David Weber - The Road to Hell

Rokar and two thirds of his men went down like targets on a range, dropping without a sound as the stun bolts slammed into them. The other four gawked in disbelief, then turned and scrambled back towards the barracks door.

“Shit!”

Nourm glared after the escapees. The men who were already down would stay that way for at least twelve hours, but it was unlikely the rest of Fifty Varkan’s men were going to be returning fire with stun bolts of their own.

“Brysyl, suppressive fire on the windows!” the platoon sword snapped. “The rest of you, on me!”

Shield Brysyl Vahrtanak and the squad’s second section went instantly to one knee and brought their arbalests to their shoulders. The standard infantry arbalest was a heavy weapon, without the box magazine of the shorter, handier dragoon arbalest. It was also more powerful and longer ranged, however, and the spell assist stored in its integral sarkolis crystal allowed a trooper to span the powerful steel bow with a single stroke of the charging lever. The crystal was good for only sixty shots before it required recharging. After that, respanning the bow required six to eight throws and a hell of a lot more muscle, but until the spell was exhausted a trained arbalester could get off at least six aimed shots per minute. There were only two windows in the front wall of the barracks, and Vahrtanak’s section broke down into two three-man fire teams. Using sequenced fire, each section sent a stun bolt hissing through its assigned window every three seconds.

Unfortunately, each man had been issued only ten stun bolts. There’d been no way to draw more of them without somebody asking inconvenient questions. Which, given that there were fifty-four men in Varkan’s platoon and that not every shot was going to hit its target, meant there were far too few of them to go around.

There was an answer to that, however, and Briahk and the squad’s first section followed Nourm as they charged the barracks. Someone inside already had his act together and, despite the stun bolts sizzling through the windows several of Varkan’s men were getting shots off in reply. The fire was hasty and not very well aimed, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t deadly, and one of Briahk’s men went down with a cry of pain as a steel-headed bolt drove into him. At least 1st Platoon’s dragons were locked up in the armory right beside 3rd Platoon’s, so there were no lightning bolts or fireballs coming at them.

Nourm and Briahk reached the boardwalk in front of the barracks side-by-side and flung themselves down, rolling across the rough-surfaced planking until they fetched up against the wall itself, directly beneath the windows. The sword yanked the fist-sized grenade off his belt, twisted the arming knob, and heaved it through the window above him. He heard it thump and rattle on the wooden floor, heard someone shout in alarm, and heard Briahk’s grenade land a heartbeat after his own, and then the spells activated.

A shattering blast of light and sound erupted inside the barracks. A stun bolt’s spellware had to physically contact its object to take effect. Area spells with the same basic capabilities were possible, but their radius of effect was broader than the range to which the average trooper could throw them, and intervening obstacles offered whoever had thrown them no protection against their paralysis. Flash-bangs, however, were designed to incapacitate without actually rendering their targets unconscious. The sheer intensity of the flash of light they released was sufficient to stun and temporarily blind anyone who encountered it, and the disorienting effect of the accompanying blast of sound was guaranteed to disable anyone who encountered it. While they were classified as nonlethal weapons, they could cause permanent damage to anyone too close to one of them when the spell detonated, and Nourm knew Fifty Sarma and Fifty Ulthar had hoped they wouldn’t be required.

Hope didn’t win very many battles, however.

He heard voices raised in anguish-probably from men who’d been farther away when the flash-bangs went off, although the barracks bay was too small for anyone to have been very far away-and nodded at Briahk.

“All right, you lazy bastards!” the javelin barked to the men of his section. “Let’s get in there before they figure out what hit them!”

* * *

Traymahr Sahnger heard the flash-bangs go off inside 1st Platoon’s barracks. Varkan’s platoon had been Sword Nourm’s first target, and Sahnger supposed he was happy for the sword, since detonating flash-bangs had a tendency to settle people down in a hurry. Unfortunately, there’d been only six flash-bangs available, and they’d all been issued to Nourm’s squad, since they’d been the ones tasked to deal with the other two platoons.

Which meant Sahnger and his men would have to do it the hard way.

His shoulder slammed into the second barracks building’s rear door, bursting it open, and he and the eight men with him went through it in a rush. Unlike Fifty Varkan’s platoon, the men of Commander of Fifty Dernys Yankaro’s 3rd Platoon, B Company had been sound asleep until the alarm spell sounded. They were still rolling out of their bunks, reaching for their trousers, wondering what the hells was going on, when Sahnger and his men erupted into their midst.

“Just sit where the fuck you are!” Sahnger bellowed.

“Who the hell are y-?!”

The shouted question ended in a grunt and the thud of a body hitting the floor as one of Sahnger’s troopers hit the loudmouthed 3rd Platoon javelin center of mass with a stun bolt. At that short range, even a stun bolt could do significant physical damage from an infantry arbalest, but it was unlikely to kill anyone. It did incapacitate its target quite handily, however, and Yankaro’s surprised men froze in shock.

“Every one of you back in your racks right the hell now!” Sahnger snapped, taking advantage of the moment of silence. Some of the 3rd Platoon troopers automatically obeyed the bark of command. Others looked at one another with varying degrees of confusion and building anger, and Sahnger nodded to Taswan Slokyr. The burly trooper took one step forward and slammed the butt of his arbalest none too gently into the back of one of the dawdlers.

Slokyr’s victim hit the floor flat on his face with a shout of anguish. It was entirely possible, even probable, that he’d acquired a broken shoulder blade in the process, but Slokyr was back in his original position, arbalest in a hip-high firing position, almost before the other man landed.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Sahnger grated.

For just a moment, he felt it hovering in the balance. He and his eight troopers were hopelessly outnumbered by 3rd Platoon’s forty-eight men, but none of their opponents were armed and none of them had a clue yet as to what was actually happening. If they’d been willing to rush Sahnger’s squad, they probably could have swarmed them under anyway, but they weren’t willing to take the casualties. Not yet. Not without at least some idea of what was happening. And so the moment passed and 3rd Platoon’s men sank sullenly back onto their bunks, glaring furiously at Sahnger.

* * *

Ulthar and Sarma heard the flash-bangs as well as they hurried out of the administration building, leaving Hathnor to keep an eye on the immobilized Thalmayr and Bahbar.

“ That doesn’t sound good,” Sarma remarked.

“Could sound a hells of a lot worse, unless you think there’s some reason for Vargan or Yankaro to’ve issued flash-bangs at their men,” Ulthar pointed out.

“There’s that,” Sarma acknowledged. “Me to the barracks?”

“And me to the brig,” Ulthar agreed.

The fifties separated, running in almost opposite directions.