Chapter 542: Nights in the Forest
Nights in the Forest
At second bell, an entire cohort gathered on the strip of land between the camp and the river. As Martel and Eleanor arrived, they received packs with provisions; this mission would take days. The mageknight Valerius joined them with a hearty greeting. "Ah, our battlemage and his stalwart protector. I shall be glad to have your company." He was among the younger prefects, halfway through his twenties. "What do you think of my cohort?" With a flourishing gesture, he motioned towards the five hundred assembled soldiers. "Best trained in all the legion."
"I have heard that claim made by every prefect," Eleanor replied.
"Ah, but in my case, it is actually true."
"Of course. Have you been informed on our mission?" she asked.
"I have. A Khivan encampment considered to be their base in the immediate area, three days' march from here," he explained. "Between two and three hundred soldiers. Once we destroy it, it should give us breathing room."
The Tyrians appeared in same manner as last time, going ahead while leaving one of their number behind to act as guide. Martel hoped this one would not try to kill him as well.
"I cannot say I would trust them in a fight, but they are good scouts, those northerners," Valerius continued. "The Khivans have always been too slippery for us in the past. It feels good to bring the fight to them."
Sir Lara appeared, and the soldiers fell into position. "Attention! Your cohort has been chosen to strike a decisive blow," she spoke in a clear voice that filled the space. "We will push the Khivans back and reclaim this area as ours. Aster Invictus!"
"Aster Invictus!"
"Malac preserve you all." She bowed her head, the soldiers saluted in return, and the march could begin.
***
Their journey took them east, and the march continued until nightfall without incident, other than the occasional rest. They made camp in the forest that was in full bloom. Using his skills with earth magic, Martel did his best to flatten the ground and provide a more even sleeping experience for himself and Eleanor.
"I heard talk today, earlier when we stopped," she spoke, breaking bread and giving him half. "You punched a soldier, they claim."
"Rumour spreads fast. In this case, it's true," Martel admitted. "He insulted a prefect. I probably shouldn't have let my temper get the better of me, but he's welcome to complain and repeat his words to Sir Lara."
"What did he say?"
"It's not important." Martel took a sip of water. "You don't have to tell me it was a mistake. I shouldn't be making the men hate me."
"I am not concerned what the common soldiery thinks. They are Asterian legionaries, and they will follow orders," Eleanor claimed. "I merely wondered if something was wrong."
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Martel did not feel as confident; Eleanor herself had once remarked that discipline seemed less than stellar in the Tenth. "No, nothing's wrong. What do you think of our task?" he asked, changing subject.
"We have a sizeable advantage. Numbers and magic on our side. Valerius said we could discuss tactics tomorrow night. The advance scouts will be back by then, and we should know exactly what we are dealing with."
"Alright. We better sleep."
***
Another day of marching passed uneventfully. Martel realised this was the furthest he had been from camp. Moreover, had this been a regular patrol, he would have been ambushed by now. It made him wonder if the Khivans had already spotted them; if not yet, they surely would. However skilled as scouts, the thirty Tyrians could hardly intercept every Khivan between here and their destination to prevent them from bringing a warning back. The Khivans might be fewer in numbers, but they ruled these forests, and Martel assumed they kept as sharp a vigilance as the Asterians did around their own camp.
"Have you noticed something about the soldiers?" Martel asked, as he and Eleanor took their evening meal, another day's march at an end.
"What about them?"
"The half centuria who arrived with us on the Red Emerald, they're here," he told her. "This must be their cohort."
"I suppose it was inevitable that we would fight together with them."
Valerius appeared, sitting down beside them. Unlike Avery, he seemed less firm, less decisive, perhaps less experienced as a commander. "Our task has become a little more complicated. The advance scouts have returned. The Khivans have fortified their position."
"Why was this not known beforehand?" Eleanor asked.
"According to the Tyrians, there was nothing of the sort when they first discovered the encampment some fivedays ago."
"In that case, their defences must be rudimentary. They would not have had time for much else."
Valerius nodded. "Just palisades, but it still complicates our assault. We can cut down some trees and make ladders, but we must assume the place is crawling with sharpshooters. We will take heavy losses scaling their defences." He looked at Martel. "It was my hope that as a battlemage, you might have a better way."
Martel scratched the back of his head, considering the issue. He had never tried to directly blast something away. Air magic seemed more useful for that, or even earth magic, throwing boulders like a catapult. "I can set fire to the palisade, of course, but it will take a long while to burn. It won't get us through faster than ladders."
"The gate tends to be the weak point in the structures," Eleanor contemplated. "Perhaps a combination will work best. If you strike it with your strongest spellcraft, Sir Martel, and we follow it up with a ram? Attacking across a wide front will only let the Khivans pack the palisades with marksmen and shoot our idling soldiers, waiting to ascend the ladders. A concentrated attack through the gate will turn it into a melee, where we hold the advantage."
"Excellent idea," Valerius assented. "For the ram, we just have to cut down a log, and we can make the assault. Much faster than ladders, and we do need speed."
"Why?" Martel asked. "It is time against us?"
"Of sorts. The Khivans are bound to discover our approach tomorrow, one way or the other. The less time they have to prepare for our assault, the better. Or worse they escape altogether, melting into the forest. We may find ourselves harassed at every turn, trying to retreat back to camp," the mageknight explained. "It is settled. When we reach the encampment, we shall attack the gate. Sir Fontaine, you and I should be first through, else we might sustain terrible casualties."
"Of course." Eleanor waited until Valerius had left them before she spoke again. "Martel, under no circumstances are you to follow me into that camp. You understand that, right?"
Martel was not happy about it, but he did. A mageknight's defensive spells would keep them safe from a whole regiment of Khivans, at least for a short while. In comparison, Martel's meagre protective magic would leave him dead if two Khivans fired upon him at the same time. "I understand."
***
On the third day, they reached their destination. The Khivan encampment lay in a clearing, with an open stretch of land on all sides to the treeline. The ground sloped upwards slightly, though calling it a hill might be a step too far. In the middle, palisades rose to provide simple fortifications, with a ditch surrounding it. A single gate allowed entry; behind, more than two hundred Khivans prepared to defend themselves.
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