Tale of The Broken Sword

Chapter Thirty : Siege on the Cordia Line - Labyrinth of Death

19th August, AD 1656

The Eastern Cordia Line, Aurelian borders

Viewing the battered edges of the line crawling with tendrils of gray smoke, Guthren motioned for the sergeant to follow him from behind. Everent unbuckled his holster and kept his pistol at the ready whilst rattling his rifle, shifting his view around him.

“The trenches of the Line are northbound by a hundred metres.” The corporal looked towards the undiluted rays of the sun. “We should meet up with the rest of the forces there, if they had managed to break through the first defensive lines.”

The trenches were a horrid sight for the sergeant, the blood-curling smell of the mud mixing in with the dead bodies of those killed by the Aurelian airships, would’ve made a fine chemical weapon if it were to mixed in with the right proportions. The artillery guns stood there, still, abandoned for months, if not years. Everent couldn’t tell how far the destruction extended along the Line, but his eyes hadn’t seen an undamaged structure since they’d come crashing down.

It seems as if it had been raining her for some time already. Mud caked everything and in some places ran in rivers down the muddy ground and the broken trenches. The fog shrouding the trench adds to the intense chill that the sergeant was having.

Guthren had taken the point as they moved out. He dashed from corner to corner, entering the trenches mouth as Everent followed from behind. They were careful to avoid wide fields of fire or places for an easy ambush.

“Quickly,” Guthren whispered softly to the sergeant. “Over here.”

Everent diligently followed the corporal from behind and was ready to take the point when the corporal yanked him from behind. As the sergeant glared at Guthren, the corporal pointed to something moving in a distance.

Everent squinted and spotted a group of grenadiers running down along the intersection of the trench. Those men hadn’t seen them, but if Everent had gone charging out into the open, they would have for sure. Everent nodded thanks to Guthren, and then proceeded to wait until the grenadiers had disappeared around a distant corner of the narrow trench and then moved out.

Guthren now followed the sergeant from behind, advising him of several alternatives of crossing several intersections. They made their way towards to the very heart of the battlefield; a standalone bunker marked with a red cross with a reconnaissance plane just yesterday and hopefully, gets to meet up with the rest of the forces.

“Are you alright?” Guthren said to Everent, who was panting quite heavily. “You look dead tired.”

“I’m fine,” Everent said with a little laugh. “Probably it’s the weather.”

Guthren wasn’t agreeing with it but as he was about to respond to the sergeant, Everent held up a hand. “Quiet.”

Sounds of movement came from above, on the higher grounds just next to the low-lying trench. Guthren slowly craned his neck to see another group of grenadiers patrolling along the sides of the trench. Everent swung his rifle around the tip of the trenches’ lip and was ready to take an aim to the group of grenadiers. But the corporal pushed the gun away.

Not wanting to attract attention from the enemy, Guthren urged the sergeant to keep moving. They trudged along the muddy trench discreetly, avoiding every patrol that they would stumble upon.

Everent rounded around the corner cautiously and ducked straight into an open square connection to the three main trenches on the Line. It was big enough for at least, two airships to land on it. Two large groups of grenadiers were gathering around a table, muttering among themselves with a string of words Everent couldn’t tell.