hits on the harpies, two AIR-120s and gunfire into the Wyvern. That square with what you remember.”
“Sure does ma’am.” In fact, Wong could have sworn he got two more harpies with gunfire than he was being allocated but in the wild furball that was going on in Hell, who could really say what was what?
“Bullshit.”
“I’m sorry?” The intelligence officer’s voice had gone cold. If she’d been the speaker’s wife, the victim would shortly be due for the ‘we’ve got to talk’ treatment followed by long nights sleeping on the couch.
“I call Bullshit. Nobody’s getting eight kills with those bits of crap. Somebody’s faking their claims.”
The AFIO was about to blister Witz’s ears when Wong cut in ahead of her. “You have a problem with the AIR- 120?”
“Sure have, damned things go all over the place. Not one flies true. Haven’t had any luck all day with them crapshoots. You claim you got eight, you’re bullshitting.”
“Camera gun doesn’t lie, Lieutenant.” The AFCIO’s voice had dropped through sub-zero. She called up White’s download, the shots clearly showing the rockets flying straight and true but passing ahead of the targets. “It’s pretty obvious, you’re firing from too great a range and leading the target excessively. You’re using a rocket, not a gun, the lead you need is minimal. You watch Lieutenant Commander Wong’s downloads, they’ll show you how its done properly. We can’t give you ammunition to waste, you’re off flight roster until you can get consistent hits on the simulator.”
Witz turned away, still cursing under his breath. The AFIO packed up her laptop and smiled. “O-club’s open Mike.”
“Join me for a drink, Captain?”
“Be a pleasure. My name’s Patricia.”
“Is Witz going to be all right, he doesn’t seem happy.”
“Oh, don’t worry about him, he’s just Witzless.”
Wyvern Flight, the Southern Front, Phlegethon River Bulge
If the wyverns and their riders could have seen the radar tracking plots, they’d have known they were heading at 250 knots towards the center of the human positions along the southern flank. They couldn’t so all they knew was they were heading at their normal speed to where the humans were fighting. Each side of the wyvern, on panniers made of Beast leather, were loads of sulfur, ready to be set on fire and dropped on the humans below. Brimstone, burning sulfur, was one of Hell’s great weapons, an attack that burned, crushed and gassed all in a single blow. Far below them, they could see the human sky-chariots tearing into the harpy cloud, leaving the sky studded with the orange-and-red balls of fire as the harpies died.
Up here, more than half a league into the sky, the formation of 80 wyverns had gone more or less unnoticed. That had to be why the human sky-chariots were ignoring them in favor of rending the harpies. Still, it given the slaughter that was taking place in the harpy ranks, the wyverns and their riders were content with what small mercies they were given. There were whispers that more than seven thousand harpies had died already, more than one legion’s worth out of the six legions that had started the day’s battle.
Faranigranthis saw the wing leader up ahead make the signal, it was time for the attack. He ran a quick glance over his equipment, the sacks of brimstone were ready, all it would need was to pull the bronze bar from the rings and the sacks would upend, pouring the burning sulfur on to the enemy below. Behind them were the bronze flechettes, hardened in Belial’s workshops and also ready to be dropped on the enemy. Then, he returned his attention to the formation, already the first rank were peeling off for their dive on the enemy below. His turn came, he jabbed his spurs into the wyvern and felt it drop out of the sky as its wings folded and it howled its battle- cry.
This was the bit that made a wyvern rider’s life worthwhile. The screaming dive on an enemy below, watching them disperse and run to escape the deluge that was to come. Faranigranthis saw the humans below, their fortresses built around their iron chariots besieged by harpies and with the ground forces and beasts closing in. Off to one side, he saw a strange rippling blue flash tearing at the human positions and realized that had to be the naga at work, pouring their lightning bolts into the enemy ranks. As his wyvern dropped, Faranigranthis could see them more clearly, could see the great coiled forms strapped to the back of the Great Beasts that carried them. He touched his wyvern with his mind and the creature changed the angle of its dive so he could dump its load on the humans engaged by the naga.
It was time, nearly time. Faranigranthis calculated angle and speed, He had selected a line of three fortresses for his attack, a group that was already under heavy fire from the naga, the blue lightning bolts rippling off their armor. He touched the igniter that set the left hand set of brimstone bags on fire, then hesitated slightly and pulled the drop bar. To his delight he saw his aim was true and the deluge of burning yellow stones swept across the human iron chariots. Beneath him, the harpies swarmed over the stricken vehicles and the infantry floundering across the open space between the Phlegethon and the human defenses gained fresh heart. They swarmed up the banks and over the iron chariots that lay within them
Then, Faranigranthis saw how the human defenses worked. As soon as the three fortresses he had hot were in danger, those on either side opened fire on them, the little red flashes that streamed from them raking the position held by their fellows. From beneath the seething mass of harpies and infantry, he saw the iron chariots moving backwards, out of the overrun fortress, back towards the safety of the line behind. Still they were being raked by their fellows, but Faranigranthis saw the red fireflies bouncing off the iron chariots and he realized what was happening. The human fireflies couldn’t penetrate iron so they bounced off and just killed those outside its protection. None of whom were human of course.
Well, Faranigranthis knew what to do about that. He still had his right side pouches of brimstone and his flechettes. He dragged his wyvern’s nose around, touched its mind and gave it the instructions necessary. His next run would be on the second line of fortresses, the ones that were covering the escape of his first target. Once more his aim was true and the yellow cloud of flaming sulfur engulfed the iron chariots in their fortress. Their fireflies faded away and stopped as the chariots tried to back out from the cloud. Above them, Faranigranthis turned his wyvern again and headed for the chariots that had been the victim of his first pass. They were still there, fighting the infantry and Beasts that surrounded them and the harpies that flew over them. He aimed carefully and saw his flechettes hail down upon them. As he turned away, his load gone, he could see a rolling cloud of black smoke, laced with orange. An iron chariot was burning and he, Faranigranthis, had killed it.
It was time to go home. The Wyverns were assembling back at their original height above the battlefield and Faranigranthis could sense the exultation of the riders. They’d got in and they had struck a savage blow at the humans. Then, he did a count, there were fifty three Wyverns flying in the formation of the eighty that had dived on the humans just a few minutes before.
Naga Group, the Southern Front, Phlegethon River Bulge
Baroness Yuku fought the exhaustion that was growing throughout her body. The naga were built for maintaining a constant series of discharges but the rate at which she and her fellow naga had been firing them at the humans was greater than they had ever attempted before. Yet it had to be done, the humans had to be kept under fire if the assault was to stand a chance. Yuku mentally thanked her Lord that he had had the wisdom to ‘modify’ the instructions to send his best naga to aid Belial in his mad schemes. He’d interpreted ‘best’ to mean his youngest and least experienced coven, keeping his two most experienced groups with him for this battle. By the look of it, several other lords had done the same and that was a good thing, otherwise the assembled covens would be collapsed into semi-consciousness by now.
Those that still lived that was. There had been 54 covens assembled for this assault, just over 700 naga, and Chiknathragothem had grouped them in the center of his formation top punch a hole for the rest of his army to follow. That had seemed like a good idea until the holocaust of human mage-fire had descended upon them. The casualties had been dreadful but the soft, unarmored nagas had been hard hit. Less than 300 had survived the mage bolts and the churning ground. They’d forded the river and kept the human chariots under a constant series of bolts but nobody could do much more until the wyverns had doused their positions with burning brimstone. That had forced the humans back and out of their defensive positions.
The combination of bolts and brimstone from above, the relentless fire of the nagas and the advancing infantry and fliers had done it, they’d started to destroy the human defense. From her position on the river bank, Yuku could see the black, rolling smoke rising from more than a dozen iron chariots that had been overwhelmed and destroyed. Around them lay the bodies of their crews, many half eaten as they had been cut down. That might once have been a satisfying sight but Yuku could see more. The ground was black with the bodies of Chiknathragothem’s army
