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  Refuge: The Arrival

  Book 2

  A Novel of Fantasy/Science Fiction Fusion

  By

  Doug Dandridge

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Robert E. Howard. He captivated me with his tales of sword and sorcery, of barbarians striding through primitive worlds of the imagination. I visualized Atlantis, Valusa, Cimmeria and Aquilonia through his eloquent prose, as well as all of his larger than life heroes. He was a master, and he died much too soon. We missed out on a lot great fiction when he took his life at an early age.

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  Copyright © 2012 by Doug Dandridge

  All rights reserved.

  This book is Copyrighted 2012 to Doug Dandridge, all rights reserved. If you enjoy this work then please tell a friend and have them buy a copy online. I think the price is reasonable. Please do not pirate this work. I am a hard working part time writer, and am not making a fortune on my work. Please respect my efforts.

  “Son of a bitch,” exclaimed Captain George Burns, looking at the fortress through his field glasses. He had thought, looking at it in the darkness before the dawn, silhouetted by the moonlight, that it seemed menacing. Dark and foreboding. But he figured that in the light of day it would look like any other medieval fortress he had ever seen.

  But the stonework looked like nothing he had ever seen or imagined. Like basalt, black and glassy, with no joinings. It looked like it had been carved out of one single piece of rock. How, he didn’t know. But it had to be something beyond what he knew about stonework. Not, he admitted, that he had known much about stonework. But in this world he might have to learn.

  “Men are all in position,” said the man beside him, the senior NCO, hooked up to the command trac’s communication system. “We’re ready when you are.”

  The Captain looked again at the fortress, thinking about what might be inside. It was the size of the large fort he had seen in Wuzburg. The one that held a king and his court in Renaissance times. Which meant it could probably hold a couple of thousand troops, including mounts for cavalry.

  “I heard this is one of their Imperial Forts,” said the First Sergeant, Herb Garcia. “Home of their first line troops, and not their levies.”

  “That’s why we need to take it out,” said the Captain, nodding. “And it controls one of the valleys we’re sure to need for our establishment on this planet. As well as that fine road we came on.”

  And they have to know we’re here, thought Burns, sweeping the glasses over the battlements and noting the presence of armored men marching their rounds. Some of his men had run into patrols on their way here. They had taken out everyone they could account for, which didn’t mean some hadn’t gotten away. Or that messages hadn’t been sent to the fortress by some incomprehensible means.

  “On my command, open fire,” Burns said to his Top Sergeant, who was standing there, headphones on his head as he looked out at the fortress.

  The reinforced mechanized company should have no problem killing the natives. He had his fourteen APCs covering every approach to the fortress with their auto cannon, their dismounted infantry under cover closer to the structure with machine guns, auto rifles and rocket launchers. His three 120mm mortars were prepped and in range, while his attached platoon of four Abrams tanks were leveled and ready to fire. But his biggest surprise for the fort, the battery of four attached Paladin SP guns, would open the barrage.

  “There’s one of them damned dragons,” called a voice over the net.

  Burns cursed yet again as he focused the glasses on the large winged form that appeared on the wall. He estimated the scale from the small figure on its back, and thought that it was only the size of a couple of elephants. The creature screamed at the sky and leapt into the air. As soon as it gained height a couple of other shapes jumped after it, then two more, followed by a single, until there were six of the monsters circling the fortress.

  “Wizards and dragons,” mumbled the Captain, shaking his head. “Two of the things that can kill our vehicles. Wizards and dragons.

  “Top,” he said in a low voice to the NCO next to him. “Get on the horn and see if we can get some choppers up here. And see if our Linebackers can get a good firing solution on those beasts.” He only had two of the specialized Bradley AA tracs, and wished he had more. Hell, everyone wishes they had more of everything, he thought. That’s true of all military operations. But we’re like the Russians at Stalingrad. We have what we have, and it behooves us to make the most of it.

  “They look like they’re looking for something,” said one of the platoon leaders over the net.

  “Yeah, us,” answered another.

  The Captain felt the sweat working its way down his brow, even in the cool of the brightening morning. They were going to attack any moment, and copter support wouldn’t get here for at least a half an hour. And he wasn’t willing to wait that long.

  “This is Burns,” he said, pulling his own headphones on. “Change of order. Artillery is to set fuses to go off two hundred meters over the target. Time on target of four rounds each. Linebackers take the dragons under fire with all missiles or until all of the dragons are down. All auto weapons to target the dragons as well. Tanks go for targets of opportunity. Everything but artillery wait for the air bursts. Artillery open up on my command. Acknowledge”

  Burns looked up at the monsters, which seemed to be widening their circle over the fortress as the acknowledgements came over the circuit. He waited a half minute for fuses to be set, and then keyed his mike.

  “Fire,” he ordered over the circuit, then waited for the result. Twenty kilometers away, in another valley, the four Paladins fired their first rounds, arching them high into the air. Auto loading systems pushed the next round into the barrel even as those barrels were lowering elevation. Second rounds fired, third rounds loaded as the barrels dropped again. Fourth and final rounds loaded as the barrels dropped again, then recoiled as they sent the 155mm shells into the sky.

  Books by Doug Dandridge

  Doug Dandridge’s Author Page at Amazon

  Science Fiction

  The Exodus Series

  Exodus: Empires at War: Book 1

  Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2

  Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm (Coming Spring 2013).

  The Deep Dark Well Series

  The Deep Dark Well

  To Well and Back

  Deeper and Darker (coming Summer/Fall 2013)

  Others

  The Shadows of the Multiverse

  Diamonds in the Sand

  The Scorpion

  Afterlife

  Fantasy

  The Refuge Series

  Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1

  Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

  Doppelganger: A Novel of Refuge

  Others

  The Hunger

  Daemon

  Aura

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  Cast of Characters

  Empire of Ellala’lysana

  Half Lich Emperor Ellandra Mashara. Four thousand year old Emperor of the Death worshiping Empire of Ellala’lysana. Nearing the end of his race’s natural lifespan, he has embarked upon an attempt to become undead in order to “live” forever.

  General Prince Tristialla Mashara. Twenty-six hundred year old son of the Emperor. Commanding General of the Armies of the Empire.

  Queen of the Undead Kilesandra Lishana. Three
thousand year old (two thousand of mortal existence) priestess of the undead.

  Archduke Millosa Jakara. Archduke and Death Priest. Ruler of the Archduchy of Krashnagorda.

  Chieftain Girison Tortural. Village chieftain of the Gimikran people, Priest of Life, and a leader of resistance to the Gods of Death.

  Hunt Leader Lasasadar Klinisura. Hunt leader of the Conyastaya peoples and a leader of the resistance of the Gods of Death.

  High Priestess of Life Leinora Glassandora. Priestess of Arathonia and half-sister of Hunt Leader Lasasadar.

  Magratha: Seer of the Grogatha peoples and servant of the Emperor, while also feeding information to the resistance.

  Kingdom of Lianardas

  King Ellidron Kjanara. King of the Kingdom of Lianardas and lifelong enemy of Ellala’lysana.

  Princess Lissindra Kjanara. Daughter of Ellidron and High Priestess of the Gods of Life.

  High Commander Fenris Hallanta. Commander of elite border patrol cavalry regiment of the Kingdom.

  Other Allies

  Garios na Gonron. High War Priest of the Kingdom Under the Mountain.

  The Human Immortals

  Kurt von Mannerheim. Ex Wehrmacht officer, Captain of Panzergrenadiers. Born 1912. Seriously wounded by fire at the battle of Kursk and recovered with no apparent injuries. Has not aged since the apparent age of thirty.

  Ismael Levine. The Wandering Jew of legend. Born Year 43 BC under the Roman Empire. The oldest know human Immortal.

  Paul Mason-Smyth. Major, British Army of the Rhine (BAOR). Born 1984. Executive officer of First Battalion Sherwood Foresters (Mechanized Infantry). Unaware of his status at the time of transport.

  Jacquelyn Smith. First Lieutenant U S Army. Born 1994. The youngest of the transported immortals. Unaware of her status at the time of transport.

  The United States Army

  Major General Zachary Taylor. Commanding officer of the U S 3rd Armored Division. Highest ranking NATO officer to be transported to Refuge.

  Colonel Walter Delgado. Commanding officer of the third brigade, U S 3rd Armored Division.

  Captain Antwoine McGurk. Ranking officer of 3rd Squadron, 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment.

  Warrant Officer One Jessica Stuart. Pilot of a Comanche Gunship helicopter. Assigned to U S 1st Armored Division.

  Private First Class Salvadore Maritoni. Rifleman with Company B, 1st Battalion, Third Brigade, 1st U S Armored Division.

  Master Sergeant Paul Baurieth. A Team second in command, Fourth Special Forces Group.

  Sergeant Major Cliff Jackson. Senior NCO, U S 3rd Armored Division.

  Deutches Bundesweir

  Oberst Walther Wittman. Commander, First Brigade, 4th Panzergrenadier Division.

  Leutnant Franz Sturgil. Platoon Leader and tank commander, Company 1, 1st Battalion, First Brigade, 4th Pzrgrn Division.

  Senior Sergeant Johan Schmidt. Platoon Sergeant, 2nd Platoon, Company 3, 3rd Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 3rd Gerbigsjager Division.

  The German Civilians

  Dr. Vogel Kreigel, Biologist, Geneticist and creator of the Neowolves (New Wolves).

  Beate Terbourg, Citizen of the small Northern German City of Soegel.

  Dirk Winslow, half German half Black American lead guitarist and lead man for The Tarantulas, an up and coming German Rock Band.

  The University Faculty

  Professor Heinrich Raeder. PhD Chair of the Physics Department, Technical University of Munich.

  Professor Gertrude Fleiger. Professor of Chemistry. Technical University of Munich.

  Professor Margaret Deitricht. Professor of Physics and Nobel Laureate, Technical University of Munich.

  James Drake. Exchange student from London, Doctoral candidate in Physics and Schizophrenic. Technical University of Munich.

  Dieter Sturmfeld. Doctoral Candidate in Chemistry, Technical University of Munich.

  The Mages

  Doctor Gunter Schneider. Psychiatrist, Charite Campus Benjamin Franklin Klinic fur Psychiatrie.

  Stephan Neigal. Schizophrenic on Earth. Firemage on Refuge.

  Katherine Heidle. Schizophrenic on Earth. Weathermage on Refuge.

  Marcus Strom. Schizophrenic on Earth. Naturemage on Refuge.

  Prologue

  “I don’t like the things these newcomers bring to this world,” said the entity known as Bombadalus, the God of Plants and Agriculture.

  Arathonia sighed to herself once again as she looked over at the glowing ball of light that was the lesser deity. Lesser being was a relative term, as the creature known as Fiorin was still a mighty force in his own right. Mighty enough that the Queen of the Gods of Life was having a hard time controlling him. They are such children, thought the chief of the Life Gods, not realizing that she too could be petulant to an extreme.

  “How long must we argue the same point?” she asked in exasperation, glancing at the glowing sphere that was her husband, Yanon. “I thought we had this settled,” she said, her eye taking in the entire room of this dimension at the same time. The other eleven primary Gods and Goddesses were gathered here, along with the twenty-four lesser deities.

  “But the newcomers pollute our planet with their devices,” said Bombadalus, the God of Agriculture, his light flickering with anger.

  “Do you want our foe to win?” asked the Queen, feeling her own energy flicker as she fought to keep her anger under control. “Do you want Bothar to win, so he can continue to suppress out worshipers in Kraslas?”

  “I do not want our foe to win,” said Bombadalus, his light dimming in shame, then brightening in anger. “But these machines the strangers bring. Can we not do without them?”

  I am dealing with children, thought the Queen, her own lack blinding her to that quality within herself. I think I have them on my side, and then the next day they are once again fighting against me. “It takes all of my energy to undo what the rest of you try to subvert. I don’t even have the strength to oppose the God of Death. Why can you not see that we need to work together on this if we are to prevail?”

  Five of the other globes brightened into a soft light, the dozen smaller globes of the acolytes matching colors in sympathy. The other six large globes and their dozen subsidiary gods brightened in a different manner, showing petulant anger.

  “I give up,” roared Arathonia, her globe flaring to a sun like brilliance. “What am I to do with you?”

  “It’s not just the newcomers and their machines,” said Rhalina, the Goddess of Spring. “It’s their worship. Most of them worship the Overgod in some form or another.”

  “And do we not the same, in another form?” asked Yanon, coming to the defense of the Queen.

  “That is not the point,” said Bombadalus. “We do not gain energy from the worship of the High Lord. He does not funnel his power back to us. We only get what the mortals give us.”

  And we get more than that, thought Arathonia, who as the head of the Pantheon understood the nature of things much better than her subordinates. We also absorb their thoughts and desires, their dreams and wishes, so that we are no more than a composite of them, lacking the true free will of the mortals. And even though she knew that she was but a puppet to the mortals, she could do nothing about it. She must fulfill her appointed role.

  “We will gain power from these new humans,” she said after her brief thought. “Some will retain their worship of the Overgod. Others will see the benefit to themselves of our worship, and we will gain adherents down through the generations, until we double our worshipers. Triple even.”

  “It will benefit them in the here and now,” said Oceanus, god of the Sea. “But how will it benefit them in the long run, when they stay in the cycle of rebirth that is our legacy?”

  “The mortals do not think about the long run,” said Yanon, his light flickering in amusement. “They only think about the benefit that they will get in the here and now. Until they reach their end years. And then, who will care if they go back to the worship of the Overgod, as long as their c
hildren still worship us?”

  There was the murmur of thought communications among the deities, and finally agreement was reached.

  “So we agree to not hinder the new humans?” said the Queen of the Gods, looking down on her pantheon. “If not to actually aid them.”

  “I will aid them,” said Yanon, who the humans had assigned as the husband of a being who didn’t need one.

  “And we will not hinder them,” said Rhalina.

  Arathonia sent out the golden color of her satisfaction, and the other gods faded from the meeting room. All except her companion, Yanon, and their four subordinates. “I am glad that is over,” she said to her consort. “Would that it would be the last time I must rehash this with those fools.”

  “Maybe they will grow up and accept what they must,” said Yanon with a flicker of laughter.

  “Would that the Universe would age to its end,” said the Queen, returning the humor. “For that is what it will take.”

  Within hours Arathonia was again meeting with the petulant gods of her Pantheon, as they argued over what she thought had already been decided. Once again.

  Chapter One

  Fires sprung out along the hundred kilometers of road as the civilians cooked what food they had and settled down for the night after an exhausting day. The smell of fresh venison came from many of the fires, a bounty found left at intervals along the road by an unknown benefactor.

  Lt. Franz Sturgil nodded at several of the people sitting around a large fire. Some sat on lawn chairs they had carried in vehicles, while others sat on large logs that had been dragged from the edge of the forest. A middle aged man motioned for the officer to have a seat on a log and waved toward a pan of roast deer meat. Sturgil gave his thanks, speared a slab of meat with his mess kit fork and dropped it into his mess cup, then grabbed a seat.