The Siege Against Tolkeen

Sonja glanced at the column of golems, trying to decide how far away she should stay from the constructs. Following them would be the best way to find some CS troops, but getting caught by them would be the quickest way to die. Although the man-shaped chunks of rock were slow and clumsy and stupid, they were strong and durable. Also, half a dozen sentient troops, in red combat armor, marched alongside the column. Their job was to ensure that the golems didn't kill innocent citizens or deviate from their mission plan.

Sonja then looked down at the utility belt pocket which held the vital CD. She gave it a quick pat to make sure that it was still there and still safe, and then began to jog through the underbrush, after the mindless platoon.

The Juicer felt uneasy. The wilderness was not a safe place to be during the war. Coalition planes regularly firebombed entire regions, demonic parasites like ghouls and vampires crawled through the forests looking for wounded prey, and all sorts of magical booby traps and energy walls made travel downright dangerous. The safest place to be is probably near these guys, she reasoned to herself. After all, they'll stay clear of the traps, and they're doubtless going to attack some Coalition camp or something. Still, she didn't like to think what would happen if those Coalition grunts lost.

She looks lost, thought CS Ranger Hubert Possman. He had been trailing the golem platoon for nearly half an hour, watching them from high in the trees, and leaping from branch to branch to follow the scumbags. His silenced jet pack was always there if he fell, but he knew the forest so well that he hardly ever fell. Still, he hadn't spotted the girl with them until a few minutes ago, although he suspected that she had been with them all along.

Possman's ever-so-slightly modified Espionage armor was specially designed for his style. It was made out of a lighter polycarbonate plating, providing greater mobility and less weight. Still, the camouflage armor strained the thick branches, sometimes threatening to break them. When the tree limb that he was squatting on began to give way, the ranger decided that it was time to follow on the ground. He activated his jet pack, hearing a slight humming noise, and lowered himself to the ground behind a tree. Then, pulling his vibro-knife, he began to approach the girl.

Sonja's enhanced senses noticed the rustling of leaves on the ground when Possman was less than five yards away from her. She pulled her laser pistol out and spun around, expecting to see a red-garbed soldier who had doubled back around her. Instead, she saw a man in camouflage Dead Boy armor, holding an energy knife. With his free hand, he put a finger over his lips, indicating that he wanted her to be silent. But as soon as the golems had marched out of range, he began chatting away.

"You're a smuggler, I take it?" he asked, his voice somewhat shrill. "That's rather unusual. Nowadays, most of them are rifting their way out of Tolkeen. Still, we get the occasional border jumper."

Sonja shook her head. "I'm a member of...a terrorist group," she admitted. "I've been charged with getting this message to somebody in the CS. Give this to your c.o., all right?" With that, she handed over her message.

He nodded. "Cool. Uh, hey, would you by any chance...ah...want to see those golems get burned? I've phoned ahead and told a nearby base that they're coming, and an ambush is being prepared even as we speak. I've seen quite a few of these ambushes and they're a spectacular show! All the lasers and the rail gun fire, it's beautiful, really."

Sonja looked at him coolly. "This is a war, buddy," she growled. "It isn't a spectator sport. People are getting killed."

Possman sighed, totally deflated. "All right," he sighed, tucking the CD away. "Suit yourself. I guess I'll see it alone then." With that, he activated his silenced jet pack, rose up about a foot into the air, and then flew off after the golems.

"Bitch," he muttered once he was sure she was out of range.

"Loser," she muttered, once she was sure he was out of range. Then, she turned, and began the long journey back home.

Back at her home, in Grand Alamar, the High Council was meeting outside of their pyramid. Each of them wore a headset walkie-talkie, and each of them stood at a wall, pressing their hands up against the cool stone.

"Are you sure that the safeguards are all in place?" hissed one of the Lizard Mages, not at all liking the feel of the cold rock against his clammy, scaly fingers. "I don't want to be getting PPE burns, and I certainly don't want to be pulled into the astral plane."

"The safeguards are in place!" snapped Shaard. "All of the proper anchors are set!"

"And the army is in place?" asked the young elf hesitantly. He was shaking very slightly, and his skin was pale. In the last sorcery he had performed, a sizable portion of his soul had been ripped from him, and he was understandably nervous to risk losing the rest. "The radar defenses and the missile bays?"

"Yes," said Shaard, obviously annoyed. "It's all ready. Can we please get this going?" As if to signify his readiness, he began chanting. Bluish mystical energy shot up from the ground, passing through his massive frame and up onto the sides of the pyramid, creating a wall of slightly opaque magical energy. At places, the wall curved outward to form midair walls or canyons; further barriers to enemy forces.

The others gave their chants, and the energy barriers formed on the other sides of the pyramid as well, until the stone structure was completely wrapped in magical power, and until a complex labyrinth of crackling blue force stretched through the nearby skies. The energy then faded out of sight, as if it was diffusing into the wall and into the air.

Shaard wiped a layer of ice-cold perspiration from his scaly brow. "I pity the pilots who make an attack run here!" he laughed merrily.

The golems began their attack run. They were at the top of a steep valley, overlooking a CS camp. The camp was in the process of becoming a fort. Everywhere troops were running back and forth placing portable walls, and construction machines worked at laying foundations of concrete or digging up the earth to make basements and bomb shelters.

Possman watched happily from a nearby tree, staring at the golems and their living leaders with a powerful pair of binoculars. He could see a few other golem platoons closing in on other sides of the valley, and a wing of the incompetent techno-wizard jets flying in from the northeast. It was a minor assault force, meant only to shake up the Coalition and slow the construction of their newest fort. But, thanks to Possman's warning, it would become a slaughter.

As the golems charged down into the valley, they ran into the minefields. Flame belched out from the ground every few seconds as a golem stepped on a land mine. Sometimes the construct would explode, firing chunks of its concrete body up into the air. More often, it would continue onwards, scorched and burnt.

As they reached the perimeter of the fort, a barbed wire fence snapped up from the ground. It was a temporary measure at best, but kept the golems at bay long enough for the cavalry to arrive. Legions of foot-soldiers, who had been hiding in the woods, swept down upon the enemy, their weapons blazing. The golems were caught between the Coalition troops and the fence. To complicate their problems, men from behind the fence were picking off the Tolkeen soldiers with sniper fire. By the time the incoming grunts had reached close range, all of the golems were already weakened or destroyed. And within a few more minutes, all of the golems had been destroyed.

The techno-wizard jets were a bigger problem, although the planes were quite lousy. They were fast and agile enough, but lacked armor or powerful weaponry. While a couple of them managed to strafe the base, it was only a matter of minutes before missile teams on the ground took the planes down.

Once the last plane had gone down into the forest, burning and exploding, Possman took off his helmet and lit up a cigarette. He then looked down at the CD in his hand, and grabbed up his walkie-talkie. "Sir," he said, pressing down a button. "A young lady gave me something that I think you should hear."

Next Chapter

By David Haendler.

Copyright © 1996, 1997, 1998 David Haendler. All Rights Reserved.

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