Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons

by Doug Dandridge

  “And what are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t do it anymore. I grew sick of slaughtering innocent people who wanted nothing more than to live their lives in peace. So I left my command. I have no family for that evil bastard to torment. Only myself to think of, and I have had enough.”

  “So, you’re here to help us depose the man you had served for how many years?”

  “Over a thousand,” said the commander, again looking off the side of his horse to the ground.

  Damn, thought the colonel. He still had problems thinking about how long some of these people lived. The dwarves could go for over four hundred years, the wood elves for several thousand. And the Ellala were said to reach four thousand regularly. The elf sitting his horse in front of him could have been a young man in his twenties if he were human. The down side of that was promotion came slowly, when the people ahead of you could also hold their positions for over a thousand years. But to live that long?

  “You don’t really think we will trust you, do you? Right now I’m tempted to have some of my men execute you for war crimes.”

  The Ellala looked him straight in the eye with those oversized blue orbs, all pupil. “I only ask, n I beg, that you allow me to pray to the Gods of Life for forgiveness before you kill me. It may not be enough to save me from a thousand years of torment, but I would at least like to make the effort.”

  McGurk continued to look into those eyes, He realized that this man was ready to meet his death, but wanted to atone for the misery he had caused others. If they were on a battle field, the colonel would strike him down without a thought. But the idea of ordering someone who had no ability to resist killed, in cold blood, didn’t sit well with him.

  “Okay. I’ll send you back to our army commander. I’m sure he’ll have some questions for you. And the priests back there can tell if you are trustworthy. You’ll go back with a squad, including a couple of horse archers, so don’t get any ideas.”

  “Colonel,” protested the sergeant. “This bastard commanded people that did things like this. Give me the word and I’ll put a sword in his guts, and leave him to bleed out on the ground.”

  “You will do no such thing, sergeant,” growled McGurk. “We may no longer be on Earth, but this army still adheres to the rules of warfare as formulated on our home planet. You will gather your squad and take him back to the general. And I don’t want to hear about any kind of funny business along the way.”

  “And if he runs?” asked the sergeant, a slight smile on his face.

  “If he runs you can cut him down. But be sure you will face a priest if that happens, and we will find out the truth. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the sergeant, sitting up in his saddle and saluting.

  “And what will happen to me when I meet this general?” asked the Ellala, his expression showing that he really didn’t care all that much one way or another. This was an elf truly defeated, no longer willing to fight for the savage beast that led his empire, and ready to die if that was called for.

  “That’s up to General Delgado. What I can promise you is, if you behave, nothing will happen to you on the way there. After that, it’s out of my hands.”

  “And I understand, Colonel. Thank you.”

  The Ellala rode off between the two troopers. Very soon he would be on the way back to the army field headquarters. If he can get more of his people to come over, men like himself, we won’t have to kill as many of them. Antwoine McGurk would kill as many men as it took to win this war, but the fewer the better as far as he was concerned.

  * * *

  Commodore Steffan Hauser smiled as he walked aboard his new flagship. The galleys were fine vessels, and they would still perform yeoman's service in the battles ahead, but this ship was a beauty. Oh, the New Berlin had her faults. She looked like a slab-sided block floating in the water, and her twin stacks looked like poles sticking out of an oblong. There was nothing elegant or graceful about her. She was made for one purpose, and on this planet, at this level of technology, she was probably going to be very good at that task.

  He had been flown here by dragon to take command of the squadron. As the most experienced naval officer in the alliance they had picked him to take charge. The galleys of his former squadron would still be in service, as there was nothing wrong with them, despite being made obsolete by the steamships. However, until they had more of the steam-powered vessels they would remain in service under a newly promoted commodore.

  "Permission to come aboard?" he asked as he stood at the end of the plank. He took a moment to look to the left, then the right, taking in the sister ships of the New Berlin, the only other vessels of her class ready for this campaign.

  "Permission granted, sir," said Captain Ellysar Kelliosos, the Ellala commander of the vessel. The elf didn't have any experience with steamships, or ironclads, but he was very experienced with rivercraft, hence his position.

  Hauser walked up the plank, smiling as he took in the ten gun ports on the port side of the ship. The starboard side was equipped with the same number of guns, while the bow had a mere two guns, though they were of larger caliber than the broadside armament. The hatch in the side was open, and he could take in the thickness of the hull, a half-meter of strong oak overlaid by five centimeters of steel, faced with Mithril. It was the strongest armor on the planet as far as they knew, and the most durable since the tanks had gone down. The Mithril gave it more resistance to magic than the armor of the tanks had done. The addition of select mages ensured that this ship would not go up in flames because of one hit by a fireball. It wasn't invulnerable, but it was the next best thing to it.

  "We're firing up the engines now, sir," said the exec, coming up through the central passage. "We should be up to steam in thirty minutes."

  Hauser listened while he nodded. It was nowhere near what he had been used to in the German navy, when they could get the turbines up in less than a minute. The speed would be nothing to write home about, either, if he could write to his home.

  "Here's the bridge, Commodore," said Kelliosos, gesturing through the hatch.

  The commodore walked in, his eyes landing on every corner of the six by six meter chamber. He had been involved in the design of this thing, but this was the first time he had ever set foot on the real deal. The shutters were open, raised on their poles. The shutters all had viewing slits in them, wide enough that an arrow could make it through by chance, but not likely. Centered in the chamber near the front was the wheel, much like an old ship's steering mechanism, almost a meter in width with handles set at thirty-degree increments. To one side of the wheel was the mechanical telegraph to the engines, along with a speaking tube. Another speaking tube came out of the ceiling.

  "Your flag bridge is above," said the captain, pointing to the ladder.

  Of course, on the most vulnerable part of the ship, thought the commodore with a laughing snort. It was also the highest viewpoint on the vessel, giving the commodore the best vista of the battlefield.

  Hauser climbed the ladder, stepping out into the flag bridge that was no larger than the chamber below. There was a bank of speaking tubes, one going below, another to the signal deck near the stacks, and a third back to the engine room. There was a pair of comfortable seats near the front of the chamber, one for the commodore, one for…who?

  He walked over to the speaking tube bank and spoke into the one leading down. "Captain. I want us underway as soon as you have the power." He picked up the tube leading to the signal deck. "This is the commodore. Signal the other ships in the squadron that we will be leaving the dockyard area. They are to follow New Berlin on the planned course.”

  At the appointed time the ropes were released and the engines of the ironclad churned into action, the twin screws pushing her through the water. The commodore took the ladder up to the next level, a flat deck with a handrail running around, giving the best view on the ship, as long as they weren't under fire. New Berlin was moving toward the cente
r of the wide river, her stacks putting out masses of black smoke. Behind her steamed her two sisters. The river had a current of about three knots in the center, and the ships could make about fourteen knots, meaning they would make eleven against the current. When they reached the first of the Grand Lakes, whatever current there was would be negligible, and then the trip down the river with the current.

  It would take them five days to get to the target, and he hoped that the enemy would be mightily surprised. How could they not be when the seventy-eight meter, three thousand ton vessels came steaming up, belching black smoke and firing ten-kilogram balls at the enemy works? Each of the ships had two hundred and twenty crewmembers divided among sailors, stokers and gunners, with forty of the men trained as Marines. For this trip each also carried a hundred archers.

  It was hoped that they would avoid action until they reached the river where they were to help in crossing. Hauser hoped no such thing. He wanted to see what these ships would do against those of the enemy. Based on his knowledge of ships, they should be able to brush aside any enemy force with ease, but this was not Earth, and the magic of the enemy might hold some surprises.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "In three more nights we are going to have a major problem, General Taylor," said the high priest of Arathonia, stopping in front of the commanding officer's desk.

  "What now?" asked Taylor, spilling coffee on his uniform as he took in the words 'major problem.'

  "It is time for a Lycanthropes moon."

  Taylor sat there for a moment, thinking about what the Ellala had said. They had already been through a couple of major lycanthropy events since arriving on this world, which seemed to be crawling with the shape shifters. Werewolves, wereboars, werebears, you name it. Werebears were good, mostly, while the boars and others could go either way, depending on the personality of their human forms. Werewolves were almost universally evil. All could change at will, and all were resistant to damage by normal weapons. On the night of a full moon they had to change, and they were much more powerful. Those changing the night of a full Lunas were very strong, those changing on the nights of the other moons were not quite as stout. And when multiple moons were in the sky, they became stronger to the extent that the effects of the moons added together. And when all three moons were in the sky?

  "Jesus Christ," said the general, slamming down the cup and spilling more coffee on his desk. "How powerful are these things going to be? And why haven't we heard of them before? And why the hell are you just bringing this to me now?"

  “The Lycanthropes' moon occurs every year and a half, when all three of the bodies align. As to how powerful, it is almost indescribable. Most of the people of this world hide in a fortified position during the night, even high priests." The priest looked down at the floor for a moment, an embarrassed expression on his face. “And, we just assumed that everyone knew of this event, and had marked it on their calendars.”

  Taylor shook his head in disbelief. His people were newcomers here. Nothing like this ever happened on Earth, and why didn’t the idiots in charge of the priesthood realize that? But they hadn’t. To them it was just something that everyone knew.

  "Can they be killed?" asked Taylor, trying to think of what he was going to do with his army in the field. Those men and women were not going to be able to get into fortified positions, not all of them.

  "It's not unheard of," said the priest, eliciting a hiss of relief from the general. "If one has a god weapon and is an exceptional warrior."

  "Shit." There were god weapons out there, a few. But he had an entire valley to protect, and the supply line to the army. There was no way they could cover that entire area. They could probably get everyone in the valley into one of the old fortified areas, including the old city on the plateau and the caves along the north wall. There were several intact fortresses along the supply line, including the multiple bridge forts they had taken. But enough?

  “What happens to my people if they’re just wounded?”

  “Then they become one of the lycanthropes that inflicted the wound. Good, if that beast is good. Evil if not. Not always evil, but definitely when the change occurs with the lunar cycles.”

  "Get me all of my senior mindtalkers and com mages," shouted Taylor to the people in the outer office. He looked up at the priest, at first wanting to shout at him for not bringing this forward before. He calmed himself and took a deep breath. "Thank you, your holiness. Now, I need to get this information out to my people in the field."

  "They may already know, some of them," said the high priest after a shallow bow. "After all, everyone on this world keeps track of such things. That was why I didn't think of telling you until now. It occurred to me that some of you might not know."

  The priest turned and walked out of the office, leaving the general to his thoughts, until the first of the com specialists came to stand before him.

  * * *

  “Tonight is lycanthrope’s moon, my Lord,” said the priest, bowing to the emperor.

  “Of course it is,” said the half litch emperor. “Everyone knows that.”

  “But these newcomers have never experienced one before. Tonight will hold special terrors for them.”

  And it would, thought the Emperor, staring at the priest. If I have organized shapeshifters at the ready.

  Unfortunately, all of the evil shapeshifters that might be his to command had been killed off in the last attack. If not killed, they were at least in hiding. He had no one he could call on. He thought for a moment about ordering his army to strike, catching the enemy cowering in whatever shelter they could find, with no sentries on duty. He dismissed that notion as soon as it came. As afraid as his people were of him, they would be even more frightened of being out this night. It would take several strong men to pry the fingers off whatever the unfortunate was holding onto to prevent himself from being ejected into the night. Even then, they would be just as likely to go screaming into the night looking for a hiding place. Unless.

  “Summon the vampire queen. I think I have a task that is right up her people’s alley.”

  * * *

  "They need all of us out there tonight. Werewolf time."

  "Not again," groaned Jackie, shaking her head. "You'd think those assholes would have learned by now."

  Every time the lycanthropes or vampires had attacked, the immortals had proven more than a match for them. Their peculiar physiologies protected them from whatever shapeshifter plague the monsters carried. They still might be killed, if a pack was able to down one of them and rip them apart. Otherwise, to the immortals they were just an inconvenience, but not so to the others in the army.

  "This time it's much worse," said the big German. "This time it's something called the Lycanthrope moon, when all of them are full. And the werebeasts are much stronger, almost invicible."

  "And that's just wonderful," said Izabella, rolling her eyes. "If they're invincible, how are we expected to kill them?"

  "Almost invincible," said Kurt. "From what I've been told, a god weapon in the hands of a great warrior can take them down."

  "Which means you're set," said Paul Mason-Smythe in his bass voice. The huge Brit towered over all of the other immortals, and had the build of a titan. He had been an officer in the Sherwood Foresters, a mechanized infantry battalion in the British Army of the Rhine, and as far as they knew the only Brit unit that had come over. Maybe the only English people from Earth to make it over.

  "You might be able to smash a werewolf with that big hammer," said Gregor after a laugh. "Or maybe we can get you an even bigger hammer."

  Paul shot a glare the Russian's way. The Brit had been mistaken for some kind of shape shifter after he had healed from having his throat ripped out fighting undead. They had mistook what they saw as an unnatural recovery as something supernatural.

  "What we will have is the best weapons we can get," said Kurt, looking over at the implements of destruction laying on a tarp. "I already have the best I
can get, as does Jackie."

  "And I think I have myself covered," said Levine, hefting his own sword, a godblade of a lesser deity of Law.

  "Gregor, I think this might suit you," said Kurt, reaching down and picking up a sheathed two-handed blade. "Not a major god blade, but the weapon of one of the secondary gods of the river. I think in your hands it will suffice."

  Gregor smiled and took the sword, holding the sheath in one hand and grabbing the hilt with the other. He pulled the blade, which glowed with a bluish light. "What does it do?"

  "I have no idea," said Kurt, looking at the runes on the blade. “The priest didn't know either. Only that it had something to do with the power of the god."

  "Maybe it will let you bathe the monsters," said Izabella with a smile. "And what about me?"

  "Not a god blade, but one forged by the greatest dwarf smith in the history of this world," said Kurt, lifting up a bastard sword, also in a finely tooled sheath. "They found this on the body of the commander of the river fort. It was originally made as a werewolf killer. So maybe in your capable hands it will kill several of the bastards."

  "And that hammer is for me?" asked Paul, pointing a thick finger at the last weapon on the tarp. It was a warhammer, one that looked like it would need a giant to wield. Paul wasn't a giant, but he had the strength of one. “What’s wrong with the one I’ve got?”

  "It is," said Kurt, lifting the weapon and actually having some trouble with it. "And I think you’ll like it even better. Here," he said, tossing the weapon at the Brit, who caught it in one hand and cursed at the weight.

  "No one's sure where in the hell that one came from. But it seems to have the power of kinetic shocks built into it. One of the priests thinks it may have been a weapon forged by one of the old forgotten gods. And we know that no one in the army can wield it. So that leaves you."