In the Eye of the Storm

31. Gorgeous Gorge

It wasn't quite the attack I had imagined. I had expected a brave rush towards the entrance of the gorge, waving our rifles in the air and firing the occasional well-aimed shot at the bandits.

Reality was somewhat less heroic. We hunkered down behind a few rocks some distance away from the entrance of the gorge. While bullets were flying over our heads, I watched with increasing puzzlement as several of our men put up three of the large cylindrical objects they had brought on tripods. At one end, the objects had a barrel, like a rifle. At the other, something that looked like handle stuck out of it.

'What's that?' I demanded, pointing to one of the objects that was sitting a few rocks away from us.

'One of my prototypes,' Mr Ambrose answered, curtly.

A shot rang out, and I hurriedly snatched my hand back from over the rock, staring at him in disbelief. 'We are being shot at by blood-thirsty bandits, and you want to test some new gadget?'

'Yes.' He gave a signal to one of the men around the cylindrical thingamy, and the fellow grabbed the handle, directing the barrel-shaped protrusion directly at the entrance of the gorge. One final time he looked up, searching for final approval from Mr Ambrose. Mr Ambrose nodded. 'Fire!'

The handle began to turn – and the world turned into fire.

A roar went up the like of which I had never heard before. It wasn't an explosion. No, it was a never-ending series of explosions, battering the ears with incessant noise. Agonizing noise. I couldn't help uttering a small cry of pain. Then, suddenly hands were covering my ears. Looking up, I gazed in Mr Ambrose hard eyes.

'It takes some getting used to!' he shouted over the racket. He didn't seem to be bothered by the ear-splitting roar in the least.

My fingers trembling just a little, I pointed at the thing that was spitting bullets faster than lighting.

'What kind of hellish machine is that?'

'The killing kind.'

Blimey, was he right about that! Three of the things had opened fire on the entrance of the gorge now, and shots from there had halved in a few moments! Not that I could hear them over the din of the killing machines. But the muzzle flashes grew fewer and fewer by the second. Only a few more moments, and they ceased completely.

Something flashed in the corner of my eye, and my gaze darted to the left, then to the right. Ha! From both sides of the cliff, our men were slowly approaching the gorge entrance. They had to have taken a roundabout route to stay out of the line of fire, and were now sneaking up on the enemy without the bandits being any the wiser. If there were bandits left at the gorge entrance at all, that is.

The men on either side of the gorge raised their hands in what had to be a signal. Abruptly, the noise of Mr Ambrose 'prototype' cut off, and safe from fire, the men darted into the gorge. A few lone screams rose up into the air, then silence fell.

Letting his hands fall from my ears, Mr Ambrose stood up. 'Forwards, men!'

Some mounted their camels again. Others, whose animals had been hit by one of the enemy's bullets, simply ran forward, ready to hurl themselves on the ground the moment the enemy started firing again. But no shots came. We arrived at the entrance of the gorge, all unhurt and hardly out of breath. We were greeted by cheers from the men who had taken down the first line of bandits. Littered on the ground lay the bodies of their vanquished foes, the red bloodstains contrasting sharply with the white burnouses.

'Dismount!' Mr Ambrose called. 'The gorge is too narrow for camels! We go on foot from here!'

He was right: the cleft in the rock was hardly wide enough for one man to walk through, let alone a camel. The bandits had chosen their hideout well. I didn't know much about strategy, but under normal circumstances, this place would probably be as easy to defend as it would be impossible to take.