The Guardians of Sol (14 page)

Unfortunately the... gentle touch... of the Spartan interrogators were so far getting nothing out of the captives, and it was all Eric could do to keep them from killing the helpless men. It wasn't that the Spartans were barbarous as such, more like they were congenitally short-tempered and impatient. Only age seemed to mellow these traits somewhat, but as with Telamon, age didn't always help that much.

About half an hour before dawn, the Sciritai began reporting back in, and the captain of their Twenty went to Telamon, taking off his helmet as he entered the office.

"Near as we can figure, Uther's sent perhaps a third of his army at us, say... thirty-five thousand. They have outriders but we managed to slip past them long enough to see that they set camp in a standard layout. There wasn't any slacking off that we could see, and there were sentries all within eyeshot of each other. Sir, this General doesn't seem the sort to be taking chances... this isn't going to be a walk."

Telamon grinned as he usually did at the prospect of a good fight. "We didn't expect it to be a walk, nice as it would be to get back to the family soon. With the passes the way they are though, we should be good for a long time with how many men we have. Now, did you see any banners or crests with symbols on them? Anything else that could be important?"

"Well, nearer the center of the camp, and this was at maximum enhancement mind you, but there were some pennants or some such thing with what my boys thought looked like a wolf's head on them. Could have been a bear."

"Not the bear. The man is a slob. So, the boy king has sent his Wolf Knight after us... maybe this fight will be harder than I thought. I've known Marcus for years you know, he's a good man and there's a reason he's been the Pendragon's champion for so many years," Telamon raised an eyebrow. "You have more to say?"

"A couple of my boys had a run in with some of the Royal Assassins. We won, mind you, but you know... precautions and all that." The man began to turn away. "Oh right, they were starting to mobilize when we left so they'll probably be an hour or two after sunrise." The man grinned, "Good luck with that."

After the Sciritai left, Eric stepped out from a side door. "Why did it have to be Marcus? It’s not just that he's one of Uther's best strategists, but... he's our-"

"He's our friend, too. But sometimes things you don't like happen and you still have to follow through. That is just part of the crazy world we live in. Remember the first time we had him over to the manor? Never thought we could get anyone so nauseous, even after some of that stuff we got him to eat."

"Heh, wasn't too bad in that bar fight either. Although that part of the night is still a little fuzzy for me. Why on earth were we even on that side of town in the first place?"

"I may have been... bored and in need of a drink... But that is the past. And now we need to be prepared for anything. Now get the men out to the walls. We have a battle fight and old friends to kill."

*****

Two hours from the dawn, Telamon was on the front line of the defense, at the center and in full armor. Around him were Eric and the rest of his twenty from the Sentinel Guard. They were in the narrowest part of the main pass, in front of all the other defenses. It was a very imposing sight, or so the AEU messenger thought as he came within earshot of the Greek forces. Fifty across, in burnished gold. The centermost ten were slightly bigger with black helmet plumes and black plate skirts. Among them was a somewhat smaller figure in silver, and all the more intimidating for standing so confidently in the middle of all those Spartans.

The messenger swallowed, "My lord, the King Pendragon commands you to lay down your arms! Let his army pass and you will keep your lives! Let all of Europe finally be united in a common cause!"

Telamon turned to Eric, "Sheesh, I think somebody has been watching too many old movies. Do we have any Sciritai within range of that pompous blowhard?"

"Actually we do... you're not going to kill the messenger are you? Because that's just bad taste, old horse."

"Nah, just going to give him a shot across the bow, so to speak. Link the Sciritai to my HUD for a moment." He relayed what he wanted to the man before calling back to the messenger. "We stand here as free Confederate citizens and Greeks! Free men! The time of European dominance in the world is long since over! We make our own destiny now, and it’s not with the house of Pendragon!"

On that last word, a shot from the Sciritai’s coil gun blew through one of the messenger's guards. The messenger practically squealed with terror as he got his driver to turn around and make with all due speed to the waiting host.

"A bit overdramatic, don't you think old man?" Eric asked, exasperated. Telamon just shrugged.

“I didn’t kill the messenger, did I?”

Among the European forces once more, the little messenger fell over himself trying to relate Telamon's words to Marcus. Hearing them, he laughed a small sad laugh, for he expected no less from Telamon, or from any Spartan for that matter.

Back at the line, Telamon was relaxing with his men. “So, how was my little speech?” he asked.

Eric answered first, “It was a bit too… I don’t know… movie-ish. It didn’t seem to come out very natural. Have you been practicing that in your spare time?”

“Yeah!” Arkadios cut in, “Why didn’t you just tell them to go to hell?”

“He did, Arka, more or less. Between his words and having that guard killed, Telamon has pretty much forced Marcus to attack.”

“Oh… Man, I hate politics. Fighting is so much simpler.”

“Ha! That’s an opinion I can back, pup.” Telamon agreed. “How’s that new arm treating you?”

“It itches from time to time,” the younger man grinned. “But it sure does have a lot more features than that old one.”

The older man was about to say something else when off in the distance the enemy troops began moving toward the canyon highway. A rumble of so many heavy feet thrummed through the high, steep walls.

“Your surprises are in place?” He asked Eric.

“You know they are, Old Man. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m thinking it’s about time we pulled back to the first wall.” Telamon said thoughtfully.

“Good thinking.”

*****

The canyon to Larissa is nine kilometers long with four choke points. Two kilometers in, at the first choke, was a wall, three meters tall. This was where Telamon was determined to meet the enemy. But first Marcus had to get his troops past the surprises the Greeks had left for them.

At the point where Telamon had met the emissary, automated turrets popped out of the canyon floor and walls and began spraying AEU troops with twenty milimeter long spikes of depleted uranium. Men were mowed down in their dozens despite armor until finally a few well-placed explosives destroyed the turrets. Before the enemy came to the wall, they had faced many traps, including mines and spikes; not many were killed, though a good number were injured.

Before any assault on the wall, Marcus himself came forward to try for a peaceful resolution (in the AEU’s favor, of course) one last time before the true bloodshed, no matter how unlikely.

“Old man! You know I have you outnumbered by more than ten to one. Do you really want to sacrifice your men in so meaningless a defiance?”

“Marcus, you know I like you, but I have my orders, and your men are trespassing on sovereign territory. Go home, boy. You’re like a son to me, and I’d hate to have to kill you.”

Marcus sighed, “I have my orders as well… Despite my objections, my King has ordered this war, and so I must obey. Death before dishonor, my old friend.”

“Death before Dishonor.” Telamon returned.

*****

Even in war, Marcus revealed his sense of humor and his prejudices. The first wave was composed of the French special forces, modern “Musketeers.” The rounds from their powerful long rifles merely bounced off the thick shields of the defenders. The poor men never even made it to the wall to try hand to hand. More auto-guns popped out from the wall and the canyon. Those who weren’t cut down by the guns, were instead impaled by plasma tipped javelins launched from above.

Next knights from Germany and Austria came; who fared better only in that they destroyed the auto-guns before they died. Marcus didn't order any more attacks for this first day, even though he was on a timetable put forth by his king.

*****

Three days, and it had been a hard fight day and night. Still, they had been pushed back to the outermost edges of Larissa. Marcus was ruthless in his duties, and the Spartan forces had faced night attacks, dawn attacks, and even attacks by long outlawed and generally ineffective autonomata weapons.

However, they persisted. It didn't matter to the Spartans that they were outnumbered, that they were technically outgunned. It was a battle that every man felt that he had been waiting his whole life for. Even Telamon felt the energy, and couldn't resist cracking jokes about European forces.

Despite the high moral and relatively low losses, Eric was going crazy trying to keep all the soldiers supplied. Every Spartan armor was equipped with twenty beam-tip javelins. To his dismay, even older Spartans had trouble using these wisely. He had seen more than one European become a pincushion. Additionally, power packs for plasma spears were running out at a frightening rate. Ammunition for wrist cannons had run out during the first two days. He could have sworn that he had planned better and stocked more supplies. Even worse, he couldn't get any trucks to bring in anything more. He suspected Leon's hand in this. You would think that in the middle of a war and after nearly four decades Telamon and the King could put their feud behind them.

Eric didn't have a high enough security clearance to know the exact details, he was only a major after all, but Leon had requisitioned all supplies to the other two battlefronts with nothing left for Telamon. Fortunately, Barak Simeon and other Venators stopped in often enough for Eric to get messages to the Sentinel arranging air drops for supplies. With the fleet currently in control of the airspace above Greece that was mercifully possible, but that could change at any time as the European fleet kept making a push. When he tried to discuss these problems with his father-in-law, the man stubbornly replied, "It doesn't matter, we can take them." Eric was not a happy man.

*****

"Throw them back boys!" Telamon roared. "Make them run with their tails between their legs!" Following his own advice he grabbed up a knight by throat and groin and threw the man into the milling forces below this final wall before the city.

Another squad of knights began to jump to the top of the wall. Telamon opened up on them with his wrist cannon, hitting three before the gun finally clacked empty. The thought occurred to him that Eric had mentioned something about short supplies. Not that it mattered much at the moment. He pulled his short sword from its sheathe in his shield and slammed it into the nearest enemy.

The sword punched through the knight’s armor as the blade glowed red slipping out just as easily as it had gone in. As an officer, Telamon was lucky enough to have a heat blade made of adamantine instead of the vibrating blade used by the lower rankers. He took a swing at the next nearest foe, who tried to block the glowing blade. Telamon’s sword sliced through its counterpart like butter, eviscerating the man behind it.

As the space around him was clear for the moment, Arkadios grabbed Telamon’s attention, pointing to an object that had begun to glow at the far end of the canyon.

“Old timer, what the hell is that?” The younger man asked as he parried an enemy blade before using his own to tear through armor with a terrible screeching.

“That looks like a… Damn! Clear the walls! Everyone hear me? Beat feet! Back to the city! Disengage you whoresons!” Telamon cried, his usually stalwart voice almost quaking with fear, and anger. Spartans and a few Hoplite reservists began leaping from the wall to try and take up defensive positions around the city.

“Zeus’ beard, Captain, what is that thing?” Arkadios demanded. He continued to battle along with Telamon and several others so that the rest of their forces just might have enough time before the enemy horde caught up with them.

“It’s a particle cannon, boy. I’m not sure where he dragged it out from but unless we’re lucky enough that it explodes when it fires, we’re all dead men.” Telamon thought about that for a second before laughing loudly over the intercom. “You always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, didn’t you Arka?”

“You’re insane, Old Timer! I’m pretty sure that was you!” Arkadios turned around looking for another target to fight. “Um… where did they all go?”

Telamon swore loudly, but he was already acting, grabbing Arkadios and pulling him along. “The sides! Everyone left on the wall, hurry to the sides!” He barked. Without wasting a second he threw Arkadios with all the power that his armor could muster, and activated the jets on his pack almost simultaneously.

Behind him a fierce blue-white beam shot through the wall and a good portion of the air above it. Those of the remaining men who were too slow to make it to the transitory safety of the sides simply… disappeared. The edges of where the beam hit had been completely glassed.

"Who's still alive?" Telamon queried once his vision had cleared.

"I am. So, if you would be so good as to get off of me, Captain, I believe you ordered a retreat." Arkadios complained. As it was only five others fell in line on the way to the city. Of the twenty men who had held the wall in the last few moments only seven were left.