Okay, thanks to some advice (plus I found my old Warhip Gunner collection) I'm returning to focus to Joshua and Tellanos for the moment. I had to come up with a purpose for the change so please let me know what you think.
Plus, I shall soon be posting the chapters of World Fury to DeviantART. Please take a look when you get the chance.
Just for clarity, in case no one reads the tech guide but wants to know the planes counterparts, the CF-32 is the F6 Hellcat, the CF-33 is the F8 Bearcat, and the P-30-4N is the twin-engine F7 Tigercat that was built for carrier use.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 46: Werner's Confession
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The steamtruck slowed to a stop outside the pilot's barracks. Bertram leapt out of the back of the truck with a sigh of relief and waved his thanks to the driver as he started the truck back up and left the base. Turning around he saw the others of his wing laughing and smiling as he approached. Dieter came up beside him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"That was one hell of a fight Bertram. Not only did we manage to take out all the V1s and V2s, we even defeated an entire wing of the 666th. I'll bet Marks has to be pretty steamed by now." Bertram nodded.
"Plus, we got their aces. By the way, did anyone see what happened to Kiln after I was forced to disengage?" Dieter's smile wavered and he sighed.
"Unfortunately we didn't get the bastard. As soon as he had his chance, he turned tail and ran like his ass was on fire, which, judging by the way his engine was smoking, it might have been. Still, you took down one of Rotiart's Top Five without much difficulty although I don't think they'll let you claim it because of the bus. That and the fact that you lost your jet." Bertram sighed.
"It's a miracle they haven't demoted me yet. First the bomber over Avalon, then my incident over Peninsula City, and now I lost another aircraft, a jet of all things, by flying too close to a tornado." Dieter laughed good-naturedly.
"Don't you worry about that. If they did demote you, then I'd have to take your place. I can think of fewer things sitting well with the brass and the nobles than a Rotarian defector leading a wing of Syllia's finest. Plus, don't worry about the jet, in war, things happen. You'll just have to sit a while until a new one is issued to you." Bertram nodded and then walked over to the group. Suddenly, there was a commotion from the barracks as Voss came out pale as a sheet.
"Boss, I can't find Werner anywhere!" Dieter immediately became worried. He noticed the others' curious expressions and explained.
"You know how every pilot has a good luck charm? Well, since Voss knows griffonspeak and has been teaching Werner human language, it has become a habit to sit down and talk with one another. Plus, well... that little ball of fluff and feathers held a special place in my squadron back in Rotiart. He was our mascot and our good luck charm. Every time we sortied, we'd pet him before getting to our planes and we'd pet him when we returned. We even kept feathers he'd lost in our coats, an old Rotarian belief of good luck and fortune." Voss nodded but kept looking around worriedly.
"Still, I'm the only family Werner has left. His parents were killed when he was just six years old. My father and I took him back home to Tenret and he was brought up with the family. When it came time for me to join up, I brought Werner with me and Dieter allowed him to stay at the base since it would have been another twelve years before he was big enough to join the Griffon Corps." Bertram nodded that he understood but felt curiousity gnawing at him as he sent the wing to search for Werner. He, Dieter, and Voss were searching together when he decided to ask.
"Voss, how did Werner's parents die?" Voss glowered as he remembered.
"It was a few months before Mechanos ordered remilitarization. The dread griffons always flew patrols around the griffon colonies every few months or so. But this time when the group arrived they were particularly nasty and rude. They wanted to know which den held Werner's family and the watch officer, curse him, sent them right to their front door so to speak. There was a commotion that was heard all over the mountainside and even down in the village and when it was done, the dread griffons left, although their mood hadn't improved much. It was... I don't know as if they had expected to find something but didn't..." Voss took a moment to steady himself and look around the Mess Hall, Werner's favorite place for getting snacks from the cooks, sighed and came back.
"A while later, my father and I went up to the caverns and found them, dead, with Werner trembling in another nearby cave. He was so scared he leapt into my arms and stayed they, crying, until we brought him back home. He was too little to know how to speak the human tongue then so I don't know if he heard anything but even when I've asked him he never says anything about it. I think he'd prefer to forget all about it if he could. The only real friend he had was old Tivars, the griffon elder of that community. Strangely enough, Tivars disappeared around the same time and hasn't been seen or heard from since."
Bertram was about to ask more when suddenly they saw Kani running for the full speed.
"Found him! He's over by the Dracocorps field!" Voss immediately paled and broke into a dead sprint towards the fields. He knew that griffons and dragons never saw eye to eye and was worried at what they would think of a baby griffon wandering around.
Bertram, Dieter and Kani managed to keep up (barely) as they reached the field. Bertram prepared to shift in case he needed to intervene but as they closed in on where Kani had said she saw him, they were greeted by the sound of laughter. As they came around the Dragoon barracks, they stopped and Voss released a tremendous sigh of relief.
Several Dragoons were looking over Werner with immense curiousity as well as several dragons. Even Zakwel was there turning his head this way and that watching as Werner entertained himself with a leather ball the Dragoons used to practice grenade throws. He would bat it one way, leap, hover for a moment and pounce on it, then repeat the process in the opposite direction as well, then he'd filp onto his back and start kicking it around with his hind legs up into the air in an arcing motion until he missed on and it rolled away. Then he righted himself and pounced again. One of the senior Dragoons, Captain Mercer, spotted Voss and waved him over.
"No wonder you flyboys are always in good spirits, you have this little fellow to keep your spirits up. I have to admit, it's refreshing to see a griffon that isn't coming at you intent on fighting. Plus, it does the young ones good to see that even griffons start out as younglings. How old is he?" Voss visibly relaxed and smiled.
"He's about seven now. He'll be eight in summer." Mercer nodded.
"Are his parents among the enemy?" Voss shook his head and relayed what he had told Bertram to them about the dread griffons. Several dragons looked pitifully at Werner while others seethed indignantly.
"So, they not only go after our young; they attack, kill, and cannibalize their own kind?" Voss shook his head.
"No, gold and dread griffons are actually two different species of griffons. There was also a third species of griffon but sadly they went extinct around six-thousand years ago. They were called silver griffons. Even though they fight for Rotiart, dread and gold griffons have as much animosity towards each other as dragons do towards dread griffons. The golds only tolerate the dread patrols because they do it for the 'sake of national security'. Although, they don't seem to care that much about it these days." Mercer looked at Voss curiously.
"So, what was Rotiart like? We hear about it in the history books but little else is known." Voss, grateful for the distraction, took a seat and began to speak.
"Rotiart is a land that, at first glance is inhospitable, but in fact is quite fertile. To the north she is protected by the Arctic Mountains, and to the south is the Belt of Fire, a string of volcanoes. Ash from the volcanoes mixes with sediment from the mountain runoff and creates fertile farmland. The winters are harsh but people learned a long time ago to accept the world for what it was and live their lives as best they could. Believe it or not, it wasn't until a few thousand years ago Rotiart became a human-ruled nation." Catching a few glances, Voss explained.
"Rotiart isn't all that different from Syllia with the exception that while Syllia was always a human-ruled nation, up until the Imperial Wars with Praetoria, Rotiart was ruled by griffons but humans were seen as equals. The third species I spoke of, the silvers, they were the ruling species. Gold griffons and their human knights kept the lands safe from foreign or national threats. The silver griffons had their King, we humans had a Chancellor who was the King's closest confidant. Both species, griffon and human, had their nobles houses and commoners." He paused for a moment as if contemplating something and sighed.
"If I had ever spoken of this in Rotiart, dread griffons would have hunted me down and killed me without mercy, pity, or a second glance. But here... I believe it is time. Roughly six-thousand years ago, when Rotiart was said to be at it's most powerful, a new griffon species was discovered in the northern wastes. They had feathers as black as coal, eyes that shown blood red, and a temperment that rivaled even volcanoes. These were the original dread griffons. In the griffon communities, a secret is passed, that it was the introduction of the dread griffons that caused the decline of, and eventual extinction, the silver griffons." More than a few Syllians gasped at this and Voss nodded sadly.
"The last griffon king, Tharsis the White, a griffon so ancient that his feathers and fur had turned from silver to white, passed away on the Night of Flames. It was said that the volcanoes in the south all erupted at once, bathing the south fields in flames when the king took his last breath." Voss saw Dieter's eyes go wide and he nodded.
"In Rotiart, children are not taught this for the first human Emperor, Magnus the First, a human who surrounded himself with dread griffons as his person guards, declared it treasonous. However, there is a tale that has been spread down through the griffon communities and to the humans near them as well." Voss took a moment to remember the story correctly before he cleared his throat and began to speak.
"In time, a silver griffon shall again walk the earth, and lead Rotiart back from the darkness and once more into the light. With the aid of those noble few who stay the course and face the darkness with valor, honor, and unwavering love for their country, those who fly in shadows and haunt the night shall be vanquished, driven back from whence they came, and Rotiart shall once more know peace." Bertram went wide-eyed as he heard that and waited for Voss to compose himself as he saw his friend will waver, and a scowl come upon his face.
"However, that story, though ancient, is likely false... The silver griffons are extinct... and there is no reviving them... I fear this war will bring about the end of my homeland, and I am prepared to go to my grave cursing and damning the names of those who started Rotiart on it's long march to destruction." Wolff placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, obviously speaking about these things was not something Voss did lightly. Once again, Voss took a few breaths before speaking again.
"There had been a few, well, more than a few rumors or sightings of a silver griffon. An isolated incident where a child finds a silver feather or some hiker finds shed fur that appears to be silver in color. Almost right on the heels of such sightings come the dread griffons. Whether they are true sightings or not, those monsters don't take any chances."
"Neesa."
Voss looked up suddenly at Werner standing before him, staright as an arrow, all previous playfulness gone. Nor was Werner the only shocked one. It was common knowledge that Werner didn't really speak to anyone except for Voss and that was when there was no one around. To have him speak human language aloud and in public was almost as surprising as having a bucket of ice water dumped over one's head.
"W-Werner? What did you say?"
"Neesa." The little griffon repeated. Voss quickly looked to him.
"Do you mean Te-Neesa? That's griffonspeak for Gold Griffon." The last was directed to those around him.
"Neesa." Voss paled.
"Re-Neesa? Dread griffons?!" Voss immeditely rose, grabbed a nearby pair of binoculars and started scanning the skies, as did the dragons and the Dragoons. Once they were sure nothing was in the sky except clouds, Voss looked back to him.
"Neesa." Werner said again, this time sharper, more urgently. Voss then remembered something and knelt to him, his breath catching.
"Are you trying to say La-Neesa? Silver griffons?" Werner suddenly shook his head.
"La-Nee." Voss slapped his head.
"Of course, 'Nee' is singular while 'Neesa' is plural. Yes Werner, I was speaking about a La-Nee." Werner shook his head in confirmation.
"La-Nee. Sibor." The others looked to him curiously; Voss translated.
"Sibor... Sister? Silver griffon... Sister?" Werner jerked his head in affermative and started speaking in halting, yet quick phrases in griffonspeak. All the while, Voss' eyes widened, his mouth suddenly hung open in shock. Dieter tapped him on the shoulder, getting his attention. Voss took a deep breath and started translating what Werner had just told him.
"Griffons don't advertise when they're expecting. They prefer to let it be a surprise to see a new little griffon fluttering about. Werner says that he has a younger sister. She was born, about a week before the incident. A griffon named Kavel came into their den mistakenly one night while his parents slept, caught sight of the young one, and fled before Werner could sound the alarm. He had promised his parents to never, ever, speak of his sister until she was big enough to protect herself. He didn't know what was so special about her, until I just told you this story. Werner's sister, is a silver griffon."
Dieter and Wolff were thunderstruck. Voss suddenly looked anguished as it hit him like a bolt from the blue.
"That's what they were after! Those dread griffons were after Werner's sister... but... they... they didn't get her! Of course! The elder would be told of newborns the moment it happens! That's why Tivars vanished, Werner's father must have known what was happening and asked Tivars to protect the child!" He turned back to Werner.
"Is there anything else? What direction did Tivars take your sister?" Werner looked at him with huge eyes and gave a small smile.
"Eay." Voss rose.
"East. Into Tellanos. Not six months after that, Mechanos orders the Rotarian Army to march into Tellanos, and orders the Navy to cooperate with Callinar to attack Syllia." Mercer went wide-eyed.
"That's what this war was started over? A silver griffon that escaped the dread griffons and fled into Tellanos?" Voss shrugged.
"It's not that simple. Silver griffons are the only griffons that can naturally use magic. They don't have an element like dragons do but they can cast spells to defend themselves, or others, and like light dragons, have a strong dislike for anything corrupt or evil. If it ever became public that there was a silver griffon, the people would demand Mechanos' relinquish power. He may have tried to stifle it, but our history tells of a golden age when the griffons ruled with a kind and compassionate hand. Not like the iron fist of the humans who supplanted them." Dieter nodded.
"And if Mechanos tried to kill one after it's existance was revealed, it would start a civil war the likes of which has not been seen since ancient times." Wolff spoke next.
"The Church may not have as much power as it once did thanks to Mechanos trying to break it apart, but many of the clergy and indeed our oldest sacred texts tell of griffons who carried the soldiers of the Lord into battle against evil. The Church would not allow Mechanos to remain in power. The military however... there are those who still believe in honor and those who have essentially sold their souls for rank, power, and prestige. It would create a great rift forming along the lines of personal belief and their oaths to Mechanos."
"Most would believe that such a rift would give them permission to disavow their oaths to Mechanos and they would join the Church to rise against him. Others would see it as an opportunity to garner favor with him and vindicate past wrongs and old grudges." Voss picked up from there.
"The dread griffons wouldn't think twice about invading Tellanos to seek out a silver; but Tivars didn't become elder by being predictable or slow-witted. He likely avoided places he knew they'd search first such as mountains, or perhaps cliff faces. But in Tellanos, his options would be limited... Being as old as he was, he wouldn't be able to fly far with a small child. A few miles at a time at best. He would need to stop and hunt, drink and a young griffon, she would need to eat several times a day, four maybe five. He would need a place that would be out of range of the dread griffons, a place that even Mechanos would avoid unless there was no other recourse." Mercer placed a hand on his chin thoughtfully.
"The largest cliff face and mountain in Tellanos would be Grand Vista, the birthplace of the Federal Navy. But Mechanos dropped one of them Ragnarok bombs on the city a few weeks after he bombed Lavonshire. If they were there, they could be dead by now." Voss shook his head.
"No, Grand Vista may be perfect but it's a large military facility. Too exposed. He'd need a place that's secluded... Wait a minute! Isn't there a mountain range that forms the border of Tellanos and Schildhaven?" Mercer jumped.
"By God, you're right! Pine Mountain! A small fishing village...uh... Cardis, is there! He'd have seclusion, plentiful food, and plus many of the people in Cardis are believed to be a little crazy with being isolated. So no one would really take them seriously. There's just one problem, Mechanos invaded Schildhaven without a second thought. Cardis and Pine Mountain are now behind enemy lines."
Bertram, who up to this point had been silent. Looked up.
"There's the Fifth Fleet. They are currently shored up at Peninsula City, safeguarding the landing vessels that are continuously bringing in supplies and troops to bolster the forces in that area. I'm sure that if I can plead the case to Father that he could be persuaded to do something." Mercer looked to him.
"Do what exactly? Open up a new theatre of war? Do you have any idea the logistics such an operation would require? It's taking all we have to hold the lines where they are. We cannot spare the manpower to open up a third front."
"You won't have to."
Everyone turned at the new voice and saw pilots wearing the uniform Bertram recognized as that of the Tellanian Federal Air Force. Mercer looked to him curiously.
"What exactly do you mean by that friend?" The Federation pilot looked at him then to Voss.
"The Tellanian Army may be down but it is not out. Every day we hear reports of brave Partisans and holdout Amry groups risking their lives to save our Motherland. If finding this silver griffon would bring about a quicker end to Rotarian occupation, then you have my support and the support of all loyal sons and daughters of Tellanos. I ask that you present this evidence to the Tellanian Council here in Royalis and let them speak with your King. If we can get permission for transfer, we shall transfer to whatever base is closest and lend our support."
Dieter looked to Voss and then to Bertram.
"Bertram. I know this may sound selfish but... if we do get permission to open this front, you and your group are still needed here to protect Royalis. This is something that we, as Rotarians, need to do." Bertram gazed at the three Rotarian defectors and nodded.
"I'll speak with my Father, make him aware of the situation. Once that's done, if he gives his permission, your transfer request will be approved." Dieter, Voss, and Wolff nodded their thanks as Bertram left for the castle without a moment's delay.
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Three Days Later...
RNV Leviathan, 5th Fleet, Near Peninsula City
Josh awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the door to his quarters. He got up and reached for his uniform pants nearby and put them on before anyone came in.
"Enter."
The hatch opened and the radio assistant came in, saluted, and handed him a message that had just came through the radio encrypted channels.
ROYALIS HIGH COMMAND TO RNV LEVIATHAN
URGENT, HIGHEST PRIORITY
HAVE DISCOVERED INTEL VITAL TO WAR EFFORT. MAKE ALL PREPARATIONS TO SAIL TO WATERS BETWEEN TELLANOS AND SCHILDHAVEN. ASSISTANCE FROM FEDERAL 11TH FLEET AND ANOZIRAN 2ND FLEET WILL LINK UP NEAR SCHILDHAVEN SHORELINE.
PREPARE FOR POSSIBLE THREATS FROM SEA, LAND, AND AIR. LANDING SHIPS CARRYING THE FEDERAL 5TH ARMY AND 44TH HEAVY ARMOR CORPS INBOUND. REINFORCEMENTS FROM ANOZIRA, PRAETORIA, AND ESPAN FOLLOWING BEHIND.
ALSO, FEDERAL 29TH AIR ATTACK WING, FEDERAL 13TH SUPPORT WING, FEDERAL 9TH SCOUT WING, AND LAUNCES 1ST AIR WING 'E' SQUADRON WILL BE ARRIVING BY THE AFTERNOON.
EXPECT FULL BRIEFING FROM LT. VOSS OF E SQUADRON.
END.
Josh gazed at the message and then back to the radioman and nodded.
"Notify the fleet. We set sail within the day." The radioman nodded, saluted, and left the cabin as Josh walked to the phone in the cabin that led to the bridge. He flipped up the earpiece, turned the key on to power the phone and waited for the officer on duty to answer. He heard Anne's voice on the pther end and smiled.
"Anne, notify the deck crews to prepare for incoming allied flights and tell the crew to ready to sail. We've been asked to spearhead what is basically an invasion force aimed at starting a third front to liberate Tellanos. Also, please have all officers assemble in the ward room once Lieutenant Voss lands. He'll be briefing us."
"Understood Captain."
Josh turned off the phone and walked to the easel and sat down with the painting he was working on. It had been some time since he'd been able to just sit and paint like he did when he was younger. He worked on the painting for a long while and before he knew it, he heard the ship's bell go off.
"Attention all personel, incoming allied aircraft. Radar has also detected several LSTs inbound to link up with us. Prepare to sail as soon as the last aircraft has landed and is stowed away."
Josh stowed his paints, changed shirts, put on his cap and left the cabin to walk to the bridge. As soon as he arrived, the crew came to attention and Anne motioned him to the observation post to watch as the aircraft landed. The deck crew was in the midst of stowing one of Federation planes. In preparation for this mission, several Syllian aircraft meant for carrier operations and some for land-based ops were requisitioned by the Federation and assigned to the units that were to deploy. Once these aircraft landed and were stowed in the hangars, they were to be repainted in Tellanian colors and markings.
Although it was a safe bet that Rotiart's main frontline units would have the best equipment and that those in occupied zones would have substandard equipment, no one was taking any chances. The Syllian planes were all modified for the Federation's use. The ones originally meant for land-based operations were to be modified en route to the theatre.
The planes chosen by the Federation were CF-32Gs, new CF-33As, and even a few twin engine modified P-30-4Ns, these last planes were twin engine night fighters already modified for carrier use. All were armed with a complete cannon armament, heavy armor, brackets for rockets and bombs, as well as external drop tanks in case of an extended mission, and lastly the most powerful supercharged non-jet propulsion engines ever produced. Add to that the experimental Rocket Assisted Take-off (RATO) devices installed, and you had the fastest, most heavily armed planes in the world that could take off any carrier in the world regardless of deck length.
The last aircraft to land were the E Squadron. Again due to the lack of jet fuel, they too were flying CF-33As, only these remained in Syllian colors and markings. As soon as the last one touched down, Josh nodded to Anne who turned to the bridge crew.
"All hands to stations, prepare to sail. Once we're underway, have the fleet take positions around us. Lieutenant Edwards, you have the bridge." The young officer nodded.
"I have the bridge, ma'am. Engines ahead two thirds, rudder thirty-seven degrees to port."
As the ship started off, Josh and Anne went below to the ward room where, as requested, all officers not currently on duty were waiting. After a few short moments, several Tellanian pilots, as well as Dieter, Wolff, and Voss came in, saluted and remained at ease. Josh nodded and turned to Voss.
"Lieutenant, I was told you would have the reason and the instructions for this new front?" Voss nodded.
"Indeed sir. While opening a third front and dividing Mechanos' attentions further is the main goal, we, that is the three of us have another goal, one that, if it succeeds, has the potential to end the war earlier than expected." Josh and several officers looked to him curiously as Voss explained to them about the silver griffon and the role that she might play if she could be found and her knowledge became public. Once Voss finished explaining, Josh nodded thoughtfully.
"So if this silver griffon is indeed alive and where you think she might be, we would divide Rotiart's loyalties?" Voss nodded.
"Yes, sir. The silver griffons were once the rulers of Rotiart, that's why that, even during the Imperial Age, we couldn't remove them from our flags and other ensignias. To do so would have incited the remaining golden griffons to rebel against the country and that would have in turn made the people rebel. A slighted griffon is a dangerous foe, Captain. Other than dragons, they are the cleverest, strongest, swiftest, and most long-lived creatures in the world. In Rotiart, we all have the same history, the same stories our parents learned from their parnets and so on and so forth. They all have one thing in common. Silver griffons. In short, we have the silver griffon, we essentially have Rotiart."
"What if Mechanos kills it and blames it on us?"
"Then most likely Rotiart would fight us to the last man, woman, and child. There would be some who could be dissuaded, but not many. Our nation is one enveloped by darkness. It has been for some time. The legends of the silver griffons are the only reason people have left to hope for. A promise that one day all past wrongs will be assuaged and we can be at peace once more. A promise to return to prosperity through means other than warfare and bloodshed. A promise that no more families will be ripped apart by unneccessary wars and needless conflicts." Josh nodded thoughtfully.
"Alright then, so we at least know now what we're doing. We have seven days to iron out the kinks of the invasion before we arrive. The area near this mountain and the town is known as the Kolymski Bay. It's basically nothing but beaches but the problem is that the water there is too shallow for anything other than landing craft and destroyers." Josh unrolled a map and lay it down on the table and pointed to a small landmass just south of the bay.
"Furthermore, it's a good chance that Zemlya Island, and the fortress on it, Fort Zemlya, has been occupied by the enemy. They may attempt to stop or interfere with the landings until reinforcements arrive." Dieter nodded and looked to Josh.
"So our first step will be destroying the fortress?"
"That's correct. Anne, radio the landing ships and tell them to make sure the soldier's get plenty of rest. They're going to need it." Anne nodded and turned to leave just as a Federation pilot cleared his throat. When Josh turned to him, the pilot pointed to the map. Where his finger was pointing was a city that sat on both sides of the Kamchatka River. Josh looked to the city.
"Your home, pilot?" The pilot nodded.
"At last report, there were some seven thousand soldiers of the Army holed up in the city. The Rotarians have been bombarding it from the fortress day and night as well as bombing it from the air. Sir, if we have the manpower, would we be able to take some of the pressure off them?" Josh gazed at the map, almost as if judging the distance between it and the small town and their mountain objective.
Ho honestly didn't know if the Federation had sent enough troops for that sort of action or whether or not the defenders were still holding out. Still, if there was a chance...
The name of the city: Dovograd.
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Dovograd, Tellanos Federation
Vasili Alexandr was not a violent man by nature. He was a farmer, a shepard, and a hunter by trade, and a brewer by hobby. In the days of his youth, he and his father would go out into the woods, sometimes for days at a time, and return with a load of furs from their hunts. Deer and other creatures used for meat would be packed with snow to keep them cold. In the summer, his fields grew wheat, corn, barley, a variety of vegetables, (and some hops as well). He was considered one of the best brewers in the nation.
When the war came, he put down his brewer's apron, picked up his rifle, left the farm to his seven children and wife, and joined the volunteer army as was required by law.
Never in a hundred years did he think he would be huddled in an old apartment with five others, four men, one woman. All volunteers like him who, once the capital fell, were absorbed into the regular army and ordered to hold the city of Dovograd until reinforcements arrived.
His old rifle, broken in the first days of the siege of the city, was long gone. So was his indifference. At fifty, he was the oldest man in the group though not an officer. No, that 'honor' belonged to the young twenty-four year old boy who sat against the wall to his left, quietly praying for reinforcements that, to be quite honest, no one believed would be coming. He was the old man, the one that the young ones looked to for guidance and wisdom. Even the lieutenant. He had instructed these survivors in the fine art of hunting, evading, precision shooting, and close-quarters combat.
Having seen many young men and women killed, some in the most horrible ways imaginable, he had vowed to save as many of them as he could. If that meant killing as many Rotarians as possible, then so be it.
His spotter, a private no older than sixteen, maybe seventeen at best, gave three taps to his shoulder, the quiet signal that he had spotted three Rotarian soldiers. Vasili checked his watch, nodded at the time and chuckled.
"Poor timing for these bastards. The fort's about to start bombardment again."
He turned around, his old back creaking as he did so, silently cursing his old age. Rested on one knee, grabbed the scoped rifle beside him, and loaded a fresh five round clip. No sooner had he closed the bolt and locked it did the first shells arc overhead, impacting the a street some ten or twelve blocks from their current position. The three soldiers, aware they were in no danger, just kept patrolling the block.
The private was the newest of his little group. Pulled from the wreckage of a troop truck, it was clear he had no experience holding a gun but he was an excellent scout and had better vision than most other riflemen Vasili had ever seen. Gazing through the scope, Vasili lined up on the first but stopped short, cursing himself.
"I hate getting old."
The young man watched as Vasili pulled a pair of glasses from his coat pocket. The frame was slightly warped and the left lens cracked but then again Vasili always shot with his right eye anyway. As he rested his rifle he waited and looked at the boy who watched his every move.
"Now then lad, remember this. Your best chance to attack is when you have something to mask the sound of the shot. Keeps the enemy guessing, you see? A soldier drops dead but nobody hears the shot? Creeps them out, panicks them, makes them think 'What if I'm next?' A bombing run or artillery barrage is the perfect cover, but there are other distractions. Now then, see how they are, all lined up in formation? The trick is to pick of the furthest guy, the straggler, first and work your way forward, that way, they don't know they're being shot at until it's too late."
Vasili waited for a moment, then heard the whistling sound of an artillery round coming over, waited for a split second more and squeezed the trigger just as the shell exploded. Just like he said, the rearmost soldier dropped, his body crumpling to the ground with a hole where his nose had been. His two friends never heard the shot nor where they aware he had fallen.
As he chambered another round, the heralding of another shell came through. He lined up on the second, steadied his breath, and fired as the shell burst. This time though, the lead soldier was just turning to speak with his friend when the round struck home. The Rotarian soldier watched his friends face disintigrate and was splattered with blood and gore as his friend fell.
His face spattered with gore, bits of bone and brain matter, the soldier turned this way and that trying to see if he could determine where the shot had come from. Then, seeing his friend Vasili had shot earlier dead as well, his nerve broke, he turned tail and started running. He had just reached his first friend's body when a shell came over, close enough to give a man a haircut, and blew out the windows of the old department store across the street. Vasili didn't miss his chance though, he pulled the trigger, and saw through his scope as the round impacted the soldier's back, likely going through the chest, and blowing out the sternum and ribcage.
His targets dead, Vasili eased himself back to his original seat, removed his glasses and pulled a flask out of his coat. Ironically, before the war, Vasili was neither a drinker nor did he smoke.
Seeing a young boy roughly the same age, height, and almost a dead mirror image of his youngest son get killed changed that. He could not forget the sight of the boy running for his mother. The sound of the machinegun as the boy was cut down, and the screams of the boy's mother as the tanks mercilessly ran her down as she tried to save her son's life.
The only reason the machinegun had fired was because Vasili had run out of bullets for his rifle, having spent the last one on a Rotarian colonel who was executing wounded Tellanian soldiers and civilians with a near sadistic glee.
The bastard had died laughing, with a broad smile showing all his teeth plastered on his face, even though the top half of his head was no longer there.
In retaliation, the tank crews had opened fire on the remaining civilians, gunning them all down, then running over their bodies to ensure they hadn't missed one.
He checked his ammo bag and sighed when he saw he only had two clips and three stray rounds left as well as seven or eight rounds for the pistol he'd lost a few days earlier. Vasili took a swig of the 190 proof vodka from the flask, then pulled a cigarette out and lit it chuckling to himself.
"I always thought that these things would kill me. They probably will, later in life, but for right now, I'm more worried about getting blown up, burned alive, shot, or run over than I am about lung rot, liver failure, or anything else. Lieutenant, I hope your prayers are answered soon, because I'm running out of ammo, the nearest camp that we know of just got blown into next week, and worse, I think the enemy is narrowing down where we are. That last shell struck a little too close to home."
"Are we out of vodka?" Vasili shook his head, grabbing the bottle that had been placed in the desk to keep it from getting carelessly broken. The Lieutenant gave a wan smile.
"At least we can be thankful for that."
As the bombardment faded, the eight men and women in the apartment each drank a sip from the bottle and then settled in for what would be another cold, nerve-wracking night.
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Okay, so now we have moved into Tellanos. We know that there is a way to demoralize the Rotarians and maybe even stop them entirely. Still though, will this plan work? Will the force make it there in time? Will Vasili and the others run out of vodka anytime soon?
Find out next time as we follow Vasili and his survivors as they try to make their way to another section of the city.
Next Chapter: Sewers, Factories, No Retreat.