They came.
Hundreds of fearsome Behemoths galloped…charged…rumbled over the mile-long span of open terrain between the wilderness and the Geryon defenses. They moved like tanks on legs, their massive jaws swaying side to side with the motion of their bodies. Their mass blanketed that open stretch and surged forward as an unstoppable force.
Fromm's timing served his purpose; he sent his army forward with the sun still low in the sky yet just above the hilltops, meaning those laser-beam-like rays of light shooting in from the west nearly blinded the Geryon defenders and thus hid the true weight of the oncoming assault.
Geryon alarms-screeching horns and muffled shouts-sounded from behind the wall.
Both of the human 'guests' watched the battle unfold from atop a pack lizard, waiting with the second wave in the shadows of the mountainside. As he watched, Trevor felt he had never seen such a scary sight. He almost felt a twinge of sympathy for the Geryons. Almost.
As he watched the beasts approach the city, a sound stole his attention away from the sight. A roar. He wondered what other beasts fought at Fromm's command but saw that the sound belonged to a machine, not a monster.
A streak of five aircraft joined the battle. Each resembled more a flying gas tank on fire than the fighter jets of Trevor’s world. As he observed them, he felt certain they would explode on their own with no help from the enemy. Nonetheless, the rocket-planes roared forward above the mass of stampeding Jaw-Wolves.
Geryon fire rose to meet enemies on land and in the air.
A squad of the red-metal Golems stood their ground and raised the barrels on their robotic arms. Explosive shells and small missiles fired at the Behemoths. The armor-plated beasts did not so much engage the Golems as bowled them over, crushing and smashing until little more than scrap remained.
The Geryon towers came next. Heavy fire flashed from those guard posts like arrows of plasma, severing Jaw-Wolf limbs, puncturing eyes and blasting away chunks of gray armor plating. But that did not slow-not even a little-the breathing battering rams as they smashed into the main gate.
Geryon infantry dressed in leather and metal battle suits with tight-fitting helmets and ball-gag-like communicators fired futuristic crossbows and tossed hand-held explosive devices from the battlements.
In the sky, the Chaktaw’s air force rocketed directly for the dirigible. The rust-colored air ship with one central blimp and two smaller ones came to life. First, the gigantic, sharp anchors retracted into compartments on the front and rear of the battleship. Then the maneuvering propellers on its port side spooled to life and turned the nose cones of the three fuselages to face the fast-moving planes.
Those planes broke formation and scattered, turning from a flight of angry hornets into individual craft zigzagging and looping as they moved in closer to the target vessel.
Anti-air batteries onboard the battleship fired slowly and methodically, the exact opposite of what Trevor expected. However, the guns more than proved their mettle as their shells exploded in balls of crimson as if offering the grand finale of a fireworks display, creating a large kill zone and catching one of the planes with the first volley.
That rocket-plane smoked and rattled, dipped, then escaped to the west, a contrail of flame dancing from its aft quarters.
The remaining flyers attacked with nose-cone-mounted mini-guns. Bits and pieces of the battleship's protective outer layer flaked away but hull integrity held for the moment.
Trevor’s attention refocused to the ground attack as the second wave started forward. They did not march and they did not run; something in between.
Two thousand Chaktaw warriors comprised that second wave. They descended the mountainside with discipline but also with a determined enthusiasm. Ponchos morphed colors in reaction first to the dead bark of the trees then the pale green and dirty brown of the plains.
The pack animal carrying the two humans moved slow, keeping Trevor and Nina a safe distance to the rear. In contrast, Trevor spied Fromm at the head of the second wave with his rifle held high and waving his men forward.
Exactly where a leader is supposed to be.
Meanwhile, the Behemoths weathered the withering fire from the battlements and pounded at the gates with their armor-plated shoulders. A few even launched their extending jaws to batter away at the barrier.
The gate held…it held…it bent ever so slightly…the metal hinges and locks groaned from the strain…the guns in the guard towers intensified, ripping more of the attackers into bloody pieces but the monsters did not stop.
Then came the first crack in the middle of the two heavy doors. The constant smashing of the Behemoths from their bodies and their punching jaws was too much. Even as guns and grenades turned another ten of their number into gory piles, the creatures focused on the task.
Trevor recognized that blind determination, that blind loyalty. He often witnessed it in his army of K9s back home.
Finally, both doors of the gate gave way, one falling flat to the ground with a heavy impact, the other swinging open.
The mass of smiling Behemoths-some stacked on top of one another in their hunger to punch through the wall-hovered at the open portal for a moment. The streets of the city lay ahead; streets of dirt and gravel running between the obsidian peaks of the Geryon buildings and the sad remnants of Chaktaw architecture.
Across from them waited the last line of defense before anarchy: one hundred Golems of the Steel Guard in tight formation with their camera-eyes glowing. Yet somehow those beaked robotic skulls did not look so horrid in the face of Fromm’s pets.
Overhead, the massive solitary propeller at the rear of the three-pronged Geryon air ship revolved, the big blades turning slowly and providing the vehicle forward momentum.
The Chaktaw rocket planes made another series of runs, each from a different direction. Despite their speed, the attackers suffered another casualty from the battleship's anti-air batteries. A damaged fighter careened into a flat spin like an out of control bottle rocket before falling to the city in a gold and black fireball.
Below, the Chaktaw infantry advanced to support the Behemoths as the latter rushed the Steel Guard. Those machines opened fire with missiles and heavy shells, shattering several circular maws and ripping away armor plating. Two…five…a dozen Behemoths fell by the time the horde reached the defenders…and smashed their line under a sea of armor and teeth.
Behind that vanguard of Jaw-Wolves, Chaktaw rifles found targets along the walls and short-range artillery hit Geryon infantry forming for a counter-attack.
Trevor expected the Jaw-Wolves and the Chaktaw soldiers to fan out once they breached the wall. Instead, the column of Behemoths and the following infantry stayed tightly formed and advanced along the main street, bulling through any opposition.
Suddenly, a burst of light caused Trevor to avert his eyes, as if he had accidentally gazed into the sun. It seemed the battleship had brought its main gun to bear, sweeping a stream of energy into the lead elements of the assault. In an instant, a score of Behemoths disintegrated leaving behind charred, lifeless shells.
Despite this show of power, the advance did not falter. More Jaw-Wolves took the place of their fallen comrades with no hesitation. Behind those monsters came row upon row of determined Chaktaw soldiers.
Overhead, the fighter planes did their best to draw off the blimp. Their guns rained across the surface of the battleship even as its anti-air batteries responded with methodical shelling.
Another of the flyers exploded in mid air.
Two planes remained. Small odds against the lumbering juggernaut yet those planes did not panic, did not shy off. Instead, they accelerated and whizzed over and under the dirigible at speeds approaching supersonic.