creating a visceral wall in front of the enemy’s eyes.
The Reverend and his men shot wildly into that cloud then proceeded forward, slow and low. The aliens answered with blind fire of their own.
On the eastern flank, Jon heard the frantic gunfire, his cue to launch the assault. His force left the rock and jogged across the frozen glacier at the rim of the island, moving north and staying low. He hoped to hit his foe on their flank.
Just as he dared dream the plan might work, enemy soldiers popped up from hiding spots along the stone walls. The Vikings had anticipated the attack and now unleashed a volley of merciless fire from cover.
The two men standing to either side of General Brewer fell. The rest of his team returned fire but held little hope of dislodging the defenders from the rocky battlements.
“Fall back! Fall back!” the General commanded as he threw a grenade to cover their retreat.
More of the Empire’s fighters died as they ran, even more suffered injuries. Jon grabbed and carried a young woman trooper when an alien round shattered her knee cap.
Two more Viking artillery blasts hit the retreating assault force, one a clean miss but the second sucked in four men. The Viking artillery was brutally efficient, allowing no middle ground. Either you were caught in the blast radius and pulled in to your death or not.
The enemy batteries stopped firing. Viking troops jumped from cover to pursue Jon’s force along the eastern flank, going from defense to offense.
Brewer and company reached the protective walls on their side of the battle where they were joined by reserve troops commanded by Captain Fink. This time the Vikings suffered the bloody nose and were forced to withdraw after losing eight of their number killed and several more wounded.
At that point, Reverend Johnny called off his diversionary assault. The lines settled and the combatants exchanged sporadic gunfire across the no-man’s land.
General Brewer gathered his two officers again.
“We’re in a stalemate here,” he told them between heavy exhales as he caught his breath. “We’re in the same boat, too. No re-supply out here. No more bullets and no reinforcements. We’ve got wounded now, and so do they. If one side bolts to head for the objective, they’ll be ripped apart by the other firing from cover.”
Casey Fink pointed out, “As long as both sides are hiding in these rocks, seems like the arty can’t do much damage. But we make a run for it and we’ll be creamed. Probably lose half our guys before we make it half a mile.”
Johnny added, “And I assure you, Captain Fink, that our mortar teams would do the same to those vile invaders if they attempt to make a dash.”
“We can’t stay here forever,” Brewer said. “We need something to change the equation. A weapon…a tactic. Something that either forces them from cover or covers us while we get out of here and continue on to the coordinates for the objective.”
Reverend Johnny changed the conversation: “Good God, what in Lucifer’s name is that?”
Aggravated, tense chatter rose like a chorus from the soldiers guarding the western flank.
A whirlwind of gray and white bore down on the island. A wall of spinning air pushing across the snow now within half a mile of the battle. It moved with a whoosh, not quite the roar of a twister.
Brewer raised his binoculars.
The whirlwind slowed…slower; and became less a cyclone and more a cloud.
Jon doubted his eyes as he watched what happened next. The cloud sort of pulled back-collapsing in-as if it were a fog machine set to reverse.
As the mist receded, the particles of the cloud meld together and forms took shape, not exactly walking through its vapors, but being born from them.
A line of figures…an army…materialized.
Humanoid and wearing hooded gray cloaks they marched forward across the glacier slowly but deliberately as the cloud continued to evaporate.
Jon watched through his field glasses. Most of their bodies were covered by those heavy cloaks but he could see their faces, or what passed for faces: skeletal with black eye sockets and elongated jaws.
“Wow,” he mumbled but even that word did not fit what happened next.
The cloud sucked rearward and evaporated, revealing one more monstrosity.
A giant. An eight-story tall giant with a skinny body, a slack jawed humanoid face, and eyes devoid of both sanity and intelligence. It dragged two dangling, extremely long arms the knuckles of which scraped the snow as the thing lumbered forward behind the mass of robed foot soldiers.
“Lord have mercy on our souls,” Johnny prayed.
But mercy was in short supply on the frozen flats of the Arctic Circle.
“I need guns over here!”
Fink did not respond; the approaching line of horrific creatures mesmerized the man. They looked more like demons than aliens.
Jon grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Get me four squads over here, now! Double time, Captain!”
Fink blinked and stammered, “What about…what about the Vikings?”
“Keep firing on them, too!”
Fink raced off.
Reverend Johnny gasped, “What are these creatures? Some kind of wraiths from the depths of the underworld, I fear.”
“Whatever they are,” Brewer answered, “they’re coming for us.”
“Dear heavens, yes, I see we are now fighting a two-front war!”
Screams of shock, barked orders, and scattered exchanges of fire with the Vikings reverberated through the human side of the rock island, reaffirming Johnny’s fear.
The army of Hell spawn split into three groups. One body remained out of range. One phalanx each headed toward both groups on the rock formation. The giant sort of stood between the two, looking dumb.
“They’re going after the Vikings, too,” Brewer said loud enough for Johnny to hear. “I guess they’re not part of the happy family.”
“I take some solace in that, General. I also am comforted in that unless my eyes are failing, these wraiths do not bear any weapons.”
Through his binoculars, Brewer confirmed the Reverend’s observation but noted, “That only makes me more nervous. What exactly are they bringing to the party?”
Fink returned with the extra squads. They assembled on the western flank. Most of the men did not fire; they stood or knelt and watched the approaching horde with gaping jaws.
“God damn it! Fire!” Brewer shouted.
The first round of shots missed wide. However, the pop and bang of gunfire attracted the attention of the giant.
Enemy troops parted to make way for the tall beast. At first, Jon thought it might march right over to his men and step on them. But no, it stayed a good three hundred yards away.
A bullet from a Viking sharpshooter whizzed by Jon’s head. He dove to the ground, crawled to cover, then shouted for Fink’s attention.
“Get over to the northern perimeter. Do not forget about the Vikings. Hold that line.”
Fink nodded absently.
Jon repeated with more emphasis, “Captain. hold the line.”
“Yes…Yes Sir!”
Fink scrambled off.
Someone on the western wall yelled, “What the Hell?”
The giant raised its long arms over its head with clenched fists where they hovered for a moment. Without a roar. Without a scream. Without any emotion, the giant swung its long arms down and pounded its fists onto the snow
An earthquake poured forth. A focused channel of underground energy rumbled and rolled across the glacier like a subterranean cruise missile pushing a comet’s trail of snow above and behind.
