Gordez

The cannon fire was deafening.

I could barely see beyond the smoke of the rounds firing into the air.

Earth Kingdom soldiers around me struggled to loud the catapults, screaming into the smoke, past the gas, summoning the nearest Earth Bender to help them get loaded, begging for boulders, pitch, shells for the howitzer, it was chaos.

It was the chaos I knew.

"Catapults Bravo-1 and Delta-2!" I yelled. "Adjust Y by 15! Foxtrot-1! X by 5 and a half!"

"Hotel is out of ammo, sir!"

Damnit.

"What's going on here?" came a voice from behind me. I figured it must have been Cholla. There would have been no knowing for sure on account of the masks we wore had it not been for the rank emblem on his shoulder.

He's back.

And good thing too. Ever since he left to try and find any survivors who may have been trapped in the pantry, it had been me alone who had been trying to organize the artillery. I couldn't say for sure why he'd trusted me. Perhaps it had been that I seemed one of the few people who really knew his way around such things.

"Artillery is practically blind in the smoke and gas. We don't even know if we're scoring hits!"

"You're having them fire equidistant apart?"

"Yeah, but it won't be enough! They've already got us zeroed in and I doubt we're going to be able to get a read on whether we're hitting them or not by the time our artillery is wiped out."

"Is the gun still operational?"

The whistling of a shell suddenly struck my ears. Oh no.

"Get down!" I wasn't sure if it had been me who yelled it, or Cholla, or one of the other dozen soldiers in my immediate vicinity. All I knew was that I had my face to the ground within seconds, thankful for the mask or I'd be rising with a mouthful of dirt.

Was the gun still alright?

I rose to my feet quick enough, helped by Cholla who had already risen by the time I'd once again gained a bearing on my surroundings. Had he even ducked?

"Foxtrot-A is down!"

And the cannon? Cholla's voice echoed in my head. Or maybe that was just the ringing of the explosion. I checked either way. The gun was still there, seemingly untouched.

"Yes sir," I panted, still winded from tossing myself to the ground. "But I can't say for how long. Artillery is coming damn close."

He nodded. "Have them move the artillery gun back up the hill closer to the wall. Get them out of those ships' firing zone!"

"What about the catapults?! They'll be sitting ducks!"

"The catapults won't do anything to breach their hulls! The most they're doing is suppressing their gunner right now! Only the howitzer will be able to punch through their hulls! Now get it up that hill!"

"Yes sir!"

"And keep those catapults firing! We need to buy time!"

"But the gunners-"

"Do it!"

I was thankful for the masks then. I wasn't sure if it was because I feared the reveal of the cold determination in his eyes, or the fear in mine.

I turned back to the firing rows; the catapults that were already being torn apart. For every catapult gone, our suppression field was waning, and soon, their barrage would continue in force. We don't have a lot of time.

I didn't risk yelling the retreat for the gun. Doing so would only make the other gunners realize they were being abandoned. I'd get the gun up first, then get the others off of the catapults.

"Get the gun up the hill," I told the gunners who were in the process of loading another round.

"Are we retreating?" they asked dumbfounded, as indicated by the question rather than the nonexistent face.

"Just get it up, now!"

"Yes, sir!"

They were too terrified even to question my orders. It didn't surprise me. If I wanted them to question my orders, my authority, I'd order them to charge forward.

I turned to watch as they ascended the hill, beyond the battlements that were being occupied by scattered groups of Earth kingdom soldiers, most of them still bearing the marks of the night prior, only being shaken into sobriety to have it replaced by instant terror.

They just had to be drinking?

I wondered if this was what every night had been like here. Without the artillery bombardment, of course. Hanief had make a talking point of the cellar and how it was packed to the brim with booze. I suppose it had only been a matter of time until an incident like this transpired. Shame it had to be the exact night we were around.

I turned in time to see a ball of flame beyond the gray of smoke and the yellow of the gas that appeared to be thinning thanks to the explosions of the shells, ironically enough. Less in favor to us, however, the explosion had claimed another catapult as indicated by the yelling of "Charlie C is down!"

"So is Bravo 2!"

Damnit. I turned back to the artillery gun, continuing its slow ascent up the hill. The artillery was picking up. Damnit!

I turned back around, able to witness where the majority of shells were landing, near the center of the beachhead. It must be the center warship. That's the one doing the firing.

"All batteries!" I exclaimed, loudly enough fortunately to catch the ear of the gunners who turned to me. "Firing grid 5 Delta! Suppressive fire on the center of the mist!"

They were in no position to disobey. They saw my orders as a chance to save their own skins. They took it. The catapults turned slowly. Too slowly. Another two were destroyed in the process of turning to launch shots at their adversary, the resolve of the other artillery crew wavering in the process. The process of turning had allowed them to see the retreating howitzer. And something inside the postures of the few I notice allowed me to see something within them shatter. They knew. They knew they were only buying time. They knew this was suicide.

They were on the verge of breaking, and I knew no word I could utter would keep them there, and I assume that's why it would be Cholla who spoke up, yelling to his men, most of whom were now in position, "Men! The enemy is in your sights! For the Earth King, for the Earth Kingdom, rain hell!"

And what else could they do? The catapults that were already loaded and prepped were fired as new ones loaded and fired. The shots were panicked, misfired, off-target, but they served their purpose for the few seconds that they could, buying time.

It wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

Another catapult went up in flames from a Fire Nation shell that had been midair when our own barrage had begun.

Our first volley achieved what it had aimed to do. Their fire stopped, their own gunners likely having sought cover. It wouldn't last. They could load their guns quicker than we could, but we had to try.

"Fire again!" Cholla exclaimed. There was no point lining up the shots. We weren't going for kills. We were buying time.

And so we did, and just enough. I turned back. The artillery gun was within the walls.

"Abandon positions!" I called out. "Retreat back to the wall!"

The men were all too eager to do so, especially as the Fire Nation had noticed we were done. Their volley had arrived, capturing in it 2 more catapults with their full crews as well as a number of other retreating soldiers.

"All men!" Cholla exclaimed, blowing twice on a whistle in a form of code I was sure his men would understand. "Retreat to the wall! Inside, now!"

They hadn't needed to be here in the first place, simply hiding in dugouts, near barricades, destined to accomplish nothing beyond absorbing shrapnel, and so they had no qualms in their retreat, rushing amidst falling artillery to get back beyond the wall.

The retreat was assisted by Earth Bender personnel, manifesting walls before themselves to absorb incoming shells, some of which were more successful than others, saving lives, while others were merely debris by which even more lives were lost.

The smoke of our own catapults was beginning to clear just in time for us to see the next volley of shells come straight for us, most landing short, tearing apart the remaining catapults and battlements that had housed soldiers only a few moments ago.

The beachhead had been cleared. Not all had made it off. It was to be expected. A number of men were being left behind, dead, or half-dead, still crawling towards us, but we could now see the Fire Nation cruisers emerging from the fog over the Nip. There was nothing we could do. The gates were shut before us. There's nothing we can do.

The gas was beginning to clear. It could only linger for so long after all and it was beginning to give way. That wasn't to say, however, than anybody was particularly eager to remove their masks.

Cholla was quick to making an effort to recover the situation, calling out, "Get the cannon set up. Target set to arc over the wall. We'll rain hell down on their navy!"

"Captain Cholla!" a voice came from behind us, prompting him to turn back to face it.

It was Hanief. Of course. "What are you doing here?! You're supposed to be securing the beachhead!"

"The beachhead is lost, sir! Their artillery is bearing down on us too hard!"

"You just paved the way for their infantry to land, Captain!" The Commander, drunk, be it on alcohol or power, I couldn't tell, turned to his men, just having barely escaped the beach with their lives, exhausted, on the verge of collapse, and he addressed them. "Soldiers! Grab bows and grab Earth! Onto the walls! Do not let the enemy advance!"

"Sir!" Cholla interrupted. "The artillery will rip them apart!"

"Are you suggesting we sit here, Captain? Wait for them to storm through those walls and kill us all?"

"No, sir, but we'll accomplish nothing by throwing away men!"

My focus on their exchange was interrupted by a familiar voice calling from behind me, "Gordez!"

Zek!

I turned to face him, the joy in seeing him still unhurt replaced by the sudden concern in realizing he was alone and Luke, Ka'lira, and Zare were still unaccounted for. "Where are the others?!" I asked.

"I was hoping they were with you. Damnit!"

"Ka'lira wasn't with you?" I asked, surprised, less so about Zare and Luke.

He shook his head, the concern evidently rising to his face.

"Zek! Gordez!" We both turned. Even beyond the masks, I could recognize the statures of Luke and Zare. Still no Ka'lira.

"Oh Good. We thought you two were dead!" Zek exclaimed.

"Never," Luke scoffed in response.

The joy in seeing the pair return could only last so long however, replaced by fear and anxiety once again as Zek asked, "Have you seen, Ka'lira!" and the two merely responded with Luke stating, "I thought she was with you" and Zare affirming, "I didn't see her at our quarters.

"Damnit!" Zek declared before shaking his head and already setting off into a half trot near the center of the fortress.

"Zek!" I called after him, every part of me reluctant to let him just run off so soon after we'd barely found one another. Not all of us. His eyes faced mine, pleadingly. I understood. How could I not? He knew what he needed to do, and so did I. "Be careful."

He nodded, running off in the opposite direction.

It was around now that we noticed the shells had stopped falling. They were likely beginning to land troops now.

"You!" Hanief's voice rang out from behind us. His mask was off, the grotesque features of his foolish and gluttonous face glistening in the torchlight as he barked at us. "You three! Get up there on the walls! Now!

Luke and I were quick enough to follow along with what the man was saying, but it was Zare who held the two of us back, calling out to Hanief, "Sir! They may be attempting to flank us!"

"The enemy is on the beach, kid! Not behind us! Now get on the wall and kill those ash makers!"

There was no point arguing. Zare saw that as well, and so begrudgingly, the 3 of us advanced towards the wall, ready to make our stand there, buy whatever time Zek would need to find Ka'lira. Then, well, then maybe we could try to escape with our lives. Xiahu was a lost cause. That much was apparent.

We were mid ascending the stairs leading to the top of the wall when we then heard the horn echo across the night air, silencing all else, all artillery, all explosions, all yelling. It blared again, and the eyes of all those could hear turned to face its source.

And there, in the distance, atop a far hill, six silhouettes or Komodo Rhinos bearing riders atop them.

Oh no.

The horn blared one last time.

Things were about to get far worse.