The War (Play to Live: Book #6) (2 page)

"Pah…" the archer waved me away. He was not the type to discuss professional matters with some random rookie.

My inbox pinged like mad, finally receiving all the private messages that had piled up during my away-time in the Crypt.

The ops department was worried. The Lightsiders were getting more and more aggressive. The officers slowly lost control of the situation as they ran into things they were not competent at dealing with. This called for the wisdom of the First Priest with his monopoly on miracles and all those tricks up his sleeve.
Guess I better start proving my respectable status
and people’s trust.

I opened the armor-plated gates of my soul to let the Lord out. I should mention that I feared him just like everyone else.
Drooling and squealing like a puppy in a childlike ecstasy, I looked upon the menacing Feudal Ruler, still unable to believe that he and I were the same person.

I no longer rented, I now
owned
. At my side were
my
people,
my
land. Gone was the slave of loans; the lord of a treasury of gold had taken his place.

No more bosses would peer over my shoulder, no fierce machines of governmental oppression would stand in my way. I was my own master!

A loyal, battle-thirsty army was backing me up, allies lined up on all sides as we faced the enemy before us. The world was straight and clear as the sword, and the timeserving resourcefulness of the 21
st
century man was no longer needed. At least not at the moment…

I shot a fierce look at the aide-de-camp, making him wince.

"Summon everyone," I ordered. "Code Orange. The clan warriors are to be ready in T minus one. Alliance, our partners; prepare for battle!”

I then turned to the two spatial wizards that had been assigned to me. "Portal to Tianlong. Drop me right on the walls. Now!"

A portal arch appeared. The flow of air softly pushed me in the back, forcing me into the open portal.

I crossed over.

Clang, clink, thud
– the sounds of sharp throwing weapons finding their targets came from all around us as they sank into the new arrivals.

A colorful, multilayered cloud of poison magic wrapped around our ranks, causing coughing, wheezing, and bleeding noses. Hundreds of long-lasting DoTs hung over the dragon skeleton like lazy thunderclouds.

The warriors on the walls crowded around my arrival gate through which fresh air seeped in.

"Keep the portal open!" I ordered my wizard. The acid was getting into his eyes, making him squint and shed bloody tears.

My body felt like I had gotten sixth degree burns. Every second my muscles twitched severely, reacting to the multitude of spells that were incessant like mosquito bites.

The sky was cluttered with junk which rained down upon us. The enemy wizards used everything they had: blocks of ice sizzled under drops of lava, meteorites crushed the crystal spires, and arrows and bolts knocked each other down, fighting over what little space they had.

Our trolls made a sparse wall of shields to cover us. The clerics joined in right away.

I estimated the overall damage to be minus two to three hundred HP per second. It was bearable, so I peered out from an arrowslit.
Fuck me, where will we bury you all?!

The yellow sands of the Frontier were gone. They were obscured by the raging horde of sentient beings as far as the eye could see. All of AlterWorld races were present: the tiny golbins, halflings, giant ogres…

Pets, mounts, and other familiars practically doubled the number of invaders. Steel glistened on the golems’ pointy frames. The Sun God’s battered army radiated defiance. The celestial beings had taken a hard beating during the first stage of the assault.

We were so different. Their army consisted of angels and seraphims, while demons and bone dragons constituted ours…

Siege machinery of all kinds was being rolled out from every corner of the enemy camp: ballistas, catapults, trebuchets and other inventions of the medieval genius. AlterWorld had never seen such a high concentration of war machines before; three hundred per half a square mile. Like Zhukov had near Berlin in 1945…

I frowned. This antiquated artillery could deal an average damage of 5,000 points to any stationary object per shot. That was pretty high. Multiply that by three hundred, and you are looking at a million and a half HP lost in the blink of an eye.
Hell, they’ll make flour out of Tianlong’s skeleton in the next thirty minutes.

Focusing on my interface, I sent a brief order via the officer chat: "Code Red. Directive:
Trojan Horse
. Attn communications officer; spotter channel access code is
alpha-three-rock
. Grab the coordinates of the siege machine yard, calculate portal exit points, synchronize your actions with the
Trojans
!"

The enemy army was slowly rotating its ranks beneath our walls, looking like a giant merry-go-round. The Lights cleverly used their primary advantage; their immense numerical superiority.

Their clan columns and various detached forces would advance toward the dragon. Within minutes they’d bring down all of their mana supply and extensive arsenal of battle abilities upon us. Then they’d rotate systematically; one ensign would replace another, and a fresh batch of enemy lines would squeeze into the rather narrow firing sector.

As this had been their routine for the past two and a half days, it was clear that the enemy intended to take us by exhaustion. In theory, we would’ve had no time to sleep, and our ammo and alchemic supplies would have been almost depleted by now while most of our class skills would certainly need to be recharged.

Praised be Chronos’s Temple! Our enemies would run themselves into the ground and bust their balls before they’d see us get tired.

The Lightsiders’ fighting wheel had turned yet again, putting the 1.5 thousand strong "D.C. United" detachment before the castle walls.

Comments flooded the battle-chat:

"Our old friends there are having a sixth go!"

"They shoulda stayed home playing football, asswipes!"

"Prepare for a hailstorm of fire. Most of their wizards are Flame and Lava pros!"

"Ranger Crafty Luis is mine! I have a score to settle with him: ‘two-to-one’ and the Arch Enemy status. Gimme a clean shot at that asshole!"

"There he is, in the backpack of that ogre in green pants. The bastard got himself a comfy spot!"

"I see him! All right, buddy, chew on this mithril bolt blessed by Aulë himself!"

"I have been dispelled! All my buffs are gone! Moving to the rear!"

"Listen up, left wing here, support echelon covering teeth nine through fourteen. We have merged. I repeat, we have merged! Watch out, the enemy is charging sector by sector. We’ve been hit by at least a hundred wizards at once."

"Third archer detachment; salvo fire on the first quarter of the column! Rangers; fleximode, shoot down the casters! Wizards; pick up yer skirts and take cover! You’ll attack once the enemy’s spent, from the rear."

"Goddammit, catapult shot in the stomach! My spine’s busted! I’m paralyzed for three minutes! Heal me, quick!"

"‘South’ Arrowlauncher here; take the machine off the list. The mechanism’s all busted up. I’m joining the infantry."

"Get him in the eye! Punch him like a squirrel!"

"Sorry, guys, I’m going offline. School’s over, gotta pick up my kid. I did all I could, hang in there!"

"Guys, will trade one House of Pleasures token for five ‘Extra-Dinner’ coupons!"

"No spam in chat! Pooh, when’s your binging spree over already?!"

"Dudes, I’m done here. I can’t be knee-deep in lava, breathe acid fumes and tear arrows outta myself. I have pyrophobia and asthma."

"Replacement needed for 319, he’s fried. Alex, don’t panic, just make your way toward the rear. We’ll getcha feeling better again; plenty of rest, beer, girls! You’ll be in great shape in just a day."

"Watch out! Tianlong’s feeling sick again, he’s gonna throw up!"

"Ha! Come on, dragon, puke raw mana! The Americans standing right before the skull have just lifted up their shields. Buncha retards!"

"Need ammo, goddammit, I’m out! Just opened the last box of pila. Where are those
bandy-legged dwarves from the ammunition supply point?"

"Cleric groups four, six, and eight; your replacements will be arriving any minute now. Head to the rear in ten seconds for recovery."

"Fuck me, how many people do we have here? My capsule’s lagging. I’ll be watching a slideshow soon."

"Ha, you should go perma. Kickass graphics, zero lag!"

"Folks, we got a Seraphim rotting away here, with a Soul Stone! Someone pick it up, or I’ll destroy the bastard. He’s taking up half the wall!"

"Leave it for the clan leader! That’s a clanwide order, all stones 350 and up are his."

"Stealth groups Shadow, Ear-choppers, and Thunderstorm; assume positions. Shadow; distract the counter-subversive guard. Ear-choppers; take down the wounded and those left behind. Thunderstorm; you are to transport gravestones and the enemy’s master-loot corpses. Don’t get carried away slaughtering. Pounce, strike, withdraw, or I’ll tear your legs off!"

"That’s it, we’re fucked. What kinda Big Bertha they got firing back there?! I got crushed by a stone the size of a van! Who’s on our evacuation team now, whom should I ask to bring my grave back?"

I left the chat and raised my head, surveying the enemy fire. Surely enough, they were firing everything. Cobble-stones, cannonballs, giant spears, harpoons, and barrels with various filth – all this poured from the sky nonstop, creating the illusion of a crumbling ceiling. Boy, were they serious this time!

One of the projectiles knocked a loyal she-elf off the wall. Orcus, his armor already dented, instantly squeezed into her spot.

"Sir, it’s time!" he cried.

I nodded. Pulling up the interface, I launched the one-minute countdown to the start of the operation. I then did the same in the private communication channel for my Trojans to see. Those guys had mixed with the attackers, pretending to be on their side, and volunteered to defend the siege machine park.

Instantly requests to obtain a temporary alliance membership started pouring in; we didn’t any friendly fire problems.

One…Two…Three…Five…Well, where’s that last one?! Six, gotcha!
I let them all in and glanced over the freshly acquired reinforcements.

They were mostly Flint’s Light Bearers who had lost a few members, and also Flint’s supporters. Basicallly all the left-overs from the old alliance, the perma warriors from the the Sullen Angels and the Golden Eagle. They had split off from the OMON.

The old man had kept his word. His digitized granddaughter really was the meaning of his life, and her rescue had guaranteed his everlasting loyalty.

A thousand and a half hotheaded Southern boys covered the massive trebuchets. That was practically all of the Italian cluster’s merc guild. As it turned out, Don Lucchesi, whom I was already acquainted with, had complete control of the guild.

There was a certain clause in our secret agreement that covered the sharing of the storage space inside the Crypt of Chronos. This clause granted me analogous access rights to the Cosa Nostra’s battle units.

Then there was the heavily-armed cavalry from Freetown led by King Rain the Wise himself. His intent to take part in the public flogging of the First Priest aroused no suspicion; the article about our raid on his town had remained the top story of every news blog for a while. And for a good reason! The description of the loot we’d taken alone filled nearly ten pages of small font and a few hundred photos. Ample drooling guaranteed.

The king’s intimidating guardsmen never got to chill with the other defense units. The cavalry, being highly advanced for those times, was appointed to a sector on the left flank.

That was all right though; the armor-clad warriors would easily make their way through the ranks of the unsuspecting White Collars by riding in from the side, then beat the Drunken Sailors, and would finally reach the siege machine perimeter.

The king’s quartermasters had taken 4,000 Molotov Cocktails from our storehouses with unflinching determination. I hoped that every bottle would cost the enemy plenty of wood once we attacked their siege machines…

There were also three international brigades out there: Koreans, Vietnamese, and Japanese. The Asians liked the taste of blood. They were glad to have the opportunity to rip the flesh out of the necks of the well-fed Western world representatives. The reps of the more venturesome had barely finished counting their loot in the Chinese cluster when they proceeded to get in touch with me again. "Got more?" they asked.

"Do I ever! Listen up!" I replied then.

And now, this patchwork power would get to say its weighty utterance.

"Charge!" I ordered via all communication channels.

The next instant, a third of the enemies guarding the siege machinery yard put on our colors. The radar filled with green markers, so pleasant to the eye.