Terry W. Ervin (12 page)

Wizard Seelain was one of the few watching the morning sky. I adjusted my helmet and surveyed the enemy. The zombies stood lifelessly in the forefront less than two hundred yards away while ogres cursed and shoved confused goblin squads into place. In the cloudless sky, well above the prince and his serpent cavalry, the Stukas circled.

Wizard Seelain said to me, “You worry about the enemy out there.” She whispered an incantation and touched the quarrel in my cocked crossbow. “Select an enemy, aim without consideration for wind or distance.” She then rolled onto her back to better observe the aerial formations.

Fortunately, I’d loaded one of the Algaan blessed quarrels. I scanned the enemy, considering an ogre, then one of the souled zombies guiding a tank. But Wizard Seelain said distance wasn’t a factor. I shook my head and looked further, into the shadows along the edge of the woods.

Without warning, panzer cannons barked. Their explosive shells slammed into the earth barrier sheltering us. Wizard Golt dug his hands into the dirt and chanted. The barking chatter of enemy machine guns raking the top of our line drowned out his voice. Archers and crossbowmen fell back. Some dead, others clutching bloodied faces.

I ignored them and the enemy fire, and spotted movement next to a large tree, a distant oak. The man held a dark staff aloft. I adjusted my crossbow, ignoring distance and wind, before calmly compressing the trigger. A gentle puff of air accompanied the familiar twang. The quarrel ran straight and true, striking what I’d guessed to be a necromancer in the chest. He fell with my quarrel in his heart.

In the center nearly a third of the charging zombies slowed, then stopped. The tanks still advanced, firing cannon and machine gun. Not until the panzers had run down dozens of zombies and the goblins among them did the stalled undead again shamble forward.

I retreated several feet down the defensive mound. Road Toad shouted, “Flank Hawk, wise shot! You broke their momentum in the center.”

Enemy artillery shells began to rain down hundreds of yards beyond the front line, near the center of camp. I hoped there wasn’t anyone in the prince’s or the healers’ pavilions as they appeared to be the target.

The enemy’s panzer fire faltered. I looked over the edge of the mound and spotted eight earth elementals. The massive rock and soil behemoths had risen from the earth to attack the panzers. The largest one had wedged its shoulder under one of the tanks and struggled to tip the battlewagon onto its side. Two harnessed earth spirits grasped the muzzles of the panzer cannons and bent them so they aimed at the ground. The remaining smaller earth elementals tore at panzer wheels and tracks.

Even as the summoned earth creatures assaulted the metal battlewagons, the souled zombies trained devastating machine gun fire on them. Heedless of the fire, the mundane zombies turned and grappled with the earth elementals, tearing chunks from them.

Like screaming banshees, the Stukas dove. What they might do, I wasn’t sure. They came down at us in groups of three with frightening speed. The serpent cavalrymen tried to intercept but they’d misjudged the enemy’s speed. At around 2000 feet the first three Stukas each released an oblong object from its belly before pulling up to level out from their dive.

Wizard Seelain chanted and thrust her staff skyward. The tail of a retreating dive-bomber whipped forward, sending it tumbling out of control. A second tipped on its side before cartwheeling and clipped the wing of the third. The trio exploded into fiery balls before crashing.

Nearby, explosions that dwarfed those of artillery rocked the ground. The blasts’ concussions set my ears ringing and rained debris down on us. I brushed off dirt clods.

A second trio of Stukas released their load on our left flank. Air wizards sent two of them spiraling earthward, out of control. But even their fiery explosive end killed defenders. Two red dragons each caught a diving Stuka in the third diving trio with their flaming breath.

Keeseean archers and crossbowmen began firing on the advancing enemy. I reloaded my crossbow and took a zombie in the throat before it heaved one end of a long plank across the trench. One of Road Toad’s javelins dropped another as it loped across another spanning plank.

Two surviving panzers fired both cannon and machine guns at the defenders near the center even as a crumbling earth elemental slammed a boulder down on the tank’s souled zombie commander.

I loosed a final quarrel before slinging my crossbow. Grasping my spear, I took a steadying breath to steel myself for the undead onslaught. They’d reach the base of the mound in a matter of seconds.

Sounds of battle returned as the ringing in my ears faded. Wizard Golt still held his hands to the ground, chanting. Wizard Seelain pointed her staff toward another diving Stuka trio. Already the dragons and Stukas swirled, banked and spun in a wild aerial melee. The dragons, especially the blacks, were more maneuverable in their turns but far slower. Their breath, claws, and jaws, were inadequate against wing-mounted machine guns and rear-facing tail gunners. While serpent hides could turn a stout blade, the machine gun’s firepower bit deeply wherever it struck.

Road Toad stood, waving his sword along with the surviving officers and sergeants. “Stand to battle!” he shouted.

“Throw them back!” urged a lanky captain before hewing a foremost zombie with his battle axe. “For Prince Reveron!”

A roar of defiance rose. Men who’d clung to the ground surged to meet the enemy and I with them. I fought by Road Toad’s side. With kicks and spear thrusts I knocked zombies back upon their brethren. Road Toad’s sword flashed as it severed arms and decapitated heads.

Our line was thin and each moment the enemy’s swelling mass threatened to overwhelm us. The mound appeared to sink as the enemy stood upon those we slew before them. To our right zombies breached the line where seconds before a Stuka’s bomb blast had smashed the earth and nearby soldiers. I wondered if Grand Wizard Seelain would think to flee when we fell.

I slammed the haft of my spear into a one-armed zombie before it reached my throat. It stumbled into one that Road Toad held at bay with his shield. Both zombies stumbled backwards, head over heels. With a low slash Road Toad severed his next foe’s right leg below the knee. As the animated corpse fell sideways, Road Toad caught its remaining arm with a return slash. He failed to sever it completely, leaving it to dangle uselessly. Before Road Toad could take a breath, a fresh zombie shoved the crippled one aside and stood with arms outreached. Road Toad blocked its clumsy attack with his shield and chopped down, taking off a left foot. Like me, Road Toad was tiring. He was slow in raising his sword and suffered a glancing blow off his helmet before decapitating the hobbled zombie.

Short Two Blades slashed and hacked with his falchion while parrying with a hunting knife in his off hand. Short mistimed a cut and a zombie got past his guard and clamped a rotting hand onto the mercenary’s throat. He hacked in desperation with the curved falchion, severing the arm at the elbow.

I ducked my attacker and rammed my spear into Short’s foe, sending it back down the mound. Short dropped his dagger and pulled at the severed hand choking him. Wild fear showed in Short’s eyes as he swung his falchion wildly, almost striking Pops Weasel.

I tugged at the strings of my pouch and grabbed a handful of salt. I shouldered a fresh zombie in front of me, knocking it into Short’s flailing blade. The mercenary staggered back with eyes bulging. With my salt-filled hand I grabbed onto the end of the severed limb that was squeezing the life out of the mercenary. It flexed at the agony salt inflicts on the undead. Gasping for breath but still alive, Short flung the stiff hand aside.

I didn’t wait to see what he did next. My absence had left Road Toad in the lurch. The infantryman on my comrade’s left had been pulled into the mass of undead below. Road Toad fought desperately as one zombie tore his shield away and another latched onto his sword arm.

Screaming, I charged forward and ran my spear through the zombie that held his shield. I yanked my weapon out and exposed my side to the enemy. The maneuver enabled me to swing the broad blade of my spear and sever the head of the zombie that held onto Road Toad’s sword arm. I again reached into my pouch and slammed a fist full of salt into the spot where the zombie’s head had been.

“DOWN, KRISH!” cried Road Toad.

I ducked. Road Toad’s sword cut just over my head, severing a zombie’s arm and clipping off part of its scalp.

Pops Weasel slipped on the gore spread beneath him and fell to one knee. “We’re done fer!” he yelled, stabbing at a zombie scrambling up the mound.

Pops was right. Wiley goblins now darted among the zombies, stabbing with long, curved daggers and short spears.

“No we’re not!” replied Wizard Seelain.

A shadow from above swept by, breathing fire. Goblins just beyond the trench line screamed as flames consumed them. Zombies staggered like walking pyres before falling. The heat of the flames touched my skin, singeing my eyelashes. Our swords and spears made quick work of the few goblins and zombies that were close enough to us to survive the fire.

Even as the dragon pulled up, banking away, two trailing Stukas with blazing machine guns overtook it. The concentrated firepower shredded wings and tore flesh. The great beast staggered in mid flight, roaring in stunned agony. Its two riders hung lifeless in their saddle while the mortally wounded serpent beat its tattered wings to stay aloft. A third Stuka swept in from the east and, with a few short bursts, sent the red dragon plummeting to the ground.

The order, “Fire!” preceded a crackling blast. Concentrated Crusader firepower targeted the third Stuka. The speeding diver-bomber fled the battle field trailing smoke.

A growling roar announced two more Stukas had lined up to make a strafing pass on us. Every soldier, including the Crusaders, scattered and dove for cover. Only Wizard Golt stood defiant.

Pops tried to pull him down, but the wizard kicked the old mercenary away. Wizard Seelain ran up behind Golt. I looked to Road Toad. He yelled for them to take cover to no avail. My heart sank, anticipating failure. There was nothing I could do against a Stuka. Road Toad met my glance and then watched the wizards making a stand atop the mound.

Wizard Seelain pointed her staff. A small thunderclap sounded and one of the Stukas staggered in flight. The pilot managed to regain control before a second, smaller thunder-pop crumpled the dive-bomber’s tail. The damaged Stuka pulled up, gyrating wildly as it climbed.

The second dive-bomber opened up. Its wings sparkled and columns of spouting dirt raced toward the wizards. Wherever the dirt columns crossed a prone soldier, the man shuddered and died.

Ninety feet before the gunfire reached the wizards, Golt bent down, touched the ground and thrust his hands skyward. A dirt wall raced upward in response. The barrier absorbed the machine gun fire and the Stuka shot away in an arcing curve and didn’t return.

Realizing I’d survived my first major engagement, I looked about. Hardly a third of the original defenders remained. I climbed the mound and looked across the field, preparing for goblins backed by ogres. But they’d turned their line just in time to meet the charge of the prince’s horse cavalry.

“Colonel Shenden will engage then break contact,” said Road Toad, who stood next to me. “Without supporting infantry, against ogres and goblins they’d be slaughtered.”

A ragged rain of goblin arrows fell among the charging cavalry line. Several horses and knights fell. The ogres hurled small boulders taking a few more, but without the firepower of the panzers, the cavalry was able to close.

The clash was short, less than twenty seconds. The ogres and goblins held but suffered greatly. A third of the one hundred fifty knights fell to ogre clubs and goblin blades. Still, less than three dozen ogres had survived the charge.

“Look there,” I said, pointing to the woods.

To my right, Pops Weasel spat. “A third wave formin’.” He scrunched his face and wiped a forearm across his nose.

“Is that the prince?” Road Toad asked Wizard Seelain. Concern hung heavy in his voice.

I turned my gaze skyward.

Her voice cracked. “It is.” She leaned on her staff. “And I am spent.” A tear ran down the side of her cheek. Wizard Golt stepped up and put an arm around the air wizard.

“They’re formin’ up,” warned Pops Weasel. A surviving Keeseean captain ordered the bugler to call formation assembly, but we ignored it and watched the cat-and-mouse game.

Harried as if by hornets, the prince on Night Shard circled frantically. Diving and turning, then climbing he sought to out maneuver and escape the six Stukas.

“They’re toying with him,” said Road Toad. “Night Shard is nearing the end of his strength.”

“I failed to warn him,” said Wizard Seelain. Recrimination tangled with saddening fear hung in her voice. Then it hardened. “Necromancer King, Ancient Dictator, you will pay.”

Just as she finished her statement, Prince Reveron leapt from his mount. Even as he fell, Night Shard broke from the swarm and fled. Three of the Stukas chased after the dragon.

“Did the prince wear a parachute?” I asked.

“If his air wizard ego didn’t override common sense,” answered Road Toad.

Without a word Wizard Seelain leapt forward and waded down through the fallen and charred enemy. She angled for one of the three spanning planks that had survived the dragon’s breath. Road Toad ran after her. I followed.