The third morning of their stay in An Vrong had come. Above the shroud of the jungle, the rhythm of a hammer’s beat and the incoherent warbling of a radio blended together like a strange, ceaseless melody.
“How’s the radio doing, chum?”
Dylus retracted his hand’s multitool away from the boxy device in front of him, tasting salt as it rolled down his face. The gnashing of teeth and a low grunt signalled his exhaustion.
“Almost fixed.”
This was no doubt the work of saboteurs from Sawat-Lon’s cabal, the same fate suffered by a few of their equipment- including one of their vaunted thirty five mills for the hunt against Rengleb. From the moment they had discovered a heavy machine gun that had been rigged to explode upon tinkering with a bolt latch, Dylus had ordered all of his mercenaries to double down on patrols. Even then, it never got rid of the small chill that had been staying with him since his briefing. This watchtower he sat in offered no help against this paranoia. If anything, it made it feel worse.
He looked at the radio again, dimly lit by a hanging lamp as it sat on a small table, and held up the circuit board he had been fixing. Most of the damage was already repaired, leaving him with the task of carefully connecting new parts to the existing circuit. Resuming work after a sip of water, his mind eventually drifted off, thinking about the last few days.
Most, if not all, of the mercenaries had warmed up to the idea of hunting a giant monster. Some, like Lieutenant Miriam, took longer to convince. Whatever their opinions, the preparations had cut into the time of their allies; eventually, it cut right into Engli’s already ice-thin patience.
Battling sabotage, mistrust from the villagers, especially the antagonistic Kwang, and problems from the army itself had left her in a foul mood. Dylus could not blame her at all, especially when the town of Ozka began transmitting strange messages to the town.
Having been there when one of them came through, the sheer unnatural stiffness and static behind their voice disturbed him. Pira and Muzan were present too, immediately pointing out that Ozka’s chief had been desperately clear about their own conditions: outgunned, under siege by raiders, and very much FUBAR’d before they had even settled in An Vrong properly.
None of these points had been told to Engli at all. The twisted expression she wore upon hearing the news was still fresh in Dylus’ mind, as was her volcanic outburst to him and her subordinates later that night.
The relationship between military and mercenaries had deteriorated since then. The commissar was only willing to stay one more afternoon to humour Dylus’ mission. That afternoon was rapidly coming up; after that, the mercenaries were on their own. The thought almost made him snap the circuit board. Fortunately, Wally defused his mind after feeling the mood change in the air.
“Hey, hey, chum, chill with the vibes. Ignore the radio for a bit, look out at the jungle with me.”
Dylus put the circuit board down, shutting his eyes for a moment, “In a bit.”
Wally nodded, landing on his lap and resting the back of his head against Dylus’ chest armour. The added weight helped calm the captain’s nerves. What he said, however, was debatably helpful.
“So, we’re on our own when the sun’s on top.”
“Yup. That we are. Thought we’d be following the Colonel’s orders like this. Only got a pissed off hawk willing to leave us behind.”
“She’s done a lot, chum. The whole town’s all bricked up now, only took two days for her boys to turn An Vrong into a fortress for the old man. I don’t really blame her.”
Dylus huffed, “Thanks for being on my side, dude. Really helpful.”
“I didn’t say she’s entirely right for ditching you, though,” Wally said, remembering that he also fervently supported helping the villagers, “What if that giant turkey-with-claws goes after her convoy? She won’t have us around to defend them, especially with what we’ve learned.”
“I was about to bring that up, you know. Lon knows we’re here already with all this suddenly-broken stuff,” Dylus held up the circuit board to make his point clear, “She goes through with speeding up the relief schedule, she’ll probably end up like the other convoys.”
“Do you think she’s a right prick for stiffing you, then?”
His mouth opened, then paused. He thought carefully about his next words, keeping in mind Miriam’s caution about his ego. Dylus processed Engli’s harshness, her perspective and her duty, then spoke, “No. She’s a soldier. She has her orders, so do we. I just made a different call.”
“Good that you say that, ‘cause she might be scary, but she ain’t wrong. Must be painful for her to see that she can’t be in every town at once.”
“Especially since they’ll be her fellow countrymen soon. Protect your people, am I right?”
“Yup.”
They both sat there for a while, listening to the jungle. The sounds of cawing birds and whispering winds gave their minds some peace, alongside a familiar faint humming high above. They ignored it for a while, with Wally passing on a question to his friend.
“How do you think she’s doing?”
“Miriam? Or Engli?”
Wally shook his snout, “I meant Yumi.”
“Oh. I’m-”
Dylus cut himself off. He wanted to say she was alright, that she was carrying her head high like a trooper like himself. Doing so, however, would prove he was a horrible liar. Yumiko had called in two nights ago, barely keeping herself together. To remember hearing how the siege had badly shaken- nay, shattered- her tone was incredibly uncomfortable.
There was a man she spoke about with him in private, who had been galvanised by her fearless, calculating demeanour in the company of death. He never lasted an hour into his third deployment. His death took much, much longer than that, courtesy of a revenant from her past. Yumiko hadn’t seen action since, unable to leave her tent or even her bed.
Dylus desperately wanted to believe it wasn’t the cause of his own fury towards the others, that he was partially responsible for the commissar's own impatience with his tone. When he tried speaking his mind, the multi-tool laden arm of his began audibly malfunctioning, a soft glow emanating from where his containment tube was. Wally noticed and immediately dropped the topic.
“It’s okay. We can do this later. I’m sorry.”
“I,” Dylus pursed his lips, laying his hand on Wally’s head, “I didn’t mean that. You shouldn’t be saying that, please.”
“I picked a bad time for it. Mornings shouldn’t be about bad wake-up calls.”
“Even so-”
“Even so,” Wally played with his fingers before hopping off his friend’s lap, “even so.”
The both of them resumed their duties in silence, with Yumiko’s wellbeing never leaving their minds. Dylus’ proudness in his handiwork had instead turned into sombre reflection, staring at the radio as it whirred to life. He didn’t remember what channel it had been tuned to before, only figuring out when it began receiving.
“This is Squadron Eight reporting in, we’re making final adjustments to bombing patterns. Can we verify that there are no friendlies in the AO of our designated pattern, Ilsovoth? Over.”
“AWACS Ilsovoth to Squadron Eight, copy on last request. Continue on flight path Delta behind Squadron Two.”
Instinctively, Dylus looked up. That faint high humming had come back, this time much louder and clearer. Then in that dawning sky, the captain and his friend saw a flying wedge flying to their East. The silhouettes of heavy bombers were unmistakable even at this distance, and tailing them were several finger-four formations of fighter planes.
The memory of what he had heard before came rushing back. There was a bombing mission today. Anything within the proximity of a staging base at the end of Yarma was to be glassed under the weight of a hundred bombs. A deep fear reawakened itself in him, hoping Yumiko was not anywhere near that place. Wally expressed much the same, alongside some awe at the sight.
“Good lord, that’s terrifying. Death from above, reminds me of my father’s own stories as a pilot.”
“What’d he fly?”
“Didn’t fly. He commanded. An airship, Xamel-class, biggest in the country,” Wally said, his eyes drawn to the lead bomber, “He lost so much sleep over the mistakes he made, no matter how small they were.”
“That’s terrifying.” Dylus mused.
“The house wasn’t nice with him around, if I’m being honest.”
Suddenly, the radio burst into panic. Not only that, but something else was interfering with the current broadcast, making it hard to listen in.
“Wait, something’s not right. AWACS to Squadron Eight, we’ve got bogeys approaching from the north-west. Shit, missile launch detected! Break, break!”
There was not enough light from the explosion to classify it as another Sun, but there was enough to see that nothing remained of the struck bomber. Dylus and Wally retreated into the watchtower as a shadow screeched across the sky with an utterly alien roaring. Two more shadows appeared, cutting down another bomber. The fighters broke off and began engaging the shadows, turning the once-peaceful skies into a clusterfuck of supersonic steel, smoke and gunfire.
“By Tuah!”
The radio was no longer coherent. The AWACS on the other end was scrambling to keep up with the tangos, blindsided by their speed. These weren’t anything the Merahs had encountered before. For now, the dogfights seemed to be contained, if horribly one-sided. However, a new problem made itself known, much closer to them than they expected.
“Chum, chum! We’ve got heavy gunfire in the jungle!”
“Shit.”
Dylus pulled himself together quickly and surveyed the undergrowth with his rifle. He could hear the gunfire as well, which was getting consistently closer with each passing moment.
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Eventually there was line-of-sight with the commotion. Someone, or something, was being pursued. Whether it was a careless raider or a villager, he did not know for now. Taking up the radio, the mishmash of sounds made him switch frequency to their own private comms. At that very same moment, a flare shot out from underneath the canopy, reaching the sky and bursting into red smoke. It was then that the scope of the chase was revealed to him, spoken by a bumbling Bombacla.
“Oy, captain! Captain! We’ve got someone being chased on muleback! Two crawlers with riders approaching fast, perimeter traps didn’t go off! Do you copy?!”
He hooked up his earpiece with the radio, “Bacla, I read ya. Where’s the rest of the trail teams?”
“Shite, I don’t fuckin’ know. They’re out here somewhere, can’t get a fucking read on them outside of your comms. I swear, I didn’t fuck up the radio like last time with the booze. They’ll be drawn to the chase either way, over.”
He looked at Wally, “Fuck, this has to be Lon’s work.”
“Figures the guy’s got us in his palm,” Wally said, stuffing his binocs into the skull-cap’s void, “what’s the play?”
He hadn’t even finished talking when Dylus, complete with hastily stuffed radio, disappeared down the watchtower. His voice echoed, “We go after them! I’ll get Engli on the radio,” then he turned to Bombacla again, “Bacla, keep trying to contact the trail teams. Tell them to fall back to An Vrong immediately!”
“How’d ya know these punks are heading there?”
Dylus looked back at the red smoke, now dissipating into the wind, “It’s the only place worth running to here.”
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“Xanth to Harbin, do you read?”
“Aiff, send transem.”
“The pack leader has left his roost. Signal has been launched. He has been informed of our handiwork.”
“Does he know how much was tampered with?”
“No, but he will find out, one way or another.”
“You should have killed him when you had the chance, brother.”
“With those eyes, I couldn’t. They watch even when he’s asleep. Something’s in him, Harbin. Something dead, dreaming, angry.”
“Even death can die once more. You make excuses.”
“Sawat-Lon fears not a man, but something more with him. Is that a weakness or a portent?”
“We will find out after we begin the next phase. Where are you now?”
“Leaving the pack leader’s watchtower. The detonator is on me. I will wait for the chase to get closer. Our brothers are ready, yes?”
“Yes. They are ready, even if one has failed his duty. The lure has been prepared for our beast.”
“No matter the losses, Harbin. Chief Muzan, their beacon of hope, must be robbed from them and broken apart at all costs. These mercenaries will get their hunt- no matter how ready they really are.”
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The jungle was a blur to Dylus and Wally, with the wild whooshing of the wind buffeting their hearing. Sardine was pushing herself to the limit going after the chase, her ears concentrated on the gunfire and artillery being lobbed. He gripped onto the reins, hoping he wouldn’t fly off from a wild buck or a frightened stop. Having memorised where each trap they laid out was, the path that he was on was woefully windy.
He couldn’t trust his own plans anymore. Deep down, that very idea spooked him slightly, reminded him he was no longer against barbarians. This was one section of a vast army, with all the training and fanaticism to go with it. While it had gone rogue and the way of barbarism, their cruelty was refined by their training. There was no telling just how much of his own designs were countered. All he could do was adapt to the game and find a way to win.
Reaching out to Wally, his voice came as loud shouting, “Walls, get Miriam on the horn now!”
“Hold on! I’m picking out a weapon-”
“Damn the weapon for now! Help me switch frequencies!”
There was a click that none of them heard over the commotion. Miriam’s line began buzzing and Dylus instantly began transmitting his orders, “Miriam, this is Dylus, we’ve got a chase heading towards An Vrong. One man on muleback, two on crawlers. Not sure on the last bit, but I know the first. Assume muleback individual is a friendly, treat the other two as hostiles and mobilise the rest of the troop, over.”
Thankfully, she was quick to respond. It helped that the dogfight above had spooked the town properly, forcing her outside to calm everyone down with the Merah soldiers.
“Miriam to Dylus, I copy. Where are you now? Where’s the rest of the guys on observation?”
“Don’t know, Bacla couldn’t raise them, suspecting more sabotaged equipment over the night,” Dylus said, hearing the sound of more exploding smoke shells behind him, “but they’re rallying around my signal. I’m getting after the contacts. Defensive positions, quickly, and double-check for boobytraps from our friends in the jungle.”
“Aye, captain.”
The line went dead. He shouted to Wally again, “Now to Engli!”
Wally nodded, barely keeping his grip on Sardine as a strange box-like rifle came out of the skull-cap’s eye hole. The line buzzed again, launching him into another transmission.
“Captain- I mean, Commissar Engli, this is Captain Dylus, how copy-”
“All clear, Captain, my men are already on high alert and ready to intercept the chase. We’re clearing out the open areas and moving the villagers underground.”
“You work fucking fast.”
“Whole goddamn town is on fire. Chief Muzan’s saying a group of villagers tried to attack him at the start of this madness, your mercenaries are all over the place, we’re still disarming the traps left by the raiders and contending with that damn dogfight over our heads.”
“Tuah, what was that first one?”
“Chief Muzan was attacked, but he’s fine. His associate Kwang and a few of the hunters drove the group somewhere else, but they’re expecting a full-out siege soon!”
“Fucking fuck,” Dylus cursed, turning off his mic, “not when we’re this close to hunting Rengleb!”
“Chum!” Wally shouted. Dylus looked where he was pointing and saw one of the crawlers behind rapidly-moving foliage.
The vehicle was almost the size of his motorcycle- smaller than Sardine- but instead of wheels, there was an entire rolling mono-track assembly underneath its armour. Three appendages rose, fell and bobbed with the vehicle’s motion, hoisting weapons that overshadowed the rider and surface with fierce fire.
There had to be three weapons each for the vehicles. There was no way to get a clear shot with this much cover for them, even if they were ripping it to pieces by themselves. The riders looked armoured too, as if they were actually part of the vehicles, meaning any glancing shot would only annoy them. Dylus grunted, took his mechanical hand off the rein and pulled out his revolver.
At this speed, he only had six shots. Wally, he didn’t know how much, but six shots will have to do. He shut his eyes for a moment, reached out to his containment cell and drew some built-up energy from it. His multitools autonomously deployed, boring themselves into the revolver’s open holes. They were not there from damage, but on his own design. Soon, his pistol was now vibrating with energy.
He cracked a wicked grin, willingly parting with any and all woes he had earlier on.
----------------------------------------
“This is Lieutenant Harbin, the enemy pack leader has entered engagement. Use any and all means to eliminate him and his packmates. Hanyak squad Beta, pursue and assist in clearing out-”
“Harbin, you glory-houding fool, thinking you can cover up your failure with a little madness!”
“Pherneus, remove yourself from the line. This is a direct order.”
“Because of your stupidity, I’ve elected to ignore your orders. Your obsession with needless sadism has gone too far, as is your rising one with this mercenary leader. Explain yourself.”
“He is not an obsession. How can he even be one, if I have only known him for a month? He, like the rest, are pieces to be removed. And they must be removed as cleanly as possible.”
“That was not the master’s plan. Your folly at Ozka has forced him to evacuate once more in the midst of his strategy. That their resistance agent lives after all this time too only cements your failure as his servant.”
“Why do you think me and my men are moving ahead of schedule, Pherneus? Do you presume I wreak havoc towards An Vrong because I’m desperate to make up for my failure? No, this is all part of his vision. I merely took a different path to the same endgame. We all fail, sooner or later, Pherneus, and yours is that you haven’t realised your own failure.”
“You dare-”
“I dare, because I will get results. When the smoke clears, the dust settles and the dead enter deliverance, I will bring our master what he wants: Chief Muzan, broken and awaiting judgement, and our Northlander spy, dead with her head on a pike.”
“...clever.”
“Now get off the line, or I will have Xanth do it for me.”
“As you say. Once you’re done, however, I only expect you to find out where Ozka has hidden those machines.”
“All part of the plan, my friend. All part of the plan.”
----------------------------------------
A stream of bullets tried to follow Dylus from the vehicle up ahead. Even though he was inexperienced in handling Sardine, the scaly mule’s focus on staying alive and his small nudges had kept them alive. It helped that neither parties had clear shots on each other with how treacherous the jungle was at their speed.
In retaliation, Wally fired back. He was lucky the shoulder he picked as a mount was next to his earpiece; they were positively ringing. His revolver, however, remained unused. He needed to make sure he had the surest shot on the rider.
Sparks flew up in the air up ahead. Wally was hitting something, though obviously that something was not critical to its function. Dylus focused harder on weaving Sardine through the trees.
“Keep firing! I’m bringing us closer!”
“What?! Hell no, that gun’s gonna shred us!”
As if to prove his point, the rider grew tired of simply warding off the pursuer. The other arm pointed backwards and began firing. The first shot cleaved through a thick tree behind them, the sounds of it falling echoing throughout the jungle. Dylus cursed under his breath, keeping a tight grip on his charged revolver.
“How many guns does that thing have?”
“It doesn’t matter! Shut up, pull that trigger!”
The other mule rider took the chance to dip into a small canyon-like area to lose the mono-tracks. It was off the beaten path, pointing away from the village, but it gave them enough cover to force the mono-tracks to look elsewhere. Unfortunately, that meant he was in their sights. The shootout became two versus one.
One of the bullets grazed his metal arm, nearly causing him to drop the revolver. Another grazed Sardine. She neighed in utter agony, but Dylus kept her under control. The undergrowth opened up slightly, making one mono-track careless as it manoeuvred its shotgun arm his way.
Dylus wasn’t expecting it, but it was a window of opportunity.
“Brace yourself, Walls!”
The revolver crackled with energy. Positioned just above the saddle but underneath his head, its supercharged bullet screamed with an unearthly wail, releasing a strong gust of wind. By the time the mono-track’s rider heard it, the vehicle had been struck by the round. Sardine nearly bucked her rider off from the scream and resulting blast, causing Dylus to momentarily lose his grip. Wally boosted his thrusters and pulled hard on his friend’s armour with one hand.
“Hang on, chum, I got you!”
With tremendous effort, the both of them fell back into the saddle. He acted as though his life hadn’t flashed in front of his eyes. Instead, there was only glee in his voice.
“Take that, you prick,” Dylus hollered, before shouting to Wally, “Where’s the next one?”
Suddenly, a hail of fire came from behind them. Sardine neighed again, this time profusely bleeding as the bullets struck her rear and body. Somehow the old girl went even faster, keeping up her momentum as three more mono-tracks roared from the jungle.
“Oh, Tuah.”
They were severely outmatched, having lost sight of their mysterious muleback person of interest, and help seemed far away. He nearly called for Wally to change the radio unit once more when that help also burst through the foliage on four wheels, their fifty-cal eating up its ammo voraciously. The other mercenaries had arrived, hailing him through the radio.
“Ayo, this is Corporal Benji! Sorry we’re late boss, we had something trying to rig our ride to blow!”
“Benji! Fuck that, cover me!”
“Righto! The village is coming up! Boss Bacla’s car is chasing after the other two crawlers, no pressure!”
The chase was now four versus two. The pandemonium of the morning’s battle was increased significantly when the dogfight above had descended into knife-fight twists and turns above the canopy. The jungle was now full of chaos as both theatres-of-war merged into each other, with each side still so utterly indifferent to the other.
As far as Dylus knew, this was only the start of today’s fight. His gut was telling him there was more on the way. Somewhere in there as well, he knew Rengleb wasn’t going to be far behind.