Chapter 546: Heat and Metal
Heat and Metal
The shot woke Martel. He stared in the dark, confused as he summoned a flame for light, until he recognised the small tent he shared with Eleanor. On the other side of the cloak dividing the space, he heard her stir as well. "Wait here," she told him, "and let me go first."
She left the tent, and he could see her wearing only a tunic but armed with sword and shield, looking in every direction. He grabbed his robe putting on armour in the dark while crouched inside the tent was a fool's errand and got himself dressed, grabbing his staff afterwards. More shots could be heard.
"No sign of fighting inside the ring. They must be outside camp still."
For now, Martel thought as he crawled out of the tent with little grace. If this was a full-scale attack, the ditch and earthen ramparts would do little to hold the enemy back. "Where's the fighting?" As he asked, he looked everywhere to gain an understanding of the situation. All around them, legionnaires ran back and forth, many of them half-dressed.
"No sounds of close combat. They are outside camp, taking shots at anybody in their sight. Stay inside the ring," she cautioned him. "We should find Valerius. He has command."
"Wait. If they're hiding in the dark, I'm the only one who can find them. Come with me," Martel said, and he moved towards the closest section of the earthen ring that surrounded their outpost. Reaching it, he saw a legionary on the ground, dead. A torch next to him explained how he had met his fate. Using his magic, Martel extinguished the torch, returning their surroundings to darkness.
"Let me stick my head up first," Eleanor said. "I can handle bullets better than you." Her magic activated to protect her, and she moved up the small slope. At the top, a handful of large stones lay, ready to be placed together and form a wall; for now, they lay scattered on the ridge. "Nothing," she whispered back at him. "Thankfully, the Khivans cannot see in the dark."
Martel joined her, using the stones to hide behind. Unfortunately, they also blocked his magic, and he had to put his head out to extend his magical sense, washing over the clearing outside the camp.
By the edge of the clearing, he found them. Two sources of heat, standing up. Probably hiding behind a tree while reloading their weapons. Striking them with spells would be difficult; he was more likely to hit a tree. Using any kind of fire would also make him an obvious target for them to hit.
Focusing on their shapes as he felt them with his magic, Martel made a discovery. Besides the blurry outline of their bodies, he could feel the heat of something else. It looked almost like an extension of their limbs, except it was far too long. He finally understood it had to be the barrel of their muskets, heated up by the shots.
Stolen novel; please report.
His magic could not directly entangle with another person, nor easily affect anything they touched. He could not simply ignite the clothes of a man like he had done the sail on the Khivan galley; at least not until his powers grew. But he could connect with the tip of the barrel and squeeze it together, just a little. Enough to prevent it from firing a bullet. He did the same with the other sharpshooter's weapon and ducked down behind the stone.
"Well?" Eleanor asked. "How many?"
"Two, but I doubt they'll trouble us further." As Martel spoke, the Khivans fired their weapons, but he felt no streak of fire bursting through the air. "I've destroyed their weapons."
Eleanor stared at him. "You can do that?"
"I'll accept your compliments later. There are shots coming from the other directions as well. Let's deal with them," Martel suggested, sliding down the ridge.
***
They discovered seven Khivans in all, including the two already dealt with. They had spread out to attack the camp from all directions, taking shots where they could find targets. Once Martel had made a full round, destroying each of their weapons, he and Eleanor went to the banner of the cohort in the middle, where they found Valerius, Starkad, and Henry.
"There you are! I expected you here immediately," the mageknight reproached them. "I have chosen one centuria to lead an attack out of the gate, under my command. Sir Fontaine, you will be by my side."
"We took care of it," Martel simply said. In terms of magical stamina, destroying the weapons had been simple, causing little exertion, but interrupted sleep along with the tension of the situation leaving his body made him feel worn. He sat down on a nearby pack.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Valerius asked.
"Didn't you notice the firing stopped?"
"What Sir Martel means," Eleanor interjected, "is that we investigated all angles of attack, and he used his powers to dismantle the Khivans' weapons from afar. Hence they have ceased to fire."
The other magic-wielders all looked at him with varying degrees of scepticism or incredulity. "You can simply do that?" Henry asked after a moment.
"When they're heated up from shooting, yeah. It lights up like a torch in the dark," Martel said, not sure how else to explain it. It felt like describing sight to the blind. "So I damage the barrels of their weapons, and they can't shoot again."
"In that case, they must be in retreat and without weapons. We must search for them before they escape!" Valerius declared.
"Finding these Khivan woodsmen in the dark, in the forest?" Starkad asked, and his smile almost made his words seem benign rather than an indictment of the mageknight. "When we cannot be sure if others await? That this was a trap to lure us out of camp?"
Nobody else spoke, as they all allowed Valerius to draw the conclusion on his own. "Fine. But I want sentinels posted everywhere."
"I'll make the rounds until daylight," Martel suggested. "I'll know if they return or try to sneak up on us in the dark." Seeing the others look at him, he wondered if they understood what a battlemage could do. "I can see the heat of their bodies. I'll know."
"Mage of fire, you are useful!"
"Glad you noticed." Weary, Martel got on his feet and looked at Eleanor. "You can go back and sleep if you want."
"Not a chance."
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