Chapter 565: Blood upon the Leaves
Blood upon the Leaves
If the sounds of battle had been loud and dissonant before, it all turned into a cacophony as the mounted cohort of the Tenth Legion arrived. Horses thundered into the clearing, legionaries on the walls cheered, and the Khivans discharged their weapons. Finally daring to leave his spot, Martel went up on the wall.
Gazing out, he saw the reinforcements sweep into the clearing while the Khivans hastily retreated. Relieved, Martel dismissed his spell. Only one concern remained. Swiftly, he went down the walls and ran east.
***
Martel found Eleanor surrounded by carnage. Her weapons and armour carried blood, but she did not appear wounded. Legionaries and Khivans lay dead on both sides of the breach by the scores. The defending centuriae had taken losses, but inflicted just as many upon the enemy, by the look of it.
"Martel! Are you hurt?"
He shook his head. "You?"
"No. The Khivans retreated only moments ago. Did reinforcements arrive?"
"Yes. They must be sweeping around both sides of the outpost." He looked towards the gap in the wall. "I am sure you can see them soon."
"Prefects," Valerius spoke, appearing next to them. Like Eleanor, his appearance showed he had taken part of the heaviest fighting. "Come. Let us greet our comrades."
***
Together, they returned to the gate. Already, a handful of riders had streamed into the small yard. "Sir Dominic!" Valerius called out, and the decurion dismounted to approach them with a smirk.
"I see we arrived in time! I have ordered my men to dismount and prepare to pursue on foot. How many of yours are able to join, Sir Valerius?"
"Pursue? Into the forest?" Martel asked, sounding doubtful. Until the other cohort arrived, they did not necessarily outnumber the Khivans, and fighting among the trees would be chaotic; they might take as many casualties as they caused.
"Of course!" An irritated expression flashed across the decurion's face. "The enemy is on the run! Now we cut them down to size. Sir Valerius, gather your available troops and give chase. Battlemage, you and your protector do the same!"
Martel looked at Eleanor. This seemed reckless, but in the absence of the legate or legion prefect, the decurion nominally held command. "Yes, sir," she spoke and turned to Valerius. "We will take the centuria that fought with us by the gate."
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"Excellent," the mageknight replied. "I will gather the others." The decurion gave only a grunt and disappeared, leaving through the broken gate.
***
Under a canopy of leaves, the battle continued. The Khivan were as spread-out as the Asterians, small bands fighting each other across a mile long front, snaking through the forest and constantly expanding as the Khivans retreated further.
Rather than a headless rout, the Khivans were pulling back in good order. Their musketmen fired at the advancing Asterians, pulled back behind a line of their own and reloaded, while their comrades in front fired their volley, only to make the same retreat and reload. This meant that for every legionary who closed the distance to engage, another died before getting as far.
Sticking close to Eleanor, Martel found his abilities less useful. The cluster of soldiers around him prevented him from sensing the heat of the enemy, which he relied upon to ensure his spells landed. Along with the trees providing cover and breaking his line of sight, he could not rely on his fire bolts to take out enemies.
His spellpower was nearly drained from maintaining the wall during the assault, and he dared not use his stronger spells for fear of exhausting himself. The last thing Eleanor needed was an unconscious battlemage she would have to drag back to the outpost with the risk of encountering any Khivans straying behind.
Sounds of battle, especially muskets being fired, reached them from elsewhere in the forest, but Martel ignored it, focusing on the enemies straight ahead; the scattered skirmishes meant every band fought for themselves. Some twenty to thirty Khivans had grouped together and fired on the centuria fighting under his and Eleanor's command, and they had already lost a dozen soldiers. Martel knew if not for his presence, Eleanor would long since have led the charge, but she must have sensed Martel feeling vulnerable, staying near him.
"Eleanor," he called out, even as he crouched low behind their own men. "I will disrupt their ranks," he spoke as she turned to look at him. "If you have any magic left, now is the time to attack!"
She nodded, trusting his decision, and sprinted forward. He saw the shimmer of magic as she activated her defensive spells while ten or more Khivans fired at her. Spurred on by their officer, the remaining legionaries charged as well. For his last spell, Martel conjured another wall of flames, this time as far back as he could. When the Khivans pulled back after firing their musket to reload, they found the way barred.
Some of them gripped the barrels of their muskets with gloved hands to wield them as clubs, while others drew daggers from their belt. Five pikemen, retreating alongside the musketmen, lowered their weapons to form a wall of steel against the charging mageknight. With a burst of magic, Eleanor jumped high into the air, clearing the lowered pikes with ease to land among their wielders. In close combat, they stood no chance against her sword as she slaughtered them. The musketmen joined the fray, but the legionaries had caught up, and none of the Khivans survived.
Exhausted, Martel ended his spell. He could taste blood in his mouth, though he was not wounded. He would be no further use until he could replenish his spellpower, but the battle still raged on, if not in close vicinity. As the legionaries caught their breaths, Eleanor returned to him. "There is more fighting to be done," she said softly. "Stay in the back. Do not let any musket get a clear shot at you."
"What about you?" He looked at her physical shield, cracked and torn. Her armour underneath the surcoat was probably in similar condition. Without her powerful magical shield, a bullet would end her life as swiftly as his.
She gave a weary smile. "I have enough in me for another fight." She turned towards what remained of their centuria. "Soldiers! To me!" The legionaries got on their feet, shields raised, and followed the mageknight towards the nearest sounds of battle.
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