Chapter 14

The Southern Border or Stormblade Harbour

“Madre de Dios! I thought securing shore leave for a few weeks was supposed to be safer than being run ragged around Pandaemonium,” D-Ball cursed loudly.

Carlos couldn’t help but agree with his friend’s assessment.

A few minutes ago, one of the shield pylons had unexpectedly been toppled. Like a sore tooth pulled by a dentist, it popped out of the ground with an explosion of grassy sod in all directions on both sides of the shield. There had been a moment of shocked silence while all eyes focused on the shimmering of the energy field that protected them as it flickered and then reasserted itself.

The relief was short-lived. Even Carlos could see that the field was thinner and weaker than before. So, when a dozen mercenary ships with wheels attached to their hulls trundled down the road at rapid pace, he at least, hadn’t been surprised when they unleashed a volley of powerful weaponry that breached the field and allowed them to pour through.

“What miserable luck,” Tommy whispered. “Nothing for it, get ready to fight.”

The campaign in Pandaemonium had been on hold while Jackson helped the bossman sort things out topside. And being Jackson’s childhood friends could come in handy at times. Rather than be assigned to one of the groups holding the tunnel territory for the Shattered Storm, they’d been able to return to the surface and enjoy themselves for a bit.

The three of them and Carlos’ sister, Rosa, had been hanging out by the docks when the alarm bell sounded. All three along with every other member of the Militia and Legions present in the city had been drafted into the defence post-haste.

Commander MacDonald had shown up shortly after that and assigned them to this foxhole just to the side of the road where barriers had been hastily erected should the unthinkable happen.

Before the pylon fell, a few of the other groups had whined they were wasting their time reinforcing the area where the enemy had gathered outside when the shields would keep them out. Surely, the true danger would come from the ships out on the lake. That was for the ship crews to deal with, not landlubbers like themselves.

Carlos doubted they had any pouty-faced questions now.

“Brace for impact!” Commander MacDonald’s brave words carried on the wind to their foxhole dug into the earth.

Carlos refocused his attention and wrapped his fingers around the handle of a Mark I Dark Mana Pulse Cannon. Torin had been the recipient of a shipment of these via the Black Market a few weeks ago. The only drawback was that you needed an affinity for Dark Mana to use them. He’d been saving up Harmony points for a while; it had made sense to make use of them and take the Dark affinity.

“I’ve got the pulse cannon,” he roared unnecessarily. Alongside the pulse cannon was a traditional human piece of tech. “D-Ball fire the M2 but don’t waste the ammo on the vehicles. It won’t penetrate. Target the infantry.”

After the first dozen vehicles crossed the breach point in the shield, what looked like a thousand or more foot-troops had poured in after them before the shield integrity recovered. Outside the shield, a second group of ground soldiers were forming up and the next wave of ships was incoming, ready to punch through the weakened shield once more.

“Tommy, keep the M2 fed with ammo.”

Orders given, Carlos shifted the barrel of the cannon and used the sight to aim at the approaching land-ships and squeezed the trigger.

The shadowy projectile that zipped from the end of the barrel was but one of many projectiles fired in the direction of the invaders. And it had about as much efficacy. The thump of energy missed the wheel he was aiming at and gouged out a small chunk of asphalt from the road instead. Targets moving at speed were incredibly difficult to hit accurately.

The missed lead ship, the largest of the group, was a great hulking thing that had an imposing figurehead that looked like a weeping elephant smashed into the barriers with a frightening degree of kinetic force. Metal, wood, weapons and the bodies of defenders were thrown aside. The only upside was that the barrier did manage to arrest the velocity of the vessel which battered it down but didn’t stop it completely.

The closest ships fanned out rather than slow down and queue and contacted other parts of the defensive line.

The high decibel rat-a-tat-tat of the M2 went into overdrive as D-Ball opened fire on the approaching infantry. Carlos let rip with the pulse cannon and aimed at the vehicles following in the wake of the elephantine ship with a little more success. He and the other soldiers in the foxholes did cause three of them to ‘derail’ and crash onto their sides.

The thrum from the M2 was so loud Carlos barely heard the yell of “Fall back!” from somewhere behind him. “Fall back to Stormwarden!”

Neither D-Ball nor Tommy reacted to the ordered retreat. They couldn’t hear it over the din of battle. Their whole concentration was on keeping the infantry ahead of them pinned down.

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Carlos flicked a catch on the stand for the pulse cannon that would let him detach it and stow the weapon. There was no point leaving something this tasty for the enemy if it could be avoided. “D-Ball! Tommy! It’s time to move!”

Again, they didn’t hear, and it wasn’t until Carlos grabbed D-Ball’s shoulder and pointed behind them where you could see other groups in full retreat that the message sank in.

But by then it was too late.

The second wave of ships reached the outer shield and unleashed a volley of fire to bring it down. The weakened energy field crackled and blinked out quicker than the first time and several pieces of the fired ordnance whistled through unobstructed and kept going.

The cessation of the M2’s loud rattle was replaced by the high-pitched screech of an incoming, brightly coloured magical missile. Carlos didn’t even have time to shout a warning before it impacted the ground a few feet in front of their foxhole. The wooden roof that helped conceal the trench they were in was ripped off. The piled sandbags, gun emplacements, and front of the trench were torn apart as the strike left a sizeable crater in the earth where it struck.

All three of them were thrown back with intense force. Carlos’ head hit the back wall of the trench, moisture in the loam giving it a certain softness was the only thing that prevented his head from being caved in. He dropped bonelessly to the bottom of the trench momentarily stunned. Chunks of displaced soil thrown high into the air fell back to Earth and covered him, getting into his eyes and mouth.

Carlos’ ears rang with a high-pitched whine, and he had to blink repeatedly to try and brush the loose dirt from his eyelashes. Notifications dinged in his periphery; updates on how badly he’d been injured. He didn’t need them. The pain and disorientation told him everything he needed to know. His left knee was particularly bad, a jagged hunk of the M2 had become lodged in the side and made a horrible mess of the joint. He wouldn’t be able to put any weight on it until it was properly healed.

But the foxhole wasn’t very wide, and he could place both hands on either side to level himself up, albeit the front-facing wall of the foxhole had been halved in height which made things a bit trickier. It was enough that he could move and check on his companions. He found D-Ball first and wished he hadn’t.

The poor bastard had been in the middle and took the brunt of the blast. Half of his head was a bloody pulp. Carlos closed D-Ball’s one remaining eye and fought back the tears which threatened to pour from his own. “I’m sorry, my friend. I should have talked you out of this.”

A coughing fit from the corner grabbed his attention. “Tommy! Is that you, Tommy?”

“Yeah, dude, it’s me. I feel like I got hit by a fucking truck, but I’m good. How about you?”

Carlos didn’t answer him immediately. His body had healed the mild deafness from the attack and the baying screams of the charging infantry made themselves known. There was no time for pleasantries or mutual mourning. Tommy was a cleric and could heal his knee up. The spell was not instantaneous, though, it would delay his friend’s escape for too long. They would both be caught and killed.

Carlos’ eyes met his friends. He knew if he told him, Tommy would stay, would insist upon it.

He couldn’t know.

“Tommy, we’re about to be overrun. Get your ass moving and out of this foxhole. Keep running and don’t look back. D-Ball’s gone already, and I’ll be right behind you.” Carlos hated to lie to his friend but with any luck, he wouldn’t realise the enormity of the deception until he’d reached the safety of the Stormwarden’s Palace.

At Tommy’s end of the foxhole were a couple of ‘steps’ dug into the back wall that would help you get out. Tommy sprang up from the corner, the soil which covered him tumbling to the ground. The extra weight he used to carry had been worked off in the last year and he hopped out of the trench with ease and took off, head ducked.

Carlos of course, could not follow him. His knee wouldn’t allow it.

He pushed off his good leg, fell into the crater and crawled up to the lip before summoning the pulse cannon. There was a switch just above the trigger guard to switch the mode to rapid fire which he flicked. He took a bare second to steady his position and then squeezed the trigger and let loose with the rapid short bursts of mana at the oncoming mercenaries who were almost within spitting distance. This mode would deplete the mana reserves of the cannon very quickly, but then Carlos knew he wouldn’t need it for long.

The shadow darts slammed into the front rank of attackers at close range and several of them dropped, serious wounds rent into their bodies. It was enough to slow the advance along this part of the line and would give Tommy a bit of a head start.

However, shortly after laying down a wave of suppressing fire, the mana pack of the pulse cannon ran dry. The mercs seemed to sense the weakness immediately and resumed their charging advance. A big-bearded dwarf with two savage scars under his eyes was the first to reach the line of foxholes and kicked the pulse cannon from Carlos’ grip. This sent the young man tumbling back down into the trench where he landed beside the cooling body of his lifelong friend Diego.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go into the unknown alone did you, mi amigo,” he whispered to D-Ball and grasped his unresisting hand. “Tommy, you better look after my sister.” Not much of a war cry but it would do.

The last thing Carlos ever saw was the point of the pickaxe in the hands of the battle-maddened dwarf sapper leaping down on top of him.

***

Tommy stumbled out of the foxhole and ran in a funny stance keeping his head low. There were arrows, bolts, and magical effects zipping back and forth across the battlefield. He started to sprint in the direction of the palace and could see that his group trailed most of the others. A few other foxholes across the line continued to fight but most had been abandoned.

“That was a close one, eh, Carlos?” he grunted as he ran referring to the explosion that tore their emplacement apart but received no answer.

“Carlos?”

That was when Tommy heard the pulse cannon fire. The blood drained from his face, and he risked a glance behind. Carlos was not behind him, and he hadn’t left the foxhole. He could just about see the back of his friend’s head as he let loose another volley of fire into the approaching enemy. There had been no sign of D-Ball ahead, he wouldn’t have left his two friends in the dust like that.

He would have waited.

D-Ball didn’t make it out either.

As reality started to set in, Tommy stutter-stepped and almost fell to the ground.

He was torn. Part of him wanted to run back and help his friend. Felt that it was the act of a coward to run away. Another part knew that Carlos had sacrificed himself to provide this chance for him to get away. It would be a meaningless waste if he threw that chance away by acting out of shame.

The decision was made for him when an arrow grazed his temple.

Carlos had slowed the advance in an arc around their foxhole, but that didn’t stop those on either side. Enemy soldiers further away had almost drawn level with Tommy. Not to mention the wheeled ships were already powering ahead.

If Commander MacDonald hadn’t taken steps to inhibit them from making further progress it would already be too late.

Tommy turned away from where his friend fought on his behalf and ran for friendly lines. Carlos and D-Ball could only be avenged by the living.