Something of a small commotion was taking place over by the armored scout car. Voss lay on the ground, wrapped in a blanket and tarpaulin, as the benches in the crew compartment were occupied with sleeping grenadiers. As for himself, he stirred fitfully out of discomfort. The luminous dial on his watch read a few minutes past twenty-four hundred hours. Over the past two consecutive nights about this time, the captain and the Mongol would leave the perimeter of the laager without saying a word as to where they were going or why. Khan wore his magic vest that made him impervious to bullets and flak. He had overheard some of the crew marvel over its attributes, as Sergeant Vogel described its properties. Since leaving the tractor station, no one had words with, or even much of a glimpse of, the shaman, as the crew now referred to Khan. He rarely left the command vehicle, and when he did, it was usually at night. Shying away from the men’s company, he preferred to take his meals and smoke his pipe alone. When he was seen, it was something of an event, as his strange appearance and different ways helped to undercut some of the boredom. Vogel explained that the vest was made of horsehide, and sewn to the front and back were numerous objects: pieces of mirror and polished metal, small semiprecious stones, bits of obsidian, even meteorite fragments. Khan attributed tremendous powers to these talismans, which were arranged in a purposeful manner on the vest. He lugged the Soviet-made antitank rifle along. The long-barreled, bolt-action weapon had the appearance of some plumbing fixture. The canvas haversack he carried on his shoulder contained the large 14.5 mm shells. Falkenstein would usually take a panzerfaust or bell-shaped magnetic mine. Tonight he took neither as he limped with difficulty in an attempt to keep pace with Khan’s surefooted strides in the dark. Curious, Voss picked up the submachine gun that he kept beside him and followed the silhouettes as they walked into the burning fields. The procession, with Voss lagging behind at a discreet distance, lasted for over half an hour and followed a southwesterly direction. He could see Falkenstein clearly in the flickering, yellow-orange glow of an enormous fire in the distance. It must have been a hayrick or grain silo to cause such a terrific blaze, Voss thought. As he approached, he became aware that the captain stood alone. Although the fire lit up the surroundings like a beacon, Khan was nowhere in sight. Voss watched as Falkenstein unholstered his pistol and turned. His body may have been crippled but his instincts remained sharp and Voss knew the captain would drop him, and with justification, under the circumstances. “Don’t shoot, Captain. It’s only me, Lieutenant Voss.” He walked closer into the light so he could be seen, plainly. Falkenstein lowered his weapon. “Can’t sleep, Lieutenant?”
“I saw you leave, so I followed in the event you needed assistance.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered. This exercise will prove as futile as it has in the past.”
“Does Khan expect an ambush? Red Vengeance?” Voss felt exposed in the amber glare and dropped to one knee. Falkenstein remained standing. “He’s alert to some unknown presence in the vicinity, but it’s outside our senses to detect. The rogue baits me to accompany him on these nocturnal forays that, so far, have borne nothing substantial. Certainly not a hint of that accursed tank.”
“And what of Khan, sir? Does he simply abandon you, unprotected like this, when any danger can occur?”
Falkenstein seemed to laugh. “He has no doubt transformed himself into one of those animals of his. A bird of some kind, a steppe eagle or raven, circling the sky and keeping an eye on things, on me, only to return at dawn in his familiar shape. Never having witnessed the mechanics of this craft myself, I’ve only Khan’s word for it.”
“That being the case, could it be Khan is nothing more than a clever charlatan? Perhaps an outright liar?”
“You don’t know the man as I do. But tell me, from where do you draw such a harsh opinion of him, Lieutenant?”
“I can well imagine that being a bodyguard and personal magician to the captain is a far more prestigious qualification than as a mere Hiwi, or worse yet, a prisoner in a labor camp.”
“Not Khan. He’s too smart for that. He orientates me, Lieutenant, interprets my dreams. He claims I dream the future, or at least the possibility. Nightmares are more like it! Yet Khan guides me, reels me back in. Needless to say, he has the conjurer’s art down pat and has awed me with a trick or two. You witnessed one yourself.”
“I have?”
“Indeed. That dust storm on the morning when we first met. How do you think Vogel and I managed to elude an enemy mechanized corps for so long? Khan summoned that dust devil, and we drove hidden within…”
Voss could see the sense of marvel on the captain’s face. The white of one eye shone, and his teeth reflected the light from the fire as the eye patch and short dark beard dissociated the rest of his face.
“Even more astonishing is when he told me he’d been in communication with the spirits from my doomed command. He knew names and spoke in voices that were not his own and behaved with mannerisms familiar only to me. Make no mistake. The dead seek retribution. Khan acts as intermediary to those pale, bloodied ghosts. Naturally, I didn’t know what to make of this savage. Who is he, and how did he come to know so much? But something resonated deep within me and said to listen and abide. Some months ago, Khan prophesized that the day would come when every living creature would be driven from the steppe, and there would be fires everywhere. The very ground would be set ablaze, and the smoke would empty the sky of birds. When that day came, my hunt for Red Vengeance would soon be over. Take a good look, Lieutenant,” Falkenstein said, and pointed to the fires lighting up the night. “It appears that day has finally arrived.” As Voss looked to where Falkenstein pointed, his attention was drawn to a dark form that seemed to materialize from out of the flames. It was Khan.
“Be patient, Captain.”
“Don’t humor me. Patience is afforded only to those who have time, and we haven’t any.”
An intense heat emanated from Khan’s body. Voss could feel it, as though the man was a burning ember. What devil spawned this creature, he wondered? As though he could read thoughts, Khan turned to face Voss and hissed, nastily; then, just as abruptly, he turned his back and ignored him. To Falkenstein Khan said, “After your armies cross the river, and the Captain is left behind, then Red Vengeance will see you, and it will come.”
“That explains when. Now tell me where. Where should I go?”
“This is all I know, Captain.”
Discontented, Falkenstein started back to where the vehicles were laagered. It was Khan’s turn to follow. Voss thought it a strange shadow for a man to possess.
23
The crew broke camp and made preparations to get underway as Wilms neared the end of his stretch at the radio. The signalman was exhausted, not having slept much the night before, but he wasn’t allowed to succumb to fatigue. He listened and jotted down notes feverishly and thrust a handful of notepaper toward the nearest individual, who happened to be Sergeant Reinhardt. One look at the scrawled dispatches, and the sergeant bounded off the armored carrier and sprinted over to the command vehicle, where the captain and Lieutenant Voss plotted the day’s journey on the map. Falkenstein took the notes he was offered and, after he read, passed them on one by one to the lieutenant.
0500 hours: increase of heavy mortar activity. 0530 hours: artillery barrage accompanied by mass enemy infantry attack along corps sector. It got worse as Voss read on. By zero six hundred hours, a breakthrough had occurred, and a sizeable armored formation had been observed.