Chapter 570: Hardened Defences
Hardened Defences
The easy days of pleasant weather and peaceful patrolling did not last, Martel realised, as a bullet whistled past him. Whether the Khivans lay in wait for him and Eleanor, or whether they had surprised the Khivans, he could not tell; the result was the same regardless. Seven enemies, by his count as sensed by his magic, could be found dispersed around them. Nobody approaching from the back though.
Reaching out with his magic, Martel found the musket that had just fired at him and crumpled the barrel together. Eleanor sprinted forward, having already taken numerous bullets, and struck down the nearest enemy. Judging by their frantic shouting, they had not expected to meet two mages, answering Martel's initial question about who had surprised whom.
Another Khivan shot at Martel and hit him, only for the bullet to strike his magical shield. Martel destroyed his musket as well and released a fire bolt at another soldier furthest away. Meanwhile, Eleanor cut through those standing her.
The remaining Khivans turned and fled, throwing their weapons aside. Martel struck one with a fire bolt; Eleanor threw her dagger with empowered strength at another, hitting him in the back. Both their targets died while the others kept running for their lives.
Martel considered giving chase; they were beyond the range of his spells. Looking at Eleanor, he noticed she remained in place, and he took his cue from her.
"Any others?" she asked while glancing in every direction.
Martel released a burst of magic to sense his surroundings. "Nobody near us."
She nodded and went to retrieve her dagger. Once she came back, she did her usual destruction of the Khivans' weapons.
"Did you think about pursuing them? I wasn't sure whether we should," he asked.
"I thought it unwise. We might get separated, and others could have been nearby." She glanced at him. "Does it trouble you they escaped?"
He shook his head. "They probably already figured we were out here, or they would find out sooner or later. Today or tomorrow I doubt it matters in the long run." He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "But I suppose we should expect a lot more resistance, now that we know they are back. This won't be their last patrol."
"No." Eleanor looked up at the surrounding trees. Their green leaves had barely begun their slow transition to the colours of harvest. "It will be a while before summer ends."
Stolen story; please report.
***
An expected change awaited the pair as they returned home; they noticed it as they reached the clearing. A new gate guarded the causeway; it must have arrived during the day with the latest train of supplies. After leaving their equipment by their tent, the two wizards crossed the camp towards the gap in the wall. They found several carts holding large slabs of stone and a wizard in green robes busy at work, using magic to clear away debris. Likewise, it was clear to see that the rugged edges along the gap in the wall had been smoothed over.
"Henry!" Martel had wondered when the stonemage might be sent to make the repairs; if anything, the assault had proven that only enchanted walls would be sufficient to protect against cannon fire. Martel did not doubt that without the stonemage's enchantments, the fortifications would have crumbled much faster under the barrage. Any simple repairs that the legionaries could do on their own would leave a glaring vulnerability in the defences.
"My favourite battlemage and protector in the entire legion," Henry replied, turning towards them with a smile. "They've still got you busy chasing Khivans, I take it."
"It never stops," Martel replied.
"How are repairs coming?" Eleanor nodded at the wall.
"I didn't have enough stone prepared," Henry admitted. "I'll have to send for more material from Esmouth and shape it here. So it will take a while before it's all done. You'll have to keep the Khivans at bay for at least two fivedays."
"At least you are assured good company," she added.
"I suppose." A wry smile accompanied Henry's words. "I don't mind being out of Esmouth for the time being either. Our legate is having his own little strife with the Thirteenth. Well, the same old argument they keep resurrecting. He's been in a mood lately, and even a civilian stonemage isn't safe from his outbursts."
"What argument is that?" Martel asked.
"Who's responsible for patrolling the wetlands," Henry explained. Seeing the uncertainty on their faces, he continued, "The Thirteenth Legion is camped north of ours. They're responsible for guarding the river against any attempted crossing. In between us and them lie the marshes."
"We are familiar with those," Eleanor said. "They ruined a perfectly good pair of boots for me."
"Well, our legate claims that his imperium only extends to the river delta, leaving the marshes the responsibility of the Thirteenth to patrol. They argue since it's between our camps, half of it is our responsibility," Henry elaborated.
"Is that really so contentious?" Martel frowned, unsure why it mattered so much.
"Nobody likes going into the marshes. The soldiers hate it, and I guess the good legate considers it a waste of his resources. He'd rather spend it on something like this." Henry glanced around the outpost. "You can't move horses or carts across those wetlands, let alone cannons, so it would be suicidal for them to try a crossing in that place."
"I wish they'd try," Martel declared. "Maybe they'd leave us alone here."
"Well, I hope I'm done and can get back before they try again. Say, speaking of good company. Do you have something decent to eat? I'm already tired of travel rations," Henry admitted.
Eleanor and Martel looked at each other. "If you like deer and don't mind a lot of company during your meals " he began to say.
"Along with singing in a language you don't understand," Eleanor interjected.
The stonemage glanced at them both. "I'll suffer a lot for venison."
"Good," Martel told him. "They sing terribly."
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