"I agree," said Kurt, hoping they could get off this subject and back to things that might actually be helpful. This was now their world, now and forever, and they had to work together to make it as hospitable a world as possible for their people, and those who were friendly to them. "We need to talk about what we are going to do in the here and now."
Everyone was silent for almost half an hour, lost in their own thoughts as they rode on. Then Paul opened his mouth again, and the argument was off and running. All Kurt could do this time was keep his mouth shut, hope the time would go by quickly, and they would reach Delgado's headquarters, now up ahead, before several of the immortals tried to prove that there were other ways for them to die.
Chapter Sixteen
"Dragons," called out a voice from the top deck, followed by the clanging of bells.
Commodore Hauser looked up to the ceiling, recalling that he would not be able to see what was going on up there, then ran to the ladder leading to the top deck. That deck was divided into two sections, fore and aft of the stacks. It had a meter-high armored wall along the outside, where troops on deck could shelter from other ships and the shore. Also up here were a number of anti-air weapons, deployed specifically in case of dragon attack. They were being cranked and deployed as the commodore came on deck.
"Sir," called out a young lieutenant. "Are you sure you want to be up here?"
"I want to see how our defenses work, Lieutenant," said Hauser, his eyes scanning the sky, looking for the beasts. Theoretically, they would be able to hurt them if they came in for an attack, possibly even kill them, as long as they weren't dealing with a great wyrm. The armor of those beasts would most likely repel anything they had.
"There they are, sir," the young officer said, pointing up and to the horizon.
There were five of the beasts and they looked big enough in the distance, though nowhere near the size of a great wyrm. Still, this would be the first time an ironclad ran into any kind of dragon, and the outcome was not a sure thing.
The forward upper deck contained a dozen of the single scorpions, like a long narrow crossbow that swiveled easily for aiming. There were an equal number of arrow machines, each containing thirty of the meter and a half long shafts, fired in a volley by the five bow arms. They could penetrate three times as far as any bow-launched arrows. There were also six swinging cannon firing one-kilogram balls, and the numerous archers. The stern deck had half as much armament, as befitting its shorter length. There had been talk of mounting full artillery pieces up here, but the decision had been made to restrict them to the gun deck, since there were not that many of them yet. They would gain greater protection against the type of things the ships were most likely to meet. There were also several mages on the deck, the old remedy for fighting dragons, though often very rough on the mages.
"Get ready, lads," yelled out the voice of one of the chief petty officers. "Here they come."
Hauser looked over at where the petty officer was pointing, seeing the dragons, now lower and heading for the rearmost ship. The alliance had been experimenting with using battlehawks as dive bombers, dropping fifty or eighty-kilogram pieces of metal shaped to have low wind resistance and high penetration value. Obviously, the air warfare specialists of the Ellala Empire hadn't learned that lesson. The dragons were going to come in low and slow, making them perfect targets.
Of course, he was also a pretty good target up here on the top deck and burning to death was not his idea of the best way to go out. But he had come up here, and he couldn't flee below without everyone thinking him a coward. He was up here, so he had to stay. And he had to have faith in his people to kill the attackers.
The stern most vessel, New Hannover, loosed before the dragons got within range of their breath weapons. None of the larger bolts hit, and only one dragon was hit with machine launched arrows, swerving and dipping, but not falling out of the sky.
Three of the dragons were able to get off bursts of flame that covered the rear upper deck. Men screamed and several fell over the side, their bodies on fire. As they flew over, the front two of the dragons released gouts of fire, rolling them across the deck. More screams, more burning men running. A ball of fire rose from the deck and hit the rearmost dragon, blasting it with magical fire, engulfing the rider and shredding one of the wings. The dragon turned over in the air and hit the water in a heavy splash. It wasn't dead, and came back to the surface to try to swim to shore like a lizard.
One of the other dragons intercepted a trio of bolts, followed by a score of meter and a half arrows. That dragon also fell into the water, and this one did not resurface. A rider slumped over another dragon, an arrow through his armored back. The dragon continued on, heading for the second target, the Washington.
Washington was ready, and a swarm of projectiles headed into the dragons. Only one was left, its rider dead, flapping heavily with a bolt through its body. An arrow machine on New Berlin took care of the last beast, dropping it into the water to float like a fallen log.
They hadn't gotten away unscathed. Men had died on the other two ships. He wasn't sure of how many, but it could be a significant number. Nevertheless, the defense had worked, at least against one small half squadron. He wasn't sure how they would have handled a swarm, but there weren't that many left.
A boat was being lowered over the side, half a dozen rowers and four priests aboard. They were sending healers back to the other ships. Possibly some of those burned men would be returned to duty. The dead would be given a river burial.
* * *
“Well, this is the next obstacle we face,” said Lt. General Delgado, hitting the pointer on the table.
The army field headquarters was set up in a large clearing, a brigade of infantry encamped to provide security. It was a general purpose large tent provided by the US Army, and the largest they used. Raiders had been hitting the columns regularly, mostly barbarian horsemen, with some groups of Grogatha. They hadn’t done much to the columns, who were capable of fighting them off, but they had taken a toll on the supply convoys, forcing the alliance to send more cavalry back to escort them. Going back and forth over the same stretches of road would be wearing out the cavalry.
[We faced the same thing in Russia,] sent Kurt to Jackie. [The further we got into the territory of the Ivans, the more soldiers we needed to protect our supply lines. And we didn’t have them to spare.]
“There is the River Allasos, in between us and their capital city of A’ataponia. From the drawings I have seen, it looks like this planet’s version of New York City. Maybe not nearly as big, but impressive still. And it’s built right on this river. Now I wasn’t about to try and take the bridge into the city, since its far end fort is the city, and I didn’t want to try and take that from the narrow confines of a bridge. Aerial recon shows that they are starting to demolish the bridge, which really works in our favor, since it removes a pathway into our rear areas during our attack.”
“And just how do you expect to attack them, sir?” asked one of the brigade commanders, Colonel Ellison Standitch.
“I’m so glad you asked, Colonel,” said Delgado in a conspiratorial tone, showing that Standitch was primed to ask the question. “We are going to do an old-fashioned amphibious assault, and take the far shore, then set up on the field on that side of the city. And Colonel Standitch’s brigade will be leading the way, since they haven’t seen much action thus far.”
“Like D-day, sir?” asked another officer, and some of the people in the large tent laughed.
“Well, not quite as big, nor as complicated,” said Delgado with a smile. “I’m thinking more like we ferry a division across to hold the landing zone, and then move another across the next day. We’ll have the ironclads here by then, so we shouldn’t have any worries about the enemy cutting our supply line.”
“And if they decide to use their dragons?” asked Paul Mason-Smythe in his rumbling voice. “They still have them you know, sir.”
“And we have
more,” said Delgado, fixing the Brit with a cold stare. “And from what I understand, the ironclads took on a dragon attack, six of them I believe, and splashed all of them. Without losing a ship. If they still have enough to threaten us, I will put every asset we have in the air to interdict them.”
Delgado turned to look around the room. “Believe me, gentlemen and ladies. We are going to press this attack across the river. And then we are going to go all out to take the city before winter closes down the campaigning season.”
Kurt stood there looking at the general. He couldn’t blame the man for wanting to take the enemy capital before winter, so that the army didn’t have to spend four local months out in the weather. But he also recalled Stalingrad, and how they had wanted to capture a city before winter at the end of a long supply line. And had ended fighting well into the winter, until cut off. His unit had been in Army Group Center, so he hadn’t experience the dreadful conditions of Sixth Armee, and he didn’t want to have to experience it here, either.
* * *
“We have been communing with our goddess, General,” said the high priest of Arathonia. “And I cannot guarantee that she will send angels to combat the demons if you face them again.”
“That’s not good,” said Taylor, putting down the report he was reading. They weren’t facing as many of the Ellala in the field as before, and intelligence thought they were running short of trained warriors, holding back what they had to the battle of the capital. What they did have were barbarians, mostly eastern nomads, with some western red humans and Grogatha sprinkled in, to keep hitting the supply lines. Two thirds of their supplies were still getting through, but that one third could be the difference between the army making it through the winter or not. The good news was that the cargo steamers would be ready for deployment in three weeks, and then they could ship supplies uninterrupted to the Allasos River, where the enemy would be deployed.
“Does your goddess want us to win this thing or not?” asked Taylor, fixing the priest with a cold stare. “If not, maybe we should just pack it in and retreat back to our valley. Let the bastard have his way with your people while we worry about our own.”
“The goddess would not like that, General Taylor. In fact, she would be very angry with you and yours. She might send you crop failures, plagues or famine.”
“So what you’re saying is that your goddess is no better than the god of the son of a bitch we are fighting. If that’s the case, I think it would be well within our rights to withdraw from her campaign.”
“She…she is not like the one you battle against,” said the high priest, eyes wide in horror. “How dare you say such a thing?”
“From where I sit she looks pretty much the same. If they both deal in plagues and famine, how are they different? And maybe we would be better served to follow the Gods of Law. The dwarves do that, and they seem to do pretty well.”
From the look on the Ellala’s face, he had gotten him with that one. There were four pantheons of gods on this world competing for worshipers, from which they gained their powers. Someone worshiping in one pantheon gained protection from all the others. Limited, sure, and not something guaranteed to protect an individual from the wrath of another, but a nation? They seemed to get along well with one or the other. If Arathonia lost a million worshipers, all of whom switched to the Gods of Law, she would be hurt. Not just emotionally, but in her energy reserve, where it really mattered.
“You don’t understand, General. It is tradition that our Queen not interfere so directly into the affairs of mortals.”
“While Bothar does whatever the hell he wants, sending demons and monsters to help fight his battles?”
“Arathonia gives her servants power.”
“But not as much as Bothar, who allows his to call up demons, or bloodsuckers and shapeshifters. Doesn’t seem like much of a bargain for me.
“Get me one of the dwarven priests,” yelled Taylor from his office, then kicked back to continue to stare at the discomfited Ellala priest.
In minutes, one of the armored priests of the mountain dwarves was in his office, a question on his broad face as he saw the slender Ellala standing there.
“Nosthos,” said Taylor. “Would you be willing to preside over the conversion of the majority of my people to Loristrates?”
The dwarf looked dumbstruck for some moments, and then smiled, while the Ellala continued to scowl.
“The leader of my God’s pantheon would be happy to accept so many of you as worshipers.”
“The priests who convert would lose the healing power of Arathonia,” blurted out the Ellala.
“But Loristrates has healers of his own,” said Nosthos.
“Thank you, Nosthos,” said Taylor, bowing his head to the dwarf. “You’ve given me much to think about.”
The dwarf bowed back, clearly confused, but getting the message.
“I will not order my people to convert. That goes against the freedoms of my land on the other world.”
The Ellala nodded, a look of relief on his face.
“However, if the deity my people serve will not serve them as well, and not to same extent as her enemy, I can see many of them switching religions on their own,” said Taylor, who then gestured for the elf to leave.
The man walked out, a troubled look on his face. Taylor sat back and laughed. He had found the sore spot of the clerics on this world. Just like on Earth, the size of the congregations mattered. And he had given them something to think about.
Chapter Seventeen
Colonel Antwoin McGurk tried to stretch as best he could in his armor, cursing the heavy outerwear as he had never cursed his tank. The horse, a large destrier, snorted under him, and he bit back the curse he was about to level on it. The beast didn't deserve that, and he needed to stay on the good side of it, since it was not only his transportation, but also one of his weapons.
He looked at the men around him. All were without helmets or gauntlets, trying to cool off as much as possible. The colonel knew he should insist on them wearing their full covering at this juncture of the march, when contact with the enemy was imminent. Since he wasn't willing to wear all of it himself, he really couldn't ask them not to do likewise.
The horse snorted again, and he thought it might want water, or maybe food. He had been a tanker, working in armored cavalry in the US Army. A tank was a machine, with gauges that told him when it needed more coolant or fuel. Air conditioned, with a comfortable seat that didn't beat his ass to a pulp. He had ridden on Earth, both at the Point and when he visited his grandmother's ranch in New Mexico, where his father had grown up. He had never been what anyone would call an expert. Now he had ridden thirty times more than he ever had on Earth, and he still wasn't an expert.
"We need to water the animals," said his sergeant major, who as a native of this world was an expert on horses. "According to the map, there should be a stream about two kilometers ahead just off the road.
"I could use a little bit of a rest myself," said McGurk, looking at the map the Ellala man was holding. Sometimes he felt like the Ellala, with their greater life spans, magical natures and physical grace and beauty, resented working under humans who had none of those attributes. Sergeant Major Cannastras seemed to have no resentment for the humans, possibly because of their technical expertise and technological knowhow. And the fact that humans were better suited to heavy cavalry due to their strength. Cannastras himself was heavier and more muscular than most elves, to the point where he was considered an anomaly, maybe looked down upon himself.
"Let’s get the lead riders watered first, and then we can put them out on sentry while the rest of the regiment is taken care of."
The sergeant major gave a very human nod, something he and many of the peoples of this world had picked up from the newcomers.
"Will do, sir," said the Ellala, closing his eyes and going into mindspeak with the commanders of the lead two troops of the first squadron.
McGurk spurred his
horse forward, coughing as the dust of the dry road rose up around him from the horses ahead. Another thing he missed about tanks. They had a filtration system that delivered only fresh breathing air. While here you got whatever happened to be out in the air. All the smoke, all the smells. Including the sickly-sweet stink of dead bodies, another thing he had become much too familiar with on this world.
The stream was where it was supposed to be, and was hard to miss, since the road went over a small stone bridge that crossed it. A couple of troops were already there, the dismounted men letting their horses drink, about two hundred and seventy men and beasts.
"Get those horses downstream of the bridge," yelled McGurk, glaring at one of the troop commanders. "How in the hell do you think we're going to fill our own water bags?"
The troop commander's face reddened, then he started to yell at his own troops, getting them moving. Where horses drank, the water soon became very muddy, and his people didn't like the idea of having grit in their drinking water. The stream was fast flowing, so it wouldn't take more than a couple of minutes to for the upstream area to clear. Meanwhile...
"Regimental staff, to me," shouted McGurk in the command voice he had developed since becoming heavy cavalry, where he could no longer depend on radio.
The twenty or so members of his staff came over, not including his exec, who was further back in the column. The troopers set as security fanned out around him, while the sergeant major and his adjutant, as well as his intelligence officer and the other staff, crowded around.
"Well, that bridge shows that we are here," he said, squatting down with the map on the ground. "I could wish we had a better map, but without aircraft or satellites, this is the best we can do."
Troopers came up to get their horses and water bags to care for both man and beast. The horses moved off with alacrity as they were led to the water.
The Earth soldiers around him smiled, while the natives gave uncomprehending looks. For a hand-drawn map, it was actually pretty good. However, the scale was suspect. McGurk wouldn't have wanted to use it to call in artillery, but since they no longer had that kind of called fire at their command, it wasn't a problem.
Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons Page 19
