It felt like an eternity. Tapio huddled as bullets ripped past him. The roof shifted under the stress of the walls being ripped apart.
However, soon the machine gun fire was directed elsewhere. Tapio braved the trip to the back door, and found himself once more in the back room.
Returning to his feet, he staggered through the room and stretched, his body aching and crying for a rest. However he had to keep moving. His heart still raced. His eyes barely blinked. Everything seemed darker. Shadows all encompassing.
He navigated back to the alleyway he had left to find Nordic soldiers there. As he left the building, he saw that dawn was coming, the sky brightening with shades of pink and dark blue. This made the world around him look far darker, as if in the shadow of a massive god. Four wounded men were lying in a row. A soldier and Oscar knelt over them, pressing fabric to their wounds.
Two other soldiers stood around, their faces betraying their fear.
Tapio turned to head down the way, but decided against it, and turned back to the soldiers.
"You dying?"
"No, Aesir!"
"Then go around back this way," said Tapio, motioning towards the beach, "I don't want to get flanked. We had troops enter that way. I want to make sure they are all set. If they are in bad shape, fall back to a position where you can better cover this flank. "
Tapio turned and walked towards the main road. He trusted the soldiers needed direction to dislodge their fear and allow their training to take over. With gunfire and explosions filling the air around them, fear was a problem they needed to deal with quickly.
Heading to look over the street, Tapio was disheartened. Nordic soldiers hunkered down behind cover. A few men managed to blindly fire over their barriers. The Hersir was now laying in the street, she appeared bloody.
"The Hersir!" shouted Tapio over the din, "Is she dead?"
"We don't know, sir," said a nearby sergeant, "She charged during the lull, but the Rusviet started firing so quickly!"
"We need to recover the wounded," said Aesir Tapio, "We need to suppress the Rusviet-"
"Sir, we cannot," said the sergeant, "More Rusviet soldiers are making their way down the streets. They are reinforcing! If they make a push, we will be pushed back."
"There is nowhere to be pushed back to," said Tapio, "This is it. We hold here, or we retreat."
"We need support, Aesir," said the Sergeant, "If they reinforce, we are outnumbered!"
Tapio took another look. The machine gun continued to fire, and sure enough more Rusviet forces were setting up positions around the town hall.
"We're in trouble," said Tapio.
"There's no chance if we cannot dislodge them from the town center," said the sergeant, "What are your orders?"
"My orders?"
"You are the Aesir," said the sergeant, "If the Hersir is dead, you are in command."
Tapio looked back down the side of the building, at the men there. If they retreated, Hammakko would truly be lost, for now, and the advance would continue. However, every moment they pushed back at the Rusviet force was time lost for their regroup, fortification, and continued march as well as giving the relief force much needed time to reach their objectives.
Tapio looked to the wounded. He saw Oscar, looking afraid and hurrying around. He sighed, shaking his head.
"Sergeant, did Sergeant Oran Kristiansen survive?"
"I don't know, I lost track of him when we came ashore," said the Sergeant, "But there are two other groups pinned down down the harbor and I can still hear them fighting."
"Alright, Sergeant," said Tapio, "Organize a retreat. Let's try to get the wounded out. Ensure Private Pederson helps and if necessary goes on ahead with a report of what happened here. You need to inform the relief team of what happened."
"Aesir Virtanen," said the sergeant, "I'm sorry, but I must ask what about you?"
"I'll give the call," said Tapio, "We're pushing forward. We'll buy you as much time as we can."
"With respect, Aesir Virtanen," said the sergeant, "I must decline. I will be staying."
"Sergeant, I-"
"I will be staying," said the sergeant, "I'll organize the retreat, but when the call comes I will be there."
Tapio nodded, "Alright,let's get a group together."
Tapio gave the order, and volunteers were attempted to be gathered for the motion. Whatever grenades were left were passed around to those staying. However, the push was beginning. Rusviet gunfire was raining down on them so quickly that it sounded like multiple heavy machine guns firing at the same time.
Tapio was left kneeling down behind the building, and waiting to give the order. His heartbeat was not even noticeable. Was it too fast? Was it stopped? He didn't know. He secured his helm. His rifle was fully loaded, but he was running low. In the end, he felt like he was putting off the charge.
They had barely started to move some of the wounded. Tapio was saddened to see several wounded being propped up, helms on and weapons in hand, awaiting to fight to the last man. They were preparing themselves to go down fighting. To the last man.
Tapio filled his lungs. He steadied his hands. He felt… a calm.
"The halls of Valholl await," said Tapio, "To Valholl!"
The call rang out around him, "To Valholl!"
"To Valholl!"
A crash. The crumbling of bricks. Scraping of stone on stone.
A brick house next to the workshop exploded. A Nordic soldier barely had time to dive from his cover as the front of the building caved over. Dust and debris was thrown into the street.
A Stridsvalker took its final step from the debris and stopped itself at the end of the street. The turret moved from side to side, taking in the scene.
"Send them to Hel!" came the metallic sounding voice from the mech's PA system.
The machine gun opened up. First the mech fired into the machine gun nest. Despite the team firing back, the onslaught was quick and more efficient. Soon the nest went silent, and surrounding soldiers laid dead.
The mech slowly swept the length of the sandbag barrier. The Rusviet's yelled and hunkered for cover. Bullets pinged off the mech's armor, but its pullets shredded sandbags and Rusviet soldiers were cut down.
And there was a battle cry. Nordic soldiers rose from their cover and began to fire. Grenades were armed and thrown. Tapio smiled, and cried out with them. He raised his rifle and ran around the corner. Taking aim, he fired his rifle.
The sudden onslaught took the Rusviet forces by surprise. Soldiers were cut down quickly. A few soldiers tried to work together to drag the bodies of their fallen comrades back up the lines. A few soldiers outright ran away, risking the fire of the enemy to escape up the small streets.
Tapio made his way to the body of Hersir Larson. The shots from desperate Rusviet whizzed past him. The fire from the mech rained above him in the opposite direction.
When he reached her body, however, she sprung up. She raised her sub machine gun in one hand and tossed a grenade with the other, giving off a battle cry.
"We thought you were dead!" said Tapio.
"So did they," she said, "Quickly now, we must advance while we have them by surprise! Advance!"
"Yes, my Hersir," yelled Tapio, before shouting to the men, "All able-bodied soldiers, charge!"
The soldiers sprang from cover, and fired into the confused Rusviet lines. They were able to quickly make their ways up the street, and soon they were leaping over the barrier, fighting whoever was left in close combat.
Tapio turned to the mech, which was carefully making its way down the street.
The metallic voice over a speaker system sounded out again, "Happy to see me again, eh Aesir Virtanen?"
"You couldn't have made it any later?" asked Tapio, "What kind of a blacksmith are you?"
"One of the bravest, for sure," said Moller, again, "I have sergeant Haggardson assisting the blacksmith and the villagers out the back of the workshop with his mech. Private Gaski is drawing the Rusviet fire from the North to give them time."
"Good thinking!" said Hersir Larson, "Then we must reinforce him! We need to push up the center and take that town hall, even if it means toppling it into debris. We'll use their own fortifications against them, we can draw a line and either hold out here or push them out of the city entirely!"
"We will have to act fast," said Tapio, starting his walk toward the fighting, "Enough talk!"
"I am here and will support you!" shouted Moller as the mech followed.
"Charge!" yelled Larson, "For King and Kingdom!"
"To Val-"
Something struck the cobblestones between the Hersir and Tapio. There was an immediate explosion, and Tapio found himself wrenched from his feet and skidding across the ground. He was showered in dirt and debris, pelted by stones and shrapnel.
Tapio's body screamed. His heart raced. He struggled to right himself, but he soon found himself at his side, looking around. Hersir Larson had been thrown as well, into the brick wall of another house. She lay motionless on the ground. The Stridsvalker was backing up, slowly. Its machine gun was firing at something.
"KOLOKOL!" shouted Moller's metallic voice, "Fire! Fire!"
Tapio turned. Stomping up one of the side roads was a Rusviet mech. Each step, forcefully taken.
The Rusviet Kolokol was a menacing machine. It's body looked like it was being propped up by two arm/legs, walking steadily down. The legs were attached near the top, their joints armored with "shoulder pads" called pauldrons. It had a small viewport, where an operator sat and guided the mech. A spotlight was mounted on the left side of the front of the mech, and even in the dawn light it cast a fierce beam illuminating the ground in front of it. On the top of the mech, however, was its deadly weapon. A flywheel launcher was already spinning and whirring, ready to fire.
With a whir, it launched another impact grenade. It soared through the air, over Tapio's head. It slammed into Moller's mech. The grenade exploded, shuttering the mech.
"We cannot take another hit like that!" yelled Moller, "We need to pull back!"
"Tapio pulled himself up to his feet. He saw that some of the Nordic troops were pushed back, and the Rusviet troops were regrouping with the mech and pushing forward to retake their fortifications.
"We need to take out that mech!" ordered Tapio, "Concentrate your fire!"
"We aren't getting through that armor!" yelled Moller," We need to- BRACE! BRACE!"
The mech shot another grenade, and it went too high. Missing the Stridsvalker and slamming into a building. Moller's Stridsvalker began taking steps backward, the machine gun raking the Kolokol.
"Shoot it in the viewport!" yelled Tapio, who raised his rifle.
He fired a shot. The bullet was easily rebuffed off its front armor. Cursing, Tapio decided to help with the infantry so others could attack the mech.
He lifted the bolt of his rifle to reload. Instantly he noticed resistance. It felt like metal scraping metal. When he went to pull back the bolt to release the casing, the bolt jammed a little ways back. Tapio cursed, and struggled with the bolt.
Another grenade flew overhead. This one missed the Stridsvalker's turret, and hit a back portion of the chassis. The engine sputtered, and the rear right leg gave out.
The Stridsvalker shuttered, and anguished yells could be heard from inside. The turret continued to fire, but it was sporadic, and the operator struggled to keep the gun steady. Before Tapio could react, another grenade was rushing through the air, and slammed right into the front of the mech.
The Stridsvalker hiccuped and sputtered. With black smoke starting to spill from its openings, the mech lurched forward. Like a fainting dog, it plowed into the cobblestones and ceased to move. The engine exhaust coughed up flames, and the engine screeched to a halt. The machine gun went silent.
Tapio's heart froze. They were down a mech, and the Rusviet forces were up one. Every minute they waited, another mech was on its way.
They had to take out that Kolokol. He needed more explosives. Or a launcher.
Oscar!
Tapio turned and began to uneasily jog back the way he had come. He could now see the broken, smoldering mech as it began to catch fire. The turret operator had climbed out of the hatch, and was working to pry open the main operator's hatch to save Moller.
Kneeling beside the wreckage, Captain Liam MacLean fired his rifle, quickly and easily racking the bolt with each shot. He acknowledged Tapio, and Tapio gave him a nod back that he hoped said 'I'll be back'.
"Pederson!" shouted Tapio, "Private Pe-"
The bullet struck into his back. His left shoulder immediately engulfed in a flame of heat and pain. His lungs were depleted of air. Tapio felt panic. His legs went limp. He felt his boot scrape the ground, and eventually trip him up. Soon, he was falling to the dirt, his arms unable or unwilling to break his fall.
Tapio hit the dirt hard. He tasted blood, and he barely had the mind to close his eyes. His back was cast into immense pain. He struggled to move, his mouth gasping for air.
Tapio fan through his head a list of feelings. He could still breathe, he wasn't drowning. It did not puncture his lungs. His heart was still banging like a massive bass drum in his ears and in his throat. At the moment, his heart had not stopped. He moved his right arm, and was able to prop himself up. He tried to move his left arm, a flurry of pain rushing up his back into his neck. He could feel it in his eyeballs.
He had been shot.
He heard shouting around him. Somewhere another grenade was shot and exploded. His thoughts were brought back to the Kolokol. If he could get to his feet, he could walk. If he could still walk, he could find Oscar, and use his launcher to take down the mech.
A hand gripped his shoulder and pulled. Tapio thought he was being lifted, and rose to his feet. However a swift kick to the back of his knee saw him buckle. A hand on his chest pushed him back down to the ground.
Tapio raised his head to see. A first slammed into his face guard on his Spangenhelm. Tapio went limp. He allowed his head to fall backward. A Rusviet soldier swore above him, waving his hand in pain from the punch.
The soldier glared down at Tapio. Fury filled his eyes. The soldier removed Tapio's helm, allowing it to fall beside him. Tapio tried to gurgle something, but he found himself too tired. Too fatigued. All he could do was breathe. His body just wanted to breathe.
The soldier punched him again, snapping his head sideways with the force of the blow. Before Tapio could react, another punch slammed into his face. He said something in his language. Under his own grunts and gasps for air. Tapio couldn't understand him. He barely recognized the soldier's own bloodied face and cuts.
The soldier yelled something, punching even harder. Tapio saw his vision begin to speckle with black dots. Tapio tried to raise his right fist. The soldier easily batted it aside and landed another punch.
He began speaking again. He yelled something. Tapio looked at him. His energy was gone. Tapio was so tired.
"Finish it," mumbled Tapio, "I..."
The soldier sat straight up, he began screaming and yelling. But this time was different. He was howling, in pain. His hands seemed to jerk. They were unsure how best to proceed.
The man convulsed again, and tried to look behind him. An axe was there to greet him.
Tapio closed his eyes. He didn't see the hit, but he heard the thump. The body went slack, before someone pushed it aside all together. Whoever it was was yelling. A war cry. A real cry? It sounded more frightened than warrior-like.
Tapio's eyes reopened. He looked to someone patting him on the face.
"Wake up, wake up," Oscar knelt next to him.
His eyes were wide, he was as pale as could be. Blood splattered his face, and he was shaking heavily.
"Oscar," Tapio said, before he felt a kick of energy.
His heart was beating rapidly again. His energy returned. Like lightning from the god of thunder himself, Tapio quickly sat up.
"I... I killed him," said Oscar, "We got to go, sir. It's not safe. You're shot!"
In his hands was a bloodied axe. Oscar was limply holding it. But Tapio looked around earnestly for his launcher.
"Your launcher, man," said Tapio, a little surprised by his raspy voice, "Where?"
"My... what?"
"The launcher, man," said Tapio, "Bring it to me! Kolokol!"
Oscar looked to the mech, and then over back where he was hiding behind the building.
"Sir, I... I don't know if I can."
"Be brave!" said Tapio, "Dig deep. Grab hold of your fear. Kill it! With an axe! We need your launcher, now. Everybody is at risk. I must have it."
"Sir, we have to leave!" Oscar helped Tapio up and began walking back the way they had come, "The line is fracturing! They are being reinforced and we are not. We have lost a walker!"
"This cannot be helped! This is why we are here," said Tapio, "Listen to me! You've done well. You've proven yourself. It's time for you to go and give word of our defeat. Give me your launcher!"
"No!" said Oscar, "Is it really that important?"
"Yes!" said Tapio, "Every little bit we do here is important, or it's all for nothing. All the death. All this destruction. It means nothing if we cannot slow them down!"
"Fine," said Oscar, thrusting something into Tapio's good hand.
It was heavy. Looking down, Tapio could see it was his Spangenhelm. He looked up to Oscar, who had rushed to the side of the building, before pulling out his launcher where he had stashed it.
Tapio struggled, but managed to put on his Spangenhelm straight. He held out a hand to Oscar.
"Now give it to me. Go and send word to the army. Tell them to come quickly, or not at all."
"No," said Oscar, "You cannot aim it. You can barely hold it. You can barely stand. I need to be the one to do it."
"You'll get yourself killed," said Tapio.
"I can't aim it here," said Oscar, "We need to get closer."
Tapio took off, down the war torn street. Tapio's adrenaline kicked in, and he reached out for him.
"No!"
Tapio took off at a fast pace. He followed him weaving through smashed carts and burning stalls as they made their way to the horrific front line.
Nordic Soldiers were being pushed back. They fired desperately into sandbags only a few meters away where Rusviet hunkered down. The Kolokol towered over them. It slowly aimed up and down the Nordic lines, picking its targets, before firing a grenade and blasting away a group of men or a bit of cover.
Tapio approached where Oscar had decided to hide. He aimed his launcher, his hands shaking. Tapio grunted behind him.
"Easy, now. Steady your hand. Pick your target. Aim slightly higher. Breathe. No, big breaths. Steady breaths. Exhale completely. Control your fear. Feel it. Let it flow, but you must be the one in control."
"The leg?" asked Oscar.
"If you could make that shot, yes. But that would be a skillful shot," said Tapio, "Aim higher. Where the leg meets the body. If we can damage the mechanism, we can give the others a fighting chance."
"Alright," said Oscar, "How do I know?"
"Be sure," said Tapio, "Feel it. See it. Steady your body. Breathe. Then you choose."
The Kolokol turned to its right, firing a shot. It had its side exposed to them.
"Now-"
On the 'W' Oscar had already chosen to fire. The launcher shot out a grenade, and it soared right at the Kolokol. The shot hit squarely in the side, exploding against its armor. The glass of the lamp shattered, and that light went out. Oscar gasped, stepping back.
"What now?" he said.
The Kolokol turned its body, the mech aiming vaguely in their direction.
"We move!" shouted Tapio.
Oscar grabbed him and pushed him through a low hanging door. They were cast into a darkness, but through the front room they could see the remains of a bedroom in the back that was missing a large section of wall.
Behind them, the ruined stall they were in exploded with the impact of a grenade. Debris and smoke spilled into the building.
The old, brick building moaned and shook, bricks and stones raining from above. Tapio picked up his pace, to the discomfort of his entire body. They ran to the back room as the building began to fall around them.
Oscar made it out first, waiting just at the lip to usher Tapio through. Both dived down in front to the greeting of bullets turning the brick wall next to them into dust.
They found themselves in some sort of yard. They were immediately separated from the center of town battle by only a single stone building. Where they hid had once been an area for outdoor cooking, a small patch that appeared to be a big pen, and the remains of a chicken coop. This area had now been repurposed as a fortification, the scraps of wood being pressed against a short stone wall. Across the way they could see a destroyed shed and crumbling well. Across the open expanse, a solid, modern brick building where Rusviet soldiers had fortified and were currently firing from windows and a hole in the wall at the Nordic Soldier.
The nordic soldiers amounted to two riflemen, a dead body, and a machine gunner with an LMG. The gunner looked at the group, a smile spreading on his bloodied beard.
"Aesir? Tapio?" Oran said, "It's about time you joined the fight. You look like hell!"
"He's been shot," said Oscar, "We must take down the Kolokol!"
"Private Pederson! I am glad you've survived this long," said Oran, "Sadly, we are in no condition to take down a mech! I am on my last mag, and these two are on less than a handful of bullets each. I am afraid we charge, or we retreat."
"We need to retreat," said Tapio, groaning with the strain, "Hersir Larson may be dead. We lost a mech. One has already retreated with the villagers. Another is unknown. We are outgunned."
Oscar popped open his launcher, the shell falling out. He smiled, and dug into his satchel for another grenade.
"What are you doing?" said Tapio, "We cannot risk another shot. We are out of time. They will kill you the moment we step out of cover."
"I need to have one shot," said Oscar, "One more shot. Did you see its shooty bits?"
"What?" asked Tapio.
"There's a whole rack of grenades," said Oscar, "Just waiting to be shot."
"At you!"
"Unless I can hit them first!" said Oscar, "If I can hit that magazine, the whole load might explode."
"And take it down from the inside," smiled Oran, "Woah, Pederson. I like you. Can you hit that thing?"
"I don't know, it's a tough shot," said Oscar.
"It's an impossible shot," said Tapio, "We might as well be discussing getting a rifle shot into the viewport!"
Oscar chanced a peek, looking around before ducking back down.
"There's a ladder over there," said Oscar, "It leads to the roof. If I can make it to that, I could have a better vantage point on the mech!"
"You're crazy," said Oran, "These Rusviet soldiers will cut you down."
"Not if you cover me," said Oscar.
"No," said Tapio, "Over here, in this alley. I will lift you. Oran, I need you and these men to cover us the best you can."
"You are crazy!" said Oran, "We need to retreat."
"Cover us," said Tapio, "Make it a real good show. Then, get out of here. Regroup at the end of the main road, there's Moller's mech. Ensure everyone can retreat safely."
"What about you?" said Oran.
"We will be successful," said Tapio, "Or dead."
Oscar looked at Tapio. His face showed his fear. However, his eyes looked determined. In a few moments of thought, he set his jaw and frowned in determination. Tapio nodded.
"Good luck," said Oran.
"I shall save you a seat in the great halls," said Tapio.
Oran smiled, "I have no interest in sitting at the crazy table. I'll make my own way."
Tapio raised to a crouch, and Oscar got ready. They nodded to each other, before Oscar said they were ready. Oran and the other two grabbed a chunk of brick each. Oran shouted out the Rusviet word for grenade and all three chucked the rubble over. Following, Oran raised, and began firing with his light machine gun. The other two raised as well, and fired more controlled shots.
Tapio did his best to run, but after jumping the barricade, he realized just how much of his energy had been sapped by his wounds. Oscar quickly overtook him, and ran for the alley. Gunfire erupted.
In only a moment, Oscar found himself safe in the cover of the stone building, and Tapio was short behind as gunfire followed him. The two men took a second to breathe. Down at the end they could see debris covering them up. However they could still hear the sounds of battle from the center of town.
Tapio looked up at the roof of the building, and he braced himself against the wall.
"Once you do this, there is no going back," said Tapio, "You do not have to do this."
"I have to," said Oscar, "It is our only chance at escape. It's our only chance at victory."
"We've lost too many men," said Tapio, "Victory is not for us this day. However, if you can do this... you could save lives."
Oscar nodded. Tapio slid down the wall, creating a platform with his legs. They threatened to give out on him, but he forced them to steady. He placed his good hand on his lap, and nodded to Oscar. Oscar put up his foot, and waited.
Then he whispered to count to three. Oscar leapt up just as Tapio rose and lifted. His back burst into pain and tearing. He groaned with the effort, and it slowly turned into a howl of pain. However, he was able to lift Oscar above him, and Oscar grabbed hold of the roof and pulled himself up.
Oscar's foot left Tapio's hand, and Tapio was left alone, with Oscar clutching for dear life on a roof. Oscar slowly made his way down the roof, and Tapio clenched his jaw.
They had one shot at this. Tapio silently prayed he had not just allowed that young man to get himself killed.