Chapter 138: Fire in the Pass
The freezing wind howled through the ravine’s cliffs. Hidden in the tree line on both sides of the path, the twelve young apprentices waited in silence with their muskets ready.
In the center of the trail, more than thirty men led by Mark advanced at a hurried pace with heavy axes and swords.
"Secure the carts!" said Mark, raising his axe as they surrounded the vehicles. "Where are those damn blacksmiths? Search the brush!"
Hidden behind a pine tree, Thorín waited for the rebel vanguard to be exposed.
"Now!" said Thorín.
The twelve apprentices stepped out and aimed at the dark figures.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A thunderous discharge lit up the pass. The lead bullets tore through chainmail, wooden shields, and heavy furs. Seven of Mark’s men hit the ground screaming as blood stained the snow crimson.
"Damn it! They were waiting for us!" said one of the former nobles, stepping back in terror at the smoking hole in his comrade’s chest.
"Hold the line! Reload!" said Lennis from the shadows.
Without losing a second, the apprentices knelt. They poured the powder, dropped the bullet, rammed the charge, and primed the pan. In just thirty-five seconds, twelve iron muzzles were aimed at the rebels once more.
"Do not stop! They are just boys!" said Mark, charging forward with his face splattered with blood. "If we get close, they won’t be able to defend themselves!"
A second volley echoed through the ravine, dropping five more rebels dead in their tracks. The impacts shattered heads and limbs, spreading the panic. Several of the former nobles threw down their weapons and turned to run back down the pass.
"Cowards! Hold the line or I’ll kill you myself!" said Mark, grabbing one of the fleeing men by the collar and shoving him forward with a strike.
Gritting their teeth, the survivors made a desperate charge into the brush to crush the apprentices. However, just as they reached the tree line, the four veteran hunters leaped from the shadows with their heavy axes.
Thorín spun on his heels and severed the lead rebel’s head in a single swing, sending it rolling across the snow. Beside him, another hunter sliced open a traitor’s torso, cutting another’s femoral artery to leave him bleeding out on the ground. The four veterans’ sheer brutality halted the charge cold, buying the exact time the apprentices needed to cock their weapons.
"Aim! Fire!" said Lennis.
BOOM!
A third discharge echoed through the night. Four more rebels dropped to the ground with their chests pierced. In less than three minutes, Mark’s faction had lost half of its men. The wall of axes held by the four veteran hunters was impenetrable, and behind them, the young apprentices were already ramming their iron rods down the barrels with terrifying calm.
"Damn it!" said Mark, taking three steps back with wide, unblinking eyes.
"This is our last chance or we are dead!" said one of the former nobles beside him, shaking in panic. "The shaman will not let us live!"
ROOOAAAR!
A colossal roar shook the ravine, knocking snow from the pine branches and freezing the blood of every single traitor.
"Not let you live? Of course you won’t live another day," said Kellar.
The massive giant bear burst through the gloom, snapping tree trunks along the path. Atop its back sat Kellar with eyes burning in pure fury. Right behind him, Grok and Brak marched forward at a steady pace, followed by the entire fifty-man recruit squad.
"H-how... how could he get here so fast?" said Mark, falling to his knees on the snow as his remaining men dropped their weapons in sheer terror.
"I knew you would try something like this from the moment you set foot on the mountain," said Kellar, dismounting smoothly from the bear. "So I was already on my way. When the young apprentice alerted us to the situation along the trail, we simply quickened our pace."
Kellar walked slowly past the bloody corpses and stopped by the carts, looking at the inventor.
"Are you alright, Lennis?" said Kellar.
Lennis stepped out from the shadow of the trees and walked forward, wiping snow off his cloak.
"Everything is perfect, sir," said Lennis. "Thorín and the boys held the position without issues."
"Perfect," said Kellar, running his hand along the reinforced wooden edge of the crates. "Is my order ready?"
"Of course, sir," said Lennis, pointing inside the first wagon. "The entire batch is in the carts."
Kellar turned toward the formation behind him and raised his voice.
"Riflemen, to your weapons!" said Kellar.
The fifty youths rushed to the carts immediately, grabbed their iron muskets, and deploy across the field. They dropped to one knee on the spot, set the powder, rammed the charge home, and cocked the mechanisms, replicating their daily drill to perfection.
"Ready! Ready! Ready!" said the fifty recruits in unison, making the ravine echo with their shouts.
Kellar walked until he stood just a few meters from Mark, who was trembling on the blood-soaked snow.
"So, Mark... even though I gave you a second chance, you attempted to steal what belongs to me?" said Kellar.
"No, Great Shaman! It’s a misunderstanding! We were only..." said Mark, raising his hands in desperation.
"Do you think I am an idiot?" said Kellar, cutting him off cold with a sharp glare. "There is no need to waste breath on you. It is time for them to test their training. Line of riflemen, advance!"
The surviving rebels watched in terror as the fifty youths formed a flawless, five-rank staggered firing line, with ten men in each line.
"Riflemen, volley fire!" shouted Brak.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The sequence of discharges echoed in continuous waves. Fifty lead rounds tore the rest of the rebels to pieces in seconds, leaving a deathly silence over the pass. The young recruits lowered their smoking muskets and stared at the steel in their hands; they had never imagined that their mechanical drill with wooden sticks and sand would yield such destructive effectiveness.