Smythe sipped at a whiskey as the Professor briefed all of those present. It felt more than good to be back in earth-born held lands and especially good to be back in the Sanction headquarters. He shifted, trying to make sure he stayed awake. Despite having been back in the Club for a couple of days – during which he had slept most of the time – he was still bone-tired.
“As you know, a watch has been placed on Lord Miles. There could be no action taken against such a well-respect and high visibility hero of the Empire until we had the opportunity to speak to his man ourselves. It appears that Her Majesty’s Government won’t believe the sole testimony of a Vampyre High Lord.”
Smythe joined in with the laughter, it felt good to laugh, to smile, to know that for the while he was safe and would not be required to lay his life on the line.
Dextor waiting for the laughter to die down before continuing, “Without the use of torture, we have been able to corroborate the Vampyre’s story. We did have to give Calders a slight incentive, that is, he will be allowed to live with his family under house arrest. Not that he has long to live, we believe that the geas has done irreparable damage.”
A few of those present, including Smythe, rapped on the table. Every one of them was a staunch believer in the Empire, knowing that if it was allowed to fall the Horde would sweep the English aside with ease. With that in mind, the death of a traitor was always seen as a victory.
Dextor took a sip of his own whisky before continuing, “As you all know, Lord Miles has extensive estates close to the south coast and the Curtain. When we move against him, it will have to be swift and decisive. There can be no room for error and no room for doubt. This is a Peer of the Realm that we are arresting, a hero of the British Empire. The Queen herself has been informed of this operation, and has promised that we can have every asset possible at our disposal to capture him. Her Majesty is very interested in this operation, and has requested that we keep her informed of all developments. The way I understand it, she’s as keen as us to see him dead. After a fair trial of course.”
More laughter rang out. The thought that a traitor as famous as Lord Miles would ever be put on trial was preposterous. He would not even get to see the inside of a prison before he was executed.
“As you can see from the number of people in the room, we’re going in mob-handed. We do not expect this man to come quietly. He is one of the most powerful aethermancers there are, and a veteran of the Knights Aether as well.”
Smythe glanced over at Von Adin to see how he received that news, bar a pursing of the lips, Von Adin seemed to take the whole thing in his stride.
“We have to assume that everyone in his employ on the estate is corrupted, and that includes his personal guard of ten men-at-arms and, unfortunately, the members of the 5th Curtain Rifles, the 9th Armoured Horseless and the ironically named RAS ship Royal Protector. All of these units have been deployed under Lord Miles for at least five years. He founded the 5th Curtains himself, and most of the officer cadre was picked by him or by those picked by him.”
He paused as whispers rustled through the chambers, Smythe could sympathise, he too felt distinctly uncomfortable at having to treat two entire regiments as hostile.
“Thankfully, we are not facing the entirety of the two regiments. At most there are two companies of the fifth, and one of the ninth that is compose of twelve armoured horseless. The other elements of the regiments have been deployed throughout the country. They will be dealt with by other regiments at the same time we make our move.”
“The RAS has been tasked to provide us with twelve ships of the line, including the flagship Ark Royal, our newest flat top. They believe that we are mounting an attack beyond the Curtain, and will only be made aware of the true destination en route.”
Smythe chuckled to himself as he thought of what the Captains of those ships would say when their true objective was revealed. He was certain that none of it would be considered polite.
“The ground units will consist of three companies from the Grenadier Guards, a company from the Parachutists, a mobile battery of the Royal Artillery, a company of the 1st Motorcyclists and a number of our brothers from the Knights Aether.”
Von Adin exclaimed with delight, returning the smile that Smythe shot him.
“Some of you may think that this is slightly overdoing things. We cannot afford for this insurrection to succeed. Lord Miles is the greatest threat to the Empire and mankind since the gates opened.
We are only aware of the composition his earth-born assets. However we know so far that he has subjugated Ghouls, Gargoyles, Grotesques, Vampyres, Slavs and Changelings. All of these are dangerous enough on their own. Combined they are a deadly statement of intent.
All of you will be assigned to a unit. We are spreading our forces between the various units because we can’t be sure which will capture Lord Miles.
Cells one through five will be our surgeon’s cut.” Smythe leaned forward, this was exactly what he had requested from the Professor and it looked as if their hard work was going to be rewarded.
“You will be assigned to the 1st Motorcyclists. This is their first major action. Their speed is their greatest asset. Whilst airships are fast they are easy to spot and tie-up in combat. No other unit can move as swiftly or flow around trouble as the Motorcyclists.”
Smythe pounded his thigh in excitement and grinned over at the others. They too were obviously just as excited to learn that they were going to get their hands on the army’s newest acquisition.
*
Smythe could not believe that it had taken them nearly five hours to get to their starting point and find their liaison. He watched as chap came over and stood to attention, returning his salute.
“Second Lieutenant Pondersby, 1st Motorcylists, sir. Absolutely top job to serve with you, really rather excited about this!” Pondersby was dressed in the strange looking uniform of the Motorcylists. A black soft driving cap sat on his head, the brim turned jauntily to the side, goggles resting on his forehead. He wore a short double-breasted black leather sheepskin jacket, tight cavalry bottoms and knee high boots. He twisted his pencil thin moustache in what he obviously thought was a dashing manner and gave Lady Ashdown a more than obvious twice-over. “Spiffing, top-notch.” He muttered, unaware of the glare that Smythe was shooting at him.
Smythe rolled his shoulders then wandered over to look at the motorcycle and sidecar. A rifle case jutted up from the side of the motorcycle and mounted on the side carriage was a Maxim gun.
“She’s a beauty isn’t she! Forty miles per hour on the roads, and twenty across country. Nothing can keep up with her, nothing I say!” Pondersby slapped the saddle of the motorcycle as if it was a horse, Smythe completely understood as most of the officer cadre of the motorcyclists had been recruited from cavalry units.
Smythe mumbled something he hoped sounded positive and looked over at Lady Ashdown and the others. Jealously he looked at their grim-looking and serious partners, men who were grounded, of common and therefore sensible stock, and who did not grow ridiculous moustaches because they though it made them dashing. The smiles on his friends’ faces showed he was not going to be able to swap with them. Even Gubbins gently shook his head and turned away to speak to the Sergeant assigned to him when Smythe raised an eyebrow and gestured a swap with his hand.
“Of course, I’ll be doing all the driving. You can sit back and enjoy the ride and use the Maxim on anyone stupid enough to get in the way.” Pondersby slapped the machine gun, smiled, and twirled his moustache again.
Smythe sighed in resignation and clambered in to the side-carriage. Despite being annoyed by Pondersby, he still felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of doing forty miles per hour. Hardly anything on land bar trains goes faster than that. His arse was only inches from the ground so he knew that forty miles per hour was going to feel like a lot more.
*
Just how much more was hammered home when whisper to attack came through. I feel like I’m flying inches off the ground! Smythe gripped the front hand rail with white knuckles and let out a whoop of pure joy. I never thought I would find anything to replace the thrill of leaping. How wrong I was!
He looked over at Pondersby and saw that he was laughing like a madman, leaning forward to get better flow streams, egging the bike to go faster, rocking back and forth and shouting what sounded like “Gee up girl!”
The bike hurtled down the lane towards the estate gates. Above them, the sky suddenly lit up as the RAS ships above them dropped huge flares, lighting up the ground below but also hiding the Parachutists from the view of those on the ground as they jumped.
At last, the gates of the estate came into view. Men milled around looking up at the flares, turning at the sound of the motorcycles they turned, some bringing up their rifles, others staring. Smythe could not afford to give them a chance to recover. He laid the sights of the Maxim in the ground just in front of them, closed the non-aiming eye and fired, walking the rounds along the ground and into their ranks.
The bullets caused absolute mayhem. Men screamed as bullet after bullet hammered into them, destroying legs, arms, chests, heads. Even as they were cut down, one managed to launch a red flare into the sky. Smythe flinched as a bullet cracked past his head as a couple of those still standing fired wildly. He stitched rounds across them, blowing bloody chunks off their bodies.
He let out a shout as there was a sudden bump, his side-carriage hitting one of the bodies, leaping into the air and causing the bike to start to tip over to the side.
“Hold on! Lean away from me!” Pondersby was grinning like the Cheshire cat as he steered the motorcycle along on two wheels, Smythe almost above him they were so tipped over. With a quick flick on the handlebars Pondersby righted the bike, Smythe’s teeth coaching together as the wheel on the side-carriage slammed into the ground. His heart in his mouth, silently cursed Pondersby for not avoiding the obstacle.
As soon as they were through Pondersby took them off the driveway and onto the wide grassy area. The other Motorcyclists did the same until they were stretched out in a parallel line. Lights twinkled ahead of them, and Smythe frowned Sprite lights? What the hell are those things? the answer became clear as the lights suddenly zipped past his ear. Tracing shots!
There was a dull thump and a flash of orange light as a motorcycle was hit in the fuel tank. The burning fuel showered the crew, setting everything it touched alight. Ablaze, it started to careen left and right, the crew screaming out their agony. Mercifully, the front wheel twisted too far, catching the edge. It flipped completely off the ground, did a half turn and then came crashing down, crushing the men into the ground with deadly finality.
All along the line motor-gunners returned fire, aiming in the general direction of the enemy positions. Smythe knew they weren’t aiming to kill at this range, but to suppress, trying to put enough rounds close to the enemy in order to force them to take cover and therefore stop firing.
More of the motorcycles were and at a hand signal from Pondersby which was passed down the line they started to break formation, zigzagging.
Oh how the other half live! The main house still hadn’t come in to view, and they were approaching one of the estate villages. Lights flashed both outwards and towards and Smythe realised that the Parachutists were down on the ground.
He ran through his mental notes. The plan had involved a three-pronged attack. From the air would come the Parachutists, the Motorcyclists had been tasked with the main entrance and the long meandering drive to the house and the main - and much slower elements of the force - had been tasked with the shorter and more heavily defended rear drive.
The role of the Parachutists was to cause confusion and tie up elements of the enemy forces in local defence actions, preventing them from being able to co-ordinate their responses as part of a larger strategy.
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The heavier force was also to act as a diversion for the Motorcyclists, allowing them to get in close as quickly as possible and against little opposition.
Relief flooded through him as he realised that the ruse seemed to have worked. The resistance that they were encountering seemed to be much lighter than the fighting on the other side. Great flashes lit the sky and anti-flight fire shrapnel rained down.
At last thought Smythe as the house finally came into view and a section of the Motorcyclists stopped, pouring Maxim fire into every window they could see. Aethermancers added bolts of lightning, fireballs and earthquakes. I almost pity the fools fighting us, thought Smythe as Pondersby jinked the motorcycle left and right.
They careened to a stop near to a small servant’s door. Smythe fired a three second burst at the door and the wall. Armour piercing rounds should easily punch through the bricks to either side, and kill any bastard waiting for us.
Troopers ran forward and lined up against the wall. Another burst was put through, and then a shrapnel flung into the room beyond. No sooner had it detonated than the troopers ran through. There was a couple of seconds of silence, then a trooper stuck his head out and gave the thumbs up. “All clear boss, Major Smythe did for them with his Maxim.”
“Splendid show sir! You’re a rum cove! Handy man to have around!” Pondersby slapped Smythe on the back, dismounted and ran over to the door, slipping through it. When Smythe caught up, having had trouble with extricating himself from the side car he found Pondersby giving his troopers a quick briefing.
“Right chaps. Sections two and three have made it to their entry points as well. Major Smythe’s companions are with them and are safe. We’re piggy in the middle so to speak. Time to link up with them and search the house. We’ll split into two, Major Smythe will stick with me, Sergeant Green to lead the others. Sound good to you sir?” At Smythe’s nod, they set off.
The house rocked in time with the explosions outside, lamps jingling and chiming. Dim shouts could be heard throughout the house but there was not a sound close to them. A shadow moved, barely a blur and a trooper was smashed to the ground, his head disappearing into what was left of his body like a turtle hiding in its shell. Smythe spun trying to track the target.
“Close ranks, close ranks!” He bellowed the warning as he realised that they were on much bigger room than he had thought. Flashes from the trooper’s rifles outlined the target. A gauntleted hand came towards him, Oh bollocks!
*
Lady Ashdown had enjoyed her ride on the motorcycle and she struggled to keep her breathing steady as she poured a stream of aether into their entry point. Screams rang out, cutting off suddenly as she pulsed the strength. Troopers ran forward and poked their heads into the room. One immediately turned, vomit spewing from his mouth like aether from a Draco.
“Looks like the room’s clear malady”. Gubbins reached out and helped her from the side-carriage with as much dignity as possible.
Yet another un-lady like thing to be doing no doubt, she thought, thanking God that she was not wearing some ridiculous dress, even a riding dress.
The inside of the room was a charnel house. She had combined her aether attack. The first stream had used the metal on each defender to chain them together, then sent the pulse down and burst the men. A pair of upright boots in the middle of the room had the remains of legs sticking out of them. The owner was indistinguishable from the rest of the lumps of flesh that was plastered to everything else in the room.
“Good, move on through if you will please gentlemen,” she made shooing gestures with her hands at the pale-faced trooper who were looking at her with more than a little awe on their faces.
The sound of the trooper vomiting was still coming from outside as she led the troopers through what seemed to be the kitchens and food storage rooms. All was silent. Too silent for her liking, not even the sound of fighting from outside could be heard. It was also very chilly in the room.
“Ambush!” she Pulled as hard as she could, harder than she ever had and heard the flagstones under her feet crack with the sudden cold.
Shadows leapt forward, changing into humanoid shapes that moved with deadly grace. Swords flashed and blood sprayed as she saw the first of the troopers cut from collarbone to navel. His killer pirouetted, sweeping the feet out from another before flashing the blade down onto his throat. She unleashed a stream, cursing as it missed and struck an old suit of armour, melting the centuries-old metal in seconds.
The troopers frantically opened fire, working the bolts on their rifles as fast as they could. There was no time to shoulder the weapons and take proper aim, they just fired from the hip. She watched helplessly as one of the troopers raised his rifle double handed above his head to block a downward strike. The blade barely paused as it cut through the barrel and thick wood of the weapon before cleaving the man’s head cleanly in two. She Pushed another stream and missed yet again.
The shapes were just too fast for the troopers to shoot them and panic started to settle in. Realising that she had to take back the initiative she Pushed the aether out, shielding herself and slowing time down.
Finally, she could see what she was up against. She immediately recognised them as Fey Warriors of the Black Rose, assassins named after the deadliest aether-born roses. Loose black clothing swirled about them, blurring their outlines even further and making them appear to be even larger than they were. She drew her knife knowing that to use aether directly against them would be useless. She released more aether and sent a bolt to distract the furthest one.
She watched as the nearest one thrust towards another of the troopers, as soon as his lead foot stamped onto the floor she moved. The knife whipped out of her hand as the tip of his sword ripped its way through the back of his leather jacket. With his blade in the trooper, the Fey was unable to block the knife. It sank, hilt deep into his chest and he collapsed to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
A blur out of the corner of her eye was the only warning she had. All she had time for was a quick body shift and she hissed in pain as the knife-sharp blade scored its way across her ribs, rivers of pain lancing through her.
Gubbins shoulder-barged the Fey aside, receiving a stunning blow to the face with the hilt. He reeled backward clutching at the gash that had opened up, his actions causing all the distraction she needed.
She Pulled and pushed as fast as she could, blasting the ground beneath the Fey and sending it flying through the air. Even taken by surprise it was able to turn its headlong flight into a graceful somersault. Landing in front of another trooper it whipped its sword back and forth, spilling the trooper’s steaming guts into the floor. His victim wailed and collapsed, desperately trying to push his stomach back into his body whilst crying for his mother.
“Damn you!” Lady Ashdown lashed out with the only weapon that had come to hand, having followed the Fey as it flew through the air. There was the sound of a breaking egg as the heavy copper skillet smashed in the back of its head, causing its eyes to bulge grotesquely.
All was silent bar panting and the whimpering of the gutted soldier. Lady Ashdown dashed to his side and, ignoring his screams of pain, quickly shoved his guts back into place after ensuring that they had not been damaged as well. Pouring aether into him, she healed him as fast as she could.
She called over to the troopers still standing, “He’s going to be too weak to be of any help, one of you take him back. The rest of you, police the weapons and pet tags of your comrades, we move on in five minutes. Come here Gubbins, I’ll heal you.”
*
Von Adin crept slowly through the house with the three troopers that were still capable of moving. Fey warriors had killed nine troopers within the first minute of entry. Only pure luck had saved them: one of the troopers had a Shot-Revolver, an eight-barrelled shotgun that could be fired rapidly. The trooper had fired all eight rounds in a spread pattern, slowing the Fey long enough for Von Adin to kill one with his glove and for the remaining troopers to shoot down the other.
They heard shouts and shots ringing out on both flanks and, perversely, Vin Adin breathed a sigh of relief Thank God We’re not the only ones left alive. They found some servants stairs and made their way up, pausing ever so often, desperate not to be ambushed like that again. Silence.
Moving up into the corridor at the top of the stairs they heard shouting, a mix of Slavic and English coming from their right.
“Quick, we’ll cut them down as soon as they enter this corridor. One of the troopers dropped to the floor, taking up a prone position whilst the other two knelt behind him. Behind them, Von Adin readied his pistol and pumped his arm to make sure he had a good charge.
The owners of the voices round the corner at the bottom of the corridor. Such was their pace that it took a couple of seconds before they realised what was in front of them. Even as they tried to stop, Von Adin shouted “Feuer!” At such a short range the .303 calibre bullet had tremendous killing and penetration power, each bullet going clean through the front runners and into their colleagues before they even had a chance to realise that something was up.
The second volley was just as deadly, scything through the remaining enemy as if they were blades of grass.
“Move” Von Adin ran over the bodies, ignoring the raised hands that reached towards him, pleading for help. Noise like that is going to draw a lot of attention.
*
Smythe very nearly pissed himself as he realised what he was facing. A troll, a fucking goat-eating troll!
“Smash!” roared the troll as another trooper was crushed by the troll’s super-human strength, the force literally squeezing his guts out through his mouth.
“Spread out, lads! Keep it at a distance and shoot the fucking thing as much as possible!” he followed his own advice, frantically back-peddling whilst firing his Mauser as fast as he could pull the trigger. Holes appeared in the troll’s thick skin but his bullets might as well have been gnats for all the damage they were doing.
The troll roared in anger as the larger calibre rifles opened up, the troopers constantly moving to keep away from the monster. It roared again as a desperate Smythe flung the empty Mauser into its face.
Raising the Maverick he squeezed six shots off rapidly, wincing at the kick. Knocking the chamber completely out he slammed in another, this time with shotgun rounds that had three 9pm rounds in them.
The troll loomed ever closer and Smythe continued to push himself back, wincing as he slammed into the wall, knocking his head painfully. Roaring back in fear in unloaded the revolver in record time, sending the shots straight into the troll’s gaping mouth. A glaring blow sent him reeling as he barely managed to slip a punch.
“Shrapnel!” Shouted one of the troopers. The heart-stopping sound of a shrapnel lever landing at his feet sent Smythe into a desperate roll as the shrapnel itself flew through the air, hit the troll in the face and bounced off.
An almost comical look of surprise crossed its face as it leant forward to see what had hit it. The resulting explosion blew the head into tiny little prices. Slowly but with gathering pace the body toppled forward, slamming into and through a butcher’s table.
“You complete, utter fucking idiot! Why didn’t you wait until I was clear?” Smythe was not quite sure how he had managed to cross room and grab the trooper by the throat so fast.
“But sir, I still killed it!” choked the trooper, his eyes wide.
Smythe sighed and released him, smoothing the man’s lapels, “Aye, that you did lad, that you did.”
*
Lady Ashdown could not believe their luck. The moment that the three sections met up almost ended tragically. So keyed up they could barely hold a rifle steady, the lead elements had opened fire without thought upon seeing each other. Fortunately, the only casualties were the fine plasterwork and a particularly good example of early Ming pottery.
The relief at meeting each other was palpable, with much back slapping, hugging and even the odd tear on Von Adin’s behalf, which she found oddly touching.
Smythe had ordered that they divvy up the ammunition they had left between them, and take time to have water and a quick bite to eat, more to restore energy and calm down than because they were hungry.
Just how big is this house? Lady Ashdown had never been in a dwelling so large. Even now the fighting at the front was muted, although it seemed to her that it was somewhat closer. No whisper had been forthcoming so she had set her own more than ten minutes before. Still no answer.
“From what I remember of the plans, the Great Hall should be through here,” She looked over at Von Adin and saw he was pointing at a door to their left. “from there we should be able to follow the stairs up into the main residence. Most of the family rooms are up there.” He gestured towards Lady Ashdown and then at the door, “If my lady would be so kind?”
The remains of the door flew across the hall in a hurricane of splinters, cutting down the enemy troops waiting there like a bowling ball through pins. Lady Ashdown smiled in satisfaction as the Sanction force followed quickly on the heels of this and the shrapnels they threw through. The explosions and storm of metal killed and injured even more, with the following aether and bullets finishing off those still standing. All bar one that was.
That one stood firm in the face of everything, not moving an inch as all around it died. It stood, head bowed, sword point down, both hands resting on the guards.
There was a pregnant pause before the Knight-aether raised his head, a voice distorted by speakers made them all jump, “Welcome, Lord Miles asked me to congratulate you in being,” he paused, “tenacious. He also asked me to kill you.” The Knight-aether snapped into action, one hand raising the sword whilst the other raised its fist and pointed the arm-mounted Hotchkiss at them.
Even as it started to move bullets started to zip through the air like a horde of angry hornets, the troopers desperate to kill it as fast as possible. Aside from the machine gun, Lady Ashdown also noticed retractable blades on the other arm.
“Karl! What are we up against?” she flung herself to the ground as the machine gun was turned on her, rolling behind what cover she could find.
“Scheisser! Close quarters, an assault suit, we called them waffenritter, weapon knights.” The trooper’s bullets spanged off the armour, sparking as they were deflected by the thick steel armour.
Lady Ashdown cursed as a quick flick of the knight’s sword cut a trooper in half, the legs still walking whilst the top of the body toppled backwards.
She Pushed an aether bolt slamming it into the Hotchkiss arm, shattering the gun and causing the rounds to cook off all at the same time. The combined explosions caused it to stagger, throwing off the next mammoth swing that it took at Smythe.
“Keep hitting it, Clara! Can you get a shield up as well?” the sword hissed through the air again, forcing Smythe to go into a roll. He came up into the kneel behind the knight and fire his Maverick point-blank into the knee joints. This time the load was mixed, normal rounds with demon. The former did nothing but lodge in the various joints, but the demon rounds lodged and then started to heat up.
The metal turned red hot immediately, the demons boring into the metal before escaping into the air. The knight practically hopped as the heat penetrated the suit. The joints sealed as the metal cooled, forcing the leg into a bent angle.
The knight pivoted, desperately swinging at Smythe whilst trying to keep his balance. She sent more aether bolt slamming into the suit, the force knocking it sideways but doing still doing little damage.
Suddenly there was a roar and Von Adin’s head appeared above the knight’s helmet. He hooked his aether-glove fingers into the rim of the eye slits and poured aether through them. A high-pitched wail came through the helmet’s speaker horns, smoke boiling out of the earpieces. With a ground-shaking thump the knight dropped to his knees before crashing to the ground face down, Von Adin rolling smoothly off to stand before her.