Chapter 203: Just a Hot Spring?

Thousands of Spanish soldiers were already marching down the rocky trail...

Brandt gripped his bloody steel mace. His face was pale. "We have nowhere to run. Just give the order, and we will die taking as many of them with us as possible."

Though Brandt’s bravery was honorable, Voss hated the idea of dying in a random clearing.

Voss looked back at the Baron, who was still laughing, savoring his victory.

Finally, Voss looked at his own Swabian supply train and the three immense traction engines sitting right behind his men at the mouth of the steep gorge.

When they left Augsburg, the wagons were packed with food and coal. But more importantly, they were carrying wooden barrels of extra black powder to supply the Gatling carts for a long siege.

Even after the heavy shooting today, there were still dozens of untouched powder barrels sitting tightly packed in the iron hulls of those three traction engines.

Voss started to laugh. It was a hysterical, manic laugh.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Baron von Reischach barked. "Have you finally lost your mind, Voss?"

"No, Baron!" Voss shouted. A crazy grin stretched across his face. "I am just amazed! You made one huge, incredibly stupid mistake!"

"What mistake?!" Reischach sneered. He raised his broadsword.

Voss turned his back on the Baron entirely and grabbed Brandt by the shoulders.

"Brandt! Listen to me!" Voss ordered. "I want you to take fifty of our fastest Jaegers! Run to our traction engines right now! Climb onto the iron hulls, bust open every single barrel of black powder you can find, and dump it all over the hot boilers!"

Brandt’s eyes widened. "General! If we do that, the engines will be ruined! We will never get the artillery back to Augsburg!"

"We are not driving them home!" Voss roared. He shoved Brandt toward the iron machines. "Do it! Dump the powder, then light a slow fuse using a piece of burning coal! Once the fuses are lit, release the heavy iron brakes so the engines roll right down the steep trail into the middle of the tightly packed Spanish host!"

While the sprawling army of mercenaries watched in confusion, fifty Jaegers sprinted to the back of the clearing and climbed onto the traction engines.

"Stop them!" Reischach screamed. He suddenly realized that the Swabian commander was trying to pull some kind of crazy trick. "Charge! Do not let them touch those machines!"

The rebels surged forward again. They swung their swords and raised their steel shields.

"Hold the line!" Voss roared. He stepped forward. "Give Brandt time! Push them back!"

Steel maces crushed skulls, iron swords bit into leather coats, and blood soaked the freezing snow.

Voss took a shallow cut to his left arm. He ignored the burning pain as he kicked a rebel mercenary backward.

Up in the narrow gorge, the thousands of Spanish reinforcements were marching in tight formations. They were closing the distance to the clearing. They were only a hundred paces away.

"Fuses are lit!" Brandt screamed from the top of the center traction engine. "Release the brakes! Push the engines!"

The Jaegers grabbed the heavy iron levers and pulled with all their might. They jumped off the sides of the metal hulls and pushed the back wheels.

Gravity caught the immense iron machines. The three heavy traction engines slowly began to roll forward, pulling away from the clearing and barreling directly down the steep, narrow gorge toward the tightly packed Spanish armada.

"Get away from the trail!" Voss yelled. He waved Brandt and the Jaegers back to the open clearing. "Everyone fall back! Hit the dirt! Cover your ears and close your eyes!"

The Swabian soldiers dropped their weapons and threw themselves flat onto the bloody snow. They covered the backs of their heads with their hands.

Reischach’s mercenaries, confused by the sudden surrender, stopped fighting. They stared at the Jaegers lying in the dirt.

Reischach rode forward. He looked past Voss’s men toward the steep mountain trail.

He saw the three heavy traction engines rolling fast into the Spanish host. He saw the small, glowing orange lines of fire slowly burning across the powder-covered iron boilers.

"What is that...?" Reischach whispered. His eyes widened.

Down in the rocky gorge, the Spanish soldiers were shouting at the runaway machines. They tried to push them away with their pikes.

A tall Spanish captain reached out and grabbed the iron wheel of the first engine right as the small burning fuse finally touched the huge pile of exposed black powder.

"General..." Hans whispered into the snow. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

Voss squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the snow.

"Hold your breath, Hans," Voss whispered back.

...

Voss squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He buried his face hard into the snow. Beside him, Hans and Brandt did the exact same thing, wrapping their arms over the backs of their heads. The four thousand Swabian soldiers lay flat on the snowy clearing, holding their breath.

Down in the rocky gorge, the tall Spanish captain grabbed the iron wheel of the rolling traction engine. He looked down at the barrels of black powder scattered across the hot boiler. He saw the tiny, glowing orange spark of the cloth fuse finally reach the powder.

A blinding, pure white flash of light illuminated the gray morning. It turned the entire mountain pass as bright as the middle of summer for exactly one heartbeat.

The incredible force of the blast slammed into the clearing like a solid wall of iron.

Voss felt his entire body get pushed hard into the snow. The air was sucked right out of his lungs.

A sweeping shower of freezing snow, wet dirt, and burning shards of iron rained down heavily on the backs of the Swabian soldiers.

Behind Voss, the rebel mercenaries standing on the clearing did not know to drop to the ground. They took the full, devastating impact of the shockwave right to their chests.

Men were lifted entirely off their feet and thrown backward through the air. The heavy steel shields they were holding instantly bent and shattered.

Reischach’s warhorse shrieked in panic, rearing up and throwing the old Austrian noble backward into the snowy dirt.

A painful ringing echoed inside Voss’s head.

He groaned. He slowly pushed himself up from the snow. His entire body ached, and his charcoal coat was covered in black ash and wet mud.

He shook his head, slapping the side of his steel helmet to try and clear the ringing from his ears.

Hans was slowly sitting up, spitting a large mouthful of snow onto the ground. He looked at Voss, his eyes wide with shock. Hans pointed a shaking finger out toward the narrow gorge.

The explosion had ripped right through the tightly packed host of Spanish infantry.

The steep mountain trail was turned into a smoking crater.

Dozens of the Spanish companies nearest to the blast were entirely obliterated. They vanished into the falling rocks.

The rest of the invading army was heavily damaged. Their yellow and black banners were engulfed in roaring orange flames.

Thousands of surviving Spanish soldiers were thrashing on the rocky slopes. They screamed in panic as they clung to burning pieces of timber, trying to crawl away from the inferno.

"Holy hell..." Hans whispered. His hearing slowly returned over the sound of the crackling flames.

"...I really did not think it would be that loud," Voss laughed. A chuckle escaped his lips as he wiped the black ash from his forehead.

Brandt stood up. He looked at the burning gorge, and then he turned around to look at the rebel army on the clearing.

"Jaegers! On your feet!" Brandt roared. "Pick up your weapons! Reform the line!"

The soldiers scrambled to their feet. They quickly brushed the snow off their heavy rifles. They checked the firing mechanisms to ensure the powder in their pouches was still dry.

They formed a tight line on the clearing once again. They pointed their iron barrels directly at the surviving rebels.

But there was no need to shoot.

The exiled mercenaries were sitting in the snow. They were bleeding from their noses and ears, staring blankly at the burning gorge.

Voss drew his mace and walked slowly up the clearing. Hans and Brandt walked right behind him, their weapons drawn and ready.

The rebel warriors scrambled out of Voss’s way. They crawled backward in the snow to avoid him.

Baron von Reischach was sitting on his knees in the dirt. His fur cloak was ruined. His face was covered in mud.

The old noble was staring at the burning trail, his broadsword lying forgotten in the snow a few feet away.

Reischach slowly looked up.

"You brought wooden pikes to a gunpowder fight. Did you really think King Konrad would just let you surround us and stab us with pieces of sharpened iron?" Voss sneered.

"We surrender..." Reischach whispered. His voice cracked.

"Hans, take his sword," Voss ordered, finally lowering his mace. "Brandt, tell the men to start rounding up the prisoners. Have them march back down the slope toward the fortress walls. We will secure the city today and set up a proper command post."

"What about the Spanish in the rocks?" Hans asked. He picked up Reischach’s heavy sword and rested it on his shoulder. He pointed a thumb back at the burning gorge.

"Let them walk back to Madrid," Voss laughed brightly. "If the freezing rocks do not kill them, the long walk across the Alps definitely will."

The Swabian soldiers let out a victorious cheer. They raised their rifles high into the air. They celebrated their incredible survival and their General’s ruthless strategy.

Voss had proven himself as a true commander of the Swabian army. He had protected his men, defeated a sweeping alliance, and secured the vital mountain pass for Konrad’s supply trains.

He turned around. He was ready to walk back down the snowy slope and claim his new frozen fortress.

The ground beneath his boots was vibrating. The loose snow on the clearing actually started to bounce into the air.

"..."

"Is that... is that the Spanish marching again?" Hans asked.

Voss slowly raised his head, staring up at the towering peak. The thin wisp of steam that had been drifting from the mountain suddenly transformed.

A sprawling pillar of gray ash and boiling steam shot straight up into the sky. It blocked out the pale sunlight.

Voss took a long breath. He forced his heart to slow down. He looked at Hans, who was clutching Reischach’s heavy sword with white knuckles.

"Hans, relax your shoulders," Voss forced a loud laugh. He slapped his friend hard on the back.

He then turned around to face his nervous army. He raised his mace high in the air.

"Do not worry, Jaegers! Hold your ground!" Voss’s voice boomed across the silent clearing. "I told you that shockwave from our engines would hit the peak! This... this is just the shockwave echoing back from the mountain! It is just a little hot spring venting from the rocks! You should all know that these noises are normal in the Alps!"

Though Voss’s explanation was biologically, geologically, and wholly inaccurate, the men needed something to believe that was not "we are all going to die in a river of boiling mud."

The Jaegers looked at their General, standing tall and laughing in the face of the apocalyptic eruption.

If Voss was not frightened, maybe they did not need to be either...

After hearing such words, Brandt, ever the practical commander, took his General’s lead.

He drew his steel mace and started yelling order. "You heard the General! Stop staring at the sky and get back to work! Round up these prisoners!"

"Round them up! No weapons! Keep them moving!" Brandt commanded.

Voss walked over to the old Baron. Reischach was still sitting in the snow, staring blankly at the smoking peak.

"Get up," Voss said. "I am not going to kill you today. King Konrad will want to ask you why you allied with the Spanish Emperor before he chops your head off himself."

Reischach just continued to stare at the orange glow in the sky.

As Reischach was dragged away by two Jaegers, Voss looked out at the burning gorge...