The Siege Against Tolkeen

Jack looked around the battlefield in utter, total disbelief. The forest had been made into a clearing. It looked like the ground had torn itself apart, creating huge ditches and seemingly bottomless chasms. Mighty trees had been turned into kindling, a thin layer of tiny, burning wood chips on the ground. They crunched beneath his jackbooted feet when he walked, releasing tufts of black smoke. Sometimes, the fire licked his armor, blackening the white sections, but doing no damage.

The three tanks had been pulverized. One of them had been caught in a widening pit, and was then crushed when the gully began to close. The black, skull-shaped armor on the front had been pulled apart by the pressure. It looked like the death's-head was screaming, with a pillar of flame and inky smoke pouring from its open mouth. One of the tanks had been just outside the wake of destruction, out of the field of shattered wood. It had been ripped to shreds by the elemental. Its crew members were lying nearby, their limbs and heads plucked off and strewn about, still in their armor. The final tank, the tank which his wife had been in, was caught in the quake. It had apparently exploded when a pillar of rock, rising up from beneath the hovertreads, had pierced the miniature nuclear power plant. While a full meltdown had not occurred, a great explosion had taken place. Fire belched from every opening, licking at the air. The armor was beginning to melt.

"You bastard," Jack sobbed, sinking to his knees in the burning clearing. "You were supposed to fucking die. Why didn't you die?" The trooper looked at the tank, his wife's funeral pyre, and was suddenly filled with violent rage. "YOU BASTARD!!" he bellowed. "WHY DIDN'T YOU DIE?! ANSWER ME!! ANSWER ME!!!!" His strength leeched away from sorrow and anger, he lay face down on the burning ground, and put his helmeted face in his Kevlar-gloved hands to cry.

Suddenly, he heard a moan from nearby, from a chasm. Getting to his feet, Jack ran over to it, wondering if perhaps someone could have survived. There was a precipice easily twenty feet deep, at the bottom of which lay Karny, twisted over the wreckage of his Scout Cycle. It had been knocked out of the air, apparently by the huge fists of the elemental.

"Jack?" he gasped, his voice dry and wheezing. At that moment, Perrin saw that his friend's crash was hard one. One of his bike's handlebars had penetrated his armor, and was piercing his stomach. Blood and chunks of bone lay strewn over the controls.

"What happened, Karny?" asked Jack. "How did this happen?"

"Elemental," said the dying pilot. "Tougher than HQ thought. Used spell to take out two tanks, then tore the other one apart with its hands. It got me with a boulder when I tried to strafe it."

"Look," said Jack. "I'll call HQ with my radio. They'll medivac you. You're going to be all right."

Karny laughed bitterly, and then began to violently cough. "You forgot, I was pre-med," he croaked. "I know...something about wounds. This type of injury will take a long time to kill me. Not long enough, though. They'd need 'least an hour to get here...and I've got half that"

"So what should I do?" asked Jack, the tears beginning to run down his face again.

"I don't want to spend the last thirty minutes of my life in pain," Karny said, reaching up to Jack. "Just finish me off. Make it nice and clean."

"All right," said Jack, drawing his pistol. "If that's what you really want. But first, tell me, which way did he go?"

"Not really sure," gasped Karny. "North, I think. Please, do it. This hurts real bad."

"All right, buddy," said Jack sadly, taking careful aim at the opening in his friend's armor. "Rest in peace."

Underneath his helmet, Karny smiled winsomely. "The dead are no longer lonely," he said softly. The sound of a single laser shot, crystal-clear, cut through the silence of the battlefield.

Jack scrambled down the ravine, dropping from handhold to handhold. Finally, he reached the bottom, where the corpse of his best friend lay. After gently pulling Karny's remains from the Scout Cycle, he pushed the bike onto its side, then carefully opened a cargo compartment right behind the seat. Inside lay a Hellfire Cannon, with a long-style E-Clip already loaded.

"One thing I'll say for you, Karny," Perrin said sadly. "You always loved to be prepared." Pulling out the bulky rifle and slinging it over his back, the pilot carefully climbed the steep sides of the ravine. Then, checking his armor's electronic compass, he began trudging northwards.

The greater earth elemental paused for a moment, and looked down to the tightly packed dirt beneath its rocky feet. The spirit wondered why it was here, on a world which was rich with magical energy, yet peopled by unremarkable insects. Why has my little brother commanded me to slay these pathetic creatures, it wondered. What could they have done, what could they have been capable of doing, to require its attentions in slaying them? Suddenly, there was a slight buzzing sensation in the elemental's head. He sensed another one of the mortals, another one of his enemies, arriving from the south.

The spirit wondered what was happening. It seemed that the mortal was hunting it, but that was incomprehensible. Why would it throw its puny life away attacking an infinitely greater force than itself? The elemental could simply not dismiss this burning question. It sat down on a nearby rock, and began to puzzle out what was happening.

Jack looked up at the elemental. It was sitting on a boulder, its hands stained with black ash, fires still smoldering on its broad, granite shoulders. The thing paid no heed to him. It simply sat, its head resting on one of its thick hands, staring off into the distance.

The soldier pulled his Hellfire cannon into place, and took careful aim. Carefully gazing through the eyepiece, he got a perfect view of the monster's shoulder blades. "This is for my wife, you monster," he hissed, through clenched teeth.

Pulling the trigger, he caused a stream of liquid flame to engulf the spirit's head and shoulders, bathing them in white hot flames for almost a minute. But then, the fires died down, and he could see that the elemental was unharmed, unblemished from the attack.

The spirit's thoughts were interrupted for a moment by uncomfortable warmth on his shoulders. It gently rubbed the area with its rocky fingers. A few seconds later, the discomfort ceased, and the spirit went back, to wondering whether or not the human could have some link with the ones it had slain moments ago.

Jack inserted the other clip, tossing the old one aside. Then, he took aim on the head, carefully lining up another perfect shot. But it wasn't enough to shoot the monster in the back, and it wasn't effective, either. He wanted the thing to know that it was under attack, even though deep in his heart, he realized that his attack was useless and suicidal.

"Hey, fuckwad!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Over here!"

The elemental heard a sound from behind. Turning, it saw that the human had already arrived. That was somewhat of a surprise to the spirit, who had thought that it was alone.

Jack grinned as he saw the elemental turn towards him, although tears were running down his cheeks. He pulled the trigger on his cannon, and a stream of energy shot out, hitting the spirit right between its glowing eyes. The creature's head was bathed in fire hot enough to reduce a man to atoms. The rock that it sat on was beginning to melt into lava.

The spirit felt the uncomfortable warmth again, this time right between its eyes. Its vision was temporarily impaired by the flames engulfing its face. Feeling a strong measure of annoyance, the elemental smothered the fires with one of its hands. Then, with the other, it called forth a boulder from its home plane of existence. A piece of pure rock, hard as a diamond, slowly formed on its open palm.

Jack realized what was coming, and also realized that flight would do him no good. "I'm coming, Elisabeth," he said calmly, and then closed his eyes and dropped his gun.

The elemental fulfilled its little brother's request yet again. It hurled the boulder, with all its might, into the puny human. Although it was a tiny exertion for the spirit, the victim was crushed. The boulder hit the poor creature dead center, throwing it backwards into a tree, and crushing it. The human fell to the ground, and moved no more. The spirit then decided that it was a moot point whether or not humans could feel determination or any other emotions, and went on its way.

Tucson Llaillan, the elvish explorer (or so he liked to call himself), looked up with dread at the Great Pyramid and its nine crystalline satellites. He had never really liked any of Tolkeen's city-states, let alone Grand Alamar, the capitol. Too magical. Despite his heritage, the elf greatly preferred his own mental prowess to any mystic junk. His powers were useful, reliable, and had never once backfired on him or summoned up any uncontrollable demons, unlike the tools of some "sorcerers" he had heard of.

The city streets were bustling with activity, much more than Tucson felt comfortable with. He had grown up in small border villages, and damn it, he liked it there. Just like the army to evacuate everyone, whether they want to be evacuated or not, he though bitterly. Soldiers, their crimson uniforms resplendent in the August sun, proudly strolled down the streets, some of them in shiny chrome armor, or with assortments of magical weaponry hanging by their sides. Occasionally a military vehicle or a civilian car would sputter by, parting the crowds to let them pass, and magically hovering inches off of the ground.

Many of the crowd's members were refugees from the border towns, like the elf was. Most of them carried all their worldly possessions in satchels on their backs, or occasionally on a cart. Living space cost a premium in the crowded conditions of Tolkeen, and therefore, most of the displaced poor found themselves suddenly homeless. Entire families lined the alleyways, setting up tents or gathered around fires. Dozens of lean, hungry faces looked up at the elf.

Self-consciously, he walked into a shadowy doorway to tighten his fake bionic leg. He had bought it right before his forced move to Grand Alamar, to keep himself out of military service. It was a plastic "sleeve" which fit over the limb and created the illusion that his right leg was a rickety, unstable piece of junk from the worst chop-shop in town. The army had poor bionics facilities, so poor, or damaged cybernetics could not be repaired or replaced. Recruits with lousy artificial parts were simply sent on their way. Although the prosthetic would not hold up to any kind of scrutiny in a medical examination, at least it kept people from asking him if he had went to the recruiting office.

Strange as it was, Tucson actually preferred a few years as a homeless person to a tour of duty in the Tolkeen army. He had no experience with guns or magic and had a touch of cowardice to boot. The elf believed that he wouldn't last five minutes in a bar room brawl, let alone a stand-up fight against the Coalition's war machines.

Confidant that his fake bionics were firmly in place, the elf walked back out onto the streets again. He still had not seen any good places to pitch a camp, where he could have privacy when he wanted it and aid when he needed it. Perhaps I should try to find the mass transport headquarters, he mused. An old, abandoned tube car would be a great place to bed down. Those things are heated, lockable, and nearly impregnable to assault.

"How much longer 'till the solstice?" asked the godling, looking over the shoulders of the ice dragon, who had changed into human form. The wyrm was hunched over a computer which had mystical sigils of power carved into its monitor, keyboard, and data tower. On the screen was a calendar, written in Dragonese, and using a thirteen day week.

"Read it for yourself," said the dragon, with no small measure of annoyance in its deep, rumbling voice.

"You know that I can't read," said the godling. He chuckled bitterly. "I can speak a hundred different tongues, but this damn dyslexia keeps me from reading a single friggin' word."

"Oh," said the dragon, a smile curling its lips. "I forgot. DO forgive me."

"Just tell me how long it is," said the godling.

"It will be 109 days until the winter solstice," said the dragon. "That's about five months. Five months we have to hold out, until we can tap into enough energy for the ultimate teleport spell. Our pyramidal bomb will be transported directly on top of Chi-Town, at which point the Nine will be slain."

"And their death screams will sound as far north as Free Quebec, and as far south as Lone Star," said the godling. "Our ley lines will be weakened for years, but we won't need them for defense anymore."

"And in time, they will recycle, and our great empire will become whole once more."

Next Chapter

By David Haendler.

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

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