"Incoming dragons!" A warning cry came from the lines and winged serpentine shapes could be seen in the skies coming up in support of the Imperial attack columns.
"HQ! We got inbound dragons!" A Marine radioman yelled his report over the din of firing guns. "Requesting immediate air support! Repeat we need AA support now!"
As the dragons drew closer, some of the machine gun teams switch their attention to swatting the big lizards off the sky as they came swooping down.
"Take cover!" The Marines ducked and hid under overhead protection of the trenches when over a dozen med weight dragons dive bombed their section of the trenches, lobbing flasks of alchemical fire down as they flew over.
Some of the more daring Marines remained on the open trenches and fired at the underbellies of the swooping dragons while crying out profanities at the Imperials.
The alchemical fire potions made with a mixture of arcane materials burst into flames upon breaking on the surface. Most landed off target, but a few managed to land right on top of the trenches, causing burns to anyone unfortunate enough to be near it.
White hot tracers chased after the dragons, and a couple of the dragons cried out in pain as the bullets punched into their underbellies and ripped holes in their wings.
The injured dragons slammed into the ground as they failed to pull up from their dive, plowing deep crevice on the earth cutting a trench line directly, creating a breach in the defenses.
The remaining dragons swooped back and instead kept at a safe distance from above for their crews to throw their firebombs which accuracy was greatly diminished.
The attacking Imperial columns having the gunfire slackened against their magical barriers took the opportunity to advance, the soldiers threw their shields over the barb wires to create a path and charged.
Suddenly, the entire front of the trenches erupted into flames and smoke as claymore mines were set off. The thousands and thousands of deadly ball bearings whiplashed into the Imperials. The sudden damage against the magical barriers, overloaded the mages maintaining them and they felt down, convulsing from the backlash of mana burn.
The Imperials suddenly without the aid of their magical barrier recoiled back from the gunfire slamming into their ranks. Yet they still gathered their courage and charged directly at the unseen enemy.
Moel sat on his mount and watched the attack with a frown on his face. The Land Barons' forces had performed beyond his expectations. He was only expecting them to weaken their levels of mana before the Rock commits his forces.
Now, maybe he might not need the Rock's assistance after all. Moel thought to himself with a small smile. Once the attack was successful without the help of the Black Scorpions, he will be able to claim all credit!
"Send in the second wave!" Moel ordered. "We will break through the enemy line and on to the city by nightfall!"
"Lord Rock!" Moel smiled at the Black Scorpion Legion commander. "I think we might not need the services of your Bronze men after all!"
The Rock remained quiet as he watched the battle occurring in the distance while Moel gloated over his easy victory.
The second wave of Imperials were Moel's own men, while the first wave consisted of soldiers from the Barons. Several wheeled catapults were rolled forward by teams of toiling slaves while soldiers loaded jars of alchemist fire.
"Kill them! Kill them all!" Moel roared.
Mills cursed as a wave of super heated air blew right towards him and made him remember that he once had gotten badly injured by a fireball spell. He cursed at the dragons in the air and turned to his radioman, yelling, "What the fuck is our AA support?"
"HQ says, ten minutes at least!" The radioman yelled back.
"FUCK!" Mills swore again before he stood up at the firing steps of the trench and emptied his weapon in anger at the approaching Imperial soldiers. "Order the MGs to ignore the damn dragons! Aim for the infantry!"
"Yes, Sarge!" The radioman started fiddling with his radio set relay orders to the MG nests.
Mils reloaded and popped up from his crouch position and fired at an Imperial who had a thick mob of filthy beard. The Imperial soldier fell back clutching his chest and another took his place. "Why are we always fucking outnumbered! Can we outnumber the fuckers for once?"
The enemy troops had reached the fifty meter mark and most of them were sheltering behind the bodies of the fallen as anyone that tried to advance without any magical protection, were shot down without mercy from the Marines.
"Sarge! More enemy reinforcements!" The radioman yelled out. "HQ sent word that we got another mass of infantry coming our way!"
"What the fuck?" Mills cursed. "Tell HQ I want all artillery and air support on our sector now!"
"HQ says artillery are being tasked for another mission and air support is engaging the dragons!" The radioman reported after a while. "We got no support!"
"Fuck!" Mills cursed again. "Tell everyone to ready our secret weapon when they breach the last line of claymores!"
"Yes, Sarge!" The radioman ran off to relay the message down the line.
Mills returned to fire his rifle at the Imperial scattered before the defense lines, unable to make any more progress forward without dying. He could see a carpet of bodies that stretched all the way to the forest.
And at the edge of the forest, he could see another half dozen columns of Imperial troops marching forward under the cover the rainbow hue dome of magical protection.
"Why the fuck we don't have such shit?" Mills asked to no one in particular. "Why can't we have magic protection too!"
"Fucking cheaters!" Mills cursed and ordered, "I need four runners! Go grab more ammo and water over and everyone drink up! It's gonna be a long hot day today!"
He glanced up to the skies as he heard the drone of aircraft engines. Soon their anti air support came in and laid waste to the flying Imperial dragons which scrambled madly away from the deadly machines.
Mills felt better when he saw the sky raining dragon bodies and he even broke into a smile when he saw one of the bodies of the dragon crashlanding onto a pile of Imperials taking cover behind the dead.
Suddenly a massive ball of fire rosed up from the side and Mills flinched back in surprise. He quickly regained his wits and yelled at his confused men. "Keep firing!"
"What the fuck is that?" Mills asked the radioman who listened to the reports coming in from the command net.
"Siege weapons!" The radioman replied. "Imperial catapults!"
"Fuck? How much more shit they are throwing at us!" Mills grabbed his binoculars and searched the battlefield for the enemy catapults. After a while, he spotted the wooden frame of a catapult at the rear, "Tell the Airforce, I want them to destroy those catapults!"
"On it, Sarge!" The radioman switch frequency and hailed the Cobras overhead. "Angel Flight, Angel Flight, this is Falcon Alpha Two! Request airstrike on enemy catapults. Grid Two Four Two Three Niner Two Zero One Niner! How copy, roger?"
"Roger that, Falcon Alpha Two, standby for gun run! Two mikes, out!"
"Two minutes, Sarge!" The radioman informed Mills who nodded.
The ground shook again as another ball of fire rose up among the defenses and cries of medic could be heard.
Mills returned to watching the catapults in the distance, "Damn, that shit has a range of over six hundred meters!"
He watched the easily identified slaves pull the ropes to arm the catapults while others hoisted a large jar like object onto the firing cup.
The catapult's arm suddenly flung the jar up high and Mills followed the trajectory of the black jar in the air and he cursed. "SHIT! INCOMING! TAKE COVER!"
The jar of alchemical fire smashed against the ground just before the trench line and the highly flammable substance burst out before igniting into flames. A couple of Marines hiding behind the trench screamed as superheated air and flames rolled over them.
Mills stood back up and saw a trio of Cobras coming down in a swoop with their guns blazing and almost immediately, the catapults parked at the forest edge erupted into flames as the guns of the planes blew the jars of alchemical fire up.
"Fuck yea!" Mills cheered with the rest of the Marines as they saw the catapults go up in flames and smoke. "Alright! Get the wounded back! The rest keep killing those Blue bastards!"
The second wave of Imperial attack columns managed shrugged off the punishing fire of guns as they crossed over the barb wires flattened by the shields dropped by the first wave.
Suddenly, the Imperials lobbed flasks from behind their magical barriers and thick black smoke erupted before the Marines' lines, obstructing their view.
"Fuck me! A smokescreen!" Mills cried out in surprise. "Use the flamers now!"
The Marines hearing Mills's order grabbed the flamers kept in the bunkers and aimed the nozzles out towards the evil looking smoke at their doorsteps. "BURN THEM!"
The flamethrower armed Marines squeezed the triggers, spewing out a liquid fuel mixture before igniting the sparker which ignited the liquid fuel.
Instantly the front line burst into flames as several flamers swept their dragon breath like flames left and right and screams echoed out from beyond the smokescreen.
Moel grew more agitated as he watched his siege weapons burning away and a great deal of his alchemical fire supplies had been destroyed by those cursed flying creatures.
Now, with the thick smoke blocking his view of the action on the battlefield, he has no clue how has the attack fared. He could briefly hear screams coming from the distance and consoled himself that those were the dying screams of his enemies!
Suddenly, he saw figures appearing out from the smoke and more and more followed behind. He then realized that those were his men and they were retreating in a panic!
"What are you all doing?" He roared angrily at the running men. "Attack! Anyone who dares take another step back, dies!"
His men too gone in fear, ignored him and kept running. Infultered, Moel drew his sword and slashed down at the nearest runners.
His action made the rest avoid him as they sought to escape the hell they had entered.
"My Lord!" One of his loyal commanders rode up next to Moel. "We... we had to retreat!"
"What?" Moel's eyes turned red as he glared at his man. "Cowards! You dare run from the enemy?"
"My Lord!" The commander jumped down from his mount and dropped to his knees. "The enemy has a terrible spell that destroyed all that came close! We can't advance!"
"What?" Moel's eyes widened as he heard his commander's explanation. "What spell?"
"Dragon's Breath!" The commander replied. "We ordered the retreat to not lose any more men to that spell!"
"How... how did they have such a high level spell?" Moel frowned. "But that does not excuse your retreat! They the most could only cast it once!"
"No my Lord," The commander trembled as he recalled the incidents. "They have more than one Dragon's Breath spell!"
"What?" Moel was frightened. A Dragon's Breath spell was rated as high as a Level 8. Its destructive abilities were greater than what their current heavy weight could ever wreak as they bloodlines were not as powerful as the ancient dragons.
And these rebels not only gotten a Heritage of the Gods that gave them such powerful thunder spells but also Dragon's Breath? What on else do they possess? Is what Titanna telling him about the power of these barbaric rebels true?
"Did I bite off more than I can chew?" Moel whispered to himself as he watched his scattered troops retreating in fear and countless wounded being helped by their comrades.
"No! This war must end in my favor!"