Chapter 3 – Invaders 

      Sanya and Erica are still sat in the back of the ruined medical supply truck when a familiar noise begins to fade into the girl’s perception, perking them up like startled deer. Hopping down from the destroyed chassis they dart their visions around through the dull grey sky looking for whatever is making that sound. Suddenly Erica spots it.

       “Look there! A 109! At least the Luftwaffe is still in the area.” She calls out to Sanya happily. 

       “If only we could fly up to it.” Sanya complains as Erica begins waving her arms trying to grab the distant pilot’s attention. “I don’t think that’s going to work.” Sanya laughs. 

       “Worth a shot.” Erica smiles back admitting defeat. 

      As the noise of the aircraft disappears into the distance a new, growing sound catches their attention. Cresting a hill in the road not too far away from them, a lone truck, similar to the one they had been resting against trundles along, its engine now the only sound perhaps for miles around. 

       “Perfect!” Erica barks as she dons a huge grin and puts out her thumb to try and stop the transport. Unlike the last time she tried such a ploy, this time the truck comes to a metallic screeching halt. “The Hartmann charm strikes again!” Erica beams as the cabin doors swing open. 

      From the truck a small contingent of soldiers, at least fifteen, pile out into the road to take up positions against the unknown girls. Erica looks relieved to see her countrymen, albeit taken aback by their cautious reaction. 

       “The Weirmacht.” She sighs in satisfaction. “Hello soldiers. Look, we’re both a little lost. Where are you heading to?” Erica questions only to receive no immediate reply from the group of men. “Hey I’m talking to you.” She moans as she takes a step towards the amassed squad. 

      Instantly upon her advance the group of grey uniform clad soldiers raise their weapons towards Erica. 

       “Wait, what are you doing!?” Erica demands in shock drawing Sanya to close in on her confused friend. One of the soldiers, the commander of the unit, speaks up, shouting at the pair from the safe distance of the parked truck. 

       “Your jacket child, where did you get it!?” This question surprises Erica; did these men not know who she is? The top ace of Karlsland! 

       “It’s mine...” She assures the man in confusion. 

       “That is a Luftwaffe jacket! You stole it! Did you loot a dead pilot!?” the soldier yells, clearly upset. 

      The more Erica looks over the group of angry soldiers she begins to notice strange errors in their uniforms. Ribbons and patches she doesn’t recognise, strangely familiar to those of Karlsland but quite different on closer inspection. The men all look tired, hungry and beaten with deep sunken eyes staring at her and Sanya with piercing glares . 

      “What’s going on here?” she demands back . “I am Oberleutnant Erica Hartmann of the 501 st Joint Fighter Wing! On my way back from the liberation of Moscow! I order you to lower your weapons!” Erica commands, her sudden display of seniority moving Sanya to do likewise. 

      “I am Flying Officer Sanya  Litvayk of the Orussian Air Force and I also order you to stand down!” she yells at the strange crowd. 

      After a short moment of silence the soldiers begin to murmur and laugh, making strange gestures towards the girls and looking at them incredulously. 

       “You are an Oberleutnant you say? Ha! And I’m the Fuehrer! Now, get on your knees.” The commander shouts mockingly. Sanya and Erica look at one another in bewilderment, shaking their heads in disbelief of their situation. “Don’t try to fool me any more girl! It's clear that you are Slav partisans and that you have attacked this medical truck!” the man claims with increasing fury . “Not only that but you have looted our dead and you dress like harlots! Get on your knees, now!” he screams, face practically bursting red. For some reason it feels to the pair of confused witches that these men genuinely hate them. 

       “You wouldn’t speak this way to Commander Barkhorn. C’mon Sanya, let's go.” Erica sighs as she turns around to walk away from the soldiers, grabbing Sanya by her sleeve to pull her along. Sanya gives an inquisitive look back at the men before following behind her comrade, putting the bright red star on her tailcoat on full display. 

      “They are Bolsheviks! Shoot them!” the commander orders as he climbs back into the truck, causing the line of soldiers to open fire with their rifles on the backs of the retreating girls. With no effort at all the wall of lead is instantaneously blocked by the sudden appearance of a bright blue magical shield. 

      With a look of intense shocked anger Erica turns around to look upon the men who dared fire at her and Sanya. The group of soldiers remain with their weapons aimed however not out of malice any more, but out of fear. Each man looks amazed or terrified at what had just happened, as if they had never seen a witch use a shield before. Even the loud mouthed commander jumps down from the truck again to witness the occurrence. After staggering on his words and drawing his own sidearm he again orders his men to open fire. Once more the puny bullets bounce off the magic circle harmlessly into the mud. Again and again, at least five volleys land against her barrier before the first soldier loses his nerve and runs away. 

       “Where are you going, coward!?” the commander yells only for another soldier to speak up, saying only one word “Witches!”  

       “Yeah idiots, we're witches! Stop shooting at us!” Erica shouts. 

        “Evil Slavic witchcraft!” one enraged soldier condemns as he unhooks a stick grenade from his belt. 

        “Hartmann!” Sanya warns in a panic as she also puts up a shield just in front of Ericas right as the grenade lands. An ear bursting explosion kicks a plume of dust high into the air, accentuated by another volley of rifle rounds slamming into the solid barrier. At this point the two witches have grown tired of this performance and Erica takes it upon herself to put an end to it. 

       Dropping their shields, Erica charges towards the soldiers through the lingering smoke. “Strum!” she yells, whipping a violent tornado of wind around herself, catching her shocked attackers by surprise. None of the men can comprehend what’s just happened as they are thrown through the air, landing with a loud thud against the ice hardened ground. Some pass out from the impact while others stagger up to flee in terror. Even the truck flips onto its side against the might of Ericas powerful magic. 

       As the gale subsides and the dust settles Erica stands next to the wrecked truck, several soldiers cowering in fear on the floor or just unconscious, several more having already run away. 

        “Well that’s that then.” She laughs; dusting her hands after a job well done and throwing a friendly smile back at Sanya. Suddenly from behind the overturned transport the commander emerges, pistol drawn in a frightened rage. His hands shaking, he aims at the blond teenager facing away from him. The crack of the gunshot rings out, but as has happened before the killer projectile finds itself blocked by magic. Erica turns in shock, this isn’t her shield. Facing back to Sanya she sees that this time, she has saved her. 

        “Wow. Nice one Sanya.” She says in surprise. 

        “What are you!?” the scared commander demands, unable to even aim his firearm any longer. 

        “We’re witches! I’m from Karlsland, like you!” Erica explains in utter annoyance. 

        “I am German!” the man retorts, loud and prideful, almost posing as if to display his exquisite uniform. Erica and Sanya look at one another, shrugging their shoulders in confusion before Erica bends down, slowly to pick up one of the defeated soldiers dropped Kar98 rifles. The commander, sweating and breathing heavily, finally loses his might as he turns and runs away down the road the girls had travelled earlier. Both witches suddenly burst out in raucous laughter at the sight, Sanya moving to stand next to her companion. 

        “What was all that about?” she questions, taking Ericas free left hand softly. 

        “I never did like the Weirmacht.” Erica mocks. “But honestly I have no idea.”

        “Will we get in trouble for this?” Sanya ponders quietly, looking down at a sleeping soldier with concern. 

        “Let’s worry about that when we get home.” Erica comforts. “You should probably grab a gun, these guys will be fine.”  

       Together Erica and Sanya continue slowly trudging along the still barren country path, only now carrying their stolen rifles slung across their backs. 

        “I’ll be putting in a complaint to Army High Command you know. Can’t say I’ve experienced friendly fire quite like that before!” Erica bemoans with a huge, goofy smile. She’s acting childish, letting the situation slide into mockery, however in reality she’s really quite upset by the whole ordeal. Yes she’s aloof, carefree even, but she’s also a firm soldier deep down, and these men not abiding by her clear orders and then proceeding to fire upon her and Sanya was unacceptable. “Barkhorn will tan their hides! I think a court martial is in order!” she continues, letting a small hint of this anger slip out. Sanya meanwhile remains quiet, as she normally does, mentally trying to process the day’s events. 

       Why did those Karlsland soldiers react the way they did? As if they had never seen a witch or magic before. On top of that their referral towards her as a Slav; she couldn’t help think felt venomous and insulting. She’s never experienced an attack aimed at her heritage before, it felt – violating. 

       As the two wander on they crest over the top of a steep hill, overlooking a valley basin before them. Nestled in the middle of this sprawling landscape and consuming the rolling hills sits what looks like a small farmstead. The sky is getting noticeably dark by now, nightfall is not far away and with any luck the fatiguing witches might just find shelter below. 

       It still takes a good twenty minutes to walk the distance towards the farm, slipping and sliding down the muddy gradients all the way. As they draw closer however things begin to appear most unusual. Sanya notices it first, an ever growing smell of burnt wood and sulphur. Atop a hill stands what looks like the remains of several small windmills, or at least they once were. Their silhouettes appear pitch black in the dimming light, now nothing but ruined timbers and beams. Sanya had seen countless windmills like these when she first fled Orussia, maybe she thinks, had this farm been attacked by a Neuroi? The farmhouse itself, while still mostly intact, does show signs of fire damage, as if the flames had been extinguished before the building became a loss. Its windows and front door had been blown out, but regardless the weary pair approach with optimistic caution. 

       “Hello?” Erica shouts into the darkened front room of the lonely cottage, keeping her voice low and unthreatening. “Is anyone home?” She receives no reply, no signs of life from inside. The ever present stench of burning was not a good sign as she notices holes in the roof spanned by cracked, charred planks. 

        “Should we go in?” Sanya asks, her question quickly answered by Erica taking several tentative steps into the doorway. 

        “No one’s here. Let’s look around.” Erica calls back to her waiting tail. 

       “There’s really nothing here! Even the furniture’s gone!” Erica says in amazement as she roams room to room around the small home. From the crumbling walls and broken windows the last dregs of sunlight cast long, dark shadows over the walls and floor, illuminating specks of floating ash and dust shimmering in the air. In the gloom Sanya emerges from a side room carting a large suitcase far too large against her petite body. 

        “Oh sorry” Erica chirps as she notices her struggling to drag the container towards her. Lending a helping hand to position the case the last few feet into the centre of the room the pair drop the heavy, leather bag throwing a plume of dust up off the wooden floor. “What do we have here then?” Erica says as she unbuckles the metal latches to cast open the abandoned case. Inside sits a hodgepodge, messy arrangement of clothing, clearly packed in a hurry. 

       Sanya takes the first pick, a crumpled but quite warm looking fur coat. It’s nothing expensive, probably hand made here on this farm, but it has to be better against the falling temperature than her thin shirt and tailcoat. Likewise Erica draws a similar looking warm jacket, its collar lined with soft white padding. She’s grabbed the more stylish one she secretly boasts, and it will cover her normal uniform, hopefully avoiding any more misunderstandings with ignorant soldiers.  

       After slipping into their new, borrowed coats and feeling quite snug for it, Erica soon sets about starting a small fire as the sun finally dips below the horizon. It doesn’t take long to bundle some useful kindling and stoke a warming, homely pyre. Together the pair of exhausted witches sit, pointing their tired, cold feet towards the orange glow, shoulder to shoulder against an empty wall, which their rifles lean similarly against. Sanya lets out a prolonged yawn, a soft wail against the crackling fire and whistles of wind from outside. Erica finally breaks the silence. 

       “What a day” she moans as she wiggles her toes, still wrapped in bandages. “Hopefully we’ll find some help tomorrow. Or at least find out where we are” she says.  

      “I’m still worried about the others.” Sanya responds quietly, as if not to disturb the home's non-existent residents. “I’m sure they’re all still in Moscow. I can’t believe we couldn’t destroy Hive Leon”.  

       “There were a lot of Neuroi. Hey remember we couldn’t liberate Berlin in one go. We’ll just have to try again.” Erica smiles as she adjusts her fluffy collar.  

      “I’m glad Commander Minna came to see us off. I’ve missed her.” says Sanya cracking a shy smirk. “I’ve heard they gave her a desk job”. 

      “Ha! Yeah they did. She’s helping with the rebuilding of Berlin and setting up new defences, in case the Neuroi return” Erica informs. “I’ve missed her as well. But Trude’s doing the best she can. Maybe one day I’ll even be the squadron commander?” Sanya can’t help but give a suppressed laugh at this proposal. Surely Erica could never be serious enough to lead the 501st? 

        “It’s been a long time since we’ve talked like this, you and I” Erica says, ignoring Sanya’s dismissive chuckles. “I’m glad we got lost together”. 

       “Me to.” Sanya replies happily. 

       This serene moment of quiet friendship is suddenly interrupted by a deep gurgling emanating from Sanyas belly. She turns her head away from Erica in embarrassment, her face cherry red. 

        “Someone’s hungry” Erica states, smiling a cheeky grin. 

        “I’m fine” Sanya says, obviously lying, betrayed by her own body.  

       “Well I couldn’t find any food in the kitchen but.” Erica stops herself, as she reaches into her uniform pulling out a bar of Karlsland chocolate which she hands to a still blushing Sanya. Sanya looks in shock at the candy in front of her. 

        “Where did you get that? Have you had that on you all this time!?” she questions, taking the bar cautiously. 

        “I’ve heard rumours that someone raided the mess tent before we left for Moscow. Unsubstantiated rumours, that is!” Erica reassures Sanya. 

        “You stole this?” the Orussian cries out drawing a sarcastic shock from Erica.  

       “I never said I did. Besides… Lucchini and Eila were there as well”. A dull look of knowing expectance falls across Sanyas un-amused face. 

        “Of course she was…” she sighs. Despite the playful, insincere disappointment, Sanya digs into the dark sweet, satisfying at least some of her hunger. 

        “Don’t keep it all to yourself now” Erica nudges. Sanya, suddenly looking quite guilty, snaps a perfect half off the bar to which she hands back to Erica, who likewise indulges. Now against the warming glow of their campfire and with hunger satiated the pair soon fall into a peaceful sleep. 

       The dreaming witches sleep doesn’t last long however. They could have only been asleep for a few hours before an ominous, tremendous noise awoke them both. Their fire had died out, now a sad, smoking mound. Outside the distinctive roar of airplane engines pass high overhead. Through the holes in the ruined ceiling bomber after bomber pass above the darkened homestead. Erica is sure that they are Karlsland aircraft but she can’t quite tell through the gloom. It becomes rather un-nerving however as the passing war machines shake the whole house, dropping dust from the rafters which falls down like a horrid snow. Soon thereafter the distant sound of explosions reach the girl’s ringing ears. 

       Erica gets to her feet to take a careful look out of the house’s front door. Across the eastern horizon the sky appears a brilliant, fiery orange, punctuated by the occasional highlight of yellow and red. The droning buzz of bombers drowns out among the chorus of bangs taking place wherever they had flown to. A battle was happening somewhere close by, although strangely the young Karlslander couldn’t see any Neuroi beams. Even at this far distance she should be able to spot some wayward lasers.