last fifty meters, and the lines clashed together in a continuous cacophony of arms and armor.

  There wasn't enough room in the gate to send more than a company in at a time. In fact, there was only room for a ten-man front, which wasn't fair to those men who found themselves stuck into the fight. The Ellala elves had been warriors for centuries, maybe millennia, and they were to a man better swordsmen. In this kind of fight the victory didn't often go to the better swordsman, but to he who stayed in formation and protected his fellows. That's what the humans had trained to do, and they formed an overlapping shield wall that protected them from the swung swords of the elves, while they thrust their short blades through the small gaps that had been formed between the shields. The men in the two ranks behind raised spears in one hand and thrust them forward and down, adding their attacks to the battle, while men even further back flung their pilum, the legendary javelins of the Romans, into the ranks of Ellala.

  Four elves fell for every human, but humans did fall. The men behind pulled them from the lines before they could get underfoot, some still alive for the healers to wrap and bandage, most bleeding out too quickly. Men in the rear stepped into the places of the fallen, pushing forward quickly to protect the flanks of those exposed by the lack of a soldier. In most cases they got there in time, sometimes not.

  Archers in the rear sent shafts upward, trying to suppress the enemy archers on the walls, while those warriors sent shafts down into the company of legionaries, who were holding their shields overhead to catch the arrows. The archer exchange was going the way of the defenders, having the height advantage and the protection of the crenellations of the wall. The alliance archers had the protection of their light armor, but didn't have the shields of the legionaries, and two of them were dropping for every defender. However, there were more of them, and they knew if they kept at it they would win the exchange.

  Delgado cringed inside as he watched the battle. He didn’t like this kind of fight. The armies of NATO on Earth had always held the technology advantage, and had overwhelming firepower. Here it was muscle to muscle, with the men in the front almost certainly doomed. He was forced to watch while maintaining an outward calm that was a lie. If he could have, he would have put himself in those front lines, knowing that he would fall just as fast as any other would. Probably faster. That role was forbidden to him as army commander. He was the brains, and one didn’t lead a battle with the head.

  A sextet of cannon balls hit the wall, four hitting too low to do more than bounce away with a spray of small rock chips, more danger to the friendlies below than to the enemy. One went through the gap of a crenellation and knocked two archers away, while another hit the edge of the stone tooth and sprayed the defenders with chips.

  A mage stepped up on the wall and sent a ball of fire at the heavy infantry below. The flames washed over the men, and faded, with no effect. Delgado smiled as he thought of the shock the wizard must have been feeling, just before a shaft hit her in the chest and she fell back from the wall. The men in the assault companies were all true believers of the gods of Earth, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, even some Jews, immune to the effects of magic good and bad. The general, with aforethought, had been forced to use them, and he was sorry to expend that resource which was not renewable, at least not at a rate that could replenish the loss. But he needed to take this fort, and he did not want to lose more men to wizardry than he could help.

  If only we could get in under the ground, thought the general. The dwarven engineers had tried, but the walls of the fort went too deep, right down to the bedrock. Any attempt to get down that low ran into the water table from the river. That didn't mean there were no other ways to get men in, and that attack would be going in right about, now.

  Chapter Nine

  The birds approached from down low, just over the treetops, what would have been called knap of the earth back on the old world. The thirty baskets were towed behind, each attached to three birds by ropes. Bags of gas lifted the baskets in the air, helium gas, magically primed with ten times the lifting power that they possessed on Earth, holding them up. In each basket were eight armored dwarves, fighting men as stout and hardy as any on the world, and two Conyastoya Elf archers. A squadron of dragons flew with them, ready to provide fire support for the landing.

  Another ninety birds, towing another thirty baskets, moved five kilometers to the south, cr
ossing the river and preparing for their part of the assault.

  It took some practice to accomplish the maneuvers, slinging the baskets against the wall back by the river, where it was not heavily defended. The teams had practiced this maneuver for over a week on another castle, one taken months before. Just before they hit the wall the elves threw grapples onto the ramparts, making sure the baskets didn't bounce away. They secured the grapples and started to ply their bows, while the dwarves scrambled onto the wall, meeting the defenders breast to breast.

  The Ellala had the advantage of speed and agility, but the top of the wall gave them little space to use either to its full advantage. The Mountain Dwarves held the advantage of strength and stamina, and the wall was a perfect battleground for the stout folk as they covered behind their shields and struck with their heavy axes. They pushed out from their landing points and secured the wall, cutting down the defenders who hadn't a chance. More elves swarmed up the stairs until the dwarves overran the landings, and then started to fight their way down. The Conyastoya plied their bows, raining arrows down on the enemy below. Some of the dwarves dropped rope ladders off the wall, as soon as they were secured, allowing more human legionaries to swarm up them and swell the ranks on top of the wall.

  The men at the gate redoubled their efforts as attention was turned to the wall. They pushed through, opening a space where the front line could expand from ten to thirty wide. It was obvious that the first layer of the defense had been breached, but there was still a tough fight ahead.

  * * *

  The ten reds came down the river from the north, flying in perfect formation, their riders watching the skies around them, waiting for the reaction of the enemy. At one time they had been able to cover the sky with their numbers, the terror of the Empire. Now there were less than a hundred of the beasts, and very few were the huge monsters that should have gone on a mission like this. These were some of the last adults in the Imperial Dragon Corps.