Read Online Cauldron of Blood by Leo Kessler - Free Book Online

Now we’ll fuck the cow ! Come on Wotan, we’re gonna to do... Come on....’
    The assistance of the new men did the trick. The men exerted the last of their rapidly dwindling strength. Cursing and panting furiously, slipping to their knees and rising again, ignoring the cruel cuts and gashes made by the metal, so cold that it ripped the flesh from their bodies as if it were red-hot, they heaved and heaved until finally they reached the top, falling immediately into the snow, all strength gone.
    Schulze crouched on his knees, arms wrapped around his ribs, his heart thumping crazily, fighting to control his crazy breathing, and saw them through a mist of shimmering white air, trying to speak, but unable to do so.
    After what seemed an age, he staggered to his feet and peered down at them as they lay prostrate there in the snow, chests heaving frantically like a bunch of stranded seals. ‘Get... get up...’ he croaked, ‘on yer feet.’
    There were feeble protests, but one after another the exhausted Wotan men staggered to their feet, swaying from side to side dangerously, as if they were very drunk.
    ‘ Haul ass,’ Schulze ordered. ‘Come on... move it! We ain’t got all the time in...’
    He stopped suddenly as the whistle shrilled from the other side of the valley. An icy finger of fear traced its way down the centre of his spine, as he counted the blasts, while all around him the Wotan troopers froze, their weariness completely forgotten now, hearts beating furiously in fearful anticipation.
    ‘ One ... two ...’
    A loud echoing pause. Schulze mopped his soaked brow.
    ‘ Three ...
    ‘ Holy Mother of God,’ the Bavarian breathed, breaking the tense silence.
    ‘ Four times ...’
    Schulze sprang into action. Now there was no use attempting to conceal their presence here. He raised his schmeisser and fired a burst into the sky, waving his arms for the sentries to abandon their posts.
    Matz slipped behind the wheel of the tractor. ‘All aboard,’ he cried, but there was no joy in his voice.
    They needed no urging. Swiftly they clambered on, swamping the vehicle with their numbers, grabbing hold of stanchions and wooden sides to secure some sort of hold for the steep descent to come.
    Schulze crouched there in the snow, machine pistol at the ready, while behind him Matz and the rest rocked the heavy tractor back and forth trying to get it moving.
    Now the guards were running wildly down the opposite slope, trailing a wake of white behind them, panic evident in their every movement.
    ‘ She’s ready to roll, Schulzi!’ Matz bellowed. ‘Yer’d better get aboard!’
    On the skyline the first horseman appeared. Then another... And another....
    Schulze saw their sabres flash a bright silver in the pale yellow ball of the ascending sun. He grunted and pressed his trigger. The machine pistol chattered at his hip. White and red tracer curved across the valley, above the heads of the running men.
    One of the Cossacks raised himself in the saddle and waved his sabre. Behind Schulze the tractor groaned alarmingly as it swayed up and down like a see-saw, the snow creaking noisily beneath its weight. The Cossacks started to race down the slope, half upright in their saddles, tugging hard at their bits to prevent their mounts from falling, great wakes of flying snow coming from their skidding back legs. The sentries flew. Here and there a man flung away his weapon in panic. Schulze fired again. A Cossack sailed over the flying mane of his horse and smashed down. The bay galloped riderless with the rest. A Cossack blade flashed. The last of the running Wotan troopers screamed as the sabre cut his skull in half. He went down, arms and legs flailing in a crazy gigantic snowball.
    ‘ We ‘re going now, Schulzi!’ Matz screamed as the first sentry reached the wildly swaying tractor, teetering on the brow of the hill, but with its blunt nose inclining ever deeper. In an instant it would be gone. Schulze pushed the