Chapter 3
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US Army Command Post
April 2, 1964
0800
Shaun Roberts forced a polite smile as the Roman- no, the Iberian soldier stared at the food. Bacon strips, with fried eggs on the side, and a glass of orange juice to wash it all down. The man took the breakfast without a word. He didn't make eye contact, he chewed and swallowed in silence, and he moved his utensil so it made as little sound as possible.
It was a little eerie, but Shaun was used to it by now.
There were few prisoners in the American camp, the large tent they had set up only housed six men despite its size. The Military Police officers patrolled silently around the tent’s walls like bored dogs. Appropriately, their K9s, scary-looking German Shepherds that Shaun was sure would rip his throat out without a second thought, at least appeared even now to be somewhat interested in the new surroundings and smells of an entirely new world; their noses often glued to the grassy fields beneath them. But the MPs walked around with the unpleasant expression of men with very little to do.
For Shaun Roberts, however, that was not a luxury he possessed as he opened his small notepad, watched the Iberian finish his breakfast, and braced himself.
“So... Auxiliary Titus?”
At the mere mention of his name, the man spat at him, the phlegm-ridden spittle landed an inch beneath his eye and Shaun had to shut it before he quickly wiped it away, hoping to avoid some disease. The MP escorting him only reacted with a glare in the direction of the Auxiliary. The young man was blonde, fair-skinned, and probably from Dallas if not somewhere within Texas, but Shaun noticed the grip around his M2 Carbine’s strap tighten slightly and the K9’s ears shift down as if the man was about to order the dog to attack and the dog recognized that it was about to be ordered to do so. Auxiliary Titus only looked pleased with himself.
Shaun sighed, finished wiping the spit from his face, and in a more serious tone, said “Titus, we are not here to destroy Iberia. If you cooperate we can end the bloodshed much faster and your people won’t suffer the effects of a prolonged war.”
Titus crossed his arms. A larger smile formed on the man’s face. As if satisfied.
Shaun frowned and more forcefully said “What had we done to provoke your people into attacking? By your standards are we not justified in destroying everyone? Yet we’ve treated you and your comrades with kindness and respect. Surely you can see that much.”
Titus sneered and Shaun had to suppress his anger as the man finally spoke with a confidence and arrogance that made the task nearly impossible.
“I was told of your rules of war. You will not harm us even if we refuse to cooperate. If you kill us or torture us to death, it is fine by me. If you do not and eventually use us to gain some favor in some future exchange of prisoners then all the better. But you will not use us against our Empire or our Emperor. And you will lose. The land is vast, and our people are numerous. Honorable. Your civilization may be strong, but this world does not belong to you.”
And with that, the man fell silent once more.
Shaun closed his notebook and shook his head, letting the anger and frustration dissipate in his mind.
“Want me to knock his skull around?” the MP asked suddenly, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice. Shaun noted the dog’s ears perked up.
“Violence won’t help us here. They expect it. And I’m pretty sure the Geneva Convention has something to say about whatever you have in mind.”
“Being nice ain’t working much.”
“They see it as weakness, too. These prisoners are useless for intelligence, I’ll pass it along and they’ll be out of our hands soon enough.”
“I can think of a good use for ‘em.”
Shaun did not reply and quietly exited the tent. The world outside was still bright in the early morning. Drier than when he had arrived. The fields were still being dug up to allow for an airfield, and trucks kept coming in from the other side of the Portal while other trucks entered it on their way back home. He watched the mountain peaks with longing, knowing he would likely be stuck at the main camp until more interpreters were needed on the front.
The Imperials did not fight conventional wars the way they knew them.
No, that would be too easy.
They instead used ancient tactics of war; burning the fields, killing anyone who wouldn’t help them, and constantly doing everything in their power to make pushing outward difficult. Perhaps not difficult for modern logistics or armored cavalry, but in the sense of encountering civilians and getting intelligence...
He paused as his gaze went over the peaks that led to the second valley they’d taken. The highway was dusty now with trucks going through, but his eyes went wide as he saw the Marine transports. He hadn’t noticed they were Marines until he saw the men riding the trucks wearing their M1955 flak jackets, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.
They rode on a reasonably large cart, pulled not by horses but by the Marine LVTP-5 carrier. It was wooden and old, but sturdy enough. Women and children rode on it while several men walked alongside it. They each took their surroundings in with a cautious expression, tired eyes nervously scanned each of the men as if to gauge if there was a threat or not.
As they passed by him, their gazes lingered on him for a second, then quickly turned to something else.
He wondered if he should have been surprised despite of the unquestionably human bodies, they all had wolf ears and tails.
0943
Luna watched the oddly specific map on the table while smiling politely as the men in curious green clothes and funny wool hats discussed things amongst one another.
It was adorable!
They all talked about a few things she didn’t understand in a tone she couldn’t read and a language she couldn’t comprehend, paused, looked at her and her father, then went right back to talking. Like children plotting some scheme to take food before a celebration. Yes, the situation was more serious than that, and yes the men did appear unsure of what to do, but how was she not supposed to be at least somewhat elated?
The invaders weren’t monsters. The invaders weren’t out for the blood of everyone in the region. The invaders did not hate them specifically. Even with her father cautiously eyeing the windows on the lone wooden hut these men called their command post, she doubted they had ill intentions with them. If they did, they would have grabbed them all by now, and the women would be...
She forced the thought aside, trying to focus on the reality that, for the moment, they were safe.
The “Marine” interpreter eyed her curiously as the officers began talking to him.
Then, turning to her father, he asked “We have trouble with the Iberian prisoners and our information about the mountains is still lacking. But if your people can provide us with information, sir Blaine, I believe we can arrange for your people to stay in the area as long as you wish.”
“As well as water and medicine for any sick we have?”
“Yes, sir. In exchange for your services.” the man emphasized the last part.
“You won’t force us to fight for you? You only request guides and information.”
“Yes, sir.”
Her father only breathed a sigh of relief.
“We’ll see what we can do. On behalf of us Lupus, we thank you.”
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The Marine translated, and the men in charge said a few things in rapid succession. After a moment, the Marine turned to them and spoke with a touch of uncertainty.
“That should be all. We have some things that we could use help with regarding our prisoners.”
“We will gladly help.”
“Uh, first you have to be cleared.”
Cleared?
1105
Getting “cleared” it turned out, was some kind of code for being cleansed and checked for disease. The tent they had to bathe in was private enough, but Luna could only wonder why cleanliness was such a massive concern. The women that were examining her were not quite leering but rather fascinated by her ears and tail. They stared constantly at her lack of human ears as if those were a rather bizarre feature. She reminded herself that these invaders had not once seen a demi-human in person up until now and went on with being cleaned as her mind drifted to something stranger.
There were women with the soldiers!
Not families of the men, not servants, but women who worked with these men from another world. They wore white dresses with a red cross, which made them more noticeable if anything. These were not mages, either. She saw no water magic being employed, and while their soap was very different from the soaps she had seen others use, it was not what she would describe as “magical”. It was all rather simple, really. Familiar, almost. And yet strangely otherworldly.
She dried her long dark hair and was given some now clean clothes which were an ugly shade of green, but she did not complain. They fit her well enough, and she noted the red sash identified her from the other men wearing the green uniform.
She found Alan and Blaan standing by a tent with several of the Marines, her people wore similar uniforms to her own, with similar sashes, but she kept her mountain clothes. Those were too familiar to let go of.
“Well, that was easy enough!” she said chipperly.
She ignored the stares from the others and said “Well? What do you need help with?”
Blaan shifted in place, and said “They are explaining... rec-orders?”
The Marine they knew as “Frank” nodded.
Alan said, “If I understood correctly, they use a machine that can listen to your voice, then repeat what you said back on command.”
“Oh! So they have some mages among them?”
“No, it’s a machine. No magic. They have been recording the conversations of their Iberian prisoners for the last two weeks, they say.”
Frank added “They make some references to names and areas we are unsure of. We would like it if you could take a look and see if there is something that we can use.”
“Sounds easy! What are we waiting for?”
Alpine Mountains
Agustine watched the men at the bottom of the ravine in silence.
They were vigilant, and unwavering as the men who didn’t have their hands on their odd staffs continued to work in silence. He glanced at the man on his right and nodded. They crawled carefully back away from the edge, careful not to cause even a pebble to shift out of place, lest they alert the enemy of their presence. Then, continuing with a slow, methodical pace, they got up and moved back into a ruff of trees and bushes that wouldn’t hide them particularly well, but thankfully the only birds in the skies were of their world.
“Can we do it now?”
Sirus nodded.
As an earth mage, the man didn’t have the most combat-effective use. Agustine recalled seeing him work on preparing the materials for constructing walls around the Doorway, he recalled the way he could turn wet mud into hardened stone if given suitable materials. Great for the construction of city walls and defenses. But now there was a new method to his craft.
But would it work?
Pushing the doubts away, he instead said, “Then let us catch ourselves some cowardly invaders.”
Sirus raised a hand and several stone-throwers emerged from the thicker trees. Their slingshots held a lone “whistling” stone each. He counted a hundred men once they were in position just behind the edges of the ravine.
It was Sirus who’d alerted him.
Agustine peered over the edge and saw the enemy soldiers below running back, their staffs now firmly gripped and pointed toward the peaks above.
“What?! Were we spotted?!” he demanded.
The response did not matter. Even if they failed to capture any Americans, they would block their roads.
“Sirus, get to work. The rest of you, rain death upon the enemies of the Empire!” he crashed a pair of stones, creating sparks that he quickly manipulated into a bright orange flame in the air ahead of him. He could feel the heat searing his eyebrows as he felt himself changing the air, the fire obediently following, devouring the changed air as it did so. Carefully, he swirled it around and sent it toward the retreating men and it obediently followed after the trail he set forth.
The men below definitely saw him now and some were beginning their angry bellows as their staffs spat smoke towards him. He felt a buzzing go over his shoulder as he guided the flames below and his stone throwers all rose up and launched their whistling stones in anger.
It was a cacophony of noise that followed. The stones had a hole each, which caused them to “whistle” as they flew through the air. His own flames roared as they approached the enemy but as a hundred of the whistling stones flew after it, it too became a scream. It joined the enemy as they yelled and spat death back at them.
His flames slammed into the ground as he'd led them, devouring a man whole and partly enveloping another one just as they had tried to move away. They both fell away as his flame reformed over them, screaming as he tried to ensure the fire killed them both. More buzzing nearby as their friends increased the amount of death they threw at them, and Agustine had to duck down and leave the burnt men's fate to the gods.
“Sirus!”
The earth mage was sweating, his usually tanned features were now pale even in the early morning light. Still, the man raised his hand, and Agustine smiled. He caused another spark, which spawned another flame, but he kept this one small. It kissed the slightly discolored dirt on the edge of the rocky ravine, and it was all it took.
The land under them gave way, as the flames burrowed deep into the ground and ripped the segment of the mountain apart. Giant stones, larger than any elephant or wyvern, fell away towards the highway below. The earth shook, and his men cheered as large parts of the mountain fell to the highway below, effectively sealing it.
But Agustine frowned as the dust settled.
He saw the Americans had pulled their wounded away, and more men in their small metal chariots had arrived. Now heavier explosions rang out as the larger weapons began to spit death at them. Annoyingly, the men he'd enveloped in flames were being dragged away. Alive.
“Fall back! We did our damage! Fall back!” Agustine ordered before anyone saw something that would be remotely demoralizing. They had done their damage, after all.
Most of the Americans stared at the blocked highway more than at him, and he smiled. Then, moving quickly, he followed after his men, knowing that soon, the enemy magic would be upon the place he stood, and there would be nothing left of him if he stayed there.
American Command Post
1638
As it turned out, it was not as easy as she would have liked.
Luna played with the curious but not entirely alien invention of a "pencil" as she listened to the machine repeat what it heard. The machine she and her comrades were listening to repeated voices of men she knew were prisoners kept in the area, and she understood them all too well, but there was very little substance as of yet. Occasional questions about the food they ate, references to their homes to the south and west, melancholy regrets of their inability to see their women back home, on and on.
And yet the Americans wanted them to give explanations for every particular detail!
Where was Vicenzo? What was its status? Who was the head of its governing body? What did this mean, what is that, who is it now? Bored, she released the pencil and stretched in the metal seat that squeaked as she moved. She wondered if it was rusty as the machine kept repeating words to her.
She eyed the soldier who was recording them on parchment using a decisively more alien machine that wrote based on buttons pushed and made odd dings every so often. The young man made eye contact, then quickly looked away.
Luna frowned.
The man's darker skin wasn’t entirely unusual, but she wondered why their world did not have demi-humans and this one did. to the point the men she'd met were less disturbed and more uncertain of how to act around her people. More curious were the dogs the men had. They were very different from the dogs she had seen scattered around the region. Pointy ears like wolves, yet smaller, furrier, and just as confused of her existence. As a guard walked past with his dog on a leash, the dog never missed the opportunity to sniff at her legs and tail even now, perhaps confused by her existence and needing to verify her every time.
Just what were the differences with their dogs anyway?
Suddenly her ears perked up as the recording whispered something that caught her attention.
“Could we hear that last part again?”
The man on the writing machine paused, then pressed a button on the talking machine for a second, and the voice repeated yet again from a moment ago, though not quite the exact moment she’d heard. She waited. Her eyes narrowed at the hushed words, almost imperceptible over the other voices. It was a conversation about fighting the invaders and...
“They have Agustine with them. If anyone can figure something out, it will be him.”
“Assuming the Seljuk Tribe fails to achieve victory first. Those eastern felines have slaves that-”
“Shut up.”
“Who cares if they hear us?”
“Just shut up about that!”
“Fine, but the point is we will get out of this.”
“Miss Luna?” the man asked.
“Have your men taken the slave routes in the northern part of the mountains?” she asked.
“Slave routes?”
“Yes, specifically slave routes. Normal slaves are taken through the main highways, but special slaves are snuck through on secret roads if they are important enough. It avoids the dangers of the main highways and can be difficult to reach if you don’t know of them.”
“You know where these routes are?”
“Yes, Alan and I have at times spied on them a few times. We’ve traveled the mountains enough to know where they are.”
“Then, could you lead us to these areas?”
“Of course!” she said with a smile, feeling her tail wag unconsciously.