Chapter 543: A Gentle Push
A Gentle Push
The cohort split up with the different centuriae surrounding the encampment, should the Khivans attempt to break through. A tree was felled and cut to shape, leaving some of the branches for the legionaries to hold, creating a simple ram.
The march had taken longer than expected; the sun would set within the hour, and the three mages of the expedition gathered for a final discussion. "I thought we would arrive sooner," Valerius said, pacing back and forth. They stood just inside the treeline. "It will be dark any moment now, and our assault may descend into chaos. Should we delay our attack until morning?"
"Once we're past that gate, it will be chaos regardless. And the darkness may hinder their aim. We should not give them time to make further preparations either," Eleanor argued.
"I agree," Martel added, as he had no thoughts of his own other than the desire to see this done now.
Valerius ceased his pacing. "Very well. Time to take up positions. We attack."
***
The sound of a horn filled the clearing, signalling to the Asterian legionaries. From one side, two centuriae and every archer sent with the cohort marched forward to draw fire and attention, shooting back as best they could.
"Forward!" Valerius bellowed. On the other side of the clearing, the remaining Asterians moved out. With heavy shields, they ran forward towards the gate, like an armoured fist holding Martel and the men carrying the ram in its grasp.
The sun had set by now; darkness overtook the clearing. Martel found it hard to judge the distance to the gate, and the responsibility of his task made his stomach turn. If he cast his spell too soon, too far from the gate, the magic would dissipate and be reduced in effect. But every step closer made it easier for the Khivan sharpshooters to find their aim.
Shots could be heard, and somewhere to his side, legionaries fell to the ground with screams of agony. His mouth dry, Martel called out, "Halt!" The entire assault force did so, and the soldiers in front parted slightly to make way. Eleanor stepped forward first, all her defensive spells active as she acted a human shield, crouching slightly down. Behind her, Martel planted his staff in the ground, holding it with both hands.
He called upon every ounce of magic in his body. It coursed through him, leaving his fingertips to travel along the silver veins of his weapon until a bolt of lightning arced from the ruby on his staff to connect with the gate. For an eerie moment, Eleanor's hair rose into the air as the spell passed above her head, and briefly, the night sky became illuminated.
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A crash could be heard, but rather than thunder accompanying lightning, it was the logs and hinges of the gate twisting and tearing. Eleanor placed her helmet back on her head and rose up.
"Forward!" Valerius commanded, and the legionaries did so, led by the two mageknights. His task done, Martel sank to the ground, his hand still clasping his staff.
***
Martel had spent his spellpower, unleashing it all in a single spell. He was supposed to retreat now, back to the treeline, but he felt too worn to even stand. Instead, he pulled the shield of a fallen legionary in front of him and used that as cover.
Ahead, he saw the soldiers with the ram reach the gate. It took only a handful of blows before it fell apart. Yelling battle cries, the legionaries streamed into the encampment. The sounds of battle raged on, but Martel noticed that fewer shots could be heard; the fight had changed to close combat. The centuriae from the other side ran along the palisades to join the assault.
His hand slightly shaking, Martel uncapped his flask to drink. While the thought of Eleanor fighting inside the ring while he sat outside left him disturbed, he would not be of any use in his current state. Even casting a fire bolt felt beyond him.
A pillar of fire shot up into the air from inside the camp, accompanied by the sound of an explosion. More than that, Martel felt the burst of heat, even at this distance. He knew that any person caught close to the blast would be nothing but ash. Fear overtaking him, he leapt to his feet. With empowered speed, he ran.
Once beyond the fallen gate, he looked in every direction. Dead and dying soldiers surrounded him, whether Khivans or Asterians. Tents, weapons, barrels and crates, everything one would expect to find in a camp. In the other end, the pillar of fire had been replaced by smoke, rising towards the horizon.
"Martel!" His heart leapt hearing her voice. She swiftly reached him, pulling him aside. "You should not be out in the open!"
"I know," he mumbled. "I was afraid"
"I am fine," she told him, leading him outside the gate to hide in the shadow of the palisades. "We have won. One of the Khivans ignited their supply of powder in a last, desperate act."
"Right" Any further words were interrupted as he keeled over and emptied his stomach.
"Martel?"
"I shouldn't have run," he managed to say, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "I shouldn't have run."
"No. You should have stayed outside as we agreed." Although her words were firm, she did not use an unkind voice. "Do so next time."
"I really don't want to think about there being a next time." He uncapped his flask to drink, only to find it empty.
"Here." She gave him hers. "Your tactical blunder at the end aside, your spellwork made all the difference. It could have taken us a long time to break through the gate, with every moment costing us lives. I will make sure the soldiers know this."
Placing his back against the palisade, he sank down to sit on the ground. "I thought we did not worry about what the common soldiery thinks."
She gave a shrug, looking in every direction like a sentinel on watch. "No harm in giving their opinions a little push."
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