SNAFU: Black Ops

RAID ON WEWELSBERG Seth Skorkowsky -A Valducan Story –

Bombs erupted in the distance, crackling like popcorn in a kettle. I lifted my gaze, searching for any signs of aircraft moving across the stars. Thousands of silver contrails striped the blackened skies to the north, heading east.

"They gettin' closer?" Dennis Buckland asked beside me. The huge man nervously fingered the flanged, iron mace, Velnepo, at his hip.

I shook my head. "They're keeping their distance. Which means the Americans might be closer than we anticipated." I scanned the horizon, unable to see the castle beyond the treetops. Despite the futility of the endeavor, I searched the shadows across the road for Audrey to no avail. Good.

Dennis peered back across the empty field beside us as if expecting the approaching army. "Shouldn' we move?"

Peter Brown sucked a palmed cigarette, its orange glow welling beneath his closed fingers. He leaned against the car, his calm a complete opposite of Dennis' unease. The black SS uniform fit the American well. The only part of his ensemble that appeared out of place was the sacred axe, Glisuan, tucked at the back of his belt. His chiseled cheekbones, strong jaw, and pale eyes made him look every bit the part of Himmler's elite, although I doubted he would want to hear such a compliment. His brother had died fighting the Nazis in Italy. "I told you we should have setup closer to the castle."

"We keep to the plan," I said, ignoring Peter's remark.

We waited in silence. The bombs slowed and finally ceased, leaving only the sounds of crickets, breeze-rustled leaves, and the occasional artillery shell thundering in the distance.

Footsteps hurried up the road toward us. "Lady Meadows," Richard Simon said, his wool coat flapping behind him. "They're coming."

I straightened at once. "Everyone in position." My hand moved to Feuertod at my hip, squeezing the grip to calm my worn nerves. If our plan didn't succeed, the holy weapons stolen by the Third Reich might be lost forever. They were mankind's only defense against the demonic forces bent to destroy us all. While the sacred rapier could not speak, I felt his soothing comfort nonetheless. Like the war at large, only one outcome was acceptable here. Victory. Doubt was a luxury I could not afford.

Richard slowed as he neared. His bronze, Celtic sword, Saighnean, hung from his shoulder like a slung rifle. His beakish nose and small chin made him appear almost child-like beneath the flared black helmet. Appearances aside, he was one of the most capable Valducan knights I'd ever known.

Peter pulled one final draw from his cigarette before dropping and grinding it out beneath his boot. He clicked on a torch and shined it under the car's open bonnet, muttering angry curses as if the vehicle were truly broken and our approaching audience could actually see him.

The tell-tale growl of a motorcycle rumbled ahead, growing louder. It rounded the bend, its single lamp masked beneath a hood, allowing only a sliver of white light. A blocky sidecar bounced at its right like an ill-sized dance partner, its mounted machinegun reminiscent of a knight's lance. A moment later, a large truck followed, its own lights darkened.

On with the show. I stepped forward, a leather attaché clutched to my chest.

The motorcycle slowed as we came into view, our car blocking the road. The soldier in the sidecar swiveled the machinegun us at us.

"Don't shoot!" Dennis shouted, raising one hand to block the light from his eyes.

Richard stepped up beside him, palms open.

The truck's brakes whined to a halt behind the motorcycle and its lamps flipped on, bathing us in light. The machine gunner appeared to relax his grip as he noticed our black SS uniforms.

A head clad in a peaked cap leaned out the truck's passenger window. His harsh voice shouted, "Identify yourselves!"

I pushed my way to the front. "We were sent to speak with Major Heinz Macher. And turn off your lights you fools — the invaders are near."

The lights flipped off.

"Who are you?" the man demanded, his voice still edged with suspicion.

"Elfriede Gar," I lied, holding the leather case out like a talisman. "We've come from Bremen with artifacts and records."

"He is not here."

I swallowed. Hell's bells! "Do you know where I might find him? It's very important."

The man sat silent for a moment, then waved us forward.

I hurried to the idling truck, Dennis behind me. I climbed up to the driver's side window as Dennis approached the side where the speaker sat. "Have you seen Major Macher?"

The officer in the peaked cap frowned, his thick monobrow creasing in the middle. "He's still at the castle."

"Are you transporting the relics?" I asked, a bit more desperation in my voice than I had intended.

"What do you want?"

"We have more artifacts for him. Himmler himself ordered us to bring them personally." I pushed the leather attaché in through the window, forcing the confused driver to remove his hand from the wheel to accept it. "Our auto broke down. Can you take us to him?"

The lieutenant accepted the case from the driver and fumbled with the clasp. "No. We will not turn around."

"But, the Major must have these," I urged. "Look." I drew Feuertod from his scabbard and held the ornate swept hilt up for him to see.

The man gave a frustrated huff. He glanced over the stack of papers inside the case. I knew he couldn't read them in the scant light, which was fine. They were a meaningless distraction. "I cannot take you. The castle is three kilometers back. You can make it, but must hurry."

"Thank you." I lowered my rapier below the window and pressed its point against the truck's door. Every sacred weapon possesses a unique gift, a power beyond any mortal creation. Feuertod's blessing manifests as an astonishingly strong and keen blade. The sheet metal door screeched as I drove the sword through with no more effort than if it were stout cardboard. The slender blade pierced the driver's side, through his ribs, and emerged below his right armpit. The man gave a terrible wheeze as the blade skewered both of his lungs. His reflexive jerk at the violation only served to worsen the injury, the razor edge slicing his flesh like pudding. The truck lurched and stalled as his foot came off the brake.

The Nazi officer shrieked. Papers spilled across his lap as he fumbled for his gun. Dennis sprang up, reached through the window, and rammed a trench knife up and under the bastard's jaw. Blood poured from the SS man's mouth.

The men in the motorcycle cried in alarm. The gunner's hand moved for his weapon.

Audrey Turgen appeared beside them, emerging from a curtain of shadow. She hacked her sword, Rowlind, into the machine gunner's neck. Without slowing, she drove her boot into the driver's ribs.

The man cried out in surprise and pain as he fell. He scrambled for his sidearm but she was already up and over the motorcycle, the sword tip pressed against his chest.

"Don't move," she commanded.

The motorcycle driver froze, his wide eyes fixed on the bloodied blade as the machine gunner gurgled and died behind her.

Simon and Peter raced toward us.

Three dead and one prisoner without a single shot. With a satisfied smile, I pulled my rapier back out of the truck's door."Good show."

After disarming Audrey's captive and leaving her to guard, we circled around to the rear of the paneled truck. Something heavy shifted inside. Obviously they were transporting something from the fortress. If not the plundered holy weapons, then possibly some of the many rare tomes, sacred relics, paintings, or other treasures Himmler's cult had amassed. Whatever it was, our duty was to make sure neither they, nor the closing Allies, got them. There was no telling how many SS guards were inside, all wondering why exactly they'd stopped moving.

We formed a semicircle before the double doors. Peter stood to my right, his MP40 submachine gun ready. There was no need for the ruse any longer. To my left, Richard drew his bronze sword. Feuertod in one hand, I unholstered my Walther with the other and nodded to Dennis.

The big man slid the mace from his belt and approached the doors. He banged the weapon's pommel against the wood. Boom. Boom. Boom. "We're opening the door. Weapons down. Hands above your head." Velnepo ready, he popped the sturdy latch open.

The door burst wide, knocking Dennis to the ground. With a screaming roar, two giant creatures charged from the darkened truck. Thick muscles bulged beneath their hairless, pale skin. Their snarling mouths protruded past the upper rims of their oversized German helmets.

The first one leaped to the ground, landing on all fours and lunged toward me.

Peter's machinegun erupted, spewing flashes of fire. Bullets stitched across the monster's chest.

It stumbled back, but the bloody holes mended in a heartbeat. The beast roared again, rising to its full seven-foot height. It swiped one of its long arms at Peter. Hooked claws capped each of its fingers. The knight hopped back, replying in kind with another burst into the creature's face.

The howling beast shook its head, flinging blood from its mangled sockets.

Seizing the opening as its eyes reformed, I lunged and drove my rapier straight into the monster's chest.

The beast stiffened. I withdrew the blade, pulling it to the side, and cut a wide gash.

The monster crumpled. Its cloven ribcage cracked wide, spilling its contents onto the rutted dirt road.

The second creature dove toward Dennis, still on the ground. He scrambled backwards on all fours. He'd dropped his mace when the door had slammed into him.

Richard ran forward, twirling Saighnean in figure eights. The weapon's gift was that the blade continued gaining momentum as long as he kept it moving. By the time he had crossed the three paces, the Celtic sword whistled through the air faster than any propeller blade.

The creature ducked and sprang back from the blurring blade. Richard moved in, but a rifle flash erupted from the back of the truck. Richard's helmet pinged with the bullet's impact and he stumbled.

The soldier in the truck worked his rifle's bolt. I raised my pistol and fired three rapid shots. Two hit, and the soldier fell behind a makeshift cover of stacked boxes.

Without Richard's imposing blade, the monster moved toward him.

"No!" I cried, racing to intercept it, but Dennis scooped Velnepo off the ground and dove at the monster's back.

The iron mace struck the creature's side. Bones cracked and the beast folded around the impact like a rag doll struck with a cricket bat. The inhuman force from the blessed mace sent the monster's mangled body fifteen feet through the air before it hit the ground with a meaty thump.

Grabbing the edge of the truck, Peter swung inside, his machinegun ready. He stepped around the wall of boxes and aimed it down to where the shooter had fallen. "He's still alive."

"Make sure he doesn't have any more surprises," I said. "Richard, are you all right?"

He nodded. "Really rang my bell there, didn't it?" Richard removed the German SS helmet and checked the finger-length dent from where the bullet had struck. "I suppose I shouldn't have argued about wearing this." He chuckled nervously.

Satisfied he was only shaken, I was about to return my attention to the truck when something caught my attention. "Richard, let me see that helmet."

"Of course." He offered it out, a little grin at the corner of his mouth. "I assume you'll be wanting one too, now that I've tested it."

Accepting the steel hat, I gave it a closer inspection. White metal, gleaming in the moonlight against the black helm, ran the length of the dent. Curious. Why would it do that? "Sir Buckland."

"Aye?" Dennis replied.

"Would you check that soldier's rifle? I would like to see the bullets." I handed the helmet back to Richard, who now studied the dent with closer scrutiny.

"Aye. One thing you might want to see first, Lady Meadows." Dennis motioned to the two dead monsters. "Why aren't they burnin'?"

My eyes widened as I looked again at the crumpled, inhuman forms. When killed with a holy weapon, a demon's essence burns with a phantasmal fire as it leaves the host body. But these did not. In the excitement I'd completely overlooked the phenomenon. My gaze moved to Feuertod's blade, still stained with the monster's dark, and most definitely unburning blood. Most curious.

Dennis hurried back into the truck as I examined the corpse of the beast I'd killed. Even now, the huge muscles and elongated bones shriveled back to those of its human host. Angular brands, like runes, scarred its chest.

Richard stepped beside me and stooped, rolling the monster's left arm over. He grunted and I spied the ring on the creature's hand. Similar symbols decorated the silver band while a skull and crossbones adorned the top.

My lip curled into a sneer. A Totenfomphring — the honour ring for Himmler's most loyal. It appeared the demon's human vessel had been SS. Burn in Hell, you bastard. I was about to compliment Richard on noticing it when I realized his attention was not on the grotesque jewelry, but at a strip of numbers crudely tattooed on the pale forearm.

"What is this?" he growled, his voice low.

I blinked. Concentration camp? Why would he be wearing a Totenfomphring?

"Lady Helen," Dennis said, climbing back out from the truck. "Look here." He held out a single rifle round.

"Silver," I said, looking it over.

He nodded. "Got boxes of 'em."

"That's useful for us," I said, "But why would the Nazis need them?"

He shrugged.

With a final glance at the beastly corpses, I looked at the soldier still under Audrey's guard. "Then let us ask our new friends."

"Well, what do you know." Peter shone his torch into one of the wooden boxes.

Turning my attention from the crate of books, I peered over the raised lid. Thousands of silver rings filled the inside, each with the familiar skull and crossbones. Upon the bearer's death, each ring was sent to Wewelsburg Castle. Evidently the SS found it important to recover them before the Americans arrived.

Peter let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of dead krauts." He turned to me. "What do we do with them?"

"Load them in the car." I gestured to the books I was scouring. "This crate as well. Fit as much as you can. We'll burn the rest." The words stung. As a Librarian, destroying books was among the highest of sins. But we hadn't room for them all, and from what my brief inspection had gleaned, whatever foul knowledge the Nazis had amassed was nothing either side should have. It was far too dangerous.

I climbed down from the truck, passed the two corpses of what had once been monsters, now emaciated men with shaven heads and tattooed arms, and stopped where Audrey and Richard were guarding our two prisoners. The man I'd shot lay on his back, his waxy skin glistening in the scant light. He clutched a red-soaked rag against his side. The other, the motorcyclist, watched me with cautious, hateful eyes.

"Have they talked yet?" I asked.

Audrey shook her head. "Not a peep." Unlike the rest of us in our confiscated uniforms, Lady Turgen wore a charcoal gray poncho, striped in black, and her dark hair was tied in a tight bun. Her delicate features and cupid bow lips made her appear more suited for fancy dress than warfare. But as any Valducan knows all too well, a gentle facade often masks lethality.

"I'll only ask this once," I said to the prisoners, my voice even and cold, "where are the weapons?"

"Safe from you," the wounded one spat.

"Allow me to be clear. We are not the British or the Americans. We are not bound by the Articles of the Geneva Convention. What were those creatures? And where were you taking them?"

"Fuck you, British whore. I—"

His words ended as Audrey ran Rowlind straight into the man's chest. He gave a wet moan and fell silent.

I turned to the motorcyclist, his wide eyes fixed on his dead companion. "I will only ask you this once—"

"Augsburg," he blurted. "We were heading to Augsburg."

"And the weapons?"

"Major Macher is escorting those and the cauldron personally."

"Cauldron?" I asked.

He nodded. "The Life Vessel."

I glanced to Audrey and Richard. They both shrugged. "And what were those creatures?"

"Die Kesselgeburten," he said. "The undying warriors."

I pursed my lips. Cauldron-born? "What of the rings?"

The prisoner's hand tightened, his fingers concealing the silver band I'd already seen. "Those who die for the Reich will live forever."

"Through the rings?" Richard asked.

The prisoner gave a reluctant nod.

"What about those men?" Richard's voice grew uncharacteristically sharp. "Prisoners? What happened to them?"

The man didn't answer.

"What did you do to them?" Richard shouted.

I held up a hand. We were losing sight of the immediate goal. "Are the weapons and the cauldron still at the castle?"

"They were when we left," the prisoner said. "Major Macher was to take the other route."

"So they might have already left." I turned to see Peter and Dennis loading the crates into the car. "We must hurry. Richard, do what you must."

I'd made it three steps toward the vehicle when the man cried out behind me. While Richard Simon was a gentleman in every sense of the word, he was also a Jew. Peter had referred to him as my puppy behind my back. But Richard's hatred of Germans surpassed even my own. He was quick with the prisoner, but not merciful. No one objected to the treatment.

I thought of my late husband, eighteen and cut down in the final days of the First Great War. Despite my distaste for the race, Feuertod was technically German. But that was fitting. Germans excelled at killing, and killing was Feuertod's specialty.

"Are we done?" I asked as Dennis heaved a wooden box into the back. He carried one of the newly confiscated rifles with silver ammunition over one shoulder.

"Aye. That's all she'll hold."

"Very well. Peter, can you operate that?" I asked, pointing to the sidecar-mounted machine gun.

He shrugged. "Shouldn't be too hard."

"Then get in."

Peter and Dennis exchanged a look. "Why not Dennis?" he asked. "He's Arms Master."

While a capable knight, his American enthusiasm had caused more than its fair share of tensions between us. Truth be told, I didn't like him out of my sight. His vocal opinions might be contagious. I gave him a flat look. "Because I told you."

Peter blew a breath, wiping sweat from his face. "I'd love to give it a whirl."

"Good." I turned as Richard moved up behind me, wiping the blood from his sword. "You drive the auto. Try to keep up."

I removed the riding goggles from the dead driver, happily noting that either Richard or Audrey had taken the silver rings from the bodies. Pulling the goggles on, I straddled the bike. Blood spattered the sidecar from its former occupant, but Peter crawled inside without complaint, sliding his newly plundered rifle between his legs.

"Hold on." I kick-started the engine, unleashing a loud roar. I maneuvered the bike around, a task made much harder with the sidecar, and started up the road.

Audrey hurried from the back of the truck and dove into the car. It started after me and moments later fire exploded from the truck, sending a ball of smoke into the sky.

Wind whipped at my cheeks and jacket. It had been over three years since I'd last ridden, and the rumble of the engine brought that familiar, exhilarating calm. My mind focused. The weapons were still our highest priority. The Nazis had stolen at least three of them in their conquests. Each one housed an angel, and only those the angel found worthy could wield their divine gifts. A Valducan knight is bound to their weapon. It is the single greatest honour to feel an angel's love. Not only had the Nazis stolen and hoarded their ill-gotten gains, they'd murdered the owners. And while I'd never met most of them, or even known their names, they were weapon-bound. That made them family. I gunned the engine and sped toward Wewelsburg Castle.

We passed through a tiny village, the lights out and windows shuttered. Either the occupants were still hiding from the distant bombings or had fled the approaching army. A few automobiles and carts, lashed with trunks and furniture, told that more would be leaving soon. The winding road turned and I could see the great black form of the fortress atop the hill, barely discernible against the night sky.

I slowed as we followed the steep, narrow road. Our disguises might work in staying the trigger fingers of any SS lurking in the trees, but not if we were driving as if on the attack.

The fortress itself was quite simple — two narrow, domed towers and a large, flat-topped one, the walls between them forming a triangle. But it was also the black heart of the SS, and the crown jewel of Hitler's mad vision. God only knew what horrors had transpired within those three stone walls. I'd never wanted to see such an evil place as this.

Reaching the hilltop, I steered us into a darkened car park. It was empty save for two vehicles — a civilian sedan and a blocky army wagon that appeared to have seen its share of combat. Bullet holes riddled the side and back, and a rear wheel was missing.

Damn, I thought. They've already left. They couldn't have made it far, and we knew they were headed to Augsburg. I rolled the motorcycle deeper into the car park, praying there might be a further portion that I'd missed. A cluster of buildings stood along one side. Barracks or offices, I guessed.

A single motorcycle rested in the shadow of the larger building. The car with the other knights rolled into the lot behind us. Its hooded lights provided meager help in seeing the castle grounds.

"What are you doing here?" a voice shouted.

I lifted my goggles to see a plain-clothed man racing from the barrack house.

He waved his hands above his head. "Go! Get out of here!"

He was almost upon us when Peter raised his StG 44 and leveled it on him.

"What are you doing, idiot?" the stranger shouted. "We need to…" His voice trailed off as he looked at me, seeming to really notice me for the first time. A woman in uniform was rare, but one driving a motorcycle was unheard of. "Who are you?"

"Keep your hands where I can see them," I ordered. "What are you doing here?"

"I… The castle," he stammered. "I'd heard it was abandoned."

I narrowed my eyes. The man could have been a villager. The Nazis had been known to tell the locals to loot as they retreated. It destroyed evidence before the Allies might seize it. But his mannerisms, shoulders back, and straight posture said soldier. "When did they leave?"

"A few hours ago."

The car's tires ground over the pavement and Dennis slowed to a stop behind us. I didn't move my eyes from the stranger.

"What's he saying," Peter hissed. He was the only member of our team that couldn't speak German. But his other skills, most especially Glisuan, had warranted his inclusion.

"He said we missed them by hours."

"We know that's bullshit."

"Don't shoot," I warned, sensing his intentions.

The man shifted nervously. Barely turning his head, he glanced behind him.

"Is there anyone else?" I demanded.

"No," the man said. "It's just me."

"Right hand," Peter said. "Ring."

The man must have understood some English because his straight fingers relaxed, curling and concealing the glint of silver on his right hand.

They're dressed as civilians. Those cars we passed might have been theirs. Damn it! "When did they leave?" I demanded. "Where's Macher?"

"They—"

The barracks behind him exploded with a terrible roar. Glass, splintered shutters, and flaming debris blasted from the windows. Without the sidecar, the concussion might have toppled my bike. Stunned, my ears wailing in a high-pitched buzz, I looked around. Fire consumed the building, illuminating the lot and the castle beside us. Oily smoke plumed into the sky.

The blast had knocked the Nazi to the ground. He scrambled up and started away toward his now fallen motorcycle, but Peter's gun barked two loud pops and the man staggered and fell. He rolled on the ground, clutching his hip.

The American turned to me, his goggled eyes wide. "Are you okay?" I could barely hear him.

"Yes," I forced myself to say. I gave a quick inspection that nothing was hurt or on fire. "I'm all right. You?"

"Good." He crawled out from the sidecar and started toward the injured man, his rifle trained.

A second explosion erupted to our left. Flames burst from one of the smaller castle towers. Bits of rock and wood rained down like hail stones. A section of wall lurched and fell away. Fiery smoke poured from the opening.

Choking on dust, I turned around, twisting in my saddle. They'd wired the building to blow. We needed to get out of here. The car's windscreen had shattered. "Is everyone all right?" I coughed.

Shielding his eyes from the flickering light, Richard pointed behind me. "Look!"

Whirling, I searched the smoke and shadows and gasped. Enormous, hunched figures poured out from the castle like rats fleeing a sinking ship. They ran from the smoking hole and clambered out the windows, scuttling up the walls.

A pair of beasts burst through the castle's double doors. They charged across the short, stone bridge toward us, running on all fours like albino, hairless gorillas. Snarling, the lead monster pounded toward the injured Nazi.

"I'm one of you!" the man shouted, holding up his bloodied hands.

The creatures slowed, their eyes locked on the silver ring.

"They are enemies of the Reich!" The man gestured our direction. "Kill them!"

To my amazement, the monsters followed his orders, aiming their charge toward us. Any assumptions I'd had that these were mere demons were instantly dashed. I ripped Feuertod from his sheath, ready to take them on.

Shots erupted to my right. Rifle at his shoulder, Peter fired at the creatures with rapid bursts. The lead one stumbled and the second one trampled over it. Bloody plumes exploded across its chest. The silver bullets definitely hurt them, but not enough to ensure a quick kill.

Staggering, the creature bellowed, spraying bloody froth. It swiped its claws at me, but I sidestepped the clumsy attack and slashed my rapier across its side. Split ribs peeled apart and the monster screamed. I moved to finish it off, but was forced back as a third beast leaped toward me. It swung its enormous arm, claws splayed. I raised Feuertod into the attack, bracing the sword with both hands. The blessed blade met the beast's forearm, slicing through the muscle and bone. Blood sprayed and the severed claw flew past my shoulder.

The monster fell without a sound and began shriveling back to its once human form. The ring, I thought. Remove the rings and they die.

More machinegun fire thundered. Someone screamed.

Creatures continued fleeing the castle, most heading our way. The other knights were out of the car. Richard twirled Saighnean in tight, elaborate circles around himself, the blade accelerating to a metallic blur. Dennis stood behind him, his arm cocked and mace ready. Peter fired the last of his magazine at a charging beast and dropped his rifle. I didn't see Audrey at all.

"What's the order?" Peter asked, drawing Glisuan from his belt as he hurried toward us.

Dennis' response echoed my sentiments. "Kill the fuckin' bastards."

"Do it," I ordered.

Setting his jaw, Peter faced the oncoming hoard and swung the Norse axe as if throwing it. A brilliant purple-white lightning bolt shot from the head with a deafening crackle. It arced and jumped between two of the monsters. Electricity skittered between the fangs on their open mouths and danced across their bodies. Fire spewed from their blackening skin and exploded from their eyes. The monsters fell, smoldering.

More of them poured down the castle's walls and clambered up the low trench, separating it from the car park. A wave of snarling beasts charged toward us.

"Circle up!" I ordered.

Another brilliant stroke of lightning lanced up the castle, knocking one from the roof and setting it ablaze. The bolt's jagged image lingered in my vision even after I blinked. Dennis fired a luger in his off-hand, wounding two with silver slugs before the gun clicked empty. We formed a rough circle with Richard to my left, facing the oncoming hoard.

A closing beast leaped and came down at Richard, claws out. They met the whirring haze of his moving sword and were unmade as the blade shredded them. Blood and bits of fingers and bone sprayed everywhere — a truly spectacular sight had I not been in the red mist's range. The offending ring, destroyed or severed from the host, and the monster crumpled without a sound.

"Helen, I'm opposite you," Audrey's voice called from the shadows. "Don't fire."

Bypassing Richard's field of death, one of the monsters moved toward me. Gripping my rapier tight, I crouched, readying for the attack. The giant beast approached cautiously, black eyes locked on my blade. These things were tough. I needed to kill it or remove the ringed finger in one strike or else it would tear me apart. Moving the blade to the side, I began a feint when Audrey melted out from the space behind it, the shadows peeling from her like smoke.

She slashed Rowlind along the backs of its legs, hamstringing it. Bellowing, the maimed creature lurched backwards. It stepped to catch itself, but its injured leg folded beneath it.

Audrey had already melted back into the shadows before the beast hit the ground. She reappeared two yards away, crippling another as she ran.

I sprang at the fallen monster, and drove Feuertod up under its ribs. Pulling the sword to the side, it sliced a devastating wound.

Glisuan's lightning crackled again. The sharp stink of ozone tinged the smoky air.

Another beast stepped over its fallen brethren and lunged toward me. Stepping into the attack, I ducked the blurred arc of its claws and slashed my sword deep across its belly before moving to the side. Blood and entrails spilled from the wound but the creature refused to fall. Screaming, it took a lumbering step and raised its claw. I rammed Feuertod through its open mouth, sending six inches of steel out the back of its skull. The monster fell so suddenly that it almost wrenched the impaling sword from my grip.

A roar bellowed beside me as a creature fell to its knees, another victim of Audrey's blade. Dennis slammed his mace into its side, launching the corpse ten feet where it crashed into another.

The flames had spread through the castle and completely consumed the barrack house. Audrey's translucent form solidified as the welling orange light flickered across the lot.

A ring of mutilated and burning bodies surrounded us, most dead but a few still messily expiring. The near-forgotten Nazi was crawling to the edge of the car park, trailing blood. Peter launched another stroke of lightning, picking off one of the stragglers loping our direction.

The brief flash illuminated a half dozen more of the monsters racing away down the bare hill below the castle. Damn.

"They're going for the village!" I shouted. "Dennis, get in the sidecar. The rest of you finish these off." I stabbed my sword in the crawling man's direction. "And someone stop him!"

Hurrying between fallen corpses, I climbed onto the motorcycle.

Dennis awkwardly folded his enormous frame into the tiny cab.

"Hold on," I said and gunned the engine.

Tires squealed as we took off, the jolt knocking him the rest of the way into the seat. I steered the bike around and started down the walled road. Lightning flashed behind us. The slitted beam from the head lamp cut through the smoky haze. We rounded a turn, a maneuver made slow from the heavy sidecar, and we were now facing the sloping hill.

The great fires above lit the scene before us. Dark silhouettes moved in the distance on all fours headed toward the village. Light peeked through open windows as citizens watched the fortress burn.

We had to stop them. None of the villagers or approaching American army had any defense against the Nazis' abominations.

"There!" Dennis shouted, his words drowned under the engine's roar. Leaning into the mounted gun, he squeezed the trigger, unleashing a gout of stuttering fire. Tiny pink comets of tracer rounds, mixed with the silver ammunition, flew across the open spans. A second barrage peppered one of the beasts and it fell, tumbling down the slope.

The other monsters charged toward us, keeping low as more bullets sailed wildly above them.

A beast leaped as it reached the stone embankment, claws splayed as it flew toward us. Dennis swiveled the gun and unleashed a stream of fire, nearly sawing it in half. The corpse landed in the road just before us. I jerked the motorbike to the side, almost tipping it. The wheels struck the beasts leg, launching us momentarily airborne before the bike thudded down. Amazingly, we didn't crash. Aside from weapons, I must confess that Germans do make a fine vehicle.

We hit a straightaway and I gunned the engine. Wind whipped my face as we shot down the hill. Reaching the curve at the bottom, I slowed and turned, giving Dennis' gun full view of the hill.

The MG34 roared. Pink comets shot up the slope, their ricochets bouncing off rocks like errant fireworks. Two more of the creatures fell. Another stumbled as bullets struck its thick thigh, but the gun fell silent before finishing it off.

"Out!" Dennis shouted.

Dismounting the vehicle, we marched up the slope. I dispatched the final monster with a quick thrust of my sword.

I surveyed my surroundings but couldn't find any more of the creatures. A few silhouettes still watched us from the village's windows. Tomorrow they'd share stories about how the Nazis had burned the castle and in dawn's light see the executed prisoners that had tried to flee. I amputated the corpse's ringed finger and wrenched the silver band free. "Collect the rings. Then let's get back and see what our prisoner can tell us about where the weapons are."

2 May, 1945

"They're loading the boats," I said, peering through the field glasses. I lay in the hollow of a bomb crater, with a commanding view of the small encampment. SS soldiers, many of them so young I doubted they could even remember a time before Hitler's reign, patrolled the convoy of trucks parked alongside a lake. Pale moonlight reflected across the still, black waters.

For a full month we'd pursued our quarry. By the time we'd made it to Augsburg, Macher had already delivered the stolen artifacts. A special SS division called the Nibelungen had taken the treasures east, destined for Czechoslovakia.

With the countryside swarming with Nazis either preparing for a glorious last stand or deserters desperate to flee their inevitable destruction by the Allies, we had to move slow. Spending our days hiding in barns and bombed ruins, we followed them past Munich, were nearly struck by an air raid outside of Freising, and had nearly caught up at Landshut. However with the bridges out and the Allies drawing near, the Nibelungen turned south. Now, on the shore of Chiemsee, a Bavarian lake, they'd halted again. This time we'd caught them.

"What's the plan?" Richard asked.

I offered him the binoculars. "Appears to be just troops and weapons right now. They probably want to set up on the far side before transporting the artifacts."

"Less for us to deal with," Peter whispered.

I nodded. "Agreed. The weapons and the cauldron are most likely in the truck parked closest to the centre."

"Look to have a nest setup in that old house to the west," Richard said. "Someone there just lit a match."

"We should expect another one on the eastern side as well," I said. "I'll have Audrey take a look."

"I'll see what they have," came a voice to my left.

I spun, my hand instinctively moving to my pistol before I recognized Audrey's voice. Heart thumping, I released a breath. The shadows beside me appeared to pool somewhat, as if cast by some non-existent tree. Squinting, I could just make out the knight's translucent, crouched form.

"Jesus Christ," Peter growled. "You scared the hell out of me."

"You should be used to it by now," she said unsympathetically. "I found a soldier patrolling our way. With luck, they won't realize he's gone until it's too late."

"Good work," I said. Previous attempts at interrogation had proven useless. Himmler had fashioned the SS into a zealot cult — a perverse Teutonic Order. As the mythological beings they'd been named after, the Nibelungen protected a great treasure. They'd happily die before betraying the cause.

"I'll scout around and find the best point of attack," Audrey said. "How long do I have?"

"Make it fast."

She was gone without a word. The faint crunching of boots on grass was the only sign of her passing.

"I can't believe we've almost got them," Richard said.

Peter grunted. "Don't count your chickens. Any sign of those kesselgeburten bastards?"

I shook my head. "Two of the trucks are reinforced. Possibly those. I doubt the Nazis trust them enough to simply let them wander around."

Countless hours hiding and waiting for nightfall had afforded us ample time to read the captured documents. The cauldron was the first half of the Nazis' hideous plan to create an immortal army. Crafted from ten kilos of solid gold, and inscribed with Celtic spells, it served as some blasphemous Holy Grail. The silver skull rings of the Reich's chosen warriors served as the second half. Upon the wearer's death, they trapped the life essence. The ceremony for the resurrection had been incinerated when we'd burned the truck, and I didn't mourn its loss. The Nazis had used the rings to resurrect their fallen by drowning prisoners in the cauldron filled with human blood. Evidently they hadn't expected them to transform into monsters.

Savage and incapable of speech, the creatures served the Nazis, as they were the only ones who could make more of them. Even then, the beasts were prone to violent outbursts and had killed several of their makers. Afraid of their new super-army, the Nazis armed themselves with silver weapons. Silver being the element of their binding, it could also bring their death. Upon learning the true nature of the nine thousand Totenfomphrings, we'd promptly cut each of them in half, rendering them useless.

Our mission objectives had changed. In addition to retrieving the plundered holy weapons, we had to either capture or destroy that golden abomination.

"Everyone, take one of these." Dennis held out a pair of potato masher grenades, their heads wrapped in gauze.

"What is this?" I squeezed the end, feeling metal shifting beneath the tight binding.

"Little somethin' I made up while waitin' for you to get back from scoutin'. Took some of those cut rings and wrapped 'em up. Recon if more of those big bastards come out, silver shrapnel might ruin their evenin'."

My brow rose. "Very clever."

He timidly shrugged his massive shoulders. "Well, let's hope they work."

"Let's hope we won't need them," Audrey said, tucking one into her belt. She wore two more grenades of the regular variety.

"Are we clear on the plan?" I asked.

"I still say I should take the nest," Peter grumbled.

"Non-negotiable," I said, keeping my voice even.

Richard's eyes dropped away. At least he knew better than to argue.

Peter gave a curt nod. "Understood."

"Good," I said. "Let's have at it. We haven't much time."

Audrey turned and hurried away. She drew Rowlind and ribbons of night wrapped around her. Staying low, the rest of us circled around, exiting the grove of trees and making our way through the cratered field.

Artillery thundered off in the distance. The Americans were close and the Nazis would be alert. Taking point, I crawled to the edge of a grassy berm and lifted my binoculars.

The dome tops of helmets peeked above the low, makeshift wall of a machine gun nest. Scanning further up the line, I let out a curse. A pair of giant, forms moved along the shore, loading boxes into a boat. Checking the truck, I saw that more crates were still being unloaded. There was no way to determine from here which one might contain the weapons.

Make it fast, Audrey.

A single soldier stood in the shadows outside one of the trucks, fidgeting with something in his hands. Audrey appeared behind him and hacked his neck. The man crumpled without a sound and she was again gone. A second sentry, further down the line, fell shortly after.

Minutes crawled. The distant shells thundered faster, the raging battle still miles away but creeping ever closer, unstoppable like a glacier. Three more boxes were loaded. The bright lanterns and beams of headlights meant Audrey couldn't enter the area without notice. The nests had to be eliminated first. I focused my attention to the darkened house on the far side.

Finally, I breathed a relieved sigh as a match lit in one of the windows and moved left to right before extinguishing.

"It's done," I hissed, motioning my arm. "Move!"

Peter hurried up beside me as Richard and Dennis quickly crawled across the open road separating us from the rear of the gun nest.

Giving Peter a silent nod, we moved in a crouch toward the wall of parked trucks.

A loud voice shouted, "Zwei weitere kisten. Schnell!"

We reached the first truck. The sharp stink of urine rose from between the mud-caked tires. It appeared I'd found the latrine. Wrinkling my nose, I braved a peek back toward the nest to see Richard and Dennis slip inside, weapons out. Ten seconds later a helmeted shape rose and moved the MG42 around.

"They're in position." I drew my sword and moved around to the rear of the vehicle. I glanced inside the canopied back, verifying it was empty before creeping between it and the neighboring truck. As I'd thought, half the company had already relocated across the lake, leaving thirty or so men. Four of the giant monsters lumbered through the ranks, towering above young soldiers. I motioned to Peter to move forward when shouting erupted somewhere behind us.

"Eindringlinge! Eindringlinge!"

Bloody hell! Someone had found one of Audrey's victims.

Seizing the moment of surprise, Richard opened fire. The machinegun roared like a buzz saw, tearing through the ranks. Soldiers dove for cover, scrambling behind anything they could find. Their backs now exposed to the darkened house, Audrey opened fire from a second floor window, tracers streaking down.

Roaring, one of the beasts hurled a wooden box at Richard and Dennis' nest. The crate shattered beside the foxhole and a stream of machinegun fire tore into the creature. The non-silver rounds only seemed to slow its charge. A grenade landed in its path. The explosion sent the creature tumbling. Dennis' silver-loaded rifle flashed beside the machinegun's blazing flare.

Tearing my eyes from the chaos, I dove into the first truck and began searching. Peter raced off to check the vehicles on the far side, leaving me alone. Inspection done, I dropped a grenade into the cab and hurried away. Come Hell or high water, the Nazis weren't escaping this time.

The easy targets gone, Richard focused his gun at the lights, shattering them with short bursts. Peter hurled a grenade at a pair of soldiers maneuvering toward the house. Audrey's shooting had already ceased, her job to fire the gun dry and then move once the lights were mostly gone.

One by one I scoured the outer trucks, slashing open bags and flipping back lids, praying to find the weapons. A soldier rounded the corner as I exited a vehicle and I plunged two feet of blessed steel through his chest.

Twin blasts exploded inside the house. I only prayed Audrey was clear of them.

Howls bellowed as three more monsters smashed from the side of a locked truck. Purple lightning crackled and two beasts died before they'd made it fifteen feet.

I'd almost completed checking the trucks when a boat engine roared to life. I rushed out to see it starting across the water. Firelight glinted off an enormous gold bowl at the bow.

Richard swiveled the gun toward the vessel but a barrage of German fire forced him down. A potato masher twirled through the air, landing in his foxhole. My stomach lurched, but the bomb flipped back out before exploding, sending gravel and flames into the air.

Crouching behind a car, one of the hulking beasts charged, pushing the vehicle across the beach toward the foxhole. Richard opened fire, as did Dennis with his rifle, but the bullets only pummeled the sliding shield. More suppressive fire forced them down as the car charged their position like a train engine.

I leveled my gun at a pair of the shooters, killing one and forcing the other to scramble away. I stopped firing as Audrey appeared and slashed him open before vanishing into the shadows.

"The boat!" I screamed, firing ineffectually at it.

More grenades exploded, drowning my words. With a howl, the monster pushed the mangled vehicle up the low wall and down into the foxhole with a crash. Trusting the knights made it out in time, I charged the shore, firing at the fleeing boat.

Lighting flashed, momentarily blinding me. Breaking his cover, Peter raced across the open beach, Glisuan in hand. He launched another bolt out across the water. Electricity danced along the surface. Orange flares of gunfire flashed from the boat.

"Peter, get down!" I shouted.

Bullets whizzed around him. Peter stumbled, but continued on, heedless of the danger.

I returned fire, but through the choking smoke and darkness I couldn't see where I was hitting. Stubborn bastard.

With a defiant scream, Peter hurled another bolt across the water. A fuel tank exploded, launching flames into the sky. A burning man tumbled over the side. Clutching his stomach, Peter turned toward me, a triumphant smile on the American's face. Machinegun fire tore through his chest, sending him down in a spray of blood.

"Peter!" I screamed. I spun to see a young soldier, no more than sixteen leaning out from behind a boulder, rifle in hand.

I fired.

My shots struck the rock, sending him back for cover. Anger boiling, I ran for a better position. Reaching the central truck, I spied the killer's leg peeking from behind the large stone. I crouched to take aim, but leaped back as a crate flew out from the vehicle, missing me by inches. It smashed on the ground, spilling clinking sacks. I whirled as one of the great pale beasts dove toward me. SS runes adorned its thick breastplate and armored shoulders.

Slashing my rapier, I spun and leaped aside. The monster growled, white froth dripping from the corners of its mouth. It swiped its huge arms at me, its hooked claws a blur. I hopped back and then lunged. The indirect blow glanced off its armor, leaving a deep scratch.

The beast charged for me, claws arcing toward my face. Ducking and springing away, I slashed the monster's calf as it passed. The creature bellowed in pain as it fell to its knee. Twisting its body, it swiped again and I whipped the rapier around, lopping off its claw at the wrist. Blood splattered my cheek and the beast fell.

Turning back to the hidden soldier, I saw Audrey standing above him, bloodied sword in her hand. In an instant, she was gone. Dozens of dead and dying littered the rocky beach and smoke choked the air. Another grenade exploded, igniting one of the trucks. Dennis popped up from behind a dead beast and shot a charging soldier. He ducked as return fire pulped the grotesque corpse.

I dove into the open truck beside me. It reeked like a pig sty. Five crates rested against the back, the SS rune stenciled across their sides. Strange books, and what appeared to be Egyptian figurines, filled the first one. Pushing it aside, I opened the next. I recoiled at the rows of embalmed human hands, tattooed and packed like sardines. I shoved the box away, spilling them across the floor.

A burst of gunfire barked outside.

Please be here, I prayed throwing back the next lid. A golden scepter rested inside, an outstretched eagle as its head. Ignoring the fortune, I hurled the box off the stack and opened the next.

Two swords, an iron spear head, and an elaborate war pick rested inside, cradled in straw and cut-out supports. I blew a relieved sigh, my fingers touching Lukrasus, the sword plundered during the Polish blitz. The sacred weapons were all that stood between humanity and annihilation. They were safe.

A man's choked scream sounded outside.

Not safe yet. I closed the hinged lid and heaved the heavy box out, holding it by the rope-loop handles. Outside was eerily still. I peered around, seeing no one. A smattering of burning debris floated atop the water — all that remained of the sunken boat.

"Did you find them?" Audrey appeared from the shadows.

"Here."

She hurried toward me.

Peter's axe hung from her belt. There was no need to ask his condition. "Richard and Dennis?"

Audrey took the other side of the box and I hopped down. She nodded toward the line of trucks, most of them on fire. The huge knight hobbled through the smoke, practically carrying Richard with one arm. The smaller knight's face was scrunched in pain.

No! I cursed myself for even bringing him on this mission.

"He took a bad cut to the abdomen," she said as we hurried toward them. "I'll patch them up once we're out."

Trying not to think of his injury or of our fallen knight, I focused only on escape. We made our way the half mile to where our automobile was hidden in the shell of a stable.

Richard's face was ashen as we loaded him inside. "Really… gave 'em Hell… didn't we?" He smiled weakly.

"That we did." I brushed the grit from face to hide my concern. We still needed to slip past the American line, change vehicles, and get back to France.

Audrey climbed in beside him, clutching an olive-coloured med kit.

"The cauldron?" Richard asked.

I glanced in the direction of Chiemsee Lake. "It's gone. No one will ever see that abomination again."

He nodded, seeming satisfied. "Then it was worth it."

Smiling to him, I shut the door. I only wished I could believe my own assurances.