Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons

by Doug Dandridge

  The wolves didn't have the power to panic the entire herd, but they were able to affect the mental state of almost six hundred of the beasts. Those panicking caused the fear to spread to the others. Soon every one of the horses were spooked, and were moving across the grassland on their own, carrying helpless riders with them.

  * * *

  "Bugler," shouted out McGurk. "Now you can blow that damned silly thing. Sound charge."

  The bugler, a young German trooper, put the horn to his lips and blew out the tattoo. The other buglers in the squadron took up the tune while the standard-bearers raised their flags up and down, then pointed them at the enemy. That enemy was totally disorganized, their terrified mounts carrying them every which way. The horses wouldn’t be able to tell from what direction the imaginary threat was coming, so they were just striking out wherever it looked like they might have some room to run.

  The squadron rode out from under the trees at a trot, all they could risk still in the confines of the woods. They lined up, the troopers set spurs to flanks and the beasts were off. Over seven hundred lancers had their weapons lowered and were aiming at the center of the disorganized mass, while almost two hundred horse archers started speeding arrows into the nearest barbarians.

  The barbarian commander tried to get his people organized to take the charge, but the confusion was too great. Some of the archers were able to get off shafts, and a dozen or so of the attackers went down as they or their horses were hit. Men received minor injuries from shafts, unless they happened to get hit in the neck or face. The horses had armor, but also many more vulnerable spots.

  It was not the crash of opposing lines when they met, but the staccato clanging of individual jousts. In every instance, the first contact took a nomad from his horse, and less than a minute into the fight the odds were already approaching even. Most of the troopers only got one hit with their lance before it shattered or was lost from their grip. They pulled their long swords or maces and went to work, smashing and cutting the enemy down in their saddles.

  McGurk met a large and better armored than average barbarian who had to be a chieftain. The man was a more skilled horseman and much better with a sword than McGurk, and his blade rang several times on the armor of the American. McGurk was heavily muscled, having grown up in a higher gravity field, His weapon of choice this day was a morning star, and ball of spikes on the end of a chain. A weapon that didn't take a lot of skill, but was hard for a swordsman to deal with. His first strike missed the man and hit the horse, the spikes carving deep gashes in its head. Antoine flinched at the injury. He still didn't like injuring and killing animals, though it was now part of his job description. The barbarian smacked McGurk's ready shield with his blade. The return stroke of the mace wrapped the chain around the blade, and the colonel jerked with all of his strength, pulling the sword away and flinging it to the ground. A wind up, a swing, and the morning star came down on the helmet of the chieftain, spikes penetrating as the weight of the ball crushed the metal down. The lifeless body fell out of the saddle, leaving McGurk unengaged for some moments, able to check out the rest of the battle.

  The numbers game had definitely switched in his favor. More of his men were still in the saddle, while the many unoccupied horses of the enemy were on the run. Some barbarians were still fighting, several with multiple alliance soldiers swarming them. At one point a barbarian had struck a young American from his mount, and was leaning over to finish the job, when his horse bolted in panic. The wolves were still doing their job, sending blasts of mental energy into any beast whose rider was threatening their hominid friends.

  In minutes, the fight was over. McGurk had sustained casualties, around a hundred men, nowhere near the enemy losses of well over a thousand killed and wounded. Several thousand more were trying their best to hang on to panicked beasts that were carrying them to places they did not want to go. Though in the case of some, as long as they were carrying them out of the battle, it was fine with them.

  [General,] sent McGurk over mindspeak, using the wolves to boost the signal. [We met the nomad auxiliaries, and routed them, thanks to our four-footed friends.]

  [Great news,] sent back Delgado after a couple of moment's delay. The stress of the battle he had just survived came over the link. [Are there any more organized bodies of troops out that way?]

  [I don't think so. But as soon as we get our wounded tended and on their way back, I intend to do a sweep up to the Southern mountains.]

  [Don't take too many chances,] said the general. [We don't have any more cavalry to send out to support you.]

  The colonel looked down at the grinning canine that was trotting up to his mount. Thank God for the man that brought these guys along, he thought. [I wouldn't worry about that too much, general. No one is going to sneak anything past our wolves.]

  Epilogue

  "Are we ready to launch?" asked Earnst Grueber, walking out of the tent that was his office for this project.

  "We are, my Lord," answered one of the Ellala craftsmen who led the others on the work.

  Moored to the ground was a thirty-meter long balloon, much in the shape of an old zeppelin. The actual basket touched the ground, and several other baskets were attached to the frame, filled with the densest rocks they could find.

  Hydrogen on this world acted much like the gas on Earth, with the power to lift a small mass into the air based on its displacement of heavier gases. Hydrogen also burned with a fury here, just like on Earth. With fire breathing dragons in the sky, it was a risk to put up anything in the air with that kind of flammability.

  Helium, on the other hand, was also available, and in larger quantities than on Earth. It was also non-flammable, which made it a no-brainer as far as dragons were concerned. It actually had much greater lifting capacity compared to hydrogen than on Earth, something that made little sense. With the slightly lower gravity, it could actually haul three times more into the sky than on Earth. And in a land of magic, appearances could be deceiving. The human physicists and engineers, working hand in hand with the native-born mages, who had more knowledge of the art than the powerful natural mages that had come from Earth, experimented on various substances. Some were chemical compounds that had never been used here. Others were the Nobel gases: Argon, Neon, Krypton, and Helium. There were some spectacular effects with the heavier gases, lighting and pyrotechnics that rivaled the light of Neon tubes on Earth. With a little bit of magical kick-starting, they absorbed solar rays during the day and provided unending light at night. Krypton, though fairly rare, could actually store energy from the sun and return it as magical power. And then there was helium. When helium was charged with the proper magic, it created a lifting power almost ten times greater than hydrogen. A skilled mage on an airship could control the magic that flowed through that otherwise inert gas, and raise or lower the ship.

  Grueber still hoped someday for a train since they could carry much more cargo than any kind of airship. They had worked out a system that would get around the prohibitions of the earth gods for engines of any kind that didn't use wind or muscle. But they didn't have enough Mithril to waste on hundreds or thousands of kilometers of rails. They had experimented with using the Mithril in both rails and wheels. It had worked in the rails on the short piece of test track, but not with wheels. At least not in the proportions they had used. Until they could get enough, or work out a better manner of making the alloy, trains were a bust. The Gods of the Air seemed to have no problem with steam engines. Could that be because the engines used the expansion of water vapor to power them, and that kind of moisture was a major component of the atmosphere? It might, but no matter the reason, the priests seemed to feel that steam engines would work in the air.

  Hence, the Hindenburg, the test ship they were putting through the paces today. It was not really a working model. The designers would have to spend a lot more time on it before they had one anyone would trust outside the confines of this valley. It did have a working steam engine
, similar to the ones used on the riverboats, though just a bit smaller. It was inside the ship, with stacks leading out and to the sides, and a belt system connected to two small propellers. Everything would be larger on the working models, but Grueber had seen no need to put a lot of effort into something they weren't even sure was going to work.

  "Release her," ordered the engineer.

  The men on the guide ropes let them loose and the craft started to rise. The steam engine had been fired up and building pressure since the crew had come aboard and the mage had cast his spells. Grueber had wanted to be aboard this test flight, but General Taylor had forbidden it, and stationed enough men at the test site to make sure he didn't set foot on the balloon. Grueber could understand that the general didn't want to risk his engineering wizard, but he had still wanted to be aboard.

  The ship rose smoothly into the air, coming to a stop at fifty meters as the mage exerted his will on the lifting gas. A whistle sounded as they let steam through the mechanism, and then the props began to turn as the cylinders were also fed the pressure. With stately majesty the ship started to move forward, picking up speed until it was sailing through the sky at an even fifteen knots. After going forward for a couple of kilometers the rudders on the back swept to port, and the ship executed a perfect turn until it was heading toward them.

  "It works," shouted Grueber in joy. He knew that in principle it would. The question was whether some busybody god of this world would interfere. And they hadn't.

  "And the purpose of this thing?" asked one of the dwarves on the building crew, arms crossed and a frown across his face.

  "We'll be able to move large amounts of cargo through areas with no road nets," said the German engineer, putting his hands on the dwarf's shoulders.

  The short humanoid shook his head and walked away. The dwarf had worked on the project because he had been told to, but he typified so many of the people here. If something had worked for generations the way it was, why change it? People from Earth did not think that way, and though some technologies were no longer possible, there were others that the ingenious newcomers would improve on. Like the windmills downrange of the airship, slowly spinning and pumping ground water up to the surface.

  The people from Earth were already changing this world in so many ways. Would all of the changes be for the better? That remained to be seen, but one could certainly hope so.

  * * *

  "Is it ready?" asked the Half Litch Emperor, Ellandra Mashara, walking into the subbasement workshop.

  The gnome engineers bowed and nodded, as their leader walked forward with his eyes on the floor.

  "The first unit is ready, my Emperor," said the gnome in a trembling voice. His people were pragmatic, neither good nor evil. They worshiped the Gods of Law or Chaos equally, rival pantheons that were constantly at war with each other. That normally led to warfare and slaughter between the worshipers, but not with the gnomes. Gods were simply a small part of their lives. There was engineering and construction to keep them interested, and both Law and Chaos had a part in that process.

  Mashara followed the engineer into another chamber of the workshop, stopping and staring at the object standing in the middle of the room.

  "It certainly looks impressive," said the Emperor, looking up into the roughhewn face of the construct. It was at least four and a half meters tall, its blocky head almost scraping the ceiling. It was almost three meters wide at the shoulders, with a thick body, arms and legs. The skin had a metallic sheen, and wisps of steam rose from the obvious joints in the hard covering.

  "It's much stronger than a living being of the same size would be, your Majesty. And the Mithril infused into the alloy of the skin makes it almost invulnerable."

  "And you used the steam engine technology of the newcomers as well," stated the Emperor, walking up and putting a hand on one of the joints, withdrawing it quickly after the heat transferred into his hand.

  "We were able to incorporate steam cylinders like those of their machines into the internal workings of our golem," said the smiling engineer. He looked up at the Emperor with a twinkle in his eyes. "Would you like to see it in action?"

  "Yes," said the Emperor, moving back to the doorway and gesturing for his guards to stand between him and the golem. He doubted they would be able to stop it if something went wrong, but he did believe they would be able to slow it down long enough to get his precious hide to safety.

  The gnome said something in his native tongue and the construct came alive. The red jewels that were the eyes glowed with power, more steam puffed from the joints, and it started to move with the screeching creak of metal. It took two steps forward, the floor shaking from its tread, and then came to a stop at another word from the gnome.

  The gnome moved back to the side of the construct and pointed at a heavy stone block, made of the native granite of the local mountains. The creature turned, taking clumsy steps toward the block. The Emperor thought it slow and clumsy, and wondered if it was really the war-winning weapon he was hoping for. Then it raised its arms and brought twin fists down on the granite block, which shattered as the hardened alloy came down on it with the power of the steam in its body behind them.

  "Amazing," shouted the Emperor, almost passing his guards, then thinking better of it. "And you have more?"

  "We have three other units available, your Majesty. Two are prototypes that are not quite as powerful, though serviceable. And one is an exact duplicate of this unit."

  The Emperor nodded. His dragon force was almost completely destroyed, and his enemy even surpassed him in magical resources, as well as having warriors who were not affected by magic. These would be the most powerful machines on the battlefield since the demise of the tanks of the newcomers.

  "How are they affected by fire?"

  "Fire will actually heal any injuries they have, and replenish their energy, your Majesty."

  "Perfect," said the Emperor. "And how fast can you deliver more?"

  "With our present resources, we can construct about one every week. If we had more resources, more workmen, we could produce a greater number."

  "Then I will make sure you have more resources and workers. I want as many of these as you can make. And I want them to be attuned to my voice, so that they will follow me, and those I appoint over them.:

  Mashara imagined how these creatures would fight, especially if he had a score of them. He could visualize the infantry of the enemy trying to pour through a gate, and a pair of the Golems crushing them in their tracks. Or wading out in the river to come up under one of their new steamships and hole the hull, sending it to the bottom. Sure, the enemy might come up with a counter to these, especially once they knew they were possible. But that could take months, and he was sure to destroy a good portion of their army in that time. Things were looking bright again.

  "Keep me informed," he said, turning and walking from the room. He needed to recharge himself as well, and by this time his priests should have gathered the sacrifices he would need to build back up to where he had been prior to this battle. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Immortality would be his, the most pressing concern, and the golems would give him the time to achieve it.

  The End

  About the Refuge Series:

  Refuge was one of the first series I ever developed, and the third novel I ever wrote was set in this world. It was very long and not very good, so it won’t ever see the light of day. I restarted the series in 2007 when I wrote Doppelganger, hoping that I could sell it to a publisher and get the series moving again. No luck, and frankly they didn’t seem to get that it was set in an alternate dimension and combined Earth history with that of Refuge. I wrote Refuge: The Arrival in 2010, then split it into two books and self-published it. I thought it would be the breakout series. But no, that was Exodus: Empires at War.

  Frankly, I was about to give up on Refuge after book 3, but decided to do book 4. Then it was two years before I decided to go ahead with book
5, at the urging of a couple of fans. Basically, the series doesn’t do well enough to put the time into writing a bunch of books. Sad, because I really love the series, and would like to do more books. In fact, I had planned a series of twenty books at the beginning. Once the litch was gone, the new villain would arise, another immortal. But economics drives this business. I love writing, but I also love the lifestyle that writing brings, being my own boss and not having to go into an office and deal with mundane idiots every day. Both of the Exodus series do much better. So, I can write an Empires at War or Machine War book and make between $15,000 and $20,000 in their first year, or I can write a Refuge and make $3-4,000. Spending the same amount of time writing. Write five Exodus books a year and I live well. Write five Refuge books a year and I’m back in that office.

  Here is where I am going to approach the fans. If you really like this series, if you want more books, sell the idea of them to people you know. Talk them up in groups that talk about fantasy. I will be doing one more book, probably by next Christmas. After that, who knows. But that could possible be the last book in the series, and then I will move on to other ideas.

  Read the first three chapter of Theocracy: Book 1.

  Chapter One

  The stench of the battlefield was like all such. The smell of blood, of bowels loosed by death, of smoke and burnt flesh. The moans of the wounded, the screams of the dying, grated on the ears of the living, such as there were. Man and beast lay at unnatural angles, rents in armor, slashes on limbs, spears or arrows sticking into the air. As in all modern battles there were many whose only wound was a hole in head, chest or abdomen. On this battlefield there were many more of those holes, most made by weapons more advanced than those employed by the armies who had fought this day.