The soldier to the left, the one with the crimson brocade piping on his uniform, had a thick shock of light brown hair, and long sideburns. He had a slightly sleepy look on his face, half closed eyelids obscuring his light blue eyes. He leaned back in his chair, with one leg stretched out and the other crossed over it.

“I’m telling you, sister dear, we’ve made the right decision,” he said. “Birmisia is the promised land. There are riches there, just waiting for someone to go out and pick them up. No one is there yet. Mallontah is thriving, but it’s thousands of miles away. We’ll have to build our own infrastructure.”

“What do you know about infrastructure, Augie?” said the woman.

“I know you need it.”

The soldier to the right, the one with no crimson brocade piping on his uniform, was older, his darker brown hair showing the first bits of grey at the temples. He, like the woman, sat rigidly in his seat, though Senta doubted that in his case this was necessitated by a tightly laced and rigid corset. His features spoke of his family connection as well as the other soldier’s words had.   His dark blue eyes looked kind—kind but sad.

“So we aren’t considering Cartonia?” he asked.

“Cartonia was never a serious consideration,” the woman replied. “It was simply obfuscation.”

“Well, you had better be sure,” he said.

“I am sure. I’ve used every ounce of influence the family has, to set this up.”

“I’m sure too,” said the younger soldier. He and the woman both looked at their older brother.

“All right,” he said.

Senta didn’t hear any more of the conversation. She had moved far enough along, as she cleaned the wrought iron railing, that the conversations of other patrons, though to her mind far less interesting, obscured that of the woman and her two soldier brothers. There was also the noise of the street. So the eight year old girl continued scrubbing, now with nothing as exciting as the far away lands of Cartonia and Birmisia to occupy her. Soon enough she was finished cleaning the railing, and returned once again to the janitorial closet in the back of the building, where she exchanged her bucket of soot-filled water and scrub brush, for a clean cloth and a small jar of polish.

Her last job of the day was to polish the brass dragon at the entrance to Café Carlo. It was about three feet long, including its serpentine tail, and about four feet wide, its wings outstretched. It sat on a stone plinth, so that it could just about look Senta in the face. She didn’t know for sure, but it always seemed to her that the brass dragon was very old. She was sure that it had been sitting here in this very same spot long before Café Carlo was here. It might have even been here before the plaza. Maybe before the great city was even here. Senta polished the entire body, head, tail, and wings of the dragon, taking great care to get the creamy abstergent worked into every nook and cranny. Taking care of the dragon was by far her favorite part of her job. When she was done, she returned the supplies to the janitorial closet and went back around to the front to wait for Carlo. She was careful to stand in a corner, out of the way of any patrons, and clear of the path of the waitresses.

She had to wait several minutes for Carlo to notice her. He was busy delivering sandwiches to the two soldiers who sat with the woman in the white pinstriped dress. Not cucumber sandwiches on white bread. Their sandwiches were thick slices of dark bread, piled high with slab after slab of ham. This was no surprise to Senta. Soldiers were always hungry. She had seen them eating many times: the officers here at Café Carlo, and the common soldiers purchasing food from vendors near the park, or at the beanery in her own neighborhood. At last, Carlo noticed her and held out his hand to her, dropping her fourteen copper pfennigs for the week into her callused palm. They were small coins, with the profile of the King on the obverse side, and the front of a stately building, Senta didn’t know which building, on the reverse side. She stuffed the coins, a few fairly bright, but most well worn, into her pocket.

“See Gyula,” said Carlo.

A surprised Senta nodded and scurried back to the kitchen. This was an unexpected boon. Gyula was the junior of the two line cooks, which meant that he was the lowest ranked of the four people who prepared the food in the café. An order to see him was an indication that she was being rewarded with foodstuffs of some kind. When she entered the kitchen, Gyula looked up from his chopping and smiled. He was a young man, in his mid twenties, with a friendly round face, blond hair, and laughing eyes. He was chopping a very large pile of onions, and the fact that he had only his left hand to do it, seemed to hinder him not at all. When Gyula was a child, about the same age as Senta was now, he had worked in a textile mill, where his job was to stick his tiny arm into the gaps in the great machines and remove wads of textiles that had gummed up the works. In his case, as in many others, the restarting machine proved quicker than his reflexes, and snipped off his arm just below the elbow.

“Hey Senta!” said Gyula, setting down his knife and wiping his left hand on his white apron.

“Carlo sent me back.”

“Excellent,” said Gyula.

He became a one-handed whirlwind, as he carved several pieces of dark bread from a big loaf, and piled an inch of sliced ham, slathered with dark, brown mustard between them. He wrapped the great sandwich, which Senta happily noted was even bigger than those the soldiers had received, in wax paper. He likewise wrapped a monstrous dill pickle, and placed both in the center of a large, clean, red, plaid cloth; folding in the four corners, and tying them in a bow, to make a bindle. Gyula handed the package to Senta, smiling. When he had the opportunity, the young line cook favored Senta with great, heaping bounties of food, but he dared not do it without Carlo’s permission. It wouldn’t be easy for a one-armed man to find a job this good, and no one in his right mind, however kind-hearted and happy-go-lucky he was, would endanger it for a child he didn’t really even know.

“Thank you, Gyula,” said Senta, and grabbing the red, plaid bundle, scurried out the door and down the sidewalk.

A young soldier burst into the tent, running into the back of Miss Hertling, and knocking her forward. She would have fallen completely to the floor had not Professor Calliere caught her.

“Kafira’s eyes!” snapped Iolanthe. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“Sorry Ma’am,” said the soldier, nervously. “Sergeant Clark’s compliments, Ma’am. There is a large force of lizardmen approaching from the southeast. The sergeant has already called for all troops to man the ramparts. And the lizardmen have rifles, Ma’am.”

“Where the hell did they get rifles?” wondered Calliere.

“From our troops,” said Iolanthe, gravely. “How many lizardmen are there?”

“We don’t know, at least a thousand.”

“Tell the sergeant to hold the wall,” she ordered. The soldier then ran out of the tent. Turning to the women, she said. “Thirty five men aren’t going to hold the wall for long. Get everyone moving. We’re evacuating out to the end of the peninsula.”

“What are we going to do there?” asked Dr. Kelloran.

“We’re going to make our stand. Zeah, get some of the men and distribute as many guns and as much ammunition as we have. Go. Mercy, come with me.”

Iolanthe stepped out of the tent and marched purposefully toward the wall. Professor Calliere followed along behind her. When she reached the wall, she gathered up her dress and extensive petticoats into her left arm and used her right to climb up the ladder to the walkway that served as a firing platform twenty feet off the ground. Sergeant Clark was there.

“Where are they?” she asked, panting for breath and peering out of a firing port.

“Still mostly in the trees, but they’re out there.”

“And your men?”

“I’ve got them spread out fifty feet apart, but that means we’ve only got a fifth of the wall covered.”

“I can do the math,” she snapped. “You aren’t going to fight them from here. Just make them think you are. I want you to keep them cautious long enough for the colonists to get out onto the peninsula. Send four men to break the machine guns out of storage and set them up at that bottleneck four hundred yards north of the dock. That’s the only place we have a hope of holding them off.

“Mercy, you know the place, don’t you?”

Calliere nodded.

“Good. You supervise. Get those machine guns set up.”

Calliere nodded again and rushed back down the ladder. Sergeant Clark called four men and ordered them to follow the professor. Iolanthe turned back to the soldier.

“I’ll send word to you when to fall back,” she said. “Remember Clark. You cannot fall back until those colonists are out near the coast. If those tribesmen get past our trap, it will be a bloodbath.”

Crossing the great grassland, Terrence could see a line of rolling hills on the far side. It was only after they had marched through the waist tall grass for more than an hour however, when the hills revealed one of the greatest sights that he or any of the soldiers had ever seen. Framed between two closer hills and sitting atop the larger, rockier promontory behind, was a city. Even from a distance of many miles, it was easy to see that this city was something spectacular. Huge gleaming white pyramids rose from its center and giant walls surrounded it, as if keeping it from flowing down the sides of the hill. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands of houses and other buildings were contained within its confines.

“I didn’t think they were capable of anything like this,” said Augie, obviously speaking of the lizardmen.

Without thinking, Terrence had stopped to stare at the magnificent sight. He didn’t say anything, but he hadn’t been aware that the reptilians were capable of anything along this line either. The other soldiers moved up and formed a group, rather than a line. All stared in rapt fascination and open astonishment at a city that might very well have rivaled Brech in size.

“Dechantagne,” said Wizard Labrith, pointing.

Terrence followed his gaze and saw spread out across the savannah, a line of lizardmen. They were so well camouflaged that they blended right into the rising landscape behind them. They stretched out to the left and the right so far that they created a half circle around the humans, and this at a distance of more than a mile. Many of the lizardmen were painted red and white and black, and most wore feathers. Most also carried the swords, made of wood and flint, that the men had seen before.

“Kafira,” said one of the soldiers. “There must be a thousand of them.”

“More like five thousand,” said Labrith.

“Talk to them,” said Terrence to Augie, indicating the two lizardmen with them. “Find out if these are our friends or the enemies.”

Augie hissed. Sarkkik hissed back. Augie translated.

“We know of your people. Though it is far away, we know of your people living in Mallontah. We know how they have enslaved the natives there. We know you intend to do this here. We have shown you to Suusthek.”

“What does that mean?” asked Terrence. “We have shown you to Suusthek.”

“Oh, sorry. My mistake,” said Augie. “Not ‘show’. It’s ‘delivered’. ‘We have delivered you to Suusthek’. Oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

“We have dealt with you in good faith,” said Terrence.

“Your blood runs warm. You cannot be trusted. We have heard your talk. Szuss can hear your speech. He hears how you want to rule the land.”

“Bugger!” shouted Terrence.

Sarkkik hissed again.

“He says ‘now you die’,” translated Augie.

Terrence turned around and walked two steps then turned around again. Then he pulled out his forty-five revolver and shot Sarkkik in the head. It seemed as if the reptilian would fall backwards for a moment, but this was prevented by his tail. He rocked back, then from one side to the other, and then collapsed in a heap. Before Sarkkik had hit the ground, Terrence had fired a second time, and Szuss had a hole through his skull as well. He fell forward onto his alligator-like face.

More than a mile away, a deep rumbling sound rose up. It was a low gurgling, growling noise. It came from the massive army of lizardmen and it grew louder and louder as five thousand warriors joined in.

“Formation!” shouted Augie. “Get into formation!”

The soldiers rushed to form two lines, one behind the other, ninety men wide. The formation looked pathetically small compared to the line of reptilians that dominated the landscape.

“First rank, kneeling positions!”

The front row of soldiers knelt. The rear row stayed standing.

“Fix bayonets!”

Each soldier pulled a wicked looking dagger from a sheath on his belt and attached the six and three quarter inch blade to the end of his rifle.

The throaty sound of the lizardmen continued for several minutes. Suddenly and seemingly without a signal, it stopped. Then like a wave moving from the ocean onto the beach, the lizards surged forward. They moved quickly, at a sort of slithering trot, brandishing their stone-encrusted swords as they came. And they were silent—eerily silent.

“Ready!” called Augie. “Aim!”

“Fire!”

The one hundred eighty soldiers fired their rifles in unison and more than a hundred reptiles fell to the ground. The hole created in their moving line quickly filled in with others of their kind, and kept moving forward.

“Ready! Aim! Fire!”

The soldiers fired again, and another hundred reptile warriors fell. Running headlong into thundering death, the lizardmen directly in front of the humans began to falter, while to either side, they surged forward. Terrence had holstered his pistol and pulled the thirty caliber rifle from his shoulder.

“Uuthanum rechthinov uluchaiia,” said Labrith, and a lightning bolt, beginning at his fingertip, spread out shooting through the bodies of a dozen reptile warriors.

“Fire at will!” shouted Augie. The soldiers began to pick their own targets.

“Watch your flanks!” he shouted. Fanning out slightly on either side, the humans began firing on the lizardmen coming in from the sides.

“Uuthanum beithbechnoth,” said Labrith, and a missile of magical energy darted from his fingertip, striking one of the lizards square in the chest, killing him. A half second later a second magical dart shot forth, and then a third.

Seconds later similar magic missiles shot from the lizardmen’s lines, hitting two of the soldiers. Terrence aimed his rifle in the direction from which they had come. The reptiles had their own magic user. He was easy to spot too. Unlike the others whose greenish skin was painted black or red, he was covered in blue. Terrence shot him through the throat.

Suddenly the lizardmen stopped coming and dropped down into the tall grass. So sudden and so well-coordinated was the move that it seemed that they had just vanished into thin air.

“Hold your fire!” shouted Augie. “Are they crawling? Watch the grass!”

The men kept watch where the lizardmen had disappeared, but it was as though they had never been there at all. Suddenly on either side of the humans, dozens of reptilian warriors stood up. Still more than fifty yards away, they heaved short spears using spear-throwers. These devices were shafts with a handle at one end and a spur at the other against which the butt of the spears rested. The spears flew high into the air and then down onto the human soldiers. Six men were hit in the chest or the head and fell to the ground silently. One was hit in the shoulder and one in the stomach, and both of these fell to the ground screaming. Several of the humans fired in return, but the lizardmen had dropped to the ground immediately after launching their missiles.

“Steady!” cried Augie. “Shoot when they show their heads!”

“Prestus Uuthanum,” said Labrith.

Several dozen more reptile warriors on either side of the humans and eight or ten in front of them stood up and launched their spears. This time almost half of them were killed either before or after they were able to cast their projectiles. Half a dozen of the spears that were thrown bounced off an invisible shield in the air above the soldiers, but five more men were hit. This savage and deadly game continued as again and again, lizardmen stood to launch spears on their clever little spear throwing sticks and the humans attempted to shoot them with their rifles before they could do so, though sometimes settling for shooting them afterwards.

Terrence heard Labrith casting other spells, though he didn’t see what effect they had. He was busy dealing death with his rifle and was inwardly pleased with the knowledge that so far at least, every bullet he had fired, had met its mark. Though they were causing far more casualties than they were taking, it was a nerve-wracking business, and some of the men were beginning to grouse and swear.

“Steady men,” said Augie. “If we break, they’ll pick us off. Stand fast.”

The lizardmen to the right jumped up—not a few dozen spear throwers, but hundreds rushing forward with swords. The humans began rapidly picking them off, pumping new shells into the chambers as fast as they could fire. The lizardmen advanced, but at a cost of several hundred. Suddenly they dropped back into the grass.

“Watch your other side!” called Augie.

“That was a test,” said Labrith. “They’re testing our firepower.”

“Kafira. We must have killed nearly a thousand already,” said Augie.

“That only leaves four thousand to go,” said Terrence, looking at the bodies of more than forty of his men, dead or dying.

The spears flew into the air again, this time in even greater number than before. Ten more men fell. Next to him, Terrence heard Labrith scream and saw him fall to the ground. One of the spears had pierced his right kneecap and was sticking about sixteen inches out the backside of his leg.

The lizardmen to the left jumped up and ran forward, just as those on the opposite side had done before. This time fewer were shot as there were both fewer humans left to fire and they were less ready than before, despite having experienced the previous rush. And just as before, the reptiles dropped back down into the tall grass.

“Ready men!” shouted Augie. “Watch for the spear throwers!”