It felt like silence, despite the motion of the water and the sound of the oars rowing through it. Even as they got closer to the docks, the boat's engine off, they barely heard the murmuring of some foreign language by the campfire.
Hersir Larson didn't need a signal. As quickly as an otter, she dived off the boat, giving way to a wave of followers. Soldiers dived off the side, each in a row.
Tapio missed the look of utter fear Oscar gave him, because it was only a matter of minutes until every other soldier was under the waves.
Tapio took a run at the boat's rail and dived. His stomach barely missed the railing as he curved his body straight down.
He waited until the last possible moment to gasp a breath of air and he was plunged into cold darkness.
He sank immediately, and he only lightly started swimming with his arms and feet. He knew that his Spangenhelm and equipment would drag him down. In the war, many soldiers even loaded their pockets with extra bullets or even rocks.
Because you couldn't swim fast in a great coat, army boots, and equipment. Fighting to stay afloat expended too much energy. It would guarantee you would drown.
But walking was faster.
As his clothes soaked with the bitter cold of the water, he fought his body's instinct to gasp in shock. It wasn't long until he felt rock and sand beneath him. With his gloved hands he dug in, and began pulling himself along while lightly kicking his legs.
His lungs began to burn. But it was ok. Only an initial reaction, more to the freezing temperatures instead of an actual need for oxygen. As he swam ahead, he heard the whooshing sound of people swimming, and bubbles, he hoped not from a soldier panicking and drowning. His eyes opened and burned to the familiar touch of water, but he could not see a thing. The darkness of the night blocked out everything.
As his burning lungs began to scream, he knew he wouldn't last. He pulled up his legs, and braced against them. Praying no fellow soldiers were above him, he pushed against the seafloor and launched himself straight up. He only had to swim for a moment, before his head broke the surface. His eyes slammed shut as water cascaded down his face from his helmet. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision.
His spirits were raised when he saw how close he was to the docks. With a big breath, he began to swim towards them. By the time he reached the dock support post, another soldier was clinging to it. Tapio swam to a different support, and clung on and breathed desperately.
Looking back, Tapio saw a group of swimming bodies. Some were handling it better than others. One soldier's hands were splashing, desperately reaching upward as they sank. However a moment later another soldier emerged from the water next to them, pulling their head above water. They both gasped for air before the waves claimed them again.
Above Tapio, heavy footsteps thunked down the dock. A single walker. A Guard. The other soldier was already wrenching himself up out of the water, slowly climbing up the dock support.
Tapio took a breath and dived back into the waves. Ahead of him he saw two figures, most likely one would be Larson. He pushed against the dock's support, propelling him forward. The ground was already rapidly rising beneath him. Soon he was pulling himself along, as before, but much closer to the surface.
When he next surfaced, he was much closer to the beach. He was not far behind Hersir Larson and another soldier. They were crouched, swimming along and keeping pace to be hidden under the water. He copied them, quickly making his way up the beach.
Behind them a man groaned and sputtered. A moment later, a splash into the water. Tapio didn't look back. Hopefully it was the guard being taken care of by his men.
Tapio's eyes were frozen to the campfire, and the three soldiers standing there. Three Rusviet soldiers. One was talking very animatedly, telling a story loudly. The other two seemed enthralled in it, laughing and cheering in places. They had not noticed a thing.
Including the first three Nordic soldiers emerging from the waves, sloshing through the ankle deep water as quickly as they could. Tapio's clothing was drenched, and the weight was apparent. It felt as though the cold grip of the sea was attempting to pull him back. The cascades of ice water poured from his helmet, poured from every nook and cranny. His wet clothes stuck awkwardly to every curve of his skin, and pulled as if every ounce of clothing was too small.
Tapio's lungs were thankful, however. They filled with air steadily, even as they began to run up the beach. Every footfall crunched pebbles beneath their boots.
Larson already had her sword drawn. Tapio was quick to draw his, and his soggy gloved hand fumbled with his ax. Their footsteps turned quiet as they hit tufts of grass.
The fire was getting closer. The brightness of the fire almost hurt Tapio's eyes. Tapio focused in on the furthest guard to the right. He trusted the other two made note of who they were closest to.
His bones were stiff. His joints ached. His muscles screamed. But Tapio's heart beat in his whole body like the thrum of a motor. The adrenaline had kicked in. He was sprinting by the time they entered the firelight.
Whether it was a stray noise or clang, the thrum of their footfalls, the motion caught in the eye, or just a sixth sense; one of the guards turned, suddenly. The smile fell from his face.
Tapio only had a few steps to close the distance, but his target barely reached for the rifle slung over his shoulder before Tapio's ax was in his neck.
With force, Tapio plunged his sword into the man's stomach, momentarily lifting him off his feet before slamming him to the ground on his back. He gurgled quietly under Tapio's weight.
Another Rusviet soldier beside Tapio let out a short grunt that could've been confused for a cough. Otherwise, in a matter of moments the three guards were slain, and Tapio was removing his weapons and holstering them.
Tapio turned off to his right at an exclamation from another soldier, but he saw it was because two additional soldiers had rushed him and were hacking at him with their axes.
Looking back at the beach, Tapio saw the soldiers making their way from up the beach, or jogging down the docks they had climbed. Two soldiers laid sprawled out on the stones of the beach, but they did not appear to be dead, just sputtering and gasping for air. Their fellow soldiers rightfully left them behind to recover, not wanting to get stuck on the beach.
Tapio turned his head back toward the village. There was a sound of exclamation from further in, like someone shouting a question. Tapio slung his rifle from his back, and hastily tried to untangle the cloth wrapped around it. He noted a few other soldiers at various stages of readying their weapons. Tapio was more practiced than a few of them, though, and quickly had his barrel cleared and he checked the breach to make sure it was cleared of water.
Tapio quickly looked around. The camp fire had been alongside a small hut of a house. Across a short "lawn" was another building, larger and made of metal sheeting. They created a small "alley" leading into town with more buildings more tightly packed.
By the time he slammed the bolt forward and raised his rifle, a Rusviet soldier was already poking his head down the small alley, and peering into the darkness. He shouted down to Tapio, it sounded like he was calling for someone by name.
Tapio was unsure how much longer they could keep the quiet advance. Should he fire? Should he wait?
A scream went out to Tapio's right. A Rusviet shouting as he struggled. A gunshot went off.
The Rusviet Tapio was aiming toward jumped at the sound, and he began to back away. Tapio focused in on his chest, released his safety, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked. The Rusviet convulsed and fell forward, smashing into the ground.
The cry went up. Rusviets screaming. Intermediate gunshots rang out as troops slowly began picking targets amongst the confusion. Nordic soldiers were finishing with their guns, and they began to charge up into the town.
A few crates sat at the end of the alley, behind which the Rusviet Tapio shot fell. Two more soldiers appeared, their rifles at the ready, aiming down toward Tapio. Tapio looked to his men, who started charging down the alley.
A realization came to Tapio. He was the Aesir. He needed to command the forces, not just rush forward.
Tapio raised his hand, motioning his troops forward, "Charge ahead! The halls of Valholl await!"
The soldiers in ear range yelled out, "To VALHOLL!". It was the traditional yell of Nordic soldiers. It threw Tapio back. Back to the war. Back to the cold winters. The wet springs. The Rusviet soldiers fired. And Tapio fired back.
Bullets whizzed back and forth. The gunfire erupted. Soldiers cried out in Rusviet and Nordic tongues as they were hit. Tapio's hand moved smoothly into the old, familiar motions of fire, pull bolt up, pull bolt back, shove bolt forward, and slap it back down into place. Repeat.
Hersir Larson raised her hand to the sky, a pistol with a massive single barrel. It shot off with a low pitched thunk, and a bright flare shot into the sky. A moment later, it burst, lighting up the town.
While a few Rusviet soldiers looked up at the flare, Tapio took the opportunity to rush forward, and fire into soldiers until his rifle ran out of bullets.
Tapio approached a metal building. Inside, he could hear exclamations in Rusviet. Tapio pulled one of the two grenades from his webbing and pulled at the rip cord. He tossed the grenade into the doorway, and continued down the side of the building. Tapio pulled back the bolt of his rifle, and retrieved a stripper clip of rounds. As he pushed the new row of bullets into the rifle, the grenade went off in the building, and a chorus of screams followed. By the time Tapio tossed aside the used clip, the path ahead had been cleared.
Tapio ran up the side of the building, making his way to the stack of torn crates and wooden scrap that was left as a makeshift cover. Two soldiers ran ahead of him, charging toward the building ahead. Hersir Larson was off to Tapio's left, just behind them.
"Up ahead is the town center," she yelled, "Look, the workshop! We need to secure it to determine the state of survivors!"
Tapio reached the cover and ducked down behind it. He propped his arm on the crates to steady his aim and he swept over the landscape.
The town center had been trashed. The homes in the area had their windows smashed and doors kicked in. The center was made of a cobblestone road town that ran down the center and forked into two roads out of town. The town hall sat at this fork, and was reinforced. Its smashed windows had been boarded up, and the doors had sheet metal hastily attached to them.
Across the street from where Tapio waited was a large, foreboding building. It was covered in metal, and had a large, armored door locked into place that looked to be attached to a hydraulics system that could raise it. The massive door stretched the length of the building. There were signs of explosives and cutting with blow torches. Some of the armored wall had been cut away, exposing beneath a wall of brick. Brick shards and dust littered the ground in front while leaning against the walls were pickaxes and shovels they attempted to bash their way in with.
In front of the town hall, a sandbag barrier had been constructed. It was higher and lower in some places than it was in others, but the majority of the barrier came to about 1 meter off the ground. It looked as if several sections were constructed a little closer down the road to cover different angles, the major one by the front door to the town house was rather large and imposing.
That's when Tapio caught sight of the stationary machine gun they had set up out front of the town hall, pointed down the road. A group of three Rusviets were standing or knelt over it, desperately loading ammunition into it and trying to complete last minute adjustments in preparations for the attack.
As Nordic soldiers began their sprint across the street to the perceived workshop, a few Rusviet riflemen using the barriers as cover fired their rifles. Their bullets smashed harmlessly behind the soldiers into abandoned buildings and the cobblestone road.
However, the alarm had been made. The machine gun soldiers began yelling and panicking. parts of the gun were slammed shut and ammunition boxes tossed aside.
Tapio took aim and fired. His bullet slammed into the sandbag barrier next to the machine gunner team. Sand puffed out like dust and began spilling onto the road below.
The team leapt for cover, but the damage was done. The gunner slapped back the receiver and pointed the machine gun. The gun was aimed squarely on Tapio.
Tapio had a moment to think. In the moment, he bent his knees and allowed him to fall backward. As he reached a point of no return, he pushed away with his legs, propelling him backwards.
The crates splintered into sawdust and shards of wood. He closed his eyes and cowered as he hit the ground. It was moments before the sound of the machine gun even registered as his hearing was filled with the shattering of wood, the ripping and groaning of the sheet metal building, and the cracking and exploding of the stones and dirt as they were tossed into the air.
The machine gun's constant roar truly split the night. No more intermittent pops or bursts of fire. The machine gunner was firing, and firing he continued to do. After what felt like a half hour but was probably only a minute or two, the machine gunner swept the street. Nordic soldiers dived and took cover. Wagons were shredded. sand bags pummeled. Bits of the street tossed around in dust clouds.
Tapio's collar of his coat was grabbed and pulled on, and he began crawling with the effort back away from the sweeping machine gun fire. Hersir Larson was huddled down in a doorway, scrunched up to make herself as small as possible.
"Aesir!" she shouted at Tapio, "We need that gun taken out! Through the buildings!"
Tapio pushed the hands off him, and rose. He motioned for the few soldiers behind him to stand back. His eyes widened at the sight of a sopping wet private who had been pulling him away.
"PRIVATE!" shouted Tapio, "Pederson! What the hell are you doing here?"
Oscar was drenched from head to toe. His skin somehow managed to look even paler. He gripped to his launcher desperately with one hand, the other nervously shaking next to him. His hat managed to stay on, although it was askew and disformed with seawater.
"Following orders!" he said through chattering teeth.
"You were to stay by the boat!" said Tapio, taking him by the collar and shoving him back, "You are in direct violation! You are a fool! Stay down!"
Tapio pushed him down with more force than he intended. Oscar easily was thrown to the ground, he nervously shivered there, his arms coming up in a defensive gesture. Tapio eyed the building they were taking cover behind. Perhaps he could use this to sneak up on the machine gun while it focused on the street.
Tapio fumbled into his webbing, unlatching his Litenoks from its sheath. With slightly shaking hands, he held his rifle by the barrel, and put the Litenoks over the front of the barrel. Sliding it down, he gave it a twist, where it secured into some grooves. He quickly and eagerly twisted two knobs on the attachments themselves to secure them onto the barrel of the rifle. When he had finished, he lifted the rifle again, this time much more front heavy than he had remembered.
To his right, he heard a burst of gunfire, and the screaming charge of Nordic soldiers. Tapio's heart raised. The ground team must have made it and saw the flare. They had most likely sprung on whatever outer defenses the Rusviets had by the road.
Tapio motioned to one of the soldiers, still catching his breath, "You there, run around that way. Support and meet up with the ground team coming in. Make sure they don't come charging down the road into that machine gun fire!"
"Yes, my Aesir," said the soldier, who ran off.
Tapio gestured to the rest of them, "Stay here. When you hear that machine gun so silent, run up and shower them with fire. Our Hersir is suppressed in fire by that machine gun and needs our support!"
Tapio did not wait for their response. He walked down toward a side door into the building he was behind. Suddenly the door kicked open, and a bloodied Risviet stumbled out, yelling. He aimed his shotgun at a Nordic soldier and fired, knocking the soldier to his feet.
Tapio raised his rifle and fired into the turned back of the Rusviet soldier, who stumbled forward and fell to the dirt. As he stirred, Tapio sent another shot into his back.
Two soldiers were already at the side of the fallen one, so Tapio carefully eyed the doorway. It was pitch black inside. He recognized this as the same building he tossed a grenade in earlier.
The shadows began to rapidly move, and Tapio saw the flare slowly sinking down to the ground. Blinking to try and help his night vision, Tapio slowly entered the dark building, his finger on the trigger ready to fire.
He entered into the building. For a moment, the noise outside was muffled. Gunfire, yelled and commands, the roar of the machine gun. He paused for a moment, sweeping the room.
He was in some kind of kitchen. Or perhaps a processing area? Metal tables were strewn about the room. Large metal bins, some on wheels, were also around. In one corner, a stack of rotting fish lay abandoned. A few tool hooks were on the wall, one had a knife. The other knives appeared to have fallen to the floor at some point, and littered the area.
There was an opening into the front room. And through that door, Tapio could hear the thrum of the machine gun the loudest. Every so often a bullet would strike the sheet metal of the roof or walls, the sound sending a vibration through the whole building.
Tapio heard a crushing of broken glass. A footstep. He swung his rifle around, seeing a window on the far wall.
A scream erupted from the front doorway he was just looking at. In a few steps, a Rusviet warrior jumped over a metal table and charged. Tapio swung his rifle around, but the soldier's sword knocked it aside. The rifle went off, firing into the ceiling. The soldier's body slammed into Tapio's.
For a moment, Tapio was pushed back, into another table, and lost his footing. The Rusviet pushed aside Tapio's rifle, and raised his sword into the air with his right hand. Tapio adjusted his hands on his rifle and brought up the stock of his rifle. The sword came down on the stock hard, and Tapio was left straining against the force of the soldier.
The Rusviet's knee came up and got Tapio right in his thigh. The sudden assault on his muscle was extremely painful and almost caused his legs to buckle.
The soldier adjusted his own grip on Tapio's rifle and suddenly pulled up. The force ripped the rifle from the grasp of Tapio's weary, wet fingers and tossed it over his head.
Thinking fast, Tapio punched the soldier hard in his side, before grabbing his sword hand to attempt to twist it free. Tapio combined this with a sudden body check, and pushed off of the table. The two were locked, hand to hand, and Tapio pushed the soldier across the room into another table.
The Rusviet's grip was strong. Tapio actually feared he wouldn't be able to overpower him. Taking a chance, Tapio put both hands on the man's sword, and shoved upward. The sword dug into the wooden supports of the roof, and with Tapio's help, it sank deep enough to get stuck.
The soldier punched Tapio's side again, causing him to cry out audibly, but otherwise he struggled with the sword. Tapio reeled back his right fist, and slammed it into the soldier's face. The force took the Rusviet by surprise. He let go of his sword and attempted another swing. Tapio blocked this one, and sent a solid punch into the Rusviet's stomach.
The soldier gave out a war cry, and shoved himself into Tapio. Tapio grabbed him by his coat and pushed him to the side, being sure to stick out his leg as he did so. The Rusviet tripped, and fell to the floor, grasping at Tapio and threatening to bring him down too.
Tapio, instead forced the Rusviet to land on his back, and threw his weight down on his. Tapio freed his left arm, and proceeded to punch down on the Rusviet's face. He landed blow after blow, eventually causing the soldier to throw up his arms in self defense. Tapio continued to batter him, screaming as he did.
The Rusviet's knee jerked upwards, and Tapio found himself howling as pain engulfed his groin and shot straight up his back. His eyes watered and all the air was forced from his lungs and he was left gasping.
The soldier grabbed Tapio by the arms and tossed him aside. Tapio was left lying on the ground, gasping for air. He looked up at the ceiling. Stars and black dots dancing in his vision. His body did not want to move. He fought the urge to curl into a ball.
The Rusviet soldier fought to rise onto his knees, but he soon crawled on Tapio. In his hands was one of the cheap knives from the floor. He lunged, Tapio barely having time to catch his wrists in his hands.
The Rusviet gave out a battle cry, and positioned himself firmly on Tapio's stomach. His weight kept Tapio from taking deep breaths. He put both his hands on the knife handle, and shoved it toward Tapio's chest.
Tapio had both hands on the soldier's wrists. He fought against the soldier's full weight. Tapio could feel his labored breath from his yelling. His eyes were full of rage. Full of fury. Tapio pushed up with all his might against his murderous rage.
Tapio kicked up with his feet, but the soldier was impossible to hit so far above his waste. His knees hit harmlessly off his back. Tapio saw the blade of the knife come lower. And lower. His arms screamed with the effort exerted. Tapio's yell of battle was turning into a cry of desperation. He couldn't risk one of his scorching arms for a punch, as he was barely keeping the blade from lowering.
The soldier leaned further down. More of his weight being pressed down. Tapio gasped for air. His arms burning. His strength beginning to falter. He could feel each labored breath of the Rusviet soldier. His face, his glaring eyes, getting closer with each inch he leaned forward against the knife. Pushing. Pressing.
The blade was disappearing from sight. Tapio's heart was in his throat. He pushed back with all his energy, but to no avail.
Suddenly Tapio had an idea, and with one final push, feeling the knife bite into his clothes, Tapio threw his head forward with whatever might he could muster. His Spangenhelm slammed into the Rusviet's face, crunching his nose. The soldier's blood spurted out, and his cry of rage turned into exclamation.
The pressure on the knife was lifted after Tapio felt a bite in his peck. The soldier's left hand was brought up to his face. His face pulled back as he looked to the ceiling, trying to stop the bleeding.
Tapio grabbed the blade of the knife, his gloved hands offering some protection. With some effort, he twisted the knife, and it came loose from the soldier's grasp. Tapio barely registered flipping the knife around, before he closed his eyes, and thrust forward with the very last of his power.
The Soldier's groans of pain sharply stopped. He gurgled, and Tapio squeezed his eyes closed. The man's hands slapped Tapio's outstretched arm, and lightly attempted to push it back.
Tapio found himself letting go of the knife, and the Rusviet soldier fell back, slowly crawling away from Tapio.
Tapio rolled over onto his stomach, and attempted to lift himself up. Tapio's arms were screaming with pain. He couldn't. He was stuck. Exhausted. He looked over.
Despite the faint, ragged breaths of the soldier, he was frozen on the floor. His left arm was limp at his side, reaching out towards Tapio. His feet didn't stir. His chest didn't seem to rise or fall.
Tapio moved his head around, looking for his weapon in the room. His rifle landed not far off, and he closed his eyes, willing himself strength to go for it. After a few moments, the sound of the constant firing of a machine gun filled his ears.
The machine gun!
Tapio raised himself to his hands and knees, and crawled to where his rifle had landed. He picked it up, and examined it for damage. Seeing none, he used it to raise himself onto his feet. Turning around, he pointed the weapon at the fallen Rusviet, but he had stopped gurgling. A pool of his blood now surrounded his head.
Tapio, turned from the body and lifted his rifle, aiming it at the doorway from which the soldier had emerged. Slowly he walked around a table, before approaching the doorway into the front room.
As Tapio entered, he was greeted with the noise of the machine gun battering at his ears. The front room was once a market for the building. A counter was now shattered. Shelves and bins of wares were damaged and emptied. The entire front of the building had been knocked out, and it was now a heap of rubble with a roof hanging dangerously over it. One look around told you why.
A large mech lay in the rubble. It was a Jotunar, the very same one he had seen when they had visited before. It's body was a burnt out husk, scarring and a blast hole revealing where some form of heavy weapons damaged it. Inside, the charred remains of its pilot could just barely be made out. The one remaining arm lying lifelessly beside it.
Tapio raised his rifle. With each step, he carefully moved forward, inch by inch. He hoped the shadows of the building would mean that the Rusviet would not even see that he was inside. As he made his way forward, more of the street was revealed to him. One or two Nordic soldiers laid bleeding in the street. Bullets whizzed by from the machine gun and rifles alike. As he turned, he could spot where the sandbag barriers were.
And the machine gun came into view. Tapio slowly took aim, spotting the head of the gunner. He was moving the machine gun from one area to another. Desperately trying to hold back the momentum of the Nordic soldiers. At some point their position had been reinforced by more Rusviet soldiers, who fired from their sandbagged positions. Bullets pelted their cover, shattered windows behind them, and one hit its target, having him fall back into the arms of a comrade.
Tapio aimed at the gunner. He took a breath, and slowly began to release it. He squeezed the trigger.
His rifle barked, and the round caused the gunner to jerk his head back. The machine gun cut off as the gunner fell backwards.
Not waiting for another chance, Tapio lowered his rifle, and fumbled with retrieving his grenade. He quickly brought it up and yanked the pull cord. Taking a few steps toward the opening of the building front, Tapio threw the grenade underhand, watching as it arched up, and soared toward the machine gun nest. There a soldier struggled to pull the dead body aside, while another desperately reached for the handle of the machine gun.
Gunfire picked up. Nordic Troops cried out, and their rifles, light machine guns, and sub machine guns barked out in reply. Rusviets gave a cry of their own, and their firing also increased in frequency.
Through it all, the grenade arched, and fell to the street below. Tapio's heart sank when he saw it bounce off the cobblestones, and hit the sandbags in front of the next. It bounced around for a moment or two in front, being close to the gun, but not close enough.
The grenade went off, Rusviet soldiers yelled in surprise. dirt, sand, and debris were thrown into the air.
Tapio raised his rifle, racking the bolt and preparing for another shot. He waited, staring at where the machine gun was. Hoping the grenade was enough.
The machine gun fired from the debris, shooting wildly. Tapio fired into the smoke, aiming just behind where he saw the flame from the barrel. However the gun kept firing, and slowly it wobbled its firing path in the general direction of Tapio.
Tapio turned, and tried to quickly stumble back into the building. By the time the machine gun fire was ripping through the sheet metal walls, however, Tapio gave up on making it back to the door and he dived behind the remains of the old counter.
Tapio pressed himself there, as the machine gun raked the building. He pushed himself to a hunkered sitting position, and looked around.
He needed a new plan. He was out of grenades. If they didn't turn the tide soon, they would be lucky to be pushed back. Tapio listened to the gunfire and the yells and waited. He was pinned down, and had no idea how to move forward.