Mud, Blood, and Magic 2 Chapter 3

Sam kept low on the crest of the trench, peering out over just enough to see the sights of his rifle. 

To his right was Henfri, and her booming rifle several yards away. 

To his left was a crater. 

Sam rested his head against the ground and took a moment to compose himself before opening his eyes again. 

Upon opening them, he noticed that the small hill he rested his rifle on was not, in fact, a mud covered log, but the barrel of a water-cooled machine gun coated liberally in dirt. 

‘I wonder…’ Sam thought, briefly setting his rifle aside to brush off the debris from the weapon. 

There was a chance, however small, that it might still be operable, even if its crew wasn’t. 

With a tug, the MG came out of the ground with a slurping sound, taking its belt of ammo with it. 

“Oh, this is gonna jam like a motherfucker.” Sam lamented, seeing that his prize seemed to be in good working order, if you discounted its newfound paint job. 

Hastily cleaning off the outside of the weapon, then its belt of ammunition, Sam wondered where its tripod had gone. It had no stock or bipod, just a butterfly trigger on the back, leaving him to figure out how to deploy it properly.

‘I’m gonna need more ammo too. I wonder if there’s any nearby.’

Searching the trench, Sam found what was left of the crew in the sump, but also found several wooden cartons of ammunition shattered with their belts partially spilling out - resembling their crew in a macabre way. 

Dropping off the step, Sam grabbed one of the boxes and hefted it up beside the machine gun, ready for him to use when he finished off the belt that was currently in the weapon. 

The enemy neared, and he was out of time to prepare. 

He gripped it by the handles, lined up the sights on a group of enemy soldiers charging the line, and squeezed, the recoil of the weapon slowly rattling him backwards as his hands began to feel numb. 

Letting off the trigger after he cut down several Darabadians, he set about looking for collections of the enemy. 

Squads grouped together, men taking cover in a crater, anything that a large volume of rounds would be better suited for than his men’s bolt-action rifles. 

As it turned out, he had been wrong about the weapon jamming - even after what was left of the mud-soaked belt, it ran like a sewing machine, simply grinding through round after round as it did its job.

When it ran dry, Sam briefly paused to figure out how the gun actually worked, beyond the semi-familiar trigger mechanism, trying to figure out how to open the top cover. 

After a moment, he twisted a toggle on the top and it simply popped up at him. Grinning proudly, Sam ripped it all the way up, pushed the remainder of the cloth belt off the feed tray, and rested a new one atop it before gingerly pushing the cover closed and twisting the knob back. 

Sighting back in, Sam lined up the next group of people, only for them to scatter as an explosion went off in their midst that was preluded by the boom of Henfri’s rifle. 

Smirking, Sam squeezed the trigger and proceeded to mow down the two closest of the enemy squad with a long burst of automatic fire. 

So he held his section of the line for the next ten minutes - emptying the box of ammunition for the belt fed, forcing him to return to his toggle-action rifle. The numbers of Darabadian infantry charging his trench had fallen drastically, now only a trickle of those who remained popping out of craters to fire one or two rounds before ducking back down.

Many times, it was just enough time for him to send a singular round through their chest or head. 

Many times, he simply had to wait for them to re-emerge from cover to send a shot at them.

A man popped up out of a still-smoldering crater from a fire spell for a split second, hucking what looked like a stick in Sam’s general direction. Sam tried to line up the shot, but the Darabadian ducked behind cover a second too soon. 

Worse still, the “stick” landed several yards away from Sam, just outside the trench. 

As his heart raced and his body felt entirely too sluggish, Sam pushed back off the embankment at the top of the trench and tried with all his might to fling himself into the bottom of the trench, lest the grenade do it for him. 

The shockwave came all too soon, sending him into an inky blackness that felt as if it lasted forever in an instant. 

His eyes felt heavy.

Opening them, he saw nothing but darkness. 

Then, his helmet was ripped off his face, and he found himself staring into the blurry face of Henfri. 

“Sam! Sam! Can you hear me?” Henfri panicked, shaking him by the shoulders. “Get up! We need to leave! They just sent another wave!” 

“I… fuck… fuck, okay. Goddammit.” Sam groaned, trying to push himself up to his feet, before he was literally picked up fireman-carry by Henfri. 

“Kara! Can you hold for one minute? I will get him to the rear, then cover your retreat!” Henfri demanded, adjusting Sam’s torso on her shoulder and rising to her feet. 

Forcing his neck to cooperate, Sam lifted his head up and turned to see Kara running toward them through the trench, coated liberally in blood. 

She spat a wad of something onto the ground, brushed off her nose with her wrist, and nodded. 

“Aye. Get him out of here.” Kara grimaced, snapping her fingers and sparking to life a spike of fire in her right hand. “I’ll keep the line just long enough for you and the others to move to the next trench.”

“Wait…” Sam wheezed as Henfri merely nodded, turned, and ran to a T in the trench, and turned back for the city. “Just… let me die. I can do it again.” 

“You will learn more the longer you are awake, yes?” Henfri demanded through heavy breaths, waiting for Sam’s reply that didn’t come. “Then wait a time longer, Sam.”

She was right. 

Sam knew it, but struggled with the instinct to free himself from Henfri’s back and run for Kara. Provide a tiny bit of overwatch for her. 

Even if all it would to is suppress the enemy long enough for Kara to cook up more spells. 

“Here. We set here.” Henfri informed, carefully dumping Sam off her back less than a minute later. “We shall cover her. The second line is just behind us, I believe.” 

Henfri rested Sam gingerly against the wall of the trench, patting his aching shoulder before unslinging Procjze from her back. Not that his aches were anything unusual, his entire body felt like one big bruise at the moment. 

Turning his head in the direction they’d come, Sam found he could indeed see down the long, snaking trench to the first line of defense - just barely. 

“KARA! TO US!” Henfri bellowed over the din of gunfire. 

Sam heard no reply. 

‘Come on, Kara…’ Sam hoped inside his thoughts. ‘You can do it. Just turn and run. Block off the trench and make sure no one follo-‘

Sam saw her. 

Half-running, half-limping through the trench, Kara ran for them, occasionally hurling a ball of fire, or a boulder over her shoulder. 

“Go! I’ll block it off!” Kara shouted through deep lungfuls of air, waving a hand to pressure Henfri and Sam to keep going. 

‘Well, that’s good at least.’ Sam thought, pushing himself to his feet from where he leaned. ‘Now we can wait and see what they do for the rest of the day. Then I can resta- oh fuck!’

Sam caught the moment when a stocky member of the Darabadians turned around the corner with a long, heavy-looking rifle, lined up Kara, and pulled the trigger. 

Kara’s chest disappeared a blink later, vaporized into nothing even as she tried to raise a barrier of fire behind her. 

‘Nope.’ 

Sam wrenched the revolver from its holster as Henfri raised her own AMR and pulled the trigger, returning the greeting in kind to the enemy soldier. 

He then put the pistol to his head, exhaled a breath, and pulled the trigger, lamenting the fact that he would have to do the day over again.

  *

His eyes felt heavy.

Opening them, he saw nothing but darkness. 

Then, his helmet was ripped off his face, and he found himself staring into the blurry face of Henfri. 

“Sam! Sam can you hear me?” Henfri panicked, shaking him by the shoulders as he tried to put together what just happened. “Get up! We need to leave! They just sent another wave!” 

Then it clicked. 

He’d been knocked out by the grenade’s blast, however briefly. 

‘Fuck!’ 

“Henfri… wait. Get Kara.” Sam hoarsed, shakily pushing himself to his feet. 

Or at least, trying to. 

All his efforts resulted in was him slipping painfully back into place against the wall of the trench as his hands lost their purchase. 

“Come, nest-mate. It is time for us to leave - this trench will be lost until reinforcements arrive.” Henfri explained with a deep exhale as she tried to pick Sam up under his armpits. 

“Hen! Wait! This is an -argh- Reset point.” Sam practically screamed through gritted teeth, noticing the jagged piece of metal lodged in his left shoulder. “Kara got vaporized by a Darabadian with an AMR last time.”

Shakily, Sam reached up to his left shoulder and ripped the long, thin piece of barbed wire remnants out before throwing it on the dirt several feet away. 

“Choizina!” Henfri spat under her breath, glancing quickly to the side and then back to Sam. “Can you walk? Fire your weapon?” 

Sam experimentally rolled one leg, and then the other. After a moment, he nodded.

“Yeah, slowly.” 

“Very well. Kara and myself will hold this section of the trench for another three minutes, at most.” Henfri explained, pulling Sam up to his feet carefully, before leaning him against the wall of the trench. “You will get to safety.”

Sam nodded, turning and walking along the inside edge of the trench wall before he was pulled forcibly into Henfri’s chest, where she began to violently rumble. 

It lasted a touch longer than would be considered appropriate for a goodbye hug, but as she pulled back, something in her eyes told him the gesture held far more meaning to her than a simple hug. 

A thunderous crack from beside them snapped Sam out of Henfri’s locked gaze, and he caught Kara pulling another pebble from the ground with her thoughts, before launching it out with another supersonic pop. 

His movements were slow, unsteady as he stumbled through the trench, and around the corner into the connecting trench that led back to Gerra. 

‘Where are you, Ellie? Shit just went somehow even more sideways over here, and I’m locked into a shit loop right now.’ Sam demanded in his head, hoping that the two could stall long enough for the reinforcements to arrive. 

‘We’ve reached the innermost trench, just beyond the Blackstreet.’ Ellie replied clearly, casting a mental image of the trench she ran through before it transitioned to the men behind her. 

From Sam’s best estimate, it was closer to two or three squads, rather than his hope of a company or more. 

‘Ellie, I don’t think we’re gonna be able to hold long enough for you to get here. I also don’t think that’s enough to retake and hold the outer trench.’ Sam stopped and turned around just behind a bend in the connecting trench to peer around and see where he’d come from. ‘Get the order to Amy - scuttle the outer trenches, collapse in and add extra fortifications to the secondary line. 

‘We need to condense our firepower if we want to have any chance at taking a real chunk out of them.’

‘I’ll let her know.’ Ellie acknowledged telepathically. ‘I’ll also tell the reinforcements to hold at the second line, and cover your retreat.’

‘You always know just what to say to make me happy!’ Sam shot back as he reached for the satchel at his side, stopping in his tracks as Kara tried to drag him along. 

From it, he withdrew a small, break action pistol, and loaded a yellow-striped round into the action before pointing it up and firing. 

Quickly, he flicked the action back open and stuffed an orange flare into it, repeating the process. 

‘Yellow, then orange for an orderly retreat.’ 

“We’re retreating, then?” Kara queried, raising a brow. “We’re not even going to try and retake the trench?” 

“No.” Sam answered with a small shake of his head, leaning against the wall of the connecting trench as he stuffed the flare gun into the satchel. “No point. We don’t have the manpower.” 

Sam grit his teeth as he heard the boom of a powerful rifle behind him, hoping it was Henfri’s. 

Slowly, with Kara’s help, he hobbled deeper into the trench before stopping again, much to Kara’s dismay. 

“Wait,” he struggled against the Dwarf’s attempts to get him further away from the line. “We wait here for Henfri. When she catches up a bit more, then we get moving again.

“I’m not leaving her behind.” 

He waited for a lull in the gunfire, ripping the revolver from its holster and grabbing a board at the edge of the trench, pulling himself up just enough to peer over.

Sam saw the second wave crossing no mans land and exhaled a ragged breath. 

The first wave was barely a probing force by comparison. 

When the lull came, he inhaled deeply before bellowing:

“HENFRI! FALL BACK!”

Then, he blew a whistle around his neck, hoping at least one of the calls would make it through the howling firefight. 

He leaned the revolver into a gap in the mud, and waited, mentally zooming in the sights as he waited for that fucker with the AMR. 

The stocky man came up over a short mound, stopped, and aimed towards Sam, but not at him - likely at Henfri. 

Sam exhaled and pulled the trigger - the round ripping a basketball sized chunk out of the Darabadian’s chest as it sent him flopping back ass over teakettle. 

Sam heard her before he saw her, thudding footsteps approaching across the wooden boards at the base of the trench. 

Henfri rounded the corner looking to Sam and Kara confusedly after sliding to a stop. 

“Why have you not gone further? They are right behind me!” 

“Not leaving you-“ Sam cut off as a blast of magical artillery shot muck and stone over the side of the trench, pelting his helmet and shoulders. “-Behind.” 

Henfri sighed, shaking her head before glancing back over her shoulder. 

“Continue deeper - I will hold this bend for sixty seconds, then retreat to you.” She instructed, looking back to him as she drew the pistol that had once been his from its holster. 

Henfri leaned her AMR up against the side wall and nodded her head in the direction Sam was supposed to go.

Sam nodded, wishing his restarting worked more on-demand than simply when he slept - like a save-state from a videogame. 

He dropped down, grunting as the fall of less than a foot hurt his right hip. In fact, his entire body felt like a bag of broken glass right about now.

Sam hobbled deeper down the straight trench, slowly but surely until another round of that magical artillery slammed home behind him, the blast knocking him to his knees and pelting him with earthen shrapnel. 

“Fuck.” Sam groaned, spinning around onto his rear and hoping that Henfri hadn’t just been vaporized by the explosion. 

Instead, as the billowing smoke cleared, he saw her holding her forehead and stumbling into the wall of the trench. She looked up to Sam briefly, revealing that there was a large cut over her left eye that spilled blood down her face and neck. 

An odd pinging noise sounded, and sparks danced on Henfri’s right shoulder, her stumbling coming to a slow halt as the world greyscaled. 

The sounds of gunfire stilled. 

Falling debris stopped where it fell in the air. 

Sam waited, not sure what he’d see. Not sure who he’d see. 

On the left side of the trench stood the Princess, staring down with a sad frown at Henfri, not saying or doing anything immediately. 

On the other side materialized a mountain of a woman, even by Draconic standards, scales of a vibrant vantic black that absorbed the light around her and glossy blood red. 

“Why do you insist on blocking my bond with her, child?” the black and red Dragon questioned into the still wartime air. “On blocking my power from manifesting?” 

“I will not have you try and corrupt her as you wished to do to me, mother.” The Princess answered, not looking up from Henfri. “As you succeeded with my sisters.”

“You deny her her birthright - the last gift I can provide my womb-fruit purely to spite me for centuries-old power struggles?” the Queen scoffed, looking down to Henfri, then back up to the Princess. “You know as well as I that she will not live through this without it - the threads of her fate are spun and woven without my aid. 

“You wish for her and her chosen to live? Then so be it, I will cast my shadow over her and their union, and shade them from the blinding light of war. All you need to is let me.” 

The Princess closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, looking up to the sun overhead. 

“Treachery - what end to you play at?” The Princess asked in a rumble, her mouth twisting into a scowl. “All those centuries ago, we fought because my chosen was human. Yet wi-“

“She is not in line for any throne save for that she makes herself.” The Queen answered matter-of-factually, extending broad, black wings wide to the side and up. “And besides, there was something I took far more to heart about your mate than his kin.

“He was weak.”

The Princess’ head shot up, eyes sparking dangerously. 

“He lacked the heart to rule by your side.” The Queen turned her eyes on Sam, tilting her chin up to stare down over her nose at him. 

Sam knew the expression from Henfri - it was a challenge, a choice between submission and rivalry. He’d seen it often when Henfri instructed new recruits with Noiesjel, if they argued with them. 

Sam could move nothing but his eyes, and chose to meet the dark Dragoness with equal bravado. 

“Look. Even now, knowing that he witnesses two deities, he does not turn down his eyes.” The Queen stared at him for a moment longer before she dipped her nose in acknowledgment and turned back to her daughter. “Had you brought a man like that to the palace, I may have been more… understanding. 

“So yes, for her I will gladly bend the accords to my will and shoulder any consequence. Just let me in.”

The Princess flicked her eyes to Sam momentarily as she seemed to weigh the situation. Then, she smiled sadly, looked back to her mother, and nodded once, making a dismissive wave at Henfri that seemed to do nothing. 

“So be it.” 

The Queen smiled, and from her hands flowed a smoke as black as her scales, coiling itself around Henfri. 

The smoke stilled and stood in the shape of wings over her shoulders, the vanished as the world resumed. 

Henfri’s lips curled up into a snarl and she let loose a wild howl just before a Darabadian made the mistake of rounding the corner behind her. 

Henfri whirled, grabbing the poor soul by the shirt and throwing him into the wall of the trench. 

“DARABADIAN SCUM!” Henfri roared, slashing the man’s face to a bloody pulp with her claws. “YOU HAVE STOLEN FRIENDS FROM ME.”

More soldiers flooded behind her, and she charged them too. 

“YOU WILL NOT TAKE THEM TOO!” Hefnfri shouted, ripping the face off the second man. Her voice seemed odd, as if it were actually two people using the same mouth. “MY FRIENDS, MY PEOPLE, MY HOME!”

Her neck darted out to the third man who tried to lift his rifle, jaw unhinged, biting off and swallowing his head whole. 

“COWER AND RUN. FLEE!” four soldiers around her shakily aimed rifles, seeming to be unwilling to fight or flee. They simply stood there, looking unsure what to do. “You are outmatched.” 

The soldiers obliged, simply dropping their weapons and sprinting back around the trench from whence they came. 

Henfri picked up Procjze from where it leaned against the wall and began to walk back towards Sam and Kara with a flat expression. 

Kara picked Sam up by his arm, hefting him to his feet wordlessly as Henfri neared. 

“Let us be rid of this place. The sappers will see to the burial of our fallen.” Henfri rumbled darkly, referencing the explosive charges lain beneath the trenches. 

Sam nodded and turned, leaning on Kara as he hobbled back towards the second line. It was clear that Henfri didn’t want to talk at the moment, nor was this the place to do it. 

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Sorry I've been inactive. Been going through... some personal issues that all happened at once, as well as overtime at my day job.

I'll keep billing turned off until I get a chance to really dig into writing again, which hopefully will be soon.