The Vitalis Chronicles: Steps of Krakador (42 page)

He realized in that moment just how much distance the boats had managed to cover in the span of time it had taken to sink one. He kept track of the number of ships sunk and divided it by the rounds fired by both the north and now the south cliff. There would be no stopping this landing party, not before they entered the harbor, certainly, and probably not even after they had entered it. Especially with how few guns they could man at once.

“
Give it three more minutes,” he shouted to the soldier nearest him, “then head for the next bunkers down!”

“
Sir,” the soldier had to shout over the booms of the guns as well. “We couldn't get 'em all in ten minutes!”

“
No, but they'll be into the harbor by then.”

He turned and left the bunker, running up the stairs to the outside and making for the first southern-facing bunker in the line. When he got there he discovered the guns already manned. “Where are the engineers?”

“
They're in the next bunker over.” The soldier tasked with firing and reloading looked pale. Phelts couldn't blame him.

“
Be sure to lead them well; they're moving pretty fast.” Almost in time with his instruction, the scattered line of small boats appeared in the distance near the southern cliffs. “They'll be here soon,” Phelts said as he made for the trench to the next bunker. “Sink the first one that comes in range!”

He ran down the line to the next bunker, where the engineers worked frantically to finish assembling a hinge that had rusted out since its last check. The girl with her hair tied back was leading the process; she had a dark streak of grease on her cheek now and a fire in her eyes. Phelts suddenly found her very attractive in the midst of the unfolding chaos.

“
How's it coming?”

“
We only have enough gear to get us through three, maybe four more bunkers. A lot of the guns this far out haven't been touched.”

“
Which means the rest will go quickly though, right?”

“
Those things are moving so fast, having the men to man them is going to be a bigger problem, and soon.” She dropped down to support the hinge as its freshly-greased pin was dropped back in, and then stood to wipe her hands on her coveralls. “We're going as fast as we can, but it's not nearly fast enough.”

“
I'm on it.” Phelts turned to run up the stairs in the back corner of the bunker. He didn't even want to know how close the boats were now, but he could hear guns in the next bunker down begin to fire. He raced to the truck, jumping in through the passenger's side and reaching for the receiver before he saw trucks approaching on the road in the distance.

“
Finally! Some good news!” He moved to the driver's side, pulled the ignition lever, and put it into gear so quickly that the rear tires kicked up a spurt of dirt as he took off. He raced as fast as the truck could handle, bouncing and rattling over hidden bumps and grooves in the grass as he went. The trucks were almost at the central bunker. This was the best news he had been given yet.

He grabbed the wireless receiver, “Who's approaching in the trucks? You on wireless?”

“
Yeah, what's goin– oh my God...”
He must have finally caught sight of the incoming invasion.

“
Precisely. I need you to divide your troops and man the guns in the bunkers starting with the farthest out and working your way back to the center. Some of the guns aren't yet operational, but we need them all manned.”

“
Aye sir. It is 'sir,' isn't it? We heard Merodach is down.”

“
I'm in charge,” Phelts said with a grin he couldn't help. “I'll meet you back in the center when your men are in place.”

“
You heard the man,”
the voice came over the wireless, but not for him.
“
Lead truck's headed north, second you head south, alternate directions and fill those bunkers! Drivers turn your trucks around after you've unloaded and prep 'em to haul back to the choke point if things go bad.”
Each peeled off in alternating directions until all twenty trucks had gone off to find a bunker.

Phelts parked his truck next to the car he had ridden in with Merodach that morning. It was unbelievable how much things had changed in the span of a couple of hours, both for the better and for the far, far worse. There had been rumors of the Relequim's return, but there were always rumors, that was nothing new; he had never thought that their old enemy would actually show up here. He had certainly never thought the Relequim would make an attempt at his original landing point; the ancient had already been defeated here once, why would he risk a second attempt?

And then it struck him.
This is why. This is why he can make such a brazen attempt at taking our Continent from the same spot he was once defeated. We've been fighting ourselves and can barely man our defenses, our overgrown and dilapidated defenses.

He grabbed a set of field glasses from the glove compartment and walked over to stand on a bunker that was just right of the pit left by Merodach's assassination. He would have to turn that into some sort of memorial, he realized. Something to commemorate where the city's great leader had met his unfortunate end, something small and easily corroded, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.

He scanned the line of small boats before him as the guns along the cliffs came to new life. The first row was already a quarter of a mile into the harbor, but was slowly being torn to shreds. The sight gave him hope; perhaps things could go their way after all.

Then he saw new boats being lowered into the water behind the oncoming wave. These were much more slender, black, and fast. They came speeding up so quickly that he realized they would be in the midst of the incoming fleet by the time the first boats were reaching the ruined pillar.

What on earth are those for?

More guns were coming to life, unloading as low as their trajectory would allow, each side blasting towards the foot of the other. The crossfire turned into a deafening roar, yet still the boats continued forward. Phelts saw another boat ripped apart, and focused his field glasses on it in hopes of seeing what it carried.

The inside of the boat was a sickly red, like fatty meat torn fresh from the bone, and was writhing as the wood splintered and separated.
It looks like... tentacles.
Whatever the things in the boats were, those that survived the shot squirmed and slithered out of the ruined boat and made their way towards the nearest that remained afloat.

But instead of climbing on board, they seemed to attach themselves under the hull and do their best to propel the boats even faster.

What are you?
And then it came to him.
Fodder.

He looked back up in time to see a new wave of boats finish being unloaded into the water as the bows of the ships began to close and their crews set their sails to advance.
They're just the fodder.

The black boats careened forward, traveling almost at twice the speed of their gray counterparts. They spread thin, moving towards the outside of the formation until they were up against the cliffs, and then they unloaded their passengers.

Phelts' stomach lurched in horror as he realized what was happening. Spindly, black, wolf-looking monsters poured out of the black boats as they began to crack and splinter against the cliffs. Some were so far as halfway into the harbor by now, the monsters leaping out before the boats were destroyed and scrambling up the sides of the cliffs. They were having a hard go of it, the rock face intentionally left unstable by the designs of the Magi, but the monsters were making headway. They climbed like some wretched lizards, and for every one that lost its footing to fall, another moved past and took its place.

Phelts ran back to the truck and grabbed the wireless receiver. “The walls! Shoot the walls!” He waited a moment, but there was no response. He cursed and whipped around as the first of the black monsters reached the window of a bunker.

“
No... no no no no no!” Phelts grabbed at his cheeks as if to dig out his eyes as he sank to his knees. He watched, helpless, as the first soldier was thrown out of his bunker to the carnage below. More of the beasts made it to the tops of the cliffs. Some of the bunkers adjusted their aim, shooting the walls across the way to save their comrades, but the effort was too little and far too late.

More of the black monsters scrambled high, working their way into the bunkers and silencing the guns inside. Some were blasted back out by ready soldiers within, but they were quickly followed by more of their kind.

The boats moved almost unhindered now, and as they began to pass the smoking pillar en masse, Phelts felt the bottom of his world begin to drop out. He ran to the truck behind him, grabbing the wireless and calling for anyone who was listening.

“
We're minutes away, sir,” c
ame a voice that belonged to a man who thought it was reassuring.
“
We'll bring the fight to them!”

“
The fight is already here, you idiot!” Phelts began digging around in the cab for a gun, anything to defend himself with. “Drive faster and deploy your men at the center of the line!”

“
Sir, we'll assess the sit–”

“
The situation is that you need to get your fat asses to the line and plant them firmly between these monsters and civilization!” Phelts threw the receiver down and began his search in earnest. Behind the seat lay a long black gun with a thick, widebore barrel. He picked it up, sliding the pump underneath to load a round in the chamber. He was relieved to find that it even had shells in it already.

He turned and walked back to the center line. He had given everything for this moment, risked his life countless times, brought in men he could only hope he could trust, made it to the end and completed every goal he had set out to accomplish, and now he would have to risk it all again. He believed in Elandir, believed in the city she could again become, and wanted so badly to see it happen that he would do anything to bring it about.

The boats were closing with the land now, slowing as they drew in their oars and prepared to grind to a halt on the shore. It didn't matter how rocky the beach was, they would make their way up it, of that he had no doubt. More and more guns went silent as he could only assume the monsters were working their way through them through the trenches. He could see soldiers scrambling out of their bunkers in the distance and hear their guns on the wind as they attempted to defend themselves in their flight.

He hoped some of them made it, if for no other reason than he needed bodies to fill this gap and block the coming slaughter.

The blessed sound of trucks came rumbling up behind him as tailgates dropped and boots hit the ground. He didn't bother turning at first, watching as the first of the boats below began to run aground and drop their ramps.

“
Sir!” A lean captain appeared at his elbow. “Phelts, isn't it?”

“
That's right.”

“
Holy shit, sir.” The young man looked out over the battle below now.

“
Get your men beyond these bunkers. Nothing makes it up that hill alive. You hear me?” He turned to look the soldier in the eyes, punctuating each syllable for good measure. “Nothing.”

“
Aye, sir.” The captain turned and started giving his orders, sending his men down to take up firing positions below and on top of the bunkers.

“
And Captain!” Phelts turned before he made his own way down. “Watch your flanks. There are wolves in the bunkers. I want those guns back.”

“
We'll flush 'em out, sir.”

Phelts nodded before he turned and walked down to join the front ranks of the soldiers below. Hundreds of soldiers filed down and made a line to intercept the invasion. Phelts would join them. He wasn't a soldier, but he wasn't a coward either. He could fire a gun, and he would be damned if anyone that could shoot or kick or punch didn't do everything he could in this moment. He was no exception.

The red, writhing monsters below began to pour onto the beach and work their way slowly up the hill. They were revolting. Each looked like a flayed man turned octopus, their gaping mouths caught in an eternal gasp of horror, their blank eyes rolling in their gelatinous heads as their bloody tentacles writhed in the air. They only had two or three to speak of, where their arms should have been, and one or two larger ones on which they slid and pushed themselves forward.

“
What the hell are those things?” one of the soldiers behind asked as all eyes focused on the monsters below.

“
Fodder,” Phelts shouted as he pulled his gun up to aim.

“
They're monsters!”

“
The real threat will come behind them. Just wipe these out and get ready for the second wave.” He fired, sending a paff of red off the shoulder of his intended target but little else. The other soldiers began to pick their targets and fire as well.