Mud, Blood, and Magic 2 Chapter 2

Sam took a seat on the lounge chair that he’d dragged up the stairs over a week ago, staring through the massive hole in the wall that overlooked a large swath of the city, and the trench network beyond. The central keep had a fantastic view of the surrounding land, and the fight going on out there.

In truth, he felt far more at home in those trenches than he did playing ‘decision-man’ as he’d taken to calling his role since the bombing.

But until things got significantly worse, he had his role to play.

Bleed the Darabadians dry in Gerra. Make them sacrifice an unreasonably high number of soldiers for every inch of trench, every alley, and any building they managed to get their hands on. And the best way for him to do that was by creatively and intelligently leading his men.

Pulling out the magical revolver he’d purloined from the late Captain Jarrus’ body, Sam pointed it out towards the distant stalemate. With a thought, the air atop the sights of the weapon magnified to a borderline unrealistic degree, giving him more than a clear view of the outskirts of the city.

Old farmhouses turned to rubble.

Entire swathes of forest charred, shattered, and broken until the land resembled nothing but a soul-consuming swamp.

Then, on the other side of moon-like field of craters, bodies, and wire lay the few visible edges of the Darabadian lines.

Sandbags stained almost black with mud, the tops of helmets sticking fractionally over the edge of the trenches, and periodic machine guns facing into the muddy hellscape between.

‘Really is just like the first world war.’ Sam noted with a dark chuckle, before a house sized ball of fire jumped from the Darabadian trench, up into the sky, and down just behind his own lines. ‘Except I have to deal with a whole new layer of bullshit.’

Not only was Sam vastly outnumbered, but many of the regiment’s Mages had been ripped to shreds by the bombing along with their officers.

If Sam had had artillery, or even mortars, it wouldn’t be nearly as much of a problem.

However, he didn’t.

The constant bombardments left him with a distinct lack of any fire superiority, not even really able to position mages to fire back when the enemy lobbed their spells.

Blessedly, the enemy mages never launched anything with a larger explosive force than a mortar shell, but the problem was that their fire was far more accurate.

First-shot hits wherever they were aiming, like a gun that had already dialed them in.

‘At least there’s no gas.’ Sam snorted and rolled his eyes at the fortune. ‘I’m glad that even with all the bullshit, they still haven’t figured out how to make mustard gas or chlorine.’

Sam re-holstered the revolver and sighed, crossing his arms as he felt a gentle presence in his mind.

‘Gas really is the least of our worries, love. At this point, I’m worried far more over why we haven’t seen any wyverns as of late.’ Ellie offered in Sam’s head, reminding him for the however-teenth time that he was in no way alone in his thoughts. ‘Honestly. The fact that we haven’t seen any, even from our side is rather concerning.

‘It either means that we’re such a small concern that they’ve been tasked somewhere else, or that they’re holding them in reserve for something big.’

‘Yeah, well. I gotta make do with what I’ve got, right?’ Sam quipped back neutrally before adding: ‘speakin’ of what I’ve got, has Kara managed to gather everyone up? Meeting’s soon, and I’d like to have your logistics team with me when I debrief the General.’

‘We’re coming up the stairs right now, actually.’ Ellie answered with a cheerful tone before she sent him a small mental giggle. ‘Did I ever tell you that you have such a lovely flair for the dramatic? Holding this chat in the bombed-out penthouse of the keep will certainly set a tone for our dear General.’

‘I just figured a little ambiance would help communicate the situation to a pencil-pusher.’

Ellie didn’t reply, but Sam heard the footsteps climbing the towers spiral staircase behind him. Sam stood, picked up the chair by the back, and spun it around to face the door.

Henfri, of course, was first into the room - her long AMR resting atop her shoulder like a battleaxe as she held the barrel like a haft.

Following her was the diminutive-by-comparison Kara, then the even further tiny Goblin, Zee.

Ellie was behind them, having a effervescent conversation with Amiaranthae, or Amy - the Elven Mage that had once been their enemy.

Following the small flood of women was First Sergeant Stahlbrecher, a grey-haired, no-nonsense noncommissioned officer who had taken over much of Sam’s own duties for running Fox company while Sam attempted to organize what was left of a Regiment.

Part of the reason Sam had requested the man join them was to try and convince the General to promote him to Sergeant Major, and more or less give the man a rank that actually represented his responsibilities.

It likely wouldn’t matter to the man, but he imagined he would have a far easier time wrangling the lower enlisted.

At least, Sam hoped so.

Sergeants Major could have a hell of an imposing presence, as Sam remembered several occasions from early in his career where one had managed to organize an entire unit simply due to their proximity alone.

“Afternoon, sir.” Stahlbrecher nodded respectfully as he caught Sam’s eyes on him.

“First Sergeant, glad to see you’re still kicking.” Sam smiled warmly and sat down in his chair. “How’re the boys from Fox doing?”

“Well as can be said, given the shitshow out there.” The First Sergeant groused, crossing his arms over his chest. “The closest thing we give anyone to rest is patrolling inside the walls, looking for saboteurs.

“That’s where they were until Baker company lost the outer fighting positions in the northeast. Most of first and second platoon went out to retake the lost trenches.”

“Weird. I could’ve sworn I gave the order to fall back and hold stronger positions.” Sam grunted and raised an eyebrow at the First Sergeant, who shrugged absently.

“Must not have got it in time, eh?”

Sam smirked, shaking his head before turning to Kara.

“Alright. Let’s get the General on the horn, give her the report.” Sam nodded at the Dwarf, who already held the stones in her right hand. Idly, Kara directed the gate over to Sam’s left atop a small pile of debris that would give the General a view of not just the occupants of the room, but also the massive chunk missing from the wall.

When the greyscale oval of magic shredded to life before them, Sam was greeted with a view of a surprising number of people on their side as well.

General Keyrinnjha was flanked on her right by the Mr. Minehammer, a waifishly-thin pale man with a face that made Sam immediately think of a skull, and a well-muscled, absurdly well-armed Orc.

On her left was another Orc with a significantly lighter shade of green to his skin, smaller tusks, and a greying handlebar mustache. On top of that, he was immaculately well dressed in a fine suit with a fur cape clasped over his chest with a golden chain.

Behind him was a woman that felt achingly familiar.

A powerful-looking Drake-kin in a neatly-pressed black and gold military dress uniform, decorated with a slew of medals that was sure to weigh well into the low pounds.

She eyed the portal with a stoic frown, seeming to look for something before she smiled with a row of razor-sharp teeth. Her slit-like pupils widened until they were nearly round as she her eyes slowly panned to Sam.

“Capitan Volkjel.” The General greeted with a polite smile and a nod.

“General Keyrinnjha.” Sam returned the favor before idly gesturing at his fellows. “I’d like to introduce you to my headquarters team, if you don’t mind.

“If I’m not available to chat with, any one of those here is more than capable of dealing with whatever you need, so I figure you should know who you’re chatting with ahead of time.”

“Please do.” The General quirked a brow and interlocked her fingers on her desk.

“Alright, so, you’ve already met Warrant Officer Coalbelt, my magical advisor, but from there on, We have Staff Sergeant Elanor Vezir, my aide - she handles most of the manpower assignments for the defense along with supply and logistics.

“We also have Chief Veserik, no relation, currently in charge of magical defenses and countermeasures in the field. Corporal Vomfreet’zee runs a uhm… rather unique crew of goblins in the city’s sewer system, performing counter-infiltration operations down there.

“The giant wall of meat you see next to her is another Corporal performing far above their pay grade, Henfri Razkjec. She’s second-in-command for Sergeant Noiesjel’s scouting detachment - he couldn’t be here unfortunately, but him and his men are stretched rather thin and he’s one of the best shots we have.

“Last and certainly not least is First Sergeant Stahlbrecher, who does a bit of everything for everyone. I’d like to promote him to Sergeant Major of the regiment, effective immediately. Given how he keeps everyone in line and in check, I think it’s the right play to make.”

“Done.” The General nodded, turning fractionally on the other end of the Mage-Gate to smile warmly at Stahlbrecher. “It’s good to meet you, Sergeant Major. We’ll have the promotion ceremony once this war is a little more… calm.”

“Understood, General.”

“Now, I have my own fair share of… introductions to carry out. On my right is Duke Cordell, and his butler, Mr. Stebaen.” The General offered as the Orc slammed a fist against his chest.

“Well met, Captain.” The Duke grinned in a way that put his tusks on proud display. The skeleton-like man behind him simply nodded silently.

“He has taken something of a passing interest in your defense, and is has campaigned before the Ducal council on your behalf. On my other side is Representative Vol’Rashem, of the Shamalian Republic.” General Keyrinnjha steepled her fingers and bounced them forward at Sam. “The Republic have sent three brigades of volunteers to us, effectively halting the advance of Darabad just south of you, at least in part.

“Your continued existence in spite of their assault is the other half of that. The numbers they dedicate to trying to crush you are likely responsible for the severe manpower shortage we’re seeing on the front lines.”

‘Shamali.

‘I know that name from somewhere, don’t I?’ Sam halfway thought to himself and Ellie.

Then it hit him.

‘Henfri’s mom. She’s a colonel in the Shamalian military, right? Shock troops or something?’

The General turned her hand fractionally to the deep forest green Drake-kin just behind and to her left, and Sam decided to take a gamble.

“Colonel Razkjec, it’s nice to finally meet ya’.” Sam greeted in a far more informal way, gaging that Henfri’s mother would likely be an older, slightly more wizened version of her daughter. This meant, by his estimation, that she would respond far better to clarity and honesty, as opposed to rigid military politeness. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your daughter, along with the reputation of the Twenty-Third. I take it that they’re one of the units joining the fight?”

With a slightly shocked expression, General Keyrinnjha glanced over her shoulder to the Colonel, who lifed her jaw slightly and smiled.

“My men currently shred through the Darabadian lines just north of Kelarrin city.” Henfri’s mother offered with a deep, prideful rumble and a toothy smile that shared so much in common with Henfri’s, it made Sam wonder how he hadn’t seen the resemblance as soon as she was in view. “I volunteered to tip the spear that pierces to your southern line, and I intend to hold steadfast in that duty.”

‘It’s like if Henfri studied a dictionary…’

“That’s what I like to hear, Colonel. As much as I’d love to catch up, though, we’ve got some bigger problems to deal with. We’re running low on supplies. That goes for both ammunition and sustainment. Way I see it, we’ve got a little under two weeks left of food, and just over that of ammo, provided operational tempo remains the same.

“I don’t think it will. They’ve dug in hard recently, and have begun probing our defenses at an increased rate.”

Sam stood up from his chair and waved a hand over to the missing section of the wall.

“As you can see, we’re dealing with a lot over here.”

When the portal slowly meandered over to the vista, as if punctuating his words, the Darabadians launched a positively massive wall of spells.

Fire, air, and earth magic all arced over the battlefield like a tidal wave before it crashed into the trenches of Sam’s men. Then it was followed by another wave.

Sam watched as a third, then a fourth came down, and realized what was happening.

The Darabadians rarely, if ever launched more than three rounds of magical artillery.

This was clearly an attempt to concentrate fire and soften up that particular line for an assault.

‘Fuck.’

“Chief Veserik, you’re in charge of our logistics team. Continue to brief the general as you see fit.” Sam ordered, feeling that he’d finally had enough of simply waiting around in the “safe” parts of the city. “Henfri, Kara, on me. We’re going to the line.

“Stahlbrecher, Ellie, I need you two to run circles, gather up anyone not currently tasked and bring them out to the trenches.” Sam grimaced as the first rumbling rattle reached him from the barrage. “I have a feeling that this attack is gonna be a big one.”

* * *

Near immediately, the sparse, mostly-demolished buildings of the Blackstreet gave way to several trench entrances.

Deep cuts in the earth made by shovel and, once closer to the line, Earth magic. Many of the ones here, closer to the Blackstreet, had been constructed as or before Sam arrived after the battle of Gerra pass.

Jogging forward, Sam made his way deeper into the trenches and past the men working in the rear.

What few Mages were left were often stationed here, just behind the front itself.

Less than three hundred yards was left between him and where the spells had hit the very front trench networks and fighting positions.

Thankfully, in the ten or so minutes it had taken him to make it from the central keep to the Blackstreet, the barrage had quieted somewhat.

Spells still came, but fell at far less frequent rate, about one every thirty seconds now.

‘Gotta hustle. If they’re calming down, that means they’re gonna start throwing infantry here soon enough.’

‘Most likely. I was just up on the wall, and Noiesjel has spotted the first waves coming towards you - be ready, they may already be in the trenches by the time you arrive.’ Ellie informed him via their telepathic connection.

“Alright. Looks like they’re crossing over, might even be there by the time we arrive.” Sam told the women behind him with a passing glance backward, before waving his hand beckoningly. “Let’s pick up the pace for the final stretch.”

With that said, his jog became a sprint, twisting and turning through the trenches as his rifle rattled in its sling, smacking against the wall.

It was far too long for these close quarters, but it was what he had.

A magical spell that he couldn’t identify slammed into the ground ahead of him as he turned into the next section of trench, showering him with debris, mud, and viscera from the poor unfortunate soul that had once been standing there.

It also flung him back, stopping him dead in his tracks and leaving his vision blurry.

Grunting, Sam was helped to his feet by Henfri. He wiped away his eyes and looked ahead to a now-wounded squad of soldiers.

He couldn’t recognize them under all the mud.

The men simply looked like walking terracotta soldiers with stunned, wide eyes as they stared at the place where their compatriot had once been.

Sam had to bite back the instinct to simply put the gun to his head and try the day over again at the sight. He might still do that later, after he learned everything that would happen and how to counter it, but now was not the time.

“Make a hole!” Sam commanded as he started back forward, this time at a much slower pace, given the fact that he had the spins after an explosion went off so close.

The men complied, looking up to him with wide, confused eyes.

They likely hadn’t fully taken in that their friend was just… gone.

Sam shook it off, trying not to think about what he’d just witnessed. This was war and he had a very simple job to do right now.

Get to the line, and hold it as best he could while he waited for reinforcements.

If there even would be any.

‘Senire protect us.’

Another spell slammed home nearby, this time blessedly above the trench’s crest. It only served to shower him in falling mud and pebbles.

Sam approached the front line trench just as the ringing in his ears abated, greeted only with the sounds of screaming and gunfire permeating the air alongside the smell of burnt gunpowder.

Sam’s boot slipped on something slimy, and he only just barely stopped himself from completely landing face-first in the muddy sump. Looking to see what he tripped over, he discovered it was a long trail of intestine from a corpse. The top half of a body, to be exact - with no bottom half to be found.

The corpse goaned, lifted a hand towards him with a wheeze, and he found himself staring into the eyes of Sergeant Corella, who currently commanded what remained of Fox company’s first platoon.

Or had.

Then the hand dropped back to the ground, moving no more.

“Fuck.” Sam blinked and shook his head as he growled to himself. “Gotta stay the course. See this through. I can just… die and do it all again. Make sure this doesn’t happen.”

So he pushed onward to the outermost trench.

All he found there was more of the same.

Shredded bodies by the dozen, blood coagulating in the mud beneath his feet in a way that made walking feel like a herculean task.

The ones who were still whole, or at least coherent currently held positions on the crest of the trench - firing, reloading, and firing again.

“Kara. Kara! Start working on getting our defenses back into shape! See if you can repair the spikes and make some fatal funnels for our boys!” Sam shouted over the din at the woman, who’s eyes were as wide as saucers. The Dwarf’s skin had also taken on a greenish pallor, in the few places that weren’t liberally coated in mud.

Sam was about to turn to Henfri and instruct her to get on the line and start taking shots, but as it turned out she was already doing that.

She grabbed a rifle out of the mud, shook it off, and then ripped several pouches of ammunition off the belt of a dead soldier. Henfri jumped up to a step on the wall and tossed the much smaller rifle and ammunition beside herself before she pulled Procjze off her back and rested it atop a sandbag.

Nodding at the Kin’s back, Sam turned to Kara again, who still looked shellshocked.

She probably was.

“Kara!” Sam shook the Mage’s shoulders gently, causing her eyes to dart back to him. “Kara! Get those spikes back up! We can help the wounded later!”

“A-aye!” Kara’s voice was shaky, much like her entire body.

“Get going - we have to hold until Stahlbrecher and his reinforcements get here! I need you for that, there’s no other Mages here!”

With that said, Sam patted Kara on her shoulder, turned, and set up several yards down the line from Henfri, resting his rifle in a small mound of mud.

In the distance, he could see them.

Darabadians crossing no man’s land like ants swarming a kill.

Sam grit his teeth when he realized how close they were likely to get.

“Company!” he bellowed, loud enough to cause a momentary lull in the gunfire. “Fix bayonets.”