Chapter 306. Over the Top.
“Reinforcements are arriving, pull back the 42nd assault regiment to make room,” the captain shouted.
Various squad leaders began to push and prod the mass of troops behind us as the regular troops were led back into secondary trenches to make room for whatever reinforcements were coming. We waited for about twenty minutes as the regular troops made their way back, and a new steam of forces approached.
“All right, summoned beings, head to the back wall of the trench. It looks like you’re the second wave this time. The scum is going to get a chance to redeem themselves,” Corporal Schmidt ordered. We followed his command moving back from the ladders at the front of the trench to the back of the trench wall where I was able to finally get a good look at how many summoned beings they had gathered.
This trench was wide, but it did curve, cutting off my view of some of the summoned beings at the ends, but I’d have to say there were at least fifty of us waiting to go. If everyone could summon as many minions as I could, that would be quite a large, and varied, attack force charging the enemy lines.
“Move with a purpose, scum! Fall in behind the ladders in unit formation,” Captain Adkins shouted as a new mass of troops began filing into the trench. If the regulars of the 42nd assault regiment that had been here earlier looked worn down, these men were downright pathetic.
They wore the threadbare grey overcoats the rest of us wore, but they had strips of dirty white cloth sewn across the back. Many limped or bore obvious injuries, and all of them looked like they could use a good meal or two. None held weapons, and the only thing on their weapon harness was a wooden canteen for water.
Most of the newcomers looked terrified, and a few lost control of their bladders as they saw the ladders leading out of the trench. They were packed in tight, and the lead soldiers were forced up the ladders, just under the lip of the trench to pack a few more in.
“Push back up against the trench wall, summoned beings, make room for them. Each of these sorry souls will be eating magic and missiles that would otherwise have hit you or your minions,” Corporal Schmidt said.
Behind each mob of the newly arriving troops were several well-armed and armored soldiers. These wore breastplates or chainmail under their greatcoats, and most held a riding crop in one hand and a sword, mace, or dagger in the other. When any of the newly arrived soldiers took too long to move, or just when the mood struck them, the armored soldiers would smash their riding crops into the back of the offender.
The riding crops were enchanted in some way, and I could see sparks when they struck. One was even cut down when he turned and tried hit the armored soldier behind him. The others just stomped over the body without a care or concern for their fallen comrade.
“Sir, what unit are you with, and how many did you bring?” Corporal Schmidt asked a lieutenant that positioned himself at the back of the trench near the summoned beings. Just like the troops he led, the lieutenant was filthy and unarmed. An armored soldier acted as his personal guard.
“Corporal, this is the 3rd Prisoner Regiment, reinforced with whoever they picked up in the last sweep. All told, we are nearly five hundred souls ready to lead the glorious assault and give our lives to the Salmasani Collective,” the lieutenant said with disdain. The armored soldier swatted the lieutenant with his riding crop.
‘None of that sass, sir, you’ve got orders to not spread anymore of your defeatist attitude,” the armored soldier was obviously not a personal guard, and more like his personal jailor.
I’d heard about penal units in my military history studies with Major Finley. They weren’t exactly effective as anything more than meat for the grinder. It appeared this lot was so poorly regarded that they were forced to attack in front of the disposable summoned beings. The lieutenant didn’t speak further, and Corporal Schmidt didn’t bother the man who was likely about to go to his death soon.
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“Listen up! Members of the 3rd Prisoner Regiment. Your objective is the Temple of Undying Conflict. Take it from the enemy and all of you who participate in the assault will be granted a pardon for your crimes. Keep that in mind as you are issued weapons for the attack. Turn on your betters and the families of all those in your regiment will take your place in the trench,” Captain Adkins warned.
This army I had temporarily joined wasn’t giving me warm and fuzzy feelings, but I would reserve judgment until I saw what we were up against. So far, there wasn’t anything that would make me want to pop my Summoning Pass.
With a sickening feeling, I realized that I hadn’t been given any new Notice of Cessations when I was sent back early from Somhagen. My old ones were probably ineffective now that I was over tier two, rank five. All I had was the one Summoning Pass. I’d have to save that for a truly dire situation where I was being tortured or something.
A commotion among the ranks of the prisoner soldiers drew my attention. Their guards were hauling up large crates and pulling various weapons from them. The weapons were as battered as the men they were issuing them to. As they were distributed among the men, it was obvious there wasn’t enough to go around. Another couple of crates were brought up, but even after those weapons were passed out, the troops of the 3rd Prisoner Regiment had only about two thirds of their number carrying a weapon.
“Quit your squawking. If you don’t have a weapon now, there’ll plenty out there in no man’s land for you to choose from. The important thing is to keep moving once the whistle is blown to begin the assault,” the guards said as they moved back to the rear of the formation.
A flash of heat baked the top of my head as a gigantic fireball streaked just over the trench. It exploded somewhere behind us. The enemy, whoever they were, must have noticed our preparations were doing what they could to disrupt the assault before it started.
All eyes were on Captain Adkins who stood on a crate to be seen by everyone. He held a brass whistle loosely in his mouth. A soldier near the captain had his ear begin to glow as another magical radio message was given. At a nod from the soldier receiving the message, the captain began to blow the whistle. The sound of the small whistle was almost deafening, and it must have been enchanted in some way.
The lead soldiers at the trench ladders hesitated, and from the back of the trench, the guards discharged powerful bolts of electricity from their riding crops into two or three, killing them and spurring the others on. To try and stay behind was death, and attacking was the only slim hope of survival that they had. There were no war cries, or shouts of rage as the 3rd Prisoner Regiment poured over the trench wall and charged forward, just a grim acceptance of their fate.
Once started, the troops moved quickly up the ladders and the crush of bodies in the trench began to lessen. It took a good minute for all the prisoners to go over the top, and the last to charge forward was the disgraced lieutenant, who was handed one of the electric riding crops to wield by a guard as he climbed the ladder.
“Summoned beings, move up the ladder and prepare to attack. As soon as you’re up, move forward twenty paces and begin summoning. Once all your minions are on the field, follow behind them and lend your power to the assault. Do not stop, keep pressing the enemy until the temple is ours,” the captain ordered. I tried to organize the summoning order for my minions. First out would be the drone, followed by Digbaz.
I figured the drone could act as a shield for the kobold mage so he could get all his deadly spells fired off. After that, everyone would be summoned by going with the highest tier and rank first. I’d hit either the drone or Digbaz with my duplicate spell, whichever proved to be the better fit for the battle we were about to enter.
“Go!” Captain Adkins shouted, and I followed discount Gandalf up the ladder.
To my relief, I wasn’t immediately cut down by machine gun fire and was able to make it twenty paces to the spot where I was supposed to begin summoning. My minions began to appear, along with other random creatures as the other summoners started their work.
With the brief delay between summonings, I was in the middle of the pack as far as starting our assault. While summoning, I had gotten a look of the battlefield, and it was about what I’d expected. If the first world war had been fought with magic, it would have probably appeared much the same.
The stench was horrible and the remains of fallen soldiers, both in the grey of the troops I was fighting with, and the dark red of our foes. Everyone was filthy so the color of the enemy uniforms didn’t seem to make a difference. In any other type of battle, they’d be easy to spot, but here, everyone on both sides of the battle was somewhere hidden in the trench lines or covered in filth.
Just over a quarter mile away was the enemy trench line, and I could see a constant stream of crossbow fire interspersed with blast of magic lash out from the enemy trenches. The prisoner regiment in front of us had been cut to pieces, but they were still driving forward. In the distance, behind the enemy trench line, was a stone structure, that the system identified as our objective, the Temple of Unending Conflict.
If the battlefield around it was any indication, the temple was more than living up to its name.