Elassa watched more black dots in blue sky pass over her army. Too fast and too high to bring down, she could probably give chase and catch one, but the chance of being lured into a trap was something she was not willing to risk.
They weren’t doing anything aggressive anyway, instead Fortia said they were simply scouts. They would fly over roughly ever two hours, make a circle around her and then fly back south to report.
Damian Sokolowski peeked out from behind a rock, binoculars close to his eyes as he lay close to the with his command team. They had managed to pull three quarters of First Division back into the cover of the mountains already, a tenth was still retreating, and the rest had been left as a rearguard. It was a suicide mission, of course, but the sorcerers had only given an hour of advance warning.
That past hour had been chaos as Sokolowski reorganised his men. Platoons were hastily loaded into trucks, what ammunition could be taken was. What arms fit onto the trucks were. Two Binturongs were still being repaired, the sorcerers had been given instruction to crush them into tiny metal balls to stop the technology from falling into enemy hands. The guns that didn’t fit though, Kassandora already given her permission for those to be left behind. The soldiers themselves were more important than mass produced small arms. The only thing that Kassandora to not leave behind, besides the artillery, were the trucks. Those which could still drive she driven, those which were being repaired should be destroyed to irreparability. Sappers had made short work of those.
And then Kassandora gave Sokolowski total freedom. She told him exactly what was happening. Elassa was incoming, she would have mages number in the thousands, if not tens of thousands, and he would not get Divine support whilst the retreat was ongoing. Elassa was to be lured south, towards CR if impossible, but her flying corps had to be separated from Fortia’s ground army. And Sokolowski was bait. He unfurled her letter and read the last line again: ‘I am sure you’re aware we have never had the best relationship with Lady Luck. I have never wished for Luck, nor can I see myself ever doing it. I wish you a cool head and that your skill may prevail. You have my blessing, General Damian Sokolowski.
It calmed Sokolowski as he lay there on his stomach. He had her blessing, maybe this was why Iliyal was so fanatical about Kassandora, it was an addicting feeling, for Kassandora herself to say she needed you. Damian couldn’t even explain why he liked it so much, he simply did. And so he kept watching, Pawel, Mateusz and Wiktor were close by. Pawel also looking through binoculars, Mateusz and Wiktor were simply sat with guns.
The team had hidden themselves near the entrance of a tunnel that had been carved out just weeks before. Kassandora didn’t even order it, Sokolowski had told the sorcerers to clear turn the mountains near the edge of the desert into a labyrinthian network of mazes. If Fortia found them, she would spend a week at least scouting everything out, if she didn’t, then Sokolowski had a place to retreat to when Elassa passed over. They were all wearing heavy rugged clothes, the nights here got cold, the winds would roar when night set, and further south the mountains got taller until they were snow-capped. And they were camouflaged, mixtures of browns and reds and yellows to fit in with the stony mountains of red rock that separated the desert from the jungle.
“You see that?” Pawel asked. Of course Sokolowski saw it, it was impossible to miss. On the horizon was a black spot was appearing, Damian didn’t even need his binoculars to see it. Hovering high and practically devouring the desert sands below it as it soared higher and higher, until it was just a mass of bodies against the light-blue sky. Damian grabbed the radio that hung off a wire fixed to his coat.
“This is General Sokolowski, speaking to all lieutenants still in base camp.” He took a breath and let them all respond. A half dozen names reported that they were still there. “Elassa is approaching. Hold her off for as long as possible.” Sokolowski thought of what else to say, the men would need some morale. “Gentlemen.” He made his tone softer. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you. You have Kassandora’s blessing. May we meet again.”
And Sokolowski put his radio down. He grabbed his binoculars and peered through them, at the camp this time, not the mass of approaching mages. Behind him, Mateusz and Wiktor both pulled their rifles off their backs and checked if they were loaded. They weren’t planning to shoot, but sometimes it was better to prepare for the worst.
Damian saw his lieutenants start to scramble as they issued order after order. Men started to run, they dived into trenches with arms full of magazines and rifles from storehouses. Other separated into pairs and claimed the heavy machine guns that were mounted on tripods, others climbed towers, a few dashes to fire from under the cover of sheets that had been leftover. Back when Damian was the leader of the Twin Hearts, it was only in his dreams that men responded so quickly to orders. There was fear, there was self-interested need for survival, there was worry and there were regrets. Men would push them down of course, but to spring into action so quickly was simply unheard of.
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But then, Damian knew he had changed too since receiving Kassandora’s blessing, it made him calmer, he had stopped having the flashes of fear about what happened if they failed, he knew he was changing. But he didn’t worry about it, the changes simply made perfect sense. Kassandora would not hurt her own soldiers without purpose, she wasn’t Anassa. So Damian accepted her blessing, and all the changes it brought. One man rose into the air, Sokolowski narrowed his eyebrow and radioed base camp again. “Why is there a sorcerer still in the camp? Over.”
The reply came swiftly. A man with a hard voice speaking clearly, as if Elassa’s horde wasn’t about to descend on him. “We asked about too, apparently he pissed off the Ambelee girl and was told to stay behind.” He took a breath, then spoke again. “Apologies for the language, General. Over.”
“Don’t worry about it. Over and out.” It was Kassandora’s order that the sorcerers stay alive for as long as possible, but that was something he could do nothing about. He’d put it into a report and explain the situation if he survived this. Kassandora should understand what dealing with sorcerers was like.
And the four men, high atop a mountain path, a mere few steps away from the entrance of a tunnel, watched Elassa’s army move through the air. Sokolowski called for an artillery strike from the retreating Lemurs. They were behind him, on the mountain roads, but they should still be able to fire. Artillery from Fifth and Sixth Division too. The cannons pounded like war drums, each gun unleashing one volley before restarting its escape. Sokolowski wondered how many of them would make it.
A minute passed. In that one minute, Elassa’s army had crossed from the horizon to the base camp, and the shells flew from their barrels to just above it. Sokolowski watched the reactions of the men as his soldiers opened fire. Gunshots rang out in a crazed fashion, a thousand percussion sets entirely out of tune and playing their own rhythm.
And Damian moved his binoculars to the group of mages. Now that they were close, he saw that it wasn’t merely a collection of men. There was structure to their formation. They made up pyramid after pyramid, tightly clumped together, the magicians at the bottom held their staves aimed at the man above them, who in turned aimed his higher, and higher and higher it went. Other mages made circular rings about the formation, holding the staves as if ready to intercept something.
Damian watched the air harden, they wizards became blurry, as if they were stood behind a dirty pane of glass. Bullets crushed themselves on impact against that barrier, a stream of machine gun rounds made a line as the man operating it swerved his turret in the general direction. Bullets started falling into the desert sands below them. “There she is.” Mateusz said dryly.
Damian put the binoculars down and looked at the camp below them. The swarm of magicians was easily two thousand strong, maybe even more. And high above, in a dark blue dress, arms crossed with a staff floating by her side, was Elassa. She watched over the… Damian thought what to call it, it wasn’t a battle, it was a show of power. Even if he had left a million men, he doubted he could overwhelm the shield the mages put up.
And then the artillery shells hit. Elassa moved away from the blast, and then stopped when she realised the explosion would not travel further. Napalm blew up brilliantly, into a colourful explosions of oranges and reds and yellows, the flames roaring and scarring the sky with a wound of tar-black smoke. And then Elassa moved her staff. The napalm extinguished itself. The shield moved and curved, and the jelly started to slowly drip off. “Certification.” Pawel said slowly. Damian rolled his eyes, he already knew what was coming. “Would.” Pawel finished.
The men shared a few chuckles amongst themselves, but this was worse than facing Fortia. At least that monster could not fly. They had not even defeated her yet and already the White Pantheon was sending a stronger foe. Elassa shouted something Damian did not catch, her voice boomed across the desert, then echoed back.
And the shield expanded. The gems on the edges of staves started to glow bright, as if they were torches that had been dipped into the napalm they had just put out. All of them did, the men on the bottom of the pyramids raised their staves. Gems started to glow bright, the men stood at the top of their pyramids aimed their staves forwards and down, at the Sokolowski’s camp.
In one instant, the shield dropped. Some twenty mages were hit by the guns still firing. They fell to the ground, blood spurting from lifeless bodies in long trails. And then, the magicians returned the favour. Beams burst forth from the men at the top of each pyramid. They sliced through the camp without pause, devouring tent and man and clothe alike, and turning the sand it touched into a dirty black-brown glass. Damian’s eyes across the damage, the shield returned, the men he had left behind managed to down some thirty of the magicians. Sokolowski had left a thousand men in that camp, a thousand lives given for forty. That wasn’t an exchange rate he would ever feel proud of.
His eyes travelled up to Elassa, the Goddess lowered herself back towards the mass of mages. Whatever bullets flew towards her simply hit a barrier in the air. They dropped to the ground as Damian watched Elassa chant some spell.
And then Elassa swung her staff.
And the ground opened up, the camp split as a ravine suddenly segmented it.
And the winds started blowing, pulling the sands up in tiny tornadoes.
And the tents and remains of the camp set alight as if they were doused in petrol.
And the air condensed into water to wash everything into that ravine.
Damian and his team retreated into the cave. They had joked of being able to snipe Elassa. Those jokes would never be heard by human ears again. That thing in the sky wasn’t just some Divine, it was a monster incarnate.
What separates children from adults is that children destroy, adults build. I am a Divine of course, so I cannot be childish. But magic needs a certain childish curiosity to be used at its full potential. I would say that I am very much in touch with my inner child.
- Excerpt from Elassa’s Diary.