Yiggdrasil Highway Saga
Chapter 39: Armageddon
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The Final Battle
The Armada of the Kindred plummeted toward the invaders on silent wings while rapidly increasing their speed. The attacking Armada had the rising sun at it’s back. The invaders would be looking directly into the blinding light of dawn.The armada made no more noise than a falling rock. There were no engines. There was no shiny spinning metal propellers glinting in the rising sun to call attention to their approach. There was but living wings. These wings were not even moving, they were held steady in dive configuration. The attack had begun from a great height and the fliers were in free fall. They were developing impressive speed. Soon the formation would pull out of it’s dive and drive hard, horizontally toward the enemy. They would come of of the blinding sun with the speed and silence of a stooping falcon, by the thousand.
Far below the invader’s beach head came into view. The Demons were incredibly haphazard and slovenly. Such a huge number of troops and support equipment guaranteed a degree of untidiness but this level of sloppiness was beyond even that. It went beyond stupid. It hinted of panic. It was almost as if the invaders had been routed and were fleeing in disorderly terror from something, on another mesa, or beyond another portal.
The Demons had landed and unloaded from their rigid airships to form a gigantic camp. The camp was barely organized, sloppy and nasty. It reeked. It wasn’t the least bit fortified. Immense quantities of troops, animals and machines had assembled and were leaving the beachhead. They were more like mobs than any coherent organization. Today was the day. The Kindred Armada had arrived exactly on time. The huge caravans were departing across the flat plains with barely any semblance of order.
They were like unto an overgrown field of uncut grass...and the oncoming Kindred were lawnmowers.
Overhead Griffins and Dragons egressed from the larger, and longer ranged Elders and Mantas. They fell into formation around the larger flyers. The fleet was ‘in the zone’. Everyone was mentally ready and totally absorbed by the combat gestalt.
Elven and Dwarf riders were on and en rapport with their big cats. Two brothers Mennor and Cleander were Cat Riders. They were still aboard the Mantas. They would stay aboard until level flight transition has been accomplished and some speed had bled off. The heavier bears had been left back in the Ark. Each cat was wearing a minimal glider strap-on graphene and carbon fibre wings , one time use only.
The Manta’s name was Heidrun.
..“Mommies made contact” Heidrun informed the cat riders.
“Lovely” murmured Mennor
“What a flipping mess” replied Cleander.
“Yea young lads have no respect” chided Fjalar ...another CatRider.
Mennor and Cleander both nodded...it was true. They had no respect. This was kinda fun though...even if they were terrified...time to get on with it.
Fjalar and Galar were dwarves. The dwarves were each riding a Cheetah. The elves, Mennor and Cleander were each riding a tiger.
“You boy’s be careful and have a good time” bantered the sky Manta Heidrun over the battlenet.
”Mommie says it’s time to kick ass and take names. In fact forget the names, they are probably in a foreign language anyway. We all know how you pussies are with languages. When you get to the ground kill anything that breathes. Watch your ass. Mommie says she’ll be upset with you boys if you leave any Demons alive.“
Using data and coordinates from the overhead elders the falling formation split and diverged. Each segment, sized to fit, homed in on a demon column.
The silently and swiftly plummeting Kindred Armada approached tree-top altitude and pulled out of it’s dive. They all leveled out horizontally and began streaking toward the nearest enemy. All of the flyers were in complete synchronization with each other. There was nary a wrinkle in the formation.
Immediately upon achieving level flight the cats deployed. They unreeled on lines and were towed behind the mantas. They were temporarily gliders.
Far overhead, with perfect coordination, Mommie initiated hostilities. Swarms of arrows were released by the leading segments of the attacking flyers. For a moment the glare of the sun was no longer in the eyes of the Demons. They were briefly in the shade. Then the arrows struck and the Demons began to die by the score, and by tens and hundreds of scores.
It was perfectly timed. Almost before the last arrow from on high had pierced it’s target other arrows began to sleet in horizontally.
The flying Manta’s had cutting devices attached to their tails which acted as buzz saws. When a Manta overflew a column of troops at high speed with its tail mounted buzz saw spinning it got messy. Coming silently out of the sun the Mantas blindsided the Demons. The first indication that the demon troopies had that they were under attack was when they started to die. First arrow swarms and then the flying buzz saw. Body parts detached and guts fell to the ground. Blood spurted and sprayed. Blood drenched dust became mud. Demons died in droves. Very few even drew, much less fired, their weapons.
Mennor and Cleander intentionally targeted the first group of still standing Demons. Releasing the tow rope they dove into them from behind. Landing on Demons broke their fall. The flying buzz saw had messed up the troopies pretty badly and the boys messed the survivors up even worse when they crashed the wings right into the troopies and the ceramic blades affixed to the leading edges of the wings made more Sushi. These demons had been looking after the departing Manta s. The incoming cats had hit them from behind. Leaving a trail of blood and severed body parts the cats squished and splashed to a halt. Their riders, be it elven or dwarf, then released the wing harnesses which fell to the blood spattered ground.
The boys then began galloping along on the ground, following the Manta . The spinning buzz saws of death and destruction left pure havoc in their wake. There weren’t just a whole lot of whole Demons. Few of them had survived being overflown by the mower.
There were, however, always a few. Some, that somehow, had missed being sliced, diced or impaled. They were, however, always in shock and looking away. They were invariably blindsided .
So it went throughout the area. The mounted dwarves and elves, with air support, did their dead level best to kill everything that moved. They were largely successful. The Mantas mowed, the cat-cavalry picked off the survivors. The Demons were being devastated.