Tale of The Broken Sword

Chapter Twenty Nine : Siege on the Cordia Line - Death of a Friend

19th August, AD 1656

The Eastern Cordia Line, Aurelian borders

Hovering above the ground by a few metres, Everent kept on pulling the trigger of the heavy machine gun. Ripping almost every grenadier that he can find, the horrifying carnage came to a stop only when the machine gun had overheated. Then, the airship pulled itself from the ground, flying to a certain height before moving forward.

“We’re reaching the outer defences of the line in two minutes.” The pilot flipped the switch and pulled the handles on the control panel. “Better keep your weapon at the ready.”

Nodding away, Everent kept his eyes aligned to the reticule of the machine gun, thinking the ways of killing a vast number of grenadiers with this technological wonder. His senses only came to reality when the corporal had tapped the sergeant on his soldier.

“Hey, the line is just over there,” Guthren pointed to the large number of trenches scattered around the Main Line. “These trenches are like the labyrinth of death. Close range fighting is always the worst of the battles.”

“There,” The pilot shouted in his microphone. “Everent, it’s your turn now. Blast that weapon away.”

The staccato crack-crack sounds that the machine gun had made filled the inner compartment of the airship. It was loud enough for the corporal and the private to close their ears. Everent did not seem to care for it; he was busy killing the enemies he’d sworn to kill.

With the machine gun, the sergeant made a quick work of the anti-tank guns. Targeting for the shell piles up beside the guns, orange flames swept over the trenches. Pitch-black clouds shot upwards and new explosions circled the airship from all directions. Then, the airship circled around the Line once more to finish off the remnants of the forces that survived the initial rounds. As the pilot began to pull the airship away from the battlefield, a stray shot fired from somewhere in the trench struck the pilot.

“The pilot’s down!” Heimman screamed, getting into the cockpit and held on to the airship’s controls. The soldier did his best at stabilizing the airship but, nevertheless, the airship kept on spinning on its side until it was a few feet away from the ground.

“Hang on!” Heimman bellowed. Everent and Guthren managed to grip onto the railings at the side of the compartment, hoping that the crash wouldn’t kill them. The airship smacked right in the face of the muddy landscapes not far from the trenches. The impact of it was certain to kill a single person. But would it be enough for the three men?

Everent had been sure that he was dead. No one could survive a crash from that height and walk away from it. But the muddy land where the airship had landed somehow absorbed the full brunt of the impact. Everent felt like hell, but he hadn’t ended up dead on the floor, his body lying on the floor along with those of the others.

From a distinct smell of blood, he doubted if Heimman or Guthren would make it out alive.

Everent unhooked his belt on the railings and staggered into the rubble inside of the airship. He seemed to be the first to free himself, but he could tell by the groans all round him that he wasn’t the only survivor.

A weak light filtered in through a window in the airship’s wall, although Everent couldn’t see anything through the smeared mud that partially covered it. He reached up towards the emergency door and felt that the handle was intact. Gritting his teeth against the pain he felt in every joint and muscle, he pulled it and kicked the door.

Before long, Guthren got to his feet and lent Everent a hand. Between the two of them, they made fast work of it, and soon the locks on the emergency door clicked open. The stubborn door didn’t want to open, but Everent and Guthren got their hands onto it and kicked the door further. The metal around the opening had bent, crimping the door on tight.

“Things just gets better and better, isn’t it?” Guthren cursed.

With a high-pitched groan of twisted metal, the door finally gave way. It moved slowly at first, and then pitched over the side. It fell off its broken hinges, and tumbled away. Everent heard a soft splash as it smacked into the muddy ground.

Everent pulled himself out of the wreckage first and slid down the metal to the mud. It had been one more bit of luck that they’d landed on such soft ground. Slamming onto a piece of concrete like the ones in the Line might have killed them all.

Guthren was still in the wreckage, clearing the rubble leading to the cockpit before squeezing himself into the small hole. Minutes later, he crawled his way out of the cockpit with a discouraging sadness.

“Heimman’s dead.” He shook his head. “When the aircraft had crashed, a sharp piece of the glass had separated from the window and gone straight through his chest, pinning him there. He... died of blood loss.”

Everent was devastated by his good friend’s death. Slamming his fist onto the metal frame of the airship, he cursed repeatedly and vowed to avenge the death of his friend. Guthren only managed to say a few words of prayer to the dead soldier before urging the sergeant to move along.

Outside, in the gray light of the overcast day, both them worked at cleaning their rifles off the best they could. Guthren rinsed the barrel of his long, semi-auto rifle in a deep puddle of murky water and Everent slipped the brush inside of his rifle’s muzzle. There was a noticeable silence lingering around them. With the both of them still remorseful of Heimman’s death, they remained next to the airship for at least twenty minutes.

Finally, Everent and Guthren unlimbered their rifles and kept them at the ready. The way they carried them, with the straps of their shoulders and wound around their forearms, Everent himself knew that they were ready to take on the battlefield.