Chapter 352 - 345 — Three Hundred Thousand

Nesk lowered the launcher before the smoke cleared.

"All I can see is its front armor," Nesk muttered. "We need a better angle."

The instructor glanced along the ruined wall. Beyond the next doorway, a narrow passage ran between the tollhouse yard and a roofless outbuilding.

"Come around here."

Nesk followed with the launcher held against his chest while his helper carried the ammunition bag behind them, ducking as another shell burst somewhere along the defensive belt.

At the end of the passage, the instructor stopped him.

Through a gap in the outbuilding’s wall, they could see the Warhound’s damaged side. Its broken track lay twisted beneath the hull. Smoke still drifted around the turret, but the wind was beginning to expose the machine.

Nesk crouched behind the stones.

The cannon flashed toward their old position.

BOOM!

He felt the discharge in his ribs.

His helper passed him an anti-armor round.

CLACK.

Nesk raised the launcher as the pale cloud of smoke thinned.

For several breaths, he waited with his cheek against the stock. The machine remained half concealed. Then a gap opened, revealing the side armor.

THUMP!

The round struck.

A sharp explosion punched flame and fragments away from the hull. Smoke poured from the damaged plating, and the engine’s steady roar became an uneven grinding.

The turret began turning.

"Again," the instructor said.

His helper already had the next round ready.

Nesk loaded while the cannon swept across the ruined yard. He could hear warriors shouting beyond the wall, but kept his eyes on the damaged machine.

The launcher rose.

THUMP!

The second explosion tore through the Warhound’s side.

Fire burst upward beneath the turret. The cannon stopped moving, shuddered once and remained pointing past the outbuilding.

Nesk stayed behind cover.

A hatch opened.

Flame surged through it before anything emerged.

Then the engine fell silent.

His helper leaned forward.

"Is it—"

"Wait."

Something inside the hull detonated with a heavy WHUMP. The open hatch slammed against the turret, and burning debris scattered into the lane.

Nesk let out the breath he had been holding.

"Now it is."

The instructor looked toward the yard.

"Tell the captain. Keep watching it."

The helper ran back along the passage while Nesk remained behind the broken wall, the launcher resting across his knees.

Two burning wrecks stood near the main crossing. This third machine had nearly broken the defense from the side.

He had no desire to see another.

Outside the tollhouse gate, the captain heard the runner’s report and raised his sword.

"Forward! Take back the trench!"

His warriors moved from behind the low wall.

The demons in the yard had been waiting for the Warhound to break the defenders apart. Several looked toward its burning hull instead of broken defense line.

The captain reached them first.

His sword struck a short blade aside and continued into the creature holding it. Beside him, a hammer blow crushed a demon against the storehouse wall.

Those farther back tried to retreat through the broken entrance.

The warriors pressed after them, keeping their line together.

At the tollhouse, Senn caught Halven’s arm.

"They’re reclaiming the connecting trench. Keep our fire beyond the storehouse."

Halven passed the order along the firing step.

The machine guns continued covering the slope. Riflemen watched the open ground beyond the advancing warriors, shooting at demons attempting to reach them from the quarry side.

Nesk returned to the outer wall.

His helper pointed past the storehouse entrance.

"More coming up behind them."

Nesk could see the reinforcements gathering where the abandoned trench met a stretch of open ground. The warriors were still inside the yard, well short of them.

"Fragmentation."

The round landed among the approaching demons.

BOOM!

The leading group disappeared behind a burst of earth and blood. Those following scattered toward the trench, slowing the rush long enough for the captain to reach its nearer end.

A blue flag rose above the ruined storehouse wall.

"They’ve reached it!" someone shouted.

Halven saw helmets moving through the captured passage. An alliance shield appeared at the bend where the first demons had threatened his position.

The captain’s warriors drove the remaining attackers away from the junction, then stopped beneath the protection of the surviving bank.

They had recovered the route between the neighboring defenses.

Senn sent a work party after them.

"Brace what’s left. Keep the passage open."

The earth mage who had repaired the supply trench remained seated beneath the tollhouse steps, too exhausted to stand. Another caster went forward with the soldiers, leaning heavily on a staff.

The attack in front of Halven continued.

Demons emerged from the quarry buildings and crossed ground already littered with bodies. Some carried proper weapons. Most still held short knives, clubs or chipped pieces of iron.

Their officers shouted from behind the broken walls.

BRRRRRRRRT!

Borr kept the belt moving while the gunner swept another group off the slope.

"Next box!"

A carrier shoved it into the shelter.

The dwarf pulled it closer without taking his eyes from the ammunition feeding into the gun. His beard was stiff with dust, and the fingers of his gloves had worn dark from constant handling.

Farther along the line, other machine gun answered.

Halven’s section had been one of several reinforced by the new weapon teams. Through the noise, he could hear their uneven bursts carrying from the positions beyond the tollhouse ridge.

Now and then.

Then it resumed.

The instructors moved between the shelters and riflemen. They corrected men who had begun rushing their shots, sent fresh carriers toward the reserve and made exhausted soldiers step down long enough to catch their breath.

The demons kept coming.

For another twenty minutes, Halven’s view narrowed to the ground beneath the quarry wall, the rifle in his hands and the loaded clips passed up from below.

A shell struck the parapet three positions to his right.

The blast threw him against the rear bank.

When the dust thinned, one of his riflemen was lying beneath a fallen beam.

Halven and another soldier pulled the timber clear. The instructor knelt beside the man, pressed two fingers beneath his jaw and looked up.

There was nothing to say.

Halven took the dead man’s rifle and passed it to the soldier beside him.

"Keep it out of the mud."

Then he returned to the firing step.

Below the wall, the replenishment soldiers carried the body into the rear passage and came back with ammunition.

The next rush reached the outer ditch.

A demon carrying an iron bar climbed over the bank, slipped among the bodies and tried to rise again. Halven shot it before it stood up.

Another creature stopped behind it.

For a moment, it seemed uncertain whether to advance or retreat.

The machine gun fired.

It disappeared beneath the impacts.

Beyond the ditch, the attackers began slowing.

At first, Halven thought it was another pause between groups. He watched the quarry entrance, expecting fresh ranks to emerge.

Fewer came.

An armored officer struck a retreating demon with the haft of its weapon and pointed toward the tollhouse. Several creatures obeyed while others silently slipped past it into the ruined buildings.

A low horn sounded from behind the quarry.

The officer turned.

A second horn answered farther along the ridge.

This time, the demons were withdrawing.

"Keep watching the ground!" Halven shouted. "Some are still below us!"

The firing diminished unevenly.

Borr’s gunner released the trigger, followed a moving shape through the sight and fired one final burst. The second machine gun continued for several seconds longer before its instructor ordered it to stop.

Rifles cracked here and there.

At the reclaimed trench, the captain pulled his men behind cover instead of pursuing the retreating demons.

The quarry swallowed the survivors.

Farther east, artillery continued to thunder.

Halven stayed on the firing step until Senn touched his shoulder.

"They’re pulling back from this stretch."

"For how long?"

"Last time i checked, i wasnt a prophet."

Halven looked down at his rifle.

His hands were shaking.

He had not noticed while there had been something to shoot.

"Half the men watch," he said. "The others drink and reload."

Senn nodded.

"Then change them over."

The sudden reduction in gunfire made the other sounds impossible to ignore.

Men called for healers. Someone was being sick behind the ammunition shelter. A soldier called for more timber while wounded warriors were helped through the side gate.

Borr sat back against his shelter’s wall.

Empty ammunition boxes filled the recess behind him and stood in a rough pile outside the entrance. Spent cases had collected beneath the gunner’s boots.

The human looked across the field.

"Did we stop them?"

"On this bit of ground," Borr said.

He tugged off one glove, examined his reddened fingers and reached for his water flask.

"We’ve emptied enough boxes to furnish a tavern."

"Would you settle for water?"

"I’ve survived the demons. Don’t threaten me now."

The gunner laughed until a cough bent him forward.

Borr passed him the flask.

Nesk found them while returning unused rounds to a be stored back in shelter.

The dwarf looked at the launcher slung across his body.

"Still got it?"

"Dug it out."

"Try keeping it above ground."

"I’ll ask the next tank to be considerate."

He moved on before Borr could answer.

At the rear passage, a healer caught Nesk by the sleeve and made him sit while she examined the shoulder he had struck during his escape.

His helper lowered the ammunition bag beside him.

"You said it didn’t hurt."

"It didn’t when the cannon was pointing at us."

The healer pressed the bruised muscle.

Nesk hissed through his teeth.

"It has become considerably more interesting since."

Halven checked his people while the instructors inspected their weapons.

Four needed evacuation. Others had cuts, burns or bruises they were only beginning to notice. The dead rifleman lay beneath a blanket beside the tollhouse’s rear wall.

Halven recognized the boot protruding beneath it. The man had wrapped cord around the sole that morning because the stitching was coming loose.

He crouched and drew the blanket over it.

A replenishment soldier stood nearby, gripping an empty body bag.

"Do we put him on the next wagon?"

Halven nodded.

"Give his name to the clerk first. Make sure it’s written correctly."

The replenishment soldier immediately went to find someone.

By the time Halven returned to the command recess, the captain from the side yard was there. His shield hung crookedly from a damaged strap, and blood had dried along his jaw.

"The neighboring troops are back in their trench," he told Senn. "They’re rebuilding the firing steps."

"How many men can you keep forward?"

"Enough to cover the work party. The rest need relief."

Senn sent the request through the communication set.

The captain turned toward Halven.

"Your people gave us room to move."

"You held our side."

The captain glanced toward the machine-gun shelters.

"Usually we meet them after the bombardment has already thinned our ranks. Today, your guns thinned theirs before they reached us."

His gaze moved to the wounded passing through the gate.

"Still cost us."

Halven nodded.

The captain flexed his sword hand. Two fingers were swelling around the knuckles.

Inside the command recess, reports continued arriving.

The other equipped sections had faced their own attacks. Some had held behind intact wards. Others had lost shelters, shifted their guns and continued firing from hastily cleared positions.

The weapons had made a difference wherever ammunition and crews remained together.

Keeping them together had required an almost continuous movement of carriers and wagons.

A supply officer arrived with a ledger under one arm.

Senn took the sheet she offered.

He read it once, then again.

Halven watched his expression.

"What?"

"Nearly three hundred thousand rounds."

For a moment, Halven thought he had misheard.

"Across this line?"

"This line alone," Senn said.

Senn lowered the paper.

"The returns are still being checked."

Halven looked past him toward the ammunition wagons.

One stood empty beside the reserve shelter. Men were loading spent ammo boxes into it while another wagon waited behind, its driver shouting for room to turn.

"Three hundred thousand."

"Rifle and machine-gun ammunition," the supply officer said. "Launcher rounds and artillery shells are counted separately."

Borr had come to the entrance carrying his crew’s expenditure slip.

He stopped.

"That sounds expensive."

"It is," she replied.

The dwarf looked toward the covered bodies by the rear wall.

"Still bring more."

The supply officer took his return and added it to the ledger.

"We’re already doing that. What I need is a clear road and men who can drive wagons."

Senn assigned two soldiers to keep traffic moving through the yard.

The senior instructor joined them with notes from the surviving weapon crews.

"The men need more practice changing positions," he said. "Some still wait for an order after the enemy has found their shelter. The carriers need to know every reserve recess, including the ones outside their own section."

"And the weapons?" Senn asked.

"Doing what they were built to do. We’ll inspect them properly when the crews are relieved."

He looked at the supply ledger.

"Those figures need to go with the results."

"They will," Senn said.

Halven rubbed a streak of dried dirt from his cheek.

"We spent all that in one assault."

"Across a defended sector," the instructor reminded him.

"I know. I’m thinking about tomorrow."

No one answered immediately.

Outside, fresh ammunition was being carried into the shelters. The men lifting it had slowed since morning. Several now worked in pairs.

Senn’s communication set crackled.

He listened, asked for the message to be repeated and reached for a clean report sheet.

"Headquarters wants the number of weapons still serviceable, our remaining ammunition and the instructors’ assessment."

"They have heard we held?" Halven asked.

"From us and the other sections."

Senn paused to listen again.

Then he set the receiver down.

"They’re asking how many more companies can be equipped."

Halven looked toward the firing steps. Half his men were watching the quarry while the others drank, ate or sat with their heads resting against the trench wall.

Beyond them, the three Warhounds continued to burn.

"Another trial?" he asked.

Senn shook his head.

"They want enough weapons to overpower for the next attack."

"Then tell them to order the ammunition at the same time."

Senn picked up his pencil.

He wrote the expenditure beneath the report of the held positions, then added the request for replenishment before beginning the weapon figures.

Outside the command recess, another wagon rolled into the yard.