Authors: Len Gilbert
“I see. It looks like wolves will be our greatest threat.”
“They could be. But I’ve heard there is another threat coming, only once, but still.”
“And what is that?”
“A green-skinned warrior race is invading much of this land from somewhere. I walked for weeks to get away from the threat, although I’ve seen no sign of them at all.”
“Thank you Herr Hepner. I will keep that in mind. It’s a bit much to take in right now…” Peiper turned away and looked toward the bunker and line of trenches.
“New arrivals are showing up every day, and we’re already crowded. If we really are in a new world, then these men deserve to finally lead normal lives.”
After talking to Peiper, Hans realized this place wouldn’t be as harsh as he thought it would be. He made up his mind: He and Sarah would stay here.
Immer Vorwarts
TWEEEEET!
The scream of Petch-Key’s whistle rang in Vahn’s ears and echoed through his mind. He felt dryness in his throat, but his comrades only saw him standing there primed to crown their assault.
TWEEEEEET!
Yes, Petch-Key’s whistle screamed indignantly at Vahn again, but already he had taken off into the snow. The sprint felt like slow motion, the jump even slower, but then he landed perfectly on the bounded Wolftaur and made a swing at the mounted raider. Then everything went visceral.
For one slow breath he felt his spirit leave his body, as if watching himself from above as his body acted, and gouged the Raider through the throat in one fluid motion. Just as he’d been taught. Vahn felt himself snapped back into his body, mounted atop the bounded wolftaur. With no thought the young wolf took out his hand-knife and shoved it in through the writhing wolftaur’s ear.
Vahn’s mind returned to him after those two seconds, and he could quickly feel the green army bearing down on him. He somersaulted down and rolled back into the trench just before a line of ballista arrows launched out to claim easy targets in the attacking green wall.
“Stay down Vahn! Boomsticks coming!”
An unknown wolven voice called out when Vahn tried to get a look over the trench. In a second explosions tore into the snowy ground and blew away any Raider unfortunate enough to be near one. Despite the carnage the Raiders kept charging forward. Soon a few dozen spear-holding wolves leapt over the trench and onto the remaining invaders. Vahn heard a chorus of snarls and screams ensuing, and it looked like even Petch-Key had joined the fight. The human commander ran into the fray with a knife tied to his long hand cannon.
“W-we’re doing it!”
One of the lasso-men grabbed Vahn by the arm and shouted gleefully at the sight.
“Finally! I told you! I told you we could beat them!”
Vahn stared out over the precipice to view the same thing: Greenskin attackers being mauled and jumped on, their black blood coloring the pristine snow.
TWEEEEET!
Petch-Key’s mad whistle sounded again, clearing out the holes and trenches for a headlong attack. All of them picked up spears and charged out at the Greenskins.
———
“Yeah!”
The trench erupted in excitement as they watched Kristiyan flawlessly run a raider through and deliver the death blow to another wolftaur. It was Kristiyan’s third kill. And yet still the monsters thundered forward on foot from behind. Their large numbers and fierce axes overwhelming the thin line of spear-wielding wolves.
“Get out!” A lieutenant shouted at Kasha and the tripod gunners.
“They’ve broken through. Grab a spear, go!”
The frantic officer was mustering whatever defense he could to hold the position, leaving the tripods unmanned. The monsters broke toward the trench before the ‘leutnant’ could even gather a second defense. Nobody stood between the Greenskins and the dugout.
“Don’t let them through!”
The lieutenant turned his head and darted to the tripod.
“Mein leutnant,” Kasha shouted over the noise, “feed the ballista arrows into the cartridges. I can fire this.”
The lieutenant, Kasha’s superior, dropped his spear and shoved three ballistas into the cartridge one-by-one. Up above, the Raiders already had the wolves panicking and running back to the trench.
“Aim at the middle now,” Kasha thought to himself. Trembling, he launched the first ballista only for it to sail past one of the Greenskin’s head.
“For the love of the gods, hit them!” The lieutenant shouted.
It was too late. The first monster pounded into the trench next to them. Kasha shook his head and trained his sights to the still-charging monsters, picked the closest target and launched the ballista. This time it slammed against the Greenskin’s chest and slid through, killing him. Kasha looked over and saw the lieutenant had abandoned the position and joined the trench fracas that seemed to be closing in like a vice from both sides. Just ahead a Greenskin jumped for the trench and aimed directly for Kasha and the tripod. Kasha closed his eyes and pulled the trigger one last time. He felt the tripod kick back and the Greenskin fell down dead, covering the trench as the fighting closed in around him.
He heard a crash and thud to his left. It was Kristiyan, leading a small pack of wolves.
“That you in there Kasha?”
“Yes Herr Kristiyan!” He shouted, pulling the tripod out and shoving the monster’s cadaver to the front of the trench.
“Does the tripod still function?”
“Jawohl.”
“Good, set it back up and then pick up a spear. Your platoon commander was killed. I am putting you in charge. There are fourteen left plus yourself. Our Kompanie is going on the attack. Choose ten of them to advance, and four to stay in the trench.
Even as they spoke, the last of the hand-to-hand combat was winding down within earshot. Kasha had never lead anyone before. He felt queasy, and Kristiyan must have noticed it.
“You don’t have a choice, Kasha.”
“Sir, I know. But if I may ask, why are we attacking when we are so outnumbered?”
“Poetschke’s Kompanie broke through in the south. He is driving to retake Balaton and take out Oxbane’s camp. We must push forward in the north, too, to cover his flank during the attack. I’ve decided we must advance some one hundred Terras, and then we’ll dig in there.
Ambassador
A crowd had gathered outside the bunker, and they all hushed when Peiper walked through them up to the bunker door, with Hans following closely behind.
“Please wait here,” Peiper said to Hans, then turned to the crowd.
“Kameraden, I will address our situation shortly. Gefreiter Hepner has some personal matters, and I ask you for all to respect his privacy.”
Peiper opened the bunker door and Hans entered the cavern. Peiper followed him though and shut the door. Tex glanced over at them. Dr. Bruestle was focused on the patient on the table, Sarah.
“She’s going to make it,” the doctor said.
Hans felt a huge weight leave his shoulders when he heard the good news.
“But,” he continued, “she has damage to her voice box. She won’t be able to speak for a long time, maybe never again.”
Hans looked down at his mate. She looked as relieved as he was.
“Everything’s going to be alright now. See? These humans are nice. They will help to protect you and you will live with me.”
Sarah looked up and smiled, then nodded softly and shut her eyes.
“She’ll need time to recover, I believe,” Dr. Bruestle said.
“The good thing is that she isn’t too scared of us anymore. I still have a little more work to do, but she’ll be able to finally rest this evening.”
Hans thanked the surgeon, and then Peiper joined them by the table.
“Herr Hepner, if you don’t mind, I owe it to everyone to explain what’s going on. And I will need your help to do so.”
“Oh. Hm. What would you have me do, Herr Standartenfuehrer?”
“Hopefully nothing. But the men outside need to know what’s happened to them, and you’re the man to best answer any questions they may have.”
Hans nodded and gave Sarah’s paw one final squeeze. He went back outside with the commander. The crowd had grown larger. It looked as if around 200 men were gathered around. Most of them wore SS collars.
“
Kamerads
,” Peiper took their attention.
“We were all very mistaken about our situation. This is not Bavaria. To you this may sound strange, but we are in some other world. Some other place. And the injured woman in that bunker is living proof of that.”
“I don’t know this world at all, but one of our comrades has trekked in it for months to the place we now stand. He told me stories of animals that stand upright like we do. Some friendly, some not. He says this world has empires, large cities on far-off shores, magic, of expansive forests and terrible beasts. We also may not be alone. Someone is flying one of our aircraft over the cities of this world. These are all things we may face, or perhaps not.”
“But, more importantly, for you, I want you to know that our war is over. The ancient virtues we rekindled and held up were hated by various governments of the world. Luckily for us, the indolence and hate of those nations are not present in this world, and in good time I believe you’ll find that a blessing. You all deserve long, prosperous, lives. That’s what I intend on creating here. A place made in our image, by our ideals and ours alone.”
“Starting tomorrow! We will begin building a modest place for every man here, and we will not stop until every one of you has a roof over your head that you can call your own.”
Within the crowd many faces turned to smiles at the commander’s last statement.
“I want to introduce you to Gefreiter Hans Hepner.”
Hans looked down as all eyes shifted to him.
“Gefreiter Hepner is the one who has journeyed in this world for several months. He has had contact with many races. Consider Gefreiter Hepner to be our guide and our ambassador to the outside world. He is from the Grossdeutschland and, from my impressions, he is a good man worthy of your trust.”
Blunt
“Over there,” Sturmbannfuehrer Poetschke’s voice directed Vahn’s attention to a hillock crowned by an old wooden drinking trough. It looked abandoned.
“Search that area. There has to be some people hiding around here.”
Poetschke’s Kompanie had pushed out of Wolven territory, but even still their commander was trying to evacuate villagers as their battle group drove east, closer toward Oxbane’s encampment.
Vahn and three others scaled the hill and soon found a small collection of huts pressed together in a valley.
“Let’s go,” he said over the noisy mooing of a nearby cow. The spearmen followed close behind.
They approached the hovel without making a sound. Vahn craned forward and edged inside. It was dark. Utensils lay on the table, and there was a bowl sitting on the counter, as if those things had been recently used.
“Hello? There are battles coming. We’re here to move you further west. Rock bombs could hit this home at anytime.”
The three of them stepped in, one of them opened a cupboard and the other lifted up a pallet. No one was here.
“Strange. The people here must have fled before we arrived.”
“Come on,” Vahn said, “forget about these furres. They’re probably just Lapine rabbits anyway.”
He was right. There was no time to spare because Poetschke was already moving toward the nearby spring and even further on to Oxbane’s encampment.
Vahn and the others followed Poetschke’s boot tracks into Balaton forest. After an hour of walking they found their leader in a clearing with many others buzzing around him.
“We found only empty huts, sir. No sign of anyone,” Vahn explained. A cloud of white vapor puffed from his snout as he breathed.
“That will have to do,” Poetschke replied. “Come on. Let’s keep moving east.”
The Kompanie continued its march. Wherever the enemy was, it wasn’t in this forest any longer. The ‘Khanate’s’ warriors must have retreated hastily, because the sun was already at its apogee, and still the wolves had seen nothing since the opening attack.
“We take this place. The edge of this forest. Then we send scouts to the plains. Who knows what they have ahead.”
“YIPE!”
A line of axes flew into the forest, one of the axes hit a wolf from the front and cut him down. Vahn jumped onto the snow and flattened himself with the rest of the Kompanie. Poetschke fired back in the axes direction and ran over to one of the fallen canine, who was screaming in pain.
The ax cut into the wolf’s spine and through the ribs, and now he was flopping uncontrollably on the ground. He was in shock and would never walk again. Poetschke knew what he had to do: He took the spear tip and jammed it through the back of the fallen wolf’s neck and through to the brain, and ended his suffering.
Vahn peeked up to see several ax-hurlers, maybe five, behind a brick lain barrier, with some dozen monsters around guarding the nest. He heard the whistle to pull back deeper behind the trees, where Poetschke huddled his ‘Kapitans.’ The blonde human unhooked his belt of ‘mashers’ and called Vahn over.
“Vahn, we’re going to charge the fort. You’re the one best suited for this. They have a good defensive position, but our force is superior here, and we have to keep going. You just find your way to the throwers, and use the mashers to get rid of the enemy.”
It was best not to think much about these things before they happened. Vahn strapped on the mashers and picked up a spear with the rest. When Poetschke’s whistle blew again, the wolves looked nervously at one another and dashed for the light, only to be met with another wall of flying axes and even blades. There was another scream and the wolves scurried back into the protective slope of their wooded position.
Upon seeing the wolves back away, Poetschke’s face turned beet red. Gripped by a towering rage, he reloaded his hand cannon and pointed it toward one of the shocked Kapitans.
“One step to the back, any of you, and I will personally shoot you myself.”
One of the fellows stared at Vahn in silence, pleading for him to do something about the mad human commanding them. Vahn ignored the fellow and looked on through the trees at the monsters, who made a loose shield around the throwers.