Wreckage Recon

Viking snapped his head around. Weston was still behind him, which was good. The castle rumbled when he’d taken his first step heading back up. Weston stumbled back, then inched along the ledge out of sight. After a few moments, he reappeared.

“I think it crashed into us,” he said.

“Let’s go.”

Halfway back up, the path was blocked by a mound of rubble. Examining the area closer, it looked to Viking like a large section of the wall came crashing down. At least it was passable. He got to work climbing. Caution was needed; not all the broken bits of wall were exactly stable. More than once, a piece of stone went tumbling down after he moved a foot or a hand. With the other noise coming from behind, he knew the others were following him. He only looked back once he was at the top. Looking down, he could say with confidence the mound was larger than it appeared. The others were still scampering to the top. Turning his attention ahead, he found the mound didn’t immediately go back down. He also found the wall no longer really existed from that point forward. It was taken out by the Warmonger.

Weston whistled. “So, you think anyone survived?”

Viking nodded. “It wasn’t too bad a crash.” The barrel of a 50mm gun was only a few feet away. It was hard to see inside its compartment with the dust in the air and dirt on the windows, but he could distinctly see movement within.

Weston, having put away his rifle for the climb, got it ready. Viking held up a hand. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but they couldn’t be too hasty with their next move. They could still get to the others, except Viking didn’t want to do that. He wanted to see about killing some more Khardis. If the surviving Berserkers were with him, they could probably stand a chance against the airship’s occupants. However, they were with the rest of the army further in, ready to help lead whatever defense was needed.

Viking inched forward. At the very least, they might be able to get a gauge of who was inside the ship. He motioned for the other two, leading a path through shadows and obstructions.

At the far end from him, there was open air. The Warmonger was tilted slightly, so its back end was lower than the front. The balloon appeared undamaged. The entrance hatch was below them, hanging inside the room below a little out of their reach. Close to it was what remained of the room’s outer wall.

As long as I’m careful.... Viking steadily climbed down onto the wall. The soldier from the room hissed.

Weston looked over the edge. “Sir, I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“I’ll be fine.” Viking dropped into the room.

There was a desk in the corner, an old bed with moth-eaten sheets in another. He called for the other two to join him. Once they were all down there, he walked over to the bed.

“Help me move this.”

They dragged the bed under the airship’s entrance, settling it on the former wall. Viking climbed on top. The handle for the airship’s hatch was barely in arm’s reach. He stretched out and grabbed it.

“I really want to reiterate how bad an idea this is,” Weston said. “We don’t know what’s on the other side of that door, sir.”

“Noted.” Viking turned the handle until the door opened. “Well, look at that. There’s no one there.” He swung the door fully open, then pulled himself up. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Fire on them if they start coming out. Either of you have a radio?”

They both shook their heads.

“Don’t worry about it, then. If you need help, our boys should be able to follow the gunshots.”

He disappeared from their sight.

The layout of the ship in Älgenhul was still fresh in his mind, so he used that for navigation. First, he headed toward the barracks. Sounds echoed in the hall as he went, voices. He kept his head swiveling, making sure no one was sneaking up on him. In the barracks he saw movement. A few men were in there, gathering themselves after the crash. Standard soldiers by the look of it. The room was not nearly full, but it was full enough that Viking decided not to go in. He kept moving, this time with the hangar as his destination. Peeking inside, he saw it was full of men. They were moving around, weaving through a mess of harnesses hanging from the ceiling. Parachutes were strapped to their backs. Again, regular soldiers.

“The hell happened?”

“I don’t know. Captain?”

“Achmed, go up to the pilots. That felt like a crash.”

Viking swiftly vanished under a cloak of shadows before Achmed left the room. The young Khardi jogged up the hall, stopping only for a soldier stepping out of the barracks. Viking stayed where he was.

“What happened?” The soldier was rubbing his forehead.

“Not sure,” Achmed said. “Captain thinks we crashed. He wanted me to verify.”

The other Khardi waved his hand. “Go do that. I need to sit down.”

The Khardi disappeared back into the barracks, and Achmed continued on his way. Viking emerged from his cover, then swiftly went back to the entrance. Weston and the other soldier were still out there, ready for a fight.

They lowered their weapons when they saw him. “Sir?”

Viking pointed at the other soldier. “Go tell everyone: regular soldiers armed for an invasion of the castle. I didn’t see any pyros or other specialized troops.”

The man saluted then ran off.

“We’re staying here for them,” Viking said. He slipped his standard S-12 from his shoulder, and jumped onto the bed. A snap sounded as the impact broke the bed frame. He posted up with Weston in the doorway.

“Did you see how many?” Weston asked.

“Enough.”