Yiggdrasil Highway Saga

everittdmickey (73)in #fiction • 7 years ago (edited)

Chapter 40: Fight till you drop from exhaustion
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take a little nap, then return to the fray

Until now the Kindred had no idea about war. They were learning fast. Individually they were superb hunters and good killers. War, however, was foreign to their nature. They had no living memory of war. Recognizing this in themselves and having pondered the report from DragonFour their agreed upon strategy was 'hell for leather, all or nothing, and go for broke" they would attack like rabid wolverines on stimulates. The goal had been to strike unexpectedly, with total surprise and in overwhelming force. They had to destroy the invasion force as quickly as possible.

The Demons went down like grain before a scythe..

Four cats galloped along the wake of several sky Manta’s, the flying buzz saws had done a particularly good job along this patch. There were only a relatively few Demons warriors still standing. As usual they were looking back toward the retreating Manta, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Fjalar the dwarf was smoking a cigar. He claimed it calmed his nerves. He swung his cat a bit to the left.

“Twang, twang , twang and twang” Fjalar released three bolts in rapid succession ...and a fourth bolt. Oddly enough the fourth bolt went somewhere totally different. Automatic crossbows were great, much better than the old single shots. Three Demons bit the dust. Meantime Mennor was rapidly overtaking a trio of Demons. Mennor pulled his twin assegais and snapped them together on the run. He now held a double bladed spear.

Just in time too, the cat ducked its head and ran right between the two Demon warriors. Mennor held the spear sideways across his chest. As the ceramic blades impacted the two Demon’s necks the spear shaft bounced back against him and two Demon heads sailed through the air. Blood fountained from the neck-stumps and the bodies fell to the ground like puppets with their strings cut.. The third Demon pulled his pistol and had the Kindred pair dead to rights when .

“thunk,thunk-thunk” and “braaaa-a-a-p” three arrows arrived from three directions and skewered the unfortunate troopie. The first arrow knocked the Demon forward causing him to shoot into the ground. The second and third arrows were just insurance .

“Thanks buddie” said Mennor as he waved acknowledgement of the ‘save”. “That was a mite close”

“Yer welcome laddie, “ replied Fjalar, still trying to light his ceegar “ all part of the service.”

The cat riders continued to follow the “buzz saws from hell”. They cleaned up the Manta’s leftovers. The Manta ’s mowed the Demons like grass. The galloping cats and their riders trimmed up the hard to get parts.

Arrows. Everywhere there were arrows. All of the Kindred were fabulous archers. The Gestalt saw to that. Due to subtle ‘help’ and control by the Gestalt the Kindred literally could not miss. There were elders with onboard elves and dwarves floating high above the battlefield. “Operational Control’ it might have been called. Elves enabled, manipulated and controlled the Gestalt easier and better than any of the other Kindred, dwarves were weapons masters.

Oftimes during the fracas Mennor and Cleander would swear that they could heard someone singing.

I shot an Arrow into the air

It fell to earth I know just where,

.
For though swiftly it flew.
The Gestalt sight

Could follow it exactly in its flight
.
.

I’m melded with the Gestalt
throughout the air

.
The arrow fell to earth,
the Gestalt knew exactly where
.
.
For we all have sight so keen and strong

That we all can follow the Gestalts song?

.
Long, long afterward in an enemy throat

I found the Arrow still unbroke;

And the Song from beginning to end

Oftimes it was they who were doing the singing. It was a catchy tune. It was also true, and thus arrows were reusable. Which was why they were chosen over firearms. It was nice to have ammo free for the picking. The songs, the trajectories were always found in the heart of the Gestalt. A friend indeed keeping them supplied with ammunition as well as insuring perfect shots.

They were also getting tired. The Riders were the hunters for the Kindred. They brought home the bacon. The cats were used to exertion up to a point. They had far exceeded that point. The battle had begun at dawn and it was now approaching dusk. An incredibly vast number of the invaders had been killed. Their traveling columns had been annihilated. The kindred were now mostly circling the huge camp while mowing down the edges.

And they were tired.